Like a Hole in the Head

CHAPTER THREE

As I stood in the hot sun, I decided there were two things I could do. I could leave them alone or I could go down there, grab him by the scruff of the neck, drag him back to the gallery, slam the rifle in his hands and make him shoot and keep on shooting.

I stood for a long moment watching them, then I contained my rage, turned around and walked back to the bungalow.

My decision to leave them alone was based entirely on what had happened so far. At least, Lucy had got him to hit an inner and I wasn’t sure if I could have got him to do that.

To occupy myself and to try to cool down, I sorted out the cans of food and put them away in the store cupboard. I put two bottles of champagne and a dozen cans of beer in the refrigerator.

For lunch, I decided we would have a can of tomato soup, chickens’ breasts, garden peas and fruit salad. I lined up the cans on the table, then I took a beer from the refrigerator and carried it out on to the verandah. I sat down and held on to my temper which was at flash point.

The time was close on 11.36.

From where I sat I couldn’t see the beach. The gallery blocked my view. I just sat there thinking about the bond I had buried.

As good a shot as you, Savanto had said. This is the age of miracles.

Boy ! Some miracle if we were going to continue the way we had started!

After I had smoked three more cigarettes and drunk one more beer, I saw Lucy come into sight around the shooting gallery. She headed towards me, half running, half walking, still holding her sandals in her hand.

She was alone.

I forced myself to sit still.

Why alone?

I waited. She came up a little breathlessly. I could tell by her expression she was scared.

“Hi !” I put down my glass and looked at her. I gave her the look I reserve strictly for goons. “Did you have a nice paddle?”

She flinched, but she held her ground.

“There was nothing else to do.” I could see she was desperately anxious to explain it all to me. “When you left, he couldn’t even hold the rifle. You frightened the wits out of him.”

“Is that right?” I was ready to explode. “What’s with this boneless creep? Is he weak in the head or something?”

“You frighten him, Jay.”

“You think so?” I sat forward, the blood rising to my face. “Not half as badly as I intend to frighten him if he goes on acting like a goddam prima donna! Where is he?”

“I told him to stay on the beach until I had talked to you.”

“What’s he doing… paddling? You realise he should be shooting, don’t you? You realise if he doesn’t learn to shoot fast we don’t get the money? You do realise that, don’t you?”

She looked directly at me.

“It’s because I do realise it and I do realise how much this means to you that I’m trying to help.”

“You think it’s helping to take this goof for a paddle?”

“You wound him up… I was unwinding him.”

“What do you mean… I wound him up?” My voice was a bark. “I couldn’t have been nicer to the creep! I left him alone with you just so long as he would shoot. So what happens? You take him paddling!”

“You don’t seem to realise, Jay, that you frighten people.”

“Now you’re going to tell me I frighten you too, aren’t you?”

She nodded. Her hands turned into fists. She looked very young, scared and vulnerable.

“Yes. Since this happened you’ve become someone I don’t know. Yes, you frighten me.”

I slapped my hands down hard on my knees. The sound made her start.

“I’m sorry. I don’t want to frighten you, but this is important to me. It’s important to you. We haven’t much time.” I looked around for a way to ease the tension. “Have a beer?”

“Yes, please.”

I got up and went into the bungalow. I got a beer and poured it into a glass. I took the glass out to her. She was sitting, staring across at the shooting gallery. I gave her the glass, then sat down. The tension had eased. I watched her drink. Her hand was unsteady. I waited.

“You see, Jay… he doesn’t want to shoot.”

I stared at her.

“He doesn’t want to shoot?”

“No.”

"That’s fine! That’s marvellous! I only want to hear that to make this my perfect day!” I flung my half-smoked cigarette on to the sand. “So he doesn’t want to shoot? Then what the hell is he doing here? His father said he would co-operate! His father said this goof knew the set-up. Now, you tell him he doesn’t want to shoot !”

“He’s frightened of his father.”

I ran my fingers through my hair.

“But he isn’t frightened of you… that’s something.”

“We are rather alike.”

