“This should be a new experience,” she said. “Come on, Henry — let’s play soldiers.”
A half-hour later the room reeked of solvent. The two of them sat at the table appreciating their weapons, all shiny and clean.
Sarah picked up one of the guns and fumbled with a clip full of bullets.
“Careful, darling,” said Henry. “Just slide the thing in ’til it clicks. Then — pointing it away from either of us — pul back the slider on the top of the gun. Make sure the safety’s on…”
“Henry! I know what the hell I’m doing here, okay?”
He was still wearing a leather jacket he’d bought that morning when the weather had turned colder. He picked up the gun, which he now ostentatiously called his “piece”, and slipped it neatly into an inside pocket. Then he stood up, patted his chest and looked in a mirror.
“Not even a lump. Not bad.”
After loading her gun and setting the safety, Sarah put it back on the table and looked at him. “It must be a guy thing.”
“What?”
“You’re really enjoying that gun, aren’t you?”
Henry didn’t know exactly how to respond. The plain truth was that having the weapon in his pocket did appeal to him. It made him feel safer to be armed, but he had to admit it also gave him a slight thrill. He remembered the Red Ryder BB gun of his boyhood, and the fast-draw pellet gun he’d owned when he was sixteen. He remembered practising the fast-draw, and his satisfaction when he’d managed to get his speed down to a quarter-second. That was fast. As fast as anybody he’d heard of, including Hugh O’Brien, TV’s Wyatt Earp, who was rumoured to be the fastest gun in Hollywood.
“I never owned a real gun,” he said, almost defensively. “But, no, I’m not enjoying it.”
“Yes you are. And it is a guy thing.”
He wasn’t in the mood to argue. He’d put his interest in guns to bed long ago, when he’d realized that the fast draw was about as useless a skill as could be imagined, but he couldn’t hope to convince Sarah of that.
“You say you want to try the hotel food?” he said.
“Sounds good to me.”
She smiled. “You know, Henry, I like the fact that you’re a guy.”
He walked over to where she sat on the sofa and knelt before her. “You do, do you? I know what else you like, too.”
“And what might that be?”
He slowly lifted her long skirt above her knees, then slid it up to her hips. A moment later Sarah’s soft screams of delight echoed through the suite.
The restaurant was festooned with plants, most of them in flower, and the twinkling lights that dotted the black ceiling made it seem as if they were on a patio under the stars. For the two of them it was one of those evenings that they knew, as they lived it, would always be a cherished memory. Their time together had been long enough for each of them to tell they’d found that special person, that mythic someone, who was their perfect match.
Sarah smiled and gazed into Henry’s pale-green eyes as he looked around the room. It didn’t bother her that his eyes weren’t riveted on her. She knew now it was his natural way of taking in his surroundings, permanently curious and a little awed. His eyes would always came back to hers and rest there for a moment, as though taking a welcome break from their wanderings. It was obvious she was the centre of his vision. In those moments when his eyes looked deep into hers she saw his love, his desire, and that mysterious little boy she knew would always be in his heart, however old he might be.
She decided right then that, if the question ever came, her answer would be an emphatic yes.
“Having a good time?” he asked.
“Yes. You?”
“My god, Sarah,” said Henry with a grin. “We haven’t known each other for long, but already we’re speaking to each other in monosyl ables.”
Sarah laughed. “Is that bad?”
“Bad? Heck, no. Think of how easy it makes conversation.”
“Yup.”
The hotel restaurant was serving a Chinese menu that evening. Some of the dishes were being prepared right at the tables, and the air was filled with the steaming aroma of garlic, ginger and sesame oil. By the time their food came, they were both ravenous. They dove into their assortment of dishes, sharing and comparing, until only the fortune cookies and a pot of black oolong tea remained.
Henry was about to tear the cellophane and reveal his fortune when Sarah stopped him.
“Don’t,” she said, touching his hand lightly. “Let’s save them.”
“But isn’t it the law? Won’t they shoot us or something if we don’t read our fortunes?”
“Let them try. After all, we’re armed.”
“Yeah. We’re tough guys, now, right?”
She scooped up the two fortune cookies and dumped them in her bag, grateful that Henry hadn’t made her explain that she didn’t want to think about their fortune or their future right now. Better just to keep them as a meaningful souvenir of their time together in Santiago.
“I still think we’re violating some sacred code of ethics,” said Henry. “Confucius may haunt our dreams tonight.”
“Then we’d better not sleep.” She rubbed his shin with her bare toes.
That familiar shiver of lust started at the back of Henry’s neck again. He smiled like an embarrassed schoolboy and looked around.
Right at Rudolfo Suarez, who was being seated with two of his men across the room.
But Henry, his mind elsewhere, didn’t notice them. His eyes returned to Sarah as she sensuously massaged his calf. Her naked toes found their way under his trouserleg and began exploring his calf up past his socks.
“Let’s go back to the room,” she murmured. “You can have your cookie there.”
Across the room, Suarez watched Henry and Sarah get up. His eyes followed them until they were out of sight. Remo and Trevor sat on either side of him, already engrossed in the menus.
“Shit, boss, I haven’t had Chinese for over a year,” said Trevor, sniffing the air. “Smell's great. Glad we found this place.”
Remo stared at the menu, stroking his thick red moustache as he contemplated the strange items listed there. “What’s good?” he asked, grabbing a handful of noodles.
“You’ll like the duck,” said Suarez. “Everybody does.”
He picked up the menu himself, then looked back in the direction of the lobby. He wondered where he’d seen that couple before. He shook his head as he told himself he was probably mistaken about them. He could think of no couples he knew where the woman had such magnificent red hair. It bugged him a bit, because he prided himself that he never forgot a face.
“I don’t see duck,” said Remo.
Trevor put down the menu and sat back in his chair.
“Szechuan Duck,” he said. “Left column. Top of the list.”
He took out a cigarette, lit it, and stared around the room.
Suarez shook his head. Maybe it was a guy I’ve just bumped into in the street, he thought. Then, frustrated that he couldn’t get an answer to his puzzle, he forced himself to think of other things.
He was only five days away from the October 1 deadline. Now was the time when he had to be careful to watch his every move. No time for distractions.
The next morning Henry and Sarah woke to the realization that this was their last day ashore before returning to the Enterprise. What would become of them after that was anyone’s guess, but the fact that life was so uncertain made them more focused on their moment in time together. Perhaps if they could have frozen time itself, both of them would have given it a try.