The Girl Hunters

behind the gigantic framework of that murder factory, a sleep so deep, after so long, that there was nothing I thought about or remembered afterward.

I was alone when the bright shaft of sunlight pouring in the room awakened me. I was stretched out comfortably, my shoes off, my tie loose and a light Indian blanket over me. I threw it off, put my shoes back on and stood up. It took me a while to figure out what was wrong, then I saw the .45 in the shoulder holster draped over the back of a chair with my coat over it and while I was reaching for it she came in with all the exuberance of a summer morning, a tray of coffee in her hands and blew me a kiss.

'Well hello,' I said.

She put the tray down and poured the coffee. 'You were hard to undress.'

'Why bother?'

Laura looked up laughing. 'It's not easy to sleep with a man wearing a gun.' She held out a cup. 'Here, have some coffee. Sugar and milk?'

'Both. And I'm glad it's milk and not cream.'

She fixed my cup, stirring it too. 'You're a snob, Mike. In your own way you're a snob.' She made a face at me and grinned. 'But I love snobs.'

'You should be used to them. You travel in classy company.'

'They aren't snobs like you. They're just scared people putting on a front. You're the real snob. Now kiss me good morning--or afternoon. It's one o'clock.' She reached up offering her mouth and I took it briefly, but even that quick touch bringing back the desire again.

Laura slid her hand under my arm and walked me through the house to the porch and out to the lawn by the pool. The sun overhead was brilliant and hot, the air filled with the smell of the mountains. She said, 'Can I get you something to eat?'

I tightened my arm on her hand. 'You're enough for right now.'

She nuzzled my shoulder, wrinkled her nose and grinned. We both pulled out aluminum and plastic chairs, and while she went inside for the coffeepot I settled down in mine.

Now maybe I could think.

She poured another cup, knowing what was going through my mind. When she sat down opposite me she said, 'Mike, would it be any good to tell me about it? I'm a good listener. I'll be somebody you can aim hypothetical questions at. Leo did this with me constantly. He called me his sounding board. He could think out loud, but doing it alone he sounded foolish to himself so he'd do it with me.' She paused, her eyes earnest, wanting to help. 'I'm yours for anything if you want me, Mike.'

'Thanks, kitten.'

I finished the coffee and put the cup down.

'You're afraid of something,' she said.

'Not of. For. Like for you, girl. I told you once I was a trouble character. Wherever I am there's trouble and when you play guns there are stray shots and I don't want you in the way of any.'

'I've already been there, remember?'

'Only because I wasn't on my toes. I've slowed up. I've been away too damn long and I'm not careful.'

'Are you careful now?'

My eyes reached hers across the few feet that separated us. 'No. I'm being a damn fool again. I doubt if we were tailed here, but it's only a doubt. I have a gun in the house, but we could be dead before I reached it.'

She shrugged unconcernedly. 'There's the shotgun in the bathhouse.'

'That's still no good. It's a pro game. There won't be any more second chances. You couldn't reach the shotgun either. It's around the pool and in the dark.'

'So tell me about it, Mike. Think to me and maybe it will end even faster and we can have ourselves to ourselves. If you want to think, or be mad or need a reaction, think to me.'

I said, 'Don't you like living?'

A shadow passed across her face and the knuckles of her hand on the arms of the chair went white. 'I stopped living when Leo died. I thought I'd never live again.'

'Kid--'

'No, it's true, Mike. I know all the objections you can put up about our backgrounds and present situations but it still doesn't make any difference. It doesn't alter a simple fact that I knew days ago. I fell in love with you, Mike. I took one look at you and fell in love, knowing then that objections would come, troubles would be a heritage and you might not love me at all.'

'Laura--'

'Mike--I started to live again. I thought I was dead and I started to live again. Have I pushed you into anything?'

'No.'

'And I won't. You can't push a man. All you can do is try, but you just can't push a man and a woman should know that. It she can, then she doesn't have a man.'

She waved me to be quiet and went on. 'I don't care how you feel toward me. I hope, but that is all. I'm quite content knowing I can live again and no matter where you are you'll know that I love you. It's a peculiar kind of courtship, but these are peculiar times and I don't care if it has to be like this. Just be sure of one thing. You can have anything you want from me, Mike. Anything. There's nothing you can ask me to do that I won't do. Not one thing. That's how completely yours I am. There's a way to be sure. Just ask me. But I won't push you. If you ask me never to speak of it again, then I'll do that too. You see, Mike, it's a sort of hopeless love, but I'm living again, I'm loving, and you can't stop me from loving you. It's the only exception to what you can ask--I Won't stop loving you.

'But to answer your question, yes, I like living. You brought me alive. I was dead before.'

There was a beauty about her then that was indescribable. I said, 'Anything you know can be too much. You're a target now. I don't want you to be an even bigger one.'

'I'll only die if you die,' she said simply.

'Laura--'

She wouldn't let me finish. 'Mike--do you love me--at all?'

The sun was a honeyed cloud in her hair, bouncing off the deep brown of her skin to bring out the classic loveliness of her features. She was so beautifully deep-breasted, her stomach molding itself hollow beneath the outline of her ribs, the taut fabric of the sleeveless playsuit accentuating the timeless quality that was Laura.

I said, 'I think so, Laura. I don't know for sure. It's just that I--can't tell anymore.'

'It's enough for now,' she said. 'That little bit will grow because it has to. You were in love before, weren't you?'

I thought of Charlotte and Velda and each was like being suddenly shot low down when knowledge precedes breathlessness and you know it will be a few seconds before the real pain hits.

'Yes,' I told her.

'Was it the same?'

'It's never the same. You are--different.'

She nodded. 'I know, Mike. I know.' She waited, then added, 'It will be--the other one--or me, won't it?' There was no sense lying to her.

'That's right.'

'Very well. I'm satisfied. So now do you want to talk to me? Shall I listen for you?'

I leaned back in the chair, let my face look at the sun with my eyes closed and tried to start at the beginning. Not the beginning the way it happened, but the beginning the way I thought it could have happened. It was quite a story. Now I had to see if it made sense.

I said:

'There are only principals in this case. They are odd persons, and out of it entirely are the police and the Washington agencies. The departments only know results, not causes, and although they suspect certain things they are not in a position to be sure of what they do. We eliminate them and get to basic things. They may be speculative, but they are basic and lead to conclusions.

'The story starts at the end of World War I with an espionage team headed by Gerald Erlich who, with others, had visions of a world empire. Oh, it wasn't a new dream. Before him there had been Alexander and Caesar