"I can't see why anyone would want to live in such a disreputable shack."
Perlmutter weighed a solid 181 kilograms. Strangely, none of his body possessed more than a hint of flab. He was remarkably solid for a huge man. He held up the gold knob of a hollow cane that doubled as a brandy flask and rapped it on the walnut table that lowered from the rear of the front seat. "That disreputable shack, as you call it, happens to house a collection of antique automobiles and aircraft worth millions of dollars. The chances of being set upon by bandits are unlikely. They don't usually roam around airfields in the dead of night, and there are enough security systems to guard a Manhattan bank."
Perlmutter paused to point his cane out the window at a tiny red light that was barely visible. "Even as we speak, we're being monitored by a video camera."
Mulholand sighed, stepped around the car and opened the door for Perlmutter. "Shall I wait?"
"No, I'm having dinner here. Enjoy yourself for a few hours. Then return and pick me up at eleven-thirty."
Mulholand helped Perlmutter from the car and escorted him to the entry door of the hangar. The door was stained and layered with dust. The camouflage was well conceived. Anyone who happened to pass the run-down appearing hangar would assume it was simply a deserted building scheduled for demolition.
Perlmutter rapped on the door with his cane. After a few seconds there was an audible click, and the door opened as if pulled by a ghostly hand.
Enjoy your dinner," said Mulholand as he slid a cylindrical package under Perlmutter's arm and held up the handle of a briefcase for him to grasp. Then he turned and walked back to the Rolls.
Perlmutter stepped into another world. Instead of dust, grime and cobwebs, he was in a brilliantly lit, brightly decorated and spotless atmosphere of gleaming paint and chrome. Nearly four dozen classic automobiles, two aircraft and a turn-of-the-century railroad car sat in restored splendor on a highly polished concrete floor. The door closed silently behind him as he walked through the incredible display of exotic machinery.
Pitt stood on a balcony that extended from an apartment and which ran across one end of the hangar a good ten meters above the concrete floor. He gestured at the cylindrical package under Perlmutter's arm.
"Beware of Greeks bearing gifts," he said, smiling.
Perlmutter looked up and gave him a scowl. "I am not Greek and this happens to be a bottle of French Dom Perignon champagne," he said, holding up the package, "vintage 1983, to celebrate your return to civilization. I would imagine it's superior to anything in your cellar."
Pitt laughed. "All right, we'll test it against my Albuquerque, New Mexico, Gruet brut nonvintage sparkling wine."
"You can't be serious. Albuquerque? Gruet?"
"They beat out the best of the California sparkling wines in competition."
"All this talk about wine is making my stomach growl. Send down your lift."
Pitt sent down an antique freight elevator with ornate wrought-iron screens around it. As soon as it jangled to a stop, Perlmutter stepped in. "Will this thing take my weigh?"
"I installed it myself to bring up the furniture. But this will be a true load-capacity test."
"That's a comforting thought," muttered Perlmutter as the elevator easily carried him up to Pitt's apartment.
At the landing they greeted each other like the old friends they were. "Good to see you, Julien."
"Always happy to dine with my tenth son." It was one of Perlmutter's running jokes. He was an old confirmed bachelor, and Pitt was the only son of Senator George Pitt of California.
"There are nine others just like me?" Pitt asked, feigning surprise.
Perlmutter patted his massive stomach. "Before this got in the way, you'd be amazed how many damsels succumbed to my suave manners and honeyed tongue." He paused to sniff the air. "Is that herring I smell?"
Pitt nodded. "You're eating basic German farmhand fare tonight. Corned beef hash with salt herring and steamed spiced sauerkraut preceded by lentil soup with pork liver sausage."
"I should have brought Munich beer instead of champagne."
Be adventuresome," said Pitt. "Why follow the rules?"
You're absolutely right," said Perlmutter. "Sounds wonderful. You'll make some woman a happy wife with your masterful cooking."
"I'm afraid a love of cooking won't make up for all my failings."
"Speaking of lovely ladies, what do you hear from Congresswoman Smith?"
"Loren is back in Colorado, campaigning to keep her seat in Congress," explained Pitt. "I haven't seen her in nearly two months."
"Enough of this idle talk," said Perlmutter impatiently. "Let's open the bottle of champagne and get to work."