The Killer Touch (14 page)

Ace got up and walked to the window. He stared out at the blackness.

“Worried about the murder rap, Ace?”

Ace whirled. “Why should I be? Bunny—”

“Sure, she killed the ambassador. But if you're caught, she'll say it was you, and you'll burn. Nobody believes an ex-con.”

“Nobody's gonna get caught. Rolf is smart.”

“Smart, yes, but he's not normal, Ace. He doesn't figure profit and loss like you and me. He's got his own balance sheet, and you don't know what's on it.”

“I know there's two hundred and fifty grand on it. That's enough.”

“Maybe that's what Charlie thought, too. He didn't expect a knife in the chest.”

“Ahh, shut up.” Ace turned back to the window, showing Burt his massive back.

“Why did you think Rolf picked this island to make the split? One by one he'll cut down the percentages. First Charlie, then Hoke or the kid there—”

Ace whirled, his face twisted. “Shut up! I told you—”

Bunny opened the door and looked around. “Where's Rolf?”

“With the kid. What about the girl?”

“Couldn't find her. The old lady said she took off during the excitement. She wouldn't unbar the door, but I peeked in and saw she was alone. I'll go tell Rolf—”

“Stay with gabby. I'll go.”

Bunny sat on the bed and lit a cigarette. After a minute she stood up and nudged Burt's arm with a slippered foot. “Want a drag, baby?”

Burt gazed up the twin white columns of her legs, past the short revealing beach coat, and saw the teasing' half-smile on her face. “No, thanks.”

“Come on, settle your nerves.” She squatted down and brought the cigarette toward his mouth. At the last minute she reversed it and jammed the glowing tip between his lips. Burt felt the lash of pain and spat out the burning sparks.

“You hate all men, don't you, Bunny? Is that why you killed the ambassador?”

“Him! I killed him because he was a pig.” She moved out of sight behind his head. “If you're curious, I'll tell you how it happened. Ace and the boys were coming in at ten, see? I was supposed to keep the old guy busy. At nine-fifty he was watching TV, and I came up behind him like this.” Burt felt her fingers stroking his hair. “I rubbed his greasy old bald head, I kissed him like this—” moist lips touched Burt's forehead “—then I did this—” Burt shivered as she blew in his ear “—then this—” Burt stiffened at the touch of cold metal against his temple. “And I went …
BANG
!”

Burt jumped. Bunny threw herself on the bed and whooped with laughter.

“You're as crazy as Rolf,” he said.

She sat up and brushed the hair from her eyes. “Sure. That's why we make a good team.”

“I've seen your type before, Bunny. You hang yourself up with a destructive man knowing damn well that he'll wind up destroying you, too. What motivates you? You want to die?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but Ace came in and slumped down on the bed. His face was greenish-white. “Jesus!” He shook his head slowly. “I went over there.” He swallowed. “Rolf is talking to the kid like a father. Telling him everything's gonna be all right, that he's gonna take care of him. And all the time he's got this little thin wire, running it through his fingers, and … you know what he's gonna do?” Apparently Ace had his limits.

Burt felt his stomach twist. When had Godfrey's guitar strings disappeared? Yesterday afternoon. Then Rolf had planned something like this …

Bunny jumped up and started toward the door. Ace caught her arm and threw her across the bed. “He doesn't want you.”

Bunny bounced up, her eyes blazing. “Don't get any macho ideas from last night. I take orders from only one man,”

Ace shrugged. “So go over. But he'll throw you out He said he wanted to be alone.”

Bunny sighed and lay back on the bed. She looked at the ceiling and sighed. “Men,” she breathed in disgust.

Minutes passed. Ace jumped up and paced the room. He jammed his fist into his palm. “I don't understand the guy. Why does he drag it out?”

“I told you why,” said Burt.

Ace took a step toward him. “I warned you, fuzz—”

He stopped as the door opened. Rolf walked in with a light step, his eyes bright. He pointed a finger at Ace and jerked his thumb toward the door. “Weight him down and put him in the launch with Charlie. I'll dump them both at the same time.”

Ace merely stared, and Rolf added: “If you see Hoke, tell him the kid died from loss of blood. He would've anyway.”

