The Revengers (18 page)

She stared at me, blind and dry-eyed. I reached out, took from her fingers the cigarette she’d forgotten, and extinguished it in the ashtray. She shook her head minutely, as if in answer to a question only she had heard; she drew another long, uneven breath and licked her lips.

“Okay,” she breathed. “If I can talk about it I’m getting better, aren’t I? Okay.”

“Elly. . . .”

“Just one thing,” she said. Suddenly her voice was hard and steady. “Before you get too sentimental about the poor innocent little girl all ravished and ruined by two dreadful big men, I’d better tell you that I fixed them afterward.” When I looked at her sharply, she said, “Well, did they think they could do
that
to somebody and not pay for it?”

“Tell me,” I said.

“I just told you!” Her voice was impatient. “I fixed them. They held them down for me while I did it with a knife I’d gotten in a hardware store, you know, one of those little two-bladed stockmen’s knives. I’d read up on it in a book on cattle and horses I’d found in the library there in Miami. The librarian, nosy bitch, was kind of curious about me, the crazy way my face was, reading up on a dull subject like animal husbandry. How to do it without losing a single head of livestock to hemorrhage or infection. They do it all the time to cattle and horses, you know, a very simple operation. Actually, when it came right down to doing it, it got to be kind of a ghoulish scene and I was sick in the bushes afterward, but I couldn’t ask anybody else to do it for me, could I?” She looked at me long and hard. “
Now
you can start the poor-little-ravished-girl routine.”

The strange thing was that she looked so small and defenseless in the big bed, telling me about it. I hadn’t really expected anything like that, I hadn’t been braced for it, but I managed a grin to live up to my character as the tough secret agent, Superspook himself.

“What am I supposed to be, shocked?”

She shrugged. “I’d decided I’d better not kill them after all,” she said in conversational tones. “It wasn’t really worth spending my life in jail for; although why anybody should have to go to jail or even stand trial for ... I mean, goddamn it, it should come under the heading of public service, shouldn’t it? But the crazy way things are, whatever the verdict it would have been a mess, a public mess, and I didn’t want that. I didn’t want people knowing and looking at me funny and feeling sorry for me. I told everybody later, when I got back home to Chicago, what I’d already told them in Miami, that I’d been in a car crash and got thrown against the windshield. Doing it that way and not killing them, I figured there’d be no trouble with the police; they wouldn’t want to advertise what had been done to them, either. And I was right, nobody squawked, and it’s all taken care of now. I can forget them now. My mind can forget them. But my stupid body can’t forget them.”

“Who did you get to help you?” I asked.

“Somebody big and unpleasant in Miami Beach I did a favor for once, or he thought I did. I learned something and didn’t print it. Actually, it had nothing to do with what I was working on at the time so I had no reason to use it, but later he let me know he owed me. So as soon as I’d figured out what to do and researched how to do it, as soon as I could get around without crippling along like an old lady—to hell with how I still looked; that would have taken too long, actually it took months longer with the dentist and everything—I called him and said I needed three husky men and he sent them and we found them and fixed them and he doesn’t owe me any more, if he ever did. But I guess now you think I’m pretty horrible.” She said it quite flatly, watching me.

“Horrible,” I said. “And ugly, too. Don’t forget ugly.”

After a moment she laughed shortly. “It’s funny, I never told it to anybody else except those three musclemen who were helping me, who had a right to know why, and were guaranteed to keep their mouths shut. I even made up some story for the doctor; not that he really believed it, but I picked one who’d mind his own business. I don’t know why the hell I’m babbling it all to you.”

I said, “That’s easy. I’m one of the few people you know who’s in no moral position to get self-righteous because you gelded a couple of jerks who raped you.” I studied her for a moment. “But you’d better make up your mind, Elly. What’s really bothering you, your guilt or your traumatic frigidity? Better concentrate on one or the other.”

“I don’t have any guilt,” she said defiantly. “They got exactly what was coming to them. I just . . . feel kind of dirty for having done it, that’s all; I find myself wanting to wash my hands whenever I think of it. But after what they did to me, what’s a little more dirt?”

I said, “I know, you were all soiled and spoiled already.” Anger flashed in her eyes. “Damn you, I don’t know why I picked a callous creep like you for my midnight confessions!” She stared at me with calculated malice. “And I most certainly don’t need Dr. Helmstein’s sure cure for traumatic frigidity, thanks just the same, you
macho
bastard!”

