Like a Hole in the Head

CHAPTER TWO

We got up at 04.45, and while Lucy heated the coffee, I took a shower and had a shave. Although I had slept badly, I was now more relaxed. I had a job of work ahead of me, and when I’m working, I’m always in a good frame of mind. During the past four months when I had had so little to do except worry about our finances, I had been getting slack and irritable. That doesn’t mean I hadn’t enjoyed having a lazy time with Lucy, but enough was enough. I was ready to go to work again.

I found Lucy sitting on the patio, sipping her coffee and watching the sun come up behind the palm trees.

“When Timoteo arrives,” I said, taking the cup of coffee that was waiting for me on the table, “you won’t see me until lunch time.” I sat down by her. She looked a little wan and still worried, but this wasn’t the time to worry about her worries. I would have to shelve that problem until later. “I want you down at the bank by nine o’clock. When you get back, will you telephone our six pupils and tell them we are closed until the end of the month? I don’t think they’ll care. Colonel Forsythe might be tricky. Turn the charm on. Tell him we just have to paint the place. I am sure you can handle him.”

“All right, Jay.”

“Get enough food in to last a week.” I hesitated, then went on. “Watch your cooking. His father is paying the bills. He’ll expect to be well fed. We have five hundred dollars to cover the expenses.”

Panic showed in her eyes.

“All right, Jay.”

I smiled at her.

“Now don’t flap. We are about to earn fifty thousand dollars. Remember you are as important as I am in this deal. I’m relying on you to take everything off my back except teaching this guy to shoot.” I finished my coffee and lit a cigarette. The first cigarette of the morning is always my favourite. “Everything good that comes to me, I want to share with you.”

She pressed her hands together.

“Is it this job or the money that has made you change?” she asked in a low voice.

“Change? I haven’t changed. I don’t get it.”

“You have changed, Jay.” She looked up and forced a smile. “When you told me the first time we met that you had been an army instructor, I found it hard to believe. You weren’t like an army man… you were so kind, so understanding to me. I couldn’t believe you could handle men, give orders, be ruthless. It puzzled me.” She paused. “I see now why you will teach this man to shoot. I’m a little scared of you now. I do see you have to be rough and hard if you are to succeed, but please try not to be tough and hard with me.”

I got up and pulled her out of her chair and took her face in my hands.

“No matter what, Lucy, remember this: I love you. I am the luckiest guy alive to have found you. Go along with me for a few days, then it will change. You’ll look back on this and you’ll forgive me if I’ve hurt you and you’ll see what I’m doing now is right for both of us.”

We were kissing, holding each other and I was even forgetting what was ahead of me when the sound of an approaching car parted us.

“Here they come,” I said. “Okay, honey, I’ll see you at lunch time.”

I moved off the verandah into the sun.

Coming up the drive was a small truck. Two men were in the front seats. The driver, seeing me, waved his hand, then steered the truck towards me. I waited.

The truck pulled up and both men got out. The driver was middle height, wearing only a pair of black boxing trunks. His body was covered with thick, coarse hair. He was around thirty years of age with a fleshy, swarthy face. If you like the Dago type — I don’t — you could call him handsome. He was certainly sexy and in fine condition. Flat muscles rippled under his skin. He could be as quick as a lizard and as strong as a bull.

My eyes shifted to his companion. He was older, shorter and he wore one of those Hawaiian shirts that have dropped out of favour : yellow flowers on a red background and a pair of grubby white slacks. His swarthy face was pock-marked, his eyes small, his lips thin and his nose broad and flat. He looked like one of those types you see on TV, playing a minor moronic gangster.

The driver came towards me, revealing perfect white teeth in a wide, know-all smile.

“Mr. Benson? I’m Raimundo. I’m Mr. Savanto’s right hand, left hand and possibly left leg.” His grin widened. “This is Nick. Don’t bother about him. No one does. He’s just the jerk who sweeps up the horse droppings.”

As he didn’t offer his hand, it saved me from shaking hands with him. I didn’t like him. I didn’t like his companion.

