It was going to be quite a night. I could tell by the bright-eyed way the little doll kept smiling at me and licking her sensual lips. We were sitting together in a back booth in the Club Papagayo. I was drinking rum and she was drinking tequila, and we had already made arrangements to spend the night in my room, which was upstairs above the Papagayo.
She was Latin all the way down to her little toes. Well, maybe she was half Indio, but that just made the mixture more explosive. Her name was Conchita. I had met her an hour ago just after she had stepped off the bus.
She was a young little thing from the country who had just come into bloom. In Central America, when the family hut gets too crowded, papa sends one of the girls out into the world to seek her fortune.
Conchita had just arrived in Puerto Reyes, and she had no place to stay. That is, she hadn't until I'd offered to put her up for a few days, until she could get on her feet.
After a week in the big city she would have learned her way around, and a lot of the newness would have worn off for me. I like soft little kittens who purr when you stroke them, and I don't like a lot of cheap paint and perfume.
Give her a week in Puerto Reyes and she'd be so painted up her own mother wouldn't know her. That's how it went with all the young girls who came to the wicked city to seek their fortunes.
It was a thing you learned to live with. I made it a habit to check over just about every bus that came to town. I'd picked up lots of sweet young things that way. A couple of them had even stayed with me for a couple of months before they moved on.
It was something to do in Puerto Reyes, where there wasn't a hell of a lot to do besides guzzle rum and fight the flies.
Puerto Reyes is the biggest west coast settlement in one of those Central American countries where everyone either has a racket or starves to death. Since I'd landed here a year ago, jumping ship off a Panamanian freighter when the food became unbearable, I'd had my own racket.
I had started out small, but a guy with brains could do real well in the black market. Being a seaport, Puerto Reyes was kind of the center of the black market for the whole country. My two partners and I had really worked our operation into a gold mine. I had over ten thousand dollars, American, in the money belt I wore under my shirt.
Maybe Chris and Duke didn't have so much ready cash, but they'd spent heavier than I did. I wanted to get back to the states one of these days with enough cash to set me up for life.
There was only one fly in the ointment.
When you've got a gold mine, there's always someone looking for a way to take it away from you. They had everything on their side, and we had only the protection that money can buy. We'd bought plenty of it. But the men who ran the town weren't satisfied with just the mordida. They were playing a cat and mouse game, waiting until they decided we were ripe for the picking.
And we had to try to outguess them by enough time to make a clean getaway.
We had a couple of things going for us. We had all our worldly goods in negotiable form, so we could pack up and leave on a moment's notice. And we also had a man listening for us in the policia.
His name was Pancho. He sat at the big desk in front and swatted flies, but he had big ears, and he knew everything that was going on. Pancho had a standing offer from us ten thousand pesos if he tipped us off before the raid.
Like I said. It's a poor country, and everybody has a racket. Except the few honest people, and they're all starving.
There was one more ace we had up our sleeves. We had a couple of boats tied up in the harbor. We had figured long ago that was the best way to leave if things suddenly got hot for us. If the big cruiser couldn't outrun the local navy, then we had a runabout that could.
But right then I didn't want to think about the possibility of getting chased out of town. I liked the place. It had begun to grow on me. Mainly because there were so many spicy little senoritas like the one sitting beside me.
She must have been thinking about physical things, because her hand kept squeezing my leg. "You ready to go to the room, Rosita?" I asked. "Conchita "
"That's right. The last name was Rosita. You look enough like her to be her sister."
"I have a sister named Rosita," she murmured. "But she's only ten years old. She has not left home yet"
"You want to go to the room?"
Conchita picked up the empty tequila glass and licked it out with her tongue, the way a cat goes after the last drop of milk. Then she grinned and fluttered her eyes.
"Can I have more tequila?" she asked. "It makes my belly hot. And I want to be burning up for you, honey."
"Have all you want."
I made a sign to the waiter, who was asleep, leaning against a big stone pillar. He didn't see me wave, but the bartender did. He fixed up another set of drinks and put them on e tray. Then he bounced a lump of ice off the waiter's head.
It took a while, but we got the drinks.
She tossed hers off without a blink. Then she shoved the quarter-sliced lemon between her lips I felt her belly through the thin cloth of her cotton dress. It was hot all right.
She liked my hand there, and made a sound of disappointment when I took it away. She caught my wrist and put the hand back. Then she made me work the fingers against the softness of her lower belly.
A growl of pleasure came from deep inside her.
She reached down and began to do things with her hand, and all at once I was on fire.
"Let's go," I said. "If you want more tequila, I'll bring along a bottle."
"I don't need tequila now, honey," she whimpered. "I need a man like you big and strong. Oh, so nice and big. This is going to be fun."
I grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the booth. On the way out I made a sign to the bartender to put the drinks on my cuenta. I didn't want to stop and take the time to pay.
We went out the door and up the side stairs that led to the little open patio where there were a lot of tropical plants in round wooden tubs. My room was one of eight that faced on the patio. I unlocked the door.
Conchita ran in ahead of me and started pulling her dress over her head. She was giggling and gasping and watching me undress with hungry eyes.
The eyes of a pagan little beast in heat.
In less than a minute we were both naked, except that for some reason she was holding her dress in front of her. I grabbed the dress from her hand and tossed it at a chair. It missed the chair and landed in a heap on the floor, but by then neither of us gave a damn.
I caught her in a bear hug, pulling her compact little body against me. She was hot all over, like she was burning up with a fever.
I clasped her quivering buttocks while her mouth clung to mine. In the country she had learned to kiss just like they do it everywhere else. Yet she put even more hunger into it, more squirm and wiggle.
She began massaging my naked body with her taut little thighs, slapping me with her belly.
I reached from behind, way down between her legs and clamped my fingers. Her response was purely animal. She gave a little whimper of delight and clawed her nails into my back. And she shoved her tongue deeper into my mouth.
We stood there beside the bed, both of us shivering with excitement. Then I laid her down upon the mattress and leaned above her.
She was gasping, lifting up her shoulders, holding out her quivering young breasts, silently pleading with me to kiss them. And that's just what I did. I opened my lips around one of the firm little globes and drew it inward. It was solid and fleshy, yet it quivered like jelly.
I stabbed the nipple with my tongue.
It swelled up into a hard little core surrounded by all that fragrant softness.
I clung to the nipple, biting it gently, chewing with the edge of my teeth, rolling it around with the point of my tongue. Conchita groaned. She tightened her arms around my neck and began directing my head.
My face was buried in soft, female flesh.
And she was leaping beneath me, whining and tossing her hips. Her fingers tore at my hair.
"Oh, honeeeee " she sobbed. "Oh, bay-beeee. I'm burning up for you. I told you tequila would make me hot. Oh, honey, you've got to put out the fire."
I caught hold of both breasts and mashed them together until the two nipples were very close together. Then I kissed them both, running my tongue down into the little valley of flesh between the twin, quivering peaks.
Conchita began to roll her head on the mattress, tossing her long dark hair. There was a choking sob in her throat, a gasping for breath.
Then she uttered a long, drawn-out wail. It was like the cry of a jungle cat.
I raised my head and stared for a moment at the breath-taking sight of her restless, thrashing body. Her skin was as smooth as satin, and it glistened with sweat, the same shiny texture as polished bronze.
Her eyes stared at me, wide and demented. Her soft mouth was slack with the violence of her craving.
"Do it honey " she begged.
She parted her legs and raised her arms to me, whimpering with expectation. As I moved into position, she arched her body, seeking me hungrily.
The instant I fell upon her, she let out a wild cry of pure delight. Her whole body became alive at once, squirming erotically, clinging to me with desperation.
Looping her legs around me, she crawled higher and higher. I felt her ankles lock, and she held onto me with a vice-like grip, all the time tossing at me with her feverish thighs. She raked my back raw with her sharp nails.
Her hips swayed beneath me, her belly quivered.
I watched her face while she grew dizzy with rapture. She made strange sounds in her throat, her voice rising to a higher pitch, until she was screaming her pleasure.
Then I felt the first tremor jolt through her, a violent quaking deep within her body.
I cupped her soft little bottom and lifted her up from the bed, then slammed her down with a pile driving lunge. She turned into a little wildcat. She set her claws in my shoulders and shoved back at me, shrieking now, arching her body, tossing her hips, clamping with her thighs.
All at once I reached the limit of my endurance. And still she lashed at me, driving me over the edge. Spasms shot through me, like bolts of lightning tearing my guts apart. I held on for all I was worth and rode through the storm. We erupted together with volcanic force, thrashing at each other furiously, gasping our pleasure.
At last I was spent, so weak I could not hold myself up. I rolled over and lay on my back, while she clung to me, her body still squirming restlessly, her wet mouth open on my neck, biting hungrily.
That's how it was when I dropped off to sleep....
CHAPTER TWO
The pounding was somewhere nearby, like they were trying to tear down the walls. A whole goddam wrecking crew. Then the pounding was in my head. I drifted slowly out of sleep and tried to open my eyes.
They felt heavy, like weights were pressing against them. I fought against the weights and finally got them open. I lay for a moment, staring at the cracked ceiling. Whoever was outside kept pounding on my door.
"Okay "I yelled. "Give me a minute "
Conchita lay beside me, sleeping like a contented kitten. I gave her a shove and she rolled away lazily, continuing to snore with a low purring sound.
I snatched up my shorts from the floor and put them on as I staggered to the door. The guy was still beating a tattoo. It sounded like he was using both fists. I jerked open the door and blinked the sleep from my eyes.
It was Pancho.
The big fat Pancho who sat at the desk in the police station. Our paid informer. He glanced behind him nervously and pushed into my room.
"What do you want?" I growled.
"I came to warn you, senor."
I shook my head then, and I was wide awake. I grabbed him by the arm.
"They are going to raid us?"
"Si, senor. Tonight."
"When?"
"Eleven o'clock."
I glanced at the watch on my wrist. It was almost nine. That gave us only two hours to clear out. There was a hell of a lot to be done in two hours. I strapped on the money belt.
"They won't come before eleven?"
"No, senor. Eleven o'clock sharp." He pulled nervously at the end of his mustache. "That's when they told the soldiers to report to the jefe."
"Troops," I muttered. "They're not taking any chances, are they? Did anyone see you?"
"I don't think so, senor. I was very careful." He glanced toward Conchita sleeping naked on the bed. "You were hard to wake. Maybe I made too much noise?"
"Don't sweat it."
"I was gathering my clothes, dressing in a hurry. I sat on the chair and tied my shoes, then I pulled the suitcase from under the bed. It was all packed and ready to go. I'd been living out of the suitcase for the past several months.
I double-checked the money belt, then took a snub-nosed .38 revolver from the dresser drawer. I shoved it into my pocket. I picked up the suitcase, and I was ready to go.
"Come on "I said, giving Pancho a shove.
"I want my money, senor."
"You'll get it," I growled. "It's in the safe at the office. Let's get going."
I glanced back from the door and saw Conchita still sound asleep.' I hated to be leaving anything so nice, just when the fun was getting started. But right then my neck was in a noose. I was in danger of losing everything I'd worked for, and maybe land in prison besides.
Pancho stopped halfway down the stairs.
"We shouldn't be seen together, senor," he whispered. "It would be very bad for me."
I ground my teeth.
"All right. My car's parked in the alley. You go first and crawl in back, lie on the floor. I'll give you thirty seconds, then I'm coming right behind you."
"Si, senor "
And he was running down the stairs. He paused at the entrance, glanced in both directions, and disappeared into the night. I waited until I figured he had made it to the corner, then I went after him.
He was lying on the rear floor like I had told him, so fat and winded that he wheezed loudly all the way to the office. It was a small shop with a large storage room in back. Lucky for us, there wasn't a lot of merchandise on hand. We would just have to leave what was there and let the police help themselves. They'd probably get into a brawl over the American cigarettes.
Duke and Chris both had rooms upstairs, above the office. I was hoping they were both there. We didn't have time to go chasing all over town.
Pancho followed me up the stairs. He was sticking to me like glue because he hadn't gotten his money yet. like everyone else in Puerto Reyes, he didn't trust anybody, especially three gringos who had made a killing on the black market.
Chris Maddox was in his room. There was a light showing under the door. I knocked once and walked in. Chris's lanky frame was stretched out on the bed. He lay in his underwear, reading a magazine.
"What the hell?" he muttered.
"They're on our tail, Chris."
He saw Pancho and rolled off the bed. At once he started putting on his clothes. He didn't say another word. He knew what was up.
His suitcase was packed just like mine. He pulled it out of the closet. Before he buttoned his shirt, he strapped on his money belt. Then he opened the suitcase and took out a pearl handled automatic.
"Where's Duke?" I asked.
"Out with some broad," Chris growled. "I think he's at the cantina. We'll phone him from the office."
"Let's roll," I said. "They're hitting us at eleven o'clock."
"We'll be long gone by then."
"If we find Duke "
"Let Duke take care of himself."
"We're calling Duke," I said grimly.
"Sure. We'll call Duke. But I ain't going to risk my neck looking for him if he ain't at the cantina."
On the way down to the office, Chris tossed his suitcase into the car beside mine. We switched on the office lights and drew the blinds. Chris picked up the phone. It took a minute to get the stupid operator to ring the right number.
"Let me talk to Duke," Chris said into the mouthpiece. And then he waited. He drummed his fingers nervously on the desk top. "Duke get your tail over here fast. Yeah Tonight. We've got to dust out."
He hung up.
"How about my money, senor?" Pancho said in a whining voice. 'Ten thousand pesos."
"You'll get it," I mutttered.
I kneeled down beside the big old safe and spun the dial. Pancho was watching, probably remembering the combination. But it didn't matter any more. We sure as hell wouldn't have any use for the safe after tonight. I heard Chris shoving things around in the storeroom. He came out with a couple of cases of cigarettes.
"I ain't leaving these behind."
"You'd better worry about the small stuff. That's too bulky," I said, jerking open the safe.
"There's a box of nylons "
I took out a brown sealed envelope and tossed it to Pancho. A packet of pesos that had already been counted and stuck in the safe for just this reason.
He tore it open. His eyes lit up as he saw all that money. Quickly he counted a couple of stacks, then shoved the rest in his pocket.
"Thank you, senor. Gracias."
He headed for the door.
"Hold on, Pancho," I called. "You're not leaving until we do. Sit down there in the corner." Pancho chewed his lip nervously, then he did as he was told. Just then Duke Bevins came through the door, charging like a mad bull. He was a big guy with burly shoulders. Usually he was calm and unworried. But right now there was a lot of worry in his face.
"Better gather your stuff," I told him.
Duke split the bottom of has shirt and showed us his money belt. He glanced toward the open safe.
"I'm ready," he said. "You got the jewels?"
I walked over to the safe and took out a small box. This was the real treasure. The stuff that would make us all rich when we got it back to the states where we could fence it.
There was a tiara and a couple of ruby rings. The tiara had once belonged to a Spanish nobleman. Then it had transferred hands after a revolution. It had been the property of a rich landowner until last year, when it was stolen. We had bought it for a song from some peasant who didn't know its real value. Roughly it was worth a hundred thousand, according to the newspaper accounts I'd read.
The rings would be worth five grand apiece.
Altogether, it was quite a haul. But it was also dangerous stuff to be carrying around, especially with the policia hot on our tails.
I started to open the box and check the contents.
"Hold it," Duke growled. You want big mouth over there to get his eyes full?"
Duke grabbed Pancho and shoved him into the closet. Then he came over to the desk. I opened the box and dumped it. The jewels were still there.
There were diamonds in the tiara as big as walnuts, almost. It was quite a treasure, if we could get it out of the country.
"What if we got caught with this on us?" Chris said.
"Yeah," I agreed. "We're not out of it yet. If we don't get away, they might give us a year for the black market operations. But they catch us with the national treasure they'll throw away the key and let us rot."
Duke nodded grimly.
"How do we get it out?"
"Mail it-" I said.
We were talking in low whispers so Pancho couldn't hear. I heard him wheezing inside the closet, which was probably as hot as a steam bath.
"That may not be such a bad idea," Duke said.
Chris nodded.
"Yeah. We can cruise up the coast and go ashore in Mexico. Pick it up at the post office. If s so simple it might work."
"Acapulco," Duke said.
I was already stuffing the jewels back into the box. There was a roll of tape on the desk, which we used to wrap packages. Some of our deliveries went through the mail. It was slower than molasses, but it usually reached the destination.
I taped the box, then folded it in brown wrapping paper and taped that good. It made a package about the size of a cigar box.
Duke picked up a ballpoint from the desk. "Give me a name," he said.
"Jacob " Chris said. "Green."
"That'll do."
Duke lettered it on the package while we watched. Jacob Green. General Delivery. Acapulco, Guerrero, Mexico. There were several sheets of stamps in the desk drawer. Duke pasted on six fifty-peso stamps. More than enough to pay the postage to Acapulco.
There was some loose cash in the safe. We took a couple of minutes to split it three ways, then we went out and climbed into the car. Pancho was still in the closet. That was a good place for him. He'd stay put until he didn't hear us for a while, then he'd come out and spend more time gathering the loot we'd had to leave behind.
That would keep him out of our hair until we got aboard the cruiser.
I drove slowly through the center of town, not wanting to attract attention. I kept to the darker streets as much as I could, and parked at the side of the post office.
Duke had the package. I killed the motor and climbed out with him. Chris came behind me. We all wanted to see it go into the mailbox. Duke dropped it through the bronze door of the night depository, and we all climbed back in the car.
After we had gotten rid of the jewels, I began to feel better. I was sure now that we were going to make a clean getaway. I drove faster on the way to the harbor.
Our thirty foot cruiser was tied up at the T-head pier, all gassed up and ready to go. The sixteen foot runabout was tied to the stern on a tiller. It was good to have a spare, in case we lost the big one or needed extra speed.
I grabbed my suitcase and climbed aboard. Chris kicked over the twin Chrysler motors while Duke a nod I cast off. In a minute we were cruising slowly out of the harbor toward the open sea. There was only one thing now that could get in our way.
The Coast Guard cutter that usually drifted a couple miles offshore, watching for foreign fishermen who got inside the three mile limit. She had a lot of speed for a Central American navy boat They'd bought her from U. S. surplus.
Standing oh the stern, I watched the runabout tugging behind us in the wake. Then I saw a lot of sudden activity on the T-head we'd just left Three police cars screeched to a stop beside our car.
Spotlights came on and began sweeping the water. One of the beams picked us up. Chris shoved the throttles and we shot ahead. I saw a couple of cops fall to the pavement in a prone position and aim rifles our way.
Duke and I ran into the cabin and dropped to the deck. I heard several distant cracks, then shattering glass above my head. Chris was shouting something, but I couldn't hear above the roar of the engines.
"We could be in trouble," Duke said. I nodded.
As soon as we were out of range of the rifles, Duke and I went back on deck. Chris was still on the flying bridge, steering toward the blinking anchor buoy which marked the entrance to the channel.
We were past the buoy, turning north to open ocean when the cutter's spotlight began sweeping the water about a mile to port.
I climbed up to the bridge and stood beside Chris. He was gripping the wheel tightly, peering straight ahead at the smooth ocean spread out before us in the moonlight
"Can we outrun them?" I asked.
"Should be able to. But they'll give us a chase. And they've got a gun that will range a couple of miles."
Just then there was sound like the ripping of heavy cloth, followed by a boom in the distance. A hundred yards to starboard I saw a waterspout rise up. Chris spun the wheel, and the boat heeled to the right.
Another shot rattled across the sky, and this time it fell to the stern. They were taking wild potshots, but one of them might just connect.
Duke was standing on the deck below.
"Cut loose the small boat" I yelled. "That'll give us more speed."
"Hell no! We're gonna need it"
There was another shot, and a spout rising dead ahead about fifty yards off the bow. Chris spun the wheel again. I held onto the rail and looked back. The cutter seemed to be smaller than when I first spotted it.
The next shot didn't come for nearly a minute, and it splashed in the water far astern. That was the last one they fired. We were outrunning them fast. The cutter hadn't been capable of near the speed I'd thought she was. like everything else in the country, they'd probably let the equipment go to hell. Lucky for us they had.
Duke climbed up to the bridge. The cutter was no longer in sight. She must have turned back and given us up. We talked for five minutes, deciding how we would divide the watch. Mine was third, about daybreak.
That was fine by me. I was ready to hit the sack. I climbed down the ladder and went below. Even with the ocean breeze, it was too hot to sleep in my clothes. I stripped down to everything but my shorts and money belt and dropped onto the bunk. I didn't even remember my head hitting the pillow....
CHAPTER THREE
I was having a nightmare. Instinct had brought me to the edge of waking an instinct which warned me of threat and danger. Still half asleep, I had slowly become aware that the boat was dead in the water.
