Ashes To Ashes: Ashton Ford, Psychic Detective by Don Pendleton

the telephone console indicating
"Record Pause."
    I studied the console for a moment, doped
it, rewound the tape through three brief conversations, and hit the
playback.
    My own voice came through the speaker,
bearing the message of my grisly find out Stone Canyon.
    Then Kalinsky cussing in a husky voice to
himself, then a dial-out followed by a brief and cryptic
conversation:
    "Yeah."
    Kalinsky: "Okay, it's hit. Meet me out front
in two minutes. Better bring the squad."
    "Are we ready for this?"
    "We better be. Where's Herb?"
    "He's mobile."
    "Okay, we'll catch him on the way. Better
bring Mac."
    "He's been partying. May not be ready."
    Kalinsky: "Fuck that, just bring 'im."
    A hang-up, another dial-out, but already I
was beginning to sort the players. "Herb" was no doubt Herbert, one
of the security honchos; "Mac" was Macllliney or MacAllaney, the
lawyer who had hand-held Karen during the ordeal in my car.
    The second call-out was much more cryptic
and even more brief:
    "Yes, hello."
    "This is TK. I need that package. Can you
get started?"
    The other voice was cultured, mature, maybe
even silvery-haired. "You mean, right now? Do you know what time it
is?"
    "We both better know what time it is. Get
started. I'll contact you on the mobile."
    That was it. I removed the cassette and put
it in my pocket, replaced it with a blank, then gathered up the
doodles and took them, also, and got the hell out of there.
    I wanted a moment with Marcia before
Kalinsky and his goons returned to the palace.
    And maybe, time allowing, a shot at Doc
Powell's doodles.
    Time allowing
...
    The time factor had become all-important. As
important, probably, as life and death.
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Thirteen:
Engineering
     
    The Kalinsky quarters seemed to be a mirror
image of Karen's apartment, about the same size but reversed in
layout, and upstairs over the executive offices.
    Marcia was propped up with pillows on a
large, overstuffed couch. She wore silk pajamas and a dressing gown
but was otherwise uncovered. A large-screen projection TV was
playing an old movie at murmuring volume. She seemed a bit pale but
otherwise looked none the worse for the near-drowning
experience.
    I said, "How you doing?"
    It was a different Marcia from the one I'd
known as she replied, "Much better now, thanks. I understand you
saved my life. Thanks."
    I showed her a grin and a shrug. "Seemed the
thing to do."
    She said, "You're a nice man. And I have
been a terrible jerk. Sorry."
    I did not argue the point. I just said,
"Sure."
    "Have they found Karen?"
    I said. "Yeah. She's going to be okay."
    "Thank God. It was a stupid thing I—did you
hear about that?"
    I replied, "I heard a version. Like to hear
yours."
    "Why?"
    I said, "Karen is in deep trouble. She came
to me for help. I am trying to help. But I need a handle. What did
you say to her?"
    Her gaze fell away and there was a brief
silence before she replied, "I'd had too much to drink, but I was
not that drunk. I went down to make sure the staff was properly
setting up for dinner. Then I thought I might as well take a quick
dip because there really wasn't time for me to bathe and all. As I
entered the pool, I saw Karen standing in the shadows by the diving
board. She was wearing her yellow bikini. I remember thinking, well
how 'bout that, she remembered her suit this time and she doesn't
really need it. I mean, we always skinny-dip here after dark. I was
looking for her as I came up, to see if she was coming in with me.
I was looking straight at her and she was looking straight at me. I
know our eyes were locked all during that horrible struggle."
    I said, "What horrible struggle?"
    "I could not get to the surface." She
shivered in the memory of it. "It was as though a hand was holding
me under and I could not escape it. I fought like the devil, let me
tell you, but no matter what I did there was always a few inches of
water above my head."
    "How do you account for that?"
    She shifted position slightly on the