Live Girls (37 page)

Benedek still had no idea why the hell Davey wanted them or the Ping-Pong balls and Drano. Sounded pretty weird to him. But then, everything that had happened in the last few days sounded weird.

He'd dozed on Davey's sofa throughout the previous night, never falling into a deep sleep. He'd awakened once to what he'd thought was Jackie's voice. It had been a siren outside.

Benedek wasn't sure when Davey had gone
—
while Benedek was nodding off, apparently. He'd found a note on the refrigerator telling him to help himself to breakfast and saying that Davey would be back by one. Benedek had eaten nothing; the burning in his stomach would not permit it.

It was 11:48 by Benedek's watch. He would have to get back to Davey's soon.

Before leaving the bathroom, Benedek glanced down at the bathtub. There was a crusty ring around the inside left behind by the bubbles he and Jackie had bathed in the night before. The brandy snifter from which Jackie had drunk was on the edge of the tub, a drop of brandy still in the bottom. He picked it up and sniffed at its stale aroma. Staring at the empty bathtub, Benedek remembered how Jackie had looked: her relaxed smile, the heaviness of her eyes, the way her nipples peeked through the clinging bubbles, the drops of moisture that mingled with the freckles on her chest.

He sat heavily on the toilet seat, wondering suddenly what he would ever do without her. He propped his elbow on the edge of the sink, put his head in his hand, and sobbed.

“Okay, Davey,” Benedek said firmly when Davey came in. “I got your hypos and your Ping-Pong balls and your Goddamned liquid Drano. Now are you gonna fill me in or am I supposed to
guess
what you've got in mind?"

“I'm sorry, Walter,” Davey said, taking off his coat and tossing it onto the sofa. “I guess I was afraid you'd think my idea was stupid and insist we do something else."

“Hey,
you're
the expert here,” Benedek replied. “Just don't keep me in the dark, okay?"

“Where's the stuff?"

“In here.” Benedek led him into the kitchen. The things he'd purchased were on the table.

Davey pulled out a chair and sat down. Taking the rectangular box containing two Ping-Pong balls in his right hand, he lifted it to his mouth and tore off the cellophane wrapping with his teeth.

“When I worked at Penn,” he began, “I had to read through all kinds of stories for men's action magazines, mercenary magazines, shit like that. Most of them were just guys shooting at each other, or articles about new kinds of guns, but once in a while, I came across some unusual and creative methods of blowing things up. This
”—
he gestured to the things before him
—“
is one of them."

Interested, Benedek sat across from him.

“According to this article I read,” Davey continued, “if you inject one of these
”—
he held up a Ping-Pong ball
—“
with some of this
”—
he tapped the ball on the bottle of liquid Drano
—“
put a little Scotch tape over the hole, and drop it into any petroleum distillate, like gas or oil, the tape will dissolve and the reaction of the Drano mixing with the gas causes an explosion."

It sounded farfetched, but Benedek decided to go along with it for the moment.

“So how does that help us?” he asked.

“In an alley beside Live Girls, I found a window that leads beneath the building. There's a furnace down there; I'm willing to bet it's an oil furnace. I'm going to go down there tonight. If I'm right and I drop these in, it'll blow the place sky high."

“And you
with
it, if it works."

“It'll take a while for the tape to come off. I'm hoping I'll have enough time to go up and get Casey, then get out."

“I can go in while you're down in the
—
"

“No, Walter. You'll wait for me outside in a cab."

“Wanna be a hero, huh?"

“It's not that. I have a much better chance of getting out of there. I'm one of them. I'm not as vulnerable as you."

“Look, Davey, I can't just
—
"

“You don't know what they're capable of doing, Walter. If you go in there ... they
want
you, remember?"

“They might have Jackie in there."

“It's not an option, Walter. Either you wait for me outside or don't come at all.” Davey's voice cracked and he turned his eyes away from Benedek. When he spoke again, it was hardly more than a whisper. “I can't let you go in there; I'm responsible for too much already. If I find Jackie, I swear I'll do my very best to get her out."

Davey suddenly seemed to age before Benedek's eyes. He seemed to be carrying the weight of the world on his back.

“Davey, you can't blame yourself for that,” Benedek said quietly. “You had nothing to do with what happened to Jackie."

“If I'd never gone into Live Girls, you never would have met me. You might've let the cops take care of your brother-in-law. You might not have gotten involved in this at all. And you might still have Jackie."

“Might,
might
. Might-haves aren't worth shit, Davey."

Davey picked up one of the hypodermic needles and tore off the plastic wrapper with his teeth. “You want to help me do this?” he asked.

“No, wait a second. If I go in there, I can look for Jackie and Casey while you're in the furnace room. It would be much safer."

“No, it wouldn't. You'd never get out alive."

“And what about you? You think they're going to sit back and let you blow the place up just because you're one of
them?"

“I've got a gun."

“And what good is that going to do?"

“A few slugs will hold them off."

Benedek nodded. Davey was determined, he realized, to do it himself, and he was probably right. If Benedek went in there, they would never let him see the light of day again.

“Okay,” Benedek said with resignation. “I'll wait in a cab outside, but I won't wait forever. If you don't come out in fifteen minutes, I'm coming in."

Davey thought about it a moment. “If you go in,” he said, “and don't come out, there won't be anyone left to blow the whistle on them."