I was struggling to open my eyes when the whole world caved in on me.
A jolt of pain shot through my skull, and at the same instant there was a brilliant flash of light. I was stunned all over. Numbly my head floated down and down, spiraled into a sea of darkness.
I lay there drifting, covered by a heavy blanket of stillness that would not let me rise. I heard strange sounds far away, the clanking of metal, the thunder of motors. There was a dark shadow standing over me. The shadow went away. Everything was saturated by the smell of gasoline.
I rolled on my back, trying to rise. The throbbing in my skull became unbearable. I kept trying to sit up. I had to. The feel of danger was all around me.
I concentrated on moving my arms until I was able to reach up and grasp the frame of the bunk above me. I got my eyes open and lay there groggy. The boat was still. The engines had stopped. I heard footsteps walking on the deck above my head. I heard waves splashing against the hull.
Then I reached for the money belt at my waist.
It was gone.
That was when I knew what was happening. Someone had slugged me while I slept. And the gasoline? A shiver darted along my spine.
I rolled off the bunk and stumbled over something on the deck. A body. In the dim light I saw Chris's dead eyes staring up at me.
I climbed over him and made my way to the open hatch. Instinctively I reached up and pulled a life jacket from the overhead braces. The motor of the small boat roared to life. I ran through the hatch.
A tiny ball of flame arched across the dark sky and landed in the stern. I dove over the side just as the gasoline ignited with a roar. It could have been my imagination, but I felt the heat of it on the soles of my feet.
The life jacket pulled me to the surface. The night was suddenly filled with brightness. The boat was swept from bow to stern by a single sheet of flames.
I heard the small boat roaring away into the dark.
For a moment I was still too stunned to feel rage. Duke Bevins had killed Chris. He had thought he'd killed me too. He had taken our money belts and burned the cruiser to make everything look like an accident.
I ground my teeth. Now I know why Duke had not wanted to cut the small boat loose when the cutter was firing on us. He had been planning this all along.
I kicked frantically, trying to put more distance between me and the burning boat. I was a hundred feet away when the fuel tank exploded, blowing the stern apart. I felt the shock and the wave of heat that followed a moment later. Even from that distance it was pretty intense.
I ducked my head under the water to cool my face.
The boat was listing now, going down by the stern. There was a loud hiss as the flames touched the water. She rolled to starboard and began to settle.
A heavy fog of smoke was settling low, beginning to burn my eyes. I kept watching the boat as the light diminished. The bow tilted up and she slid under with a sigh, enveloped in a cloud of steam.
The boat and the roaring flames had suddenly vanished. I was left with nothing but the lonely silence.
It's a funny feeling to be floating alone like that, out of sight of land. I slipped into the life jacket and looked around. Nothing at all in sight but a few wisps of smoke and the big Pacific Ocean.
I had no idea how far I was from land. Maybe twenty miles or more. Duke might have headed straight out, as soon as he took over the watch.
Far off in the distance I could hear the faint drone of the small boat. The sound was there for only a moment, then it slowly faded away. Duke would have a compass, heading back to land. I took a bearing on a couple of stars that were in the general direction where I had heard the boat.
I started swimming with the life jacket dragging me back. It was slow going.
I had been struggling more than an hour when the sky in front of me gradually began to lighten. I had figured my directions right. Dawn was breaking in the east, and that was the way I had been swimming. By daybreak I was so tired I had to float and rest every few minutes. The water was colder, chilling me to the bone. I'd been in it several hours.
The sun came over the horizon, diffused by a thin fog that lay all around me on the water. I could not see land, but I could hear dogs barking.
It was a good sound to hear.
I kept swimming in the same direction. Then I began to hear the roar of breakers whenever I stopped splashing. I hoped to hell they were breaking on a sandy beach.
The first sight of land was a jagged rock peak reaching above the fog. Then I saw the tops of palm trees, and finally a white ribbon of sand. I swam faster, and the rolling waves helped push me along.
The sun had been up more than an hour when I finally waded ashore. I was exhausted. For just a moment I felt a vague fear that Duke might find me passed out on the beach and finish me off. But he had a boat and plenty of gasoline. He was probably far up the coast by now.
I staggered out of the wash of the waves onto the warm beach. There I dropped to the sand and slept.
Water splashing over my feet woke me up. The tide had come in. I rolled over and looked up at the sky. The sun was directly overhead. I was feeling better, but I was still weak. And I was hungry as a bear.
I stood up. The beach was deserted in both directions, but I saw thatched roofs in the coconut grove off to the right. I walked that way. I was barefooted. I had just a pair of shorts and the life jacket. And the waterproof watch strapped to my wrist.
The watch could be my ticket out of this place. Wherever I was. If I could find somebody willing to buy it.
As I walked, I began to stagger in the deep sand. I was weaker than I had thought. My knees were ready to buckle. Sweat poured down my face and chest. My head throbbed. I touched it with my fingers and found the knot just above the temple where Duke had slugged me.
By the time I reached the grove I was practically crawling. I stumbled from tree to tree, leaning against each one for support.
I heard light female laugher very close, off to my life. I walked toward the laughter. Then I stumbled over a fallen log and sprawled onto the ground.
A dog came up and began to sniff.
Then there was a pair of small brown feet standing close to my head. I rolled over and looked up. There was a brown-skinned girl with long, dark hair. She was wearing a faded cotton dress and nothing else.
She had a pretty face and very bright teeth when she smiled. There was a look of uncertainty in her eyes.
"Buenos dias," I said.
But she darted away. In a minute she was back, and there was an old man with her. The two of them lifted me up. I tried to stand, but my knees gave out. They walked me between them, across a clearing and through the low door of a thatched hut. It was cool and dark inside.
I was conscious of being laid out on a woven mat. A rolled blanket was put under my head for a pillow. I drifted off to sleep, wishing I could sleep forever. I almost did....
When I woke up it was because someone was washing my face with a cool wet rag. The same dark-haired girl who had found me and brought me to her shack.
I tried to sit up, but a sharp pain shot through my head. My muscles were sore, and there was a throbbing inside my skull. I rubbed my head slowly and some of the pain went away.
The girl leaned above me, staring curiously. She was a trim little Indio with a full, fleshy body and heavy breasts. Moving with cat-like grace, she folded the wet rag and laid it on my forehead.
There was a flexing of muscle beneath the loose folds of her dress. As tired as I was, I felt the stirring of desire.
"Es bueno?" she asked.
"Si. Bueno."
"Como se llama?"
"My name?" I grinned. "Hank."
She repeated it softly.
"What's your name?" I asked.
"Pepita."
"You're very pretty. Bonita."
She smiled sweetly, showing the white edge of her teeth. She had full lips and eyes as black as coal. Her nose was pure Indio flat across the bridge with a sensual flare at the base.
"You bunger-y?" she asked, struggling with the words.
"Si. Very hungry."
"Okay baby."
She giggled. Someone had taught her a few words of English, and she was taking advantage of a chance to use them.
"You got food?" I asked. "I bring it "
She stood up, and I saw that she had solid legs. Her breasts swayed when she turned and walked away. I watched the jiggling motion of her ramp.
She stooped going out the door. I lay there smelling wood smoke and the odor of something cooking. She came back to me with a plate and a fork. I sat up, leaning on my elbow, and she began to feed me.
Plantains.
Fried bananas. And they were delicious. I ate everything on the plate. I could have eaten another helping. Pepita must has sensed it.
"More to eat?"
"Pot favor."
She went out the door and came back again. This time I took the plate and fed myself, while she squatted on her haunches and watched me, grinning with pleasure. Now and then her eyes wandered over my body, which was naked except for the shorts.
She seemed to like what she saw. I had a pretty good tan, but compared to her my skin was pale.
I had a good build because until the past year I'd done a lot of physical labor. And I'd fought a couple of dozen fights in the ring, amateur and a few professional. Until one night, in Miami, when I'd gotten my brains knocked loose from my skull, I'd decided that boxing was for the birds.
The knocks I'd taken showed on my face. It wasn't a face you could call handsome, and yet it possessed a kind of rugged charm that sometimes made women catch their breath.
There are enough women around who like their men to be hard. I've never had any problem finding willing females.
Money had been the real problem.
It was hard to come by. For the first time in my life I'd managed to accumulate a good nest egg, and then a lousy bastard named Duke Bevins had knocked me in the head and taken it.
The little Indio must have seen the scowl on my face.
"You okay, baby?" she asked. "Yeah," I muttered. My throat was dry after all the food. "You got water? Agua?" She nodded.
"I get it for you, baby."
She brought me a drink in a hollow gourd. I saw the fullness of her thighs where her dress was pulled tight as she leaned above me. She could probably squeeze the life out of a man with those sturdy legs.
I gave her a smile, and she smiled back.
When I reached up and slid an arm around her waist, she let herself go limp. She landed on top of me, her hips squirming, her hands stroking my face.
She kissed with her whole body in motion.
I slipped my hand under her dress, discovering that she wore nothing underneath. She whimpered with delight when my fingers stroked gently.
She clamped her legs and wormed. A throaty growl came from her parted lips. Her dress slid up around her waist as she began to push restlessly.
Leaning down, she kissed me on the cheek.
"Momentito," she whispered.
She jumped up and ran to the door. There was a rolled mat above it, tied with a cord. She loosened the cord and let the mat roll down. That gave us some privacy.
A mangy dogedged through the door and came over to lick my feet. She gave an angry cry and kicked the dog in the tail. It yelped and ran outside.
I watched in the dim light of the hut as Pepita pulled the dress over her head and hung it on a post. I shivered from the sight of her naked body, the dull coffee color of her skin, the roundness of her breasts and thighs.
Her belly quivered as she walked over and leaned above me. Her breasts swung pendulously.
I heard the hissing of her breath, for she was already trembling with anticipation. She shoved the two big globes into my face, then she began to roll her head drunkenly, causing her long black hair to sway across her shoulders. A wail burst from her lips, then became wild, excited laughter.
She wormed her hips slowly, thrusting and retreating. I caught hold of her swelling breasts and massaged them, pinching them into elongated cones. The hard brown nipples stuck out in throbbing stiffness.
Her torso writhed as though she were in a trance. Her breathing grew strained. Her breasts bobbed with each thrusting movement of her excited body.
I felt a slow burning start in my guts and spread through my bloodstream. This dame was utterly pagan, as primitive in her passions as a jungle animal.
As her ecstasy grew, her whole body began to shiver. Her belly quaked, while she wove a magic rhythm with her thighs. Her flesh was slick with sweat. Her black hair, falling about her face, gave her a wild, demented look.
Suddenly she shoved against me and locked her arms around my neck. Her mouth crushed against mine. Her black eyes shone brightly. Sweat rolled down her breasts and belly, cutting little trails through the dust which powdered her skin.
Moving into position, she pinned me down to the mat with her compact little thighs. I felt the warmth of her body, and it started a tingling along my spine. She must have thought I was too weak to take the initiative, so she was going to do all the heavy work.
I really didn't give a damn.
She pressed with her haunches and squirmed her torso. Then she scooted lower. The breath caught in my throat. I reached up and braced her, clamping my fingers into her fleshy hips. We moved together, our bodies twisting in the age-old tempo of lust.
For a moment we clung to each other, then both of us began to writhe in torment. Sparks danced along my back as she ground her hips. My body stiffened. Shock waves tore through me with explosive force.
I felt her shuddering too. And then her hips stopped moving as her strength ebbed away. With a sigh of contentment, she fell down and lay beside me while she continued to tremble. She had stunned me with the violent power of her passion. I could not fight against sleep.
Slowly I drifted off again....
CHAPTER FOUR
When I awoke, she was gone. I sat up slowly and found that my head could stand a little more motion. I was beginning to mend. It was time I started thinking about getting out of there and looking for Duke Bevins.
I wasn't sure what I would do with him yet. If there was some way to slip a knife between his ribs and get away clean, that was first choice.
But I had to get back my money. And I had to get to Acapulco in time to keep him from collecting the jewels. I intended to have them for myself.
That was even more important than seeing Duke dead.
There wasn't any real hurry getting to Acapulco, because the mail only left Puerto Reyes twice a week, and tomorrow was the day the train pulled out. Mail was slow in this part of the world. About as slow as if it were carried on the backs of burros, which it sometimes was.
The package with the jewels could take two weeks to reach Acapulco, even a month. But that wasn't any reason for me to be hanging around in this native hut letting a hot-blooded little wench sap my strength.
I saw my shorts wadded in the corner beside the mat, and I put them on. They were the only clothes I owned in this world. And the watch strapped to my wrist was the only thing of value I owned. I wound it and looked at the sweep second hand to see if the watch still ran.
It did.
That would make it a lot more saleable. But how in the hell was I going to find a buyer? I might end up in the pokey if I started wandering around in just my shorts.
I went to the door and watched the gal squatting over a wood fire. She was stirring something in a black kettle which hung from a crossbar. I hoped it was more plantains or something just as good.
She turned around and smiled. Then she dished up some kind of stew onto a plate and brought it to me.
I pinched her rump to show my appreciation. Then I carried the plate inside and sat on the mat. It was quite a mixture, corn and green vegetables and fish. Maybe a little goat too, since I'd noticed a few goats wandering around the village. Whatever it was, it was good enough to eat.
She sat down beside me and watched while I cleaned the plate. Her dark eyes stared without blinking.
"Where is this?" I asked. "Donde esta."
"Mi easa."
She gave me a toothy smile.
"I know. But what town?"
"Puerto Arista."
I shook my head.
"I don't know where that is."
"You don't know?"
"What state?"
"Chiapas."
"Oh," I said. "So I'm in Mexico. Tehuantepec."
"Si. Tehuantepec."
I grinned. I could see now why she was such a voluptuous little wench. The woman of Tehuantepec had the reputation of being Amazons. They kept their men so beat that they had no strength for anything but lying in the sun.
It would be a nice lazy existence, but I had more important business to take care of. There was a son-of-a-bitch who had tried to kill me. He had taken every cent I owned. I wasn't going to rest until I had him right were I wanted him. I was going to give him just what he deserved.
As soon as I put down the plate, she slid over and laid her hand intimately on my leg. I pushed the hand away. This was no time to get sidetracked, which would be easy enough to do, with a hot little piece like her.
I unstrapped the watch from my wrist and held it out to her. She looked at me uncertainly.
"Can you sell this for me?"
"You want money?"
"That's right."
"I try " she said.
She took the watch and walked out the door. I had to trust her with it. I didn't have any clothes, and I didn't know anybody around in the market for a watch.
I went outside and helped myself to another plate of stew. Then I stretched out on the mat to wait for her to come back. I could sure have used a cigarette.
She was gone nearly an hour. When she came in the door, she handed me a stack of crumbled bills. I smoothed them out and counted them. Three hundred and fifty pesos. That should be enough for a bus ticket to Acapulco.
I held out twenty pesos.
"For you," I said.
She looked at it and shook her head. Then she smiled and rubbed her belly.
"Mucho gusto," she said in a voice that growled.
I could see she was ready to jump on me again, so I hurried outside. I saw a pair of white pants handing on a limb to dry. I walked over and held a pair up to measure them for size. I figured I could get them on without splitting out the seams.
Again I held out the twenty pesos and made her understand that I wanted to buy the pants. She nodded and took the money. I put on the pants and found that there were no buttons. She brought a piece of rope and slipped it through the loops. That held them up good enough.
When I started to walk away, she grabbed my hand and tried to hold me back. I shook her loose. She followed me for a quarter of a mile, then at last she gave up.
I followed a road at the edge of the village which wound up into the foothills away from the ocean. It was a steep climb under the hot sun. I stopped several times to sit and rest. There were plenty of big leafed trees for shade.
Finally I came to a larger village.
It was just like any small settlement that you might expect to come across in that part of the country a few adobe huts along either side of the road, dirty-faced kids, barking dogs. In the center of town were a couple of shops and an eating place that wasn't too clean.
I sat down at a shaky wooden table and bought a meal for myself and the flies.
After I had eaten a few beans and tortillas, I found a small shop where the sold clothing. It was run by a fat little Mexican with a bushy mustache.
"I want to buy shoes and a suit," I said. "Everything."
"Si, senor. I have just the suit for you. El bianco white. Very good for tropical weather."
He pointed a chubby finger at the suit he was wearing, which was anything but white.
He took me to a rack and searched through it until he found something my size. The pants fit better than the pair I had on. He had a pair of oxfords made of woven leather which didn't pinch my feet too much. I bought sox and a hat and paid him eighty pesos for everything. That left me two hundred and forty-odd pesos.
Not a hell of a lot of money for traveling through Mexico.
"Does a bus stop in town?" I asked.
"Autobus? Si, senor."
"Where does it go?"
He waved his hand toward the mountains. "Al Machaquilla."
"And Acapulco."
"Si, senor. Very far."
"When can I catch the next bus?" I asked. "Manana."
"Not 'til tomorrow?"
"Only one bus a day, senor."
I frowned. I didn't want to get stuck in this dump of a town all night. I went out and walked a-long the street in my new clothes. I talked to several people who could speak a little English, and I finally found a ride.
One of the local big shots owned a junk heap, a nineteen-forty Chevrolet. I waved fifty paces in his face enough money to hitch a ride to Machaquilla. It was only thirty miles away, but the ride took us nearly three hours. We followed a dusty cow path and had to pull off it a hundred times to get around ox carts and lazy Mexicans riding burros.
We were just at the outskirts of Machaquilla when the Chevrolet ran out of gas. I got out and walked the rest of the way into town. There were a-bout a dozen shops in Machaquilla. Every town I came to was a little bit bigger than the last. At least I was nearing civilization.
I passed a kid on the sidewalk carrying a basket. He had cigarettes for sale. I bought a pack. They were the strong Mexican kind made of very dark tobacco. But at least it was tobacco, and I was glad to get it.
I found the bus station, which was just a wooden bench in front of a general store.
A clerk in the store sold tickets for the bus, a sullen little Mexican with a waxed mustache and the air of a petty official. I found out that a bus heading north would arrive in an hour or so. The way schedules ran in Mexico, that meant it should be there sometime before midnight.
At least I shouldn't have to spend the whole night in this dump of a town.
I sat on the bench outside and smoked, watching the local scene. There wasn't much to see. An occasional mangy dog. A peddler woman. An old man leading a burro loaded with firewood. Even a truck rattled by, carrying a load of straw mats.
The sun had already dropped low in the west. I'd be spending the night on a Mexican bus, which wasn't the safest place in the world for a man to try to sleep. I'd heard tales of buses running off the road in these mountains.
But I had urgent business in Acapulco.
My hands drew into knots as I thought about the business I had with Duke Bevins.
I went weak with anger, thinking how I would like to have my fingers around his throat for just one minute. I could almost see his face go puffy as I throttled him. It would be like sweet music to hear his dying gasp.
Some bastard. He had tried to kill us both. He had swiped every cent I owned. He had even burned the cruiser to cover up. And that boat was worth several thousand dollars, one third of which had belonged to me.
I had learned the hard way that you can't trust anyone. I had known Duke for more than a year. We'd been drunk and gone whoring together, living it up in Puerto Reyes.
I knew he wasn't an angel, but I never figured him for the kind of rat he'd turned out to be.
I sat there and chewed my lip, watching the sun set, casting its last faint light on a dusty Mexican town. And I swore I would have my revenge. Not just for myself, but for Chris as well. He wasn't the greatest guy in the world himself, but he didn't deserve to die.
I smiled grimly.
It was kind of comforting to know that Duke thought I was dead. It would give me the jump on him. I could just stay out of sight and watch him and wait for the right moment to strike. A oat and mouse game.
As I sat and waited for the bus, I tried to put myself in Duke's shoes, to feel what he was feeling, get into his mind. Where would I go when I hit Acapulco? A swanky hotel. Duke liked to live big, and with my money and Chris' he could afford the best. I tried to remember everything I knew about Duke Bevins. There was no telling what bit of knowledge might come in handy. This was one job I planned to do thoroughly.
Duke was from Nashville. He'd done a hitch in the army, where he'd learned to drive a bulldozer. That's how he had come to be in Puerto Reyes. He'd hired out to an American contractor who was building a dam for the government. When the job was finished, he'd stayed on.
I'd been sitting around the bars, waiting to catch another ship out. Chris had been laying low in Puerto Reyes, after a bank job had left him pretty hot in the states.
We'd all had a little money, so we pooled it and went into the black market. They were both shrewd, and they learned the business fast. I'd had some experience handling black market merchandise from the time I was stationed in Italy.
We had a thriving business going.
We would still have been in business, if the damned policia hadn't gotten too greedy. They didn't know it yet, but they'd killed the goose that laid the golden egg. There wasn't anyone else around Puerto Reyes who could build up the black market trade the way we had.
A bunch of stupid jerks who couldn't stand the steady flow of prosperity. They'd wanted it all at once. And so they had upset the applecart.
