I was beginning to think the ninety-five to five chance wasn't going to pay off.
"You see the cape ahead?" Nancy said, putting her hand on my naked shoulder. "That's the place I was telling you about. It belongs to Jack Dexter. He's marvellous, but God! his wife's a drip ! Right now they are in the South of France. The place has been rented. jack hates renting his houses — he has around six of them — but she's so mean, she insists."
I was beginning to get worried. Time was running out.
"Are there any more rented houses along here?"
"Dozens of them, but they are all gruesome . . . strictly for the tourist trade. This one's nice."
Graceful cypress trees screened the approach to the house. I could see a harbour, then as we got closer, a powerful motor boat. Beyond the harbour was a sandy beach.
As we came around the screen of trees, I saw an expanse of lawn and a ranch-type house surrounded by flower beds packed with multicoloured begonias.
"That's Jack Dexter's place," Nancy said. "It's nice, isn't it? I haven't had time yet to find out who has taken it."
I wasn't listening.
Sitting on the lawn under the shade of a spider orchid tree was Timoteo Savanto.
* * *
My immediate reaction on seeing Timoteo was to shout to Nancy to steer into the harbour, but I checked the impulse. There was a remote chance that Lucy wasn't there. I felt sure she was, but I couldn't take that chance.
"That's not the boy friend?" Nancy asked. She had joined me at the cabin window and was looking at Timoteo. "He looks a drip, doesn't he?"
Timoteo had found another pair of sun goggles. At the sound of the motor boat, he looked towards us, the sun reflecting on the black glass of the goggles. Although I knew he couldn't see me at this distance and through the blue anti-glare glass of the cabin window, I moved back a little.
"No . . . that's not him," I said.
I looked searchingly at the ranch house. Then I was thankful I had checked the impulse to take the boat into the harbour. I saw Nick in his yellow-and-red shirt, standing on the verandah looking towards us. I saw two other men in white ducks and sweat shirts suddenly appear around the building. They too looked towards us.
"Hey! A house full of men!" Nancy said excitedly. "Shall we call in and say hello?"
"No. How far is the next place?"
"About a mile." Reluctantly she opened the throttle and the boat surged forward.
We looked at four other houses. I didn't want her to know I had found my objective. After the fourth house, I said, "I guess this is a waste of time. It was a long chance. She's probably at a hotel or taken an apartment. We'll go back."
"There are still dozens of places along this coast you haven't seen," Nancy said. "Don't be faint-hearted."
"We'll go back."
She shrugged and turned the boat. We returned at high speed. As we flashed by Savanto's place, I saw Timoteo was no longer in the garden. The two men in white ducks were sitting on the verandah. There was no sign of Nick.
As we neared the Willington harbour, Nancy slowed the boat. "Come and have dinner with me. I'm all alone. We can talk about your wife," she said.
"No, I've got to get on," I said. "Thanks for your help."
She cut the engine and moved close to me.
"Don't rush off, Max. Let's have fun. There's lots of time to look for your wife."
"Thanks for your help." I pushed by her and gained the deck. I dived into the sea and began a fast crawl away from the boat. After a couple of hundred yards, I eased off and looked back. She was standing on the cabin roof, her hands on her hips, her legs wide apart.
"You stinker!" she shouted. "I hope you drown!" Then she waved.
I waved back and continued on my way.
I was pretty sure the ninety-five to five chance had paid off, but I wasn't certain that Lucy was there. If I had seen her T would have borrowed Nancy's telephone and alerted the police, but that would be asking for trouble if they walked in and didn't find her.
As I swam hack, I decided I would tell Raimundo that if the ski shot failed, it would be worth the risk of taking Timoteo to the Willington estate. I would show him on the map how it could be done.
I came out of the sea and started across the sand dunes. As I approached the house I saw Carlo on the verandah. I scarcely noticed him because I saw Savanto was sitting in one of the chairs, looking towards me. The sight of him, like a black vulture, made my heart skip a beat.
