Free 11 Harrowhouse by Gerald A Browne

Massey.”
    It came to Chesser that he might not be able to handle the deal. Here it was, falling right into his pocket, and he couldn’t handle it. Because he’d have to lay out the money in advance for the rough stone and also pay for the cutting. He didn’t have enough capital for that. He probably wouldn’t collect anything until he delivered. Massey was overestimating his financial ability, thought Chesser. Evidently, Massey thought he was somebody like Whiteman.
    Again Massey seemed to be tapped into Chesser’s mind. “I’ll give you a certified check for the full amount,” he said, “today, before you leave. I’m sure in the million and a half there’ll be some profit for you.”
    Chesser was also sure of that.
    â€œNow,” sighed Massey, rising, “let’s all take a walk down through the orchard. The apple trees are still blooming.”
    Two hours later they were at the front of the house. The rear door of a Rolls was open. Hickey was standing by. It was a different car, a black custom saloon. Chesser and Maren were about to leave for London.
    Massey took Chesser aside. He gave him the check, which was folded once. Chesser knew better than to look at it then. He inserted it into his jacket pocket.
    â€œBy the way, Chesser,” said Massey in a low, covered tone, “you should realize something.”
    Chesser sensed a change in Massey. The two men were eye to eye.
    Massey said, “All that running off at the mouth I did about women and flowers and food was nothing but bullshit. Understand?”
    Chesser knew the Massey he now faced was the true Massey—competent, powerful, cool, and direct, laying it right on the line.
    â€œI understand,” said Chesser.
    â€œI was concerned with your control,” said Massey. “That was the thing.”
    They shook hands and went to the car. Maren was already in the back seat. Chesser said his good-bye to Lady Bolding, who gave him an accepting smile as her parting grace.
    â€œSee you in a month,” said Massey.
    Then they were on their way. Chesser took out the check and looked at a million and a half, certified, made out to his name. Incredible.
    He wanted to show it to Maren but money was the farthest thing from her mind.
    She asked: “You think she’s more attractive than I?”
    â€œNo. Definitely not.”
    â€œThat’s good. Because when we went in the house to freshen up, she kissed me.”
    â€œShe didn’t.”
    â€œShe did. Right on the mouth, tongue and all.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œNo. But she wanted to.”
    He had to laugh. “You’re incorrigible.”
    â€œAnd intuitive,” said Maren.
    Massey remained in front of the house and watched the Rolls go out of sight. Well, he thought, that’s phase two. He was very pleased. Phase one had been choosing the prospect. Phase two had been to determine whether or not the prospect had what it would take.
    Massey was quite sure he had his man.

CHAPTER 6
    T HE FOLLOWING day was one of those bad-looking London days with a thick threat of rain hanging over everything.
    Maren got up at ten, glanced outside, and retreated to bed, covering her eyes with her hair.
    Chesser called The System. He was told Meecham wasn’t in. They wanted to put his call through to Berkely. Chesser didn’t want Berkely. He got the same treatment when he called again, and it wasn’t until his third try that the secretary said Mr. Meecham had just arrived. Chesser knew that was a lie.
    Meecham came on. “Yes, Chesser, what is it?”
    â€œI want to request a special sight.”
    â€œImpossible.”
    â€œI have a buyer for a large stone,” said Chesser.
    â€œWho?”
    â€œThat’s confidential.”
    â€œWhat do you consider large?” asked Meecham sarcastically.
    â€œLet’s start with two hundred carats.”
    Chesser enjoyed saying that, especially the way