I cursed.
The world was full of fools. If Duke hadn't made his move, we could have gone on someplace up the coast and started all over again. We had the contacts and the money to work with. In a couple of years I could have had that nest egg I wanted to set me up for life in the states.
But there was still the jewels.
Split three ways, the take on the jewels would be quite a hunk of cash. But when I got my hands on it all, I'd be rich. That's the way it was going to be now. I'd made up my mind to it. I was going to have it all, and Duke was going to be very dead.
The sun was down. I suddenly realized it because everything was dark. There isn't much lighting in a primitive Mexican town. All I saw was a couple of fires in front of adobe huts where someone was cooking.
Then there was the flicker of a lantern in the window of the general store. The night had gotten cool. All I had to keep me warm was the flimsy cotton shirt. I went into the store to buy a bottle of liquor.
I would have settled for brandy, or even tequila. But all they had was mescal. It's pretty rotten stuff. And they put a big fat grub worm in every bottle, which doesn't make it very appealing.
But since that was all they had, I bought a jug. I sat on the bench and nipped from the bottle, thankful it was dark so I wouldn't have to look at the goddam worm.
I had a pretty good buzz by the time the bus finally arrived. The clerk who 'had sold me the ticket had said the bus would be there in an hour! I had waited four. That was just about the way I had figured it.
I climbed aboard and made my way down the aisle, stepping over bundles and a crate of chickens.
It wasn't one of their first class buses. Even those are pretty bad. This one was strictly for peons. I felt right at home with my white cotton clothes and bottle of mescal.
I settled in an empty seat beside a grimy window. It was a straight-backed seat which you couldn't adjust. I got as comfortable as I could and closed my eyes.
It was a long night.
I managed to sleep about fifteen minutes at a stretch, then we would hit a hole in the road and I'd be wide awake. Each time I awoke I'd take a slug from the bottle of mescal. It became a real comfort to me. Except that near daybreak I got down near the worm. I had to be careful not to swallow him. Even if I couldn't taste the damned thing, I imagined I could.
The morning sun rose hot and orange, directly behind the bus. We were winding through the mountains, leaning out on every curve. There weren't any guardrails, and I could look down for thousands of feet.
For several miles we went up a steep grade, higher and higher. And then we sailed down to the next valley, picking up speed, getting closer to the edge each time we hit a curve. I began to sweat inside.
The tops of the mountains were rocky. The valleys were green, matted with jungle growth. You could see a monkey now and then, and lots of brightly colored birds.
Later on we left the jungle and the highway leveled out. We traveled through dry, semi-desert where they raised a lot of cactus and sisal.
Finally we rolled through the narrow, rutted streets of a town and came to a stop in front of a bus station that looked fairly new and clean. There was a twenty minute stop. I went inside and had coffee with some kind of doughy pastry.
Then we were driving through the countryside once again. We had just reached the bottom of a steep grade, doing about sixty, when a tire blew out. Right under my seat. I heard the rubber flapping against the bottom of the bus. The driver took the whole road, driving a couple of approaching cars into the ditch.
He got stopped on the gravel shoulder. Everyone climbed out. The tire was flat all right, and the rim was bent. I was willing to bet every peso I had in my pocket that there wasn't a spare tire on the bus.
I was wrong. There was a spare tire to the back, and there was only one hole worn in the rubber that I could see.
I looked back when I heard the steady whine of a motor. A blue Plymouth came crawling out of the steep ditch, onto the road. The woman behind the wheel was American, and she was plenty mad.
I walked toward her, grinning.
She slammed on the brakes and got out to see if she had put any dents in the fenders.
She was a blonde, the first one I'd seen in quite a spell. And she really looked good to me. There was a light golden color to her hair that glittered in the sunlight. She was wearing a pair of skin-tight toreadors which displayed the graceful curves of her hips and legs.
The blouse she wore was made of a pale blue silky material which was drawn tight against the conspicuous thrust of her breasts, showing off every contour.
"They're crazy she said angrily. "Every mother-one of them. He went around me like I was standing still. No wonder he had a blowout. Look at those tires. There's not a bit of tread on any of them."
"Kind of lucky to be alive, aren't we?" I asked. "You were on the bus?" I nodded.
"For a while it was kind of hairy. I was hoping he could get it stopped before we went in the ditch. That would have rolled us over for sure."
She looked at me curiously. She had big blue eyes that could stare right through a man. Yet there was a softness behind them, a kind of bedroom quality.
"What are you doing on that bus?"
"I'm a victim of circumstances," I said.
"You must be at that "
"It's quite a story." I thought for a minute, then decided to tell it to her straight. Though she probably wouldn't believe it. "I was hijacked by a friend. We were supposed to be friends, anyhow. He knocked me on the head, took my money, burned my boat and left me swimming in the Pacific Ocean."
I didn't tell her about Chris being dead. There was no reason to complicate the tale.
"That wasn't very nice of him, was it?" she said. "I see you made it to land."
"I had a wrist watch. Sold that and bought these clothes and a bus ticket."
She laughed.
"You know it's such a fantastic story that I believe you. What happened to your friend who took your money?"
"He should be in Acapulco. He thinks I'm dead and he doesn't have a care in the world."
"I'm on my way to Acapulco. How would you like a lift?"
"Would I? My back's about busted from sleeping all night on that crummy bus."
"Come on," she said, giving me a pretty smile. "You can help with the driving."
I climbed behind the wheel before she could change her mind. It had been over a year since I'd driven a car, but I hadn't forgotten the touch. When we rolled past the bus, the driver was sitting on the ground, smoking a cigarette and staring fiercely at the busted tire.
CHAPTER FIVE
It was a real pleasure herding a new American car down the highway, especially with a lush young blonde sitting beside me in the seat. Now and then I cast a quick glance at her, and each time she looked better.
"What are you doing all alone down here?" I asked her.
"Vacation."
"You're taking a vacation by yourself?"
"I had a friend, but he took sick in Tuxtla. He got down so bad that he had to fly back to the states for treatment."
"Too bad," I said, though it wasn't too bad at all. "He must have drunk some of the water."
"How did you guess?"
"Happens all the time."
We'd been driving less than an hour when we came to Oaxaca, which is an old city with a lot of Spanish architecture. We were going through the center of town when the blonde turned to me.
"What is your name, anyhow?"
"Henry Sanborn," I told her. "I don't like the Henry so much but I'll settle for Hank."
"How do you do, Hank. I'm Monica Jeffries. Find a place to park. We're going to buy you some clothes."
"Can't," I said. "I'm busted."
"I'll take care of the bill."
"A man's got his pride "
"Pay me back when you can." She gave my leg a squeeze and smiled wickedly. "I intend to get my money's worth."
"I've never played gigolo before."
"There's a first time for everything." Her hand moved higher. "It's been three days now since I've had a man, and that's a long time for me."
I saw a space at the curb and wheeled into it. This was the kind of setup a man didn't came across every day. I'd be riding to Acapulco in style. And Duke Bevins was there waiting for me.
He didn't know he was waiting, but he was.
I just had to keep my wits about me and never forget my main purpose. That could be pretty hard to do, keeping company with a sexy blonde like Monica Jeffries.
We went into a men's clothing store together, and Monica supervised the fitting. She spent nearly two hundred bucks on me, and I didn't object at all. I would be needing good clothes when I reached Acapulco. Duke would be living in the best hotel, and I couldn't go there looking for him dressed in rags.
I ended up with two suits, a tropical worsted and a seersucker. I had matching ties, a half dozen shirts, and plenty of underwear. Monica even bought a leather traveling bag for me to carry it all in.
I didn't really think of it as a gift. I was going to get my money back from Duke, with interest. And as soon as I did, I'd be able to repay Monica.
Before we left the shop, she looked me up and down, giving me a thorough inspection. I could tell by her smile that she was pleased with what she saw.
"You're going to do nicely," she said in a husky voice that was filled with suggestion. "Now, come on. We're going to have some lunch."
"I'm for that," I said quickly.
I got to thinking back, and I realized that I hadn't eaten a thing since the beans and tortillas in Machaquilla. I was ready to put away the biggest steak in Aaxaca.
I led her by the arm going out the door, careful not to walk too close to her. I was needing a bath pretty bad. I hated to wear the new clothes, as grimy as I was, but at least I was coming up in the world.
From a distance I didn't look too bad, if it weren't for the two day growth of beard. Monica didn't seem to mind the beard. Her fingers kept squeezing my arm as we went down the sidewalk looking for a restaurant.
We found a place that was dark in the corners. I steered her to one of the corners where a candle was flickering on the table. She had the waiter bring us double martinis while we looked over the menu.
I ordered the biggest steak in the house. It turned out to be delicious. I ate everything in sight, including all the rolls and Monica's dessert. She was on a diet.
After that we returned to the car. She drove until we came to a high class motel where a lot of tourists were splashing in the big tiled pool. I waited in the oar while Monica signed for a room.
When we got inside, she dug a safety razor from her suitcase and handed it to me without a word.
I went to the bathroom and stripped down, for nearly ten minutes I stood under the shower, then I lathered my face with hotel soap and shaved off the beard. I combed my hair, arid I looked human again.
I put on clean underwear and went into the bedroom. Monica had ordered setups, and she had mixed us a pair of drinks. I took a sip of the good bourbon and soda. It was a hell of an improvement over the mescal.
They don't put worms in straight Kentucky bourbon. I was mighty glad of that.
Now that I'd had a shower and shaved and taken a gulp of the drink, I gave Monica the once-over. She was a beautiful sight to behold. She was enough to turn a man's guts inside out. I began to tingle with desire.
She stood there smiling at me, her blonde hair floating around her lovely face, piled on her head like a golden crown. She licked her mouth with the point of her tongue, then pushed out her lips, inviting me to kiss them.
The look in her bright blue eyes turned my in-sides to jelly. She was a real, honest-to-goodness blonde. She looked like a goddess, after all the dark-skinned little gals I'd been sleeping with for the past year or more.
Not that there was anything wrong with them.
In their own way they were just as sweet and fiery as a man could want a woman to be.
But there was something about variety that appealed to me. Monica was a real change of pace. She had that kind of pale milky skin that a man gets a craving to touch now and then. I really had the craving.
Her eyes glowed as she walked up to me. "I like your looks, Hank," she whispered. "You're something yourself "I replied huskily. "I go for beautiful blondes."
"Do you, Hank?" She smiled. "Help yourself."
As I drew her to me, she slid her arms around my neck. The heat of her body and the softness of her breasts pressing against me and started me trembling.
She clung to me hungrily, and her figure fit as though she had been made for just that. She slid closer, and there was a delicious contact in a thousand different places.
I covered her mouth with mine, and she returned the kiss with a fierce passion. She thrust her tongue deep and fluttered it, leaving me gasping for breath.
She increased the pressure of her lips as I caught hold of her buttocks and squeezed.
Then she began to grind her hips, rubbing her belly and thighs against me. Even though the toreadors and blouse she wore, I could feel the warmth of her body and the throbbing pulse of her desire.
Her hand slid down between us and shoved inside my shorts. She started a delicate, teasing stroke with her fingers that set me on fire.
Clutching me wantonly, she kissed with wild excitement, darting her tongue between my lips. We were both trembling now, breathing hoarsely. I returned the kiss, hard and bruising, while my hand tore at the buttons of her blouse.
I got it open.
Using both hands, I peeled it back on her shoulders. She twisted out of it, and then I began working at the snaps of her bra. It fell away from her breasts, and they thrust up quivering and soft and lovely.
I shivered at the sight of them suddenly revealed. It was like someone had shoved a fist into my stomach. They were so big and round and white. Two perfect pink circles topped the twin cones of shimmering flesh.
It was enough to take a man's breath away.
That's just what it did to me.
I caught them in my hands and held them captive, denting the softness with my fingers, massaging the satiny smooth skin. Monica gasped. She let her head fall back and began to weave in a hypnotic trance while I toyed with the nipples. In a moment they were pounding with hardness.
I felt the throb of her pulse against my palms.
As I continued to hold her breasts, caressing them tenderly, she fell back upon the bed. The pale snowy whiteness of her upper body made a startling contrast to the black toreadors which she still wore.
But not for long.
I wanted to see her stripped naked. And she was just as eager to have me undress her. She gave herself up, lying limply on the mattress with her arm above her head. I found the zipper and split it down the side, opening the toreadors. They peeled off like an outer skin.
I had a little trouble getting them over her ankles, but I kept tugging. And then nothing remained to cover her but the thin black veil of her panties. The cloth was so sheer that it hid nothing from view. I saw the dark area of her thighs even before I pulled the panties down her legs.
Monica raised her hips to help me.
I clasped the elastic top of the panties and pulled them down, bringing her loveliness into view, catching my breath at the sight.
I slid the panties over her twisting thighs and worked them down her legs. My fingers trembled as they touched the satiny smoothness of her skin. I got the panties free at last and tossed them away.
She lay there, naked as Eve, biting her lip and staring at me with wide-eyed excitement.
Then she held her arms up to me, wriggling her fingers, her whole body twisting with urgency. For a moment I had been standing there in a hypnotic trance, staring in wonder at the pale beauty of her arms and legs and thighs, at the trembling flesh of her thrusting breasts.
I had forgotten how bewitching a beautiful blonde female could be especially when she was stripped for action and writhing with sensual hunger.
I was drawn by the charm of her shimmying breasts.
I sat down on the bed and leaned above her. She caught my head in her hands and pulled, directing me. I shivered from the first contact of my face against those swelling breasts with rosebud tips.
When I opened my mouth and engulfed one of the lovely white mounds, I felt a shudder go through her.
I attacked the breast like a ravenous animal, yet holding myself back so I wouldn't hurt her. I sensed that she wanted to be hurt a little. Just e-nough pain to whet her desire and build her up to the final embrace.
I bit gently with the edge of my teeth, then kissed the soft core of her breast, feeling the nipple rise up hard and throbbing.
I toyed with the nipple, driving sharp gasps from her throat. I rolled it with the flat of my tongue, felt it stiffen and swell. Her flesh began to glow with warmth. She squirmed beneath me on the bed and clutched at my hair.
Her fingers began to claw. When I moved to the other breast, she groaned.
"Oh, darling darling," she sobbed. "You must think I'm a trashy bitch, but I can't help myself. I adore this kind of thing. When a man takes me in his arms, I tremble like jelly, I just go ape "
I didn't reply. I was too busy with what I was doing. It was the most exciting contact with pale woman-flesh I'd had in a long time.
I really worked that pair of blushing beauties over. I held the high-tipped peak of one of them in my mouth for a while, then kissed the soft underside. As I kissed the surging flesh, she began to tremble all over.
I moved back and forth, from breast to breast, clinging with my lips, teasing with my tongue.
I was getting my kicks too.
I was shaking inside, burning with desire. It was a wild sensation, feeling the soft flesh and the rock-hard nipple in my mouth. And all the time she kept tossing and whimpering and stroking my face.
Her hands clung to me possessively. Her arms tightened around my neck as she tried to draw me down upon her seething body. By that time I was ready.
I leaned above her and slid my hand down, a-cross her smooth belly, feeling the quaking softness. Her flesh was warm and slightly glazed with sweat.
She gave a harsh little cry and clamped her arms tighter around me, raising up to smear my face with hot kisses. Her bright blue eyes were wide and staring.
I moved my body lower until I was touching hers. There was a kind of electric shock that went through both of us at the first intimate contact. She shoved at me with her yearning thighs, and suddenly we were tossing together in a frenzied rhythm, making the bedsprings groan.
I crushed my mouth hard against the softness of her lips. She really went ape then, clawing at my back, shooting her tongue deep into my mouth.
I felt the pressure of her muscle-tight legs as she fastened to me in a kind of animal desperation. Se began to surge with volcanic fury, a compact mass of warm, writhing flesh straining beneath me.
I felt the supple movement of her haunches, the worming of her thighs. She had me snared in a voluptuous human trap.
I lunged at her, driving pained cries of delight from her gaping mouth. She gasped, pouring her warm breath on my face.
Suddenly she gave a shrill, demented cry. I knew she had reached the summit, and I was right there with her. We flew together, sailing over the top while her arms and legs held me imprisoned. For a moment we went insane together, locked in each others arms. Then as the shudders diminished, I released her and rolled away.
For a long time afterward I lay on my back, empty and filled with contentment, staring at the ceiling. I felt her presence beside me, and just knowing that she was there warmed my blood, made me tingle all over.
Now and then Monica gave a quivering little sigh and reached over to stroke my chest with her delicate fingers. She rolled over and lay with her belly pushing against my leg. We remained like that, waiting for desire to return.
"Hank," she whispered.
"Yeah?"
"How do you like me now."
"Better than ever," I said.
I turned my head and grinned at her, and she smiled back. She pursed her lips and blew me a kiss, then she clawed her fingers and dug them into my chest.
"Am I just about the best you've ever had."
"The very best," I said.
It wasn't strictly a lie, because of all the women I'd slept with, she was right up there among the few who were real quality both in looks and performance.
I laughed, thinking how the memory of women in the past had a way of fading. Some of them had been pretty damned terrific, yet the most recent bed partner seemed to take on an extra special quality.
For that very reason I would have to watch myself, or I might start losing my head over Monica. And that was something I couldn't permit.
I had much more important business to settle with one rotten bastard named Duke Bevins.
"Hank " she murmured, her lips close to my ear. "I don't want this to end, darling. You're so good for me. I've had my share of men, but none of them ever thrilled me as much as you. Honestly."
I laughed.
"You've got quite a line, Monica."
She clawed her nails and slashed at me with sudden anger, putting a couple of scratches on my arm.
"It's true," she said fiercely. "Don't make fun of me. Listen, darling " Her voice softened. She wormed closer and slid her arms around my neck. "Maybe in a month or two I'll get tired of you. It's happened before. But right now you're just what I need."
"Sure," I said. "We'll have our kicks, baby. But when it's over it's over."
"Not when it's just beginning, Hank. When the fire dies out okay. But let it run its course."
"You're a beautiful dish," I told her, smiling.
"But you're kind of kooky."
"Okay. I'm kooky. But if I keep you happy, does it matter? I've got money enough for both of us, darling. There's plenty of alimony from my ex-husband. And I'll be coming into an inheritance soon. A small fortune. Just stay with me, and I'll foot the bills."
I chewed my lip and turned away from the enchanting blue loveliness of her eyes.
Here was temptation to end all temptation. A great setup for a red-blooded man who didn't like to work. But I couldn't let Monica or any other dame turn me away from my purpose. It would be so easy to go along with her. But I could never rest knowing that Duke Bevins had gotten away with all the chips.
Still, I wasn't in Acapulco yet, so it wouldn't pay to make Monica too angry. So long as she was my meal ticket, I had to play it cool.
"We'll talk about it some more," I said, pulling her close to me. "Sounds like an interesting proposition at that."
"You won't be sorry, darling," she whispered breathlessly.
She shoved her warm thighs against me and began to rotate her hips, rubbing me with her plump little belly. It sent an electric wave up and down my spine.
I wrapped my arms around her, turning over on the bed. She sighed and began nibbling my lips. I caught hold of the soft globes of her buttocks and eased her over. There was a touch of flame as our bodies joined.
"Oh, darling " she sobbed.
She braced herself, arching up from the bed. I buried my face in the golden softness of her hair, drawing her tight against me. The rhythm commenced, and we were off again....
CHAPTER SIX
It took us two days to get to Acapulco, and I was constantly rushing things at that. Monica didn't want to leave the bed. She would have been content to spend a month or two there, just sleeping and doing what comes naturally.
. The idea kind of grew on me too. If it weren't for Duke Bevins there in Acapulco like a sitting duck, I might have been willing to go along with her.
After all, she was footing the bill.
But I insisted that we move on, so the next morning we left Oaxaca headed north.
A waiter in the motel cafe had told us there were no places a civilized man would dare to eat between Oaxaca and Cuautla. I had stood up under some pretty gruesome chow, but Monica probably didn't have my constitution. We drank an extra cup of coffee while the waiter ordered us a box lunch from the kitchen.
For a while we rode through the tropical valley that surrounds Oaxaca, then we began the steep descent toward Nochixtlan. There were several hours of pretty monotonous driving over a road that wound continuously around mountains and foothills.
We passed through a few green valleys where the natives raised corn and sugarcane. We passed through a lot of desert where nothing grew but organ pipe cactus.
There were a couple of places where the pavement disappeared, and we bounced over acres of crushed rock. It wasn't the greatest trip in the world.
In one of the narrow valleys was a small clear stream. We parked at the side of the road and watched some peasant women doing their laundry, kneeling on a big flat rock and dipping the clothes into the running water.
