Renegade 32

by Lou Cameron

  ‘They don’t,’ Captain Gringo cut in, going on to explain, ‘If Greystoke had any idea where she was right now, he wouldn’t have offered me money, big money, to tell him where she was, right?’

  ‘True, but as we have learned in the past to our sorrow, British Intelligence does not spread money freely about. So the matter must be most important indeed, and whatever little Flora has been up to, it is not our fight!’ Captain Gringo insisted, ‘That’s a pretty shitty attitude to take, even coming from you. If the kid’s in a jam, the least I can do is warn her, right?’

  ‘Wrong. Have you forgotten that the last time you saw her she was throwing an alarming amount of crockery at you and insisting you were a brute she never wished to speak to again?’

  Captain Gringo grinned sheepishly and said, ‘Aw, you know how dames are when a knockaround guy just has to put on his pants and leave. If she was still sore at me, she wouldn’t have asked about me downstairs, right?’

  ‘Wrong. She could be plotting to castrate you avec a rusty can opener for all you really know! Think with your head instead of your glands, Dick! How well did we ever really know the girl and her très mysterious people? We were aboard Thistlegorm less than a month! Merde alors, for less than a month all women are trustworthy. That is why they call it a honeymoon. Mais, you had your très fatiguant honeymoon avec Flora MacTavish, and a wise man quits while he is ahead!’

  By this time they’d reached Gaston’s door on the second floor. As the Frenchman put his key in the lock, Captain Gringo said, ‘Don’t talk dirty. I don’t have to get back in bed with a dame to warn her Greystoke is after her for some reason, do I?’

  Gaston swore softly and replied, ‘Merde alors, I wish we were both queer. It would save so much argument at times like this! You know perfectly well it is simply impossible to look up an old flame without leaping upon her bones. Do not expect me to wait for you if your grand passion fails to cool by train time in the morning!’ Captain Gringo said it was a deal and moved on down to the door marked 203.

  He rapped discreetly, and a sleepy brogue called back softly, ‘Wha’s there?’

  He murmured, ‘Flora, it’s me, Dick Walker.’

  A few moments later the door cracked open, chained on the inside, to allow one big blue eye under a shock of red hair to regard him soberly. Then the door slammed shut in his face.

  He muttered, ‘What the hell ...’ But then he saw she’d had to shut the door to get the chain off. As it opened again, he saw the room on the other side was in almost total darkness. He ducked in and refastened the chain as he asked the redhead why she hadn’t switched on the lights. She said, ‘I canna get the lamp to work. There’s nae place to put the wee match!’

  ‘For God’s sake, haven’t you ever heard of Thomas Edison?’

  ‘Och, ye mean the lamps oop here in this grand city are all electrical magic, Dick?’

  He laughed and said that was close enough as he groped for the wall switch that had to be somewhere around here. Then, by the faint light coming through the window curtains across the way, he saw she was seated on the bed. So he wondered why on earth he’d want to do a dumb thing like that.

  He tossed his hat aside and peeled off his jacket and gun rig as he told her, ‘I just met some bum from British Intelligence who said they were looking for you, Flora. Want to tell me why?’

  As he joined her on the bed, she sobbed, ‘I dinna ken! That’s why I’ve been searching for ye all over this great city, Dick Walker. I was hoping ye could tell me!’

  He couldn’t. So he put his arms around her and lowered her across the bed, saying, ‘Maybe if we put our heads together, we’ll come up with something. As a matter of fact, I feel it coming up already.’

  He kissed her and cupped one breast with his free hand. She responded warmly enough at first, but as they came up for air she gasped, ‘Have ye gone daft, mon? Wha gave ye the richt to come in here and throw me doon on the bed wi’oot a word of warning? Ay, and take yer great paw off me titty, ye beastie!’

  He chuckled and removed his hand from her breast to slide it down her soft curves to more important places. He noticed she had nothing on under her robe, and it wouldn’t have been polite to say she’s put on some weight since the last time they’d been in bed together.

  He said, ‘Look, I know you said never to darken your door again, that time on the schooner. But let’s not act like kids, Flora. It was your idea to look me up this time, remember?’

  She moaned, ‘I had nae other to turn to, damn ye, and, och dear laird, where do ye think ye’re ga’ng wi’ that fresh hand inside me robe?’