“You’re not ! Don’t compare yourself with this goon, Lucy. I don’t like it.”

“We think alike, Jay.”

I lit another cigarette. I had to do something, otherwise I would have flipped my lid.

“I don’t think so, but never mind. Let’s get this straight. You’ve talked to him. Would you say he doesn’t give a goddam if his old man loses half a million bucks?”

“He didn’t say that.”

“And he also wouldn’t give a goddam if we lose fifty thousand bucks?” I leaned forward. Okay, I knew I looked ugly with rage, but who wouldn’t flip a lid? “Well, I do ! So does his old man! So he’s going to shoot if I have to kick him black and blue! He told his father he would cooperate and that’s what he is going to do!”

Lucy put down the glass of half-finished beer. She put her hands on her knees and stared at them as if she were seeing them for the first time.

“You can’t make him shoot, Jay, unless he wants to. You know that.”

“So I’ll make him want to!”

A long pause, then she looked at me, her clear blue eyes inquiring.

“How will you do that?”

Yeah… the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question.

“I’ll talk to him.” I wasn’t even convincing myself. “I’ll make him understand how important this is.”

“He isn’t interested in money, Jay. He told me so.”

“I can see that. It’s not his money. It’s his father’s money and my money. Yes, I can see that.”

“Even if it was his, it wouldn’t interest him.”

I forced myself to stay calm.

“Now listen, Lucy, I’ve had punks like him before and I have turned them into riflemen. You go along with them so far, then you have to turn on the heat.” I paused, hesitated, then went on, “I’m beginning to think Savanto had something when he said it would be better for you not to be here. I want you to pack a bag and go to Paradise City. I’ll fix a hotel for you. I want you to stay there for nine days and forget Timoteo. I want you to go right away.”

She looked shocked for a moment, then she stared directly at me.

“You want me to go because you will do things to that boy you would be ashamed to do if I were here. Is that it, Jay?”

That was it, but I wasn’t going to admit it.

“Don’t talk nonsense. This goof has to be handled. We don’t have women around in the Army. I don’t want my wife around now. This is important. I want you out of here!”

“I’ll get lunch.”

“Lucy ! You heard what I said! I want you out of here!”

She got to her feet.

“I’ll get lunch,” and she went into the bungalow.

I sat still, on the boil, then I got up and followed her in.

She was looking at the cans lined up on the kitchen table.

“Is this what you want for lunch, Jay?”

“If it’s okay with you.”

She began opening the cans.

“After lunch I want you to pack and go.”

“I’m not going.” She poured the soup into a saucepan. Then she paused and looked directly at me. “I’m not going, Jay.” Her eyes were bright with tears, but her mouth and chin were firm. “You said : “No matter what, Lucy, I love you. You’ll look back on this and you’ll forgive me if I’ve hurt you.” That’s what you said.” She began to shake a little and she looked quickly out of the open window. “You’re hurting me now, but I’ll look back and I’ll forgive you.”

That brought me up short. My anger died. I hesitated, then lifted my hands helplessly.

“Okay, Lucy, you win. I’m not fighting you or losing you for fifty thousand dollars. So I’ll quit. I’ll tell Timoteo to get the hell out of here. I’ll send the bond back to Savanto. We’ll settle for this broken down range and we could still make a success of it. Is that what you want?”

She was looking at the opened can of chickens’ breasts.

“This looks nice. Are you hungry?”

“Did you hear what I said?”

A tear ran down her cheek and she flicked it away impatiently.

“Yes, I heard.” She put down the can and now her lips were trembling. “You may be difficult, Jay, and you may be tough and sometimes unkind, but I do know for sure you’re not a quitter.”

I stood looking at her for a long moment. It took me a second or so to realise what she was saying, then I grabbed her, whisked her off her feet and carried her into the bedroom.

“Jay! What are you doing?” She tried to wriggle out of my grip. “Jay! There’s lunch to get ready ! Oh, Jay, you mad fool !”

I undid the tops of her jeans and skinned them off her the way you skin a rabbit. I had her standing on the back of her neck before I got them off.