Monica opened the box lunch and laid out the chicken sandwiches on the paper plates that the waiter had provided. There was dark Mexican beer that had warmed up during the drive, but it was still very tasty. We had to catch the foam as I snapped off each cap, drinking half the beer before it stopped overflowing.
After we had eaten, we sat and necked for a while. But the pressure became almost unbearable, so we started the car and drove on in a hurry. We got as far as Cuautla, and neither of us could hold out any longer. The lure of this fleshy, warm-blooded blonde was beginning to get to me.
We arrived in the late afternoon in Cuautla and crawled at once into a hotel bed. That's where we spent the night. We didn't even dress and go out for dinner, we had it served right there in the room.
Every hour or so, like clockwork, passion kept returning to fire us up. It was the kind of orgy that grows and grows, getting better with age. We left a small lamp burning all night in the room, because with both liked the sights as well as the sounds and other sensations two people experience when they get lost in their own small world of sensuality.
Once I awoke feeling her moving beside me on the bed. She had crawled above me so that I faced the round pillows of her breasts. I seized one in each hand and began massaging them, pressing my fingers into the pliant flesh. I squeezed until the nipples stood out straight and hard, glowing a bright ruby red.
I swallowed one of the pointed cones, filling my mouth with it, and looked up at the passion in her eyes. She moaned and began to hiss through clenched teeth.
Suddenly she pulled me into a seething embrace. I held her naked body in my arms, slid my hands around her bottom, feeling her buttocks quiver as she swayed her hips.
My flesh seemed to be engulfed in flames. We were crushed against each other and our kisses became more frantic. I felt her burning with fever, shaking with tension as she lifted with me toward the pinnacle.
There was a high voltage current flowing from her nerves to mine. We were perfectly attuned to each other, and for a single, shattering instant in time we became one. It was in that instant that we lifted off together and went rocketing through space, our bodies pulsing to the same wild rhythm of ecstasy.
It was an experience that doesn't happen every day. A man could not survive for long if it did. It's just too damned hard on the nervous system.
I was the first one out of bed the next morning. I got up as soon as I was awake, took a shower and dressed. I didn't want to get caught in another session with Monica.
Her physical appetite never seemed to remain satisfied for long. It was time to put an end to the orgy.
When she finally awoke and rolled over in bed, I saw that spark in her eyes. She was ready again. She stared at me through the golden strands of her fallen hair. Her nostrils flared as she began breathing heavily.
She made a lewd movement with her full lips. The meaning was perfectly obvious. "Come here, lover," she growled. I shook my head.
She caught hold of her breasts and held them on her open palms, offering them to be kissed. When she saw that I had no intention of playing her game, she started to crawl off the bed and come for me.
I opened the door.
"Get dressed," I said. "I'll wait for you in the hotel coffee shop. Don't be too long. I'm starved."
"Come back to bed, darling," she pleaded.
"Huh-unh," I said. 'We'd never get out again. And I've got business in Acapulco.
"Damn you " she cried.
She picked up one of her slippers and threw it at me. I walked out the door as the slipper hit the wall beside my head. I lit a cigarette and went down the big winding staircase to the lobby.
While I waited for Monica in the restaurant, I had a cup of coffee. Pretty soon she came down. She was lovely in a pale yellow dress that was almost the color of her hair. She had gotten over her mad spell.
She sat very close to me and squeezed my hand. Every now and then her fingers tightened. She wasn't in a talkative mood, but when her fingers squeezed mine I knew she was remembering some detail of last night's carnality.
She was quite a wench.
I liked her, because she made no bones about sex. She liked it. She was a healthy young woman with an instinct for the bed. She had a lush female body which she knew how to use. And she wasn't ashamed to use it.
She had certainly sapped the strength out of me, and still she was aching to get me back in bed again.
Some woman.
Sitting there, gazing at me, she looked fresh and lovely even innocent. But she'd lost her innocence long ago. If every woman were like her it would be a hell of a world. There wouldn't be a man without a smile on his face. And every last one of us would be going around in a wheel chair.
I ate a big breakfast, ham and eggs washed down with plenty of black coffee. It revived me.
I was in a good mood as we drove along the highway, heading for Acapulco.
Monica sat close to me and kept her hand on my leg, clutching possessively. It was kind of nice driving a new car on a bright, sunny day with a luscious blonde sitting beside me. An untamed female who was always willing and able. A kind of perpetual motion machine.
As we rolled along the highway, I began to remember some of the gory details from last night. It sent little shivers along my spine.
Monica was one dame I really went for.
I was going to hate to dump her. But I'd made up my mind that's what I had to do as soon as I got to Acapulco. With her hanging on, it might foul up the works.
It was not quite noon when we came up over the top of the mountain and dropped down into the bowl-shaped valley where Acapulco lay, sprawled out along the crescent rim of sand. The big hotels beside the beaches were quite a sight to see.
Far out near the mouth of the harbor there were rugged cliffs that dropped right into the ocean.
"Oh, we're here " Monica said, sitting up excitedly. "Isn't it beautiful?"
"Haven't you been here before?"
"This is the first time."
"You're going to like it."
"Yes, darling " She leaned her head on my shoulder. "With you, especially."
I clamped my jaw tight. A sense of guilt made my face warm. It would be a dirty trick, walking out on Monica. I hated to do it, but I had no choice. Under the circumstances I'd welcome the chance to spend a couple of weeks in Acapulco with a warm little beast like her.
I wheeled the Plymouth around the narrow curves of the highway as it dropped down to sea level.
When we reached bottom, I turned left on Miguel Aleman and followed the broad boulevard around the curve of the bay. It was the summer season, and a few of the hotels had big banners offering special rates.
There was one hotel, the Castillo, that looked new and expensive, yet the rates were lower than the rest. It was a good bet that Duke wouldn't be living there. Not with his newly acquired wealth, when there were more expensive hotels.
I pushed on the brake and wheeled up the curved drive which led to the entrance. I parked in the shade of the canopy and looked at Monica.
"How does this one suit you?"
"Looks nice," she said. "Whatever you say."
"We'll stay here."
The two bellhops were already there to welcome us in. The off-season trade was pretty sparse, even in Acapulco. And someone was probably sweating the mortgage on a new hotel. That's what's made the service better than usual.
We signed in and rode the elevator up to the seventh floor. As soon as the bellhop had left us with his tip, Monica and I went onto the balcony to look down at the view.
There was a pool far below, surrounded by palm trees. Then there was the beach with a lot of bright umbrellas and the blue waves washing in. Some big white yachts were anchored out in the harbor. An excursion boat was rounding the point, coming from Caleta Beach.
"Lovely," Monica said, leaning against me.
The way she was clinging to my arm, I knew she was beginning to get ideas. That kind of thought was never very far below the surface of her mind.
I broke her grip and walked into the room.
"Listen, Monica. I have to go out for a while. There's some business I've got to attend to."
"You're going to look for your friend?"
"Among other things." I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'll be back as soon as I can."
Her eyes were sad. Maybe she could tell I was lying. I gave her a smile and walked to the door.
"I'll wait here for you," she said. "Don't be long "
"Go for a swim," I told her. "Rent an umbrella and lie on the beach. I'll find you when I get back." There was a pout on her lips as she nodded. "All right "
She opened her suitcase on the bed and took out a bikini that wasn't much larger than a couple of band-aids. I was sorry I wouldn't be around to see it on her. She was going to give the cats a big thrill when she strolled along the beach in that. It would be quite a show.
She was removing her dress when I walked out the door. I rode the elevator down to the lobby and walked across the street. I had seen a drugstore when we drove up, and that was my first stop.
I bought a bottle of peroxide and a cheap pair of sunglasses. I took my time. I wanted to give Monica a chance to get down to the beach.
When I phoned our room from the lobby, there was no answer. I got the key at the desk and rode up. First thing I did was strip to the waist. I used plenty of peroxide. In twenty minutes the color of my hair had changed from dark brown to a sun-bleached yellow.
I dressed and put on the sunglasses. The transformation was startling. I didn't even recognize myself, so I was sure Duke Bevins wouldn't. But to play it safe I wore the Panama hat which Monica had bought with the rest of my wardrobe. Then I went down to the lobby again.
There was a taxi parked at the curb, with a fat driver who was asleep behind the wheel. When I climbed in and slammed the door, he turned around lazily. He yawned and mopped the sweat from his face with a dirty handkerchief.
'Where do you want to go, senor?"
"Post Office."
He nodded and switched on the key. The motor ground slowly. He struggled with it for nearly a minute, working the choke to get it started.
Then we did a U-turn in the boulevard without looking back. I looked back, but he didn't. Some American tourist in a new Cadillac lost his hat when he slammed on the brakes. The angry blare of his horn didn't seem to bother the cabbie at all. He probably thought the guy was honking at somebody else. They drive that way in Mexico, and they have a lot of good luck charms dangling from the dashboard.
We flowed along with the traffic on the boulevard, which curved along the edge of the sea. I lit a cigarette and leaned back to look at the big hotels that lined the beach, wondering which one Duke Bevins was staying in, wondering how I was going to locate him.
Without him locating me.
There wasn't much chance of that, though, unless I got too damned careless.
As far as he was concerned, I was a corpse, feeding the fish at the bottom of the Pacific. That's where I should have been, because he had slugged me good and soaked me in gasoline and left me burning with the boat.
Sometimes I get a little lucky. It was pure luck that I had managed to stagger over the side just as Duke Bevins lit the funeral pyre.
Chris hadn't been so lucky.
I wondered how Duke had done him in. Maybe he had slugged him too, while he was sleeping. But I had found him lying on the deck, so Duke might have knifed him in the back. He liked to play with knives. He could just as easily have used one on me while I was asleep.
I was glad he'd decided to knock me on the head.
Just thinking about it made my skin crawl. My face started to ass with anger. Looking down, I saw that my hands were clamped into fists.
I cursed myself. If I worked up such a rage every time I thought about Duke, what would I do when I saw him? I had to stay calm, no matter how hard it was to do. I had to keep my head and take advantage of the fact that Duke thought he had nothing to worry about.
Duke was no fool. If I gave myself away, then he might just come out on top after all. And now I knew how vicious he was. I'd had a first hand demonstration.
We were crawling along behind a pack of slowly moving cars. We had reached the downtown section, where the traffic was congested.
Off to the left, the malecon looked like a carnival. Candy and soft drink peddlers lined the sidewalk. Kids were diving into the harbor for coins. Party boats were unloading the tourists with their catches. There were a couple of big sharks hanging from wooden crossbars.
The cabbie started blowing his horn at the car in front of us. He didn't have anything better to do.
Finally we reached the Post Office. I paid and climbed out, jumping to the curb before some crazy driver ran me down. I moved along with the swirl of people.
It was a real collection. There were a lot of Mexicans, and a lot more tourists, strolling along as they looked at the souvenirs in the shop windows. It was the only place in Mexico where you could see women in shorts. Everywhere else it was forbidden. But the Americans had taken over Acapulco.
There were peddlers with postcards in the entrance of the Post Office. I went inside and looked around for the General Delivery window.
There was a line of half a dozen people. I stood in the line and waited until my turn. The clerk gave me a toothy smile. He was a mestizo, and he wore his mustache proudly to prove it. Pure Indios couldn't raise a beard.
"Jacob Green," I said. "I'm expecting a package."
"Si, senor."
He went away and came back in a minute shaking his head. He didn't have the package. I knew he wouldn't because I was several days early. It was probably just leaving Puerto Reyes.
"There is nothing, senor."
"When is the next delivery from the south?" I asked. "From Central America?"
"The mail arrives from the south only once a day, senor. In the afternoon."
"What time?"
"Always after three o'clock."
I thanked him and walked out to the street. I glanced at my wrist and remembered that I'd left my watch back in Tehuantepec. I asked a passing tourist for the time. It was just a little after one. I strolled along the sidewalk looking for a bar. I had a couple of hours to wait.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I sat at the back of the bar nursing my second rum and coke. It was a nice quiet place. There were a few tourists and a few of the local crowd. It was just rundown enough that I wouldn't have to worry about Duke Bevins dropping in for a drink, even though I was sure he was in town.
I was pretty well disguised, but still I didn't want to test it on Duke if I didn't have to.
I worked on the drink slowly, but pretty soon the glass was empty. The bartender came up and made a sign with his head universal language for "You want another one?"
I pushed the glass toward him.
While he was mixing the drink, I looked over the cash I had left. A hundred and forty pesos wouldn't take me very far. For just a minute, I felt a touch of panic.
I was in a hell of a fix if I didn't get some big money soon. Duke held all the cards but one. I had a dandy hole card. He thought I was dead. But still the odds seemed to be in his favor, unless I could get some cash.
There was Monica, of course. But for a lot of reasons I had to ditch her. She would be wanting to go out on the town, and I couldn't afford to be seen in public. And she had a way of taking my mind off the job I had to do.
I picked up the fresh drink and took a belt of it. I had begun to sweat a little, because if I didn't get that money Duke had stolen from me, I'd be back where I was a year ago. On the beach.
And all the work I'd done in Puerto Reyes, making the black market pay off, would be down the drain. I didn't like being broke. I didn't like it now because I only had a hundred and forty pesos in my pocket. In Acapulco, you could blow that much on one good meal.
If Duke got away from me now, then the old struggle would have to begin all over again. Except that I might not find another place like Puerto Reyes, where a guy could make money by using his brain.
I could always go back to the states and find a job, or ship out again on some crummy tramp steamer. But I'd had a taste of money and freedom. It was a free and easy life. Who wanted to sweat a-way his years working for somebody else?
Not me. I had to be my own boss.
Nothing else would do.
I lifted the glass to my lips, then put it down without taking a drink. I had to make it last. This was no time to be squandering money. I wanted to stay off the streets until three o'clock. By two-thirty there wasn't even a lump of ice left in the glass, so I had to order another or get out I gave the bartender a nod and he brought me a fresh one.
The sun was beating down out of a cloudless blue sky when I walked across to the malecon. I found an empty bench and sat down. From there I was able to look across the street at the entrance to the Post Office.
I lit a cigarette and waited.
In less than ten minutes a cab pulled up, and there was Duke Bevins standing on the curb. He looked natty in a white suit and Panama hat. He had never dressed that way in Puerto Reyes. He was already starting to spend my money.
I felt my guts tighten as I watched him pay the driver and walk into the Post Office. The taxi drove off. I figured he would come across the street and take one of the cabs parked there, after he had called at the general delivery window.
I stood up and walked along the sidewalk, keeping an eye on the entrance of the Post Office.
I went down to the last cab in the row and climbed in. The driver folded a newspaper he had been reading. I handed him a ten peso note.
"We'll wait here for a minute," I said.
"Por que?"
"Just do as I tell you," I snapped.
"Si, senor."
He folded the bill and stuck it in his shirt pocket. I was hoping Duke would head back to his hotel when he came out. If he didn't, I might be facing the wrong way. But even if I missed him this time, I'd have other chances to tail him. Probably several days.
I hoped my calculations were right about the mail service from Puerto Reyes. If he came out with the package, then I'd be in trouble.
He came out five minutes later, and he didn't have the package. Just as I had thought he would, he came across the street and got into one of the cabs.
I tapped the driver on the shoulder and pointed at Duke's cab pulling away from the curb.
"Follow him," I said.
The driver grinned and nodded eagerly. He thought it was some kind of a game. He ground the gears and spun rubber off the tires getting started. And then he stayed right on Duke's tail, so close that I thought we would knock bumpers.
I touched his shoulder again and motioned for him to drop back. He did. We rolled way out on the boulevard to where the very best hotels were.
When Duke's cab pulled into the drive of the Hotel Royal, I motioned my driver over to the curb. I didn't want to wait while he fumbled with the change, so I let him keep the twenty peso note.
The walk leading up to the side entrance of the Royal was lined with bougainvillea. I followed it into the huge lobby. I had been right about Duke's expensive tastes. He couldn't have picked a more swanky hotel in Acapulco, a town that was loaded with swanky hotels.
I stood in the door for a minute looking around. Duke was at the desk, picking up his key. I waited until he was on the elevator, then I walked over and smiled at the clerk.
"Wasn't that Mr. Bevins?"
He looked puzzled. He scratched his pencil mustache with a delicate finger and frowned. Then he turned to the small file cabinet and flipped through the cards.
"No, senor," he said. "That was Senor Green."
"Jacob Green of course," I said. "I was sure I recognized him. Which room is he in?"
"Room six-fourteen," said the clerk. "Shall I ring him for you?"
"Don't bother. I'll probably see him at dinner."
I strolled over to the news stand just off the lobby and bought a paper. Then I went and sat in the corner where I could watch the bank of elevators.
I sat there for a while staring at the front page of the paper without reading it. Duke Bevins had become Jacob Green. He was playing the part to the hilt. A name Chris Maddox had pulled out of the air, that night we were clearing out of Puerto Reyes for good.
I wondered if Duke had arranged for identification papers to prove he was Jacob Green. It would be a handy thing to have, in case the man at the Post Office asked.
I didn't even have papers to prove I was Hank Sanborn. I'd lost everything in the goddam fire at sea. Among a lot of other things, I was going to need some kind of identification. But first of all, I needed money.
I had an urge to go up to Duke's room right now and get it over with. But if I finished him off now, that would be the end of any chance at the jewels. The clerk would remember me asking about Duke, and I would have to get the hell out of town, but fast.
I had to hold on tight and play it cool. It was the only way.
I lit a cigarette and settled back to watch the elevators. I had figured on quite a wait, but the doors slid open, and there was Duke again. He looked right at me for a second, clear across that monstrous lobby.
But there hadn't been a flicker of recognition. Who would expect to see a dead man sitting there?
Duke was wearing a terry cloth robe and slippers. So he was going to take a dip in the hotel pool. I studied the newspaper until he went out the side door. Then I got up and followed him.
I stood behind a bush and watched him get settled in a lounge chair. He put on a pair of dark glasses and rubbed suntan lotion on his chest.
I laughed grimly.
Duke Bevins, the bulldozer jockey, making like a millionaire. And using my money to do it. This easy living was making him soft. I hoped it had softened his head as well.
I left him there, basking in the sun, and rode the elevator up to the sixth floor. The locks on the doors looked pretty solid. I'd never been very good at jimmying locks, anyhow. There had to be a better way.
I stood there for a minute in front of six fourteen, wishing I had a crowbar. But of course that would make altogether too much noise for such a genteel place as the Hotel Royal. I had to think of something else.
I lit a cigarette and walked casually down the hall. It was a hell of a long corridor, running the full length of the hotel, which was about a quarter of a mile.
I was standing by the elevators smoking, when I saw one of the maids come out of a room wheeling her little cart. She locked the door, pushed the cart up the hall, and unlocked the next door.
I shoved my cigarette stub into the crock of sand and hurried along the corridor.
The maid had left the door half open. I walked right in. She was already stripping the bed. She gave a little gasp when she saw me.
I looked around like a confused tourist, then glanced at the number on the door.
"I'm sorry "I said. "I must have the wrong room."
"Ifs all right "she replied.
She looked me over curiously, then gave me a coy smile. She had a pretty Indio face and a lot of black hair tied in a knot behind her head. I saw her keys hanging from a string on the belt of her starched blue uniform.
She stood there uncertainly with a pillow in her hand, waiting for me to go out the door. Instead, I pushed it shut and walked over to her.
I put a corny, faraway look in my eyes, the kind that had made her heart flutter when she watched American movies. They all had. I breathed a heavy sigh, and she nearly swooned. Her dark eyes fluttered.
When I reached out to her, she let the pillow fall to the floor. She practically lunged at me.
I took a good hold on her firm little body and gave her a hell of a kiss. She slid her arms around my neck and squeezed, rolling her belly against me.
She was ready.
I could have made it with her there on the bed, and I was damn near tempted to do it. Just like the young gals I used to pick up at the bus station in Puerto Reyes, she had come to the wicked city to seek her fortune. And she had already learned a bag of tricks.
While I kissed her, I massaged her rump. She leaned against me with her eyes squeezed tight and gasped. She let my hands stray all over her wanton little body.
Finally I broke away.
"Wait here," I whispered. "I'll be back in a moment."
She licked her swollen lips and nodded. "I'll wait for you "
I rushed out the door and down the hall. I wanted to get inside Duke's room before she discovered that I had lifted her keys. I looked back as I unlocked the door to six fourteen. She still hadn't come out of the room.
I locked the door behind me.
Then I walked slowly around the room, looking it over. Duke's old suitcase was there, and so was a new one, which he had probably bought for a replacement.
I lifted the old suitcase onto the bed and flipped the lid open. It was empty. So was the new leather job. I started going through dresser drawers.
There was nothing there.
I looked in the closet, searched through the pockets of the three suits hanging there. I ripped the covers off the bed, lifted the mattress and searched the pillows.
