The Killer Touch (19 page)

Burt looked back along the low cabin. Tracy sat in a corner with her knees under her chin, her gaudy dress pulled down to her ankles. The faint trembling of her shoulders told him she was fighting a silent private battle. Bunny sat across from her in the damp wrinkled suit, her hair like a wet mop atop her skull. Her chic, expensive look was gone; she now looked as beaten as, Tracy. Looking from one to the other, Burt was surprised to see how near Bunny had come to making herself a perfect copy of Tracy. He walked back and knelt in front of Tracy. “There's something you could do,” he said. “It's risky, but it might save the lives of five other people.”

She raised her head and regarded him gravely. “I'll do anything you say. You should know that.”

Her complete trust nearly caused him to abandon his plan, but he had no other. “All right. Change clothes with Bunny. You're going to be a decoy.”

Bunny, with her shapeless polka dot dress a forecast of less colorful but no less shapeless prison garb, was left on Bequia in the custody of a corporal and his six-by-six concrete jail. Sergeant George had exchanged his uniform for the clothes of an island seaman: white canvas trousers cut off at the knees, a sleeveless undershirt, and no shoes.

Burt watched the island draw near in the late afternoon sun. He was relieved to see nobody on the tower; Ace's vigilance must have waned during the long days of solitude. Burt directed Sergeant George to approach the island from the west; the sun would be at their backs, he explained, and a tongue of rocks screened the sea from the clubhouse. He wrapped his gun in oilskin and sat down to remove his sneakers. “I'll be behind them in ten minutes. Tracy, just show your head and shoulders above the cabin. Don't talk!”

“Yes, Burt.” She knelt in the wrinkled suit, smelling faintly of wet wool. She kissed him with lips that were hot and cracked but strangely sweet. “Don't worry about me. Take care of yourself.”

He crawled to the side, slipped over into the water and stroked silently along the rocks. He crawled out onto a hidden patch of sand and unwrapped the gun from its waterproof cocoon. Holding it in his right hand, he crawled through the low bush until he was twenty yards from the beach club. He could hear the low grinding of the boat's diesel engine. He peered out and saw Joss sitting on the steps of the beach club, her face like that of a robot which has been turned off. Coco lay in the sand with his hat over his eyes. Godfrey sat beside him and pulled ravelings from his frayed shorts. Hoke stood behind the bar, his shotgun resting on the polished wood and pointing at Joss's back. Ace walked down to the jetty, shading his eyes and peering toward the sound of the launch.

Burt watched the launch approach the break in the rocks; his stomach sank when he saw how vulnerable Tracy looked in Bunny's suit, like a small girl dressed up to play adult. Burt held his breath, then Ace called over his shoulder. “Okay, Hoke! It's Bunny.”

The big man left the club and walked toward the beach. Burt waited until both men stood on the jetty, then he ran out in front of the club.

“You're covered, Ace! Don't move!”

As though it triggered a reflex action, Ace doubled over and swung his gun around. Before he completed the half-turn, Burt fired. Ace threw his arms wide and did a backflip off the jetty. Burt swung the gun to Hoke, who dropped the shotgun and raised his arms. Burt walked forward and looked down at Ace. A redness oozed from his chest and tinted the crystalline water a delicate pink. The gentle surf rocked his lifeless head from side to side as though he were saying, in a slow, tired manner, no … no … no …

“Burt!” Joss seized his neck and shouted in his ear. “They said you were dead. When you jumped in front of me, I thought … good God! I've
really
wigged out now.”

Sergeant George nosed the launch up to the jetty; Burt helped him tie Hoke and lay him in the cabin. Joss invited everybody to the club for drinks, and Burt remembered the diamonds.

“I'll join you later,” he said.

Tracy ran up and seized his hand. “You don't leave me, remember?”

They walked along the path, past cabins four, three, and two. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“To a certain cave—”

He stopped, frozen. Rolf had stepped out from behind the banyan with the gun leveled in his fist.

“Don't move, Burt. She gets the first shot. Tracy, take that gun from his pocket and bring it to me.”

She hesitated, and Burt licked his dry lips. A burst of Joss's half-hysterical laughter came from the direction of the club.

“Do as he says,” Burt told her.

