All the Colors of Darkness. Lloyd Biggle jr.
interested me. I was waiting in line at Gate Nine while she was waiting at Gate Ten, and I was watching when her turn came. I saw her start down the passageway towards the transmitter. She had this handbag, not over her shoulder, but in her hand. I saw her come back without it. Obviously she shifted it around in front of her, so your gate attendant couldn’t see what she was doing, and tossed it through. I wanted to wait and see what the hell was going on, but my turn came, so I dropped it. I don’t know how she managed the disappearing act, but I’m certain it was managed.”
Murmurs of approval came from around the table. “How do you like that?”
“Lucky thing for us—”
“Bright fellow, to spot that.”
Watkins rapped for order. “You’re an extremely observant young man, Mr. Darzek.”
“I earn my living by being observant.”
“That’s all right as far as it goes,” Arnold said. “Smith says—Smith was the attendant on Gate Ten—Smith says, and I quote.” He took a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and read. “‘I had my eyes on her every minute. She wasn’t an easy dame to take your eyes off. She started up there as if she was going on through, and then she turned around and came back, and said, “Are you sure everything is all right? I mean, it’s a long way to Honolulu, and I’d hate to fall in the ocean. Salt water isn’t good for my hair.” And lots of crap like that. I said, “Lady, if you don’t want to make the trip, just step aside. There’s people waiting.” Finally I called Mr. Douglas, and he asked her if she wanted her money back, and all of a sudden she turned and walked on through as if nothing had happened, but Honolulu didn’t give me an acceptance light. I waited, and then I called Mr. Douglas again.’ So we’re all right up to where Darzek left for Paris. She walked up to the transmitter and got rid of the handbag. Why, incidentally?”
“To magnify the mystery,” Darzek said.
“Of course. If she’d disappeared without a trace, we might not have known we had a mystery. A handbag without a woman attached screams of foul play. She got rid of the handbag, and then she turned around and came back. Darzek left at that moment, but it wouldn’t have helped us if he’d stayed to watch. Only the gate attendant could see the transmitter, and Smith swears he saw her step through. And she couldn’t have gone anywhere but into the transmitter. She couldn’t leave the passageway without coming back through the gate.”
“What about Honolulu?” Darzek asked. “Could she have got through there without being seen?”
Arnold shook his head. “I’ve checked. Believe me, I’ve checked. I’ve been onto everyone who was anywhere near that Honolulu receiver. The only way she could have got through there without being seen was to turn invisible. For the time being I’m ruling out that possibility.”
“What do you want me to do?” Darzek asked Watkins.
“Find her.”
Darzek shook his head emphatically. “Now you are oversimplifying things. By this time she could be anywhere. I run a small agency, and the world is a rather large place.”
“Hire as many men as you need.”
“She probably was disguised,” Darzek said. “I suspect that her long blond hair was a wig, and also that she wasn’t accustomed to high heels. I’m certain I’d recognize her if I saw her again, disguised or not, but I’ve had practice. I’d have a tough time describing her so someone else could recognize her with her disguise off, or with another disguise on. What if she were to change to a red wig, unpad her figure, put on low heels, turn the mole on her cheek into a fancy birthmark, and do another disappearing act—say from your Los Angeles Terminal? Then you’d have two missing passengers, and there’s nothing to prevent her from keeping that up indefinitely. I’d suggest that you forget about the blonde, and concentrate on figuring out how she did it.”
“Good Lord!” Grossman moaned. “This is worse than I thought.”
“There may be another way to look at this,” Darzek said. “If you’d be interested—”
“Certainly,” Watkins said. “What is it?”
“It seems to me that this problem has two angles. One is the mechanics of the disappearance—how the woman worked it, and where she went. If she actually stepped into that transmitter and didn’t come out where she was supposed to, that’s Arnold’s problem. I wouldn’t know where to start on it.”
“I wouldn’t either,” Arnold said. “But I agree. It’s my problem.”
“The other angle is that someone is obviously trying to embarrass Universal Trans. I’ll give you odds that the woman didn’t think this trick up all by herself. The question of who is doing it, and why, is a proper one for my type of investigation, and if you want me to take it on I will.”
“It seems a logical approach to the problem,” Watkins said. “I think we should accept.”
There were frowns around the table, but no objections.
“All right, Mr. Darzek,” Watkins said. “We’ll give you every assistance within our power, and naturally we all wish you a speedy success.”
“Do you have some kind of procedure in mind?” Miller asked.
“I have a number of moves in mind.”
“What kind of moves?”
“If you don’t mind,” Darzek said, “I think the fewer people who know about them the better.”
Miller flushed. “This is ridiculous!”
“Good Lord!” Grossman said. “If the company officers can’t be trusted—”
The door opened. Perrin, of the engineering staff, stumbled into the room, breathing heavily. He did not speak. He did not have to speak.
“Another one?” Arnold asked.
Perrin nodded. “Some old dame left on a Chicago hookup. All that got to Chicago was her umbrella.”
“Umbrella?” Darzek said quickly.
CHAPTER 6
Several of the directors were quickly enmeshed in a violent argument, and Darzek sat back calmly and began to study and classify them. Too many times in the past he’d had greater difficulties with the client than with the client’s problem, and the longer he listened the less he liked the idea of working for Universal Trans.
Watkins was the philosopher, the man of vision, who was at the same time intensely competent and practical. Watkins was unique. The rotund treasurer, Grossman, swung from bland optimism to dire pessimism, and instantly translated either into monetary terms.
Harlow, the attorney, had already dispensed with the legalities of the situation to his own complete satisfaction, and was unable to understand what all the fuss was about. Miller harped on his freight theme with such single-minded intensity that Darzek suspected unplumbed depths to his character—or no depths at all. Cohen and Vaughan, the two vice presidents, each sought bitterly and transparently to expose the other as a dunce, and both were successful.
Darzek pried the argument apart sufficiently to insert a question. “How many directors are there?”
“Twelve,” Watkins told him.
Darzek got to his feet. “I thank you for your consideration, gentlemen, but I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want the job.”
He pushed his chair back, and started for the door.
Arnold, who had lost himself in a perspiring, stricken meditation, snapped to attention. “What’s the matter, Jan?”
Darzek turned. “Gentlemen, I am a Universal Trans stockholder. After listening to you for fifteen minutes, I can understand only too well why the company has had problems. It is said that Nero fiddled while Rome burned. This Board would talk while