Any Given Moment (The Alexandra Chronicles Book 3) Page 15

  "How do you feel about that?" Georgiana said.

  "I, well, um, I'm obviously drawn to you, too, and... Well, friends are like that. Aren't they?"

  "I'm sexually attracted to you," Georgiana said quietly.

  "I know that you were married," Alexandra said, looking down at her drink, as if she were carrying on another conversation with someone else. After a long pause she said, "You've made your attraction pretty clear in our phone conversations."

  "You never acknowledged it."

  Alexandra looked up. "No, I didn't."

  "Talk to me. Tell me what you feel," Georgiana said.

  Alexandra got up and walked over to the window. "I can't do this, Georgiana."

  "Of course you can. If you want to. And I think you want to."

  Alexandra's head fell forward and stayed there for a long few minutes. When she finally turned around, glass still in hand, she said, "I have over two hundred people whose jobs depend on me. So does it really matter what I want?"

  "You can't hide behind your work forever," Georgiana said, setting her glass down on the coffee table. She was gaining confi­dence now. She had not been mistaken. "Because I think you know," she added, sitting back, extending her arms along the back of the couch, "that if you shut yourself down, it's only a matter of time before you use up all the emotional energy you have in re­serve."

  Alexandra was looking at Georgiana's chest, but didn't realize it. "When she did, her eyes darted away, and she looked as though she were about to bolt from the room.

  "Come over here and sit down," Georgiana said, raising an arm. "We need to sort this out."

  Alexandra did not move.

  "Are you seeing anyone?" Georgiana asked.

  "I see different people," Alexandra told her.

  "Are you sleeping with anyone?"

  Alexandra shook her head.

  Somehow Georgiana knew this was not the time to tell Alexan­dra that she had just had sex two nights ago with the King of right-wing Radio. "Alexandra," she asked softly, "have you ever made love to a woman?"

  Alexandra let out a slow breath. "Georgiana, I'm sorry. It was wrong of me to bring you here."

  "I asked you to bring me here."

  "In fact," Alexandra said quickly, "I think all of this is a mis­take..." She stopped because Georgiana had gotten up and was walking over to her.

  Georgiana put her hands on Alexandra's shoulders and looked her straight in the eye. "You're happy with the way things are in your life, Alexandra? You're not thrilled and terrified that you might have finally met someone? Someone who's played the same game you have, but to lengths you can't even imagine?"

  Alexandra's eyes were searching hers. "It's no match—no game. It's real life, Georgiana." And then, completely catching Georgiana by surprise, Alexandra kissed her.

  There was nothing shy about the arms that pulled Georgiana to her; there was nothing inexperienced about the mouth that was kissing her. If Alexandra wanted to show she knew more than Geor­giana thought she did, she had succeeded.

  When Alexandra pulled back to look at her, Georgiana knew she had just lost whatever control she had thought she had over the situation.

  "We need to think about this," Alexandra told her.

  A few moments later, Georgiana was heading downstairs, won­dering what on earth had just happened to her.

  26

  The telephone was ringing as Georgiana unlocked the door of her hotel room and she hurried to answer it.

  "Where have you been?" Montgomery Grant Smith demanded. "I've been worried sick about you! The security people said you left DBS hours ago! I thought someone had kidnapped you!"

  "I was in the newsroom and the studio," Georgiana said, cursing herself for answering the phone. "I stayed on to watch the news­cast."

  "It's nearly two o'clock in the morning!" he said.

  "I stayed to talk for a while afterward," she said.

  "Jesus, Georgiana, do you know what can happen to a woman in this city? Get in a cab and they'll take you to some godforsaken lot and—"

  "This has got to stop, Monty."

  "What has to?" He sounded startled.

  "You watching my every move."

  "So shoot me, I was worried, okay?" he said. She didn't say anything, so he added, "I care about you, Georgiana."

  "I appreciate that, Monty, but it's quite unnecessary and inap­propriate for you to worry about my comings and goings. Besides, I'm home safe and sound now, and I'm going to bed."

  "You don't want to have a quick nightcap, do you?”

