Microsoft Word - Rogers, Rosemary - The Crowd Pleasers (40 page)

"executed" in place of her. Had she really turned to Webb for protection? Thought he was protection? What did he mean when he'd talked about learning to kill without leaving traces? God, she must be going crazy!

Webb set a glass down on the table beside her. He sat on the bed, the liquid in the glass he held as amber as his eyes. Only she couldn't see through his eyes into what he was thinking.

"All right, Annie," She wished he wouldn't keep calling her thatl "Why don't you just start at the beginning? The story about the tapes Carol and I used to make. Who told you that? Caro baby herself, or your friend Harris?"

So he wasn't denying it! It made her feel sick all over again, arming her against him.

Boldly, she took a sip of the drink he had fixed her. She looked back at him and tried to let the disgust she felt for him show in her face.

"It wasn't Carol, or Harris either. It was-it was Karim. He -was laughing at me. He said I couldn't be as cold as I pretended to be, because he'd heard . .. Oh God, how could" you? Did you think it was funny, a great big joke to be shared with all your friends?" She almost choked on her drink.

Webb's face seemed to tighten, closing against her. "There never was a tape made, that I know of, of what happened between you and me, Annie." He shrugged, wincing as he did, keeping his voice even. "Sure, Caro and I used to play all kinds of sick games at one time. One of the stupid bets we were always making with each other.

But I'd quit a long time before I met you. So if someone had my room bugged, I didn't know about it. And that makes me wonder, too .. ,"

When, for Christ's sake? And why? And what if this room had a bug planted in it, too?

He'd have to look ... Anne was worrying her lower lip with her teeth, staring at him with contempt and mistrust. Was she being used, or was she one of the users herself?

"Do you expect me to believe you? Why should I?"

"I don't really care if you do or not, baby. All I want is the answers. The honest answers. Let's skip to that film you talked about, shall we?" She put the glass down with unnecessary violence, and her hands clenched the arms of the chair as she answered him.

"Oh yes, of course! You and Venetia by firelight and water, with all those mirrors reflecting you-it must have been quite a kick for you both, and you gave a good performance, as usual. Are you going to deny that, too?"

"Uh-uh." He shook his head, but his eyes were thoughtful. "That happened-only I didn't learn until afterward that the whole damn thing was being filmed. Johnnie Bardini. The bastard promised me he'd destroyed the negative. So how in hell did someone get hold of a copy, and how did you happen to see it?"

"Oh, but you're disgusting, do you know that? Tapes, cameras, action. The kind you're so good at! You do it for the movies, too, so why should you care?"

"I was asking you for some answers, Annie." His voice had turned dangerous again.

She frowned rebelliously, but answered him all the same-throwing words at him with all the scorn she could muster. "I'm sure I don't know how anyone got hold of a copy, and I didn't care to ask! .Why don't you ask Harris to show you his private collection of real-life porn sometime? Your little episode was only one of the many-it was really quite amusing, after a while, to see so many real, recognizable people doing so many-ugly, unspeakable things!"

"Didn't it turn you on, love?" He squinted his eyes hatefully at her. "Didn't you feel like volunteering? Or maybe Harris has already put you in one of his party movies. Did he give you a screen test before he offered you the part of Glory? Don't worry-lots of the biggest female stars got started that way, with very special screen tests, shot in private. Haven't you and Karim started rehearsing yet?"

"You bastard! Don't try to turn your own perverted ideas of -of fun onto me! Oh, I could almost feel sorry for you, because you're so sick in the head! And I'm disgusted with myself because I actually let you touch me!" She went on recklessly: "And thank God I was never quite fool enough to take you seriously. Although you were a good teacher, Webb, I'll grant you that much. You-"

"Annie, why did you walk out on me that time?" His words took her by surprise, cutting her angry tirade off short. "Cut the crap-it wasn't because I happened to run into Venetia-you couldn't have known then. Because I called you when the damned airplane was fogged in, and you weren't there. And why hadn't you told me you'd accepted the role of Glory?" His voice hardened again. "You were playing your own little games, baby, and you can't deny it. So who's the hypocrite?"