She delivered the gun to Rolf, who dropped it in his pocket. He caught her arm and pulled her in front of him. “All right, Burt. Take me to the diamonds.”

“You won't hurt her?”

“You're in a poor bargaining position, but …” he shrugged. “Show me the diamonds and she goes unharmed.”

Burt led the way across the crusted grass. He remembered the last time he had made this trip, with Ace and Hoke behind him. He had known they would kill him; he was not certain about Rolf. The man could kill on a momentary whim, true, but a similar whim could stop him from killing. Rolf was logical in his own way; perhaps the diamonds would be enough.…

“They were watching for you in Grenada,” he said. “What happened?”

“I saw them before they saw me. They weren't watching for a man carrying a baby.” Rolf chuckled. “It pays to be chivalrous. My companion wasn't, and he got caught.”

Burt climbed down the low cliff and started along the pebble beach. He heard Rolf's voice behind him:

“Something like old home week, isn't it, Tracy? I presume he took you off the island. Has he been treating you well?”

“Better than you ever did.”

“Isn't that sweet?”

Burt heard a low grunt of pain. He turned to see Tracy fall forward onto her hands. He clenched his fists and took a step forward. Rolf pressed the gun against the back of her neck.

“Come on, March. Come and get her killed.”

Burt stopped, trembling with suppressed rage. “You only get one shot, Rolf. Then I'll kill you with my bare hands.”

“Ah, the beast is out, is it?”

“It will be if you kill her.”

“What if I kill you first?”

“You never find the diamonds.”

Rolf nodded slowly. “Beautiful. Beautiful impasse. I like you for an enemy, Burt.” He straightened. “Get up, Tracy.”

When they were walking again, Rolf said, “You must have had an interesting time on the island, Tracy. Plans for the future and all that. Will he be your connection? It won't be hard for a cop.”

“I don't use it any more.”

His only answer was laughter.

Burt walked along the low cliff, thinking fast and getting nowhere. He could have escaped easily, but the fact that Rolf had Tracy made it useless. He couldn't depend on Rolf not to kill her.…

Burt saw the lamplight before he entered the cave, but Maudie wasn't there. She must have heard the launch coming and run up to the hills. Burt turned as Tracy came in, followed by Rolf.

“Where are they?”

“Let her walk out of here first,” said Burt. “When she's out from under the gun, I'll show you.”

Rolf's teeth showed like fangs in the lamplight. “You picked a poor time for an ultimatum, Burt. The diamonds are here?” His eyes flicked around the cave. “Sure. This is that girl's rathole. Over there, both of you.” He shoved Tracy over beside Burt and had them both squat down with their hands clasped above their heads. Then he rummaged swiftly through Maudie's trove of treasures. Finding nothing, he started checking each crevice in the cave wall. The gun never left Tracy's heart; Burt was watching it.

“We made a deal, Rolf. I thought you always fulfilled your contracts, even with Nazis.”

“Technically,” said Rolf, “you have taken me to the diamonds, though I don't have them yet. And technically I am fulfilling my contract. I haven't killed Tracy—yet.”

Burt's heart sank. “Why should you kill her?”

“Because I can.”

“Then it's as good as done, isn't it?”

Rolf frowned, tugging at the rock Burt had jammed against the box. “You sound as though you have a point to make.”

“I mean,” said Burt, “you'd be getting a sitting duck. There'd be no problem in killing her, a little touch on the trigger and the machine stops. Click. She's dead, and there's no more kick than shutting off a radio.”

“Maybe to you—”

“To you, too. Man, I know this score. Half the kick is anticipation, the other half is danger. Getting the other guy before he gets you. You think you're unique in this world? Rolf Keener, the incomparable killer? You and a hundred thousand Nazis, you and Caligula, you and probably a billion others since the beginning of time. You go around shutting other people off because you see yourselves in them, and you hate what you see.”

“You see yourself in me?”

“Sure.”

“You hate me?”

“I understand you. That cancels out the rest of it.”

Rolf's lip curled. “You want to take me in and be a character witness for me?”

“I want you to take the diamonds and go.”

“Suppose I were caught—”

“I'd do all I could to see you fry.”

