Web was all suave manners. He took Kim's hand and said, "I've admired you from afar for quite some time, Mrs. Steward."
Kim didn't know what to say and thus didn't say anything. She didn't care if they thought her rude. She was not going to invite them to stay.
"What do you say to an admirer?" Nichole asked, a taunt in her voice.
"Thank you," Kim was curt.
"I even admired your pictures," Web spoke in such a quiet voice that for a second, Kim felt she had misunderstood. "I admired your pictures very much. You have a lovely body."
The red haired housewife stood with an open mouth. She didn't know what to say or think. Astounded, unbelieving, she turned and stared at Nichole, only then comprehending. Nichole smiled weakly. "Why?" Kim asked, "why are you doing this to me?"
"You'll find out," Nichole said with a glance at Hardman.
For the first time, Kim felt sorry for Nichole. It was a hell of a time to feel sorry, but Nichole's look had told her so much. Instinctively, she turned to Web Hardman, knowing now that he was the man behind the entire thing. Her chin was defiant as she asked, "How much?"
Web looked puzzled.
"How much for the pictures and negatives? I ready don't have much money."
"Money?" Web snorted and his cruel laughter rang through the cottage and sent a chill up the spine of both the girls. "Money?" he asked, deriding, "my dear girl, I've spent – and made – more money in one hour than you'll probably see in your lifetime. Money? It isn't money that I want."
It was as if her feeling of dread reached its climax at that moment; as if she suddenly knew what it was she was fearing… what she had dreaded ad these days.
Web walked around her, looking at her voluptuous young body as if she were a spirited racehorse he was about to buy. "If you want those negatives, you will come to my house tomorrow evening. If you don't come, the pictures will be spread all over town and most of California by the following morning."
"And what do you expect me to do at your house?"
Web smiled. Nichole shuddered, knowing what the smile meant. "You win entertain me."
"And if I refuse?"
"I've told you the consequences."
"I refuse," Kim was resolute. He had to be bluffing. Yet, he didn't panic. He shrugged, touching the knot of his gray tie with manicured fingers.
"Very well. By the way, I've been watching you for some time. I could give you a list of the people you see."
Kim was puzzled by the way he changed the conversation.
"I notice you never visit your husband's parents."
Kim froze.
"They're almost neighbors of mine. Moreover," he went on, smiling, smooth, "I notice they never seem to visit you."
For the first time, Kim lost her composure. She looked imploringly at Nichole who offered no help.
"I wonder what they will say when they get a set of glossy eight-by-tens of you in action? I wonder how they will react?"
"You… you – filthy bastard!"
Web shook a finger like he was cautioning a child. "I've been called worse names by experts. Nichole can tell you. She can also tell you that each name you call me, each evidence of hostility on your part will only end up costing you more. Right now, I'm willing to give you the pictures in return for an evening of… shall we say, fun? Any more impudence or insult from you will cost you dearly."
Kim shook her head in disbelief. "You went to all these lengths? You're crazy, you're in…"
She never got to finish her statement. Web's hand few through the air almost too fast to follow. There was a loud crack, and Kim's head spun and she saw stars as the pain sponged in deep. She staggered under the impact of the blow, then staggered more under the impact of hate that spat out from Web Hardman. "Don't you ever say that again!" His face was livid as he shot the words out, his fists raised. "You'll pay for that!" he screamed, "you'll pay for saying such a thing, my dear!"
Kim shrank back from him, truly afraid. Even Nichole moved nervously aside.
He stalked to the door, glared at Nichole who followed him, swung the door open, and looked back. "There will be a car here for you tomorrow night at eight. You had better be in it. If not," his voice rose to a malicious ringing quality, "a copy of those pictures will be on their way to your husband. Another copy will go to his parents. A third set will go to the Chief of Police here in Carmel."
The door slammed and Kim found herself alone again. She knew what was happening. Now, instinctively, she understood a lot about poor Nichole. And herself! She had to plan. She had until the following night to plan.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The car, a Mercedes, was right on time and the driver was none other than Klaus! Kim turned a deep crimson when she saw him, but he was all manners and made no allusion to their night in San Francisco.
They drove through the quiet streets of Carmel with Kim looking out the window and wondering what was in store for her. At the guarded gates of Pebble Beach, the old guard in the toll house waved them on. They drove past the stately mansions of Pebble Beach, passing Hank's parents' house on their way. Kim wanted so much to stop the car, run into their house and tell them she was in trouble. The car moved on, past the Beach Club and past the Del Monte Lodge itself where the rich and famous came to play and vacation. At last they came to a tall fence with barbed wire around the top. At an electronic signal, the gate swung open and the car turned noiselessly in.
They drove down a tree-lined drive until they sighted the house. It was a rich house, a sumptuous home, typical of the tasteful, elegant edifices that dotted Pebble Beach. It was also isolated and, as Kim noticed, the grounds were patrolled by uniformed men. Web Hardman obviously was a wealthy man.
Inside the house, she was treated as if she were a visiting personality. She was shown into an underground bar and "rumpus room" that was the like of none she had ever seen before. At one end of the big room was a raised platform with a jet-black curtain as a back drop. At the moment she entered, Nichole was on the platform or stage with her back to them, directing the placing of large mirrors. She turned, a drink in her hand, when she heard them, and sad drunkenly, "Oh, hi, jus' in time for the lit ole party!"
One look was enough to tell Kim that the brunette was smashed. Well, Nichole obviously wouldn't be any help tonight. She looked around, wondering exactly what they were planning to do to her. Obviously, they were going to try to get her up on that stage. As she watched, Klaus and Ernie – Ernie still cynical and leering – carried a broad black couch out on the stage and placed it in the center of the mirrors.
Web entered dressed in a smoking jacket and ascot tie, rubbing his bands together. "How good of you to come, dear Kim. I can't tell you how I've looked forward to your coming! Well, shall we begin?"
With those chill words, Kim was launched on the strangest experience of her life. She smiled noncommittally at Web, determined to humor him, not wanting him to get into a rage again.
"Up on the stage my dear," Web said, showing the way.
He helped the voluptuous red haired young wife up on the sage with an assist from Ernie. Nichole stared at her and shrugged, making a face. "Wish I was you," she said, slurring her words. "You're going to luv it!"
"That will be all for you, Nichole," Web said, seating himself front row center and clapping his hands. "Wander off and drown yourself someplace. It's time for my little diversion to begin! Where is Klaus?"
"Here," the German said with his Prussian accent, stepping out from behind the curtain.
"Very well, begin." Web settled back in his chair as Nichole climbed off the stage, almost losing her balance, and wandered drunkenly to the rear where she stood at the bar and poured herself another drink. Web touched a portable console at his side. The lights dimmed. "Begin."
"Not so fast." Kim's words stopped everyone. "Where are the pictures? Where are the negatives?"