  She was tempted to throw the phone across the room, but in­stead she said, "No, no thank you, Monty. I don't. And you have a big day tomorrow and so you better get some sleep."

  "Will I see you tomorrow?"

  "I don't know, Monty," she said crossly. And then she softened. "Look, probably. And good luck tomorrow with the court order. I want to hear how it goes, okay?"

  "Okay."

  "Good night," she said.

  "Good night, Georgiana."

  "Oh, pooh!" she said, slamming the phone down. Almost im­mediately it rang again. She picked it up. "Now what?" she wanted to know.

  "I only wish I knew," Alexandra Waring said with a laugh.

  27

  At nine forty-five on Tuesday morning, Elizabeth Robinson, Montgomery Grant Smith, and David Aussenhoff were standing next to a cart selling coffee on the southwest corner of Fifth Avenue and Eighteenth Street, each alternately looking up at the carved­ stone facades above the windows of 101 Fifth across the street and then looking north up the avenue. Monty's private investigation firm had already reported that Marion Ballicutt and James Stanley Johnson and some workers had been in the Hillings & Hillings offices yesterday, tearing the place apart, and were back in there again this morning.

  Despite the seriousness of their mission this morning, they were all in pretty good cheer. Dorothy Hillings had come through her angioplasty procedure the day before with flying colors, and the doctors were talking of releasing her tomorrow.

  "Where is he?" Elizabeth said nervously, looking up and down Fifth Avenue. She was referring to Joshua Lafayette, the Hillingses' attorney, who was to bring the court order and deputies from the city sheriff's office.

  "Relax, he'll be here," Monty said. "What I want to know is, where's the camera crew Alexandra Waring promised.”

  As if someone had heard him, an unmarked van pulled up to the corner of Eighteenth Street and honked. "Mr. Smith?" a young man called.

  "Here!" Monty said, holding his hand up.

  "Alexandra says, 'Kudos from DBS,' " the man said. “We’ll park and come back." The van surged ahead as the light changed.

  "I can't believe you got DBS News," David said, sipping the cup of coffee he had gotten from the vendor. He wouldn't be going up to the offices with them; he was there, he said, simply to support Elizabeth.

  "That's Georgiana's doing," Monty said. "Alexandra Waring loved the idea of us repossessing the offices after ICA repossessed them from Hillings & Hillings." He paused. "I don't know why, but she seems to have trouble believing what a terrific guy I am."

  "Perhaps you tell people that too often, Montgomery," Eliza­beth suggested, as a cab pulled over on the other side of the street and Josh jumped out and waved, waiting for traffic to clear so he could cross.

  "Where are the cops?" Monty demanded when Josh reached them.

  "Al Sharpton's got some protest going on in Brooklyn and ev­erybody's been pulled to emergency duty," the lawyer said, balanc­ing his briefcase on one knee to open it.

  "Damn it," Monty said. "We've got the cameras, we need cops.

  "I'll get you cops," David said. "When you guys go up, I'll call the police and tell them there's a robbery in progress."

  "Here's the warrant," Josh said, handing a sheaf of papers to Monty. "I'd like to go up with you, but Henry says for me to stay away."

  "And well you should," Elizabeth said. "Scoot, the news people are coming."

/>   "Good luck!" Josh said, walking down the sidewalk and in­stantly blending in with the crowds of people hurrying to their offices.

  "All right, now," Monty said, looking at his watch, "let's get this straight. The professor and I are going up and you're going to call the police—"

  “Uh-oh," Elizabeth said, looking over Monty's shoulder.

  Millicent Parks and Louise and Jordan Wells were coming to­ward them, and Jordan was carrying a video camera. "I have de­cided to help you!" Millicent sang out. "Well," Millicent said to Monty, stopping at his side, "here I am, back-up troops in tow."

  Monty looked at her. "You must know how much I've missed you."

  "How foolish you must be to miss someone who so dislikes you, Mr. Smith," the older lady returned. "But we—that is, most of America—already know what a fool you are."

  "I'm going to strangle her," Monty promised under his breath to Elizabeth.

  "Millicent, Monty, please," Elizabeth said.

  "Louise, I know how to do this," Jordan said, jerking the camera away from his wife's hands.

