Chapter 2 - Landing On Her Feet: Chapter 2

                                        Landing On Her Feet

                                               by Volpone

                                              Chapter Two

          Selina arrived at room 901 just a minute or two past the appointed time. Couldn't have
him thinking she was too anxious.
          The plaque on the door said, "El Imperial", showing his room was not a room at all but
the hotel's best suite, occupying much of the hotel's top floor.
          She looked around and found no one in the halls, not even staff. She raised her
shoulders, adjusted her breasts for a bit more cleavage, and licked her lips just before the
door opened in response to her knock.
          Quinn looked her up and down and smiled.
          "Brava." He bowed her into the room. "Please... come in."
          She was dressed in an ankle-length backless dress in the deepest midnight blue that
clung like her skin, slit to the hip on one side and showing a great deal of what she had to
show on top. The dress' thin straps rode lightly on her bare shoulders, indicating that her
cantilevering was completely natural. There was no sign of a line in the dress to indicate
anything under it but Selina, which was plenty. Her black hair hung loose around her
shoulders. The overall effect was magnificent.
          As she strolled in, letting him enjoy the view she presented, she had a practiced look
around, taking in much of her surroundings at a glance. Gentle music played in the
background.
          Very nice, she thought to herself.
          Tiara rose and came to greet her guest. Selina bent to stroke the cat's beautiful coat,
again presenting Quinn with an unparalleled view.
          "I've been meaning to ask, how did you ever manage to convince the hotel to allow
Tiara in? Since I've been here, I haven't seen so much as a toy poodle."
          "Money," he answered frankly. "Ten thousand in non-refundable deposit, a million in
bond against mishap, and signed a liability contract relieving the hotel of all responsibility. I
also made sure the manager received a little something in his Christmas stocking."
          In a nonchalant manner, she inquired, "Ten thousand... Pesos?" The figure seemed
amazingly modest to her, considering the exchange rate.
          "Dollars."
          She was surprised, though she showed no outward sign. Not so modest a figure after
all. He had calmly dropped almost five times what her entire vacation was costing her just to
allow Tiara to stay with him.
          As he spoke, she looked about casually, ignoring the standard hotel appointments, but
a couple of notable exceptions came to her attention... including a beautiful, eight-inch long
crystal specimen of deep blue tourmaline on display on one side table. It was obviously not
part of the room's regular decor.
          "I also spread around a little money among the staff so that 'el gato blanco grande' and
señor Quinn would be honored guests, not 'gringos locos'. As a friend of mine once said,
'Money is the sincerest form of flattery'. I also call each employee by name and I never insist
they speak English to me. I simply refuse to play the role of the Ugly American. As a result,
people are quiet on this floor when señor Quinn is taking siesta. His things are never
disturbed. And no one would ever think of stealing from him."
          Selina thought to herself, At least none of the employees. She ran a finger along the
spine of a small Egyptian statuette of a cat. The thief in her was trying to calculate its value,
if real. Well into the six figure range, if not more. The temptation it presented was very
strong, especially considering her professional identity. Clearly he was showing off. No one
traveled with valuable décor items such as these.
          "A good thing, too. This is an original, isn't it?"
          Nodding, he said, "That's Bastet. She's about 4500 years old. Feel free to take a
better look."
          She did just that, carefully handling the precious cat, and enjoying the cool, smooth
curves of the black stone.
          "She's beautiful. And in remarkable condition."
          "Thank you. I was fortunate to know the right person at the right time."
          She replaced the figure on the table.
          "So, shall we?" He gestured to the low table in front of the couch, which was laid out
with fine black caviar, chilled champagne, cracked Alaskan king crab and other delicacies.
He poured champagne into two graceful crystal champagne tulips, handed her one,
and raised his own slightly.
          "May you drink deep and never thirst." His glass chimed musically against hers.
          She gave him a curious look, but drank with him.
          After sipping from her glass, she smiled and commented, "You don't do anything that's
expected of you, do you?"
          He smiled back, but refrained from comment.
          "That toast... it sounded different. Foreign. What is it? Arabic?"
          "No. Martian. Translated, of course. The original would probably break the glasses."
He said it with a straight face, but there was a twinkle in his eye.
          "Of course." She sipped again, then helped herself to some caviar. He joined her.
          Selina refused to fall back on questions like "Where are you from?" or "What do you
do for a living?" Besides, such questions would require her answering similar ones about
herself, and she felt oddly reluctant to lie to Quinn.
          What she really wanted was to come up with some witty sexual innuendo that wasn't
too blatant, just to keep things at a simmer. He obligingly gave her a good set-up line.
          "I hope the food is to your liking. I had to guess as to your taste."