  He kissed her some more to shut her up as he slid into home plate, parted the red thatch with his questing fingers, and proceeded to stoke her furnace right. Had it felt like this the last time? She felt great between her trembling thighs, which was only to be expected, but ...

  ‘Excuse me,’ he said with a puzzled frown, ‘but are you sure you’re really Flora MacTavish?’

  She sobbed, ‘Nae, it’s Flora MacLeod I’d be, ye awful mon, and it’s doomed I am as well, noo, if ye dinna take them tempting fingers oot of me wee pussie!’

  He gulped and said, ‘Oops, I guess I should say I’m sorry as hell, Miss MacLeod. But you see, I thought—’

  ‘I ken what ye thought!’ she gasped, grasping his wrist as he started to removed his hand from her lap before she added, ‘My poor cousin the MacTavish warned me aboot this, but as the laird is me witness, it’s too late to stop! Sae do ye mean to tease me like a lad or for God’s sake do it, like a won?’

  He knew better than to argue with a lady, and it only took him a few moments to shuck his own duds and mount her right with her robe thrown open to either side. But as he entered her, the strange redhead bit her bottom lip and hissed in what could be taken as pleasure or pure terror. As he settled against her bare curves, he asked her, ‘Am I hurting you, ah, Flora?’

  She moaned, ‘Ay, but noo that it’s a’ the way in, I may forgive my cousin for not warning me of that as well! Dear laird, do ye mean to say my wee skinny cousin took all of this and survived to boast about it?’

  He didn’t answer. It was confusing enough to go to bed with a redheaded lassie named Flora and discover you were really in bed with a different redheaded lassie named Flora. But this particular one insisted on comparing pussies as she moved her broader hips with alarming skill and demanded, ‘Can me wee cousin do it sae?’

  He growled, ‘I never kiss and tell. If I did, it would still be like comparing apples and oranges.’

  ‘Och, ye mean we’re both grand screws, Dick?’

  He laughed and kissed her again to shut her up as they both went deliciously crazy for a while. It wasn’t true that all cats were gray in the dark or that all pussies felt the same, praise the Lord. But in truth it was always hard to tell, at times like this, whether the one you were in was the best you’d ever had or whether it just felt that way no matter who you were about to come in. The old bromide that was true was that nine out of ten women were worth going to bed with and that the tenth one was good if only for the novelty. He didn’t have to worry about this particular redhead behaving as a restful change. He was glad he hadn’t had a woman since he’d gotten back to Limón. She seemed glad too, as they exploded in a pulsating mutual orgasm.

  She sighed in contentment for a moment and said, ‘Och, I felt that, ye wicked thing. I hope there’s more where that came from, for it’s wicked I feel my ainsel this nicht!’

  He moved teasingly in her but suggested, ‘Let’s take it easy till I get my second wind. Can you talk with your pussy full? I sure have a lot of questions to ask.’

  She clamped down on his semi-erection and wrapped her shapely legs around his waist as she replied, ‘Ay, it was a plea for help I had in mind when I let ye in here, ye mad rapist. Wha do ye think those damn auld Sassenachs want wi’ me?’

  ‘They can’t have this. But I don’t think that’s what Greystoke has in mind, the sissy. Suppose you start at
the beginning, Flora. It was your idea to get in touch with me, remember?’

  ‘I do indeed and would ye move it just a wee bit as we talk? My cousin Flora MacTavish told me aboot the time ye helped her, though she didna gae into the nice way ye move inside a lass.’

  ‘Damnit, do you want to tell me what’s up, besides me, or do we just go on screwing until it’s too late for me to help you?’

  She started moving faster under him as she purred, ‘Can we nae talk and screw at the same time? I just came up fra’ New Dunmore in me own wee craft, the ketch Murrighinn, to sell some pearlies. I’ve a buyer up in the capital at San José.’

  ‘You have the pearls on you and you need my help in getting them safely to San José?’

  She hugged him tightly with her legs and answered, ‘All I have on me noo is ye, and it feels grand. Me pearlies are in the hotel safe, for ye must have noticed how easy it is to get in here just noo. When I learned ye were staying here as well, it occurred to me ye might ken what to do aboot me fey feelings.’

  ‘Your what? No offense, but I don’t feel anything attached to you that other ladies don’t have.’

