So What Happens To Me?

Two

L’Espadon Restaurant, a straight steal from the Paris Ritz’s decor, was built out on a pier. Four plaster, painted swordfish plus some fishnets decorated the walls. The tables, lit by electric candles were set wide enough for people to talk secrets and not be overheard.

Pam was wearing one of those long things, down to her heels, caught at the waist with a silver belt with a snake’s head. She looked pretty gorgeous. The Maître d’hôtel came sliding over to her, giving her his teeth with that wide, friendly smile that Maître d’s reserve only for their favourites. She said something to him I didn’t catch and with a wave of his hand he conducted us to a table at the far end of the restaurant with lush, plush seats for two and a view of the whole restaurant.

‘A pleasure Miss Osborn,’ he said as he drew out her chair. ‘A champagne cocktail?’ He didn’t even look at me.

She sat down and smiled at him.

‘That would be lovely, Henri.’

‘May I arrange what you eat?’ He was leaning over her and I could smell his after-shave.

‘Let’s have the menu,’ I said, ‘and a Scotch on the rocks for me.’

Slowly his head came around and he regarded me. His eyes moved over my slightly worn lightweight suit and a pained look came into his eyes. His expression told me as nothing else could that I was Mr. Nobody.

‘Let’s leave it to Henri,’ Pam said firmly. ‘He knows.’

I was tempted to start something but the opulence of this place and the hostile expression in this fat man’s eyes intimidated me. I gave up.

‘Sure... let’s leave it to Henri.’

There was a pause, then Henri drifted away to receive a party of six.

‘You screw him too?’ I asked.

She giggled.

‘Just once. It’s made a lasting impression. This is the only restaurant in this City where I eat free... and that includes you.’

I relaxed. From the look of the place I was sure I wouldn’t have had enough money to settle the check. I regarded her not without admiration.

‘You get around, baby.’

‘You can say that again.’ Leaning forward, resting her cool hand on mine, she went on, ‘Henri is terrified of me. He has a jealous wife and he imagines I’m going to blackmail him.’

‘Nice for you.’

The drinks arrived. There were little hot hors d’oeuvres to keep them company. Two waiters hovered over us. The restaurant was filling up.

‘Some place.’ I looked around. ‘This must cost plenty without Henri picking up the tab.’

‘Oh it does.’

The wine waiter arrived with a bottle of Sancerre in an ice bucket. He bowed to Pam who gave him a sexy smile. I wondered if she were screwing him too.

Then a sole in shrimp sauce with slices of thick lobster meat arrived.

‘You’ve certainly caught the knack of living,’ I said as I forked fish into my mouth.

‘Men!’ Pam shook her head: her large green eyes wide with wonderment. ‘What they will do for a girl like me. The trick, of course, is to give a little and take a lot. Men are either grateful or they get scared, but it still pays off.’

‘What am I supposed to be: grateful or scared?’

She chased a piece of lobster with her fork as she said, ‘Just be your exciting self.’

‘I’ll remember that.’

She shot me a quick glance.

‘It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?’

‘Sure is.’ We ate in silence for a moment or so, then I said, ‘Bernie won’t be back for a couple of days?’

‘Look, Jack, let’s forget Bernie. Let’s enjoy ourselves. Right?’

But I was uneasy. Before leaving the airport, I had had a word with Tim. Pam had said she would pick me up at 20.00 so I had had time for a shave, a shower and a drink. Tim had returned to big cabin at 19.25. He had looked in.

‘Got what you want?’ he asked. He looked dead tired, sweaty and dirty.

I felt a twinge of conscience.

‘I had a visitor. She didn’t leave me any time.’

‘You mean Pam?’

‘That’s who I mean.’

He grinned.

‘That girl! I knew she would make for you, but not this fast.’

‘I’m going out with her tonight.’

Tim eyed the drink in my hand.

‘I could use one of those.’

‘Come on in: she’s certain to be late.’

I mixed him a long Scotch and soda with plenty of ice.

‘What is she?’ I asked as I handed him the glass. ‘The local hooker?’

‘She’s Olson’s girlfriend.’

That shook me.

‘You know Bernie...?’

