the Hunted (1977) (7 page)

MEL BANDY TOOK HIS SHOWER in 823. It would be hi
s bedroom. When they got 824 fixed up with a couc h and refrigerator, it would be his sitting room, wit h a single bed in there in case he wanted the gir l handy. He didn't like a girl living in the same roo m with him or using his bathroom.

He had a Scotch with him in the steamy bathroom and sipped it while he dried off and shaved, standing naked in front of the wall mirror. H
e could use some sun. Drop about twenty-fiv e pounds right out of the middle, where he coul d grab a handful. He'd always tended to be a littl e heavy. But at thirty-eight, he told himself, he wasn'
t in any worse shape than half the guys at the Southfield Athletic Club. Slimmed down, though, or able to hold it in, it made your pecker look longer. H
e wondered if Rosie was making it with the Israel i girl. He wondered if the Israeli girl was an up-todate-thinking-today girl about sex. So you didn'
t have to go through a lot of shit and waste time.

Fucking jet lag. He'd get in bed. She'd come in.

He'd play it from there. "You must be worn out, al
l the running around. Why don't you come take a little nappy?"

Mel walked out of the bathroom naked.

Two guys he had never seen before in his lif
e were sitting in the chairs by the windows, each wit h a drink, the older of the two smoking a cigarette.

The younger one, with the hair, grinning.

"Jesus Christ, I think somebody's got the wron
g room. Huh? What is this?"

Standing there naked--not at the athletic club
, where it was all right--in a hotel room. Wanting t o show some poise, but wanting to cover himself.

"No, we got the right room," the older one said.

"We've come to visit you."

"You've come to visit. You walk right in--I
d on't even know you." He was looking around fo r something. The clothes he had taken off were o n the floor by his open suitcase.

"You know me," the older guy said. He waited
, seeing Mel bending over the suitcase, aiming hi s white ass at them. "Gene Valenzuela, Mel." It wa s as though the name goosed him, the way Me l Bandy came up straight and hurried to get into hi s pants.

"Three years ago . . ." Valenzuela was saying.

Turning, zipping up, Mel began to get himself together and effect a smile.

". . . at the Federal Building in Detroit. I wa
s down there with Harry Manza."

"Sure, I know your name, of course," Mel said.

"But I don't believe we ever really met."

"No, as I recall your friend had somebody els
e representing him with the grand jury," Valenzuel a said, "and I guess you handle his business lega l work. Is that it?"

The man was being nice, soft-spoken. He kne
w all about Mel and Mel could feel it. He hoped th e man continued to be polite. He hoped the man ha d a good ear and could sense when someone wa s telling the truth. He had never imagined himself being alone in an eighth-floor hotel room in this kind of situation. He didn't want to appear nervous. H
e wanted to calmly get right to the point, show the m he wasn't hiding anything. Fortunately, at the moment, he didn't have anything to hide. He didn't have the answer to what they were going to as k him. But they had to realize he was telling the truth.

He didn't know whether to sit down or kee
p standing. On the dresser there was another roomservice glass by the bottle of J&B and the ice. He fixed himself a drink, telling Gene Valenzuela yes , he'd been handling most of the company's lega l work for the past several years.

"But the reason you're here," Mel said--afte
r swallowing a good ounce of Scotch and warmin g up--"you saw the picture in the paper, the fire. If I s aw it, I assume you saw it too. So there's no sens e in kidding around, is there? You believe I'm in contact with him, since I'm here and I'm his corporate lawyer. But I'll tell you the absolute God's truth , gentlemen--I have no idea where he is."

There. Like making a confession without tellin
g anything. Mel took his drink over to the bed an d sat down on the edge of it.

Valenzuela sipped his Scotch. He said, "Yo
u come over to visit the Holy City, Mel? See the Wailing Wall?"

"No-no, I'm here on business. At least I came fo
r business reasons. I'm not gonna try and tell you I'
m a tourist. But I haven't heard from him and I h aven't been able to contact him. So--I don'
t know--I'll probably be going back in a couple o f days."

"Unless you hear from him."

"That's possible."

"I think you already did," Valenzuela said, "o
r you wouldn't be here."

"No, I swear I haven't."

"I mean since he almost got run over by a car.

What was that? Four days ago."

"Well, yeah, we heard from him at that time. I
d idn't personally. He called his office."

"And they sent you?"

"Actually I was coming anyway. See if we coul
d locate him and get some papers signed."

"See if you could locate him," Valenzuela said.

"Come on, Mel. You didn't have a phone number?"

"Honest to God. Nobody, and I mean nobody
, knows where he lives."

"What name's he using?"

Mel had known it was coming. He saw no choic
e but to tell them. As he said, "Rosen," both Valenzuela and the younger guy were looking up, away from him.

Tali came in through the connecting doors. Sh
e stopped and said, "Oh, excuse me," seeing the tw o visitors and Mr. Bandy sitting on the bed with hi s shirt off and his hair uncombed. And smiling at her.

The first time she had seen him in a good moo
d since he'd arrived.

"Tali," Mel said, "you want to call room service? Get some more ice and some peanuts and shit, you know, something to nibble on. Use the phon e in the other room."

"Not for us," Valenzuela said, looking at th
e girl. "Tali, you go sit over there by the desk."

She looked at Mel.

"Yeah, if you don't want anything," Mel said
, "that's fine."

The desk was built into the row of dressers, a
t the end nearer the windows. The younger gu y reached with his foot to pull the chair out an d stared at Tali as she sat down, half-turned fro m him, to face Mr. Bandy.

Valenzuela said, "What was the name again?"