I grinned. “Now you feel better, having gotten that out, don’t you?”

“Well, it’s what you were thinking about, sitting on my bed, isn’t it?”

“Naturally,” I said. “Wouldn’t any man, sitting on a lady’s bed at two in the morning? Do you think you can sleep now?”

“I think you’re a phony,” she said. A sly look had come into
^:
ier eyes. “Always boasting about fucking all these women everywhere. Hell, you’re probably impotent, really.”

I said, “You’re not ready to play that game, Elly. And you don’t know me well enough.”

“What game?”

“Actually, you’d kind of like for us to try it to see if maybe, just maybe, it will work now; but you’re scared for us to try it because it’ll be so lousy if it doesn’t. So you think if you insult me and make me mad I’ll grab you and make up your mind for you, like shoving a parachutist out of the plane who’s scared to jump.”

There was a little silence. I saw her breasts lift sharply with her breathing, under the flowered stuff of her nightie.

“Instant diagnosis by Dr. Helmstein?” she murmured, but now there was no malice in her voice. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m pretty obvious, aren’t I? It’s . . . such a lousy way to be crippled. I keep thinking if . . . just once with somebody I could really trust. But there’s no reason I should trust you, is there?”

“Not any,” I said. “I’m the most untrustworthy guy you’re apt to meet. Did you trust Warren?”

Her breath caught. “Damn you, that’s not any of your . . .” She stopped, nodded ruefully, and went on in a different tone, wryly amused, “The poor guy didn’t know what hit him. The lady’s signals were perfectly clear, he thought; and then suddenly he had this shrill, panicky wildcat in his arms. Oh, Jesus, it’s an awful way to be! I’m just telling you so you’ll be warned.”

“Sure,” I said. “I’ve got a capsule if you want one to put you to sleep, but it’s not really a good idea on top of the booze.”

She shook her head. “It’s too damned easy to get into the habit. If I ever start that, the way I’m feeling these days, I’ll never stop. I’d better just sweat it out without. Matt?”

“Yes?”

“I’m sorry. I’m just a bitch. I can’t help being nasty about this.”

“Sure,” I said, rising to look down at her, and retrieving the gun from the bedside table. “A horrible, ugly, nasty bitch. But you’re wrong about one thing. It’s not just your ankles. Your shoulders are kind of pretty, too. Good night, Elly.”

The light went out behind me as I passed through the connecting door without looking back. Back in my own room I stood for a moment looking out the dark window, thinking it was a damned unnecessary complication to an already tricky assignment and tricky relationship. I had a sudden unwanted picture of a small girl with a swollen and discolored face and a couple of broken teeth bending over a pinned-down man, wielding a bloody knife. Nightmare stuff. But would I rather play bodyguard to a dainty tenderhearted wench who’d call me a beast because I’d hurt those poor little fellows who’d been waiting for us in here with loaded guns? I’d had that experience, thanks; and in a pinch I’d take Eleanor Brand any day, Elly with her ruthless attitude toward her work, her terrible self-loathing, her vengeful anger, and her ready high-heeled shoe. To hell with all the sweet unresisting females—and sweet unresisting males, too—everybody thought were so great these supposedly nonviolent days.

I didn’t sleep nearly as well the second half of the night as I had the first half; and when I finally did start sleeping soundly, the telephone woke me. I looked at my watch and saw that it read almost seven o’clock.

“Room 743,” said the female voice that had given me the red priority message yesterday.

“What’s there for me?”

“He’ll be there and he wants you there on time.”

“I’m always on time,” I said. “What time?”

“I was supposed to wake you exactly one hour early ... Mark.” 

“Right. Where’s Fred?”

“Unavailable at the moment. Meeting his special flight at the airport and running some errands afterward. You’ll continue to cover the subject yourself for the time being. I’m to tell you to be very careful.”

“Message received and understood.”

I hung up and looked up to see the subject in question standing in the doorway between the rooms, yawning, looking childish and innocent in the flowing nightie that left her arms bare. I’d already determined that the stuff was cotton, or a good modem imitation, and that the pattern had a lot of little red flowers among a lot of little green leaves. There was some demure lacy white stuff around the neck. She had, I noticed, rather small and pretty feet. I didn’t like noticing that; I seemed to be getting a thing about female feet lately. And why the hell did my mind keep dredging up memories of Martha Devine?

