There was a cough at the door to the bedroom. They all turned. Douglas King stood there in robe and pajamas. He was unshaven and his eyes were rimmed with red, but there was a cold deadly purposefulness to his stance. He stood in the doorframe like a specter suddenly materialized. He issued his single cough and then said nothing, simply standing there and staring into the room.
“Good morning, Doug,” Cameron said. “Sleep well?”
“No, I didn’t sleep well.”
“God, you look awful, Doug,” Liz said.
“I’m supposed to look awful, didn’t you know? My sins are all catching up with me. I’m a cruel, heartless bastard, that’s me,” King paused. “What are you doing here so early?”
“I called her last night, Doug,” Diane said. “I’m taking Bobby there.”
“All ready for the big Sinking Ship scene, huh? Women and children first.” He turned to Cameron. “When are you leaving, Pete?”
“What?”
“I said when are you leaving?”
“Well, I… I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know? What plane are you on?”
“I didn’t make a reservation,” Cameron said.
“Why not?”
“I thought…”
“It’s not your job to think. I told you to get a reservation, didn’t I? I gave you a check to deliver, didn’t I?”
“Yes, but… I didn’t know whether you still wanted me to.”
“Nothing’s changed. Get downstairs and call the airport.” Cameron nodded and left the room.
Resignedly, Diane said, “I guess I’d better finish packing, Liz.”
King stared at her for a moment and then went out of the room and downstairs. Cameron was already on the telephone.
“Eastern Airlines, please,” he said. “Hello? I’d like to make a reservation for your first available flight to Boston. This morning.” He paused. “Yes. This morning. Yes, I’ll wait.” He cupped the mouthpiece and turned to King. “They’re checking it, Doug.”
“You should have taken care of this last night.”
“You going to let them kill that boy, Doug?” King opened his mouth, ready to answer, and Cameron turned back to the phone. “Hello? Yes, Twelve noon? Hold on a minute, will you?” He cupped the mouthpiece again. “Earliest flight is twelve noon. The others are filled.”
“Book it,” King said.
“All right, would you list me, please?” Cameron said into the phone. “Mr. Peter Cameron. That’s C as in Charlie, a-m-e-r-o-n. Cameron. I’ve got a U-card, would you please—Yes, it’s listed for Granger Shoe Company… That’s right, Granger with a G… Check-in time is what?… All right, thank you.” He hung up and then turned to face King. “Okay,” he said, “we just chopped off Jeffry Reynolds’ head.”
“Cut it out.”
“It’s true, isn’t it?”
“I said cut it out!”
“You are killing an eight-year-old boy, aren’t you?”
“Yes, yes. I’m killing an eight-year-old boy—all right? I drink the blood of infants—all right? Don’t you like what I’m doing? If you don’t, pack your bag with the rest and get the hell out!”
“Now hold it a minute, Doug. There’s no reason to—”
“I don’t need any reason for anything! I’m just a ruthless, filth-clogged machine, and if you don’t like my smell, you can leave with the rest of them!”
“Well, I guess that’s putting it pretty plainly.”
“That’s putting it pretty goddamn plainly, if you ask me. Make up your mind.”
“I still say it’s murder,” Cameron said.
“Okay. If you think so, fine. I don’t need men around me who—”
“Doug, listen to me. If our relationship has ever meant anything to you, for God’s sake listen to me! Let the deal go! Save that kid! He’s a young, defenseless child! You can’t just…”
“When did you start loving young, defenseless children?”
“Aw, Doug, everybody loves kids! God, you can’t be that—”
“And especially Pete Cameron, huh? The big child-lover. Don’t you know this Boston deal will help you, too? Surely you know that, Pete. Hasn’t any of my cold-hearted business acumen rubbed off on you after all these years?”
“Sure, I know it. But…”
“But it doesn’t matter, huh? You love kids that much, do you? You love little runny-nosed Jeff Reynolds so much that Pete Cameron’s career doesn’t matter. Well, that’s interesting. That’s pretty damn interesting.”
“I’m not saying he matters more than my career, Doug. I’m saying…”
“Just what the hell are you saying?” Doug shouted, and the room went silent.
“Well…”
“Well?”
“I’m saying a boy’s life is important.”
“But more important than this deal, right?”
“No, not more important, but…”
“More important or less important? Which?”
“Well, when you put it that way, I suppose…”
“If I pay the ransom, the deal falls flat on its face. Now do you want the deal to collapse, or don’t you? What’s the matter, Pete? I’ve never seen you tongue-tied before. Does murder startle you?”
“No, no, it’s just that…”
“Do you want this deal to fold, or don’t you? Answer me.”
“No, I don’t,” Cameron said.
“Then why are you so interested in the welfare of Jeffry Reynolds? When did you get so fatherly, Pete? I’m wondering when you got so ninety-nine per cent paternal?”
“It’s for the boy,” Cameron said. “How can we stand by and let a young, defenseless—”
“If you give me that young, defenseless child crap again, I’ll puke! What is it, Pete? What’s the real reason?” King paused. A crafty glint touched his eyes. “You got something of your own cooking? Is that it?”
“What? Me? Someth—Me?”
“Well, now,” King said. He moved a little closer to Cameron, a cold smile twisting his mouth. “Well, now. Now we’re getting close, huh? Now we’re…”
“Doug, don’t be silly.”
“Why’d you call Benjamin yesterday? And never mind the Far Eastern Brocade baloney! What are you planning with him?”
“Me? Nothing. Doug, don’t be ridiculous. I wouldn’t plan anything with Benjamin.”
“Who would you plan something with?”
“Nobody.” Cameron laughed feebly. “Nobody, Doug.”
“Did you tell Benjamin about this Boston deal?”
“Boston? Why, no. No.”
“Then why’d you call him?”