the Hunted (1977) (6 page)

"Okay, but I'm just speaking for myself, the wa
y I see it. I'm an infantryman without a job. But I w ouldn't want the fucking job again if it was t o open up. So what am I doing waiting around?"

Sgt. Cox wasn't squinting now, but continued t
o stare at him. "I think you got a problem, Davis.

Finding out where you belong."

Davis almost smiled, relieved. He wanted to, bu
t he didn't. "I probably make it sound more complicated than it is."

"I'll agree with you there," Sgt. Cox said. "W
e talk about something, it seems like a fairly simpl e issue, then you start telling me how you feel.

What's that got to do with it?"

"Well, I'm gonna go away and think about it."

Davis did grin then. "I don't know. I'm liable t
o come back and ship over again, but I got to be certain what I want to do."

Sgt. Cox hesitated, but decided not to get in an
y deeper. "You have transportation?"

"I was gonna rent a car, but Raymond Garcia'
s letting me use his."

"Going hot-rodding, huh? Scare the shit out o
f the Israelites?"

"No, I'm gonna take it easy," Davis said.

"Maybe go down into the Sinai and shoot som
e birds. Get off by myself and think. I haven't mad e any real plans."

"Maybe that's your trouble," Sgt. Cox said.

The previous night in the Hilton bar, Kama
l Rashad had been talking to a couple of Canadia n U
. N
. soldiers stationed at Ismailiya on the Canal.

Couple of assholes from Guelph, Ontario, sitting a
t the bar drinking their Maccabees, not knowing shi t about anything.

That's what Rashad thought Davis was--walkin
g into the Pal Hotel lobby with his haircut and hi s canvas bag and carrying a brown-paper packag e the size of a shoe box--a U
. N
. soldier.

Going over to the house phones at the end of th
e desk, Davis passed close to the spot where Rasha d was sitting. Rashad saw the USMC and insignia o n the olive-green canvas bag. Man had to be something like that with his haircut and suntans: a soldier or a man who worked construction. Rashad was watching the entrance and the pair of elevator s that served the new wing of the hotel. He didn'
t look over at the Marine again until he heard th e Marine say to the operator, "Mr. Bandy--can yo u give me his room number, please? I forgot it."

You never knew, did you? Rashad watched th
e Marine now. He could've raised his voice a littl e and said, "Eight two four." He heard the Marin e say, "Thank you," and watched him dial the number.

After a moment the Marine said, "It's me. I'
m down in the lobby."

Yeah, it's you, Rashad was thinking. But who ar
e you? He waited until the Marine crossed to the elevators, then went to the same house phone and dialed 518.

Teddy Cass answered. Rashad said, "Man loo
k like a soldier boy went up to their room. Had a overnight bag and a package with him." Tedd y Cass told him to hang on. When Teddy came bac k to the phone he said, "Val wants you to stay awake.

The guy comes down, follow him. You got it?"

"If I can remember all that," Rashad said.

It looked like somebody was moving, all the furniture strung along the hall on the eighth floor. The doors of both 823 and 824 were open. Davi s stepped aside as two hotel employees came ou t carrying parts of a bed. He saw Tali inside 823 an d went in when the hallway was clear. She smiled a t him as if he were an old friend.

Davis smiled back, handing her the brown-pape
r package with his name and address on it. "What'
s going on?"

She gave him a tired little shrug. "I don't know.

He wants more room for something."

"Who does?"

"Mr. Bandy. I told you, the lawyer who cam
e from the States. He's in there." She nodded towar d the open connecting doors.

Davi
s
coul d hea r him: "Yo
u
brin g th e couch? . . . I said I wanted a couch. It goes righ t there against the wall. . . . Hey, and another chai r like this one. And the refrigerator. I'm supposed t o have a refrigerator. . . . TALI!"

"He's going to have a heart attack," Davis said.

"I hope so," Tali said.

Mel appeared in the connecting doorway. H
e was in his socks, his silver-gray tie pulled down, hi s appearance rumpled, coming apart.

"The hell you doing?"

"Trying to stay out of the way," Tali said. "Mr.

Bandy, this is Sergeant Davis."

Mel only glanced at him and nodded, more interested in the package. "That's it, huh?" He came in, taking the package out of Tali's hands, and move d past the double beds to the coffee table by the windows. "Give me a knife or something and get the sergeant a drink. Sarge, what do you like?"

"It doesn't matter. Anything."

Mel was grimacing, pulling at the cord tie
d around the package. "Tali!"

"I'm here."

"You call room service?"

"They should be here soon. You want somethin
g else?"

"Fucking string--see if one of those guys ha
s something to cut it with."

As Tali turned to go, Davis stopped her. He dug
a clasp knife from his pants pocket, pried open th e blade as he stepped over to where Mel was sitting , and cut the cord from the package.

"Never mind!" Mel called out.

Davis looked at Tali, who gave him the littl
e shrug again. They watched as Mel tore the pape r from a light metal box, opened it on his lap, and began taking out packets of U
. S
. currency, twenty of them, placing them on the coffee table and squaring them off evenly into two stacks.

"You ever see this much money before?" H
e glanced up at Davis.

"More 'n that," Davis said.

"Where?"

"Parris Island. On payday."

"That doesn't count," Mel said, looking at th
e currency again. "How much would you say i s there?"

