He turned quickly and saw me. His cap fell off. Golden hair flowed out around his throat.
It was Tina Bergson!
I was so stunned I could not think.
But then my brain recapitulated the entire story without any prompting.
Tina!
It was not her body in the red Jaguar.
It had to be Elena Morales's. I saw it now. I saw Elena go into Parson's room, and find Parson's dead body where we had left it. And I saw her inside the room — with Tina Bergson already there! Tina had come up to Sol y Nieve to find Parson and direct him to Corelli to kill him. And she had found Parson dead — before Elena came up to the room. So she had called down to the lounge to bring Elena up. And Elena had come, directed by the message.
Tina had forced Elena out onto the balcony and down to the red Jaguar — because now she knew that Elena was Corelli's eyes and ears. She put her in the Jaguar and killed her. In the horseshoe turn, out of sight, she placed Elena behind the wheel, started up the Jaguar with a ski boot or something heavy holding down the gas pedal, and jumped free herself.
And escaped in the dark even though I had come along right after her.
And now…
Now she had come to kill Corelli and take over the drug chain herself — as she had always wanted to do!
I saw Corelli rise again and stare at Tina. Tina fired once again at me. I returned her fire. I was too far away to do any good.
She looked at me, and then at Corelli, and then started on foot across the snow toward Corelli. He was frantically trying to get himself out of the snow and down the slope. Like many men involved in extremely dangerous professions, he apparently did not like to carry a weapon on his own person.
She floundered purposefully toward him in her ski boots, holding her weapon poised high in the air.
The snow was frozen hard around the mogul. I could see it crackling with tension at the top of the slope that formed a rounded contour, slanting down toward the bottom of the field.
I moved back and aimed the Luger down into the snow and fired once, twice, three times. The shots echoed in the air. The snow flew in all directions. There was a splitting crack, and the entire slab of snow and ice began to go — parting company with the upper half of the mogul that had grounded me.
It moved fast once it started. Slide!
She saw it coming but she was unable to escape it. She fired at Corelli two times and then started to run toward him, out of the way of the snow slide, but it caught her and carried her on down with it. I saw her yellow hair vanish in the stuff.
Then the snow piled up and began to disintegrate against the rocks of the spine as it came to rest with a smash and a roar.
I got my skis together and moved slowly down to Corelli.
He was lying on his side bleeding in the snow.
I came up to him. His face was white with pain and his eyes were unfocused. He was going into shock.
"Destroy the chain!" he whispered to me.
I lifted his head out of the snow. "I will, Rico."
It was the first time I had called him by his first name.
He slumped back, a faint smile on his lips.
Sixteen
I pushed his eyelids closed.
I helped the Guardia Civil take care of Corelli's body and then left on my skis as some men with shovels began digging for Tina Bergson. I drew aside the man with the Fu Manchu mustache and informed him of Barry Parson's sad end.
It was pleasant under the shower to soak off all the strain and the tension of this Spanish Connection business. I toweled in my room preparatory to dressing and knocking for Juana Rivera. It was time I told her the last chapter of the story and started with her on the road to Malaga.
I checked my Luger in the shoulder holster hung over the bedpost, and reached for my robe. Since my feet were dry I taped on the stiletto and shrugged into the cool terrycloth. The mirror in the bathroom was clouded but I managed to comb my hair. I checked again and found that the strands of gray had not reappeared after I had pulled them out the week before.
I knew I would see more of them, not less, in the future.
My bags were all packed — I had done that before climbing in the shower — and I debated putting on my clothes before knocking for Juana, and then I thought, what the hell, and strode over to the door and tapped with my bare knuckles.
"Come in," I heard her say in a muffled voice.
"Are you ready?"
There was no answer.
I opened the door and walked in.
The door closed behind me and I turned in surprise to find Juana in a chair facing me. She was completely naked, with a handkerchief tied around her mouth and her hands spliced together behind her back and tied to the chair. Her legs were fastened to the legs of the chair. She was staring at me with mute, imploring eyes.
I reached back for the door knob.
"No, no, Nick!" a voice said softly.
The drapes near the window shimmered and Tina Bergson stepped out from behind them, holding a gun in her hand. It seemed enormous — for her. It was Parsons Webley Mark IV. She was dressed in ski clothes — the same outfit she had worn on the slope. She was wet and cold, but otherwise quite herself. Her eyes were burning with a land of frenzy.
"Hello, Nick," she said with an amused laugh.
"Tina," I said.
"Yes. I did not die in that avalanche you started."
"So I see."
I turned and glanced at Juana's naked body once again. It was then that I saw the cigarette burns on her naked breast. I shuddered. There were sadomasochistic strains in Tina Bergson, possibly the lesbian tendencies that had been channelized into nymphomania.
"You're sick, Tina," I said softly. "What good does it do to hurt people like Juana?"
Tina exploded. "Rico was a fool to try to break up the drug chain! He had the best money-making scheme in the world — and he wanted to get rid of it!"
"But it killed his daughter."
Tina sneered. "That daughter had become a slut just like all women — having every male at that silly college she went to."
"In your imagination only, Tina," I said. "You need a shrink."
She threw back her head and laughed. "You're a puritan, Nick! You know that? A puritan!"
I thought of the shoulder holster hanging on the bedpost in my room and cursed myself for being a stupid fool. I never go anywhere without it. All because of a silly sentimental interest in Juana Rivera I had exposed myself to death.
"Give me the microfilm, Nick," said Tina, moving away from the drapes where she had been waiting for me. "I saw you with Rico. You must have it. Give it to me or I'll kill you."
"No deal, Tina," I said. "If I hand over the film, you'll kill the two of us and go."
"No," Tina said, her eyes bright. "I don't care what you and the bitch do. You can leave and fly back to the States, for all I care. I just want the microfilm and I'll let you go."
I shook my head. "No way, baby."
Her eyes were bright and as blue as glacier ice. I thought of Scandinavian fjords, and grues of ice. And I thought of that beautiful body under those ski clothes.
Tina pointed the heavy British Webley toward Juana. I watched her with a fascination that was almost sickening. Juana's eyes rolled around fearfully. I could see her trembling. Tears began to slide down her cheeks.
"You're a monster," I said calmly. "Do you hear me, Tina? You could have taken me on, and not tormented Juana. What kind of an inhuman thing are you?"
Tina shrugged. "I'll kill her at the count of three if you don't deliver those films to me, Nick."
"I don't have the film," I said quickly. Suddenly, out of the blue, I had a plan. I wanted her to think I was protesting too much.