‘Oh, sure. He doesn’t care about her sleeping around. They have a thing for each other. The only thing they don’t do is go to bed together.’

‘For Pete’s sake! If I’d known I wouldn’t have touched her! I’m not going out with her tonight if she’s Bernie’s girl.’

Tim drank greedily, paused to wipe his mouth with the back of his band.

‘If you don’t, some other guy will. Just don’t think it’s anything but a lay Jack. She’s Bernie’s girl. She has to have it. Olson can’t give it to her, so he lets her play around. This is no secret: the staff here and I guess half Paradise City knows about it, but just don’t take her seriously.’ He finished his drink, set down his glass and moved to the door. ‘Me for a shower and T.V.’ He regarded me, then smiled. ‘Life’s damn odd, isn’t it.’

But I now had Bernie on my conscience.

‘Look, Pam,’ I said, then paused while the waiter took our plates away. ‘Tim tells me you’re Bernie’s girl. He’s my best friend. This bothers me.’

‘Oh, for God’s sake! I told you: I need it! Bernie doesn’t mind. Will you stop talking about it. I tell you: Bernie knows how I am. He doesn’t mind.’

The waiter brought a Tournedo Rossini with fronds d’artichauts and princess potatoes. He served while I thought.

‘Looks marvellous, doesn’t it?’ Pam said. ‘Mmmm! I adore eating here!’

‘He must mind,’ I said. ‘You mean he’s in love with you and you with him?’

‘Oh, shut up!’ Her voice was low and suddenly vicious. ‘Take what you get and be thankful!’

I gave up. I told myself from now on, I wouldn’t touch her. This was a hell of a situation! Bernie... the man I admired most and I had screwed his girl!

I lost my appetite. As good as the steak was, I now found it hard to eat. I looked around the restaurant while I played with the food on my plate. There was a sudden commotion with Henri flying down the aisle to the entrance. I saw a tall, massively built man, around sixty years of age, come out of the shadows and into the defused light. I have never seen such a man. By the way he walked he was obviously a queer. His fat face with its snout of a nose made me think of a disagreeable dolphin. He wore an outrageous orange wig that rested a little sideways on what was obviously a completely bald head. He had on a buttercup yellow linen suit and a frilled, purple shirt. As a show-off he was in a class of his own.

‘Look at that freak,’ I said, glad to change the conversation. ‘Who can he be?’

Pam glanced down the aisle.

‘That’s Claude Kendrick. He owns the most fashionable, the most expensive and the most profitable art gallery here.’

I watched the fat man waddle to a table, three tables from where we were sitting. Behind him came a thin, willowy man who could be any age from twenty-five to forty. His long thick hair was the colour of sable and his lean face, narrow eyes and almost lipless mouth made him look like a suspicious, vicious rat.

‘That’s Louis de Mamey who runs the gallery,’ Pam told me. She cut into her steak and ate.

The fuss Henri was making of these two told me that Henri considered them V.I.P. people. Interested, I watched them settle at their table. A Vodka martini appeared as if by magic and was placed before the fat man. His companion refused a drink. There was a brief discussion with Henri about what they would eat, then Henri, darting away, snapped his fingers at a waiter to follow him.

Claude Kendrick looked around, like a king surveying his court. He waggled his fingers at people he appeared to know, then he looked our way. His little eyes dwelt on my face for a brief moment, then they shifted to Pam. His eyebrows crawled upwards and his mouth pursed into a smile. Then he did the damnedest thing. He bowed to her and using the orange wig as you might use a hat, he lifted it high of his egg bald head, bowed again and replaced it then he shifted a little in his chair and began to talk to his companion.

Pam giggled.

‘He’s marvellous, isn’t he?’ she said. ‘He does that to all his women friends.’

‘You a friend of his?’

‘I used to model some of his special jewelry. I’ve known him for some years.’ She finished her steak. ‘Excuse me... I have an idea,’ and getting up, she went over to Kendrick’s table. Her back screened him from me and she talked to him for about three minutes, then returned to our table.

‘What was all that about?’ I asked.

‘He has the most marvellous motor cruiser. I thought it would be fun if we had a trip. He’s delighted. You know this city is a bit dull for people who always live here. Everyone likes to meet someone new. You’ll come, won’t you?’