  ‘It’s fra’ me mathair’s side I get the second sight. She was a MacPhee, ye ken, and it’s an established fact clan MacPhee was founded by an Island mon and a sea fairy.’

  ‘Damnit, Flora, would you get to the point?’

  ‘Och, I will indeed if only ye’ll move it faster! Even before ye told me aboot them dreadful British agents, I’ve been feeling eyes on the back of me neck. A strange sail was shadowing me oop the coast as we made for Limón. Until ye told me just noo wha it was, I thought it might be thieves bent on stealing me pearlies. Sae when I heard the mighty Captain Gringo was here in Limón—’

  ‘We’ve been over that part,’ he cut in, adding, ‘I don’t think the Brits want to rob you. They’re out to put your home port on their Royal Navy charts for some reason and ... by the way, you said you came straight up here from the Gulf of Darien, but that lime juicer says you tried to contact me in Gracias a Dios, way up north. True?’

  She shook her head as well as her pelvis and said, ‘Nae. I’ve never been that far north in my Murrighinn. It’s me cousin, the other Flora, wha trades far and wide in her grander vessel. Besides, I didna ken ye were here in Limón until we sailed in.’

  ‘Who’s we and where are they?’

  ‘Och, did ye think one wee lass could mon a seaga’ng ketch, Dick? I’ve twa Ciboney lassies for a crew. They’re aboard Murrighinn in the harbor, of course. This grand hotel would never take in naked savages as guests. Besides, someone has to guard me ketch when I’m awa’, nae?’

  He started to ask her how come she hadn’t stayed aboard until she could catch the train to San José. He decided that would be a stupid question, having spent some time in crowded quarters himself. The mysterious redhead who’d tried to contact him way the hell up the Mosquito Coast was more puzzling than the one he was in contact with at the moment. The contact had him too hard, again, to continue the conversation calmly. So he started moving faster in her and steadied his nerves with another ejaculation in her sweet clinging flesh. Flora came too, but said she wanted more and suggested dog style or, as she put it, ‘Wee beastie.’ He laughed and said he’d always wondered what wee beastie felt like. But once he had her kneeling across the bed with his socks on the rug and his now somewhat jaded shaft between her smooth pale buttocks, he found himself calm enough to think some more about all the redheads named Flora who seemed to be looking for him at once.

  As he moved in and out of her, he asked this Flora if she thought Flora MacTavish could be looking for him for reasons of her own.

  She arched her back to croon, ‘Och, if ye ever had it in her this way, I’m sure that’s reason enough! The lads doon in New Dunmore are bragh enoo’, ye ken, but they do seem more interested in drinking and brawling than this sort of sport!’

  ‘Your cousin mentioned that. But in all modesty, I can’t see her sailing all the way to Gracias a Dios just to get laid. I know the Brits are searching for her, and they may have the two of you mixed up. Was there any other kind of trouble going on down in New Dunmore when you left?’

  She spread her knees wider on the edge of the mattress and arched her spine further to take it deeper as she moaned, ‘Nae. If anything interesting ever happened in our wee settlement, we’d nae doubt spend more time there. Och mo mala! Can ye nae move a wee bit faster, darling?’

  He could and did. The redhead sobbed and fell off his love-slicked shaft to lay quivering across the bed, leaving him to feel left out indeed. But as he fell forward to remount her, she insisted, ‘Nae, let me get on top this time. I canna abide the slow teasing way ye move in me, ye cruel mon!’

  He didn’t care how he had it in her, right now, as long as it was in her. So he rolled on his back and let her mount him. She did that well indeed, too.

  As she bounced atop him with a lush thigh gripping him on either side, a stray beam of light from a street-lamp outside illuminated her face in a series of on and off flashes, as if they were on one of those new moving pictures. He realized with an odd start that up until now he’d been picturing her as a larger and plumper version of her cousin, Flora MacTavish. It felt odd to see a totally strange face on what now felt like an old friend indeed. But Flora MacLeod was pretty too, so what the hell.

  If anything, it inspired him to new heights, as if he’d just switched partners at an orgy. She, of course, had known from the beginning what he looked like. So he felt it safe to assume her continued enthusiasm was sincere as she screwed them both to a frazzle, fell limply atop him, and pleaded, ‘Och, I canna keep ga’ng. Ye better roll me over if ye want more, ye maniac!’