“What,” Benedek snapped, “you think I'm gonna be some kinda
savior?
You think I'm just gonna walk into my editor's office and tell him there are vampires running around New York and he'll say, ‘My God, Walter, we've gotta put this on the front page'?” He shook his head. “As much as I'd like to rip the lid off this, I don't know
how
I'm gonna do it. So what difference does it make?"

“I want them to burn,” Davey breathed. “Anya, Shideh, the women who work those booths, I want them all to
burn
. If I have to burn with them, fine. But I'm going in there alone."

“A lot of innocent people will be killed and hurt."

“Not if I can help it. I'm going to clear the customers out of the booths."

“You're taking a lot on yourself."

“And it's about time."

“All right, Davey,” Benedek said, nodding. “All right.” He picked up one of the syringes and clicked a needle onto the end of it. “We'll do it your way."

R
AIN POUNDED ON THE ROOF OF THE CAB AND CASCADED
down its windows, making the city outside look like dirty melting ice cream. Everything outside seemed to be moving more slowly than usual: the cars, the pedestrians, even the wipers that swept the cab's windshield.

The cabdriver was a stocky woman with frizzy black hair who whistled softly through her teeth, keeping rhythm with the beat of the wipers.

Davey sat in the backseat with Benedek; both of them stared silently out the windows.

Davey felt a chilly sheen of perspiration on his face. He felt as if his fear had taken form and was squatting behind him on the back of the seat, its face grinning with malicious delight, breathing icy breaths down his neck.

It occurred to Davey that he'd never seen Jackie before. Turning to Benedek, he asked, “What does your wife look like?"

Without turning to him, Benedek said, “She has white hair, green eyes. She was wearing a blue nightgown when he took her.” He stared out the watery window for a moment, then continued quietly: “She wasn't really my wife. I mean, we lived together eleven years but never got married. I kind of wish we had.” He smiled gently. “She would have been quite a sight in a wedding gown, with her white hair..."

The cab came to a sudden halt and a large black man wearing tattered rags walked before it, pounding a big fist on the hood. His lips moved silently and he gestured toward them, like a witch doctor casting a spell.

“'At nut's probably gonna be president someday,” the cabdriver muttered, shaking her head.

When Davey saw the flashing lights of Times Square shining through the blurry glass, he reached into his coat pocket and wrapped the fingers of his right hand around his gun. It was loaded and Morris had given him some extra magazines. Reloading would not be easy with just one hand, but Davey had practiced several times that day so he knew it was possible.

The cab stopped at the curb; Davey and Benedek turned to one another. Davey thought the man looked older than when he'd first met him just two days before.

“Davey,” Benedek said, leaning toward him with determination, “are you sure you don't want me to
—
"

“Positive.” Davey checked his coat pockets to make sure he had everything: extra magazines for the gun and the two Ping-Pong balls he and Benedek had prepared in the left pocket, the gun, a penlight, and a sturdy, newly sharpened kitchen knife in the right.

“You guys gettin’ out?” the driver asked, looking at them over her shoulder.

“He's getting out,” Benedek replied. “We're waiting."

“Waiting? You never said nothin’ about waiting. How long..."

Benedek reached into his pocket and pulled out a wadded twenty and slid it under the partition.

The woman nodded, taking the bill. “So we'll wait."

As Davey opened the door to get out, Benedek put a hand on his arm and said, “I'm giving you fifteen minutes, then I'm coming in."

Davey shook his head. “Please don't, Walter."

“Like it or not, I am. So just do what you can and get your ass out of there in fifteen minutes."

Davey nodded and got out of the cab. The raindrops hit his face like cold little bullets. Up ahead, the red letters on the Live Girls sign flickered through the downpour. Live Girls looked like a blot of darkness within darkness. Davey closed the door of the cab and hurried down the sidewalk through the rain.

It was 9:12 P.M.

Casey could not calm the trembling in her arms and legs. Her stomach churned sickeningly and a burning sensation passed over her skin in waves.

Churning and burning,
she thought as she hugged herself on the cushion, rocking back and forth.
Churning and burning, burning and churning
...

She stood clumsily and walked around the cushion, trying to overcome the weakness in her legs. As she passed the candle, the flame stirred, sending flashes of soft orange light over the walls.

Casey turned to the table lamp in the corner, felt for the switch, and turned it on. Her eyes snapped shut against the sudden light, but it cut through her eyelids like razors and her head instantly began to pound. She switched the light off again and let the darkness wash over her eyes like cool, cleansing water. She leaned on the small table for a moment, spinning around when she heard the door open behind her.

“You should be feeding,” Shideh said softly as she entered the room and closed the door.

“I don't want to,” Casey replied, turning away from her.

“Yes you do.” There was a smile in her voice.

“I won't."

“You will."

Casey turned.

“I can see the trembling in you now,” Shideh went on. “Your skin is beginning to burn, am I right? And soon, each breath you take will be like inhaling fire.” Her smile widened. “Are you sure you won't feed?"

Casey remembered putting her mouth on the fleshy, disembodied penis that stuck through the hole beneath the window; she remembered using her tongue to find the pulsing vein, then briefly sliding her teeth over it, puncturing the skin and hearing the man's muffled cries of pleasure as she sucked his blood...