She was protesting, but laughing and crying at the same time.

If I couldn’t handle Timoteo Savanto, I could handle my wife.

Hemingway once wrote that when a man and a woman come together the earth moves… not often, but sometimes.

Well, the earth moved for us.

“Jay… you could have given me a baby,” Lucy said.

I opened my eyes and stared up at the ceiling with its patterns of sunlight, then I turned over on my side to look at her.

“Would you like that?” I asked.

“Yes. Would you?”

“I guess. I’d teach the little bastard to shoot.”

“It could be a girl.”

I grinned at her.

“Then you could teach her to be nice, kind, understanding and as sexy as you are.”

We looked at each other.

“I’m sorry, honey. I got worked up. Truly, I’m sorry.”

She touched my hand.

“It’s all right, Jay… honest.”

From her smile I knew it was all right.

“You don’t really think we made a kid?” I asked.

She giggled.

“That’s how babies are made. We could have.”

She slid off the bed and struggled into her jeans.

“Look at the time!”

It was 12.43.

I got off the bed and found my slacks.

“I’ll get him. You get lunch.”

“No… leave him. He told me he doesn’t have lunch. He only eats once a day.”

I shrugged, thinking : a real goon.

“Well, okay, but remember I eat three times a day.”

“As if I could forget.”

She ran off into the kitchen.

I went out on to the verandah. Making love the way we had had relaxed me. I felt I had solved a problem with Lucy, but I still had to solve the problem with Timoteo.

After lunch we took our coffee out on the verandah.

“What will you do, Jay?”

“Go down there and talk to him. It’s okay, Lucy, I’ll handle him with kid gloves. Did you get around to calling our six pupils?”

She flushed.

“I — I forgot.”

“It doesn’t matter. The phone’s on the blink.”

She looked questioningly at me.

“What’s the matter with it?”

“The same as the car. We’re cut off for nine days. Raimundo is in charge of security.”

“This is crazy !”

“There it is. I guess…”

I saw she wasn’t listening. She had stiffened and was looking beyond me and the scared look was back in her eyes.

I looked around.

Raimundo was leaning against one of the uprights of the verandah. His eyes were screwed up against the sun. He was looking directly at me.

I finished my coffee, taking my time, then I asked him what he wanted.

“Can I talk to you?” He sounded polite and he wasn’t grinning.

“Go ahead.”

He glanced at Lucy.

“You coming over to the gallery?”

I got to my feet.

“I’ll get to work,” I said, smiling at Lucy. “See you.”

I left the shade of the verandah and started off towards the gallery. Raimundo fell into step beside me. We walked in silence until we reached the gallery.

“What’s on your mind?” I asked.

“It’s not what’s on my mind. It’s what’s on yours. Why isn’t he shooting?”

“Look, glamour-boy, you take care of security and I’ll take care of the shooting… right?”

His eyes were like points of steel now.

“It’s time you came down to earth, soldier. You don’t seem to know what you’ve walked into.”

“You’re flapping with your mouth again. Beat it !” I said. “I have a job to do and you have a job to do. I do my job my way : you do yours your way. Now, dust !”

He walked into the lean-to and sat on one of the benches. I hesitated, then joined him.

“Come on… beat it !” I snapped.

He looked up at me.

“Are you having trouble with Timoteo?”

“Up on the legs and dust.”

“Because if you are I can fix it. That’s why I’m here.”

“Is it I thought you were here to take care of the security.”

“That and Timoteo.”

Then I remembered what Savanto had said. Two of my men will be arriving tomorrow with Timoteo. They will look after security, and they will also look after Timoteo if he gets difficult.

I sat down on the opposite bench. I thought for a moment, then shrugged.

“I guess I’m having trouble with him,” I said. “He doesn’t want to shoot.”

“Okay. Why didn’t you say so? I’ll fix it.”

The confidence in his voice made me stare at him.

“I didn’t ask you to fix it. What’s the matter with him?”

Raimundo sneered.

“Just a big yellow streak… that’s all. You and Mrs. Benson have now been with him since 06.00. He has fired off only two shots. Okay, now I’ll talk to him.”