          She quite deliberately licked the tip of one finger before responding.
          "I've been told I taste quite nice." She paused a beat, then continued. "Actually, you
guess quite well. I wonder if our taste in other areas matches as well." Again, she sucked at
the tip of one manicured finger while "innocently" gazing at him.
          "You'd better stop that, unless you want to trade places with the entree."
          Selina was quite pleased with the response, because that was exactly what she
intended.
          He turned to Tiara, who was sniffing towards the floral arrangement decorating the
table.
          "Tiara, stop that. Those are for Miss Kyle. Here. You can have this instead." He
offered her a large hunk of king crab, which she lapped with her wide, rough tongue. "And
yes, you're beautiful." He ruffled the fur on her head.
          "Miss Kyle" really noticed the flowers for the first time. Arranged in the beautiful
Lalique crystal vase were several spikes of small tropical orchids, some tiny white sprays of
flowers, and... catnip.
          Her breath caught.
          He continued. "I've had the worst time keeping her out of them." Then he laughed
gently. She relaxed the very tiniest bit. It wasn't a threatening laugh.
          "I couldn't resist. It was just too appropriate. But it's not as if I didn't drop you a few
hints earlier."
          "You've known who I am all along?" It was said somewhat accusingly.
          "I'm sorry. The last thing I wanted to do was frighten you. I just couldn't let the
evening go any further without telling you I know that you're Catwoman."
          Damn! she thought.
          Her mind went into high gear. Who was he? Did he work for the prince? That son-ofa-
bitch "Dave" and the organization that blackmailed her into stealing the Swan Crown?
Could he be the Bat? (She quickly dismissed that one... different nose, narrower chin, and
definitely unique eyes.) Or was he some independent who made a lucky guess? Dammit!
She'd really liked him!
          But then she really started analyzing the situation. If he intended her harm, he could
have drugged her champagne, or any number of things. She hadn't suspected a thing. She
must be slipping.
          Then her first "fight-or-flight" reaction ebbed away, and she realized he was still gently
holding her hand, waiting for her. She disengaged her hand gently but firmly. She needed to
think.
          His voice echoed her thoughts.
          "It's okay. You know I'm not one of the bad guys. You've known instinctively from the
moment we met. If I were, I'd have no reason to tell you and put you on your guard."
          He ticked points off on in order.
          "Okay. If I were one of the Prince's men, I would not be trying to seduce you. Not
when the Prince still wants you as the guest of honor at a wedding, willing or not.
"If I worked for the organization that's blackmailing you, you'd have awakened back at
their little mountain resort without ever suspecting a thing.
          "If I were even an every day, run-of-the-mill jerk, I'd have saved the bouquet for the
morning after we made love. And if you didn't come here tonight intending to either seduce
or be seduced, then you didn't feel a fraction what I did today."
          He reached out and took her hands. This time she didn't pull away.
          "I would never want to hurt you, and if I'd waited until after to tell you, that's what would
have happened."
          She still refused to relax her guard completely.
          "You seem to know a great deal about my recent activities for our having just met."
          "I admit I first spotted you during the Mongol Dagger escapade. I almost stepped in
when you were injured, but security was too tight. But I have been keeping tabs on you ever
since. This is just the first opportunity I've had to contact you socially."
          "Why now?", she asked.
          He chuckled softly.
          "Before your arrival here, you would have been slightly pre-occupied, no? If I had
actually contacted you, you would have been sure I was one of the bad guys. And that would
have screwed up any chance for this to happen. As it is... you're still here."
          Selina realized he was right. She was still there. For some reason, she trusted him,
though years of caution told her he was a threat. Could her hormones be doing her thinking
for her?
          Then he threw in the clincher.
          "Trust your instincts. If not yours, then trust Tiara's. You don't think she'd behave as
she does if I were a bastard, do you?"
          That was what she'd missed... the cat. Tiara liked him. It was obvious. And he loved
her. So, she believed him.
          Still, she'd damned well make him sweat for what he pulled. And she expected
answers, too.
          She disengaged her hands.
          "So, you're nice to cats. And Hitler was kind to his mother. So?"
          The challenge hung between them for a moment or two, then he seemed to come to a
decision.
          "All right. 'Turn about's fair play.' Remember this name."
          He leaned forwards and she thought he whispered in her ear. It was not a name she
recognized.
          Quinn leaned back and continued conversationally.
          "There are people far nastier than any you've ever imagined who would pay millions,
or kill, or do just about anything for that name.
          "It's the name I was born with."
          He explained.