“What are you doing her?” I asked.

“We’ve got things for you, Mr. Benson.” He suddenly looked beyond me and his eyebrows went up. I glanced over my shoulder. Lucy was moving into the bungalow, carrying our cups. She was wearing a halter and cotton jeans. As she moved, her bottom gave a little twitch.

“Is that Mrs. Benson?” Raimundo asked, his eyes moving back to me.

“That’s Mrs. Benson.” I gave him the hard eye. “What things have you brought?”

“The works: the rifle, ammunition, food, booze. I haven’t missed a trick.”

“What do you mean… food? We’re capable of buying our own food.”

His grin became sly. “You don’t have to… it’s all here with Mr. Savanto’s compliments.”

He turned to his companion who was standing indifferently by the truck.

“Hey, Nick, get the stuff unloaded.” He turned to me. “Is that the shooting range over there? We’ll unload the ammunition there if it’s okay with you.”

I hesitated, then shrugged. If Savanto wanted it this way, he was the boss and it would save me money.

“Where’s Timoteo?”

“He’s on his way. He’ll be here any minute. Have you somewhere we can pitch a tent? Me and Nick won’t bother you. We have our own food. Nick knows how to take care of me.” Again the wide grin. “Just say where we can be out of your way and that’s where we’ll be.”

“What are you going to do around here?”

“Security. We’ll wander around out of sight. If anyone comes here, we’ll ease him off. No rough stuff, Mr. Benson. All done with charm. That’s what Mr. Savanto said and what Mr. Savanto says goes.”

I pointed to some distant palm trees: over five hundred yards from the bungalow.

“Anywhere beyond those trees.”

“Okay. I’ll give Nick a hand.”

He strolled over to the truck. I returned to the bungalow. I had an

itchy feeling down my spine: the feeling I used to get in the jungle when I was sure one of the Vietcong was moving in my direction. Lucy had come out on to the balcony and was watching.

“Who are they?” she asked when I reached her.

“Two of Savanto’s men. They have brought provisions.”

She stared at me.

“Provisions?”

“That’s it. Savanto is providing the food so that saves you a shopup.” I looked at my watch. “Show them where to put the stuff, honey.”

She looked helplessly at me, hesitated, then moved down the steps towards the truck. Both Raimundo and Nick were coming towards her, staggering under the weight of two wooden cases. Raimundo gave her his sexy smile.

“Plenty of good food here, Mrs. Benson,” he said. “Where do you want it put?”

At this moment I saw the black Cadillac coming up the drive.

“Here he is, honey. I’ll leave you to handle this,” and I started across the sand to meet the car as it pulled up.

The driver who looked like a chimpanzee slid out of the car, opened the rear door, then ran around to the boot, opened it and took out a suitcase.

Timoteo Savanto got slowly out of the car and stood awkwardly in the sun as I approached him.

He was wearing a black short-sleeved cotton shirt, black cotton slacks and black rope-soled shoes. He looked like a stork that had fallen in tar. "Hi, there,” I said and offered my hand.

He ducked his head : his face was anonymous with his eves hidden behind the black goggles. He took my hand in his limp, sweaty clasp and immediately released it.

“Come and see your room,” I said. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

“No, thank you. No… I’ve had all I want.” He looked helplessly around.

“I’ll show you your room, then let’s get over to the range.”

“It doesn’t matter about the room. I’m sure it’s all right.”

“Fine… it is.” I turned to the Chimpanzee. “Take the hag to the bungalow. Mrs. Benson will show you where to leave it.”

Raimundo and Nick were coming out of the bungalow, having got rid of the two cases.

Raimundo lounged up to me.

“Nice little place you have here, Mr. Benson,” he said chattily.

“The stuff’s all delivered.” His eyes took in Timoteo and his smile became an insulting jeer. “Hi, Mr. Savanto : you all ready for the bangbang act?”

I saw Timoteo cringe and turn red.

I’ve had to handle lots of smart boys during my time in the Army. I decided to crack down on this hairy know-all right away.

