Free Westlake, Donald E - Novel 41 by Levine (v1.1)

look as though he would have been out
of the Academy very long.
                   I have news for you, Gundy, bethought. You
don't get used to it.
                   Crawley said, "What's the story?"
                   “I’m not sure," said Gundy. "He went
out there about twenty minutes ago. That's his son talking to him. Son's a
lawyer, got an office right in this building."
                   " What's the guy out
there want ?"
                   Gundy shook his head. "He won't say. He
just stands out there. He won't say a word, except to shout that he's going to
jump whenever anybody tries to get too close to him."
                   "A coy one," said Crawley , disgusted.
                   The phone shrilled, and Gundy stepped quickly
over to the desk, picking up the receiver before the second ring. He spoke
softly into the instrument, then looked over at the
man by the window. "Your mother again," he said.
                   The man at the window spoke a few more words
to the man on the ledge, then came over and took the phone from Gundy. Gundy
immediately took his place at the window, and Levine could hear his first words
plainly. "Just take it easy, now. Relax. But maybe you shouldn't close
your eyes."
                   Levine looked at the son, now talking on the
phone. A young man, not more than twenty-five or six. Blond crewcut, hornrim glasses, good mouth, strong jawline. Dressed
in Madison Avenue conservative. Just barely out of law school, from the
look of him.
                   Levine studied the office. It was a large
room, eighteen to twenty feet square, as traditional as the outer office was
contemporary. The desk was a massive piece of furniture, a dark warm wood, the
legs and drawer faces carefully and intricately carved. Glass-faced bookshelves
lined one complete wall. The carpet was a neutral gray, wall-to-wall. There
were two sofas, brown leather, long and deep and comfortable-looking. Bronze
ashtray stands. More framed photographs of plant buildings.
                   The son was saying, **Yes, mother. I've been
talking to him, mother. I don't know, mother."
                   Levine walked over, said to the son, "May
I speak to her for a minute, please?"
                   "Of course. Mother, there's a policeman here who wants to talk to you."
                   Levine accepted the phone, said, "Mrs.
Cartwright?"
                   The voice that answered was high-pitched, and
Levine could readily imagine it becoming shrill. The voice said, "Why is
he out there? Why is he doing that?"
                  "We don't know yet," Levine told
her. "We were hoping you might be able to — "
                   "Me?" The voice was suddenly a bit
closer to being shrill. "I still can't really believe this. I don't know
why he'd — I have no idea. What does he say?"
                   "He hasn't told us why yet," said
Levine. "Where are you now, Mrs. Cartwright?"
                   "At home, of
course."
                   "That's where?"
                   " New Brunswick ,"
                   "Do you have a car there? Could you drive
here now?"
                   "There? To New York ?"
                   "It might help, Mrs. Cartwright, if he
could see you, if you could talk to him."
                   "But —it would take hours to get there!
Surely, it would be —that is, before I got there, you'd have him safe already,
wouldn't you?"
                   She hopes he jumps, thought Levine, with
sudden certainty. By God, she hopes he jumps!
                   "Well, wouldn't you?"
                   "Yes," he said wearily. "I
suppose you're right. Here's your son again."
                   He extended the receiver to the son, who took
it, cupped the