  "Mr. Smith?" the DBS man said, appearing with a young woman carrying a video cam on her shoulder. "I'm Will Rafferty and this is Deb Goldberg. Our orders are to just follow behind you and film, so you can go on and do what you need to do and we'll try and stay out of the way."

  "We're glad you're here, thanks for coming," Monty said con­genially, tie blowing in the wind.

  "I guess I don't need my camera then," Jordan said.

  "They don't need us period, Jordan," Louise said. "I told you."

  "Control these people," Montgomery told Elizabeth.

  "Okay, let's calm down, everyone," Elizabeth said. "If you want to come up, fine, that's your decision, but we are not to say or do anything until after Montgomery serves the warrant."

  "We've got to move," Monty said, checking his watch. "I've got a show to do after this."

  "I'll go make my call," David said, looking at his watch. "I'll give you five minutes, okay?"

  "Make it four," Montgomery said. "Okay, let's go."

  Elizabeth caught the sleeve of his jacket and pulled him back as a taxi narrowly missed him.

  "Good luck, Bets," David said, giving Elizabeth a kiss on the cheek. The light changed and they made their way across with the DBS news crew following closely behind.

  "Didn't I tell you they were going to need us?" Elizabeth heard Jordan asking his wife.

  "Need us?" Louise wailed. "Did you see their faces?"

  "Why doesn't she just leave him alone?" Monty growled to Elizabeth. "I can't stand couples who bicker and fight."

  Their first hurdle was the security man in the lobby of 101 Fifth Avenue, who had quickly surmised that this was not a group of regular workers entering the building. Elizabeth talked them through, though, explaining they were part of a surprise birthday party for Marion Ballicutt upstairs, and that he shouldn't wreck the surprise by calling up there ahead of them.

  "You'll have to sign in," the guard said.

  And so Elizabeth Robinson, best-selling historian, dutifully signed them all in as Elizabeth Farren, Lord Derby, Charles James Fox, Sarah and William Siddons, and the Drury Lane Theatre press corps, hoping against hope the guard was not overly familiar with eighteenth-century British history.

  The building elevators were not large, and so it was with a bit of pressure that they managed to pack themselves and all of their equipment in. The DBS camera started to roll.

  It was a long and heavy haul up to the eleventh floor and the creaking elevator was causing all of them mild anxiety.

  "Wait!" Elizabeth suddenly cried, pushing the 10 button.

  ""What are you doing?" Millicent asked.

  "They have to buzz us into the offices," Elizabeth said as the el­evator stopped. ""When they see all of us and these cameras, there's no way they're going to let us in." The doors opened and Elizabeth stepped out, holding the doors back. "I think Monty should go up and get in first, or I should, and then we'll let you people in."

  "She's right," Monty said quickly, "everybody out."

  "Oh, dear, this is getting rather complicated," Millicent said.

  "So how do we know when to come up?" Jordan asked.

  As the crowd got out the elevator doors were shaking and bang­ing, trying to close after being held open so long. People on the tenth floor were peering at them out of the reception window. The DBS camera was still rolling and every time it swung in somebody's direction, they instinctively stopped frowning and touched at their hair.

  "Look, I'm going up," Monty said. "Elizabeth, I think you should come with me. You guys, come up in about two minutes, okay?"

  They agreed and Monty and Elizabeth got back in the elevator and continued up to the eleventh floor, where Monty pushed the buzzer for Hillings & Hillings. They both smiled very nicely when James Stanley Johnson looked through the glass door. He did not smile back. He did not buzz them in either. Instead, he turned around and dashed out of the waiting room.

  "Damn," Montgomery said. "He's not going to let us in."

  "Is there another way in, I wonder?" Elizabeth said.

  "Freight elevator?" he asked her.

  They turned around to find that their elevator was gone. They pushed the button about nineteen times and it did not come up. "The stairs, Monty," she said, pointing.

  They opened the staircase door and a bell went off, but it stopped when the door closed behind them. They went down to the tenth floor and tripped another alarm, which soon went off again, but the only people standing there were the office workers. "Where are the people who were here?" Monty demanded.