  He was too polite to accuse a lady of the same crime. He said, ‘Hold the thought. Now that we’ve broken the ice, it’s time to do some serious thinking. I guess it was dumb of me to suggest the Brits were causing trouble around your home port. If they knew just where you girls dropped anchor between pearling voyages, they wouldn’t be following you around to find out where it might be.’

  She snuggled closer and asked, ‘Then ye dinna think anyone’s after me pearlies after all, Dick?’

  ‘Well, I met at least one plain old ladróne on my way here tonight. I’m not sure the hotel safe is where I’d want to bury a treasure, sweet stuff. It might be better to get them out and keep them up here, now. My pal and I are going up to San José in the morning aboard the same train. I don’t like to brag, but you and your pearls would probably be safer with Gaston and me guarding you than in some stranger’s little tin box!’

  ‘Och, do ye think the hotel would rob me, Dick?’

  ‘Don’t know. I know they won’t be able to if we keep your pearls under your pillow along with my .38. How big a treasure chest are we talking about, by the way?’ She rolled off him, sat up, and began to arrange her hair with her fingers as she replied, ‘Och, just a leather sporran, wi’ a double handful of pearlies in it. Ye dinna find a pearlie in every oyster ye bring oop, ye ken.’

  ‘The other Flora mentioned that. A couple of heaping handfuls of pearls adds up to a lot of dinero just the same, if they’re good pearls, right?’

  ‘Och, do ye think I’d sail sae far to sell baroches or chalks? They’re all first-quality pearlies, some gathered by others as well as me and mine. Many of our people seem too set in their ways to gae oot in the wider world even on serious business. Sae adventurous lassies like me and the MacTavish carry other pearlies as well for the shy stay-at-homes.’

  He said, ‘Never mind all that. We’d better go downstairs and get ’em all out of that safe.’

  ‘At this hour, and stark naked as we are, ye fool?’

  ‘We put our clothes on first, see? Don’t worry. We can take them right off again as soon as we make sure your other treasures are in bed with us.’

  She giggled and proceeded to gather up her duds as he did the same. But women always seemed to do things in a more complicated way. So he had to w
ait and smoke a third of a claro while she went down the hall to the bath to ‘attend to cuntry matters,’ as she put it. He didn’t see why, since they’d just be finessing her up some more in a little while. But it was nice to know she was tidy.

  She returned all buttoned up and looking as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. He left his hat in her room but followed her-down to the lobby with his gun rig in place under his jacket.

  The night clerk was dozing in an otherwise deserted lobby. He didn’t argue about opening the safe for Flora. He handed over a fat leather poke, slammed the safe shut again, and sat back down, yawning.

  Flora murmured, ‘Och, let’s leave the poor lad to his dreams.’

  But as she turned away, Captain Gringo muttered, ‘Check your pearls first. That drawstring’s a dumb idea, doll.’

  Flora stopped under a lobby lamp, opened the poke, and said, ‘It looks like they’re all here, Dick. Let’s get back oopstairs!’

  He shook his head and insisted, ‘Let’s count ’em here, so nobody can say we lost one on the way back to your room.’

  ‘Och, Dick, do ye really think that sleepy lad over there has sticky fingers?’

  The night clerk looked more sleepy than larcenous and didn’t seem to be following the guarded conversation in English, unless he was a good actor. But Captain Gringo insisted. So Flora picked up an ashtray from a nearby table, placed it on the marble desk top, and poured the contents of the poke out to count. The night clerk didn’t even open his eyes. He sure was missing something. Captain Gringo was no jeweler, but he knew pink pearls sold for more on the market and there were some of those slate-blue jobs they called black pearls as well, in the shimmering pile. Most, of course, were just the off-white common pearls that only cost an awful lot of money. Flora counted them back into her poke, two at a time, without commenting on the pink or black ones. He asked how she’d come by them anyhow, adding he’d heard they were a lot more valuable. She shrugged and said, ‘I’ve never found off-color pearlies, my ainsel’. The Indians we trade wi’ seem to know where queer oysters dwell. But when ye ask ’em to show ye, the savages gae sullen and broodful on ye, sae it’s best nae to ask.’