Reincarnation (22 page)

opened and let the

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energy of this kiss, this contact, flow through her. It felt strange and new and familiar and

safe all at once. At that moment, she knew that she loved him.

Three weeks later, Bert was whistling as he came up the stairs. There was no more need to

skulk into his room, avoiding the hotel owner. Lenny had doubled Del's salary since the club

was packed night after night. Del had insisted on giving him a cut of it for his songs.

They'd spent every night since then having late suppers and taking moonlit strolls along the

Seine, basking in the joy of their new love. In the afternoons, when she wasn't seeing her

psychoanalyst, they worked on new material. Sometimes he read to her, mostly love poems.

When he unlocked his door, he found the man from British Intelligence seated in the red

velvet chair by the one window overlooking the street. "How did you get in?" he demanded to know.

"It's not important," the Intelligence man replied. "I didn't want to loiter outside; it attracts attention." He opened a briefcase to reveal British pounds, neatly bundled. In these past

weeks at the club, he'd heard bits and pieces of suspicious conversation that he'd

mentioned when this man came by to check. It hadn't seemed very important to Bert, but

the man assured him that anything might be important.

"Tonight you'll give this money to your contact. She

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will pass you the rocket blueprints." Bert had been told about these prints days earlier. He

hadn't known there would be an exchange tonight. "Your contact will pay the scientists who

gave the prints to her. You don't want to be responsible for what happens if she doesn't get

this money."

"How will I recognize my contact?"

"Go to The Panther tonight. An agent will slip you a note telling you how to recognize her."

"Can't you just tell me who it is?"

The Intelligence man left the case behind as he headed for the door. "The less you know,

the better. The agent can't do it for you because he might be recognized." At the

door, he turned back. "And don't skim from that case, not even a little. The whole amount

has to be delivered."

Bert would do this just as he'd been requested to. England and America were allies, so he

felt it was his patriotic duty. And the Nazis had repulsed him. In no way could they be

allowed to gain the military superiority this rocket might provide them. Nazis in England --

the thought made him shudder.

Dr. LeFleur peered at Del through his thick glasses. Lines of vivid orange sunset striped the

small darkened room despite the fact that the elderly doctor had drawn the blinds to block

it. Below, Del was dimly aware of the rumble of evening traffic like the crash of a river

steadily tumbling over rocks.

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She enjoyed seeing Dr. LeFleur once a week, but so far he'd done nothing to quiet the

terrifying dreams that plagued her sleep. She'd had them since childhood, but lately they

were growing worse. She would wake up shrieking, helpless. She became so hysterical that a

few of the neighbors had even petitioned the landlord to evict her. The only reason he

hadn't was that she got home from the club so late and these fits occurred in the morning

when most of the other tenants were working.

"Tell me, what are you feeling now?" the analyst prompted gently. "Let's see if we can't get to the heart of these troubling dreams."

Del shifted a bit on the green leather couch and closed her eyes. "It's funny," she said. "This room reminds me of a cave I dreamed about last night, though I've never been in a cave."

"Picture the cave. What else is in it?" he asked.

"There is a woman in there with me. She is my mother, but maybe not... she's someone's

mother."

"You do not recall your actual mother, true?"

"That's right. She left me with my grandmother when I was an infant. My grandmother was

wonderful, but she died when I was small."

"Perhaps you seek a strong mother figure in your dreams who can take her place."

"Maybe. In the dream she's telling me something, but I don't understand what she means."

Opening her eyes,

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Delilah turned to him. "Where are these pictures coming from, Dr. LeFleur?"

"They arise from deep in your unconscious mind. Over these weeks that we have been

talking, I see that you are a young woman who is in unusually keen contact with your

unconscious; many creative people are. These images may be manifestations of your

greatest fears and desires. You may be calling forth symbols that are universal to all people

but are manifest in different ways. Or there is another possibility."

"What is that?" she asked.

"It is possible that these are memories."

"Memories? But I told you I've never been in a cave. I dream all sorts of things that can't be real."

"I would like to try something with you today. It's called a hypnotic regression. It might help you to remember a past life."

"What past life?" she asked.

"On my most recent trip to America, I learned of a man named Edward Cayce. He falls

asleep and claims he has dream visions of a person's past lives. I witnessed one of these

readings and was most impressed."

"Could you read my past lives?" Del asked.

"No. I don't have that gift. But I studied the methods of hypnotism set down by Milton

Erickson and even met the man on my trip. Would you mind if I hypnotized you?"

"I suppose not."

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"Good. Close your eyes once again. Now relax. Count backward from ten. Good. You are

feeling sleepy, very sleepy...."

Eyes narrowed for focus, Lenny released the dart from his hand. It flew straight and swift to

the dartboard on his office wall. Bull's-eye! Again. He was so good at this, it was getting

boring. But darts soothed his nerves and helped him think.

Two problems weighed on him at the moment.

He had to get rid of this Brody character. He hated him, pure and simple. Once he was gone,

Lenny could win back Dels affections. But as long as Brody hung around, Del had eyes only

for him.

Now, a way to do this had presented itself. The phone call he'd just received had come at

the perfect time.

He went to the office doorway, gazing into the halls where chorus girls, musicians, and

stagehands were preparing for the night's performance. "Yvette," he called when he spotted her, trailing her yellow feathered boa behind her tap outfit. "A word, please."

She clacked toward him in her tap shoes, tilting her head like an alert canary.
"Out?"

"Come inside." Offering her a seat, he sat behind his desk. Tilting his chair back casually, he made her a proposition. For a large amount of francs, would she be willing

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to be very friendly with Bert Brody tonight? Perhaps she would want to take him up onto

the roof with her?

