He went to the secretary and removed the silenced Ruger with the hollow point bullets; he also took out a snub-nosed Smith & Wesson .38 Chief Special and loaded it. Then he sat down to wait for Kolabati to come out of the shower.
16
Kolabati blotted herself dry, wrapped the towel around her, and came out into the hall. She found Jack sitting on the bed—just where she wanted him. Desire surged up at the sight of him.
She needed a man right now, someone to lie beside her, to help her lose herself in sensation and wash away all thought. And of all the men she knew, she needed Jack the most. He had pulled her from Kusum's clutches, something no man she had ever known could have done. She wanted Jack very much right now.
She dropped the towel and fell onto the bed beside him.
"Come," she said, caressing his inner thigh. "Lie down with me. We'll find a way to forget what we've been through tonight."
"We can't forget," he said, pulling away. "Not if he's coming after us."
"We have time, I'm sure." She wanted him so. "Come."
Jack held his hand out to her. She thought it was an invitation to pull him down and she reached up. But his hand was not empty.
"Take it," he said, placing something cold and heavy in her palm.
"A gun?" The sight of it jolted her. She had never held one before… so heavy. The dark blue of its finish glinted in the subdued light of the bedroom. "What for? This won't stop a rakosh."
"Maybe not. I've yet to be convinced of that. But I'm not giving it to you for protection again rakoshi."
Kolabati pulled her eyes away from the weapon in her hand to look at him. "Then what… ?" His grim expression provided a chilling answer to her question. "Oh, Jack. I don't know if I could."
"You don't have to worry about it now. It may never come to that. On the other hand it may come down to a choice between being dragged off to that ship again and shooting your brother. It's a decision you'll have to make at the time."
She looked back at the gun, hating it and yet fascinated by it—much the same as she had felt when Kusum had given her that first look into the ship's hold last night.
"But I've never… "
"It's double-action: You've got to cock it before you can fire." He showed her how. "You've got five shots."
He began to undress and Kolabati put the gun aside as she watched him, thinking he was about to join her on the bed. Instead he went to the bureau. When he turned to face her again he had fresh underwear in one hand and in the other a long-barreled pistol that dwarfed hers.
"I'm taking a shower," he said. "Stay alert, and use that" —he gestured to her pistol on the nightstand— "if you have to. Don't start thinking of ways to get your brother's necklace. Shoot first, then worry about the necklace."
He stepped out into the hall and soon she heard the shower running.
Kolabati laid back and pulled the sheet over her. She moved her legs around, spreading and closing them, enjoying the touch of the sheets on her skin. She needed Jack very much tonight. But he seemed so distant, immune to her nakedness.
There was another woman. Kolabati had sensed her presence in Jack the very first night they met. Was it the attractive blond she had seen him talking to at the U.K. reception? It had not concerned her then because the influence had been so weak. Now it was strong.
No matter. She knew how to have her way with a man, knew ways to make him forget the other women in his life. She would make Jack want her and only her. She had to, for Jack was important to her. She wanted him beside her always.
Always...
She fingered her necklace.
She thought of Kusum and looked at the pistol on the nightstand. Could she shoot her brother if he came in now?
Yes. Most definitely, yes. Twenty-four hours ago her answer would have been different. Now… the loathing crawled up from her stomach to her throat… "Kaka-ji!" … the rakoshi called her brother "Kaka-ji!" Yes, she could pull the trigger. Knowing the level of depravity to which he had sunk, knowing that his sanity was irredeemable, killing Kusum could almost be looked on as an act of compassion, done to save him from any further acts of depravity and self-degradation.
More than anything she wanted his necklace. Possessing it would end his threat to her forever—and allow her to clasp it about the throat of the only man worthy to spend the rest of his days with her—Jack.
She closed her eyes and nestled her head deeper into the pillow. After only a few minutes of fitful slumber on that wafer-thin mattress in the pilot's cabin last night, she was tired. She'd just close her eyes for a few minutes until Jack came out of the shower, then she would make him hers again. He'd soon forget the other woman on his mind.
17
Jack lathered himself vigorously in the shower, scrubbing his skin to cleanse it of the stink of the hold. His .357 was wrapped in a towel on a shelf within easy reach of the shower. His eyes repeatedly wandered to the outline of the door, hazily visible through the light blue translucency of the shower curtain. His mind's eye kept replaying a variation on the shower scene from Psycho. Only here it wasn't Norman Bates in drag coming in and slashing away with a knife—it was the Mother rakosh using the built-in knives of her taloned hands.
He rinsed quickly and stepped out to towel off.
Everything was okay in Queens. A call to Gia while Kolabati was in the shower had confirmed that Vicky was safe and sound asleep. Now he could get on with business here.
Back in the bedroom he found Kolabati sound asleep. He grabbed some fresh clothes and studied her sleeping face as he got dressed. She looked different in repose. The sensuousness was gone, replaced by a touching innocence.
Jack pulled the sheet up over her shoulder. He liked her. She was lively, she was fun, she was exotic. Her sexual skills and appetite were unparalleled in his experience. And she seemed to find things in him she truly admired. They had the basis for a long relationship. But…
The eternal but!
… despite the intimacies they had shared, he knew he was not for her. She would want more of him than he was willing to give. And he knew in his heart he would never feel for her what he felt for Gia.
Closing the bedroom door behind him, Jack went into the front room and prepared to wait for Kusum. He pulled on a T-shirt and slacks, white socks, and tennis shoes—he wanted to be ready to move at an instant's notice. He put an extra handful of hollow point bullets in his right front pocket and, on impulse, stuck the remaining Cricket lighter in the left. He set his wing-backed chair by the front window and faced the door. He pulled the matching hassock up and seated himself with the loaded Ruger .357 in his lap.
He hated waiting for an opponent to make the next move. It left him on the defensive, and the defensive side had no initiative.
But why play defensively? That was just what Kusum expected him to do. Why let Crazy Kusum call the shots? Vicky was safe. Why not take the war to Kusum?
He snatched up the phone and dialed. Abe answered with a croak on the first ring.
"It's me—Jack. Did I wake you?"
"No, of course not. I sit up next to the phone every night waiting for you to call. Should tonight be any different?"
Jack didn't know whether he was joking or not. At times it was hard to tell with Abe.
"Everything okay on your end?"
"Would I be sitting here so calmly talking to you if it wasn't?"
"Vicky's all right?"
"Of course. Can I go back to sleep on this wonderfully comfortable couch now?"
"You're on the couch? There's another bedroom."
"I know all about the other bedroom. I just thought maybe I'd sleep here between the door and our two lady friends."
Jack felt a burst of warmth for his old friend. "I really do owe you for this, Abe."
"I know. So start paying me back by hanging up."