"I don't know. The other times, Tali said it was
a hundred thousand. But that looks like more."

"How much more?"

"Probably two hundred thousand."

"On the nose," Mel said.

Tali was frowning. "Why is it more this time?"

But Mel was already talking. "Doesn't look lik
e that much, does it? But they're all hundred-dolla r bills. You ever wonder about it? Where it goes?"

"Not too much," Davis said. He was wastin
g time while the guy played with him, showing off.

He said to Tali, "Did you want to pay me now? I'v
e got to get going."

"Yes, let me get my purse." Tali went into the adjoining room.

Mel was still watching him. "Where you going?"

"I've got some leave coming," Davis said, "an
d I'm getting out pretty soon, for good. So I thought I b etter take it."

"How long you been in?"

"Sixteen years."

"Jesus," Mel said.

"That's about the way I feel," Davis said. H
e was going to be paid and get out, so he didn't min d talking a little now. The man asked him where h e was going, if he'd be staying right around here.

Davis said the country wasn't that big. Anywher
e you went, you were still around, you might say. Tal i came in with her purse and handed him an Israel i thousand-pound note.

"I wanted to mention," Davis said, "I'm borrowing a car from a friend of mine, Sergeant Raymond Garcia. He's the NCO in charge at the consulate i n Jerusalem. I've been thinking he'd probably be willing to take over for me, have the package mailed to him. The only thing, he's in Jerusalem. I didn'
t know if that would make a difference."

He looked from Tali to the heavyset, rumple
d guy in the chair, Mr. Bandy, not sure who was goin g to make the decision. Neither of them said anything.

"He's driving over this evening. I'm supposed t
o meet him at Norman's. He's got a girlfriend her e he'll probably stay with and she'll drive him back."

Davis waited.

Tali nodded finally and said, "Yes, I could spea
k with him."

"Or hold up on it for the time being," Mel said.

"Sarge, why don't you let us think about it. What I
w ould like you to do, if it's not too much trouble"-
p ulling himself, with an effort, out of the chair a s he asked the favor--"is stay with Tali while sh e takes the money downstairs to the hotel safe.

Would you do that for us?"

Davis said it wouldn't be any trouble at all. H
e waited while the guy stacked the money in th e metal box, then took it out again and sent Tali t o get his attache case from the next room. He too k time to glance at some papers while he emptied th e attache case and threw the papers on the bed. Th e guy didn't seem very organized. Didn't give a shit a t all about other people, Davis decided. A roomservice waiter came with a bottle of Scotch and ice while they were still there, but the guy didn't offer a drink now. He'd forgotten about it. He didn't eve n say anything as they walked out.

In the elevator, Davis waited until the door closed.

"What's the matter?"

Tali shook her head. "I don't know. Something i
s going on. Something strange, but I don't kno w what it is." She was tense, holding the attache cas e at her side.

"And you can't tell me what's wrong."

"I don't see how I can."

"Come to Norman's with me and have a drink."

"I would like to, but I have to go back."

"You work for that guy? Mr. Bandy?"

"In a way I do, I suppose."

"Upstairs, you looked at the money, you said
, 'Why is there more this time?' He didn't answe r you."

"I don't think he heard me. Or didn't choose t
o tell me. He doesn't have to."

"What's Mr. Bandy do? Can I ask you that?"

"He's a lawyer."

"In Tel Aviv with two hundred thousand dollar
s and you don't know why," Davis said, "and you'r e not sure if you work for him, but you have to ge t back upstairs."

The elevator door opened. Walking out into th
e lobby he stopped her, taking her gently by the arm.

"Why don't you put the money in the safe an
d come with me to Norman's? Or don't come wit h me, but get out of whatever you're in. Okay?"

She shook her head, looking past him, avoidin
g his eyes. "I can't do that."

"Why?"

"Really, it isn't something to worry about. It isn'
t even my business to know. You understand? S
o how can I tell you anything?"

"I'm worried about you," Davis said. "I hardl
y even know you and I'm worried."

"Don't, please. I'm sorry."

"I'll be at Norman's," Davis said. "If I'm no
t there later, leave word where you are. Okay?"

He liked the way she was looking at him now.

He thought for a moment she might change he
r mind and come with him. But she said, "Than k you, David," and walked off toward the desk wit h the attache case. He watched her, still hearing he r voice, realizing it was the first time she had eve r said his name.

Rashad was sitting next to Valenzuela. They had
a good view of Davis and the girl. Teddy Cass wa s across the lobby, looking at a display case containing handmade leather goods.

"Look at him looking at her ass," Rashad said.

"He saying, 'I wouldn't mind me some of that.'

Man, I wouldn't either."

"That's the briefcase Bandy had on the plane,"

Valenzuela said. "What'd you say the guy wa
s carrying?"

"Yeah, he doesn't have them now," Rashad said.

"Left them upstairs. A brown-paper package and
a bag say Marines on it, U-S-M-C. Don't he look lik e one?"

"He's leaving," Valenzuela said. "Get on him."

Rashad stood up. He waited until Davis was outside before following him. Valenzuela crossed the lobby to where Teddy Cass was looking at himsel f in the glass case, reflected among the sandals an d handbags.

"See anything you like?"

"They're made out of camel hide, all this stuf
f here."

"No shit," Valenzuela said. "You through, we'l
l go up and talk to the lawyer."