As I hesitated, she went on, ‘He’s really fun and very important.’ The waiter came and cleared our plates. ‘You’ll like him.’

The motor cruiser had an appeal.

‘Well, okay: what have I to lose?’

I looked across at Kendrick. He smiled and nodded to me as the waiter served him smoked salmon. I nodded back to him.

We finished the meal with coffee. Kendrick and de Mamey only had the salmon and also coffee. By the time we were ready to go, they were also ready to go.

Pam pushed back her chair and led me to their table.

‘Claude... this is Jack Crane. He’s working on the runway Jack... this is Mr. Kendrick.’

‘Call me Claude, cheri.’ A hand that felt like a lump of warm dough engulfed mine. ‘So glad. Welcome to this lovely city. I do hope you will be marvellously happy here.’ He heaved himself to his feet. ‘Let’s go out into the moonlight. Louis, my pet, do take care of darling Pam. I want to get to know Jack.’ He encircled my arm and led me down the aisle. Twice he paused to raise his awful wig and bow to women who smiled at him. I was sweating with embarrassment by the time Henri bowed us into the hot night air.

Here we all paused.

Kendrick said. ‘Do take Pam for a little ride in the boat Louis. You know how she loves it. Jack, will you put up with me for a few minutes? There is something I want to talk about.’

Before I could protest, Pam and Louis were walking away.

‘What’s there to talk about?’ I hated this fat freak and hated the idea of being stranded with him.

‘It’s about Bernie; he is one of my bestest friends.’ Kendrick mopped his face with a silk handkerchief. ‘Let us get in my car. It’s air-conditioned. I find this heat a little oppressive, don’t you?’

I hesitated, but without Pam to drive me back to the airport, I was marooned so I followed him down the pier to where a gaudy yellow and black Cadillac stood waiting. A Jap chauffeur slid out and had the doors open as we approached.

‘Just drive around, Yuko,’ Kendrick said and lowered his bulk into the car. I went around the other side and got in. There was a glass partition between the chauffeur and the rear seats. It was wonderfully cool when the car doors were shut. The car slid away and Kendrick offered me a cigar which I refused.

We drove along the sea front for some minutes, then the chauffeur turned off the main boulevard and took us out into the country.

Kendrick who had got his cigar smoking evenly, said, ‘I understand that you are a very close friend of Bernie.’

‘That is correct.’

‘I am worried about Bernie.’ Kendrick heaved a sigh. ‘The poor darling... that dreadful wound.’

I didn’t say anything but waited.

‘He has terrible people to work for. That man Essex! What a creature! And his wife!’

Still I didn’t say anything.

‘Bernie feels so insecure.’

‘Don’t we all!’ I said, watching the moon as it floated like a yellow disc in the cloudless sky.

‘You feel the same?’ He turned to look directly at me. ‘You also feel insecure?’

‘Who doesn’t?’

‘You’re right, of course, but have you ambitions? Do you want to be rich? I’m sure you do and Bernie is the same. We often talk about money. He once said to me... I remember his exact words: “Claude, I would do anything to fix this insecurity. If I could only lay my hands on some real money I wouldn’t care how I got it.’Ю’

‘Bernie said that?’

‘Those were his exact words.’

It was my turn to look directly at him.

‘Look, Kendrick, suppose you skip this phoney buildup? To me, it stinks. I can see you want to feel your way as you don’t know much about me, but your approach is as subtle as a bulldozer. What have you on your mind?’

He took of his orange wig and looked inside as if he expected to find something hiding in there, then he slapped it back on his head.

‘Bernie warned me,’ he said and smiled. ‘He said I would have to be careful how I handled you. He told me he once had got you out of trouble. You held up a Vietnamese money changer and got away with three thousand dollars. Bernie gave you an alibi. Is that correct?’

‘Vietnamese money changers were easy meat. I needed the money and he had plenty. Bernie talks too much.’

‘Bernie said the money changer was killed by a bomb so everything was nicely tidied up.’

As the Caddy drifted along with the lights of Paradise City making a necklace of diamonds in the distance, my mind went back to Saigon.