“Get the ammunition and the rifle to the range!” I barked at him, using my Army voice that can carry a quarter of a mile. “What the hell are you hanging around here for?”

If I had hit him across the face he couldn’t have looked more startled, but only for a moment, then he stiffened. His face turned viciously hard and his eyes glittered with fury as he glared at me.

“You speaking to me?”

Every now and then I had run into the tough guy who didn’t react to a barking voice. Then I had to throw my rank at him, but I had no rank to throw at Raimundo. That didn’t worry me. I had Savanto’s twenty-five thousand dollar bond behind me and I was sure, strong as he was, in a knock down and drag out, I could take him.

“You heard me, glamour-boy ! Get the stuff delivered and quit flapping with your mouth!”

We looked at each other. For a moment I thought he was coming at me, but somehow he managed to control himself. He forced a vicious grin.

“Okay, Mr. Benson.”

“And wipe that goddam grin off your face,” I snarled. “I don’t like it.”

He looked quickly at Timoteo, then he looked beyond me at Nick who was gaping at me.

“You don’t have to talk this way to me,” he said.

I spotted the uncertainty in his voice. He wasn’t scared of me, but he was scared of his boss.

This was the time to dig in the blade and turn it.

“Don’t I?” My parade-ground voice bounced off the roof of the bungalow. Who the hell are you? I talk anyway I like! I’m the boss around here! if you don’t like it, get the hell out of here and tell your boss! Tell him what you told me : you’re his right hand, his left hand and possibly his left leg. He might just laugh himself sick but it’s my guess he won’t. Get this stuff delivered and then get lost !”

There was a long explosive pause. Raimundo had turned grey under his tan. He seemed unable to make up his mind whether to go for me or surrender.

“No one…” he began, his voice quivering with fury.

I had him on the run and I knew it.

“Hear me !” I bawled. “Get lost!”

He hesitated, then walked slowly to the truck. He climbed into the driver’s seat and started the engine. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Nick climb in beside him. The truck moved off and headed for the range.

I looked at Timoteo who was standing, transfixed. The black sun goggles were pointing my way. I assumed he was looking at me, but I couldn’t swear to it.

I grinned at him.

“I don’t like that guy,” I said. I purposely softened my voice. “I’m an ex-Army man. When I don’t like a guy, I bawl him out. Are you sure you wouldn’t like a cup of coffee?”

He gulped, then shook his head.

The driver of the Cadillac who had been watching this little scene, came over.

“Excuse me, sir,” he said to me. His flat Chimp face was tight and his breath whistled through his flat nostrils. “Okay for me to speak to Mr. Savanto?”

At least I had put the fear of God in him.

“Go ahead,” I said and walked over to the bungalow where Lucy was standing under the roof of the verandah. I knew she had seen and heard what had happened. I wanted to reassure her.

She looked at me as I reached her, her eyes very wide and shocked.

“I had to handle him, honey,” I said quietly. “He’s a trouble maker. Just relax. Now he’s been told, he’ll stay told.”

“Oh, Jay !”

I saw she was shaking.

“Come on, baby, snap out of it.” I gave her a quick kiss. “Don’t let my Army voice scare you.” I grinned at her, trying to be reassuring, but she was staring at me, bewildered and still shocked. “It’s a trick. You just bawl and you get things done. Come on, honey, I’ve got things to do.”

“I’m sorry, Jay.” She made an effort to pull herself together. “I’ve never heard a voice like that. I couldn’t believe it was coming from you.”

“Like I said, it’s a trick… it’s Army.” Again I grinned, but it was a little forced. I knew I was wasting valuable time. “You’ll go to the bank?”

“Yes.”

“If there’s anything else you want, buy it. Have you looked at the food they’ve delivered?”

“Not yet.”

“Well, look at it. If there’s anything missing, get it. Okay?”

“Yes.”