“What do you tell him?”

A sneering smile showed his white teeth.

“That’s between Timoteo and myself, soldier.”

“I’ll talk to him first. This morning he was so jumpy he couldn’t even hold the rifle. He’s had time to calm down. I’ll talk to him. If it doesn’t work, then you talk to him.”

“Okay. I’ll give you two hours.”

“You’ll give me nothing! I’ll tell you when to talk to him… understand?”

He regarded me with a sneering pity that tempted me to hit him.

“Man ! Do you sound off ! Maybe, instead of talking to him, I’d better talk to you.” He sat back and stabbed his forefinger in my direction. “You don’t know it yet, but you’re in a jam. You’ve got to deliver or else. What you have to get into your thick skull is this set-up isn’t a game. That yellow slob has got to shoot and it’s your job to make him shoot ! If you flop, then you’ll not only lose the money Mr. Savanto’s promised you, but you will be in personal trouble ! ”

I felt blood rush to my face.

“Are you threatening me?”

“No. I don’t threaten anyone… I deliver messages.” He stared at me with his bleak, black eyes. “That’s the message Mr. Savanto told me to deliver to you. Remember this : this isn’t a game. You’re being well paid. You deliver or you’ll be in trouble.” He stood up. “Don’t bust an artery over me. I’m just the messenger boy.” He balanced himself on his feet, his hands hanging loosely and I could see he was ready to take and to give a punch. “You got the message, soldier?”

“Get my phone connected.” I said. “I’ll talk to Savanto. I’m going to tell him I want you off the scene.”

He grinned.

“Wouldn’t you like that? If he isn’t shooting by 16.00, I’ll talk to him.”

He walked off. When he was some fifty yards from me, he began to sing. With his looks and his voice he was a TV natural.

I found Timoteo sitting under a palm tree, staring out to sea. His long legs were drawn up so that his chin was resting on his knees; his big hands hung slackly between his drawn-up legs.

I paused to watch him. I stood there in the hot sun for perhaps a minute. During that time, he didn’t move. He looked as if he were in a trance.

So I had to teach this zombie to shoot ! In the past, I had had some crummy material through my hands, but none so crummy as this sad sack.

I had promised Lucy I would handle him with kid gloves. My instinct was to kick him to his feet and then kick him to the gallery. I waited another minute while I mentally put on my kid gloves, then I approached him. It wasn’t until my shadow fell across his big feet that he became aware I was with him.

He reacted as if someone had goosed him with a hot iron. He sprang to his feet and looked around in panic for a way of escape.

“Hi, Tim,” I said. “Sorry if I startled you. You were miles away.”

He was wearing the sun goggles again. I had to restrain myself from jerking them off his face and smashing them.

“For the love of mike, sit down.” I grinned at him. “The way you act, I’m beginning to think you don’t like me.”

I sat in the shade. He still stood there, looking as if he were going to bolt, the vein in his temple pounding.

“Can’t you sit down?”

He gulped, hesitated, then slowly and reluctantly folded himself about five feet from me. He drew up his long legs and stared fixedly out to sea.

“I want to talk to you,” I said. “Lucy’s convinced me from the moment we met we got off on the wrong foot. You’re due an explanation. You see, Tim, I’m a one time Army instructor. In the Army, things have to get done fast. There’s no time to take personalities into consideration, and without meaning to I have got you feeling hostile towards me.”

I waited for him to say something, but he didn’t. He continued to hide behind the goggles and look towards the sea.

I rubbed the back of my neck and contained my impatience. I had promised Lucy to handle him with kid gloves, so I was going to.

“Your father wants you to become a crack shot. He wants to win an important, big money bet. You know about that. He made a mistake making the bet, but we all make mistakes sometime or other. I guess because you’re his son, you’ll want to get him out of the mess he’s in.” Again I eyed the profile: again no response. He picked on me to help you. I don’t know if he told you, but he is offering me fifty thousand dollars to make you a good shot in nine days. With your co-operation, this is possible.” Again no response. I went on, “You’ve been here a few hours and you’ve seen this place. It’s in a mess. I’ve sunk all the money I got from the Army into it. Maybe I’ve made a mistake. What I need is extra capital to give this dump a shot in the arm. Your father will give me the capital if — only if — I turn you into a good shot. With this capital, Lucy and I can make a success of the range.”

