The Second Lady by Irving Wallace

Author:Irving Wallace
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 2012-05-23T01:50:24+00:00

The appearance of Billie Bradford, or the one who was supposed to be Billie Bradford, emerging from the elevator into the lobby of Claridge’s, was unexpected and caught Guy Parker by surprise.

It was early afternoon of the following day, and Parker had left his claustrophobic room over an hour ago to sit in the lobby, scan the newspapers, reread some of his research, perhaps take a walk, and pass the time between one o’clock and four when he had an interview appointment with Billie.

He had spent the morning preparing to do what he had told Nora he must do — keep an eye, a close watch, on the possibly spurious First Lady. He had rented a car, an expensive dark blue Jaguar, a fast and manouevrable vehicle that would serve him well in city traffic and on the open highway once he got the hang of the right-hand drive. He had tipped one of Claridge’s top-hatted doormen generously to reserve a parking place for him across from the Brook Street main entrance. He had then sought Nora to find out the First Lady’s afternoon schedule, and had been disappointed to learn that Billie would be going nowhere this afternoon, would be seeing no one before meeting with him at four o’clock. After that, since the President was busy, Billie would be attending a musical comedy with Penelope Heaton, wife of the British Prime Minister, and they would have a late supper together with their party at The Mirabelle in Curzon Street. Wherever Billie went tonight, Parker knew that he would not be far behind.

Meanwhile, there had been nothing to do in the afternoon

but try to occupy the dull hours ahead until he worked with her. So he had been lolling in the lobby, reading, when he had just happened to glance up and see her leave the elevator.

It was really a surprise to see Billie Bradford alone, unaccompanied by her Secret Service men. He wondered how she had managed it, and then realized that it could be done, indeed had been done, quite easily. By traversing part of the maze of interlocking suites that wound around the first floor, she could avoid the Secret Service agents posted in the corridor, climb to the second floor, and take the elevator from there. That she did not want to be recognized or harassed was obvious. Her trademark tresses had been hidden inside a round wide-brimmed felt hat. Oversized dark sunglasses masked the upper part of her face, and the lower part was partially covered by the raised collar of a linen jacket. The camouflage might fool some people. It did not fool Guy Parker.

Hastily, he stuffed his research into his briefcase, bounded to his feet, and, keeping a short distance between them, he followed her out into Brook Street. As she made for the doorman, Parker passed behind her and strode swiftly toward the corner of Davies Street, then crossed over to his car.

He was in the Jaguar, swinging it out of the parking slot, just as he saw the flash of her leg disappear into the rear of a taxicab.

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