The Other Side of Midnight

"She said you were rude to her."

Larry opened his mouth to protest, then thought better of it. He would have to work this out in his own way.

"I'm sorry. I'll try to be more careful, Mr. Demiris," he said evenly.

Demiris got to his feet. "Do that. I would suggest that you not offend Miss Page any further." He left the cockpit.

Any further! Larry racked his brain, trying to think of what he might have done to offend her. Perhaps she just did not like his type. Or she could have been jealous of the fact that Demiris liked and trusted him, but that didn't make sense. Nothing Larry could think of made any sense. And yet Noelle Page was trying to get him fired.

Larry thought about what it was like being out of a job, the indignity of filling out applications like a damned schoolboy, the interviews, the waiting, the endless hours of trying to kill time with cheap bars and amateur whores. He remembered Catherine's patience and tolerance and how he had hated her for it. No, he could not go through all that again. He could not stand another failure.

On a layover in Beirut a few days later Larry passed a movie theater and noticed that the picture playing there starred Noelle Page. On an impulse he went to see it, prepared to hate the picture and its star, but Noelle was so brilliant in it that he found himself completely carried away by her performance. Again he had the curious feeling of familiarity. The following Monday, Larry flew Noelle Page and some business associates of Demiris' to Zurich. Larry waited until Noelle Page was alone and then approached her. He had hesitated about talking to her, remembering her last warning to him, but he had decided that the only way he could break through her antagonism was to go out of his way to be pleasant to her. All actresses were egotistical and liked to be told they were good, and so now he came up to her and said, with careful courtesy, "Excuse me, Miss Page, I just wanted to tell you that I saw you in a movie the other night. The Third Face. I think you're one of the greatest actresses I've ever seen."

Noelle stared at him a moment and then replied, "I would like to believe that you are a better critic than you are a pilot, but I doubt very much that you have either the intelligence or the taste." And she walked away.

Larry stood rooted there, feeling as though he had been struck. The goddamned cunt! For an instant he was tempted to follow her and tell her what he thought of her, but he knew it would be playing into her hands. No. From now on he would simply do his job and keep as far away from her as possible.

During the next few weeks Noelle was his passenger on several flights. Larry did not speak to her at all, and he tried desperately hard to arrange it so that she did not see him. He kept out of the cabin and had Metaxas handle any necessary communications with the passengers. There were no further comments from Noelle Page, and Larry congratulated himself on having solved the problem.

As it turned out, he congratulated himself too soon.

One morning Demiris sent for Larry at the villa. "Miss Page is flying to Paris for me on some confidential business. I want you to stay at her side."

"Yes, Mr. Demiris."

Demiris studied him for a moment, started to add something else, then changed his mind. "That's all."

Noelle was the only passenger on the flight to Paris and Larry decided to fly the Piper. He arranged for Paul Metaxas to make Noelle comfortable and stayed in the cockpit, out of sight during the entire flight. When they landed, Larry walked back to her seat and said, "Excuse me, Miss Page. Mr. Demiris asked me to stay with you while you're in Paris."

She looked up at him with contempt and said, "Very well. Just don't let me know that you're around."

He nodded in icy silence.

They rode into the city from Orly in a private limousine. Larry sat up front with the driver and Noelle Page sat in back. She did not speak to him during the journey into the city. Their first stop was Paribas, the Banque de Paris et des Bas. Larry went into the lobby with Noelle and waited while she was ushered into the office of the president and then down to the basement where the safe-deposit boxes were kept. Noelle was gone about thirty minutes, and when she returned, she swept straight past Larry without a word. He stared after her a moment, then turned and followed her.

Their next stop was the rue du Faubourg-St.-Honore. Noelle dismissed the car. Larry followed her into a department store and stood nearby while she selected the items she wanted, then handed him the packages to carry. She shopped in half a dozen stores: Hermes for some purses and belts, Guerlain for perfume, Celine for shoes, until Larry was burdened down with packages. If she was aware of his discomfiture, Noelle gave no sign. Larry might have been some pet animal that she was leading around.

As they walked out of Celine's, it began to rain. Pedestrians were scurrying to take shelter. "Wait here for me," Noelle commanded.

Larry stood there and watched her disappear into a restaurant across the street. He waited in the driving rain for two hours, his arms full of packages, cursing her and cursing himself for putting up with her behavior. He was trapped and he did not know how to get out of it.

And he had a terrible foreboding that it was going to get worse.

The first time Catherine met Constantin Demiris was at his villa. Larry had gone there to deliver a package he had flown in from Copenhagen, and Catherine had gone to the house with him. She was standing in the huge reception hall admiring a painting, when a door opened and Demiris came out. He watched her a moment, then said "Do you like Manet, Mrs. Douglas?"

Catherine swung around and found herself face to face with the legend she had heard so much about. She had two immediate impressions: Constantin Demiris was taller

than she had imagined, and there was an overpowering energy in him that was almost frightening. Catherine was amazed that he knew her name and who she was. He seemed to go out of his way to put her at ease. He asked Catherine how she liked Greece, whether her apartment was comfortable, and to let him know if he could do anything to help make her stay pleasant. He even knew--though God alone knew how!--that she collected miniature birds. "I saw a lovely one," he told her. "I will send it to you."

Larry appeared, and he and Catherine left.

"How did you like Demiris?" Larry asked.

"He's a charmer," she said. "No wonder you enjoy working for him."

"And I'm going to keep working for him." There was a grimness in his voice that Catherine did not understand.

The following day a beautiful porcelain bird was delivered to Catherine.