'I know I can cook. I also know you shouldn't cut loose with that thing.'
'That thing?' Turner yelled. 'This is a.38. Damn good gun.'
'Not the way you use it,' Luis said. 'Oh no?'
Turner aimed and fired at the mermaid. A chip of stone flew off the edge of the stone shell.
'There ain't enough light,' said Luis. 'Nobody shoots good by moonlight. Come back to the party. I'll make some chili con carne.'
'No,' said Turner, and fired again. A bullet slammed into a pine tree, six feet off target.
'Chicken a la king?'
'No.' The.38 roared, and the pine took more punishment.
'How about a steak? Medium rare. French fried onions. Beans. Salad on the side. Apple pie. I got some beer on ice.'
'Well-'
Turner lurched round and the.38's barrel made a black and shining arc in the moonlight. Craig took it from Turner, who said sternly, 'Don't fool with that thing. It's loaded,' then began a long wrangle with Luis on the depth of the apple pie. Craig lifted the gun and fired three times, and the smile was wiped forever from the mermaid's face. More important, the gun was empty.
'Hey,' said Turner. 'You're pretty good with that thing. Lemme reload it for you.'
He took it from Craig, fumbled in his pocket, and produced a loose handful of.38 cartridges, punching them home one by one, then handed it back to Craig.
Craig said, 'I could do with a steak myself.'
'Great idea. We'll shoot later,' Turner said. When he turned his back, Craig hid the gun under the rim of the fountain. There'd been enough shooting already.
They went back to the house, where Ashford sat, dead asleep even in that uproar of party screams and records at full blast. Turner said they would go into the kitchen and Craig hesitated, but left Ashford where he was. He needed a rest.
There was, it appeared, a hierarchy in Dan Turner's parties. Only those of the first rank were permitted to enter the kitchen, to watch Luis in priestly white, ministering at the electric altars as the aromatic incense rose. Craig, hungry again, went with Sophie and Maria, the Count, an Italian, spare and very tired, and Dan himself. They sat at a long curved bar and ate their steaks as Luis cooked them, and drank Provencal wine, while Turner drank beer. It was all very chic, the sort of thing that might have earned a double-page spread in a snob magazine, yet Craig doubted if anyone there except himself and the two girls had been sober for the last week. He ate the steak which Sophie cut up for him, and listened to Turner on road haulage, or the Count, whose name was Nono, on the expense of maintaining a villa in Tuscany. Once there was uproar from the lesser mortals, and Turner went out to investigate. Then cars screeched off as they left for another party, but after that it was all just very good food, until Luis made coffee, black and strong, and Turner poured brandy into it, and the Count turned pale.
The door behind them opened, and Luis looked shocked. Lesser people never invaded the kitchen at Dan Turner's. Larry walked in, and behind him was La Valere in uniform.
Larry said, 'I'm sorry, Dan. This guy claims it's urgent.' La Valere ignored Turner, and walked straight to Craig. He was pale and sweating.
'You are a cowardly pig,' La Valere said. Craig grinned. 'You are a bastard. You have no honor.'
'Get the hell out of here,' Turner bawled.
Very deliberately, La Valere struck Craig on the cheek. Craig winced, but the grin stayed where it was, and he motioned to Turner to be still.
'No,' said La Valere. 'I'll do it again. Swine.' Again he struck, and Craig, one-handed, caught his wrist and pulled. La Valere began to sweat more than ever.
'Just tell me what you're after,' Craig said.
'A duel,' said La Valere. 'I challenge you to a duel.'
'The guy's nuts,' said Turner. 'Get him out of here.'
La Valere tried to pull free, and Craig increased his pressure. La Valere stood still.
'It is ridiculous,' Nono said. 'The young man'-he gestured at La Valere-'is in no position to demand satisfaction. He has not been insulted.'
'But you have,' La Valere hissed at Craig. 'I have insulted you publicly. It is up to you to challenge me.'
'That is better,' Nono said. 'The gentleman holding your wrist in that painful manner must now demand satisfaction. If he does so, we can proceed to the choice of weapons-provided of course that you are both gentlemen.'
'I am an officer in the French Army,' La Valere said.
'Indeed?' said Nono. 'I suppose that is adequate. And you, sir?'
'I'm a businessman,' said Craig.
'You once held a commission in the British Navy,' said La Valere.
Nono reflected. 'I think that you might, with propriety, engage in a duel,' he said at last. 'Indeed, I think that you will have to, Reynolds. This Frenchman seems quite set on it.'
Craig released La Valere's wrist.
'I'm not,' he said.
'I've brought my seconds,' La Valere said. 'Duclos and Pucelli.'
'What about weapons?' asked Nono. 'He can hardly attempt to fight with a sword-even supposing one were available.' He gestured at Craig's hand.
'Pistols,' said La Valere, 'will do admirably.'
Turner put down his fork.
'You're crazy,' he said. 'I don't want any crazies here. Drunks yes-nuts no. You get out of here.'
La Valere said, 'I'm perfectly willing to leave, but I want a word with him first.'
Craig shrugged, and walked to the door with La Valere. 'This is your only chance,' the Frenchman whispered. 'If you do not agree, Pucelli will kill you.' 'Maybe,' said Craig.
'He will also kill your girls,' said La Valere, 'and anyone else who gets in his way.' Craig shrugged.
'It's an awful lot of people to kill,' he said.
'Not really,' said La Valere. 'All the other guests have gone. We saw them. There is another party in Cannes. There is only a Negro here who was reciting Rimbaud, and a Tonkinese who is asleep. This is a very peculiar household,' he added, severely.
Craig said, 'You think you'll kill me?'
'I know I will,' said La Valere. 'At St-Cyr I was the best shot of my year. But if I should fall, Pucelli will kill you. I am offering you the chance to die like a gentleman.'
'Why?'
'Because I wish to kill you myself. And also because I betrayed the greatest man I have ever known. I deserve to suffer for this. Facing you will be my suffering. You killed the only man who could save France. You have to die.'
Craig saw that he was perfecdy serious.
'And Ashford? Is he to fight you too?'
'No,' La Valere said, 'his punishment is different from yours. He is going to watch.' He looked toward Sophie. 'Are you going to make another woman suffer?' he asked. 'Make up your mind, pig. Pucelli is outside. He isn't a patient man.'
Craig looked around at the people eating at the kitchen bar; cheerful, selfish, pleasure-loving people whom once again he'd had no business to involve.
'If I fight,' he asked, 'they don't get hurt?'
'Just you and Ashford. I give you my word,' said La Valere.
Craig sighed and looked at Sophie. 'All right,' he said, and walked back to the kitchen bar.
'He really seems set on it,' Craig said. 'I think we'd better humor him.'
'The hell we should,' said Turner.
'He's a nut, all right, but he's got a gun. He's also got two friends, and they've got guns too. If we don't go through with it, they'll use them anyway.'
'No,' Sophie said. 'No.'