Rolf laughed. “That's better, Burt. I thought you were about to come on with violin music. Ah!” He pulled out the strongbox. Burt rocked forward on his feet, and Rolf's gun boomed like thunder in the cave. A rock fragment gouged Burt's cheek.

“Sit tight, Burt. We haven't finished our talk.”

Rolf spun the combination, opened the strongbox, and glanced at the glittering fortune nestled in velvet. With his left hand he began stuffing the diamonds in his pocket. When one pocket was full, he shifted the gun and began filling the other. To make room, he took out Burt's gun and dropped it behind him. To Burt he said: “You seemed about to suggest another deal. What was it?”

“A hand-to-hand fight. Winner take all.”

Rolf laughed. “You always suggest that when you're at my mercy. I'm already the winner.” He finished emptying the strongbox and stood up. “Let's put it up to Tracy. Tracy, you want to stay and die with him, or you want to live with me?”

Tracy gasped. “You mean, Burt—”

“He lives—if you come with me.”

She looked at Burt, and he read the anguish in her eyes. “Decide for yourself,” he said.

“I did that a week ago. I'd rather die than live with him.”

“Then that's your answer.”

“Look here, Tracy, before you decide.” Rolf squatted on his heels and opened his palm. Inside it was a small white capsule.

She gasped. “No!”

“You could sniff it right here. Right now.”

“I don't … want it.”

Rolf moved his hand, and the capsule landed at her feet. She stared down at it, trembling, the sweat beading her brow. Rolf spoke softly:

“You just imagine you've kicked the habit. You really haven't. You'll go back to it sooner or later. Why go through a lot of pain—?”

Burt saw his chance and lunged between Rolf and Tracy. The gun boomed, and the bullet ripped through his upper arm like a lance of fire. Burt drove his knee into Rolf's face and knocked him backward. He leaped on Rolf and ground his knee into the other's throat. He seized the wrist of Rolf's gun-hand in both of his, hammering the knuckles against the rock until the fingers gave up the gun. Burt seized it just as Rolf arched his back and threw him off. Burt rose to see Rolf lunge out of the cave. Burt ran out behind him and saw him wading through the black water.

“Stop!” he shouted.

“Shoot me,” yelled Rolf.

Burt fired, and his bullet struck sparks from the rock beside Rolf's head. Rolf left the crevice and turned right. Burt followed and saw that Rolf had walked out on a blind ledge, fifteen feet above the rocky beach. He stood with his back to the wall, his face smeared with blood.

“All right, Rolf,” said Burt. “Come on back.”

Rolf threw back his head and laughed. “You'll have to shoot me.”

“The state handles executions.”

“They don't have the right! A bunch of moronic electricians, what have they done?
They
didn't beat me. You did. So shoot!”

Burt started edging toward him.

“Your gun isn't much good, is it?” Rolf laughed and leaped headfirst off the ledge. Burt thought he'd decided to dash out his brains on the rocks, but the lean body knifed the water three feet beyond the rocks and came up swimming. Burt saw the power cruiser riding at anchor a hundred yards out. He felt a curdling anger in his stomach; Rolf had been sure he wouldn't shoot. Now Rolf was getting away; the old diesel could never catch him.

Burt dived out over the rocks, thankful that the beach was narrower here; he struck the water, arched his back, and came up swimming with all his strength. He saw that he was slowly closing the gap. Thirty feet, twenty …

A twinge in his arm reminded him of the wound. Losing blood … He heard Tracy's distant scream. He glanced over his shoulder to see a huge dorsal fin knifing through the water. Tiger shark, he thought in panic, must have been nosing around the rocks. He saw the fin turn sideways as the monster twisted for the bite. Burt surfaced, dived, and clawed for depth. He glimpsed a bulking shadow above him, then a huge body like a stucco wall slammed against him and sent him spinning down into the depths. He rose slowly, watching for the monster's second pass. It didn't come, and Burt saw why. Rolf was sinking down through the sunbeams that speared the air-clear water, turning slowly over and over. It was an oddly foreshortened Rolf, ending at his hips. Each stump gave forth a blue fountain which turned to red and drifted away like tenuous pink veils. The impossibly huge bulk of the shark returned, and the scene dissolved into churning red froth. Burt turned and stroked rapidly back to shore.