Then I started going over the two suitcases an inch at a time. I found Duke's pocket knife on the dresser and cut away the cloth lining. I did the same with the new leather suitcase, and that's where I found the loot.
Three stacks of twenties. Three thousand bucks. I shoved them into my coat pocket. On the dresser Duke had left his wallet. I got another thousand from it.
That was all there was in the room.
I knew he hadn't worn his money belt down to the pool. So that meant he had probably put the rest of the money in the hotel safe.
I'd done pretty well at that. It wasn't the ten thousand he had swiped from me on the boat, but I'd get the rest of it someday. Right now I had more than enough to keep me going for a good long time.
I walked over to the door and stuck my head out. There was nobody in the corridor. I locked the door behind me and hurried to the elevators. I dropped the keys on the floor where the little maid would find them, and rode down to the lobby.
I felt a hell of a lot better with money in my pockets. I wanted to stop somewhere for a drink, a celebration. But there was something else I had to do first.
I hailed a cab and rode to the Hotel Castillo. Once more I phoned the room from the lobby. There was no answer. Monica was still waiting for me on the beach. I got the key and went up to the room.
My suitcase was already packed. I wrote Monica a note and put it in an envelope with two hundred and fifty bucks. I left the envelope on the bed and went out the door.
The manager thought I was checking out already, so I had to make a payment on the room in order to get by the desk. I had the clerk phone for a taxi. As soon as I was in it and pulling away from the hotel, I began to relax a little. Things were going my way at last. I hoped they would continue to go as well.
CHAPTER EIGHT
There was a small hotel next door to the Post Office, not the best in town, but quiet and clean. I rented a room, insisting to the clerk that it overlook the street.
As soon as I was settled in the room, I pulled the drapes and looked out the window. I couldn't see the entrance of the Post Office, but I could see the street in front. Nobody could go in or come out without me seeing them.
I smiled with satisfaction. When those jewels came in, I wanted to be right on top of them.
I didn't unpack the suitcase, except to hang up the spare suit. I'd be living out of the suitcase for a while. It was best to be ready to leave at a moment's notice.
The packs of twenties were bulky in my pockets, but I wasn't going to leave money lying around my room the way Duke had. I tried a couple of shops along a side street leading off Presidente Aleman, but I had no luck.
Then I stopped at a place where there were a dozen people along a bench, making things out of leather, wallets, belts and even saddles. I made a quick sketch for the head man to show him what I wanted, and he made me a money belt while I waited.
It took less than twenty minutes. I borrowed a back room to load up the belt and strap it around my waist under the shirt. Then I went on my way.
My next stop was another small shop that had just about everything in the window, including a display of guns. When I walked through the door, a sleek young woman with jet black hair and very light skin came up to me. She had a Latin face, sultry dark eyes and a sensual mouth.
"Good afternoon, senor."
"Hello," I said.
"May I help you?"
I looked her over. She wore a pale gray dress with a red sash. There was a bright red rose pinned to the side of her hair. It was effective as hell. I could see that she had the lean body of a thoroughbred, slim legs and narrow waist. Her breasts were big and luxuriant. I saw the soft shimmer of flesh and the deep valley between, because her dress was cut very low at the neck.
We stood there for a moment, silently appraising each other in a kind of mutual admiration. She arched her brows. I saw the interest in her big brown eyes.
I'd like to look at guns," I said. "Small. Pocket size."
"Oh-" She smiled. "It is muy macho for a man to carry a pistol in Mexico."
I watched the bewitching sway of her hips as she led me over to a display case. She took out a tray of guns, and I hefted a small chrome-plated automatic. A 25 caliber that wouldn't bulge in my pocket.
"I'll take this," I said. "And a box of ammunition."
"Anything else, sir."
"Not today."
I watched the jiggle of those magnificent breasts while she wrapped the gun and a box of shells into a small package. It gave me some pretty lowdown ideas. But I couldn't let a little sexpot like this distract me from my purpose, no matter how nice the distraction would be.
She counted out my change, then she handed me a small business card.
"You wish a hotel room?" she asked. "This is my uncle's place. Very nice"
"I've got a room," I said. "The Cortes."
She knitted her brows.
"I don't know this hotel-"
"Next to the Post Office."
"Oh, the Post Office." She flashed a bright smile. "My cousin works in the Post Office."
I chewed my lip. It was a harmless bit of information, but suddenly I was alert to certain possibilities. Iedged a little closer to her and gazed into those big brown eyes.
"You're very pretty, senorita"
The wings of her nose spread just a little, and I saw a tremor pass through her. Here was one hell of a woman, a purely physical little animal.
"And you are so handsome, senor."
"Could I take you to dinner this evening?"
I'd like that very much."
"What time do you get off work?"
The tiny pink tip of her tongue slipped out and stroked her full lips, leaving them moist. When she inhaled, her breasts rose buoyantly.
"I'm finished at six o'clock," she said in a low, sultry voice. "But I must freshen up for you."
"Say, seven-thirty?"
"Very good."
"I'm Hank," I told her.
"My name is Felicia Chavez. I'll write my address for you. It isn't far-"
She scribbled on the back of the card and handed it to me, purposely touching my hand with her delicate fingers. It was enough to stir up the fire in my guts. We both smiled and said goodbye for now.
I went back to my room in the Hotel Cortes.
L lit a cigarette and sat on the bed to open the package. I checked over the gun to get familiar with it, then I opened the box of shells and loaded the clip. I clicked on the safety and dropped the automatic into my coat pocket. It was small enough, so it was hardly noticeable. Though it would take me a while to get used to the weight of it.
There were still some hours of daylight left, and I knew that I ought to stay holed up in the room. But there was one more piece of business I had to negotiate.
I needed identification. I needed a name and papers, in case something went sour and I had to start answering a lot of questions for the police. I put on my hat and dark glasses, and I went down the stairs to the street.
In every city in the world there is a place where men on the shady side of the law can contact each other. Usually ifs a bar. I didn't know which particular bar it would be in Acapulco, but I had an idea what kind.
I would know when I saw it.
There would be a lot of drifters, who are never too hard-to spot. There would be sharpies and gamblers and guys who had left the states to cool off a while, the way Chris Maddox had arrived in Puerto Reyes.
It would probably be a waterfront bar, though most of Acapulco's waterfront was taken up by beaches and hotels. I decided to work away from the malecon, along some of the streets where tourists seldom went.
I looked out of place in my imagine clothes, though there were some hard lines in my face that would get me past the door in a lot of joints where the average American citizen wouldn't dare to go.
You had to look tough sometimes, when that was your only protection.
I tried several rundown bars until I found one that looked promising. It was a busy place. The few Americans sitting at the bar were not going tourist class. I sat on an empty stool beside a guy who looked like a seaman.
I ordered a rum drink and nursed on it for a while.
The guy was big, though he was going to seed. He had a hard face that carried the scars of several brawls. He was just drunk enough that the hair fell in his eyes and he didn't bother to shove it back.
"Can I buy you a drink?" I asked.
He looked at me through bleary eyes.
I'm drinking their damned tequila. If you're buying I'll switch to American whiskey."
I threw ten dollars on the bar. The bartender walked up, wiping his hands on a dirty rag.
"A double shot of your best American whiskey", I told him.
"Si, senor."
The drunk seaman waited expectantly, his hands twitching on top of the bar. He tossed off the double shot and gave a sigh of deep satisfaction.
"Want another?" I asked.
He nodded and shoved the shot glass toward the waiting bartender. Then he turned and gave me a hard look.
"What the hell are you after?"
"I'm in trouble," I said.
"Who ain't?"
"I need identity papers."
"What makes you think I can get them for you?"
"I figure you can."
He reached for the whiskey, which the bartender slid in front of him. He tossed it off like the one before and sat for a moment licking his lips and thinking.
"How much you willing to pay?"
"For good papers plenty."
"How much for me?"
I took a sip from my drink and watched him, letting him stew a little. With his thirst I could buy him for peanuts. But I didn't want to waste time haggling.
"Twenty bucks."
"Make it thirty and the change on the bar."
"Pick up the change," I said.
He gathered the coins and we went out the door. I followed him down a dirty alley which would turn to mud when it rained. We walked until the alley ended against the side of a hill. Then we climbed the hill, following a well-beaten path. On the other side of the hill was a cluster of adobe huts with thatched roofs. There were a lot of kids playing around an old junked car.
The seaman stuck his head in the door of one of the huts, said a couple of words in Spanish, then stepped inside.
I kept my hand on the gun in my coat pocket, just for the hell of it.
There was a guy lying on a cot in the corner. He raised his head and looked at us. He was a small man and he wore a pair of gold-rimmed glasses.
"What is it?" he asked.
"He wants papers," said the seaman.
"I see " The little man sat up and wiped the sweat from his face with the edge of his finger, then snapped it at the floor. "I can't give you a passport."
"I don't need a passport," I said. "Just a few papers to give me some kind of identity."
"I can give you a driver's license. Credit cards. Very good forgeries."
'Who will they fool?"
"Many people."
"The policia?"
"Even the policia." The little man grinned. "If you have trouble with them, the mordida will also help."
"How much for a license and a credit card?" I asked.
"One thousand pesos. Cash." I leaned against the wall and figured for a minute.
"That's eighty bucks, American. I don't have pesos"
"Dollars are very good," said the little man.
He opened a cabinet and took a shoebox from the shelf. Then he shoved the dishes to one end of the table and sat down. The seaman who had brought me began pacing the floor, clenching his hands restlessly.
He was feeling the need for another drink.
I didn't need him any longer, so I took thirty bucks from my wallet and handed it to him. He shoved it into his pocket and walked out the door.
The little man had found a couple of cards he had been searching for. He put the lid on the shoe-box and laid it back on the shelf. Then he took an old Underwood typewriter from the cabinet.
He turned one of the cards with the roller and adjusted it carefully.
"What name do you wish to use, senor?"
"Make it Jacob Green."
"And the address?"
"What state is the driver's license from?"
"Louisiana. If you prefer, I also have Michigan."
"Louisiana will do. Make it New Orleans." I figured there would be a Bayou Street in New Orleans. "Twenty-four hundred Bayou Street."
The little man typed carefully, hunting for each key. He filled out the card, then scrawled an official-looking signature at the bottom of it. He took it out of the machine and fixed up the credit card the same way. Then he used some kind of clear glue to put cellophane on both sides. When he had trimmed the edges it looked like a professional job.
It was worth the money.
I paid him and left, following the path over the hill. It was six o'clock by the time I arrived back at the Hotel Cortes. I knew that Monica had found my my note by now. She was quite a dame, and I'd hated to dump her that way. But there were plenty of females around. When you got rid of one, there was always another to take her place.
I figured Felicia Chavez would make a dandy substitute.
As soon as I got to the room, I slipped the new identity cards in my new wallet, and I was a human being once again. I stripped down and showered and shaved. Then I took a cab to the address on the card Felicia had given me.
It was a three-story, modern apartment building with balconies on every floor across the front and a lot of potted plants on the ledges. Balanced precariously. So that if one should happen to jiggle off, it would be sure to hit a pedestrian in the street below.
That was one of the crazy games they played in Mexico.
Somebody gets beaned by falling objects, they shake their heads and call it fate.
When Felicia answered the door, I got one hell of a thrill. She was downright gorgeous. She was wearing a black velvet gown, and I could see right away that black was her color. It went with her hair and set off the creamy smoothness of her skin. like ivory and ebony. Pale loops of gold dangled below her ears--
The only touch of color was the crimson of her lips and a small pink cameo she wore around her neck on a black ribbon. She wore her long black hair pulled away from her face, framing it. Her hair was tied in a bun at the nape of her neck, and there was a small curl on each cheekbone. She had a delicate nose and burning black eyes.
It was a classic Spanish face.
There was mystery and promise in the dark pools of her eyes. Felicia was as beautiful and desirable as any woman could possibly be.
She arched her eyebrows and smiled at me.
"Good evening, Hank."
"You're a real jewel, Felicia," I said.
Her smile grew broader.
"You like me?"
"Very much."
"And I like you Hank. I'm very happy you came into the store today so we could meet. I hurried over as soon as I saw you, before the other girls could take you away. Do you have the gun?"
I felt my coat pocket, and it was there. I'd already gotten so used to it that I no longer noticed the weight.
"I have it," I said.
"Who are you going to shoot?" she asked coyly. "Nobody."
"You must want to shoot somebody. That's what guns are for." There was a hint of suspicion in her eyes. "If you want to kill someone, you should hire a pistolero to do it for you. In Mexico it is easy."
It wouldn't be a bad idea, I thought grimly. If I had all the money Duke Bevins had stolen. But right now he was worth a lot of money to me alive. I'd heard enough talk about the gun, which seemed to fascinate Felicia.
"Let's change the subject. I'd rather talk about you," I said. "You're beautiful."
"I know," she replied nonchalantly. "And the evening is beautiful. Let's go have fun together-"
I took her arm and led her down the stairs. I'd already picked out the restaurant where I wanted to take her. A quiet, out-of-the-way place which shouldn't attract a jerk like Duke Bevins. But it had quality just the same, and the food was supposed to be good.
Another asset was the lights, which were kept very low. The only illumination was the candles flickering on the tables. The waiter led us to a corner near the string ensemble. We had cocktails, then a leisurely meal, then more drinks. After that we danced for more than an hour.
Felicia was a sweet little armful. I felt the supple movement of her body as she leaned against me, and I felt the softness of those big, swelling breasts.
The lights were low, the music was pleasant and romantic, like only Latin music can be. As I danced with Felicia, her body pressed tight against me. I was aware of every contour, and my blood began to warm.
I moved my hand upward along her back until I touched the bare skin above the clinging black velvet of her gown. My fingers caressed her neck. I felt her shiver.
Her arms tightened.
"That's so good," she whispered. "So lovely."
"Bueno?" I asked, kissing her cheek.
"Mucho bueno," she sighed.
When she inhaled I felt her breasts expand against me like s pair of inflating balloons. She clung to my neck and began to rotate her hips. She was fired up too, and making no attempt to hide it.
I nibbled her ear.
"Felicia-"
"What?"
"I want to take you home with me."
"Of course, hon-eee," she whispered. "I want you too. You are muy macho, Hank. A real hombre. I just melt in your arms."
"Shall we go now?"
"Yes. If you like-"
As soon as we returned to the table, I took care of the check and the tips. It was cool on the street when we went outside and caught a taxi. I told the driver to take us to the Hotel Cortes.
Felicia's body went limp as I took her in my arms. Her lips parted and her tongue was there, worming brazenly into my mouth. She stroked my cheek with her fingers.
They were flame-tipped fingers with a delicate touch like the stroke of a feather. I could imagine how she could rouse a man with those fingers alone. Yet she had all that proud, voluptuous body to go along with it.
I pulled her hard against me and returned her kiss with fire. She went suddenly wild with passion, breathing hoarsely, making gasping sounds in her throat.
She was crawling all over me, digging her fingers into the back of my head, kissing my face, smearing her hot lips, biting with her teeth. She'd gone absolutely out of her mind. She kissed my eyes, licked my mouth, then she thrust the fluttering point of her tongue into my ear.
I nearly went through the roof of the cab.
Finally I realized that we were parked in front of the hotel. It took us a minute to get untangled--
I paid the cabbie and we walked across the lobby, holding each other. I felt her hip bumping against my leg.
We climbed the one flight of stairs, breaking into a run at the top. Then we were in my room and she was hanging onto my neck, pounding at me with her excited thighs.
She was making all the body motions of love, and yet we both still had all our clothes on.
I was trembling with desire. I crushed her against me fiercely, kissed her face and mouth. I nuzzled beneath her ears and kissed the tiny lobes.
"Oh, honeeeeee-" she sighed.
It was that same old cry of lust I'd heard so many times from passion-fired senoritas down in Puerto Reyes. Felicia looked all the world like a lady when she was fixed up, but underneath it all was a bawdy little tramp.
And that was the way I wanted her to be.
I never could stand a dame who pretended she didn't like it when she did. When they feel raw passion, I want them to damn well show it.
The way Felicia did.
Her whole body seemed to be tingling with joy. I pushed my hands down and cupped her quivering buttocks, feeling the warmth of them through the velvet gown. Her hips swiveled, her belly rubbed.
We were both floating six feet off the ground.
At last she pulled away and reached behind her neck. When she loosened her hair, it fell down her back, reaching almost to her waist. It was as black as coal, with little blue sparks glowing here and there on the surface.
"Undress me," she whispered.
Her eyes were half closed as she watched me. Her lips were swollen and feverish.
I reached behind her and found the zipper of her gown. It fell away easily. I pulled it over her hips, and she stepped out of the clinging black velvet. Then she dropped onto the bed. She lay there wearing black panties and bra, sheer black hose and a black garter belt. All enhanced by the pale glow of her skin.
I removed her slippers.
I slid my fingers beneath the top of the lace panties. She lay there trembling, clutching the bed. I unsnapped the garters and removed the belt. One at a time I rolled her stockings down her legs. They peeled away smoothly with a tiny whisper of silk.
Next I rolled her onto her side and unfastened the bra. It was a startling sight to see her magnificent breasts suddenly burst into view.
They were even larger than I had guessed, almost oversized, for such a small female. And yet they were lovely big hillocks of flesh, firm and pink-tipped. There were small blue veins just below the milky white surface.
Felicia caught my neck and snuggled against me, her hips writhing. Then she started clawing at my clothes. I stood up and began to strip. She was so anxious that she peeled the panties down her legs and lay there waiting for me.
I fell beside her and caught her in my arms.
We lay struggling, kissing frantically, until neither of us could hold off any longer. I rolled her onto her back, and in the next instant we were together, tossing on the bed.
Waves of feeling swept over me like white-hot flames. I felt the soft bulbs of her breasts rolling beneath me, felt the round little dome of her belly, the frenzied clutch of her thighs and scissoring legs.
I smelled the perfume in her long dark hair as it swirled around my head. She climbed higher and higher, smearing my face with kisses. Her lips and tongue were everywhere, urging me on.
My face was buried in that mass of lovely, raven-black hair. It covered my eyes and mouth. I was surrounded by it, and I had to fight to breathe.
We were sweating all over now, and our skin stuck together. I was panting from exertion, but still she kept revolving those seductive hips, clamping her body to mine.
Her sharp nails tore at the muscles of my back.
Never once did she stop writhing and thrusting with her greedy little thighs.
She squirmed against me, reaching up for me while she arched her back. We surged faster and faster, our bodies straining. A sob burst from her throat, then a wild pagan cry of delirium. We went spinning together through space, as convulsions tore through us both at the same instant.
I held her in a violent grip, crushing her hot, lusting body to me. The light faded, and the vision of her lovely, twisted face grew dark before my eyes.
I fell exhausted at last and felt her still quivering against me. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It sounded like a sigh.
A sigh of pure contentment.
CHAPTER NINE
It turned out to be one of those nights a man can think back on in his old age. Felicia was a real little wildcat with only one thing on her mind. As the night wore on, we became more and more experimental. She wanted to try every erotic technique in the books.
I went right along with her.
I was having a ball. When a female like Felicia fires me up, I'm game for anything. She was a jaded little wench. It was impossible to sleep, of course, with a sex kitten like her in bed.
We tried variations on variations, and every one seemed to be more exciting. Some experiments called for a lot of weird contortions, which somehow added to the enjoyment.
But all good things come to an end. Finally I couldn't keep my eyes open any longer. Lucky for me I was in bed at the time. Even as I dozed off, I felt her hand tormenting me, still trying to revive the spark.
I slept until morning.
Felicia was still asleep, so I unwound carefully and rolled off the bed. I went to the bathroom and took a shower, then shaved. When I returned, she was sitting up in bed.
"What time do you go to work?" I asked her.
"I don't want to go to work." She pursed her lips. "I want to stay with you, honey. I want to make love forever."
"Sounds like fun," I said. "But it isn't very practical. You don't want to lose your job-"
"I don't care about that--I can always find a job. But I can't always find such a good lover-man."
I walked over to the dresser and flipped a cigarette from the pack lying there. I lit it and sat down in the big easy chair. At once Felicia slid off the bed and came over to plop down in my lap.
We were both mother-naked, and it felt kind of nice. But I wanted to be left alone while I thought something through. I pushed her away.
She pouted for a moment, then went into the bathroom and took a shower. When she came out, her hair was wrapped in a towel. She let it down and stood in front of the mirror, combing out the tangles.
She had quite a head of hair. It covered her back like drapery, reaching almost to her waist. I said, "Felicia-" She turned around, smiling. "What, honey?"
"You want to be a big help to me."
"Anything you want, honey."
"Would your cousin who works in the Post Office be able to watch for a certain package?"
"Oh, sure. He unloads the trucks and sorts the mail. It would be easy for him."
"Good. I want you to go have a talk with him."