I heard the Cadillac start up. Turning, I saw the car heading down the drive. Timoteo Savanto still stood where I had left him in the sun. He had his hands clasped behind his back and he was looking after the departing car. Even with the sun goggles hiding his eyes, he looked like a pet dog watching his master leave him.

“I have to take care of Timoteo,” I said. “See you lunch time.”

I left her and walked across the sand. When I came up to Timoteo he stiffened and turned his goggles towards me.

“Let’s go over to the range and have a talk.”

Beyond him, I saw the truck moving away from the shooting gallery and head towards the distant palm trees.

We walked in silence to the gallery and entered the cool, dim leanto. Away from us were the targets, a hundred yards out in the hot sunshine.

By one of the wooden benches were two cases of ammunition and a rifle in a canvas case.

“This your gun?”

He nodded.

“Sit down and relax.”

He lowered himself on to the bench as if he expected it to collapse under him. His thin swarthy face was covered with sweat beads. His hands shook and jerked. He was as fit for a morning’s target practice as an old lady who finds a burglar under her bed.

I’ve had them before: the guys who hate guns, who hate the noise a gun makes, who can’t see anything exciting in using a gun well. There are two ways of handling them in the Army. First, the sympathetic approach, gentling them along as you gentle a nervous horse. Then if that doesn’t work, you scare the crap right out of them, and if that doesn’t work, you forget them, but I knew I couldn’t forget Timoteo. He wasn’t a man : he was a fifty thousand dollar bond.

“I’ve an idea you and I will get along together,” I said. I sat on the other bench and took out my packet of cigarettes. I offered it.

“I don’t smoke.”

“That’s fine. That helps. I shouldn’t smoke, but I do.” I lit a cigarette and drew smoke right down into my lungs, then breathed out slowly. “As I said, you and I will get along : we have to.” I grinned. “You have a tough job ahead of you, but I want you to know I’m here to help you. I can help you, and I’m going to help you.”

He sat there and stared towards me. I couldn’t tell his reaction. The goggles hid the expression in his eyes, and men’s eyes are important to me when I’m sounding off.

“Can I call you Tim?”

His eyebrows came together, then he nodded.

“If you want to.”

“You call me Jay… right?”

He nodded.

“Well, Tim, suppose I take a look at the gun your Dad has bought for you?”

He didn’t say anything. He shifted on the bench and looked helplessly towards the gun in its canvas case.

I stripped off the case and examined the gun. As I knew it would be, it was a beautiful job. Weston & Lees don’t produce anything but beautiful jobs. If he couldn’t shoot with this gun, he wouldn’t shoot with any gun.

“Very nice.” I broke open one of the boxes of ammunition and loaded the gun. “I want you to look at the first target on the left.”

He turned his head slowly and stared across the hundred yards of sand at the target.

“Just keep watching it.”

The gun wasn’t built for me, but in the Army I had to use a lot of guns that weren’t built for me nor for anyone else. I braced myself. To me, it was easy shooting. I fired off six rounds. The centre of the target came away and fluttered to the sand.

“You’re going to shoot like that pretty soon, Tim. Hard to believe, isn’t it? I assure you you will do it.”

The black goggles gaped at me. I could see myself in their twin reflections. I saw I was looking tense.

“Will you do me a favour?” I asked, forcing myself to relax.

There was a long pause, then he said in husky voice, “A favour? I’ve been told to do anything you say.”

“You don’t have to do anything I say, Tim, but will you take those sun glasses off?”

He stiffened and reared back, his hands going protectively to the goggles that were forming a wall between us.

“I’ll tell you why,” I went on. “You can’t shoot behind sun glasses. Your eyes are as important as your gun. Take them off, Tim. I want your eyes to get used to the light here which is pretty strong.”

Slowly, his right hand reached for the goggles like a virgin taking her pants off in mixed company. He hesitated, then slowly the goggles came off.

Now I saw him for the first time. He was younger than I thought : maybe around twenty, not more than twenty-two. His eyes altered the whole of his face. They were good eyes : direct, honest and without guile : the eyes of a thinker, but right now they were also frightened eyes. He was no more like his father than I was like Santa Claus.

