Vulture is a Patient Bird

Then suddenly, as a girl swept in, wearing a magnificent leopard skin coat, Shalik paused in his eating. After six months of searching, this was his moment of truth. He was certain this time this was the girl he was looking for.

Above average height, with tawny hair, hanging in silken waves to her shoulder blades, this girl — possibly twenty-six or so years of age — was the most sensationally, sensually beautiful feminine creation he had ever seen. Her jade green eyes, her full lips that gave promise of sexual excitement, her long tapering legs, her slim lovely hands made a picture of a male dream of desirability.

Shalik lost interest in his lunch as he watched her move with the arrogant walk of a trained model to the end of the room. She turned and walked back past him. He scarcely glanced at the leopard skin coat. When she had gone, to be replaced by another girl, wearing a seal skin coat, Shalik beckoned to Larson who came over.

"I'll take the leopard skin coat," Shalik said. "It is for Mrs. Van Ryan." He paused, then looked up and asked, "Who is the girl who modelled the coat?"

Larson smiled.

"Almost as magnificent as my coat, don't you think? She is Gaye Desmond . . . An American freelance model who comes here from time to time. I use her for my leopard skins . . . no other girl has such flair to show off leopard."

Shalik took out his wallet, extracted his card and handed it to Larson.

"Would you be so kind as to give her my card?" he asked. "I believe I can employ her should she need employment. You might mention to her who I am." Shalik regarded Larson. "You know, Mr. Larson, I am always serious. This is strictly business. You will be doing the girl a favour."

Larson, who knew Shalik, had no hesitation.

Later, while Shalik was sitting in his suite, reading a complicated legal document, the telephone bell rang.

He lifted the receiver.

"This is Gaye Desmond." He liked her rich contralto voice. "You sent me your card."

"Thank you for ringing, Miss Desmond. I have a proposition I would like to discuss with you. Could we have dinner together at the Belle Terresse, Tivoli, at 21.00 hrs?"

She said yes, and hung up.

She arrived punctually which pleased Shalik, and together they went to a table on the terrace that overlooked the lighted pool and the flowers that make Tivoli famous.

"It is a pity we didn't meet in Paris, Miss Desmond," Shalik said as he began to examine the menu. "The food here is indifferent. In Paris I could have offered you a meal worthy of your beauty."

She was wearing a simple blue dress with a mink stole. Diamonds glittered at her ears as she tossed her tawny coloured hair back from her shoulders.

"I believe in eating what a country offers," she said. "Why yearn for better food in Paris when you are in Copenhagen?"

Shalik liked that. He nodded.

"So what will you have?"

She had no hesitation, and this also pleased Shalik. Women who stare vacantly at a menu and can't make up their minds bored him.

She chose Danish shrimps and the breast of duck in wine sauce.

Having taken a little longer to examine the menu, Shalik decided her choice was not only safe, but sound. He ordered the same.

"Miss Desmond," Shalik said when the waiter had gone. "I am looking for a woman to help me in my work. I am a rather special agent who looks after extremely wealthy, spoilt people, clever business men and even princes. I boast that nothing is impossible. Nothing is impossible if you have money and brains." He paused, regarding her. "However, I believe my work would be made easier if I had a woman like yourself working for me permanently. I must warn you it would be exacting work: sometimes dangerous, but always within the law of the country in which I operate." This statement was untrue. Recently, Shalik had pulled off a number of illegal currency deals in London that could have landed him in jail had they been discovered, but Shalik's philosophy was that so long as he wasn't found out, any deal was within the law. "The pay will be good. You will have your own apartment at the Royal Towers Hotel in London, paid by me. You will have many opportunities to travel." He regarded her with his black, beady eyes. "And I assure you, Miss Desmond, this will be a strictly business association."

The tiny, pink, delicious shrimps now arrived with slices of toast, and there was a pause.

While Gaye buttered her toast, she asked, "What makes you imagine I am suitable for such a post, Mr. Shalik?"

Shalik nibbled at his shrimps. He regretfully avoided the toast. He was four kilos overweight and was determined to make a sacrifice.

"Instinct, I suppose. I think you are just the woman I am looking for."

"You say the pay will be good . . . just what does that mean?" He ate another three shrimps before saying, "Suppose you tell me about yourself. I can then make a valuation."

She sipped the chilled Hock and regarded him with her green eyes: thoughtful, shrewd, calculating eyes that pleased him.