While Felicia watched curiously, I wrote out the details on a slip of paper. Then I took two twenties from my wallet. Her eyes grew wide.
"What's this for, honey?"
"For your cousin. Tell him I'll pay that much again if he will hold a certain package until I pick it up. I wrote down the name that will be on the package. Jacob Green. Addressed, General Delivery."
"What's in the package, honey?" she asked curiously.
"Nothing valuable," I said quickly. "Just some important papers that someone else is trying to get. He'll call at the general delivery window every day. But tell your cousin to keep the package until I come to pick it up."
"How will you know when it arrives?"
"I want you to check every afternoon."
"All right, honey." She smiled seductively and pushed her nude thighs against me. "I'll do anything you want."
"Get dressed now," I said. "Go talk to your cousin. Then we'll go have breakfast."
"I can stay with you then?" she asked excitedly.
I nodded, then gave her a swat on the butt to hurry her along. I sat on the bed and watched her dress. She would look out of place wearing a velvet gown in the middle of the day. I decided to take her to her apartment to pick up her clothes, as soon as she came back to come irt real handy.
When she went out the door, I stood by the window and watched for her. I had a good view from the window. I could see her going along the sidewalk until she went through the Post Office entrance.
She was back in ten minutes. By that time I was dressed. She slithered up to me, twisting her hips seductively, and put her arms around my neck.
"Everything is okay, honey. My cousin will watch for the package."
"Good," I said. "This afternoon you'll go check at the window, at three-thirty. You'll do it every day. And always come right back to report to me."
"Okay, honey. Anything you ask-"
"Whatever you do, don't pick up the package. I'll go over and get it myself."
"Okay, honey"
She gave me a wet kiss, smearing her soft mouth on mine, doing wicked things with her tongue. We stood there that way for nearly a minute. I almost got carried away, but I broke it off finally. There were too many things to be done. I didn't want to get sidetracked now.
"Come on," I said. "We're going to your apartment."
"Why, honey?"
"If you're going to move in with me, you'd better pack a few things."
She had no objections to that. We went down to the street and caught a cab. When we pulled up in front of her place, I shoved open the cab door.
"Go on up and pack. I've got something to do. I'll pick you up in about an hour."
She pouted and gave me a questioning look with those big brown eyes. Then she smiled faintly. "You be sure and come back, honey . "
"Don't worry."
I had the cabbie drive me to a used car lot. While the grinning salesman tried to sell me every lemon he had, I wandered down the rows, looking for a serviceable car that I could depend on to get me out of the lot without breaking down. I settled on a Karmann Ghia, after driving it around the block and giving the motor a quick inspection.
The grinning salesman and I finally struck a bargain for eight hundred cash. It put a dent in my resources, but at least I had transportation. I was doing pretty good for a guy who had arrived in town broke a couple of days ago.
Felicia was waiting for me in front of her apartment house, sitting on a battered metal suitcase. Her eyes grew wide when she looked over the Karmann Ghia. I got out and helped her with the suitcase.
"I didn't know you had a car, honey," she said, squeezing my hand. "It's beautiful-"
It wasn't that much of a car. I'd have been more satisfied with a couple hundred more horsepower, but at the moment it was all I could afford. Someday, when I had settled with Duke Bevins, I planed to own a new Caddy.
"I just bought it," I told her.
"You must have lots of money."
I was looking at Felicia when she said it. I didn't like the look of greed that crossed her face for an instant. like most of her countrymen, she probably indulged in the national pastime of filching everything she could get her hands on. I made up my mind to keep an eye on the money belt, day and night. Especially night.
We had a couple of hours to kill before Felicia made her mail run, so I took her to lunch at a small cafe near the Playa Caleta. It had once been the plushest section of Acapulco, but most American tourists had deserted it for the newer attractions around the north and east rim of the bay.
We had cocktails and some very good broiled lobster. Then I took Felicia for a drive out to Puerto Marquez. I got us back to the hotel room by three o'clock. Felicia slipped her arms around my neck and went soft like a kitten.
I kissed her for a minute, then held her off.
"Time for you to go to the Post Office," I said.
She pouted.
"Can't it wait, honey?" She licked her lips and fluttered her eyes seductively. "What's so important about an old package?"
I dug my fingers into her wrist, making her yelp.
"It's important to me."
"All right, honey," she whined. "You don't have to be so rough. I'll go"
"Talk to your cousin," I said. "Nobody else. If the mail hasn't arrived from the south, wait until it does."
"Okay, honey."
"And remember. Don't pick up the package-Just come back and report to me."
"All right, Hank. HI do what you say."
She kissed me full on the mouth with her soft, wet lips, grinding her belly against my leg. She growled deep in her throat. Then she opened the door.
"We'll go to bed as soon as I'm back," she murmured. "You got to take care of me, honey"
"Soon as you're back-" I replied.
After she had gone, I lit a cigarette and stood at the window watching the street. I saw her go into the Post Office. In less than a minute, a cab pulled up and Duke Bevins stepped out. I didn't like it that the two of them would be in there together. After a couple of days seeing her there, Duke might get suspicious. I didn't want Duke suspicious. I wanted him lulled and full of confidence.
But it was better to send Felicia than to go myself. I'd given it a lot of thought and decided this was the best way to handle things.
I didn't worry much for the first five minutes. I leaned against the window sill and lit a second cigarette from the butt of the first one. I puffed nervously. They were still in there. I started getting jumpy. I fought against the urge to rush down and see what was happening.
The mail hadn't arrived yet. That was all. With all that money at stake, my nerves were bound to be on edge. I didn't like to think that this might go on every day for a couple of weeks. I wished to hell the package was there so I could grab it and get out of town.
Felicia came through the door. There seemed to be an urgency in her step. She headed for the hotel, crossed the street and disappeared from my sight.
Then I saw Duke come out and signal to a taxi. The sight of him suddenly twisted my guts into knots. Anger shot through me, causing my muscles to tense. I ached to get my fingers around his throat. My hatred was a throbbing in my head.
Then it went away, almost as suddenly as it had appeared. I didn't want to feel such rage, because it might dull my purpose. Getting the jewels was the important thing. Revenge was strictly secondary. And only if I could lean on Duke without getting myself in a mess.
Felicia was at the door.
I opened it and let her in. There was a lewd smile on her crimson lips. Already she was pulling at the zipper of her dress. She let her purse fall carelessly to the floor. I caught hold of her arms and shook her roughly.
"Is it in?"
"What?"
"The package!"
For a moment she seemed confused. Already she had forgotten why I had sent her. The urgency in her step had been caused by something else, by the shivering excitement of her passion. All she cared about was climbing into bed.
"Answer me!" I shouted.
"It isn't in, honey."
I felt suddenly let down. I hadn't really expected it to be in yet, but I had built myself up too much. Day after day, this was really going to be hard on my nerves.
I stood in front of the window, staring down at the street. Felicia came up behind me. Her arms locked around my waist. She had removed the dress and her bra. I felt the soft pressure of her breasts on my back.
"Are you mad at me, honey?"
She started a slow, seductive jiggle, and all at once my frustration melted away. I turned around. She was stark naked, gasping with sensual hunger. I kissed her for a long time, and she twisted her thighs against me.
"Come to bed," she whispered. "I'm ready-"
Running ahead of me, her bottom swishing, she dove across the mattress. As I pulled at my clothes, I stared down at her, lying on the bed, her torso coiling, her lush thighs revealed, her breasts quivering.
She had a fantastic female body, a perfect figure. Round, bulging breasts. A narrow waist. Full hips. Her trim legs were drawn up and her knees were together. She stared at me through long dark lashes and shaped her mouth for kissing.
Then she shook her shoulders, causing her breasts to sway and tremble. The nipples stood out bright and red, throbbing with splendor.
I kicked out of my shoes and fell beside her, pressing my bare body to hers. She wound her arms around my neck. Her hips were in motion, squirming, thrusting wantonly. I felt her nestling thighs and the warm pressure of her breasts.
We had both begun to sweat with excitement. Our flesh was slick as we wound together on the bed. The animal scent of her heated body sent shivers along my spine. She wound her fingers in my hair and kissed me, darting her tongue into my mouth. Our breathing became ragged.
We moved together and our bodies seemed to melt, then fuse. Felicia began to grind her hips. Her legs clung to me, her thighs caressed. The tempo grew wilder. She was such a bawdy little wench, so fired up with passion, that I let her take the lead.
I cupped my hands around her bottom and clung to her as she carried me higher and higher with the rising crescendo of her lust. She had turned into a jungle cat. She groaned and whimpered and spat raking her nails across my back.
She let out a scream.
I felt her quaking inside as she thrashed beneath me. A blinding flash exploded before my eyes. I was shaken with tremors. I felt my body lift up and come crashing down to earth again. When consciousness returned, I was still sprawled on her sweaty, heaving body, trembling all over and gasping for breath.
CHAPTER TEN
We kept this up for three days, spending most of our time in the bed, dressing only for an occasional meal, or in the afternoons when Felicia made her daily trip to the Post Office. On the fourth day all hell broke loose.
I was sitting on the window ledge, watching the front of the Post Office. Felicia had just gone in. Then Duke Bevins drove up in the cab, as he had every afternoon. It was going according to script.
My insides were tied up in knots as usual. The same thing every day was beginning to get to me. I sat and smoked while the sweat trickled under the collar of my shirt.
Then, sooner than I had expected, Felicia came out the door. I jumped up, banging my head against the window.
She had the goddam package in her hand.
I cursed and ground my teeth. After I had told her to leave it there and let me pick it up. Every day I had told her when she went out the door.
Duke came out, right at her heels.
She didn't know Duke from Adam, but he was following her.
I leaned out the window and opened my mouth to shout at her, then I bit down hard. The last thing I wanted was for Duke to know I was alive.
When he followed her up to the room, if she got that far, that would be the end of Duke. But I had to get the jump on him. Duke stood on the steps of the Post Office, watching her, trying to make up his mind whether to jump her there on the street or follow her.
Felicia walked to the corner, then turned down a side street. My curse came out a scream.
The bitch was double-crossing me.
I ran across the room, snatching up my coat from the chair as I busted out the door. I felt for the automatic in the coat pocket. It was there.
I took the stairs two at a time. As I dashed across the lobby. I shrugged on the coat.
I went around the corner on the run. It was too late now to worry about whether Duke saw me. He would be intent on Felicia anyhow. I caught a glimpse of his pale blue sport coat a half block ahead.
I was conscious of banging into people, knocking them aside, as I ran along the sidewalk.
Then I slowed down because Duke was walking and I was only fifty yards behind him. Felicia was ahead of Duke, going as fast as she could in her high heels, half running, half skipping. When she turned the corner I saw the package, the size of a cigar box, wrapped in brown paper.
Duke came to the corner next. When I reached it Felicia was gone. There was only Duke and the empty sidewalk and some kids playing baseball in the street.
Duke was running now.
He turned down a narrow opening, and when I reached it I saw it was a passageway between two buildings. There was sunlight at the far end.
I waited until Duke was out of the passage, then I ran. My feet clattered on brick, echoing off the narrow walls.
Something exploded loudly just as I reached the sunlightI broke my stride and shoved my back against the wall. The automatic was in my hand. I eased up to the edge of the building and looked into the empty patio-There was an old stone fountain in the center of the area, which was walled in by buildings on all sides. There were a few small tropical trees and the stench of a thousand privies. When I moved into the open, my foot crushed an overripe banana that lay on the ground.
I stumbled forward, suddenly tense with panic, because I didn't see either of them. After all the goddam waiting, Duke had come out on top.
The bitch the bitch the bitch, I kept mumbling over and over, grinding my teeth.
There was a wooden scaffolding against one of the walls. Beneath it was a pile of brick and rubble. That was where I found Felicia.
She was lying on her back, her dress pulled as high as her waist. A piece of her face seemed to be chipped away. There was a hole in her temple that was oozing blood. She stared up at me and beyond with eyes that were dead. The package was gone. All I could do was curse.
The double-crossing bitch. I was tempted to pump a couple of bullets into her myself.
Instead I turned and raced across the open stretch, looking for the way out that Duke had taken. A woman let out a shrill scream just above my head. I saw her leaning out a window, staring over at the pile of rubble. Then I was aware of more screaming. It had been going on for quite a while-There were women in other windows. I was surrounded by a chorus of harpies.
I ran toward an archway which opened into one of the buildings. It had to lead out of this place.
I was almost there when I heard a shout across the courtyard. A fat cop had come through the passageway, and he was standing beside Felicia, waving his gun at me.
It went off and I ducked instinctively.
My arm jerked like someone had twisted it out of the socket, then I felt the bullet eating at my flesh like a white-hot flame. I shoved my back against the wall, raised the automatic, and squeezed off two shots.
They both went wild, but the cop dove for the ground. That gave me time to get through the archway.
I looked down at my arm as I ran. The numbness was going away and the pain reached down to my guts. I had come to the door that led to the sidewalk. Before I stepped out I took off the coat and draped it over my shoulder. I turned the sleeve to hide most of the blood--
There were sirens in the distance.
I cut through a side street to Miguel Aleman and made it back to my hotel room.
First thing I did was to strip out of my shirt and wash the blood away from my arm. There was a jagged tear across the bicep where the bullet had passed through. There was a lot of ache, but the bone didn't seem to be broken.
I ripped up the shirt and tied a tourniquet to stop the flow of blood. Then I cleaned up the mess in the bathroom. I put on a clean shirt, draped another jacket over my shoulder, and snapped the suitcase shut.
I had the bloody jacket and shirt rolled up in a bundle. On the street I looked for a trash can. I finally settled for throwing the bundle on the floor of the car. I wheeled the Karmann Ghia away from the curb and turned east along the boulevard.
They would have road blocks up by now. But I wasn't going to leave town for a couple of days. I had to let things cool down, and I had to get the arm fixed. The best time for that was after dark.
My first stop was a liquor store. I bought a full quart of stateside bourbon, then cruised over to Cuauhtemoc, where there were a number of second rate motels. Maybe half the tourist trade was American, so I wouldn't look out of the way.
I kept the jacket over my arm when I went in the small office to register. The sleepy clerk paid no attention to me at all. He hardly opened his eyes.
I paid for two days and took the key to number 10. I parked in the slot beside the unit and carried the suitcase inside. Then I went back and got the bundle of bloody clothes. I still had the damned things to dispose of. It would be crazy to leave them lying in the car.
I took off my shirt and washed the dust from my face. Then I removed the bandage, which started a small trickle of blood. Opening the bourbon, I splashed some of it on the wound. It was the only antiseptic I had.
And it burned like hell.
Opening the bundle, I tore off another strip of shirt and made a clean bandage. Then I took a slug of whiskey and stretched out on the bed.
I lay there, nipping from the bottle, waiting for dark. For nearly an hour I dozed off. There was still a little sunlight filtering through the window. I took another drink of bourbon and tried to sleep some more. But the throbbing in the arm was too much.
I lay there gritting my teeth until night had fallen outside. A red and green neon sign began blinking against the drapes of my window.
I got to thinking about Duke.
He would be headed for the states by now, with the package of jewels. The jackpot. No cop had seen him at the scene of the crime. He didn't have a shot-up arm. He was a mile ahead of me in every department.
All I could do was lie there and curse my luck.
But I was going to make it, one way or another. I had to, just for the satisfaction of getting Duke. He still didn't know I was alive. That was one thing in my favor. I wondered what he thought about Felicia swiping the package under his nose. He'd have a hard time figuring that one out.
I had a feeling that once he got back to the states he would head for Nashville. After all, he thought he'd gotten away clean. He thought Chris and I were on the bottom of the Pacific Ocean, feeding the fishes.
And Duke had always talked about Nashville. I got the idea he had a few buddies in his home town he would like to make an impression on, by showing off his money-Duke was that kind of a guy.
And that just might be a point in my favor. Anyhow, I was heading for Nashville as soon as the arm healed enough to permit the long ride.
I rolled over on the bed and a pain shot up my arm like a jolt of electricity. I managed to get onto my feet. Beads of sweat began rolling down my face. I lit a cigarette, then took a good belt from the bottle.
I hadn't eaten in a hell of a long time, and it was beginning to tell on me. I needed food almost as bad as I needed a doctor. What I really needed was a couple of breaks until I got out of Acapulco.
Before I went out to the car, I tightened the tourniquet around my arm. I gathered the bundle of bloody clothes and went outside.
There was a cool breeze coming off the harbor. I could even smell the freshness of ocean air, despite the neighborhood odors of garlic and sewers and garbage.
At the second corner I spotted a trash can and deposited the bundle. Then I cruised along Cuauhtemoc Avenue until I found a small grocery store. There were all kinds of things on the shelves that didn't look appetizing, like canned squid and iguana. I bought a couple of cans of beans, some peaches and a loaf of bread. I'd need a can opener. I found that in a little bin beside the mousetrap.
I wasn't about to buy any fresh food now. A case of Montezuma's revenge would be about all the misery I could handle, on top of the busted arm.
Back in the car again, I drove along slowly, watching signs on the doors of the clustered houses.
In the third block I found what I wanted. MEDICO. Dr. James Olivar. It was a small sign on a post in the front yard of a wooden house.
I kept driving for another block before I pulled into an empty space at the curb. I didn't want anyone to connect the Karmann Ghia with the doctor's office. Getting a doctor to sew up a bullet wound was going to be trouble enough.
I walked back casually, making sure nobody was watching when I entered. I pushed right through the door without knocking. That caused a bell to ring above my head.
The doctor came from a room in the back, scowling. He was short and round, with a fat Mexican face, puffy eyes, and the inevitable mustache.
"Que quieres?" he demanded.
I grinned at him, then pulled the jacket off my arm. His eyes grew suspicious as he fingered the tourniquet. He frowned and shook his head. I could see the thought going through his head as he put two and two together.
I didn't have time to argue. My hand had been on the automatic in my coat pocket. I pulled it out and touched his belly lightly with the barrel.
I felt him beginning to shake. He took a step back and knocked a vase off a small table. I could see the sweat popping out on his face. He nodded almost agreeably and led me into the small room he used for an office.
It looked clean enough. I figured I had a fair chance of surviving a minor operation.
He drew up two chairs beside a small table of instruments. Before I sat down, I removed the shirt carefully, slowly, keeping the automatic always aimed at a vulnerable spot on the doctor's bulky body.
He turned his back on me for a moment to wash his hands at a small sink. Then he sat down and removed the bandage. His face was impassive now.
He swabbed the ragged cut with something on a ball of cotton that stung like salt. Then he clamped the loose skin together and threaded a needle. He wasn't trying to make it easy for me, because he wasn't using any local anesthetic. I wouldn't have let him anyhow. He was just aching for a chance to get the jump on me and turn me over to the police.
I was sure he had heard about the shoot-up near the Post Office. It was probably the talk of the town.
I clamped my teeth together when he started using the needle and thread. He wasn't a very good surgeon with those fat, clumsy fingers. After he had snipped away the excess thread, he swabbed again and taped on a bandage.
I stood up. As I put on the shirt, I shifted the gun from one hand to the other. He kept watching, still sitting on the metal chair. There was an instant when I juggled the gun, catching my finger in the trigger guard.
That was when he made his move.
He jumped up suddenly, and I saw the glint of surgical steel in his hand. It was aimed at my guts. But he was too slow on his feet.
I darted to the side, brought my foot up, felt it bury into his crotch. He doubled over with a groan.
The butt of the automatic cracked against the back of his skull, and he sagged to the floor. When I leaned down, I could hear him still breathing. But it had been a solid blow, and he would be out for a while.
I hadn't heard anyone else in the house, but I went from room to room just to check. There was a cat asleep on the kitchen floor. That's all I found.
My arm was sore, but it was already feeling better. I figured I was well enough to travel. Unless I killed the doc, I knew I had to get out of town fast. By now the local police might have given up on the idea of catching anyone at a road block. They might not even have organized one. Sometimes they don't operate the way they do in the states.
When I went back to the office, the doctor was still stretched out on the floor. I ripped off a long strip of tape from a wide roll, pushed him over onto his stomach, and taped his wrists together. Then I taped his mouth and tied his feet with a long piece of rubber hose.
There was no more blood oozing through the bandage, so I put on the jacket. I watched out the front door for nearly a minute before I left. Then I was in the car, headed back for the motel. I loaded up the suitcase and pulled outI left Cuauhtemoc and rode over to Miguel Aleman. At the Diana Circle I turned onto Highway 95 and headed for Mexico City.
It was going to be a long all-night drive, but with a little luck and the help of the bourbon I figured I could be there before someone came and found Dr. Olivar lying on the floor of his office.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The sun was just rising over the far mountains when I finally topped the last hill and rolled down into the long valley where Mexico City lay sprawling like a huge patchwork of browns and dusty greens.