"I'll show him the lights of Paris," she said with a laugh. "Why do you want me to do this ?"

"I want Del to forget him," he divulged, although it was only part of the truth, "and to see he can't be trusted."

"What if she
can
trust him?"

"He took you to dinner, didn't he? He's attracted to you, even if you don't appeal to his

better nature."

"I can get him up there and then throw myself into his arms when Del shows up. One way or

another, I'll make it work. I have a condition, though. I'll do it if you make me the headliner

of the show." Yvette fancied herself to be a shrewd negotiator.

"I can't do that; Del's my hot draw. She wants a night off, though. What if I give it to her on Sunday and you headline that night?"

"Sunday ? The place is empty on Sunday."

He shrugged. "It's the best I can do."

"Okay," she agreed. "Sunday -- I headline
and
I get the money?"

"And the money," he assured her.

"Tonight?" she checked.

"Tonight."

"All right." Tossing her curls behind her shoulders, she grinned at him. "Nice doing business with you."

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Rocking forward in his chair, Lenny rubbed his jaw. He'd make sure Del caught Bert Brody in

a compromising position with Yvette. And this solved his second concern as well. One of his

backers in Chicago, a German immigrant businessman, had a brother back in Berlin, a Nazi

officer. The businessman had referred his Nazi brother to Lenny as a man who could be

trusted to accomplish whatever was asked of him. That officer had just phoned him,

revealing that Bert Brody was working for British Intelligence. "We are told he comes to your club every night. Tonight he will be delivering money for the British. It's in a case he will

have. Don't let him make that delivery."

Tonight he would bring Del to the roof. She would find Bert with Yvette. Lenny would

provoke a fight with him. In the skirmish, he'd go off the roof. Lenny would get the case

from him and take some of the money for himself before turning it over to the Nazis.

He went to his safe and turned the tumbler until it opened. He took out his handgun and

shoulder holster. If anything went wrong, he'd rely on this.

Bert arrived early to The Panther. He couldn't wait to turn over this suitcase of money. It

filled him with anxiety. It seemed so obvious that he was carrying money, as though the

case itself had a glowing dollar sign on it. What if he was robbed? How would he explain

that?

Why hadn't they selected a tough guy, someone more

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formidable -- a boxer, maybe? The only two sports he was good at were sailing and archery.

Despite his nerves, his lip quirked into a grin as he imagined strolling the streets of Paris

with bow and arrow slung over his arm. Ridiculous as it would appear, it would be some

protection at least.

He walked into the empty club. A janitor in front was removing the chairs that had been

stacked on the tables. Otherwise the place was empty.

In a half hour, the show was scheduled to start. There would be a few acts with the chorus

girls, a comedian, another chorus girl act, and then Delilah would appear and remain

onstage for the rest of the act.

He took a stacked chair off a table and sat, placing the case at his side. He kept his right

hand on top of it, not losing contact with it for a second.

Yvette walked out from the wings of the stage and down center. "Bert, I need to speak to

you," she said, swinging her legs over the side and dropping her feet to the floor. He stayed seated, not wanting the case to be conspicuous. "Del saw you come in. She sent me with a

message. She wants you to meet her on the roof. It's very important."

He couldn't leave, not until the agent gave him the information that would identify his

contact. "Would you tell her I might be a little while?" he asked.

"What are you waiting for?"

"It's nothing. If you'd tell her I'll be along, I'd appreciate it a great deal."

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"It will cost you another supper."

"Please."

"I'll tell her. The door to the roof is backstage to the right, up the stairs behind the first door you come to. I'll make sure it's unlocked." Her message relayed, Yvette sauntered off the

stage, into the wings.

Maybe he had better go outside, he considered. The agent might be waiting there. Now he

was anxious to know what Del wanted, eager to pass on the briefcase and be done with this

espionage.

He got up to go when, glancing down, he noticed a folded paper on the table in front of

him.

It hadn't been there before! He was sure of it.

Checking around, he saw no one. The only change in the club was that the janitor had

finished his work and left.

The janitor. Of course!

He unfolded the paper. The note read: emerald collar.

He imagined a lavishly dressed woman with an emerald choker around her neck. Then he

remembered: Baby wore an emerald-studded collar.

Del was his contact!

Del scratched Baby behind the ears with her short red fingernails. She held her leash tightly

as they paced the alley behind the club. Del was nervous and Baby always picked up on her

emotions with an uncanny sympathy.

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She had no idea who her contact would be. The man from British Intelligence had assured

her it was for the best. A man would approach her with a briefcase filled with money. She

had picked up the rocket plans already from a man who had come to her apartment that

evening. He would return that night for the money. He warned her that if she didn't have it,

he would kill her.

Lenny came out into the alley. "Shouldn't you be getting ready to go onstage?" he asked.

She opened her coat to reveal her red dress. "I'm ready."

"Good. Come up to the roof with me for a moment. There's something there I think you

should see."

"What?"

"You'll see."

She didn't have time for this, but what if Lenny was the person who was going to hand her

the cash? He was an American, after all -- he could be the one. "All right," she agreed, following him inside.

Locking Baby in her dressing room, she went with Lenny up the stairs to the roof.

On the other side of the door to the roof, someone was arguing, though she couldn't tell

what was being said. What was this all about? Impulsively, she unlatched the bolt and

pushed the door open. Yvette and Bert were facing each other.

Yvette sprang to his side, clutching his arm. "You told me she would never find out about