I looked at him. He continued to stare out to sea. He might have been stone deaf for all the impact I was making on him.

I sat for a long minute, resisting the urge to get up and kick the arse off him.

“You’ve already talked to Lucy,” I said, making my final appeal. “She tells me you two think alike. Getting capital to put this place on its feet is as important to her as it is to me. What I’m trying to say, Tim, is now I’ve explained the set-up to you, can I rely on your co-operation? Will you help us by letting me help you?”

I waited, watching him. He just sat there, but his big hands had turned into fists. Well, at least he was showing signs of being alive.

I waited. I had said all I had to say. If he didn’t respond, then I had made up my mind to give him the Army treatment.

Finally, just when I was about to start bawling at him, he began to unwind like a mechanical figure and he climbed to his feet. He hesitated, not looking at me, then with slow, dragging steps, he started towards the shooting gallery.

When he had disappeared into the lean-to, I got up and went after him.

I found him standing by his rifle. He had taken off the goggles and he looked as miserable and as animated as a drowned cat.

I loaded the rifle.

“Go ahead, Tim,” I said. “Take it nice and easy. We have all the afternoon. I want you to get as close to the bull as you can. Don’t get fussed if you don’t make good shooting : that’ll come. Okay?”

He took the rifle, went over to the shooting stand and began firing.

I let him loose off six shots. He didn’t even clip the target.

“Okay, Tim… hold it.” I got out the tripod that Nick Lewis used to use for his most hopeless women pupils. I fixed it up, screwed the rifle to it, lined up the sight, then stepped back. “Just keep shooting.” With the tripod he couldn’t miss. I thought maybe when he saw his grouping, he might get ambitious. I let him fire off twenty rounds during which time he cut the bull out of the target.

“That’s shooting, but it’s only because the gun is rock steady.” I took the gun off the tripod. “Now take it dead slow. I only want you to shoot when you’re sure you’re on target. If it takes an hour to fire six rounds that’s okay with me.”

With sweat running down his face, he hung on to the rifle for so long I thought he had become paralysed, then finally he fired. We had a new target now. He got an outer. Well, at least he was hitting something.

After an hour, he had managed to place six shots around the outer ring and in a group. This was better progress than I had hoped for. All the time he was shooting, he remained silent. He was so tense I imagined I could hear his muscles creaking. Although I wanted to keep him at it, I knew this wouldn’t help.

“Okay, Tim, let’s knock it off. I’ve got a thirst on me that would slay a camel. Let’s go over to the bungalow and show Lucy what you’ve been doing.”

He lowered the rifle the way Hercules must have lowered the world. I went down the sand and took off his two targets and then joined him.

“How do you feel about it, Tim? It’s not so hard, is it?”

“No.”

He put his sun goggles on again and I was shut out.

As we approached the bungalow, I saw Lucy was painting. She was on a ladder, doing the gutter. Already the bungalow looked pretty smart.

“Hi, Lucy… beer,” I called.

She looked down and waved her paint brush, smiling.

“Get it yourself, helpless. I’m busy.”

“Come on down. I want you to see what Tim’s been doing.”

“Suppose Tim comes on up and finishes this gutter. It’s killing me!”

He started forward like a greyhound released from the trap. He was at the bottom of the ladder before I got moving. I heard him say, “I’ll be glad to do it. It’s too hard for you, Lucy.”

I hung back as she came down the ladder and gave him the brush and the pot of paint. As he climbed the ladder she joined me.

We walked together into the kitchen.

“The trouble with him is he’s simple minded,” I said as I took two cans of beer from the refrigerator.

“How did he shoot?”

I waved to the two targets on the table, then zipped open one of the cans of beer. I took a long pull from the can as she studied the targets.

