It was an eerie sound, without passion or pain, as though steam were escaping from a jet, only just recognizable as human. Johnny went rigid at the sound, and the man on the stairs glanced nervously over his shoulder.
“What have you done to her?” Johnny asked softly, without menace.
. “No. Nothing! She’s on a trip. A bad trip.” The man’s denial was frantic. “It’s her first time on acid.”
“So you’re cleaning the place out, are you?“Johnny asked mildly.
“She owes me plenty. She can’t pay. She promised - and she can’t pay.”
“Oh,” said Johnny. “That’s different. I thought you were hitting the place.” He reached into his overcoat and brought out his wallet, riffling the wad of banknotes. “I’m a friend of hers. How much does she owe you?”
“Fifty nicker.” The man’s eyes sparkled when he saw the wallet. “I gave her credit.” Johnny counted off ten fivers, and held them out. The man dropped the bundle of clothing over the banisters and came eagerly down the last few stairs.
“Did you sell her the stuff - the acid?“Johnny asked, and the man stopped a pace from him, his expression stiffening with suspicion.
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Johnny grinned. “We are not children - I know the score.” He offered the banknotes. “Did you get the stuff for her?” The man grinned back at him weakly, and nodded as he reached for the money. Johnny’s free hand snapped closed on the thin wrist and he swung him off his feet, forcing his wrist up between his shoulder-blades.
Johnny stuffed the money into his pocket, and marched him up the stairs.
“Let’s go and have a look, shall we?” There was a mattress on the iron bedstead covered with a grey army blanket. Tracey sat cross-legged on the blanket.
She wore only a thin cotton slip and her hair hung lank and lustreless to her waist. Her arms crossed over her chest were thin and white as sticks of chalk. Her face also was pale, the skin translucent in the light of the electric bulb.
She was rocking gently back and forth and wailing softly, her breath steaming in the icy cold room.
It was her eyes that shocked Johnny the most. The eye seemed to have expanded to an enormous size, and beneath each was a dark bruised-looking smear. The pupils of the eyes were distended and glittery with the same adamant sheen as uncut diamonds.
The big glittery green eyes fastened on Johnny and the man in the doorway, and the wail rose abruptly to a shriek.
The shriek died away, and she bowed forward and buried her face in her hands, covering her eyes.
“Tracey,” said Johnny softly. “Oh God, Tracey!”
“She’ll be all right,” the man whimpered and twisted in his grip. “It’s the first time - she’ll be all right.”
“Come!” Johnny dragged him out of the room, and pushed the door closed with his foot. He held him against the wall, and his face was set and pale, his eyes merciless - but he spoke quietly, patiently as though he was explaining to a child.
“I’m going to hurt you now. I’m going to hurt you very badly. Just as badly as I can without killing you. Not because I enjoy it, but because that girl is a very special person to me. In the future when you think about giving poison to another girl - I want you to remember what I did to you tonight.” Johnny held him with his left hand against the wall and he used his right hand, punching up under the ribs at an angle to tear the stomach muscles. With three or four blows he was too high, and he felt ribs crack and snap under his fist.
When he stepped back the man sagged slowly face forward, and Johnny caught him cleanly in the mouth snapping his teeth off at the gums, splitting his lips open like the petals of a rose. The man had made a lot of noise.
Johnny looked into Tracey’s room to make sure she had not been disturbed, but she was still bowed forward, rocking rhythmically on her haunches.
He found the bathroom and dampened his handkerchief and wipe the blood off his hands and the front of his overcoat.
He came out into the passage again and stooped over the unconscious body to check the pulse. It was strong and regular, and he felt a lift of relief as he dragg the man’s face out of the puddle of his own blood and vomit to prevent him drowning.
He went through to Tracey and, despite her frantic struggles, wrapped her in the greasy army blanket and carried her down to the Jaguar.
She quietened down and lay like a sleeping child in the back seat while he tucked the blanket round her, then he went back into the house and phoned 999, giving the address and hanging up immediately.
He left Tracey in the car outside the Dorchester, while he went in to speak to the reception clerk. Within minutes Tracey was in a wheelchair on her way up to the two-bedroom suite on the second floor. The doctor was there fifteen minutes later.
After the doctor had gone Johnny bathed, and carrying a tumbler of Chivas Regal in one hand he went into Tracey’s room and stood by her bed. Whatever the doctor had given her had put her out cleanly. She lay gaunt and pale - yet with a strangely fragile beauty that seemed enhanced by the bruised discoloration of her eye sockets.
He stooped to brush the hair from her cheek, and her breath was light and warm on his hand. He felt such an infinity of tenderness for her then as he had never known for any other person, he was amazed by the strength of it.
He stooped over her and gently brushed her lips with his own. Her lips were dry and flaky white, and their touch was harsh as sandpaper.
Johnny straightened up and went to the armchair across the room.
He sank into it wearily, and sipped the whisky, feeling its warmth spread from his belly and untie the knots in his muscles. He watched the pale ruined face on the pillows.
“We are in a hell of a mess, you and I,” he spoke aloud, and felt anger again. For long minutes it was undirected, but slowly it gelled and found an object to focus on.
For the first time in his life he was angry with the Old Man.
“He has brought you to this,” he said to the girl on the bed.
“And me-” The reaction was swift, his loyalty was a thing grown part of his existence. Always he had trained himself to believe that the Old
Man’s machinations were just and wise - even if at times the justice and wisdom were hidden from him. Mortal man does not doubt the omnipotence of his gods.
Sickened by his own treachery, he began to examine the Old Man’s motives and actions under the bright light of reason.
Why had the Old Man sent Michael Shapiro to fetch him out of the desert?
“He wants you in Cape Town, Johnny. Benedict didn’t measure up.
The Old Man has given him the London Office, it’s a form of exile.
He’s picked you to take over the C company,” Michael explained.
“Tracey is out of the way.
She and her husband are in London also. I guess the Old Man thinks it’s safe to have you back in Cape Town now.” Michael watched
Johnny’s undisguised joy and went on slowly.
“I’m speaking out of turn, perhaps. Mr. van der Byl is a strange man. He’s not like other people. I know how you feel about him, I’ve watched it all, you know - but listen, Johnny, you can go anywhere on your own now. There are a lot of other companies that want you-” But he had seen the expression on Johnny’s face, and stopped okay, Johnny.
Forget I ever said it. I only spoke because I like you.” Thinking on it now, there had been substance in Michael’s warning. Certainly he was General Manager of Van Der Byl Diamonds, but he was no nearer to the Old Man than he had ever been. He lived under the mountain but the mountain was remote and he had not been able to scale the lowest slopes.
He had found the city as lonely as the desert, and he was ripe for the first attractive woman who set her snares for him.
Ruby Grange was tall and slim with hair the colour they call “Second Cape” in a diamond, like sunlight
