It was nearly dark by the time Carlo reached Marceau's mansion atop Nob Hill. Nick, the huge Nubian valet, directed Carlo to a large walnut-paneled study which was Marceau's working room.
"Ah, Carlo, my boy. It's good to see you again," Marceau greeted him from behind an enormous desk in one corner of the room. "You have done your part, I trust?"
"Marceau, you know me better than that. Have I ever let you down?" Carlo answered, striding toward the warmth of a marble fireplace which dominated the wall adjacent to Marceau's desk. "They will all be here. And you? Have you prepared the little surprise I phoned you about?"
Marceau Verner III stroked his neatly trimmed beard thoughtfully and watched Carlo carefully through half-shut lids. "My boy, you never cease to amaze me. First you give me less than a full day to prepare, and then you phone me hours before the party with some special request. And to top it off, you expect to extract from me a commission for your, eh, services." His hand slid forward several inches and tapped a plain white envelope lying in the middle of the huge desk.
Carlo eyed the man narrowly. "Ah, yes, Marceau, but it is not everyone who could bring you such beauties. Young virgins. And six of them."
Marceau sat motionless, his eyes closed, only the tip of his tongue flicking once through compressed lips, betraying whether he was asleep – or dead. After a few moments his lids fluttered open and the corners of his mouth twisted upward in a wry smile. "Ah, Carlo, forgive me. Growing cynical is the leprosy of advancing age. Forgive me, please," he said, rising. "A brandy?"
"Yes," was all Carlo replied as he watched Marceau limp slowly to the well-stocked bookcase bar. His gout must be getting worse, Carlo mused. It was a shame really. He wasn't that old. If it gets much worse I'm liable to lose a customer, he thought, walking quickly to meet him and take the offered drink.
"To our success," Marceau said, raising his glass in toast. They both sipped, then, Marceau lowering his glass continued: "I have taken the liberty of having Meg set a place for at the dinner table. It is not well for one to work on an empty stomach. No? And then we shall tour the ballroom and the top floor. You agree?"
"Umm," Carlo answered, lowering the glass from his lips. It really was good brandy. Expensive. Marceau did have good taste. Well in most things. "Yes. That would be great," Carlo answered. It wasn't often he was treated to fine brandy and an exquisite dinner. Only once before had Marceau invited him to dine.
When dinner was finished, both Carlo and Marceau sat quietly, contemplating. It had come to Carlo during dinner that Marceau was the only man he had met whom he admired. Now, as he sat, sipping an after dinner cordial, he wondered if it was really the man he admired or his ways; his aristocratic grace, his wealth, his passion for getting what he wanted. Somehow, Carlo knew, that he too would someday acquire all of these.
"My boy," Marceau began, interrupting Carlo's musings, "We had better be off. The guests will be arriving soon, and there are still some details that must be taken care of. Come, I will show you to the elevator. As you know, I have made many changes since you were here last. Meg is already upstairs and she will show you around."
As they walked to the elevator, they passed the grand ballroom. The room blazed with light from three huge chandeliers. Three waiters arranged a buffet on tables set up at the far end of the room, while on a dais opposite the buffet, a five-man ensemble was tuning up. The thought crossed Carlo's mind that Marceau was indeed a careful man. Should any uninvited or unwanted guests drop in, the respectable party with its legitimate guests should provide a perfect cover.
When they reached the elevator, Carlo noticed there was now a second one next to the one Carlo had always used before. Marceau took a key from his pocket and placed it in a lock where the call button usually was. He turned it and the doors opened. Removing the key, he handed it to Carlo; then stepped aside to let him enter.
"All you have to do is press the up button," he said. "There are no stops between the foyer and the top floor. You do the same in reverse when you come down."
Carlo nodded, then smiled. He pushed the button and the doors hissed closed.
Meg was waiting for Carlo as the elevator doors opened. She was in her late twenties, tall, slim, and brown-eyed, with darkly burnished auburn hair tied neatly with a black ribbon behind her head; she was wearing a simple, expensive dress in basic black with one unobtrusive gold pin on her shoulder.
Carlo smiled at her and she returned the smile. "Let me show you around," she said.
She turned and he noticed she had a good ass, fine legs, and slim ankles. He followed her around the circular corridor. Everything was white, highlighted only by paintings; paintings in gilded frames mounted on red velvet; paintings of nude men and women depicting various forms of copulation.
Meg caught his gaze. "All the paintings are from Mr. Verner's private collection." She stopped at the only door on the right and opened it, letting him walk in ahead of her. He stood there for a moment. It was almost unbelievable. The entire circular room was actually a small amphitheater; half of the room was a slightly sunken stage, the other half consisted of private booths facing it. An elaborate fountain, fashioned entirely of colored glass, played in the center of the otherwise bare stage. Opposite were five booths; two accommodating eight, and the center booth accommodating perhaps a dozen. They were designed so that from within, only the stage could be seen.