“This is good, isn’t it?”

“Well, it’s a start.”

She looked quickly at me.

“Thank you for being kind to him, Jay. He needs kindness.”

She went out carrying a can of beer. I hesitated, then shrugged. I was sweating. When I had finished the beer, I went into the bedroom, stripped off and took a shower. I didn’t hurry. Thirty minutes later, I came out on to the verandah.

Lucy was finishing off the gutter. Timoteo wasn’t around. “Where is he?”

Lucy looked down from the top of the ladder.

“He’s gone hack to the gallery.”

“He has? What’s this… sudden enthusiasm?”

I heard the crack of the rifle.

“I asked him to go back.”

“Thanks, Lucy. I’ll get over there.”

“No, don’t. Leave him alone. Let him shoot on his own. We have a bet on.”

I looked up at her. I could see she was anxious and bothered. “You betted him he could do better?”

“Yes.” She slapped on more paint. “He needs that sort of encouragement.”

I began to get it.

“You mean he’s fallen for you. Is that it?”

“I guess so. You don’t mind, do you, Jay?”

I grinned a little uneasily.

“So long as you haven’t fallen for him.”

She flushed and looked away.

“Of course not !”

All the time we were talking the rifle was firing… slow : five or six shots every three minutes. I could imagine him shooting as if his life depended on it. Then I saw Raimundo coming across the sand. He was carrying a long cardboard box in his hand, swinging it and slapping his thigh with it as he walked.

I waited, aware that Lucy, high up on the ladder, had also stopped painting.

He came up, taking his time, his eyes first going to Lucy, then shifting to me.

“So you’ve got him shooting.” he said.

“What do you want?”

“Something from Mr. Savanto… special delivery. Goon has to shoot with it… orders.” He offered me the box.

“What is it?”

“Take a look, soldier. You’ve got eyes.” He stared up at Lucy, then he gave me his jeering smile, turned around and walked off with that insolent lounging movement that made me long to kick him.

As I began to open the box, Lucy scrambled down the ladder and joined me.

“What is it, Jay?”

I squatted on the sand as I took off the lid. There was a slip of paper on top of some foam packing. The note was typewritten:

Timoteo will shoot with these two attachments. See to it, please. A.S.

“What is it?” Lucy repeated, peering over my shoulder.

“A telescopic sight. This is a silencer. They are both highly sophisticated… both cost the earth.”

“But why?”

“The telescopic sight will make it much easier for him to hit a bull. When Savanto first talked to me I wondered about a telescopic sight, but I didn’t imagine it would come within the rules of his bet.” I turned the sight over in my hands. “He can’t fail to shoot well with this.”

“But why a silencer?”

I shrugged. I was asking myself the same question.

“I don’t know.” I stood up. “The silencer will make it a little more tricky for him. I’ll get these two attachments fitted to the rifle right away before he gets used to the rifle as it is.”

“All this worries me, Jay.”

“Oh, come on, Lucy,” I said a little impatiently. “There’s nothing to get worried about.”

Leaving her, I walked over to the gallery. He was there, the rifle against his shoulder, his face against the shoulder of the gun, his shirt black with sweat. As I came in, he fired again. I looked beyond him at the distant target. He had another set of holes topside of the inner ring. He was still off the bull, but at least he was still grouping.

“Hi, Tim,” I said. “We’ve got the answer to your problem. Look at this.”

He started like he had received an electric shock and dropped the rifle. He spun around, gaped at me, flinched, then stepped back where he had no room to step back, cannoned off the shooting rest.

“For God’s sake!” I was as startled as he by this exhibition of nerves. “Can’t you relax? Look at this.”

He continued to gape at me, his eyes wild, his expression dazed.

“Your father sent this over. It’ll help you more than I can.”

As he still remained paralysed, I picked up the rifle and took it over to one of the benches. I sat down. It took me a couple of minutes to clip on the sight and to screw on the silencer.

I looked at him. He was staring at the rifle like you might stare at a snake that had dropped into your bath.