My Vietnamese girl wanted money to get to Hong Kong.

She was half out of her mind with terror. She had come from the North and she was sure the Viets were after her. Nothing I could tell her made an impact. She insisted she had to have money to bribe her way to safety. I was a bit crazy about her but her stupid terror spoilt our nights. I had no money to give her. Although I knew I was losing her, I finally decided I would have to get her to Hong Kong. One evening I walked into this money changer’s office, with a service revolver in my hand and forced him to give me the money. I had been drinking hard and didn’t give a damn. I gave the money to her and that was the last I saw of her. Then the M.P.s had a line-up and the money changer fingered me. I thought I was in the ditch, but Olson arrived. He said he and I were working on his kite at the time of the hold-up. I’m sure the M.P.s weren’t convinced, but Bernie had a lot of authority and I got away with it.

Thinking about this incident, it seemed a long way in the past. It was a lucky thing for me that the money changer’s office, with him in it, caught one of the first rocket bombs the Viets threw at Saigon. He was going to take his complaint to the Commanding General, but the rocket silenced him.

I had told Bernie the facts and he had grinned at me.

‘Well, don’t do it again Jack. I might not be around to bail you out,’ and that was that.

At least, it was for a time, but I was always short of money. I got tied up with another Vietnamese girl; a dancer at one of the gaudy, noisy clubs American servicemen frequented. She held out for money; that’s what most Vietnamese girls thought about. So one night, when I was really turned on, I walked into another money changer’s shop. I wasn’t taking any chances this time. There was a thunderstorm going on, plus a hail of Viet rockets and the noise drowned my shot. I thought no more of killing an old Vietnamese than I would have shooting a wild duck. I collected a thousand dollars out of his open safe. It was enough to get me a good time with the girl and have something in hand. I did this three times. Each time I knocked of the money changer and then my conscience caught up on me. I began to dream about these old men. I kept seeing their eyes, full of terror, as I shot them. These eyes followed me around even when I was servicing Olson’s kite. So I dropped it. Sitting in this luxe Cadillac, the eyes came back.

Kendrick was saying. ‘What have I on my mind? Bernie must tell you that. It’s his operation but there is one thing I would like to ask you. Bernie said you would do anything for big money. The operative word, of course, is “anything.” May I ask if that is your thinking?’

‘It depends on what big money means,’ I said.

He nodded.

‘That is the correct answer.’ He released cigar smoke that was immediately taken out of the car by a small but efficient extractor fan. ‘Yes... how big? Would a quarter of a million interest you’?’

I felt a prickle run up my spine, but I kept my cool.

‘It would interest anyone.’

‘I’m not talking about anyone.’ There was a sudden impatient snap in his voice. ‘I’m asking you.’

‘It depends.’

‘It is a simple question, cheri. Would you do anything for a quarter of a million dollars?’

‘I’ll have to talk to Bernie.’

‘Quite right.’ Kendrick picked up a tiny microphone. ‘We’ll return, Yuko.’

The Cadillac stopped, turned and headed back to the City.

‘Quite an operation,’ I said. ‘First, Bernie sells me on a phoney job. Then Pam seduces me. Now you appear on the scene, talking about a quarter of a million dollars. It’s not what I call a well-planned operation. It’s too hurried. Suppose I go to the cops right now and tell them what is happening. Do you think they would be interested?’

Kendrick closed his eyes. He looked like an aged dolphin, at rest.

‘They might, cheri, but I think they would be more interested in you.’ He shifted his wig, still keeping his eyes closed. ‘But don’t let us talk about the police. It is always a depressing subject. There’s money to be had and your cut would be a quarter of a million. You must talk to Bernie and you can always say no. If you say no, you can then take a plane back to your little town and spend the rest of your days trying to make some kind of living. That, of course, is your privilege, but on the other hand you can come in with us and become rich.’

I lit a cigarette.

‘I’ll talk to Bernie.’

We sat in silence until the Caddy pulled up outside L’Espandon where Pam and de Mamey were waiting.

As I got out of the car, Kendrick said, ‘I hope we can work together, cheri. I have confidence in you.’

I paused to stare at him.