I was sitting by Timoteo’s side, explaining the parts of the rifle to him when Lucy appeared in the doorway.

I knew I was wasting time going over the rifle with him, but I wanted him to relax, to get to know me and to stop shaking. This was the gentling process. I spoke quietly. I was trying to will into him that this rifle could come alive in his hands, could obey him, could be his friend. I didn’t say all this crap in so many words, but I tried to convey it. So far, my words were bouncing off him like a golf ball against a concrete wall. But years as an instructor had taught me that often just when you were despairing, you get the break-through. Lucy’s sudden appearance broke the beginning of his concentration and sent a rush of blood to my head.

“I’m sorry, Jay,” she said, seeing the way I reacted. “I didn’t mean to disturb you…”

“What is it?”

The snap in my voice made Timoteo stiffen. It also made Lucy take a step back.

“The car won’t start.”

I drew in a deep breath. I looked at my watch. I was surprised to see I had been talking to this beanpole for close on an hour. I shot him a quick look. He was staring down at his feet and I could see a vein in his forehead pounding. Lucy and my barking voice had undone the work of an hour.

I put down the rifle.

“What’s the matter then?”

She looked like a kid caught with her fingers in the jam.

“I — I don’t know. It just won’t start.”

I made an effort to hold down a burst of temper and succeeded, but only just.

“Okay, I’ll come.” I put down the rifle. Then to Timoteo, I said, “I won’t be a moment. Stay here now your eyes are getting used to this light. Don’t put those sun glasses on.”

He mumbled something, but I was already moving to the door. Lucy fell back, giving me room to pass.

“Did you put your foot hard down on the gas pedal?” I asked as she trotted alongside me to keep up with my strides.

“Yes.”

“A hell of a time for it to play up. Well, I’ll get it going.”

I was sure she had done something stupid and it infuriated me that she had come to me just when I was getting this goddam beanpole in a more relaxed state of mind.

The Volkswagen was parked under a palm thatched lean-to. I jerked open the door, slid into the driving seat, sure that under my hand, the car would start.

Lucy stood by watching.

I jiggled the gear lever to check it was in neutral, then I shoved the gas pedal to the floor and switched on. I got a noise, but no start. I did this three times. Finally, the noise convinced me that the engine wasn’t going to fire. I cursed under my breath, my hands resting on the steering wheel as I glared through the dusty windscreen. I weighed up the importance of making the car start against the importance of getting Timoteo to shoot.

I had this twenty-five thousand dollar bond. This was like having twenty-five thousand dollars in cash. This bond had to be lodged in the safe keeping of a bank. Suppose someone stole it? Suppose our bungalow caught fire and the bond got destroyed? I was now responsible for it. I could imagine Savanto’s reaction if I had to tell him I had lost it.

I got out of the car, went around to the back and opened the lid. I looked at the engine. When a car makes the noise this one is making, the first thing to do, if you know anything about cars, is to check the distributor head and he prepared to clean the points. So I looked. The distributor head was missing.

That cooled me. My temper and my irritation with Lucy went away. Again I felt that itchy Prickle run up my spine.

“No wonder you couldn’t start it… the distributor head has been taken away. Have you the bond with you?”

With wide eves, Lucy stared at me, then opened her bag and gave me the bond.

“I never expected it would be easy. honey,” I said. “No one can earn money this big without sweating for it. Now listen : there was something Savanto said to me which I haven’t told you. He said you would be best off away from here while I’m teaching Timoteo to shoot. I can call a taxi and you can go to a hotel. We have the money, and it will be only for nine days. What do you say?”

“I’m not going!”

Although she looked scared, she also looked determined.

“Fine.” I put the bond in my hip pocket, then went to her, and put my arms around her. “I don’t want you to go. Go and keep Timoteo company while I talk to Raimundo. It’s my bet he’s taken the distributor head.”

“Be careful, Jay. That man frightens me.”

“He doesn’t frighten me.”

I kissed her, then set off across the sand towards the distant palms.

