Sidetagin brought a bottle and two glasses to a cocktail table.
“Starka!” Tormanov smiled. “I’ll have to force myself.”
Sidetagin took his glass and sat beside Linda. He touched the dressing gown covering her left breast.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Tormanov said.
“Routine examination. I want—”
“Forget that for now. Let’s get serious.”
“About what?”
“Who goes first.”
“No question. I go first.”
Tormanov opened a switchblade knife. “Maybe not.”
“All right, all right. A proposition. Shahmaty.”
“We don’t have time.”
“The way I play?”
“Find a board!”
“You find the board. I’ll get another bottle. Excellent player though I may be, this could be a two bottle game.”
Staranov patted Sheila’s cheek. “You are comfortable, my dear?” Sheila didn’t respond. “It is cool in here. Your undergarments may not be adequate. Would you care for a robe?”
“Please.”
“Do not be silly, Doctor! Do you imagine that I had you dressed in briefs and brassier in order that you might cover yourself with a robe? Let us try to treat each other with respect.” He pushed one of the brassier straps off her shoulder. “That gesture alone should do wonders for establishing our relationship this evening. Do you comprehend?”
Sheila struggled to keep the cup in place.
“Yes?”
Sheila nodded.
“Let us begin with your relationship with Mr. Larson. I observed your sleeping arrangements. Why were you and he in different cabins?”
She didn’t respond.
“Since you did not share a bed, I conclude that you are not lovers.” He paused. “Or perhaps lovers, but at odds with each other at this time.” He hesitated. “But perhaps you—but enough. I shall employ direct questions. Wait! What is your relationship? Married?”
“No.”
“Lovers?”
“No.”
“Never?”
“No.”
“But that is incredible! Did he never demand your submission?”
“No.”
“Not the slightest interest?”
She hesitated. “No.”
“Your are a prevaricator, Doctor. Your behavior tells all. If you are not lovers, he has shown interest and you have rejected him.”
“Perhaps.”
“Perhaps? Remember that I am empathetic. I would testify before Great Stalin himself that that is the case.” He paused. “I think that—oh, I beg your pardon, Doctor. I have forgotten myself entirely. Pray forgive me.”
Sheila frowned.
“I have forgotten to ask you if you will give me the secret of the predictor. A positive response would render my plan for torture unnecessary. Will you give me the secret of the predictor?”
“No.”
“Prevoshodnj! We may proceed as soon as I have defined my best approach.”
“Damn you!” Sidetagin said. “That pawn wasn’t there a minute ago.” “Bullshit!”
“Put it back.”
“Where do think it was?”
Sidetagin hesitated. “I don’t know, but I know it wasn’t in front of the knight.” “You accuse me of cheating over a woman?”
“As if you didn’t cheat me out of that Cicero whore Saturday night.” Tormanov laughed. “The situation required me to bring order.”
“Maybe so. Anyway, it’s your turn to find the vodka. You can’t cheat me out of
that.”
“Yes, I can. You’re the vodka provider. I watch the prisoners.”
Sidetagin returned with a third bottle of Starka and poured. “Your move.” Tormanov didn’t respond.
“Your move, duren!”
“I can’t. I’m busy.”
“You look as if you’re asleep.”
“I’m thinking of what I’ll do with the woman.”
“If your game doesn’t improve, you’ll be doing something with her after me.”
Sdietagin. “Maybe even after me twice.”
Tormanov settled his elbows on the table and closed his eyes.
Sidetagin studied his face, then stood.
Tormanov stood. “Where you going?”
“If you’re going to sleep, I’ll just—”
“Goddamn it!” Tormanov’s swing knocked the chessboard onto the deck. There was a roar from the far end of the boat. “What are you two doing? You are
supposed to be enjoying the woman. We do not want any complaints from the neighboring boats.”
Tormanov handed the board to Sidetagin. “Set it back up. I‘ll take a quick piss and then we’ll settle the matter. The City of Fairhope was responsible for law enforcement at the Grand Hotel Marriott. Sergeant Paul Peters was on the duty desk in the low, brick headquarters building just before midnight.”
“Desk. Sergeant Peters.” “This is the desk clerk at the Grand. The master of yacht Southern Comfort just called to complain about a big, noisy party on another boat. Screaming and yelling.”
“So send one of your people out.”
“The assistant manager said to call you.”
“They’re your guests, aren’t they? If they’re moored off your property and you’re charging them for the privilege, they’re your responsibility.”
“I don’t—”
“Just like they were guests in the hotel. Same thing.”
Staranov draped a bath towel over Sheila’s shoulders. “There, that is better, is it not?”
“Yes.”
“But understand that it is not permanent.”
“I haven’t forgotten you.”
“Nor what I did to your uncle?”
“No.”
“How well we handled his death! I suspect there was no indication of anything other than a heart attack.”
“The police didn’t try very hard. I tried to pursue the matter with—”
Staranov placed his hand over her mouth. “That is water over the dam, Doctor. I enjoy talking with you, even if you are a female, but your attempt to deflect me from my purpose with conversation is useless.”