I was bone tired. I had managed to stay awake and not roll into a canyon on the way, but I'd had to stop a dozen times for coffee. I was ready for sleep, now that I had made it to safety. There was no way now they could trace me back to the mess I'd left behind in Acapulco.
At least not for a few days. And by then I planned to be back in the states for good-After I had driven past the jagged black rocks of El Pedregal, beyond the University of Mexico, I started looking for a motel. I stopped at a small one, El Emporio. I signed in at the office, paid and got my key.
As soon as I was inside the unit, I locked the door. I stripped down, took a quick shower, then swallowed a couple of belts from the bottle. All at once I came unwound. I fell across the bed, and I don't even remember closing my eyes.
I slept until late afternoon. It was all the sleep I needed, because when I came to I was wide awake. I lit a cigarette and paced the room, feeling the restlessness building up inside me again. I had to move on.
I took another shower because I had been sweating while I slept. I wrapped a towel around the arm to keep the bandage dry. Then I dressed and started the car again. I drove until I came to a good restaurant on Insurgentes where they grilled steaks on a big brazier you could see in the front window. At night it made quite a flame.
I had steak with all the trimmings. It was the first real meal I'd eaten in a couple of days. After a third cup of coffee, I was ready to travel.
On Insurgentes Norte I pulled into a Pemex station for gasoline. I got out to stretch and smoke a cigarette while a half dozen kids swarmed over the car with wet rags, washing everything in sight, working for a tip.
"Headed north, amigo?"
I turned around at the sound of the girl's voice that had a kind of soft Texas drawl. She was dressed in blue jeans and a dirty gray pullover shirt. She wore a pair of straw sandals and she carried an old army duffle bag.
When she came up real close I caught a whiff of her. She smelled downright earthy. And that was a shame, because she was a nice looking little dame, if you washed away some of the grime and combed the tangles out of her auburn hair. A little paint might even have made her beautiful.
I pegged her for a beatnik type right away, and I wondered how she had strayed so far away from her usual stomping grounds, like Berkley or The Village.
"You must be headed north," she said, not waiting for me to answer. "That's the way your car's facing."
I gave her a smile.
"You on the ass?"
"You might say that." She pushed back a lock of hair and scratched her head. "I was down here studying the local arts and crafts. Someone busted into my room and stole all my money. So I got to head back to the states before I starve to death. If I'm going to starve, I'd rather do it where I speak the language."
"You're going all the way back to the states?"
"I'm hoping to-"
"Throw your stuff in," I said on an impulse.
I had an idea that she might just come in handy when I went across the border. If anyone there was looking for someone to peg the killing in Acapulco on, they'd be less-likely to pick a man and his wife.
She didn't look like anybody's wife yet. But that could be remedied.
"Thanks, amigo."
She opened the door on the opposite side and threw the duffle bag behind the seat. I paid for the gas and we drove off into the night. I'd only gone a block when I had to roll down the window. That unwashed artist smell got pretty strong. She was going to require a hell of a scrubbing.
"How about a cigarette?" she asked, turning in the seat.
I fished in the jacket pocket with my good arm and handed her the pack. The match flared up in the car as she lit a smoke for herself and one for me.
"What's your name?" she asked.
"Hank," I replied. "Yours?"
"WilmaBut call me Billie. I answer to that name better, especially when it's spoken soft and low."
"So you came down to Mexico and went bust?"
"I'd saved up a few hundred dollars and quit a job in the states, for a taste of the bohemian life." Billie puffed on the cigarette. "Had a nice pad in San Angel. My money would have held out for a couple of months, and you know they have this market every Saturday where you sell paintings. I'd managed a couple of sales. I just might have made it, if I hadn't been robbed."
"You completely busted?"
"I've got three dollars and twenty cents in my kick. You can figure how long that will last"
"Have you eaten lately?" I asked.
"Nothing very solid. Coffee and doughnuts. You know that sweet bread they sell." She laid a hand on my shoulder. "You going to treat me to a meal?"
"I'll do better than that, maybe "
"What's the catch?"
"No catch." I grinned at her. 'When I travel I like to put on a respectable appearance. like a solid citizen and his wife on vacation."
"Sounds like bull to me."
"Okay. I won't go into an explanation. Just say I'll take care of you if you play it my way."
"I'm game for anything, Hank." She gave a throaty laugh. "So long as it isn't too moral."
"Nothing moral about my plans for you."
"Whoopeee. Let's have fun then. I'm glad I ran onto you, Hank. We ought to have a swinging time."
"We should at that."
For the first two hours we sailed right along on the toll road. Soon we were passing through San Juan del Rio, a clean little town, as Mexican towns go. There was a sidewalk bazaar open next to a cafe. I wheeled off the highway and parked facing a low arcade.
"Why are we stopping?" Billie asked. 'Thought you were hungry."
"I'm starved."
She shoved open the door and slid out I caught a glimpse of a solid rump encased in tight blue jeans. She had the kind of trim figure that makes a man take notice.
The cafe turned out to be half cantina. A big door opening off the sidewalk led to the bar, where a band of mariachis were playing and singing. On the walk under the arcade were a dozen tables covered with red and white checkered cloths. In the window, a lamb was turning on a spit. Spicy smoke hung like a low cloud over everything.
When I pulled out the chair to sit down, I used the wrong arm and felt a sharp stab of pain. But the wound was healing fast, because I had already begun to forget to be careful. A couple more nights of sleep, and I'd be as good as new.
A waiter in a greasy apron brought us two dog-eared menus. Billie picked her nose as she studied the bill of fare. She had really gone all out playing the part of the beatnik artist. She looked over at me and sniffed.
"Can I order anything"
"Anything you want"
"I'll take the biggest steak in the house and loads of French fries."
The waiter nodded and scribbled on his pad. I settled for a bottle of beer, since it had been only three hours ago that I had eaten. It was a sight to see her put away a big side of meat and all the trimmings. When she finally pushed away the plate, I walked her down to the bazaar.
"We're going to buy you some clothes."
"Is that part of the game we're playing?"
"I want to make a respectable woman out of you."
"You don't really have much to work with, Hank. But help yourself."
I picked out a couple of dresses that weren't too gaudy. There was no place for Billie to try them on, but she held them up to her figure and decided they would fit. She didn't seem too enthusiastic. I figured she would rather look like a beatnik in the blue jeans.
But I was calling the tune.
I paid for everything and we climbed back in the car. For a while we drove in silence, then Billie slid over and leaned her head on my shoulder. She stared up at me through the tangled locks of her hair. The light from the dash fell on her face. It was a good face. All it needed was soap and water.
"What are you doing down here in Mexico, Hank?" she asked curiously.
"Traveling."
"On vacation?"
"Yeah. On vacation. Headed back home now."
"Where is home."
"Nashville," I lied.
It was as good a place as any to call home. I'd never been to Nashville, but I was planning to check that town over pretty thoroughly.
"You going to take me all the way to Nashville with you?"
"I might."
"You don't mind if I lean on you this way, do you, Hank?"
"Why should I mind?"
"I'll tell you a secret. I'm glad you came along. I was scared silly back there. It's no joke to be in a strange country with three dollars in your kick."
"So you're not as tough as you put on."
"I'm a panty-waist."
"I just about figured that."
She sighed and snuggled closer. I felt her fingers walking up my arm. She found a place and set the nails, clutching me in a kind of desperation.
"I feel safe with you, Hank. If I get back to the states, I don't think I'll come back to Mexico alone. It's not what it's cracked up to be"
"You're really letting your hair down, aren't you?"
"It's because I feel so good, after a big meal. A handsome man beside me, protecting me." She yawned. "Do you mind if I go to sleep?"
"Help yourself."
"Thanks. I believe I will."
It took her about thirty seconds to start snoring softly. She felt pretty good lying there, her firm little body pressed against me. I was glad I'd picked her up. This was going to work out better than I had hoped for.
I drove for about an hour through the night, taking it easy, because there were a few chuck holes in the highway. And ever so often you'd meet a big transport truck that tried to take all the road. There was one that was traveling without any headlights.
You take your life in your hands, traveling a-long a Mexican highway after dark.
When we came to Queretaro, I pulled up at a motel beside the highway. It took a minute to get Billie awake after I drove up to the unit with the key. I took her inside, then went back to the car for the suitcase and duffle bag. When I returned, she had stripped down and crawled into bed.
"Oh, no you don't-" I muttered. "You're taking a bath before I let you sleep."
I flipped back the covers and stared down at her naked body. Her flesh was pale with a slight pink flush. She had flaring hips and round, firm breasts. One leg was crossed over the other, and she had her arm above her head, shielding her eyes from the light.
I caught her wrist and gave her a yank.
"Hank, no-" she murmured sleepily. "Leave me alone."
I could see it was going to take some force. While she continued to nap, I stripped out of my clothes. Then I went to the shower and got the water running at just the right temperature.
I figured I could handle her if she didn't put up too much of a struggle, even with one bad arm. I caught her around the waist and lifted her up. She was lighter than I had expected. I carried her, kicking and squalling, into the shower stall.
She caught her breath when the water splashed full on her face. I put her down and grabbed the bar of soap. She gave up and stood submissively while I lathered her good.
She leaned against me and sighed, then turned away and shoved her rump against my legs as I massaged her breasts. In a minute she begun to smell sweet from the soap.
I shoved her head under the spray and scrubbed. Water trickled down her face.
"You're a meanie, Hank," she sputtered.
She turned to face me, and her eyes were bright. Then she noticed the bandage.
"What happened to your arm? You've got the bandage all wet. I'll have to change it for you"
"Later," I said.
"What happened?"
"Had a little acicdent with a piece of glass. Her eyes were suspicious, but she did not reply. Instead, she moved against me, winding her dripping arms around my neck. I felt the flushed warmth of her body as I grasped her waist with both hands.
A rivulet of water was pouring from the point of each of her breasts. It was warm in the shower, and I felt as if we were both melting and flowing together. It was a hell of a fine feeling. I let my hands wander as we kissed.
Finally we shut off the water and dried each other off with big bath towelsHer skin flushed a deep pink as I rubbed it. I felt her shivering when I carried her to the bed.
"This is so nice, Hank," she murmured.
She shaped her fresh young lips for kissing. Her mouth opened against mine, her tongue shot between my lips. A gasp burst from her throat when I took hold of a breast and began to tease the nipple.
The sheets were cool, but her body was warm from the shower. Her hair was still wet, making the pillow damp, but neither of us cared about that. As I lowered my head, she held a breast in each hand and pushed them up for me to kiss. I closed my mouth over a trembling cone.
Billie whimpered.
She released the breast and caught the back of my head, shoving my face into the creamy softness.
It was pretty wild for both of us. I felt her heart throbbing, and I felt her whole body shivering against my lips as I caressed the swelling mound.
Catching hold of the nipple, I drew it out, increasing the hardness. Billie let out a piercing wail. Her body writhed beneath me.
After that night in Queretaro I began to heal fast. It must have been a combination of rest, when I was able to get it, and good companionship. Billie made a first rate companion. I enjoyed her company across the long trip from Mexico City to the border.
We crossed at Laredo without any trouble. By then she was wearing one of the dresses instead of the blue jeans, and looking like a very sweet little housewife.
Only in bed did the unwashed artist in her come out. But it came out in such a way that I had
CHAPTER TWELVE
I moved above her then, clasping her compact little hips. We wound together. Uttering a startled cry, she clung to me convulsively, digging her nails across my back. We moved together, swaying with the frenzy of our excitement.
"Oh, Hank," she cried. "I love it-"
I tightened my grip around her waist and lifted her up to me. I saw her head wallowing on the pillow, tossing from side to. side, her eyes wandering aimlessly. Her mouth was open, gasping. Then I felt her shudder.
An electric spark danced along my spine. I felt myself lifting up, tilting, floating in space without support. We soared up to the summit together, while I squeezed my arms around her and she thrust wildly against me ... no complaints.
I had intended to dump Billie in Texas, but by the time we got there I had changed my mind. She was beginning to grow on me in a lot of ways. I'm always better tied up with a female. It just seems more natural than traveling alone. And besides, she could still be useful to me in providing a front.
I'd raised a mustache, which I kept bleached as white as my hair. Maybe Duke wouldn't recognize me for the disguise, but he'd look even less intently at me if he found me with a woman. I didn't expect to come face to face with him, of course. But accidents do happen.
I took my time driving across Texas and Arkansas on my way to Tennessee. I wanted the arm to be well healed by the time I had the showdown with Duke.
We spent a pleasant week's vacation first at one spot then another. It was almost like a honeymoon. Billie was the kind of gal who grew on you with age.
There's a town called Fairview, just a few miles from Nashville. I put Billie in a motel there and paid the tab for a week in advance. I'd decided to keep her out of it after all. There was money involved, and the memory of Felicia's double-cross was still fresh in my mind--
With Billie stashed away in the motel, I drove on in to Nashville. My first stop was a bar at the edge of town. I ordered a bourbon and water and carried it back to the phone booth in the corner.
There was a string of twenty "Bevins' listed in the phone book. I didn't expect Duke to have a phone already, but I thought I might be able to turn something up. I had to start looking for him somewhere.
I had five dimes in my pocket. When I had gone through them, I went up to the bar and got a dollar's worth. The first ten numbers I called, nobody had heard of Duke. On the eleventh I got a different reaction.
"Let me speak to Duke," I said.
"He ain't here. Who is this?"
I leaned forward and looked at the number I had called. Bevin's Trucking Company. Of course. Duke had been a truck driver as well as a bulldozer operator. So some of his relatives owned a truck line.
"When will he be in?"
"I ain't expecting him."
"Tell me where I can find him."
"Who is this?"
"A friend."
"Give me a name", said the voice gruffly. I picked a name out of the air. "Pete Stowell."
The man at the other end of the line grunted. He thought for a moment before he spoke.
"I'll tell Duke you called."
"Tell me where I can find him," I insisted.
"I don't figure it's any of your business, buddy," said the gruff voice. "I'll tell Duke. If he wants to talk to you, he'll get in touch."
"I'm just passing through town, and I wanted to see Duke," I said, trying to sound reasonable. "He won't know where to get in touch. If you'll just tell me how to reach him."
"How come you know Duke?" the man asked suspiciously.
"I worked with him building a dam in Central America. He'd be glad to see me."
"Give me a phone number."
It was useless to argue. I gave him the number of the pay phone I was calling from, though I didn't expect to be there when Duke called.
"I'll give him the message," the man said. "What did you say the name was?"
I had to think for a second what name I'd given.
"Pete Stowell"
"I got it-"
The man hung up.
I sat for a minute chewing my lip. Then I slid the rest of the dimes into my palm and shoved them in my pocket. I took out a ballpoint and wrote down the address of Bevin's Trucking Company. It was on West Charlotte Avenue.
I finished the drink and put the empty glass on the bar on my way out. Just for assurance, I reached down and felt the bulge of the automatic in my coat pocket.
I drove on a couple of blocks and stopped at a service station to pick up a road map. Charlotte Avenue was easy to find. It ran right through the center of the city. I cruised along until I saw the trucking company. A big empty yard surrounded by a wire fence. There were a couple of trailers in the back, and a block office at the front gate beside the sidewalk.
Across the street was a restaurant with a counter that curved around by the front door. I took the front seat, where I could watch the office. Don't ask me what I was doing there. I was just playing it by ear.
I ordered coffee and a piece of apple pie from the sleepy-eyed waitress. I was the only customer in the place. After she had served me, she leaned against the counter and watched me eat while she popped her gum.
The window of the trucking office was too dirty to see much. Now and then a big guy in a sport shirt would lean in the door and look out at traffic. He had the same kind of burly, muscle-bound build as Duke. I figured they would be brothers.
On the other side of the fence, a kid of about fourteen was working on a bicycle. He had it turned upside down, propped on the seat and handlebars, and he was oiling the wheels.
After a while, the man called him into the office. The kid came across the street, dodging cars. He came right into the restaurant.
"Two cigars," he said, laying a quarter on the counter.
"White Owls?" asked the waitress absently as she picked them out of the box. I motioned to the boy, smiling. "You must be Duke Bevin's brother."
"No sir, he's my uncle"
"You favor him quite a bit."
"Yes sir, that's what they say"
"Maybe you know how I can get in touch with Duke. I'm just in town for a few hours, but I'd like to look him up for old times-"
"Did you know him in the army?"
"No. We worked together in Central America. Building a dam. I suppose he's told you about it."
The kid grinned. He was tall and gangly now, but give him a few years and he would be as beefy as Duke himself. He wasn't like Duke in one way. He was kind of shy.
"Yes, sir. Uncle Duke told me all about Central America. He brought me a hat back from Mexico. You oughta see it. A great big sombrero."
"I don't have much time to see him, but if you could tell me where to locate him "
"Gee, I don't know," the kid said. "Unless you go to the Embers Bar. He's got a girl friend that works there."
"The Embers? Thanks, kid."
"Don't mention it. I hope you find him."
"I do too, kid."
I watched the kid carry the cigars across the street, then I checked the phone book. The Embers Lounge was on West End Avenue.
The place was dark inside. So dark I had to stop for a minute to adjust my eyes after stepping out of the light of day. There were some small red and amber lights burning from a couple of chandeliers. A low murmur of music drifted from hidden speakers around the walls.
The place had class. Duke was traveling in a new league, since he'd come into all the money. I didn't like the idea that it was my money he was spending.
When I located the bar, I sat down on one of the plush stools. The bartender drifted up. He wore a neat white coat and a red sash wrapped around his waist. I ordered bourbon on the rocks.
The bartender mixed the drink and made change for the twenty I laid on the bar.
"Seen Duke Bevins today?" I asked casually.
"I don't think I know him-"
I slid a five dollar bill across to him. The bartender picked it up, examined it as though he expected it to be counterfeit, then stuck it in his pocket. It didn't seem to have changed his attitude much. He still looked at me with hard eyes and pursed his sour lips-remember him now?" I asked.
"Mr. Bevins. Yes, I know him. But he hasn't been in today."
"When do you expect him?"
"What do you want with him?"
"I thought that five gave me the privilege of asking the questions," I said curtly.
"Mr. Bevins is an important man," said the bartender. "He doesn't like people bothering him."
"He's got you in his side, hasn't he?" I muttered.
I could see Duke had been throwing money around lavishly. He'd bought the loyalty of the bartender. I decided to give up with him. Probably the answers I'd get would be wrong anyhow. I stared into the glass where the ice floated on top of the pool of amber liquid. It was good bourbon. It was the only good thing I would get in this place.
I lifted the glass and drank.
I heard the clink of ice to my left. For the first time I noticed there was a dame sitting two stools down from me. It was that dark in the place that you could be in a crowd and think you were drinking alone.
She was a brunette drinking something that looked milky in a cocktail glass. When she caught my eye, she made a point of letting me see her write something on the inside flap of a book of matches.
I caught a whiff of her perfume as she walked past me and out the door. Then I picked up the match book she had dropped into my lap.
I put a cigarette in my mouth, struck a match so I could see, and read. H you want Duke, phone this number in ten minutes ... 453-1838.
I checked the time by the clock on the wall behind the bar. Ten minutes would give me just time enough for one more drink. I jiggled the ice in the glass and slid it down the bar. This time the bartender got no tip. He wasn't earning it.
When the ten minutes were up, I walked back to the phone booth and dialed the number.
"Hello-"
Her voice dripped with honey and molasses, so soft and full of southern sweetness that it sounded like a whisper of love. It could have been just that.
"You can tell me about Duke Bevins?" I asked.
"How badly do you want to see him?"
"Badly," I said.
"For a friendly reason?"
"I just want him. It's personal."
"Will it be good or bad for Duke?"
I thought for a minute. I couldn't figure whose side she was on yet. But what the hell? I might as well take a chance. If this lead played out, I could find others.
"It won't be good," I muttered.
"Then why don't you come and have a talk with me. I'm at the Belleview Arms, just a few doors down from the bar where I saw you. Apartment 734."
"I'll be right there."
As soon as I went out the door I stood on the sidewalk and looked in both directions. The big sign which said BELLEVIEW ARMS was just a block up the street on my side. I decided to leave the car parked and walk.
There was a striped canopy over the entrance, from the curb to the front door. I walked between the two green shrubs in the planters and across the lobby. The doors of one of the self-service elevators were open. I got in and rode up to the seventh floor, then walked along the corridor until I found 734.
As soon as I pushed the buzzer, the door came open. The brunette smiled out at me.
"Come in--"
She had already peeled out of her street clothes, and she was wearing a pale blue negligee through which I could see interesting portions of bare flesh. Almost bare anyhow, except for the gauze-thin covering of cloth.
"You know where Duke Bevins is?" I asked, stepping into the plush living room.
"I could help you find him." She said it softly, shaping an oval with her lips. "If it's really that important."