It was a longish walk in the sun and I was sweating by the time I was within sight of the truck.

Raimundo and Nick were pitching a tent. They had picked a good spot. There was shade, plenty of beach and the sea. As I approached, I saw Nick, his Hawaiian shirt black with sweat, doing most of the work. Raimundo was singing. He had a good voice. It sounded good enough to come out of a transistor.

He stopped singing when he saw me, turned and said something to Nick who looked up, stared at me and then went on driving in a tent peg.

Raimundo came towards me. He moved well, and he was very sure of himself.

I stopped when I was within six feet of him. He stopped too.

“You have the distributor head of my car,” I said. There was a bite in my voice, but I wasn’t bawling. “I want it.”

“That’s right, Mr. Benson. I have it… orders.”

“I want it,” I repeated.

“Yeah.” His grin widened. “Mr. Savanto gives orders too : he said no one comes in; no one goes out. That’s his idea of security. You call Mr. Savanto if you don’t believe me.” He cocked his head on one side. “You’re doing your job. I’m doing mine. The truck doesn’t work either.”

I thought fast. Savanto could have given this order. We had no reason to leave the range now except to put the bond in the bank. If Savanto considered security so important, he wouldn’t want either Lucy or myself to leave the place, and yet this could be Raimundo’s way of getting even with me for the way I had bawled him out.

“I’ll talk to your boss,” I said. “If you’re being smart, I’ll be back and you’ll be sorry.”

“You do that.” He was very sure of himself. “You talk to your boss. He’ll tell you.”

He threw a lot of weight on the word your. It wasn’t lost on me.

I walked back to the bungalow. It was a long walk. I didn’t hurry. It was now getting too hot to hurry and I had some thinking to do. If what Raimundo had said was true, then I had a problem on my hands. I had in my hair twenty-five thousand dollars that didn’t belong to me.

I reached the bungalow and walked into the sitting-room. I went over to the telephone and lifted the receiver. There was no dialling tone. The telephone was as dead as an amputated leg.

I sat down in my favourite armchair and lit a cigarette. I sat there for some minutes thinking. No car… no telephone… fifteen miles from the highway. To say we were cut off was an understatement.

I wasn’t fazed. This kind of situation was something I thrive on. I got to my feet, went into the kitchen and inspected the food that had been delivered. It was quite a selection : at least we wouldn’t starve. I went over the dozens of cans of food: all of the best and enough to keep three adults eating well for a couple of months. There was an impressive selection of drink including six bottles of champagne, lots of canned beer, whisky, gin and tomato juice.

So being cut off from Paradise City wasn’t a problem. But what was I going to do with this bond which didn’t belong to me?

I thought about the problem, knowing I was wasting time, but this was important; more than important.

Finally, I went to our store cupboard and found a small empty biscuit box. I put the envelope containing the bond into the box. Then I found a roll of adhesive tape and taped the lid to the box.

I left the bungalow by the rear door and crossed over to a row of palm trees that gave the bungalow its only shade. I paused to look around the way I had so often looked around before setting up an ambush in Vietnam. When I was satisfied I was on my own and no one was watching me, I scooped a deep hole in the soft sand under the third palm tree in a row of five and buried the biscuit box against the tree root. I smoothed down the sand. It took me some minutes to get rid of my footprints around the tree. I was finally satisfied.

I dusted the sand off my hands and looked at my watch. The time was 09.26. Timoteo had been on the range for close on three and a half hours and he hadn’t fired a shot.

I hurried across the sand towards the shooting gallery. I felt under sudden pressure. If I was going to teach this beanpole, I just could not have any further trouble. And even before I made a start to teach him, I had to get him relaxed !

I reached the gallery. The sand deadened my footfalls. I heard Lucy’s voice. She sounded animated. I slowed, then stopped in the shadow of the lean-to and I listened.

“I was like you before I met Jay,” she was saying. “You may not believe it but I was. I’m pretty bad now, but I am better. Before I met Jay I was so mixed up, just looking in a mirror made me jump. I guess it was my father…” A long pause, then she went on, “They say most kids when they are in a mess blame their parents. What do you think?”