What a goon ! I thought. To give him time to straighten himself out, I went over to the shooting rest and sighted through the telescopic sight at the target. It was as if I could stretch out my arm and put my finger right on the hull. In my time, I had handled a lot of telescopic sights, but nothing as good as this one.

“Take a look through this, Tim,” I said, turning.

The sight of him as he stood in the dimly lit lean-to set my nerves tingling. He looked as if he had gone out of his mind. There was a wild, crazy look in his eyes: his mouth was working: the muscles in his neck were standing out like knotted ropes and he began hissing through his clenched teeth.

“Hey ! Tim !” I shouted. “What’s the matter?”

He came at me with two quick shuffling strides. I was handicapped by the rifle I was holding. His fist slammed against the side of my head with the force of a steam hammer. My knees buckled, then dimly I saw his fist coming again towards my face. There was nothing I could do about it. I felt the shock, then a white flash of light scorched my eyes, then nothing.

I became aware of the sound of the sea pounding on the beach. Then I became aware my jaw was aching. The ache reminded me of the fist flashing towards my face. I shook my head, grunted and sat up. This wasn’t the first time I had taken a punch, but I couldn’t remember taking a harder one.

I looked around. I was on my own. I fingered the swelling on my jaw, winced, then levered myself to my feet.

The rifle with its telescopic sight and its silencer lay on the sand. I looked at it, continued to rub my jaw, coaxing my mind to work.

Then I heard a sound. Raimundo appeared in the doorway. He propped himself up against one of the posts of the lean-to and regarded me. His eyes were bored; a cigarette burned between his fingers.

I picked up the rifle and laid it carefully on one of the benches. “For a guy who’s getting paid fifty thousand bucks, you certainly are some flop,” he said.

“That’s right.” I sat down, pushing the rifle along the bench to give me room. “Yeah, I guess that’s fair criticism.” I was still a little dizzy in the head. “What’s with this jerk? Is he crazy?”

Raimundo flicked ash off his cigarette.

“He’s nervous.”

“Just nervous, huh?” I tried my teeth carefully with my tongue. None of them seemed loose. “He’s quite a puncher, isn’t he?”

“You could call him that.”

“What makes him nervous?”

Raimundo flicked more ash off his cigarette.

“He has his troubles. Don’t we all ?”

“He’s more than nervous. He has a couple of screws loose and you know it.”

Raimundo shrugged.

“Where is he?”

Nick’s taking care of him.”

I rubbed my jaw. It didn’t help.

“Get my phone connected. I’m going to talk to his father.”

“I bet.” Raimundo sneered. “Right now, Mr. Savanto doesn’t want to talk to you, soldier. When he does talk to you, he’ll want to hear the goon

can shoot. He isn’t interested in your problems. He pays. You deliver.”

I got to my feet. “Then I’ll talk to Timoteo.”

Raimundo shook his head.

“You’ve had your chance. You don’t know how to handle him. He doesn’t react to the soft approach. From now on, I’m handling him and tell your wife to lay off the palsy-walsy act. You be here at 09.00 tomorrow. Goon will be here, ready to shoot.”

Why should I care? I reasoned to myself. I was being paid to teach him to shoot not to act as a mental nurse.

“Suits me.”

I unclipped the telescopic sight, ran a rag over it, unscrewed the silencer and put it and the sight into the box. I put the rifle back in its case and the box and the rifle case into the gun rack.

“Nine tomorrow, then?”

“That’s it, soldier.”

I left the gallery and started across the hot sand to the bungalow. The time was 19.34.

Lucy had finished painting. As I walked into the living- room, I heard the shower going. I went to the liquor cabinet, took out a bottle of scotch and poured a slug. I drank it neat, then went into the bedroom.

Lucy came out of the shower, a towel wrapped around her.

“Did you bring Tim with you?” she asked, darting to the closet to find a dress.

“No. Raimundo is taking care of him. You finished with the shower?”

The note in my voice made her turn quickly. She saw the bruise and the swelling on my face.

“What happened? Your face !”

I stripped off my shirt.