"It's that important."
"I take it you don't like Duke."
"We won't go into that."
"Don't worry," she said. "I hate the bastard myself. I was married to him once. Any time I can do him harm, I'm ready to lend a hand. What is it you want with him?"
"He's got some money that belongs to me."
"I thought it might be something like that. Duke's a rat. You can't trust him an inch. But I suppose you found that out."
"The hard way," I said. "Where is he now?"
"He just got back in town. I don't know where he's living, but it shouldn't take long to find out."
"You can ask around."
"I can ask around-"
"Start asking."
"Just don't let Duke know how you found you."
"Don't worry."
She walked over to the phone, picked it up, then returned it to the hook. When she turned around to face me, I saw the rise and fall of her breasts like two swelling pillows of flesh. Her eyes were bright. She lifted a long strand of her dark hair and pushed it back from her face.
"On second thought, I'd better collect the reward first," she whispered. Then she licked her lips, leaving them wet and tempting. "You might just dash out and leave me hanging."
"I've got serious business with Duke."
"Sorry. It will have to wait." She slipped her arms around my neck and shoved with her belly. "We might as well get acquainted. I'm Fritzi. And who in the hell are you?"
"Hank."
"Hank." She laughed throatily. "Nice name. Hank.
As she kissed me, squirming with her thighs, I felt the ripple of muscle and flesh, the soft contact of her breasts mashing against my ribs. Her lashes fluttered upon my cheek. Her tongue dipped brazenly into my mouth.
Finally we came up for air, and I examined this lush little doll named Fritzi, wondering how in hell Duke had ever got her to marry him.
She had blue-black hair that was long and wavy with natural curls. She looked great with it swept back from her face. Her eyes were dark with luminous sparks. There was a look of sensual pain on her lips, which were parted slightly, displaying the rim of her teeth.
The blue gown clung tightly to her neat little frame, accenting the curves of her hips and thighs, the fullness of her breasts. The fragrance of her perfume started my head to spinning.
I clasped her around the waist and kissed her again.
Her mouth gaped open against mine. Our tongues mingled fiercely. I moved my hands along her swaying body, stroking her back, pinching her round little rump. She liked that, because she whimpered with delight.
She clawed my back and sank her teeth in my lower lip. It was kind of wild, like wrestling with a mink.
We were writhing and twisting, both of us breathing heavily, when she broke away and stared up at me with wide, dark eyes that were glazed with desire.
"Let's go beddy-bye," she whispered.
"Just what I was thinking-"
She was light when I lifted her up and carried her through the apartment. I had no trouble finding the bedroom, because I have an instinct for those things.
She had already tossed back the covers in anticipation. I put her on her feet and slid the gown over her head. Her nude body came into view suddenly, taking my breath away.
She crossed her arms, clasping her lovely white shoulders, and stood proudly while I looked at her beauty. Slowly she turned, displaying every inch of her body. She pushed her hands up through her long hair and let it fall in a black cascade around her face and neck.
It was quite a sight.
She saw me staring at her breasts, so she cradled them on her hands and offered them to me like twin globes of fruit. They were full, heavy breasts with big pink circles and hard little nipples in the center.
"Don't you want to kiss them?" she whispered. What's a guy to do?
I leaned down, and her hands went around my head. I felt them throbbing against my open mouth as I worked my tongue. I teased the nipples with lips and tongue until she became a squirming bundle of passion.
Finally I pulled away and started tearing at my clothes. I'd played around enough. I snapped a button off my shirt getting it loose. Fritzi stood naked beside the bed, watching me intently, biting her lip with emotion.
Then we were naked together. I pushed her down and lay beside her on the bed. As I held a creamy breast in my hand, cupping and massaging it, her hands began to stroke my face. She was writhing beneath me. My hand crept lower, and she began to moan.
I trembled as I felt the warmth of her body against my palm. Her breath was hissing through her teeth.
When she clamped her arms around my neck and drew me down on her straining body, I fell heavily, making her cry out in sudden, startled delight.
I held her hips in both my hands while she thrust beneath me, arching her body in a rhythm of sensual abandonment. I felt the gentle pressure of her rolling breasts, the clinging tightness of her legs.
As I lunged above her, I explored with my hands, stroking the smoothness of her flesh. I felt the warm curves of her hips, the fullness of her thighs. Impulsively I reached beneath her, caught her buttocks in my hands and squeezed the soft, round globes as I lifted her up.
She began to sob deliriously.
Her head tossed on the pillow, lashing it with long black strands of hair. Her eyes were wide and staring. Her hands were crawling up and down my back like frightened spiders. Her mouth gaped open with a silent cry.
Then she was screaming, while I felt her shudders of passion. She gave a wild cry, clamped her arms and legs tighter. I felt the sudden convulsion tearing my guts apart.
My body stiffened.
Violent shock waves swept over me, scorching my flesh, taking my breath away. Slowly my strength faded away and the rhythm of our bodies came to a stop. For a long time we lay in each other's arms, unable to move.
We must have dozed for half an hour. I was somewhere between waking and sleeping, aware that time was passing. When I finally came back to consciousness, I rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed.
As soon as my legs would hold me, I walked over and took a cigarette from my jacket, which lay on the floor where I had dropped it. I sat on the bed and smoked. Fritzi rolled over with a lazy groan and took the cigarette from my fingers. She puffed twice and handed it back to me.
"I loved that, honey," she whispered. "So glad you could come up and see me."
"You know why I came," I told her. "Let's get busy and locate Duke."
"Okay, honey." She giggled. "Now that I've collected the reward-"
She yawned and snuggled up close to me. Her small hand began to stroke the back of my neck. I stood up before that kind of thing got to me and turned me away from my purpose. The fun was over. It was time to get down to business.
I gathered my clothes into a neat pile, laid them over a chair and began to dress. Fritzi crawled off the bed and slipped into the blue gown. She went into the other room. I heard her dialing the phone, then she was talking to someone.
When I had all my clothes on and my tie straight, I went into the living room. Fritzi was dialing again.
I smoked another cigarette and waited impatiently.
"Hello, George," she said into the phone. "This is Fritzi. Could you tell me how I can find Duke? Just a minute let me get a pencil."
I watched her scribble on a note pad.
"Thanks, George."
She hung up the phone and tore off the top sheet from the pad. I looked at the address she had written. 5604 Pinecrest. I folded the paper and stuck it in my pocket.
"That's Duke's address?"
"That's it."
"Where is Pinecrest?" I asked. "West of town. It's a swanky neighborhood. I wonder how come Duke would be living there."
"Duke always was a big spender," I said casually-
"But he's never had any money." Her eyes narrowed. "He must have struck it rich."
"He came into a little money," I said. "Most of it mine."
"What are you going to do when you find him?"
"That all depends," I said. "Don't tell anyone I'm looking for him. I don't want him spooked. Right now he's a sitting duck."
"I won't tell a soul." Fritzi slid up tight against me and smoothed the lapels of my jacket. "When you pay him off, Hank. Belt him one for me, will you?"
"Yeah," I said. "I'll do that."
She started crawling over me again. I unwound her arms from around my neck, gave her rump a friendly pat, and walked out the door.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
It was five in the afternoon when I left Fritzi's apartment. I had some time to kill, because I didn't want to make any kind of move without the cover of dark. I was still playing it by ear, trying to fashion a plan out of the situation. How I went about it depended a lot on Duke himself.
I tried to decide where he might have the jewels, what he was planning to do with them.
The second question wasn't very hard to answer. Back in Puerto Reyes, when we'd had a lot of time to lie around and speculate about such things, Duke and Chris and I had all discussed the best way to cash in on the jewels.
That was one thing on which we had all agreed.
The jewels might be worth a hundred thousand, if we could find a fence to buy them. To us they would have been practically worthless. Cash you can spend. Jewels, you can't. So a fence was the answer.
I didn't know how long it would take Duke to locate a reliable fence in Nashville, if there were such a thing. He would have to contact someone in the underworld he could trust. Someone who could trust him enough to put him onto a fence. The chances were, he would have to go out of town for the fence.
That was one reason I was anxious to find him and keep a close watch on him. When he made his move, he would have the jewels. That's when he would be most vulnerable. The beauty of it was, I was the only one who knew about the jewels.
Until he contacted the fence, of course.
I walked up the street to where I had left the Karmann Ghia. As I cruised along, I got to thinking about Billie, back at the motel in Fairview. I hoped she would stay put for a while. I didn't want her getting restless and deciding to shove off on her own.
I wanted her there when I was finished with Duke. She had started to grow on me.
I drove without much sense of direction. I was looking for a nice quiet bar and restaurant where I could spend a couple of hours until it grew dark.
I found just the place. For an hour I sat at the bar and drank bourbon on the rocks. Then I went into the dinning room and had a leisurely dinner of prime ribs and baked potato. When I went outside, night had fallen.
I stopped for directions at a service station, then drove out West End Avenue until I found Pine-crest. It was an area of winding streets and big two and three acre lots. Every house was in the thirty thousand dollar bracket or more. The way Duke was throwing it around, he wouldn't have much of our money left in a few more weeks.
5604 was a big two story stucco house set among a cluster of jack pine trees. There seemed to be a single light burning in the front of the house. I drove on by and parked off the road, behind a small clump of bushes that hid the Karmann Ghia from view. I pointed the hood for a fast getaway.
Then I walked back through the big yard. The house stood on the top of a small hill. I had a flashlight and the automatic. The gun was in my hand. This time I wasn't about to let Duke Bevins get the jump on me.
I didn't know if he was home.
I didn't know what I would do yet if he was. I was just nosing around and hoping for a break.
When I reached the side of the house, I looked back down the hill. The street was deserted There was very little traffic in this part of town. I walked around the back of the house. The garage was empty.
The only light was burning in the living room. I could see into it through a split in the drapes. I stood for five minutes looking in and listening. I didn't hear a thing, and nothing moved in the room.
I went to the front door, pushed the buzzer, and darted into the shadows.
I stood there for a minute, but nothing happened. I went back to the door and tried it. Locked. I walked around the house then, trying the side door and the one in back. Everything was locked up tight.
I punched a hole through a screen over one of the windows in back with my pocket knife. I slipped a finger inside the screen and loosened the hook. Then I took the screen down and leaned it against the side of the house.
The window wasn't locked inside. I slid it up and crawled through. I was in a kind of pantry. So far the only noise I had made had been sliding the window up. But if there was anybody home,, they would have come to the door when I buzzed.
I pushed open the pantry door and walked through the kitchen. A lamp was burning beside an easy chair in the living room. I stood in one corner of the room and looked it over carefully, trying to figure out where Duke might have hidden the jewels--
First I walked over to the small bookcase and looked behind it. I pulled each book out, one at a time and flipped through the pages. Duke had just enough imagination to cut out a hiding place in a
; book. But I went through the shelves and found nothing.
That was too obvious for even Duke. He'd found a better place to hide them.
I dug around in the tobacco in a big ceramic canister. No jewels there. I pulled up the cushions on the easy chair and the sofa. I checked behind every picture. Finally I decided they weren't in the living room.
I snapped on the flashlight and climbed upstairs. It was easy enough to find Duke's bedroom. It was a mess, just like his quarters had been back in Puerto Reyes. I switched off the flashlight until I had closed all the drapes. Then I snapped it back on again.
His suitcase was open on the floor. He was still living out of it. I dug through the clothes, then checked the lining. That's where I had found some of his money, and that is probably why I didn't find the jewels.
I went over the bedroom carefully. There was nothing in the pillows, nothing under the mattress. I was checking through the closet when I heard a car pull up outside.
I switched off the flash.
Then I ran down the hall to the head of the stairs. I moved into a room which Duke wasn't using. I left the door slightly open, so I could see down the stairs without being seen.
A key grated in the lock.
Duke came in the front door alone. He looked as big and burly as he always had. I half expected him to be carrying the package with the jewels, but his hands were empty. I had a gun in my hand, and that made me feel pretty damned good.
This was just the way I wanted Duke, easy and unsuspecting. Except that I couldn't play my hand until I knew where the jewels were. I had to wait and hold on tight.
A light switched on in the hallway. I saw his shadow cast across the floor. Then I heard the clutter of the telephone, and Duke was dialing a number.
I held my breath.
I heard the hollow, cracking sound of the bell ringing on the far end of the line. Then Duke grunted.
"Stegner? This is Bevins." There was a moment of silence. "You just got in town? Okay. You know my address. Come on out. I'll be waiting."
There was more silence, then the crackle of a voice on the phone. The house was so still I could almost hear what the man was saying.
"Of course I've got them," Duke muttered. "You make sure you've got the money."
The man named Stegner said something and Duke hung up. I stayed in the door, watching through the crack. Duke walked into the kitchen. I heard him going through drawers. Then he came back to the hall. He had a small crowbar.
There was a wooden post at the foot of the stair railing. Duke shoved the crowbar under the round top of the post and pried up. He got the top loose and reached down into the hollow center of the post.
When he pulled his hand out, he had a cloth sack about the size and shape of the tiara. He put the top back on the post and carried the crowbar to the kitchen.
Then he waited in the living room for the man to arrive. I heard a car pull into the drive, saw the flash of headlights across the front windows downstairs. I smiled grimly. All I had to do was wait and listen and pick the right time to make my move.
The buzzer sounded, and Duke went to the front door. I saw the man come in, but I didn't get a look at his face. They stood for a moment in the hallway, talking in low whispers, then they went into the living room.
There was more talk, above the clink of glasses. I heard a sound like someone riffling money. That would be Duke counting the cash. I wondered what price he had settled on for the jewels. Knowing Duke, he'd made a good bargain. I was glad he had handled that part of it for me.
The two men talked some more, finally set down their glasses and came to the front door. Duke actually shook the man's hand. He was feeling pretty good about the money.
He didn't know it belonged to me.
T waited for a couple of minutes after the man had driven away. Duke was in the living room, counting out his wealth. I could hear his grunts of satisfaction as he shuffled through the bills. He was probably counting every one, just for the joy of it. I could hear a light thump each time his fingers hit the table top.
I figured he was too engrossed to hear me coming down the stairs, even though they creaked a little. I walked into the living room, the automatic in my hand.
Duke was seated before a card table, which was covered with stacks of green bills. When he saw me, his hands stopped in mid-air. A stack of money was frozen in his fingers. His mouth came open with a sigh. A muffled sound of pain. The cigar fell from his thick lips.
"How much did we make on the jewels, Duke?" I asked.
"Who are you?"
His voice sounded like the dull croaking of a frog. I moved into the light to give him a better look at me. He squinted. His mouth was still open. He exhaled, and it came out a gasp. Then he shook his head in disbelief.
"Color my hair a dark brown, Duke. Shave off the mustache. Put a knot on my head where you slugged me and what have you got?"
"You're dead--"
He still couldn't believe it.
"Sorry about that, Duke. I stayed alive just so I could come back and haunt you."
Duke kept shaking his head. His face was a pasty white.
"The boat burned."
"You burned it, but I got over the side."
"I can't believe it."
"You thought you'd gotten away clean, didn't you, old pal? Old buddy. But I've been tailing you since Acapulco. I almost got the jewels then."
"That girl-"
"She was double-crossing me too," I muttered. "It's a hell of a world. Who can you trust?"
"Look, Hank-" Duke was beginning to get a little color back in his face. 'There's plenty here for both of us. I got a good deal on the jewels. Eighty-five thousand."
"You're a piker," I said. "They were worth a hundred. And how about that ten thousand of mine? And how about that five-thousand dollar cruiser you burned down to hide the bodies? I had a share of that too."
"Forty thousand apiece," Duke said, his voice rambling like a man in a trance. "I'll give you the extra five. For you, forty-five thousand."
"You're dreaming, Duke. I'm taking it all. If you're lucky you may still be alive when it's all over. If I had you in Puerto Reeys, I could get away with murder. Here, it isn't so easy. I don't like risks."
"Listen, Hank. Be reasonable-"
"Sure. I'll be reasonable. I'll give you five minutes to gather the money up neatly and put it in something I can use for carrying."
"You can't have it all-"
His voice was a sudden cry of desperation. A geyser of money shot into the air as Duke came up with the table. There was an instant when I couldn't see Duke, and in that instant he was on me. The breath went out of me as his head drilled into my gut.
We went rolling on the floor.
The automatic clattered away. I was down on one knee, looking for it, trying to get set for Duke's rush. Then I had to forget the gun. Duke came at me like an enraged bull, his arms swinging wildly.
The hard club of a fist cracked against my skull, and for a moment my head felt as though it wasn't there. My brain was soggy, and it was filled with bells, ringing like hell.
I remembered coming awake in the silent boat, stumbling over Chris's body, staggering over the side in a whoosh of flames and panic drew like a knot in my chest. I wasn't going to let Duke win again.
In a sudden blind fury, I rushed at him. My fist glanced off his jaw, then I threw a left into his belly. Duke threw a punch that exploded in my face, stunning me for an instant. But I kept after him. There was thick blood in my mouth, flooding out through my lips.
I wanted to kill him. I had the chance, and it might be the only chance I would ever have.
This time when Duke rushed me, I stepped to the side and brought my foot up from the floor. It was a lucky kick. The toe of my shoe cracked against Duke's ribs. He screamed with pain. He was on both knees, groping for me. I kicked again, nearly tearing his head from his neck.
He went over in a heap.
But I wasn't finished yet. I smashed his face with a right and a left and a right. I kept smashing until he was no longer conscious, until his face didn't look like a face at all, but a ripe tomato someone had stepped on.
That's when I finally stopped.
I crawled around the room looking for the automatic and found it against the wall near the fireplace. I stayed on my knees gathering money. It took me half an hour to get every last bill picked up and put into packs. I wasn't going to leave Duke a nickel of it.
I found a stack of envelopes on the writing table, and I filled each one with money. I had twenty envelopes in all, which I dropped into a pillow case I swiped from an upstairs bed.
Duke was still out, but he was beginning to moan. He'd have a lot to moan about when he finally came to. By then I planned to be long gone. I didn't even tell him goodbye as I went out the door and walked across the yard to where I had parked the Karmann Ghia.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It was after midnight when I arrived in Fair-view and drove to the motel. Billie was awake, watching the late-late show. She looked soft and tempting, lying there with nothing on but one of my big, sloppy T-shirts.
"What's happened to your face?" she asked, rolling off the bed. "You've been in a fight."
"Ran into that mug I was looking for."
I opened my suitcase and dropped in the pillow case with all the money. Then I went to the bathroom and began washing up and peeling away the dried flakes of blood. Billie came in to help me.
I saw her legs, bare beneath the bottom of the T-shirt, as I leaned over the wash bowl. She unbuttoned my shirt and took it off of me I took care of my fat lip, then I stripped down and took a hot shower.
Billie had the covers thrown back on the bed. I toweled off and fell onto the matress, face down. For ten minutes she gave me a rub-down, working the kinks out of my shoulders .It felt great.
Finally I rolled over, feeling lazy and contented. Billie slid the T-shirt over her head and we were lying together, mother-naked. Her hands began to explore, and mine did too. Two minds with but a single thought.
I'm glad you came back to me, Hank," she whispered.
"Glad to be back," I replied.
"I was afraid for a while that you had dumped me."
"Not on your life. I've got plans for you."
"What kind of plans?"
"You just come a little closer, I'll give you a demonstration."
"All rightee-" And then she giggled. "Oh, that's what you mean? You wicked man."
"Sorry-"
"Oh, don't stop," she gasped. I moved my hand from one breast to the other. Billie rolled over and raised her shoulders, shoving the soft pillow against my cupped fingers. She was a very helpful girl. I squeezed the warm, satiny flesh.
She whimpered.
Running my hand across her body, I caressed her belly, then her hips. She squirmed and dug her fingers into my shoulders. I felt her quivering under my touch.
"Don't ever stop-" she whispered.
Pressing tightly against me, she kissed my face and neck, then dipped the point of her tongue into my ear. It was a dandy sensation that left me trembling all over.
My lips were still sore where Duke had busted me. She was very tender, licking them gently. I had both her breasts in my hands, squeezing them, toying with the hardened nipples.
Billie gave a cry of delight. Her head rolled back, bearing her pale, lovely throat. Her auburn hair was fluffed around her face. Her eyes were tiny slits behind dark lashes.
Clinging to my neck, she wriggled her body, moving to the center of the bed. I was poised above her. We moved at the same instant and fused together. She uttered a gurgling cry and leaped up to meet me.
The tempo started slow and grew faster. Together we writhed and tossed, building to the inevitable conclusion. I shoved her hard against the bed while her eyes stared at me wildly. We were soaring together, lifting higher and higher. And then we were there at the same instant in time and space.
Our bodies tensed, throbbing, as wave after wave of warmth and electric excitement washed over us, leaving us weak and spent and happy to be in each other's arms.
