The King was delighted with the effect of his surprise. 'Told you, Tex,' he grinned. 'You owe me a buck.'
Mac reached out and touched the meat. 'Mahlu. It's real.'
Larkin touched the meat. 'I'd forgotten what meat looked like,' he said in a voice hushed with awe. 'My bloody oath, you're a genius. Genius.'
'It's my birthday. So I figured we'd have a celebration. And I've got this,'
the King said, holding up a bottle.
'What is it?'
'Sake!'
'I don't believe it,' Mac said. 'Why, there's the whole hindquarters of a pig here.' He bent forward and sniffed it. 'My God, it's real, real, real, and fresh as a day in May, hurray!'
They all laughed.
'Better lock the door, Tex.' The King turned to Peter Marlowe. 'Okay, partner?'
Peter Marlowe was still staring at the meat. 'Where the hell did you get it?'
'Long story!' The King took out a knife and scored the meat, then deftly broke the small hindquarters into two joints and put them into the stewpan.
They all watched, fascinated, as he added a quantity of salt, adjusted the pan to the absolute center of the hot plate, then sat back on the concrete bed and crossed his legs. 'Not bad, huh?'
For a long time no one spoke.
A sudden twist of the door handle broke the spell. The King nodded to Tex, who unlocked the door, opened it a fraction, then swung it wide.
Brough entered.
He looked around astonished. Then noticed the stove. He went over and peered into the stewpot. 'I'll be goddamned!'
The King grinned. 'It's my birthday. Thought I'd invite you to dinner.'
'You got yourself a guest.' Brough stuck out his hand to Larkin. 'Don Brough, Colonel.'
'Grant's my Christian name! You know Mac and Peter?'
'Sure.' Brough grinned at them and turned to Tex. 'Hi, Tex!'
'Good to see you, Don.'
The King motioned to the bed. 'Take a seat, Don. Then we got to go to work!'
Peter Marlowe wondered why it was that American enlisted men and officers called themselves by Christian names so easily. It didn't sound cheap or unctuous — it seemed almost correct — and he had noticed that Brough was always obeyed as their leader even though they all called him Don to his face. Remarkable.
'What's this work jazz?' asked Brough.
The King pulled out some strips of blankets. 'We're going to have to seal the door.'
'What?' Larkin said incredulously.
'Sure,' the King said. 'When this begins cooking, we're liable to have us a riot on our hands. The guys start smelling this, Chrissake, figure for yourselves. We could get torn apart. This was the only place I could figure where we could cook in private. The smell will mostly go out the window. If we seal the door good, that is. We couldn't cook it outside, that's for sure.'
'Larkin was right,' said Mac solemnly. 'You're a genius. I'd never have thought of it. Believe me,' he added laughing, 'Americans, henceforth, are amongst my friends!'
'Thanks, Mac. Now we'd better do it.'
The King's guest took the strips of blanket and stuffed them in the cracks around the door and covered the barred peephole in the door. When they had finished the Kong inspected their work.
'Good,' he said. 'Now, what about the window?'
They looked up at the little barred section of sky, and Brough said, 'Leave it open until the stew really begins to boil. Then we'll cover it and stand it as long as we can. Then we can open it up for a while.' He looked around.
'I figure it might be all right to let the perfume out sporadically. Like an Indian smoke signal.'
'Is there any wind?'
'Goddamned if I noticed. Anyone?'
'Hey Peter, give me a lift up, laddie,' said Mac. Mac was the smallest of the men, so Peter Marlowe let him stand on his shoulders. Mac peered through the bars, then licked his finger and held it out.
'Hurry up, Mac, for God's sake — you're no chicken, you know!' Peter Marlowe called out.
'Got to test for wind, you young bastard!' And again he licked his finger and held it out, and he looked so intent and so ridiculous that Peter Marlowe began laughing, and Larkin joined in, and they doubled up and Mac fell down six feet and grazed his leg on the concrete bed and began cursing.
'Look at my bloody leg, blast you,' Mac said, choking. It was only a little graze, but there was a trickle of blood. 'I bloody near scraped the skin off the whole bloody thing.'
'Look, Peter,' groaned Larkin, holding his stomach, 'Mac's got blood. I always thought he had only latex in his veins!'