‘That’s more than I have in you.’ I joined Pam who was already moving to where she had parked the Mini.

‘You in this too?’ I asked as we folded ourselves into the tiny car.

‘Did Claude talk to you?’

‘You know he did. You threw him at me didn’t you? I’m asking you: are you in this too?’

She started the motor and began driving the little car fast back towards the airport.

‘You’d better talk to Bernie.’

‘That still doesn’t answer my question, and I want it answered.’

She shrugged.

‘Yes, I’m in it. Bernie will explain it to you.’

‘If he handles the rest of the operation the way he’s handled it so far, I wouldn’t touch it.’

She shot me a quick hard glance.

‘What do you mean?’

‘It’s so phoney. This phoney excuse to get me here, then throwing you at me, then you throwing that fat horror at me. Was this all Bernie’s idea?’

‘Well, you’re interested, aren’t you?’

‘The money interests me, but apart from the money, and it’ll take a lot of convincing before I’ll believe that kind of money, the operation, so far, stinks.’

‘You must talk to Bernie.’

‘You can say that again.’

We drove the rest of the way in silence and when she pulled up outside my cabin, she switched on her sexy smile.

‘Let’s spend the rest of the night together Jack.’ She began to get out of her car, but I stopped her.

‘No.’ I stared at her. ‘You’re Bernie’s girl... remember?’

She looked as if she were going to hit me. I just continued to stare at her until she looked away, then I slid out of the car and walked over to my cabin.

I was up and sipping coffee on the porch when Tim O’Brien came out of his cabin. The time was 06.45 and he looked at me, surprised.

‘You’re early.’

‘I thought I’d come down to the site,’ I said and finished my coffee. ‘If there’s some job you can give me that I can do. I’ll be glad.’

‘Know anything about blasting?’

‘Not a thing.’

He grinned.

‘Know anything about bulldozers?’

‘Sure.’

‘Fine... then you look after the bulldozers and I’ll look after the blasting.’ We got in the jeep. ‘So you’ve decided you want to work?’

‘When I get paid I give value. But get this straight, Tim you’re the boss. Tell me what you want done end I’ll try to do it.’

So I spent the day in the heat, the dust and the noise. Four times I was called on to repair a bulldozer and I did it. Engines were simple to me. I got along fine with the negro crew who worked well but hadn’t any idea how to cope with a stalled engine. I didn’t see anything of O’Brien until lunchtime. From the bangs, he was doing plenty of blasting. We had lunch together under a tree: hamburgers and coffee. He asked me how I liked the job and I said it was fine. He gave me a curious stare, but didn’t take it further.

Before going to sleep that night, I thought over what had happened. It looked to me that Olson was planning some kind of steal and he wanted me in on it, but wasn’t sure of me. This idea, and I told myself I could be quite wrong, startled me. I would never have thought that Olson could be bent. I decided that I had better work or someone might begin to wonder what I was doing here.

It was sound thinking because around 16.00 the following day while I was clearing a gas feed and was cursing, I saw the three negroes, who were standing around watching me, suddenly stiffen as if they had been goosed. Their big black eyes rolled, showing the whites and I looked over my shoulder.

There was a woman standing a few yards from me, surveying me. What a woman! I knew at once she couldn’t be anyone else but Mrs. Lane Essex. Starting from the top of her head and reading downwards, she had Venetian red hair that hung to her shoulders in long, natural waves: a broad forehead, big violet-coloured eyes, a thin nose, a firm mouth. Quite an inadequate description. She was the most gorgeous looking woman I had ever seen and she made Pam Osborn look like a cheap hooker. Her body was something a saint would have thoughts about: long, long legged, full breasted. She was wearing a white linen shirt tucked into white jodhpurs and knee high, glittering black boots. Some yards behind her, a negro in white held the bridles of two horses.

She flicked one of her boots with a riding whip and her violet eyes continued to survey me the way a cattle dealer will survey a prize bull he might or might not be going to buy.

I began to wipe the dirt and grease of my hands with a jump of oily waste, aware of the tensions of the three negroes who very carefully, very slowly, as if backing away from a puff adder, moved out of the scene. They kept on moving until they were lost in the dust.