Carlo walked to one of the end booths and looked inside. On the back wall, behind the cushioned, horseshoe-shaped seat, was a built-in bar. It was well stocked and ready for action, including several bottles of champagne chilling in ice buckets. On the veneered table was a silver tureen resting on an ornate warming rack. There were also cigarette boxes, a humidor, matches, and ashtrays. "As usual, Marceau has seen to everything," Carlo mused to himself. He turned and nodded to Meg. Just before they reached the door he noticed a recessed alcove on one side of the stage. He stopped, and the brunette, following his gaze, replied, "Dressing rooms." Carlo glanced at her briefly and then followed her back into the corridor.
They continued around the circular corridor with its miracle of nude paintings, and by the time they had reached the elevator again, Carlo was curious. He had counted nine doors leading off the corridor – all on the left side. Six of them were of different colors, three white. The first had been painted blue, the second green. Then there had been a white one, then violet red and another white. Meg noticing his puzzled expression, opened the white door. He stepped inside and found himself in a dimly lit, narrow hallway. He walked perhaps fifteen feet and came to a dead end.
Puzzled, he turned just as Meg flipped a hidden switch by the door and suddenly both sides of the blank walls were floor-to-ceiling glass, and he was looking into empty bedrooms on either side. Immediately he realized that Marceau had designed a voyeur's delight – a double delight! Meg beckoned to him and he retraced his steps to the door. She flipped the hidden switch again and the walls were once again bare. She closed the door silently and walked back a few feet to the yellow door. Once again she opened the door and let him enter first. He was in one of the bedrooms he had just seen from the hallway. Meg turned a dial and the triangular room gradually lit up. It looked like a stage setting; with only one exception, the entire room was done in contrasting yellow's; rug, ceiling, and a giant round bed almost in the center of the room. The exception being the walls; they were mirrors, floor to ceiling.
Carlo looked at Meg. "No outside windows?"
Meg walked to the bed and pressed the first of a series of buttons on a small night table. There was a low humming sound as the ceiling rolled back and through the now glassed ceiling a few evening stars twinkled between scattered clouds. She pushed another button and a cool wave of fresh air invaded the room.
Before the Italian guide could catch his breath, she pushed yet another button and the giant bed began to slowly rotate; then another and television sets appeared from each of the three mirrored walls. He watched breathlessly as each of the sets came on, each showing the same identical scene – a room just like the one he was in. The only difference was that each room was a different color – blue, green, and violet.
Now she pushed another button and all three sets changed; blue changed to red, green to orange, and violet to yellow – and smack in the middle of the set showing the yellow room, stood Carlo, wearing an incredulous grin. Abruptly, the sound of rainfall reached his ears, then the sound of muted, sensual music. Suddenly, he realized the girl had touched more buttons. He walked to the bed just as she pushed the first seven buttons in reverse order and in moments the room was restored to its original state.
He was shaking his head as he followed Meg to the door and back to the elevator. Well, Marceau had certainly done his part, he thought, the rest would be up to him. He knew it wasn't going to be easy. It would be like a performer juggling a half-dozen eggs. If he dropped one they were all going to wind up scrambled.
Mentally he began to go over the plan in his mind, ticking off the details in sequence. He had staggered the times he had told everybody to be there. First arriving would be Benito and Hannah, followed shortly by Sue and Maria, the Count and his guest, the six young girls, and finally Nino and Elaine. He had asked Benito first because he needed help – he had to get Sue separated from Maria. While he kept the heiress with him, Hannah and Benito would take care of Maria. When the Count and his friend arrived he would have Benito introduce them to Maria. Then a taxicab driver friend would deliver the six girls, and he would have Benito take them up to the Count and Marceau. They were their worry after that – he had just promised to deliver them. Finally when Nino and Elaine arrived he would have Nino attend to the door. While he was introducing Elaine to everyone, Nino would slip away with Sue. From there on he was on his own. The elevator stopped with a slight bump. He stepped out just as Marceau entered the foyer from the direction of the ballroom.
"Ah! Carlo, everything is in order?" he asked.
"Great. As usual, you have exceeded yourself."
"Thank you," Marceau smiled. "And now, my boy, we should take up our stations. It will not be long before our guests begin to arrive. As arranged I will greet the guests who are destined for the ballroom and you will take care of the ones for upstairs. Ah, by the way," he said, grinning, "I have talked to Trembles about the little surprise you requested and the matter is arranged. Oh, yes, one more thing." He reached in his pocket and produced a plain white envelope. "Here, I think you will find this adequate," he said, smiling.