I rubbed the sweat off my face and edged closer. This was something I wanted to hear.

“It’s as good an excuse as any.” I scarcely recognised Timoteo’s voice. He too sounded animated. “We are all looking for excuses. Maybe our parents are to blame, but we’re to blame too. It is a comfort to us to say if our parents had only been different. There are special cases of course, but I think we just have to help ourselves.”

“You’re lucky to be able to think like that,” Lucy said. “I know my father was a lot to blame.”

“For what?”

“For why I am a mess. You see, he wanted a boy. He was set on it. When he got me, he just refused to accept me as a girl and I couldn’t have been more girl. He always made me wear trousers. He always expected me to do the things boys do. Finally, he realised it was hopeless, then he dropped me… ignored me. All the time I was struggling to get some love from him. To me love is important.” A long pause, then she asked, “Don’t you think so?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Timoteo’s voice was suddenly flat. “I’ve been brought up in a different way. Didn’t your mother give you love?”

“She died when I was born. How about your mother?”

“Women don’t count in the Brotherhood. I scarcely ever saw her.”

“Brotherhood? What’s that?”

“A way of life… something we don’t talk about.” Again there was a long pause, then he said, “You said you’re in a mess. Why do you say that? I don’t think so.”

“I’m in less of a mess than I was, but I’m still messy. I have no confidence in myself. I feel inadequate. I scare easily. I almost die if there’s a thunderstorm. I was much worse before I met Jay. You mustn’t think because he shouts and scowls he isn’t kind and understanding. He is… anyway, you’ll find out. I don’t know why I’m talking like this.” She laughed. “You looked so depressed and worried, the same way I know I look sometimes, I just couldn’t help sounding off.”

“I appreciate it, Mrs. Benson.”

“Please call me Lucy. After all you’re going to live with us. I know we’re going to be friends.” A pause, then she asked, “Is that your rifle?”

“Yes.”

“Can I try it? Jay never thinks of letting me shoot. He’s a marvellous shot. I’ve often wondered what it is like to be able to shoot so well. Will you show me how to shoot, Tim?”

“I don’t think Mr. Benson would like that.”

“He wouldn’t mind. Besides, he’s busy trying to fix the car. Please show me.”

She must have picked up the rifle because Timoteo said sharply, alarm in his voice, “Be careful. It’s loaded.”

“Show me.”

“I’m no good at it. I don’t think… I think we should wait for Mr. Benson.”

“You must be better with it than I am. I’m not going to wait. I’m going to try. What do I do?”

“You’d better not.”

“I’m going to.”

Lucy had never fired a rifle. She might kill him. He might kill her. I started forward, then stopped. She was handling him better than I could. This was a risk that might pay off.

I heard him say, “Wait! You’re holding it too loosely. You must hold it hard against your shoulder. The recoil can hurt if you don’t. Don’t you think we’d better wait…”

“Like this?”

“Harder against your shoulder. Lucy, please… you shouldn’t…”

Then the rifle went off. I heard Lucy squeal.

“It hurt!” She was all feminine now.

“You’ve hit the target!” His high-pitched voice showed his excitement. “Look !”

“I meant to.” A pause. “It’s not bad, is it for a first shot. Now, you try.”

“I’m no good at it.”

“Tim Savanto ! If you can’t do better than me you should be ashamed.” She was laughing at him and her voice offered a feminine challenge.

“I don’t like guns.”

“I’m going to try again.”

A long pause, then the rifle cracked.

“Oh !”

“You let the sight drop as you fired. I saw it. Let me try.”

“I bet you don’t do any better.” There was a friendly jeer in her voice. “I bet you a nickel. Are you on?”

“I’m on.”

Again there was a long pause, then the rifle barked.

“Oh, you stinker !” Lucy’s voice was indignant. “You said you couldn’t shoot ! You’ve stolen my nickel!”