Ace nodded and went out, walking like a somnambulist. Rolf lowered himself into a chair and closed his eyes; he seemed calm and sated, like a lion who has just devoured a heavy meal.

“The girl is obviously hiding out,” he mused. “She grew up on the island, she could stay hidden for hours. I could bring in one of the others, but that would take time. I've got to leave here in an hour.” He stood up and walked to the window. “Those manchineel trees; I've heard that their sap does violent things to a man's eyesight.”

Burt had an idea; he moaned softly. “You … wouldn't blind a man;”

Rolf looked down at him and scratched his chin. “I wonder if I've found another weakness.”

“Going blind is a hard knock for a detective,” said Bunny.

“Hmmm. Yes.” Rolf reached inside his shirt and pulled out a knife. He held it out to Bunny, hilt first “You'll have to slash the bark to get it.”

Bunny, went out with a flash light and returned five minutes later with a medicine bottle full of milky fluid. They knelt beside Burt, one on each side.

“Hold his left eye open,” said Rolf.

Cool fingers pried his twitching lids apart; Burt looked up into an emerald green eye with an iris splintered with gray. Her pupil was half-dilated, but he knew she wasn't drugged. She didn't need drugs …

Rolf held a medicine dropper above his eye. Burt stared at the glistening globule which appeared at its tip, saw it tremble and fall—

Ahhhh!

There was no need to pretend pain. It burned like acid. Burt thought of the old island doctor who'd told him the blindness was temporary, not much worse than poison ivy; he writhed and struggled and recalled that the old doc had been drunk when he said it.

“A last chance, Burt. You can save one eye.” Rolf paused, then: “Okay, Bunny. Hold it, there …”

The pain was worse this time, double. Burt squeezed his eyes shut and stared into a fiery redness like the pit of a volcano. Molten rock spurted up and lashed his brain. Ah, but something else was down there, cool and black. He groped downward with all his being, entered the blackness.
Peace
. He curled up and went to sleep.

TEN

He awoke in terror. For an instant he thought he really was blind; there was nothing but blackness outside his eyes; it stopped his vision not in front of his eyes but at their surfaces, as though his eyeballs had been painted black. Then he made out the details of the window; just a paler shade of black against the total darkness of the room. He was puzzled. There should have been a sunrise. Then he heard the soft susurration on the thatched roof. It was raining; a heavy, windless rain, as though the clouds were not releasing moisture but rather leaking.

He lay still for a moment trying to sum up the situation. He was still tied. Maudie, presumably, hidden. Boris dead. Jata, locked in. Joss, Coco and Godfrey, totally harmless. He hoped Rolf realized that. Unfortunately, he was a psychopathic killer and capable of killing everybody on the island.

He heard soft breathing above him; occasionally there came a rustle of bedclothes and a soft high moan. Female. He was in the keeping of Bunny, and Bunny was a restless sleeper.

He waited until the wind rattled the palm leaves outside, then he tested his bonds. Tight. His hands were tied to some protuberance on the wall. He moved them and found a mortar seam jutting out between the stones. He rubbed the rope against it and the concrete crumbled damply. Damn Joss for using lousy cement.…

He settled back and breathed heavily through his open mouth. He wished he'd been left with Ace instead of Bunny. There was no way to reach the woman.

Something tickled his wrists, and he felt a shooting pain in his hand. A rat, hell. Lie still: oh, if I only had something to put on my ropes so the rat would chew them.…

This is the rat that gnawed the rope
.

But no, he's moving up, pitter-patter of little feet heavy weight on chest, he smells the blood from those burns …

No
!

It was more than he could take; with a thrusting twist of his body he rolled over, spilling the rat on the floor. It scurried away, and from above him came the crackle of the coconut straw mattress. Her voice came sharp and clear without a semblance of sleepiness:

“Fuzz, you awake?”

Burt said nothing.

Patter of bare feet, scrape of a match, tinkle of lamp chimney. Yellow light filled the room. Careful not to blink, Burt stared at the ceiling. He heard the whisper of her bare feet, saw her face appear only inches from his. Her hair was a black, tousled cloud.