  "They're in there," they said, pointing to the elevator. "It's not moving, they're stuck."

  "Wait!" cried a worker, his ear against the elevator door. "It's moving, I think."

  "Upstairs?" Elizabeth asked Monty.

  They ran back up the stairs to the eleventh floor. No one was there. No one would answer the buzzer to the offices. They looked at each other and ran back down to ten, setting off alarms wherever they went. "Is there a freight elevator?" Monty gasped to one of the women. She nodded. "Can we cut through?" he begged. "We have to get up to the eleventh floor."

  She hesitated until someone said, "It's Montgomery Grant Smith, the radio guy, help him," and that seemed to give her per­mission because she quickly led them through the maze of the accounting offices to a fireproof back door. She slid the bolt across and opened it, revealing a hallway, bathrooms, another staircase, and the freight elevator.

  They pushed the elevator button and pushed it and pushed Elizabeth whipped around to Monty, who was very red in the face. She prayed he wouldn't have a heart attack. "Stairs?"

  He nodded, heaving himself in that direction, and they went tearing up the stairs, throwing open the door on the eleventh floor, and literally careened into Marion Ballicutt and James Stanley Johnson, who were standing by as two workmen pushed out a trolley of boxes through the back door of Hillings & Hillings.

  "In the name of the Supreme Court of the state of New York, I hereby impound these boxes and all property belonging to the offices of Hillings & Hillings at One Hundred One Fifth Avenue!" Monty said, flinging the papers at James Stanley Johnson.

  "No, to her," Elizabeth said, snatching them back from the accountant and thrusting the papers into the hands of the lawyer.

  "What the hell is this?" one of the workmen said under his breath.

  The other workmen said something in another language.

  "You two," Monty bellowed at them, "get out of here—before it's too late."

  They looked at each other but didn't move, hands still on the trolley.

  "Take these boxes downstairs as I instructed," Marion Ballicutt told them.

  "Bullshit you do!" Monty said. He was a mess, sweaty, nearly purple in the face, shirttail completely out of his pants.

  "Montgomery Grant Smith, I believe," Marion Ballicutt said. "And Professor Robinson," she said, nodding to Elizabeth. "I mu
st inform you that we are no longer on Hillings & Hillings property, and that you have no right to impede us, or the removal of these boxes from the premises."

  "Lady, if you think you're moving these boxes out, think again," Monty said, pushing the trolley back toward the doorway of the offices.

  "I'm warning you, Mr. Smith!" she said, as the two workmen stood their ground, hefting their shoulders against the trolley to squarely oppose Monty's efforts. Monty gave a grunt and a heave and pushed the trolley back about six inches. The workmen coun­tered, but Monty, gritting his teeth and jamming against the trolley like a linebacker, grunted, "No way, you fuckers, no way," Marion Ballicutt yelled, "Help them, James!" and then there was a horren­dous crashing sound from inside the Hillings & Hillings offices, and all of them just stood there a moment stunned, trying to figure out what the noise had been, and then they heard men shouting and squawks of walkie-talkies and suddenly the door of the offices came crashing open, smashing against the wall, and New York's Finest were standing there, guns drawn, crying, "Halt! Don't move!" and after the first initial shock wave passed over her, Elizabeth had to smile, because over the shoulders of the police was the DBS News camera getting the scene.

  Everyone started talking at once and the talk turned to furious shouting and the police, doubting just about everything everyone was saying, made them all leave the premises. They proceeded to seal the offices with padlocks and chains and alarming yellow ban­ners that announced it as a crime scene. Marion Ballicutt, the work­men, and James Stanley Johnson were taken downstairs in one elevator by the police, while Monty, Elizabeth, and the DBS news crew were taken in another. As Monty and Elizabeth were escorted across the sidewalk to a waiting police car, they spotted Millicent, Louise, and Jordan in the crowd that had gathered behind a police blockade.

  "Call Josh," Elizabeth shouted over the noise. "Tell him the police impounded the office—they didn't get any files out, but we can't get at them either."

  "Call this number and page this guy," Monty said, stretching to hand Jordan a card. "Tell him to call Josh Lafayette—the number's on the back—tell him to call immediately for instructions."