She sprang up from the couch. “You creep!” she screamed. “How dare you!”
“What the fuck is going on?” he said, but the pretense was thin. She could tell from his face that he knew exactly what was happening.
“Get out of my place!” she screamed.
He tried to keep up the facade. “First you’re all over me, then you pull this!”
“I know who you are, you bastard. You’re Harvey!”
He gave up his act. “How did you know?”
“You touched your eyebrow with your fingertip, just like Berrington.”
“Well, what does it matter?” he said, standing up. “If we’re so alike, you could pretend I’m Steve.”
“Get the fuck out of here!”
He touched the front of his pants, showing her his erection. “Now that we’ve got this far, I’m not leaving here with blue balls.”
He stepped toward her, smiling. “I’m going to take off those tight jeans and see what’s underneath.”
She remembered Mish saying that rapists enjoy the victim’s fear. “I’m not afraid of you,” she said, trying to make her voice calm. “But if you touch me, I swear I’ll kill you.”
He moved dreadfully quickly. In a flash he grabbed her, lifted her, and threw her on the floor.
The phone rang.
She screamed: “Help! Mr. Oliver! Help!”
Harvey snatched up the dishcloth from the kitchen counter and stuffed it roughly into her mouth, bruising her lips. She gagged and began to cough. He held her wrists so that she could not use her hands to pull the cloth out of her mouth. She tried to push it out with her tongue, but she could not, it was too big. Had Mr. Oliver heard her scream? He was old and he turned up the volume of his TV very loud.
The phone kept on ringing.
Harvey grabbed the waist of her jeans. She wriggled away from him. He slapped her face so hard she saw stars. While she was dazed, he let go of her wrists and pulled off her jeans and her panties. “Wow, what a hairy one,” he said.
Jeannie snatched the cloth out of her mouth and screamed: “Help me, help!”
Harvey covered her mouth with his big hand, muffling her yells, and fell on her, knocking the wind out of her. For a few moments she was helpless, struggling to breathe. His knuckles bruised her thighs as he fumbled one- handed with his fly. Then he was pushing against her, looking for the way in. She wriggled desperately, trying to throw him off, but he was too heavy.
The phone was still ringing. Then the doorbell rang too.
Harvey did not stop.
Jeannie opened her mouth. Harvey’s fingers slid between her teeth. She bit down hard, as hard as she could, thinking that she did not care if she broke her teeth on his bones. Warm blood spurted into her mouth and she heard him cry out in anguish as he jerked his hand away.
The doorbell rang again, long and insistently.
Jeannie spat out Harvey’s blood and yelled again. “Help!” she screamed. “Help, help, help!”
There was a loud bang from downstairs, then another, then a crash and the sound of wood splintering.
Harvey scrambled to his feet, clutching his wounded hand.
Jeannie rolled over, stood up, and took three steps away from him.
The door flew open. Harvey swung around, turning his back on Jeannie.
Steve burst in.
Steve and Harvey stared at one another in astonishment for a frozen moment.
They were exactly the same. What would happen if they fought? They were equal in height, weight, strength and fitness. A fight could go on forever.
On impulse, Jeannie picked up the omelet pan with both hands. Imagining that she was hitting a cross-court ground shot with her famous double-handed backhand, she shifted her weight to her front foot, locked her wrists, and swung the heavy pan with all her might.
She hit the back of Harvey’s head right on the sweet spot.
There was a sickening thud. Harvey’s legs seemed to go soft. He sank to his knees, swaying.
As if she had run to the net for the volley, Jeannie lifted the pan high with her right hand and brought it down as hard as she could on top of his head.
His eyes rolled up and he went limp and crashed to the floor.
Steve said: “Boy, am I glad you didn’t hit the wrong twin.”
Jeannie started to shake. She dropped the pan and sat on a kitchen stool. Steve put his arms around her. “It’s over,” he said.
“No, it’s not,” she replied. “It’s only just begun.”
The phone was still ringing.
57
“YOU LAID HIM OUT, THE BASTARD,” STEVE SAID. “WHO is he?”
‘This is Harvey Jones,” Jeannie answered. “And he’s Berrington Jones’s son.”
Steve was amazed. “Berrington brought up one of the eight as his son? Well, I’ll be damned.”
Jeannie stared at the unconscious figure on the floor. “What are we going to do?”
“For a start, why don’t we answer the phone?”
Automatically, Jeannie picked it up. It was Lisa. “It almost happened to me,” Jeannie said without preamble.
“Oh, no!”
“The same guy.”
“I can’t believe it! Shall I come right over?”
“Thanks, I’d like that.”
Jeannie hung up. She ached all over from having been thrown to the floor, and her mouth hurt where he had forced the gag in. She could still taste Harvey’s blood. She poured a glass of water, rinsed her mouth, and spat into the kitchen sink. Then she said: “We’re in a dangerous place, Steve. The people we’re up against have powerful friends.”
“I know.”
“They might try to kill us.”
“Tell me about it.”
The notion made it hard for Jeannie to think. I must not become paralyzed by fear, she thought. “Do you think if I promise never to tell what I know, they might leave me alone?”
Steve considered that for a moment, then he said: “No, I don’t.”
“Nor do I. So I’ve got no choice but to fight.”
There was a footstep on the stairs and Mr. Oliver put his head around the door. “What the heck happened here?” he said. He looked from the unconscious Harvey on the floor to Steve and back again. “Well, I’ll be.”
Steve picked up Jeannie’s black Levi’s and handed them to her, and she slipped them on quickly, covering her nakedness. If Mr. Oliver noticed, he was too tactful to say anything. Pointing at Harvey, he said: “This must be that guy in Philadelphia. No wonder you thought it was your boyfriend. They got to be twins!”
Steve said: “I’m going to tie him up before he comes round. Do you have any cord, Jeannie?”
Mr. Oliver said: “I have some electric cable. I’ll get my toolbox.” He went out.
Jeannie hugged Steve gratefully. She felt as if she had awakened from a nightmare. “I thought he was you,” she said. “It was just like yesterday, but this time I wasn’t being paranoid, I was right.”
“We said we should make up a code, then we didn’t get around to it.”
“Let’s do it now. When you approached me on the tennis court last Sunday, you said, I play a little tennis myself.’ “
