Montaro Caine A Novel - By Sidney Poitier Page 0,101

running out. This is an opportunity that may never come again.”

“A moment, Montaro,” Fritzbrauner said. “By what procedure was my property removed from my safe, and by whom? I would greatly appreciate whatever you can tell me.”

“I believe you already know the answer to that question. But you are not yet ready to accept it,” said Caine. “The truth is that you can’t win this one; but losing could teach each of us more than we ever thought we would know. There are huge, unimagined lessons waiting for us if we join forces and work together. In the end, what you hear may well be worth the money you have paid. I urge you to think about it and call me when you have reached a decision.”

Caine hung up the phone, then turned to the others in his living room. “What I’ve just told Fritzbrauner,” he said, “is what I learned last night, not through words, but through the images I saw.”

After a moment of silence in which each individual seated in Caine’s living room seemed to consider the implications of his statement, Howard Mozelle spoke up. “What about the second coin, the one Gabler has? Has it disappeared as well?”

“We’ll find out soon enough, but I’m certain it has,” Caine said. “And I’m equally certain that I know where it is.”

“And where is that?” Howard Mozelle asked.

“In the hands of Matthew Perch,” said Caine.

36

WHEN ANOTHER DAY AND NIGHT PASSED WITHOUT ANY WORD from Fritzbrauner or any progress in determining the whereabouts of Whitney and Franklyn Walker, Montaro summoned Lawrence Aikens and Curly Bennett to his apartment. Aikens appeared at Montaro’s door punctually as always, but, ten minutes past the appointed time, Curly, who seemed to be neglecting his duties of late, still had not arrived. Even though Montaro said nothing about Curly’s tardiness, Aikens, sitting in a chair opposite Caine, massaged the fingers of his left hand with those of his right, movements that spoke clearly of an unmistakable turmoil within.

Caine took a deep breath. “Let’s get to it,” he said. “We don’t have much time, so hear me well. You’ve been loyal to me. We’ve worked well together. I’ve trusted you. And I still do. I am not altogether sure I can turn Fitzer around, but I’m giving it my best try. If I manage to pull through, I’d like you to stay. If I don’t, and you do stay, I’d like to share with you something I learned from my grandfather. Some people don’t always mean what they want you to think they mean, but if you listen hard enough, your ears will begin to hear new things. One day you will be able to listen to someone and see their real meaning hidden underneath and between their words. And sometimes you will even find those meanings sitting right on top of their words for all to see, though most people will not see them because they don’t know that your eyes can hear the truth and your ears can see it. The other night, I heard truth with my own eyes and I saw it spoken with my own ears. Curly isn’t here yet, but I can hear what he is telling us.”

“What’s that?” Aikens asked.

“Curly’s a great assistant,” said Caine. “You will not find anyone better. But I believe that you’ve been driving him away, and that can cause problems for all of us if it hasn’t done so already. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

Aikens stared at Caine with a mixture of discomfort and embarrassment. “I’m here for you, Montaro,” he said.

“Good,” Caine replied with a smile.

When Curly arrived a few minutes later, Caine ushered the men into his office and gestured for them to sit. Then, he took a USB memory stick from a desk drawer and inserted it into one of his computer’s portals.

“I want you guys to listen to something,” he said.

The first sound to come out of the computer’s speaker was a ringing telephone. After the seventh ring, a man was heard to answer the phone.

“Curly Bennett here.”

“Hi, Curly Bennett, Gina Lao here. Remember me?”

“Gina Lao, of course.”

Caine tapped his keyboard and the recording stopped.

Turning to Curly, he asked, “That was your voice, yes?”

“It was.” Curly’s face was flushed.

“How close are you and Gina Lao?”

“Not very.”

“How many times have you spoken with her by phone?”

“Five or six times in the last few weeks.”

“Driven by romantic interest?”

“I think more on my part than hers. She is a girl of remarkably good