“You're awake, sure. You're really blind, are you? Rolf thought you might fake it.”

Burt tightened his lips and kept staring upward. The strain made his eyes water.

“You crying, Burt? No, you wouldn't cry, would you? What have you been doing?”

“Counting sheep, what else?”

She laughed without humor. “Can you count what you can't see?” She tugged at his bonds with a skillful hand, then rose to her feet. “You should've talked sooner. You wouldn't have had to spend your last hours as a blind man.”

She picked up the lamp and walked toward the bathroom. From the corner of his eyes, Burt saw the curved outline of her body silhouetted by the lamp she carried before her. Her black, ankle-length gown flowed around her like smoke.

The door closed, leaving the room in half-darkness. Burt closed his eyes and felt the tears course down his temples, into his ears. He heard the gurgle of the chain-flush toilet, then the sputter of the shower. Outside the day grew lighter.

The bathroom door opened. Burt turned his head back toward the ceiling. He was aware of the woman walking toward him on silent bare feet. She moved in a slow, stagy, hip-rolling fashion, shrugging the gown off her shoulders and catching it behind her. A moment later she stood over him, filling his vision with the twin hemispheres of her breasts bisected by the gentler curve of her stomach. She bent down, and he smelled the soap-washed odor of her skin. He felt her hand searching intimately.

She rose with an abrupt snort. “Man, you
are
blind. Blind as a bat.”

She walked away and Burt heard her rummaging in her suitcase.

She appeared again in his field of vision, laid her clothing out on the bed, and began dressing. Without looking at her directly, Burt noted the difference in the way a woman dresses in the presence of a man, and the way she does it when she's unaware of being watched. There was no languor of movement; buttons and zippers were no longer keys which could open windows into a mysterious world, but only garment fastenings. It was a matter-of-fact operation, totally devoid of erotic ritual, like harnessing a horse or setting a table. Her voice filled the spaces between the swish and rustle of her clothing. She would accompany Rolf to meet the men in Caracas, she said. Rolf wanted her along because she knew the language better than he did. She talked to Burt with a vague condescension, as though she had already come to regard him as less than a man. Burt decided that it would be worth all the pain in his eyes, if it only made her careless.…

“Where is Rolf now?” he asked.

“He went to Petit—” She caught herself. “He went to give his wife her … uh, food for the day. He's picking me up on his way back. Then we'll …”

Burt barely heard the rest of it. Petit, he thought, Petit Martinque, Petit Baliceaux, Petit Mustique, Petit Cannouan, Petit St. Vincent, Petit this and that. Even the Tobago Gays had three islands with such a prefix; Petit Rameau, Petit Bateau, and Petit Tabac. One of those remote clods, he decided, but which one?

He turned his attention to the woman. Dressed now in a white blouse, smoke-blue skirt and matching shoes, she sat on the bed and peered into a hand-mirror propped against the lamp. Her words became slurred as she applied lipstick:

“… spend two days without me, Baby, but don't break up. I'll be back. Meantime you'll be tied up here in the dark like a little rabbit. No food, no water. Don't try to untie yourself because Hoke or Ace will be outside. They can't come in because I'm padlocking the door and taking the key. Don't bother to yell because they won't answer. Rolf calls it the black hole treatment; you're supposed to gabble like a turkey when you come out. I don't know, personally; I did two years in a reformatory because of guys like you and we went through things just about as bad. But maybe Rolf knows what he's doing …”

Rolf did know what he was doing, thought Burt; so had the Chinese Reds, the Japanese and the wardens of Devil's Island. They'd learned that you totally destroy a man's will when you bury him alive.

He watched her reach into her purse and take out a tiny black cylinder not more than a half-inch long. She spread a handkerchief on the table, unscrewed the cylinder, and took out an object which glistened like a drop of water on her right index finger. With her left hand she spread the lids of her right eye and touched the finger to it. Her eyelids fluttered rapidly. She clenched her fists and beat them gently against the table.

“Oh, brother, I know how you felt when Rolf dropped that sap in your eyes. These lenses are a bitch at first, like running around with a cinder in your eye.” She pulled out a tissue and blew her nose, then bent to insert the other lens. “But I can take it another week.”