He stared stonily at me as I came up the steps.
"So you've been for a swim, Mr. Benson," he said.
"That's right. I . . ." I got no further.
I was facing him, my back half turned to Carlo. I saw him move. I started to turn, but I was much too late. What felt like a steel bar which must have been the side of his hand slammed down on the back of my neck. My brain exploded in a flash of white light; there was complete darkness.
Agonising pain and the smell of scorching brought me back to consciousness. I heard myself yelling : it was a sound I didn't think possible to come from me : a sound I had once heard when one of my men had been hit in the stomach by shrapnel. I clenched my teeth and bit the scream back. I opened my eyes. Dimly, and out of focus, I saw Carlo bending over me. There was this awful pain raging in my chest. I heaved myself to my feet. A huge hand came from nowhere and slapped across my face. I felt myself falling. My back hit the top of the verandah steps and I felt myself slithering down them. I sprawled on the hot sand.
I lay there, riding the pain, my mind willing my body to get up so I could kill this brutish ape. I saw him coming down the steps and somehow I dragged myself to my feet. I swung at him. Again his hand slapped my face and again I sprawled on my back. I looked up at him, hating him. If it hadn't been for the raging pain in my chest, I would have got up again, but the pain took the guts out of me.
Then Raimundo came down the steps. He and Carlo grabbed me, dragged me upright and hustled me up the steps. They slammed me down into a chair.
Raimundo said quietly, "You had it coming, soldier. Now take it easy. I'll fix the burn."
I looked down at my chest. I had been branded with the Red Dragon on the right side of my chest. The pain still raged. I thought of Lucy with this brand on her face and how she would suffer. The thought shocked the vicious fury out of me. I sat there, staring at the brand, riding the pain. Raimundo came back. He dabbed on yellow anti-burn ointment. His fingers were gentle.
When he had finished, he moved away. I became aware that Savanto was watching.
"I warned you, Mr. Benson, not to try tricks. This isn't a game," he said. "Now, perhaps you will realise it. Now, perhaps you will realise how your wife could suffer."
"Yes," I said. I had myself under control. He was right. Up to this moment I had hoped he was bluffing, but now I knew this was no bluff.
"You talked to Mrs. Willington," Savanto said. "Did you tell her about the shooting?"
"No."
He studied me, his black eyes glittering.
"I hope you are not lying. If Diaz doesn't come out on the bay, then I will know you have lied. I will avenge myself on your wife. Do you understand?"
"Yes."
He nodded, his eyes still probing my face.
"There now seems doubt that you will hit him when he is skiing. Is that right?"
"I'll hit him, but I don't guarantee to kill him."
The pain from the burn was subsiding. I looked down at the livid red mark on my chest. I imagined Lucy having to wear that mark on her face for the rest of her days. I suddenly didn't give a damn about Diaz Savanto.
"I told you this is the age of miracles," Savanto said. "I expect a miracle from you."
I knew, after seeing Nancy in the telescopic sight, that I could kill Diaz. I would kill him and this nightmare would finish.
I looked steadily at him.
"I'll kill him," I said.
Our eyes locked.
"Would you say that again, Mr. Benson?"
"I'll kill him."
He nodded, then heaved himself out of the chair.
"Yes, I was sure I had chosen the right man," he said, half to himself. "Yes, you will kill him." He moved to the top of the verandah steps, then he took off his hat, looked inside it, then put it hack on his head. "I expected trouble from you, Mr. Benson. You are a man of character. I am sorry I had to deal so harshly with you. I can understand you didn't realise how serious this affair is. You know now. It is better for you to suffer to find out this is a serious business than for your wife to suffer. I again assure you that she will be returned to you . . . a little frightened, of course, but quite unharmed. You have said you will kill him. I am satisfied." He looked beyond me at Raimundo. "Give me a cigarette."
Raimundo shook his head.
"Your Doc says you should lay off cigarettes, Mr. Savanto."