          "I go by the name Harlequin because I don't dare use my own. If you were to just say
my name aloud to someone in passing, you would be signing my death warrant. And please
don't think I'm exaggerating for effect. I'm telling you the simple, literal truth. The people who
want me dead wouldn't hesitate to bomb this entire hotel off the map to get me. If you said
my name aloud, right now, in the privacy of this room, I'd be as dead as Julius Caesar inside
of twenty-four hours. Deader. It would be just as if I never existed."
          He shifted position and his expression lightened.
          "Which would be a shame, since I have plans for the rest of the evening."
          She believed him, and she smiled.
          Then she decided to see if he would squirm.
          "So, if I were to say..."
          He raised one hand and interrupted. "Please... don't."
          Damn! He was serious.
          Her smile broadened slightly and she began again.
          "If I were to say..."
          He quickly leaned forward and kissed her, effectively silencing her for the moment.
          She was momentarily surprised, then relaxed and closed her eyes. The kiss was soft,
and gentle, lips barely parted. He drew the kiss out for only a few seconds, but it was long
enough.When he pulled back from the kiss, she sat unmoving, eyes still closed. Then she
drew a breath and returned from where she had been.
          She said innocently, "What was I saying?" Actually, if she had tried, she wouldn't have
been able to remember his name. It wasn't important anyway.
          They both smiled.
          "Thank you," he said, and arose to his feet.
          Selina was somewhat surprised, since she thought things were just getting interesting.
          He raised his voice so she could hear as he went into the other room.
          "I was going to save this for later, but since we're dealing with matters of this sort
already..."
          He returned carrying a small athletic bag. He sat, opened the bag, and drew out a
folder.
          "I want you to be free to do what you wish, and I want you out from under the influence
of your blackmailing playmates."
          He gestured with the folder and went on.
          "I did some research. It seems your shadowy acquaintances have a tendency to play
fast and loose with the law when it suits them.
          "One case of particular interest involves...", (here he opened the folder and handed it
to Selina), "a former Romanian SS officer by the name of Klosc." He indicated the picture in
the file. "This man. It seems that Herr Klosc was involved in looting art treasures from
occupied territories during the war. One such item he happened to carry off was a certain
painting by Boccatoria."
          Selina looked at Quinn as she made the connection. It was the object that she had
been blackmailed into stealing from a prince... a prince who had subsequently tried to kidnap
her and force her into marriage.
          "Exactly. Now, it seems that, after the war, your playmates made a deal with Klosc
whereby he walked away Scot free in exchange for certain considerations, and was relocated
to a hideaway for former Nazis in Ochoguay.
          "You may have heard some of this before. What you may not know is that if the
specifics of this deal were made public, it could cause problems for the deal-makers. Messy
problems. The kind they would prefer not to have. You see, Herr Klosc is still alive in his old
Ochoguay home with many of his geriatric compatriots. As old as he is, he's not in the best
of health, but he still firmly believes in the Reich, and could give highly embarrassing
evidence concerning the deal. This file includes details, background, maps, everything you
might need to locate Klosc. The reason I'm giving you this file instead of his confession is
that, were I to deliver the confession to you, you might think it's a set-up
          "On the other hand, if you were to obtain the confession yourself, it would prove to you
that the information is valid. Besides, I know you. You're the 'I'd-rather-do-it-myself' type,
anyway."
          He smiled again.
          "And that, my dear, would give you the lever you need to get them off your back."
          He handed her the case.
          "You'll also need cash for this operation. There's a hundred thousand dollars in there.
          It should be more than enough."
          Selina looked into the bag. Neat bundles of used, non-sequential American currency
looked back at her. She raised her eyes to Quinn.
          "Which leads to the big question... why?"
          "Why am I doing this?" She nodded.
          "For several reasons... First, I don't like people being used. Second, I especially don't
like you being used, because... Third, I like you a great deal, and I care what happens to you.
And last," he said with vehemence, "I'd like to see someone screw those blackmailing
bastards for a change, because they so royally deserve it."
          He poured more champagne for both of them, grabbed a cracker with smoked salmon,
and popped it into his mouth. Then he sat back and chewed while he waited for her to say
something.
          It took her a few moments to digest everything he had said. If he was right, she held
her freedom in her hands. Or what could lead to her freedom.
          She set down the bag, and picked up her glass.
          "Then, here's to sweet little old Nazis and the troubles they may bring."
          "Not particularly romantic, but, under the circumstances, highly appropriate."
          Their glasses again chimed, and they both drank deeply.
          He set his glass down, picked up a remote control, and pressed a button.
          "Now that business is completed..."
          The music changed, and the rather classical melody was replaced with a slow pop
ballad, "Crash, Boom, Bang". He stood up and held out one hand to her.
          "Would you care to dance?"