‘Who are you?’ There was an arrogant snap in her voice that made me remember that Pam had described this woman as the blueprint for the biggest bitch in the world.

I decided to play this one humble.

‘Jack Crane, ma’am,’ I said. ‘Is there something I can do for you?’

This fazed her a little. I could see that by her frown and the way she shifted her elegant feet.

‘I don’t remember seeing you before.’

‘That’s right, ma’am.’ I kept my expression wooden. ‘I’ve just arrived. I’m working for Mr. O’Brien.’

‘Oh.’ She paused but continued to examine me. ‘Where’s O’Brien?’

Just then there was a hell of a bang and the two horses shied, nearly over-throwing the negro who began struggling with them. I could see he was in trouble and I slid past her and caught the reins of the biggest horse and by sheer brute strength brought him to a standstill. The negro had all he could do to handle the other horse.

‘No place for horses, ma’am,’ I said. ‘We’re blasting.’

She came to me, snatched the reins out of my hand and swung herself onto the saddle. The horse reared up, and she gave him a flick of her whip and brought him down to stand trembling but mastered.

The negro swung himself onto his horse.

‘Take him away, Sam,’ she said, ‘before another bang.’

The negro rode of fast, leaving her looking down at me.

‘You know something about horses?’ she asked.

‘No, ma’am. I don’t dig anything without brakes.’

She smiled.

‘You handled Borgia well enough. Thank you.’

Then the mother of all bangs went off it sounded as if a five hundred pound aerial bomb had exploded at our feet.

She was under the impression she had the horse under control so she was relaxed. The bang shook me and shook her. What it did to the horse was nobody’s business. It reared and snaked and she hadn’t a chance to stay on. She was thrown heavily as the horse took off.

There was nothing I could do in that split second she hung in the air, then I started forward, but was much too late. She landed on her shoulders and her head hit the tarmac and there she remained, still gorgeous to look at, but out to the world.

As I knelt beside her, a ring of gaping negroes formed. I didn’t know if she had broken her back and I was scared stupid to touch her

‘Get O’Brien!’ I bawled ‘Get me a jeep!’

The snap in my voice brought action. Four or five of them ran wildly down the tarmac towards the blasting site. Two others rushed into the dust.

Gently, I touched her and she opened her eyes.

‘Are you hurt?’

Her eyes closed.

‘Mrs. Essex! Can I move you?’

Again her eyes opened. She shook her head and the glassy look went out of those wonderful violet eyes.

‘I’m all right.’ She moved her arms, then her legs. ‘God! My head!’

‘Take it easy.’ I looked around. A jeep skidded to a standstill. A big buck was at the wheel, his eyes rolling. ‘I’ll take you to hospital.’ I gathered her up in my arms and she moaned a little. I carried her to the jeep and got in beside the negro, holding her across my knees. ‘Get to the hospital,’ I told him. ‘Not fast... be careful.’

The negro stared at the woman, let in the clutch and began a slow drive along the tarmac. It took ten minutes to reach the airport’s hospital. Someone must have phoned Two interns, a couple of nurses and a grey-haired man in a white coat surrounded the jeep as it stopped.

There was a stretcher and everything was very efficient. They had her of my lap and onto the stretcher and inside the hospital in seconds.

I sat there wondering if by moving her I had done damage and the thought made me sweat.

A jeep came roaring up and O’Brien tumbled out. I told him what had happened.

‘Hell!’ He wiped his sweaty face. ‘What did she want to come down there for? She’s always sticking her goddamn nose into anything that doesn’t concern her! This could lose me my job when Essex hears about it!’

I shoved by him and entered the air-conditioned coolness of the hospital. There was a nurse at the reception desk.

‘How is she?’ I asked

‘Dr. Winters is examining her now.’ She regarded me as if I were a bum begging a dime.

I hesitated, then seeing one of the interns who had handled her come out through a doorway, I went to him. ‘How is she? Did I do wrong moving her?’

‘You did dead right,’ he said and smiled. ‘Nothing broken, but concussion. She’s asking about her horse.’

‘Okay. Tell her not to worry about it. I’ll take care of the horse.’