"You are-you are!" She pounded a fist on the arm of the chair, wishing it could have been his lying face instead. "You lied and pretended with me from the beginning-and I was stupid enough, at first, not to believe anything they told me!”

"They?"

She was too far gone to care now, even if he did kill her. "Craig warned me. Oh, I thought at first he was just jealous, but later I began to wonder. There were too many things-and when I was away from you, I could see them more clearly. He said-he said you were only playing around with me because you had reason to hate my father-and that's true, isn't it? That time in Deepwood, when you asked me about my father ... and Craig said you're connected with-with the Mafia!" The sound she made was half hysterical giggle and half sob. "Well, are you, Webb? Is that why you're so good at killing? Is that why you knew we were being followed when we drove back from Guildford? Are you used to being followed? Is that why you're always so suspicious? God, I feel as if we're all playing in some melodrama! Why are you asking me all these questions? What does it matter to you?" She brought her hands up, pushing them against her temples as if to ward off the ugly thoughts that whirled in her brain, emerging from her mouth almost without volition. Why did he just sit there staring at her? Why didn't he say something? Wasn't he going to deny anything? Or was he only planning how he would get rid of her? She could have, and should have, killed him earlier this afternoon-but ... could she have lived with the thought?

Webb's thoughts had taken another, darker direction. Craig Hyatt had "warned" her.

Hyatt and Reardon-there was a connection there, and not just through marriage. Why had they let her come here? They could have stopped her; he knew Reardon's methods as well as anyone else did-better than most. That cold-blooded, aseptic bastard with the computer brain. Would he use his own daughter, and discard her as easily as he had his other pawns? And if he suspected what Anne knew ... all the more reason, wasn't it? Use her by letting the others think they were using her, to smoke them out of cover. And then ... get rid of her? A picture flashed across his brain of Peter smiling. TIle killer who enjoyed killing. What would they do about Anne?

Suddenly, he was tired of questions and answers. Even the questions he asked himself and the answers he came up with. He was tired, period, and only one question remained: How much did she really hate him?

He drained his glass and put it down, crossing the room to where she sat huddled in the chair and pulled her savagely to her feet.

"No-don't!"

"You cut that scene short with your knife trick, Annie love. Now we're through with talking, why don't we finish it, just for the record?"

His mouth cut off the rest of her protests, along with her breath, and even her will. He was exacting his final revenge, and she knew it with her mind, before the treachery of her own senses and his body subjugated everything to the flood of passion that took over like an uncontrolled demon.

The battlefield was a different one now as they fell across the bed, still kissing. Why Webb? Why always Webb and only Webb who could take her, without any effort or preliminaries, up to the heights and send her over the edge of desire and beyond, only to take her up with him again-and again-and again? In Anne's mind, in the pulsing in her ears, it was like the sea-breakers pounding, drawing back, rearing up to come crashing down again. Never-ending, everlasting. Her body was the earth with all its curves and hollows, and his was ocean -endlessly, insinuatingly taking more and more until she was shredded from rocks to sand. Giving herself up to destruction,wanting it.

Bodies-feeling. His hands and mouth tracing continents. Exploring inside her to ignite ancient volcanos that had lain dormant since he had found them last.

She was lost-wanting to be lost, needing to be lost. Like this. Crying without knowing she was crying, until at last she felt his fingers wipe the tears from her face with surprising tenderness.

Sal Espinoza turned away from his intent scrutiny of the video monitor when Harris Phelps came into the air-conditioned room, shutting the door behind him with a snap.

Harris wore a frown, and he was stroking his mustache as he usually did when he was upset-or extraordinarily pleased.

"Is something wrong?" "Yes." Harris was unusually blunt. "Anne's disappeared.

Brightman came up to have a talk with me-he said he'd left her sleeping off the effects of the afternoon in his room. He just called me in a panic-says she apparently woke up while he was gone and just walked out. She's not in her room-I just checked. And Karim hasn't seen her either ..." "You need not worry. She's with Webb Carnahan." Catching Harris's momentarily unguarded expression, Espinoza gave a lazy chuckle.

"Ah, come, my friend! You ought to be glad that our two stars seem to have made up their differences. That was quite a performance this afternoon, wasn't it? She surprised me with her-fire. But then, you know what they say about love and hate.