“It’s nothing, honey.”

“But what happened?”

I told her.

“He’s as nutty as a fruit cake.” I said as I kicked off my shoes. “Our luck… to get landed with him.”

She held the towel around her as she stared at me.

“I can’t believe it. He hit you!”

I took off my slacks.

“He carries quite a punch. Anyway, what’s it matter? In the state he was in he’d have hit his own father.”

I went into the shower. After standing under the cold water for some minutes, I felt more relaxed. I dried off and came back into the bedroom.

Lucy had put on a dress. She sat on the bed and watched me while I threw on slacks and shirt.

“Why did he hit you, Jay?”

“He was worked up. I don’t know. He looked as if he were going to throw a fit.”

“But what did you do to him?”

“I did nothing to him !” I found I was shouting at her. I throttled back. “I’m sorry, Lucy. I’m getting worked up myself. What’s for supper?”

“There’s something terribly wrong. He wouldn’t hit anyone. This worries me.”

“Well, he hit me.” I tried to grin, but it didn’t come off. “He’s neurotic. Let’s forget him. I’ve had him in my hair all day. What’s for supper?”

She got up.

“Would you like eggs and ham or do you want something more fancy?” Her voice was unsteady and her eyes cloudy.

“Eggs and ham would be fine. Come do… I’ll help.”

We went into the kitchen and I sat on the table while she got the eggs from the refrigerator.

“Is he coming to sleep here?”

“I don’t think so. I hope not.” I watched her as she set the frying pan on the stove. “Now look, Lucy, don’t get worked up. He has a screw loose. I’m sure of it. I should have let Raimondo handle him from the start. We made the mistake of being soft with him. Raimondo says he starts shooting tomorrow morning. That’s all I want to hear. Let’s forget him for tonight. I’ve had enough of him.”

She turned to face me.

“He’s desperately frightened.”

“You call it one thing. I call it another. Let’s forget him for God’s sake!”

“Yes. Jay.”

I watched her break the eggs into the hot fat.

“You’ve forgotten the ham.”

She flushed and began to dither. She turned off the gas and put on the grill.

“That’s not a hot idea, is it?”

She started shaking.

“Oh, Jay, I’m so worried. What does all this mean?”

“You’re making a mess of our dinner,” I said. “Come on, Lucy, forget him !”

I left her and went out on to the verandah. Maybe I was being unkind, but I had had enough of Timoteo Savanto and my jaw ached.

After a while, she brought out two plates. The eggs were like bullets and the ham soggy. While we ate, I told her about the bond in the biscuit box and where I had buried it.

“Are you listening, Lucy? This is important.”

“Yes.”

“It’s a lot of money. I’d look a dope if it were stolen.”

We left most of the food on our plates.

“I’m sorry, Jay. It was badly cooked.”

“I’ve eaten worse.” I lit a cigarette. “Anything on TV?”

“I don’t know… I haven’t looked.”

I went inside to get the TV Guide. There was a six-year-old Western with Burt Lancaster. My jaw was now beginning to ache in earnest. I turned the set on.

Lucy took the plates into the kitchen. I sat down and watched the antics on the screen. Men rode down the mountains in a cascade of falling rocks and dust. They killed each other with guns and knives. I held my throbbing jaw and watched.

Later, Lucy came and sat near me. She didn’t look at the screen. She sat still, looking out of the open window as the darkness slowly settled over the beach and the sea.

The film finished with a massacre as most Westerns do. As the credit titles came up, I switched off.

“Let’s go to bed.”

“Is it all right to leave everything open?”

I knew she was thinking of Raimundo.

“Why not? I’m here.”

We went into the bedroom. We took turns in the bathroom and then we lay on the bed with the view of the moon lighting the sea and the palms outlined against the dark sky.

My jaw still throbbed, but I was being brave about it.

“What’s going to happen tomorrow, Jay?” she asked out of the darkness and in a small voice.

I slid my arm around her and pulled her to me.

“Why worry about tomorrow?” I turned her so she could see over my shoulder as I held her. “Look at the moon.”