Chapter 5: Flight From Danger

Departure was postponed nearly a month. Problems kept cropping up, some real and some suspiciously seeming contrived. Bobbie's position at Hundley Creations was more than a symbolic rich man's wife who played at working. She had created avenues of information that reached behind the scenes into what went on and where throughout the company and its various subsidiary companies.

Watkins Management tried constantly to bring in key people of their own choosing. Before his death, Bobbie's executor used her own sizeable block of Hundley stock to obstruct most of the attempts. He threatened stockholders' suit and direct court intervention. Then, one afternoon, his small speedboat blew up. The conclusion was a bad fuel leak in the engine compartment. Bobbie was positive it was murder.

From her executor's death on, Bobbie continued the fight with the help of her uncle Norman Brace, attorney. The day I drove her downtown to meet with the Watkins people was more of the same fight. The custom white Lincoln silently covered the distance.

I wore a solid black suit, with no adornment, not even a handkerchief in the breast pocket. My hair was slicked down, parted in the middle and held in place with holding spray. Horn-rimmed glasses with plain lenses softened my features. I looked more like a Wilmer than a Chuck, Daniel said. I had darkened my thin moustache slightly with an eyebrow pencil. It shortened the appearance of my upper lip. As planned I did not look like me. The extra calories of the rich food caused Daniel's old suits fit me better.

I carried an attaché case as I accompanied Bobbie. I was tasked to create a diversion if she were unable to contend with their enemies. Everyone, especially me, was jittery that I, an unknown quantity had to be thrust into the action. At the same time, this gave me a chance to study our opponents up close. They had become my enemies also when I agreed to the impersonation. Every day I was drawn more and more into the spider web of intrigue. A dozen times I almost bailed on them. This was their fight, not mine. Equal parts greed and a growing pity for Roberta Hundley kept me in the game.

Two men in their early fifties and a woman just a few years younger escorted us into an inner office. Everything was done to intimidate and it succeeded. Bobbie was terrified. Although in her early forties, the woman was very attractive. She had the appearance of an aging ex-swimsuit model. I blinked as I recognized her. I should, she gave me a blowjob one night at Tiffany's, a very expert one showing many years of experience.

She stared hard at me, "Do I know you from somewhere?"

I pitched my voice higher, tried to sound prissy and answered, "Do I look like someone you'd know, ma'am? I've never been in this building before in my life." My hand not holding the briefcase fluttered as I simpered and lowered my eyes before she noticed their color.

Bobbie said, "I have another errand to run. I'll be right back. Come Charles." I winced at the unintended pun.

I followed her out. As soon as we were outside on the sidewalk I asked her, "What's the matter?"

"I saw one of the papers they had waiting for my signature. It was a consent form for a physical and a pregnancy test. They plan to petition the court to dissolve Hundley Holding Company. For some reason they are trying to split the assets and sell everything off as per our father's will. However, they want to do it years early. We supposedly have until Daniel reaches his thirty-fifth birthday. Their premise is that we if have no children by then there will be no hope of us having any." She was panicked.

"Well, I know how to get that woman in there out of the way. It might stall things a little."

"What? How?" she asked desperately.

"She gave me a blow job at Tiffany's and there is a picture to prove it. She bragged she wanted a picture to show her husband. Two Polaroid shots were taken and she got one."

"Where's the other one?" her voice was beginning to break. "Quickly, tell me, do you know where the other picture is?"

"Yes," I answered. I paused, without continuing. It was my way to punish her for some of the grief she and Daniel had caused me.

"Where, for God's sake, tell me!" She exclaimed.

"At Tiffany's. She keeps copies of all pictures taken at the club. Do not show that woman the original. Just tell her she is very photogenic when eating certain things. Ask her if the picture she had taken to give her husband came out as clear as the one you have. Then inform them you and your husband are going on a six month tour of the continent, a sort of belated honeymoon."

"Let's go back before I lose my nerve," she said, in a jittery voice. She grabbed my sleeve and tugged me along.

We returned to the suite of offices and marched past the receptionist. "I was not going to use this," she patted the empty attaché case I carried as a prop. "But you thieves leave me no other recourse."

"Careful with your mouth there, Missy," One of the two men warned.

"No, she needs to be careful with her mouth." She pointed toward the woman, "I watched you perform oral sex on an extremely well endowed much younger man. You asked that a picture be taken to show to your husband. There were two pictures taken and I have the other one. I was just two tables away and watched your very professional performance." She patted the attaché case again.

"You silly bitch, you said there was no chance anyone would recognize you," the larger of the two men snarled at her.

"But, but I" She didn't get to finish.

"Give me that brief case," he demanded in a harsh voice. He started toward me. I smashed him in the side of the head with the edge of the case, spun on my left foot and snapped a sharp kick at his forehead. He flew backward into the other man. I opened the door and pushed Bobbie out into the outer hallway. As I stepped through behind her I told her tersely, "Go, now."

We hurried away from the office suite toward the elevator. As we entered I punched the ground floor button. The instant the doors slid shut I pushed the second floor button. "Out," I told her when the elevator door opened. She moved too slowly. I grabbed her upper left upper arm and dragged her after me. At the end of the hall was what I expected, a fire escape. If there had not been one I would have pushed her out the window and hoped she did not break a leg. I shoved the door open and we hurried down the iron steps. An alarm began to ring somewhere in the building.

The exit door opened into an alley. We hurried away and around the corner. A transit bus had stopped to let off two passengers. We boarded the bus in a rush. As the bus doors closed, I shoved a five-dollar bill at the driver. "Sorry, but I can't make no change man." We were pulling away from the curb.

"Well, let us back off at the next corner then, I told him. He didn't answer but drove two blocks to the next bus stop and ordered us off.

"Why didn't you just hand him the five dollar bill?" She looked at me exasperated. "I would have reimbursed you."

"I wanted him to let us off." Just then we spied the woman from the meeting in a car headed the way the bus went. She was talking on a cell phone and didn't notice us. Either someone saw us board the bus or she made a lucky guess

"Oh." She grabbed at her throat protectively again.

I saw a cab cruising by. "Fifty dollar tip!" I yelled at him.

He made an illegal u-turn and pulled up to the curb. "You mean that?" he asked. I pulled out my money clip and peeled off a fifty-dollar bill from the tip money I earned the hard way at Tiffany's. I reached across the front seat and dropped it beside him.