Bill the drug supplier, to this ruin? I almost joined in her wailing from self-pity.
“Let me out. I’ll get Bill. He’ll bring you your, er, tablets. Honest, love.”
She flailed against the cabin door in some sort of epilepsy. Why had I let her lean against the damned door, trapping me like this? I reached for a towel by the bedside, scattering syringes, silver foil, and rolled it under her head. I vaguely knew there was something about an epileptic’s tongue, but what?
Gradually she quietened. I was drenched in sweat, breathing hard.
“They won’t even let me play the Game,” she whimpered. “Just because I’ve a small habit. Who hasn’t, Lovejoy?”
“Mmmh,” I said. “Rotten sods.”
She sobbed uncontrollably. “Now I’ll be out of the California Game. It happened before.” Her voice crescendoed. “They’ll not let me to LA.”
I tried to step over her towards the door but she clutched my leg. “They wouldn’t do a thing like that. I’ll ask them —”
“Fix me, Lovejoy.” She tried a smile. A pathetic eager grin for a horror film. “I’ll be nice for you. Ask Bill. I’ll do anything ifn you make me sing.”
I was worn out. The cabin was insufferably hot. There must be something stupendous in drugs to reduce a complete human to this. She’d nearly been exquisite two hours since.
“Right!” I said brightly. “I’ll get the, er, tablets for you. I have nine, maybe a dozen. Just let me pass…” All the time I was pushing the bloody button and not one of the idle bitches was coming. I’d belt the lazy cows.
She started her retching, holding on. I got a hand on the door latch, but made it no further, frantically started knocking on the panel calling out Blanche’s name, bawling for Tye Dee, anybody for God’s sake. She hung on, weeping and stinking, babbling not to leave her like this, promising anything.
“I’ll get you a place in the Game, Lovejoy,” she wheedled, her aghast ravaged face staring up at me. “I’ll fund you!”
“Help!” I bawled, sick and shaking almost as bad as she was. “Blanche, for Christ’s sake —”
The door handle turned, and Blanche came whizzing in, forcing the girl bodily up from the floor in an amazing display of strength. Tye crowded in after. I reeled out.
“Where the hell have you been?” I yelled. “I’ve been pressing that frigging button and knocking the bloody door for six hours, while you idle gets sat on your fat arses and —”
Tye clamped a hand over my mouth and hauled me along to the next cabin. He slammed me in and shut the door.
“You call yourself a friend?” I was yelling. “Leaving me —”
“Shtum, Lovejoy.” He listened. The faint thumping from the adjacent room quietened, stilled. He relaxed, sat on the bunk.
I went to the bathroom, washed my hands and face, sniffing at my clothes for traces of Kelly… and noticed that Tye wore only trousers and a gaping shirt. He was barefoot. My hands in the basin’s warm water, I stared at my reflection. Come to think of it, Blanche had hardly been what you might call eminently presentable, either. She’d looked just rising from a good night’s, ah, rest.
Tye was pulling on socks, fumbling for shoes beneath the bed. Silk stockings were draped on a chair. The bed linen was disordered. A hard day’s night had been had by all. I straightened, found a towel.
“No wonder you were slow coming,” I said evenly.
He cocked an ear, nodded as a buzzer sounded three faint zeds. “We have to talk.”
Blanche entered. She was pale under her dark skin, almost purple around the eyes. Lovely, but scared and looking at Tye for direction. She carried a small tray holding a syringe, needles, ampoules. They made me feel queasy.
“I’ve fixed her good, Tye,” she said in a wobbly voice. She looked in a worse state than me. Partners in paradise, while I’d been in hell next door.
“You’d better know something, Lovejoy,” Tye said. “All that went on in Kelly Palumba’s cabin’ll be taped, sound and video.”
“Thank God for that!” I said vehemently. “It’ll prove she dragged me in. When Nicko and Gina see the tape they’ll see I was bawling my head off for you two…”
Aha. I paused, looked from Blanche to Tye.
“You see the problem, Lovejoy.”
Blanche was finishing dressing, I tried not to see her lovely legs sheathing into her silks. Tye stood, buttoning his collar.
“Aye.” And I did. The camera record would show me all innocent, trying to cope with the sick lass—and it would reveal that Tye and Blanche were in dereliction of duty. “You two’ll get your wrists slapped?”
“Sort of, Lovejoy.”
“But this…” Like a fool I glanced about the cabin, as if bugging devices would be in view and clearly labelled.
Blanche answered, doing her hair at the mirror. “I have an arrangement with the recordist, Lovejoy. To default the circuits.”
She evaded my eyes in the mirror. Well, she had powers of persuasion any electrician would accede to.
Tye spoke, fastening his holster. I watched, amazed. It was the first real holster I’d ever seen. I’d no idea they were so bulky. However did undercover agents manage?
“We can erase Kelly Palumba’s, Lovejoy.”
Into the ensuing silence Blanche spoke softly. “If you stay quiet, Lovejoy.”
Now her eyes met mine. It wasn’t a simple threat. It was more like, well, a country woman’s promise of coming weather, certain it would come but hoping for maximum clemency. A rainstorm, we’d all get soaked.
“What’s the risk to me?” I was conscious I was missing some sort of opportunity, but was too feeble-minded to think it through. “I’ve promised loyalty to Gina all sorts of ways.”
“Haven’t we all, Lovejoy?” Tye donned his jacket. He looked surprisingly neat, if a trifle bulky. So those holsters were tailored! The things you learn.
“There’ll be no comeback from Gina,” Blanche said. “Where’s the harm in a little fun?” She did that erotic magic with lipstick that always makes me swallow and think hard unyielding thoughts. She smiled to herself. And Tye smiled too.
“Everybody needs a little fun now and then. Right?”
I swallowed. “Right, right.”
That was where we left it, we of the good ship Gina, me going to change into clean gear then totter along to the galley for a nosh, Tye strolling to resume his patrol, Blanche staring at her reflection slowly sucking her lips in to even her lipstick. And the drugged girl somewhere in that chemical paradise from which few travellers ever really return.
CHAPTER TEN
« ^ »
IT WAS Chanel who came to tell me I was wanted. I liked Chanel. She was personal maid to Mrs. Melodie van Cordlant, my one-cent lucky lady. I’d have stayed in the galley to explain that eating was a good means of preventing starvation, but it’d have been no good.
I climbed to the next deck. Think of what that poor Kelly had told me. What was it? They wouldn’t even let her to LA, for the California Game. She tried bribing me with her poor ravaged body, just like she’d paid Mr Squeaky Clean Bill for providing her drugs.
Weird words.
The poor lass was just demented—or else she was also addicted to gambling. I knocked at the door Chanel had told me: the long conference cabin. I was glad I’d donned clean and was scented like a rose garden. Maybe this was my reward, Gina wreaking her unsated lust on my poor defenceless frame?
The long boardroom was empty. A few papers were strewn here and there, crumples being fed into a portable shredder by Blanche and two stewardesses. Gina reclined, good enough to eat.
“Yes, Gina?” I said, all confidence and intimacy.