Savanto held out his hand.
"Fortunately for me, you are not my doctor. A cigarette!"
Carlo came forward with a pack. He lit the cigarette for Savanto who continued to stare at Raimundo.
"You see? Carlo does what I ask."
In spite of the pain from the burn, I was suddenly alert. I looked at Raimundo.
"Carlo is an animal," he said quietly. "I am more responsible."
"Yes." Savanto drew in smoke and let it drift down his nostrils. He looked at me. "You have been clever, Mr. Benson. You wanted to find your wife. You have found her. She is there with Timoteo. Now I have your word that you will kill Diaz I am pleased to tell you this. You have seen the house. She has everything she needs. I told you that. I didn't expect you to believe me, but now you have seen for yourself. It is a very beautiful house, isn't it?"
I didn't say anything.
"She is quite well and safely guarded, Mr. Benson," Savanto went on. "She is very well guarded." There was a long pause while he puffed at his cigarette, then he said, "Tomorrow at 14.00, Timoteo will come here. At 14.30 I and Lopez will arrive. You are entirely responsible for the arrangements and the successful conclusion of the operation." He stared at me, his black eyes like stones. "Is that understood?"
The veil of this nightmare was smothering me.
"Yes," I said.
* * *
The shadows from the palm trees were lengthening. The sun was sinking in a blood-red glow that lit up the horizon. The light turned the sand dunes into lunar formations. It was hot : a tropical evening with no wind and complete silence.
I was lying on the bed by the window in my small, airless room. In spite of the ointment the burn was still painful. To forget the pain, my mind moved into the past. I thought of my first meeting with Nick Lewis when he had told me the school was for sale. This meeting had started the nightmare. I thought again of my first meeting with Lucy and of our first wonderful month together. I thought of the black Cadillac coming up the drive and of our hopes that here at last was a good paying client. It all seemed a long time ago. I wondered what Lucy was doing at this moment. I was thankful she didn't know what was happening to me. I had told Savanto I would kill Diaz . . . so I would kill him.
During my service in Vietnam I had killed eighty-two Vietcong: an average of twenty-seven hostile men a year. Most of them had been snipers like myself : a professional killing a professional. I could have been killed myself, but I had been lucky and that shade better at concealing myself and moving more silently through the jungle than they. I had dreamed of the first few snipers I had killed, but after a while I had become callous. But I knew I would have Diaz on my conscience in spite of knowing he was less than an animal, and in spite of knowing I was forced to kill him. This would be something I would have to live with for the rest of my days. It was essential to me that Lucy should never know. This killing had to be something I wasn't sharing with anyone . . . especially Lucy.
I watched the sun go down and darkness settle over the sea. The moon wouldn't be up for another half hour. This was the long moment of twilight and stars that Lucy and I always liked.
Then the thought that had been nagging at the back of my mind suddenly came alive.
Would Lucy and I be safe after I had killed Diaz?
Savanto had said he was a man of his word. He had said Lucy would be returned to me unharmed. He had said he would pay me two hundred thousand dollars if I would take his son's place, but he was in the position to make promises. I touched the brand on my chest. A man who could do that, I thought, could do anything. What could be more convenient to him, after I had killed Diaz than to wipe both of us out? By wiping us out he would save himself two hundred thousand dollars and get rid of two witnesses who could testify that his son hadn't killed Diaz.
Was Lucy already dead?
The thought made me start upright.
Had he had her killed already?
The door opened and the overhead light came on, blinding me. I blinked as I turned my head.
Raimundo came into the room. He shut the door. He was carrying a glass of what looked like whisky and water.
"How does it go, soldier?" he asked, moving close to the bed.
"I'm all right. Why should you care?"
"You must have some sleep. The burn hurting?"
"What do you think?"
He looked down at my chest and grimaced.
"I've brought you some sleeping pills." He set down the glass and a screw of paper on the bedside table. "You must sleep. Tomorrow's important."