Such a thin dividing line, eh?" He nodded towards the screen, and Harris, his face muscles drawn tight, saw the miniature picture of the bed, covers trailing onto the floor-Webb Carnahan's body still partially covering Anne's. He watched, and saw them kiss, heard her sigh on the turned-up sound-track.

"You've been taping all this ... I"

"Of course. I found it most fascinating. Especially her very uninhibited reactions to his rather rough approach. For a short time I thought it would be a rape, and then ..."

He shrugged, taking pleasure through hooded eyes in Harris's stiffness. "I wonder what Anna-Maria will think of all this? He sent her away from him, you know. And she wasn't too happy about it."

"What the hell kind of game is Carnahan playing?" Harris said with suppressed fury.

"How did he get her back to his room? Why?" He tried to control himself, realizing that Espinoza was observing him quizzically.

The other man's shoulders lifted again. "Our friend the doctor was careless enough to leave his door unlocked, I suppose. And I can only suppose, also, that Carnahan was curious-or maybe he was angry. After all, she did try to kill him! So I can only surmise that he saw Dr. Brightman walk by, intent on finding you, and Carnahan wanted to find out what had happened to make her so angry with him. I did not get much of what went on in Brightman's room, but when he took her back to his, he asked a lot of questions. Some of them may interest you."

"Oh?" Harris Phelps was frowning again. After an infinitesimal pause he went on in a smoother voice: "I'm sure that would prove interesting. I had several telephone calls, in between seeing Brightman and looking for Anne. One from Carol -Markham's flying down here next weekend with his CIA friend, Parmenter, and she'll be down the day before. And the other from our useful friend in high places, who had some extremely interesting information to pass on-about Webb Carnahan." His voice sharpened. "What kind of questions did he ask Anne? What did she tell him?"

"She does not know very much, does she? Only little things she has picked up-and our friend Karim has a big mouth, as his uncle warned us. You'll learn for yourself when you play back the tape. But what did Brightman have for you? Did he make any headway?" Espinoza's voice was noncommittal, but his eyes were as watchful as ever, and he saw Harris's tiny hesitation before he answered.

"He made quite a lot of headway, as a matter of fact. He came to me for advice, and gave me the tapes he'd made-for safekeeping in the vault. In fact"-and he smiled at last, lips thinning-"I think we have enough on Reardon now to make sure he's rendered useless. We'll have a private meeting tonight, of course."

"Sure!" Espinoza nodded, his face a politely smiling blank. He wondered what Harris Phelps was keeping back, and was glad that he, in his turn, had had the opportunity while he was up here alone to secrete a small segment of video tape that might or might not come in useful sometime. Harris need not know just yet that Carnahan had made a search of Brightman's room before he woke Anne up. Or that he had read Brightman's notes. It was Webb Carnahan's connections, if what the girl had said was true, that interested him most. And he had learned, through experience, that one should never completely trust any other person, partner or not. It was always useful to keep a hidden ace somewhere, just in case ...

Anne wanted to keep floating forever, dreamlike, on the edge .

of sleep, not waking up to thought or reality. It was as if all the ugliness-question and answer and defiance and hate and fear-had never happened. For the moment, at least, there was only this present. She and Webb, skin to skin, mouth to mouth, isolated on an island in the sea of time. She didn't want to think any further, and neither did he. Slip into sleep -don't think ... At her halfhearted movement to pull her body from under his he had murmured against her mouth, "Stay with me, Annie-love.

Don't go." And after that the only motion she was capable of making was to adjust her body more closely to his. The room grew cold after the heat of their passion, and he pulled the covers up over them both. They both slept and the late-afternoon sun moved its sullen spears of light through cracks in the blinds, across the bed and up across the opposite wall, until they faded into nothingness, swallowed up between the twisted cypresses and the ocean in the end.

Darkness was a cool-warm blanket. Safe, enveloping membrane within the womb of early night until jagged-shape splinters of light ripped it open. A woman's voice, slightly accented, said, "Webb? I could not stop worrying about you. I know I am a fool, but ... oh!"