As I started towards the exit, I heard the intern say to the nurse, ‘Get Mr. Essex and snap it up!’

I went out into the hot sunshine, got in the jeep and started off in the direction where the horse had bolted. O’Brien had gone. It took me two long sweaty hours to come up with the horse. It was at the far end of the airport in a thicket and it was only luck that I spotted it. It had got over its scare and I had no trouble tying it to the jeep and I drove slowly back with the horse trotting behind.

Mrs. Essex’s groom appeared from nowhere as I pulled up outside the hospital. He grinned at me and took charge of the horse.

I went into the hospital and to the reception desk.

The nurse regarded me, lifting her eyebrows.

‘Yes?’

‘Will you arrange to tell Mrs. Essex I’ve found her horse and it is safe and undamaged,’ I said. ‘It’s news that might do her good.’

She inclined her head.

‘And you are...?’

‘Jack Crane. Mrs. Essex knows me.’

Sudden doubt came into her eyes. Suddenly it entered her stupid, snobby mind that in spite of my sweat, filthy hands and shabby clothes, I just might be someone important in the Essex kingdom.

‘I’ll tell Dr. Winters at once, Mr. Crane. Thank you for telling us.’

I gave her a long hard stare, then nodding, I went back to the jeep and drove to the site.

As I got out of the jeep, I heard another bang from the blasting site. At least, O’Brien wasn’t stopping work. He didn’t give a goddamn about Mrs. Lane Essex, but I did.

I remembered the feel of her body as I had held her. I remembered those violet eyes and the Venetian red hair against my face as I lifted her.

I walked across to the stalled bulldozer and began work on it again. As I worked I thought of her. I was still thinking of her when the whistle blew and we knocked off for the day.

Back in my cabin, I took a much-needed shower. I was getting into a pair of slacks when there came a knock on my door. Thinking it was Tim, I shouted to come in and reached for a shirt.

The door opened and Pam Osborn slid in. She quickly shut the door and I saw her face was pale and her eyes angry.

‘What do you want?’ I didn’t want her here. ‘Run away, baby.’ I tucked in my shirt. ‘I made a mistake about you.’

I could see from the expression on her face she hadn’t heard what I had said.

‘Must you act like a moron?’ she demanded ‘Now you’re under a spotlight and that’s just what Bernie didn’t want.’

I moved over to the table and sat on it.

‘What are you yakking about?’

‘It’s all over the airport. You taking that bitch to hospital and then finding her goddamn horse.’

‘What’s so wrong about it?’

‘Everyone is asking who this Jack Crane is. Don’t you see — every one of the creeps here would have given their right arms to have done what you did?’

‘What the hell did you expect me to do? Leave her lying there?’

‘It’s the horse!’ She clenched her facts, then unclenched them. ‘That bitch cares more about that horse than she does about herself, her husband or even her money! Couldn’t you have thought of that instead of spending hours looking for the blasted brute when anyone could have found it?’

‘How was I to know?’

‘And another thing... what made you start working with O’Brien? Didn’t Bernie tell you to supervise him and to keep out of sight? Didn’t he tell you not to mix with any of the gang? You have to go out there and fool around with the machines! When Bernie hears about this, he’ll blow his stack!’

I began to get angry.

‘Oh, shove off!’ I said. ‘I’m not taking talk like that from you! I’ll talk to Bernie. Now get the hell out of here!’

‘I came to warn you, you jerk! Before long the establishment will investigate you. The grapevine here is really something. Have a story ready. This sonofabitch Wes Jackson will be descending on you. He’s Essex’s manager. Watch him! He’s so sharp he could cut you by just looking at you. He’ll want to know everything there is to know about you. What you are doing here. Who you are. Why Bernie hasn’t put you on the pay roll. Have a story ready or we’ll be sunk. Do you understand?’

‘No.’ I stared at her. ‘I don’t understand and I don’t like any of it. If you...’

The sound of a car pulling up outside my cabin made both of us turn fast to the window.

‘He’s here... Wes Jackson!’ Pam’s face was whiter than a fresh fall of snow. ‘He mustn’t find me here.’ She looked around wildly, then darted into the bathroom and closed the door.

That left me standing there on my own.