shadows. Then, to one side, he saw Sulina, caught in the light from the oil lamp, leaning on the window frame. Her sarong was half held against her and she was looking out to sea.
He knew she was looking at him and he wondered, shamed, if she had seen. He watched her and she watched him. Then he saw her take away the sarong and lay it down and pick up a clean white towel to dry the sweat that sheened her body.
She was a child of the sun and a child of the rain. Her long dark hair hid most of her, but she moved it until it caressed her back and she began to braid it. And all the time she watched him, smiling.
Then, suddenly, every flicker of current was a caress, every touch of breeze a caress, every thread of seaweed a caress- fingers of courtesans, crafty with centuries of learning.
I'm going to take you, Sulina.
I'm going to take you, whatever the cost.
He tried to will Sultra to leave the veranda. Sulina watched. And waited.
Impatient as he.
I'm going to take her, Sutra. Don't get in my way! Don't. Or by God…
He did not see the King approaching the shadows or notice him stop with surprise when he saw him lying on his belly in the shallows.
'Hey, Peter. Peter!'
Hearing the voice through the fog, Peter Marlowe turned his head slowly and saw the King beckoning to him.
'Peter, c'mon. It's time to beat it.'
Seeing the King, he remembered the camp and the wire and the radio and the diamond and the camp and the war and the camp and the radio and the guard they had to pass and would they get back in time and what was the news and how happy Mac would be with the three hundred microfarads and the spare radio that worked. The man-heat vanished. But the pain remained.
He stood up and walked for his clothes.
'You got a nerve,' the King said.
'Why?'
'Walking about like that. Can't you see Sutra's girl looking at you?'
'She's seen plenty of men without clothes and there's nothing wrong with that.' Without the heat there was no nakedness.
'Sometimes I don't understand you. Where's your modesty?'
'Lost that a long time ago.' He dressed quickly and joined the King in the shadows. His loins ached violently. 'I'm glad you came along when you did. Thanks.'
'Why?'
'Oh, nothing.'
'You scared I'd forgotten you?'
Peter Marlowe shook his head. 'No. Forget it. But thanks.'
The King studied him, then shrugged. 'C'mon. We can make it easy now.'
He led the way past Sutra's hut and waved. 'Salamat.'
'Wait, Rajah. Won't be a second!'
Peter Marlowe ran up the stairs and into the hut. The radio was still there.
Holding it under his arm, wrapped in the cloth, he bowed to Sutra.
'I thank thee. It is in good hands.'
'Go with god.' Sutra hesitated, then smiled. 'Guard thy eyes, my son.
Lest when there is food for them, thou canst not eat.'
'I will remember.' Peter Marlowe felt suddenly hot. I wonder if the stories are true, that the ancients can read thoughts from time to time. 'I thank thee. Peace be upon thee.'
'Peace be upon thee until our next meeting.'
Peter Marlowe turned and left. Sulina was at her window as they passed underneath it. Her sarong covered her now. Their eyes met and caught and a compact was given and received and returned. She watched as they shadowed up the rise towards the jungle and she sent her safe wishes on them until they disappeared.
Sutra sighed, then noiselessly went into Sulina's room. She was standing at the window dreamily, her sarong around her shoulders. Sutra had a thin bamboo in his hands and he cut her neatly and hard, but not too hard, across her bare buttocks.
'That is for tempting the Englishman when I had not told thee to tempt him,' he said, trying to sound very angry.
'Yes, Father,' she whimpered, and each sob was a knife in his heart. But when she was alone, she curled luxuriously on the mattress and let the tears roll a little, enjoying them. And the heat spread through her, helped by the sting of the blow.
When they were about a mile from the camp, the King and Peter Marlowe stopped for a breather. It was then that the King noticed for the first time the small bundle wrapped in cloth.
He had been leading the way, and so concentrated had he been on the success of the night's work, and so watchful of the darkness against possible danger, that he had not noticed it before.