Mel hesitated. "Rosen."

"Just Rosen?"

"Al Rosen. I think it's Albert."

"It's funny the names they take," Valenzuel
a said. "Al Rosen. Changes it from Ross to Rosen , like he doesn't want to change it too much and forget who he is. . . . What's he doing now?"

"I really don't have any idea," Mel said. "I
h aven't been in contact with him at all. In fact, thi s is the first time the company's asked me to do anything connected with him. I didn't even know where he was."

Tali watched Mr. Bandy, knowing he was lying.

Why? She had no idea who these men were. Sh
e jumped as she felt her chair jiggled.

Teddy Cass, his foot still on the rung, said
, "How about Tali here? Hey, you ever hear of a ma n name of Rosen?"

"Do I know him?"

"I asked if you ever heard his name."

She was looking at Mr. Bandy and saw his eye
s shift away, offering no help.

"I've heard the name, yes, from Mr. Bandy, but I
d on't know him."

"Tali's working for me while I'm here," Me
l said. "She's called a few hotels asking for a Mr.

Rosen. That's about it."

"What I'm wondering," Valenzuela said, "i
s what he's been living on. He bring some mone y with him?"

"He must've," Mel said. "Unless he's working."

Valenzuela shook his head. "That doesn't see
m likely. There isn't any kind of work over here coul d support him. I was thinking his company must b e sending him money."

"That might be," Mel said.

"But if that's the case," Valenzuela said, "I'
d think they'd get tired of carrying him. Thre e years--what's he done for the company?"

"So maybe they're not carrying him," Mel said.

Valenzuela stared at him for a moment. "For
a lawyer you're very agreeable, aren't you?"

Mel shrugged. "Why not? What you say make
s sense."

"You look like a pile of white dog shit," Valenzuela said, "but you're agreeable." He got up out of the chair and walked over to the dresser to pu t his glass on the room-service tray.

Mel sat with his shoulders drooping, tired. H
e seemed to shrug. "What can I say? I'm on th e wrong side. Guilt by association."

Tali felt the hand of the younger one move ove
r her back as he got up to walk past her. His touc h was frightening. The way they stood over Mr.

Bandy was frightening. As though they might pic
k him up and hurt him and he'd do nothing to defend himself. She watched the younger one walk toward the door, hoping he was leaving. But h e stooped to pick up a green canvas bag and droppe d it on the bed.

Teddy Cass looked at Valenzuela. "Guy come
s up with a bag and a package. Leaves withou t them."

Valenzuela said, "Mel, who's the guy? He wor
k for you?"

"He's a friend of mine," Tali said. "Tell them
, please, Mr. Bandy, he's a friend that came to see us.

He left, he forgot his bag."

"Jesus Christ," Valenzuela said, "what is this?

She winking at you? You keep your fingers crosse
d it's all right. Where's the package the gu y brought?" Valenzuela turned, looking around th e room.

"Yes, he brought something for us," Tali said.

She got up and went to the dresser, Mr. Bandy an
d the older man watching her. The younger one wa s zipping open the canvas bag. "This," Tali said , picking up the J&B.

"He brought you a bottle of booze," Valenzuel
a said.

Tali nodded. "Yes, as a present for Mr. Band
y coming here. Because I work for him. He was bein g nice."

"Nothing much in here," Teddy Cass said.

"Some dirty clothes." He held up a uniform shir
t that had been worn. "Guy's a sergeant in th e Marines. What's he doing in Tel Aviv?"

"He works at the embassy," Tali said. "I kno
w him for a little while. We're friends. So he bring u s this when my boss comes."

"It was wrapped like a package that'd bee
n mailed," Valenzuela said.

"There was some paper on it." Tali shrugged he
r shoulders. "I don't know."

"You want the wrapping paper?" Mel said. "I
t hink the room-service guy took it. Gene," he sai d then. "You mind if I call you Gene? You mind if I s uggest you're getting this all out of proportion?

You want Ross. Okay. Looking at it from you
r standpoint I accept that, I understand. But I cam e here, I planned to come here, hoping to see him o n business, on the chance of getting a few paper s signed. Then this thing happens, he gets his pictur e in the paper and it's a whole different ball gam e that I don't know anything about. I think the man'
s hiding and I don't blame him, do you? He's not a dummy. If he knows people are looking for him he'
s gonna stay out of sight. Or he might've already lef t the country. I don't know. Unless I hear from him--
w hich I admit is a possibility--there's no way I ca n contact him. So the chances are I'm gonna go hom e with my papers unsigned."

"Well, it sounds like you're giving me som
e shit," Valenzuela said. "Except you know the position you're in, so I don't think you'd lie to me."

"Listen, I've always been realistic," Mel said.

"I'm not gonna hit my head against a wall if I kno
w a situation is beyond my control."

"Or hit it on the pavement down there, eigh
t floors," Valenzuela said. "You hear from him, Mel , give me the papers. I'll get them signed for you."

When Mr. Bandy poured another Scotch Tal
i thought he might get drunk now because he wa s afraid and didn't know what to do. But he didn'
t get drunk. He sat in a chair sipping the drink, th e cold glass dripping on his stomach, and smoked a cigar. After looking so helpless, almost pathetic, h e was composed now and didn't seem worried. Sh e wanted to ask him all the questions that were jumping in her mind.

But they were interrupted. The men came wit
h the furniture and Mr. Bandy went into 824 to tel l them where to place the couch and refrigerator an d extra chair. When the men left, Mr. Bandy told he r what he wanted stocked in the refrigerator: different kinds of cheeses, olives, soda, smoked oysters.