The King sat weakly in the electric silence and Peter Marlowe took the lighter from his slack hand and lit his cigarette. The King automatically found his packet of Kooas and stuck one in his lips and held it there, not feeling it. Peter Marlowe leaned across and snapped the lighter for the King. The King took a long time to focus on the flame and then he saw that Peter Marlowe's hand was as unsteady as his own. He looked down the length of the hut where the men were like statues, staring back at him.
He could feel the sweat-chill on his shoulders and the wetness of his shirt.
There was a clattering of cans outside. Dino got up and looked out expectantly.
'Chow,' he called out happily. The spell shattered and the men left the hut with their eating utensils. And Peter Marlowe and the King were quite alone.
Chapter 3
The two men sat for a moment, gathering themselves. Then Peter Marlowe said shakily, 'God, that was close!'
'Yes,' the King said after an unhurried pause. Involuntarily, he shuddered again, then found his wallet and took out two ten-dollar bills and put them on the table. 'Here,' he said, 'this'll do for now. But you're on the payroll from here on in. Twenty a week.'
'What?'
'I'll give you twenty a week.' The King thought a moment. 'Guess you're right,' he said agreeably and smiled. 'It is worth more. We'll make it thirty.'
Then his eyes noticed the armband, so he added, 'Sir.'
'You can still call me Peter,' Peter Marlowe said, his voice edged. 'And just for the books — I don't want your money.' He got up and began to leave. 'Thanks for the cigarette.'
'Hey, wait a minute,' the King said, astonished. 'What the hell's gotten into you?'
Peter Marlowe stared down at the King and the anger flickered his eyes.
'What the hell do you think I am? Take your money, and shove it.'
'Something wrong with my money?'
'No. Only your manners!'
'Since when has manners got anything to do with money?'
Peter Marlowe abruptly turned to go. The King jumped up and stood between Peter Marlowe and the door.
'Just a minute,' he said and his voice was taut. 'I want to know something. Why did you cover up for me?'
'Well, that's obvious, isn't it? I dropped you in the creek. I couldn't leave you holding the baby. What do you think I am?'
'I don't know. I'm trying to find out.'
'It was my mistake. I'm sorry.'
'You got nothing to be sorry about,' the King said sharply. 'It was my mistake. I got stupid. Nothing to do with you.'
'It makes no difference.' Peter Marlowe's face was granite like his eyes.
'But you must think me a complete shit if you expect me to let you be crucified. And a bigger one if you think I want money from you — when I'd been careless. I'm not taking that from anyone!'
'Sit down a minute. Please.'
'Why?'
'Goddammit, because I want to talk to you.'
Max hesitated at the door with the King's mess cans.
'Excuse me,' he said cautiously, 'here's your chow. You want some tea?'
'No. And Tex gets my soup today.' He took the mess can of rice and put it on the table.
'Okay,' said Max, still hesitating, wondering if the King wanted a hand to beat hell out of the son of a bitch.
'Beat it, Max. And tell the others to leave us alone for a minute.'
'Sure.' Max went out agreeably. He thought the King was very wise to have no witnesses, not when you clobber an officer.
The King looked back at Peter Marlowe. 'I'm asking you. Will you sit down a minute? Please.'
'All right,' said Peter Marlowe stiffly.
'Look,' the King began patiently. 'You got me out of the noose. You helped me — it's only right I help you. I offered you the dough because I wanted to thank you. If you don't want it, fine — but I didn't mean to insult you. If I did, I apologize.'
'Sorry,' Peter Marlowe said, softening. 'I've got a bad temper. I didn't understand.'
The King stuck out his hand. 'Shake on it.'
Peter Marlowe shook hands.
'You don't like Grey, do you?' the King said carefully.