“I’m sorry.” He was actually laughing. “It was a fluke. Forget the bet ! I wouldn’t have paid if I had lost… honest.”

I decided it was time to walk in on this scene. I backed off silently, then started to the gallery whistling softly to herald my approach.

I entered the gallery. The moment I walked in, I felt the relaxed atmosphere change. Timoteo was holding the rifle. At the sight of me, he became transfixed. Fear jumped into his eyes and he looked like a dog expecting to be kicked. Lucy was sitting on one of the benches, her face a little flushed, her eyes sparkling. When she saw me, the sparkle died and she looked hopefully at me as if asking for my approval.

“What goes on?” I asked, grinning at her and I was conscious my grin was a little fixed. “Don’t tell me you’ve been shooting.”

She played up to me, but it didn’t quite jell.

“Of course… and I’ve hit the target. You’re not the only shot around here, Mr. Big-shot. Look . .

Ignoring Timoteo, I looked at the distant target. There was a hole on the outer ring and another hole by the outer bull.

“Hey… hey ! That’s shooting,” I said. “The inner’s a good one !”

“You would say that ! You men stick together. That’s his. Mine’s the outer one.” Even to me the dialogue sounded terrible. I turned to Timoteo and grinned at him.

“You see? It’s not so tough, is it? That’s a good start. Go ahead. We have all the ammunition in the world.” I turned to Lucy. “I’ve got a gun that’ll fit you. Do you want to shoot with him?”

She hesitated, then nodded.

I went over to the gun case, unlocked it and took out a gun that Nick Lewis lent to his lady pupils. I loaded it and handed it to Lucy.

“Hang on a minute, you two. I’ll put up new targets. Get off fifty rounds. Okay?”

Timoteo looked like a rabbit about to bolt. I took no notice. Leaving them I went out into the sun and put up new targets.

“Okay, you two,” I called. “I’m going back to the bungalow. I’ve letters to write. When I come back, I want to see these targets in bits.”

I grinned towards them, waved to them, then I headed back to the bungalow.

I went straight to the refrigerator and fetched out a can of beer. It was a little early in the day for beer, but I was thirsty… so what the hell ! I carried the beer on to the verandah and sat down. I drank half of it and then lit a cigarette.

I waited.

There was no shooting.

I waited another five minutes… still no shooting. I finished the beer, threw my half-smoked cigarette away and lit another. The time was now 10.43. Timoteo had been on the range now for four hours and thirty five minutes: during that time he had fired one shot.

What were they playing at? I felt a rush of blood to my head. Lucy must know how important it was to get this slob shooting. Were they sitting there yakking about their parents, their weaknesses, their goddam phobias?

I heaved myself out of the chair, hesitated, then I forced myself to sit down again.

Give her time, I told myself.

Time? Hell! There wasn’t any time!

When I had listened to her talking, I was sold she was handling him right. After all, she had got him to hit an inner, but now… Why didn’t she get him started? Why wasn’t he shooting?

I sat there for twenty-five minutes: each second I expected to hear a shot : each second dragged by… no shot.

By now I had worked myself into a vicious mood. I damned him and I damned Lucy. What did they think they were playing at? Exasperated, I got to my feet, threw away my fourth cigarette and started across to the shooting gallery.

I now didn’t give a goddam about shaking his nerves. I was fit to kick his backside. I stormed into the dim lean-to like a destructive hurricane.

They weren’t there… no one was there. The two rifles lay on one of the benches. The distant targets I had set up were untouched. A lizard darted up into the roof, offering the only sign of life.

I walked out of the lean-to, smouldering with fury. Then I saw two sets of footprints in the sand, heading towards the sea.

I stood still, feeling the sun beating down on my head and I looked along the distant beach until I saw them.

They were walking side by side, paddling in the surf, close together : he towering above her, his head bent as if listening to what she was saying. She was carrying her sandals, swinging them as she walked, kicking at the little waves that broke around her ankles. Neither of them looked as if they had a care in the world.

Probably they hadn’t, but I had.