I told myself to forget about Elly’s pretty feet. All I was required to do, I reminded myself firmly, was to keep this weird little knife-wielding dame alive until she could do us no harm by dying. I didn’t have to like her.

“We’ve got an hour to dress and eat,” I said. “The big boss is coming to Nassau. Big deal.”

“I’m sorry about last night,” Eleanor said.

“
De nada
, as we say in our fluent Spanish.”

She grimaced. “I let it all hang out, didn’t I? My God, I told you stuff I didn’t think I’d ever tell anybody; and the funny thing is I hate people who moan and groan about their sad fates. So a couple of creeps beat me up and raped me in a vacant lot, so what? Forget the whole gooey performance, will you, please?”

“Did it help?”

She looked a little startled. “Well, I slept like a baby the rest of the night, so I guess it did help. Thanks.” After a moment she said, “Matt?”

“Yes?”

“Why did you say that, last night?”

“What?”

“About my shoulders. That’s kind of silly, isn’t it? Ankles, legs, okay. Tits, ass, cunt, swell. But who cares about
shoulders
, for God’s sake?”

I said, deliberately deadpan, “Maybe I’m a shoulder freak. Anyway, a girl with a face like a mud fence ought to have a little encouragement. Even if it’s only shoulders.”

The quick anger came into her eyes and she started to speak hotly; then she gave me her special, big, engaging grin instead. “You bastard. You’ve got it all worked out, haven’t you? Keep the girl off balance and she’ll follow you anywhere. I’ll be ready by the time you’ve shaved.”

She wore her neat little chambray suit again with the same or another round-necked white blouse. As we left the table after breakfast, I noticed that her ankles really were quite attractive, set off by her nice sheer hose and slim-heeled tan leather pumps. I told myself again to cut it out. She’d make an intriguing project for somebody who liked intriguing rehabilitation projects—there was really too much good stuff there for her to be allowed to go around forever thinking of herself as ugly and spoiled—but it wasn’t my line of work; and it was hard to forget what she’d done in retaliation even with the best, or worst, provocation in the world. On the other hand, I told myself, considering my own violent profession, it hardly became me to be squeamish about a little thing like that.

She glanced at me, almost shyly for her, as we waited for an elevator. “Now I wish I hadn’t told you,” she murmured. “It did help, but you’re looking at me differently. That’s why I never told anybody before. I didn’t want their lousy slushy sympathy.”

“It’s not that,” I said. “I’m just wondering where you keep that damned knife. I’ve heard of castrating-type women before, but this is ridiculous.”

After a startled moment, she laughed and took my arm to enter the cage. “Are you always so blunt, or is this your idea of therapy, Dr. Helmstein?”

I said, “Oh, I can be diplomatic as hell when I want to be.”

“But you can’t quite remember the last time you wanted to be.” She flashed her big grin at me, and stopped grinning. “Talking about wanting, are you sure I’m wanted at this high-level conference, whatever it is?”

I shrugged. “You’re wanted by me. I’m supposed to protect you, remember? My instructions specifically said to be very careful, and since we’re always supposed to be very careful anyway, the fact that it was mentioned in the orders would seem to indicate that there’s something special to be very careful about. So until Fred is available, you don’t get out of my sight; and I don’t plan to trust even Fred too far if the going gets rough. If I were supposed to park you somewhere and come alone, the orders would have been worded differently.” Riding up, we had the lift, as the British call it, to ourselves; and I regarded her approvingly and said, “I thought lady journalists were all strictly trousers types.”

She glanced at me, again rather shyly for her, and hesitated a bit before she said, “When . . . when you’re not very pretty, you’ve got a choice, Matt. Either you say to hell with it, you’re obviously a total loss anyway, so you might as well look like a complete slob in dirty jeans, what have you got to lose? Or you say to yourself, honey, if you had a face like an angel you could get away with dressing like a tramp, but since you’ve got nothing else going for you you’d better be careful to look as good as you can.” She made a wry face at me. “Anyway, you haven’t seen me in slacks, let alone jeans. I look positively deformed— well, even more positively deformed than usual.”