Nightmare Time Read Free

listening to Duke Hines. When an hour and fifteen minutes went by Dad would have called—if he could!”
    Chambrun’s coffee cup made a clicking sound as he put it down in the saucer. “Why couldn’t he?” he asked.
    “Trouble connected with his job,” young Guy said. The corner of his mouth twitched as he fought to keep his cool. “He couldn’t always tell us, Rozzie and me, when he was coming home. His job isn’t like an office job with regular hours. And it’s dangerous. That’s why he carries a gun. But he keeps in touch when he can, and if he can’t make it at a time he’s named, he calls—always! When I woke up and he hadn’t called, I knew there was some kind of big trouble.”
    “Do you know who your father’s commanding officer is in Washington?” Chambrun asked.
    “Steve Martin,” Guy said. “Colonel Steve Martin in the Pentagon.”
    “Did your father have a private number for him?”
    “I suppose he may have, sir.”
    “Would it be up in 17C?”
    “I doubt it, sir. It would be private, and it would probably be in his wallet, which he’s carrying.”
    Chambrun pushed back his desk chair and stood up, “Ruysdale, take Guy up to my penthouse and stay there with him, will you?” When it’s business he neuters Betsy by calling her “Ruysdale.” “Jerry, take Ruysdale and the boy up there, then put penthouse security into effect. After that, a top-to-bottom search for Major and Mrs. Willis.”
    “Penthouse security” meant that the two elevators that go to the roof would be cut off at the floor below. There are three penthouses on the roof, one occupied by Chambrun, one by a fabulous old lady in her eighties named Victoria Haven, and the third held in reserve for special diplomatic dignitaries or famous movie stars who want their stay at the Beaumont to go unpublicized. I happened to know that Penthouse Number Three was unoccupied that night. So the elevators would be stopped at the thirty-ninth floor, guards would be stationed on the fire stairs, and no one would be able to get up to the roof without an okay from Chambrun—or Jerry Dodd. A “top-to-bottom” meant a search of every inch of space in the hotel for Major Willis and his wife, no matter how irritating that might be for hundreds of guests who had already retired for the night.
    Chambrun put his hand on the boy’s shoulder. “I’ll join you in my quarters when I’ve been able to contact your father’s boss,” he said. “You’re quite sure, Guy, that there wasn’t any misunderstanding between you and your folks?”
    “Positive, sir. My dad would never leave me hanging out to dry.”
    Chambrun patted his shoulder. “We’ll do everything we can to find him, Guy. Keep your chin up. And don’t let Ruysdale persuade you to play gin rummy with her. She’s unbeatable.”
    “Yes, sir.”
    LOCATING Colonel Steve Martin in Washington was not easy. Whoever answered the telephone in the Pentagon didn’t choose to be cooperative at first. He wouldn’t give Chambrun a home phone for Colonel Martin. The next morning after ten o’clock would be the time to make a call. Chambrun could sound like a Good Samaritan or a hanging judge, and he chose to play the latter role. He wasn’t calling to ask the Colonel for a favor, rather to do him one. Major Willis, one of the Colonel’s men, was in big trouble. If that didn’t matter to the Colonel…
    The man on the other end said he would contact Colonel Martin and if the Colonel chose, he would call Chambrun. Chambrun gave the man a number—his private phone, not the hotel switchboard.
    “If you start waking people up in their rooms at two-thirty in the morning, there’s going to be hell to pay,” I said.
    “You know how long it will take to search every room in this hotel, Mark? Too damn long, but it must be done. Security will go to sleeping quarters last of all.”
    “You don’t think the boy is stirring up a tempest in a teapot?” I asked. “A message miscarried, the