out with them, but instead of entering the restaurant, she ducked into the short flight of service stairs that led to the roof. From there she had a fine view of upper Manhattan, with the dark mass of Central Park directly in front of her and traffic crawling by a long way below on the street. A cutting wind blew her hair around, and she slipped on a knit cap to hold it in place. "Here we go!" she said aloud.
She fixed her ropes and swung over to the roof of the Plaza. From there she tied her rope to a cornice and, taking a deep breath, swung out again into space, bracing herself with one foot so as not to spin. The stars and the street seemed equally distant as she lowered herself to the level of the apartment windows.
They were open, saving her from having to cut through them with a vibrator tool.
She swung in through the billowing white curtains, landed soundlessly inside the darkened apartment, and rolled to her feet. She could see pretty well with the infrared enhanced goggles she now snapped on. Her feet were set in a defensive pose, but there was no one there. She gave the rope a snap and it came free from the cornice. She wound it around her waist. Now there was no evidence of her means of entry.
She looked around the apartment. It was large, with a drawing room and a separate bedroom. She checked out the kitchen. The refrigerator was filled with a very good brand of champagne, and there were tins of caviar in the pantry. This Khalil seemed to live on the rarest of fare. The question now was where did he keep the jewelry?
She knew that Gibberman had chosen this mark carefully. Ahmed Khalil was renowned as an international playboy. He loved to give expensive gifts to his ladies of the evening. But where did he keep the trinkets?
She had already learned from inside sources that he didn't entrust them to hotel safes. He wanted them close at hand for the moment when he chose to reward his current lady.
She moved quickly around the apartment Although the place was big, it was still only a hotel suite. The stuff has to be here somewhere...
And then, suddenly, the lights came on.
"Good evening, my dear," a deep, resonant voice said.
Julie saw a tall, very thin, dark faced man leaning negligently against the wall. He was wearing a checked headdress. He had a short beard and luxuriant mustache. His face was narrow, and he had a hawk's nose with a large mole in the left corner. Standing beside him was another man, also an Arab, but large - in fact, huge - with a full head of fuzzy black hair and so much facial hair that his features were all but obscured. Julie, however, had no trouble seeing the knife he held in his right hand.
"What are you doing here?" Julie asked. "You're supposed to be seeing an opera."
Khalil, the tall thin man, smiled. "Your information is reliable, but so was my counterintelligence service. We always keep an eye on Gibberman when we come to New York. He's stung us before. We knew when you visited him to set up the job. Didn't we, Sfat?"
The giant smiled and touched the point of his dagger with the ball of his thumb.
Khalil said, "Gibberman was happy to tell us what he had set up for this evening."
Julie nodded. Talk about luck.
"You mustn't hold it against Gibberman for talking," Khalil said. "When Sfat takes the knife to somebody, secrets are shouted from the rooftops. His skill is better than a surgeon's. With that knife he can lay bare a single nerve, in the arm, for example, and play on it as if it were the string on a violin. It is an unforgettable experience, my dear, and one I'm sure you wouldn't want to miss."
Julie thought of how she had told Stan that nothing ever went wrong. What a laugh! Of course, it was all bad luck. How could she nave guessed that Khalil would find out about Gibberman? She had discounted the efficiency of the counterintelligence corps these rich Arabs employed.
"Well, Khalil," Julie said, "looks like I'm foiled and caught in the act. Have your man step away from the door and I'll leave quietly."
Khalil smiled. "I'm afraid it's not going to be so easy, my dear."
"You're going to turn me over to the police?"
"Eventually. If there's enough left