'Do you really think,' he asked, 'that the meat'll be all right?'
'Hell, I don't know,' the King said. 'Whole idea's sickening when you think about it. But — and it's a big but — business is business. With the twist we got, it's a genius idea!'
Peter Marlowe smiled and forgot the hurt of his arm. 'Don't forget. I get the first leg.'
'Anyone I know?'
'No.'
The King laughed. 'You wouldn't hold out on your buddy?'
'I'll tell you when delivery's made.'
'When it comes right down to it, meat's meat and food's food. Take the dog, for instance.'
'I saw Hawkins a day or so ago.'
'What happened?'
'Nothing. I certainly didn't want to say anything and he didn't want to talk about it.'
'He's on the ball, that guy. What's over's over.' Then the King said uneasily, tossing the cards on the table, 'I wish Shagata'd get here.'
Tex peered through the window. 'Hey!'
'Yeah.'
'Timsen says the owner's getting panicky. How long you going to wait?'
'I'll go see him.' The King slipped out of the window and whispered, 'You watch the shop, Peter. I won't be far away.'
'All right,' Peter Marlowe said. He picked up the cards and began to shuffle them, shuddering as the ache rose and fell and rose again.
The King kept to the shadows, feeling many eyes on him. Some were the eyes of his guards and the rest were alien and hostile. When he found Timsen, the Aussie was in a sweat.
'Hey, cobber. I can't keep him here forever.'
'Where is he?'
'When your contact arrives, I produce him. That's the deal. He ain't far away.'
'You better keep your eye on him. You don't want him knocked off, do you?'
'You stick to your end, I'll stick to mine. He's well guarded.' Timsen sucked on his Kooa, then passed it over to the King, who took a drag.
'Thanks.' The King nodded up towards the jail wall, east. 'You know about them?'
''Course.' The Aussie laughed. 'Tell you another thing. Grey's on his way down here right now. Whole area's lousy with cops and bushwhackers. I know of one Aussie gang, and I hear there's another that's got wind of the deal. But my cobbers've got the area taped. Soon as we get the money, you get the diamond.'
'We'll give the guard another ten minutes. If he doesn't arrive then we'll plan again. Same plan, different details.'
'Right, mate. I'll see you after grub tomorrow.'
'Let's hope it's tonight.'
But it was not that night. They waited, and still Shagata did not arrive, so the King called off the operation.
The next day Peter Marlowe joined the swarm of men waiting outside the hospital. It was after lunch and the sun tormented the air and the earth and the creatures of the earth. Even the flies were somnambulant. He found a patch of shade and squatted heavily hi the dust and began to wait.
The throb of his arm had worsened.
It was after dusk when his turn came.
Dr. Kennedy nodded briefly to Peter Marlowe and indicated for him to sit.
'How're you today?' he said absently.
'Not too bad, thank you.'
Dr. Kennedy leaned forward and touched the bandage. Peter Marlowe screamed.
'What the devil's the matter?' Dr. Kennedy said angrily. 'I hardly touched you, for God's sake!'
'I don't know. The slightest touch hurts like bloody hell.'
Dr. Kennedy stuck a thermometer in Peter Marlowe's mouth and then set the metronome clicking and took his pulse. Abnormal, pulse rate ninety.
Bad. Temperature normal, and that was also bad. He lifted the arm and sniffed the bandage. It had a distinct mousy odor. Bad.
'All right,' he said, 'I'm going to take the bandage off. Here.' He gave Peter Marlowe a small piece of tire rubber which he picked out of the sterilizing fluid with a pair of surgical tongs. 'Bite on this. I can't help hurting you.'
He waited until Peter Marlowe had put the rubber between his teeth, then, as gently as he could, he began unwinding the bandage. But it was clotted to the wound and now part of the wound and the only thing to do was rip, and he was not as deft as he should be and once was.