She stared at him.
“As a scientist, I would like to again attempt the sexual torture that I began at your house, but I am constrained. It would take a great deal of time and I wish to be gone before daylight. Still—” He threw the towel on the floor, removed her brassier, and squeezed both breasts.
She tried to bite him. “Pig!”
He removed pliers from his briefcase. “These are next. Since I have but a single tool, I must choose. To which shall I apply them? The left—very nice? The right—perhaps even nicer. Which do you think Mr. Larson would want preserved?”
She began to cry.
“The predictor! Give me the secret and save your lovely breasts.”
She didn’t respond.
He put the pliers back into his briefcase. “Breasts do not interest me, Doctor. Let us see. Your teeth. Open.”
She clamped her lips between her teeth.
“Doctor, can you not realize that I am trying to save you from excessive pain? Is it so very important to you, this computer program?”
She didn’t respond.
He placed the towel around her shoulders again and began pacing.
“An idea. Could we not coexist? Both employ the predictor? Coordinate our investments?” He shook his head. “No, such an arrangement would never be honored.”
He leaned forward so that his face was inches from hers.
She grimaced. “Your breath!”
Staranov covered his mouth momentarily, then smiled. “All part of the service, my dear. The more you are discomfited, the sooner you speak.” He exhaled in her face.
She twisted her head away.
He retreated. “Would you like to know how I broke your uncle’s will?”
“I—yes.”
“He wilted rather easily. He did not suffer any physical distress—other than a few early blows and the onslaught of hunger. The pressure that made him break was generated solely in his mind—a man with too much imagination. What do you think of that?”
“I think you’re a beast of the rarest form!”
“Beast, no. Rare, yes.” He paused. “It was my pleasure to assure him that he had fought the good fight, but I lied. He was a very easy subject.”
She straightened her back. “It occurs to me, beast, that he wasn’t easy at all. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”
Staranov whirled to face her. “Point taken. Yes, point taken. He committed suicide to protect the predictor.”
“Beast!” She spit in his face.
He gathered the spittle from his chin with his tongue. “That was a repeat performance, Doctor.” He paused. “But I congratulate you. You have again diverted me from my plan for this evening. Clever. Will you give me the predictor?” “Never!”
“Never? Such a long time.”
He touched her left ear. “Beautiful. Shell-like, as your decadent authors would have it. Quite lovely.” He sighed. “It was through your uncle’s ear that I entered his mind.”
She frowned.
“Yes, I convinced him that I was going to explore the interior of his ear.”
She shook his hand off.
He touched the other ear. “It may be that I shall be forced to address your ears.” He laughed. “But, never mind, you will be able to arrange your long hair to cover the damage. Probably. If you live.” He abruptly stood. “Excuse me for a moment. I find myself fatigued. I shall rest awhile. I have not recovered from my wound and the fall from the cliff at your wonderful estate.” He paused. “You, in the meantime, should dwell on what may happen to you next and the desirability and ease of avoiding it.”
“Enough of your tricks!” Tormanov drew the knife again.
“That little thing!” Sidetagin pulled a Bowie knife from a boot scabbard. They circled, thrusting the blades.
“Hold still, ubl’udok!”
“At least my old lady knew the old man. Your father was someone the old shl’uha
rolled in an alley for a kopek.”
“Just a little closer, just a little—”
Sidetagin dragged his big knife across Tormanov’s chest. There was a streak of
blood across the shirt. Tormanov backed away and lowered his knife. “Wait a goddamned minute. Trying to impress the bitch with how manly we are is one thing, but real blood is another. Watch it, goddamn it!”
“Impress the bitch? I’ll show you.” Sidetagin roared as he dove at Tormanov.
“Desk. Sergeant Peters.” “This is the night supervisor at the Grand. We called earlier about a boat disturbing—”
“I took the call.”
“Well, now two other boats have lodged complaints about noise. We want—”
“We’ll send a boat. Where’s the offender?”
“Grid square seventy-one.”
Staranov walked down the passageway to the saloon, mumbling. “No respect for my work, no ability to take orders.” He stopped. “You, there, you two. Cease that noise. Amuse yourselves with less noise or a I shall take your toy away from you.”
Sidetagin shrugged. “ I am resting at this moment. I require peace and quiet. If I must dispose of everyone on this boat in order to produce suitable working conditions, I shall do so!”
Staranov retraced his steps to the second.
Sidetagin replaced his knife. “Crazy as he is supposed to be, he might do it.”
Kostov glanced at Larson, then shifted his body so that he faced Linda. He raised his eyebrows and smiled as best he could.
She frowned, then shrugged.
He pushed his shoulders back and threw his chest out.
She frowned.
He threw his chest out again and moved his hips forward and back.
She smiled and nodded.
Tormanov folded his knife. “Prepare the board while I—”
“Boys!” Linda said. She stood and opened her dressing gown. “Look over here!” She executed a model’s turn. “Why fight over who’s first. There’s plenty for all. I think that crazy old man really is going to kill all of us and I, for one, want to go out with more than a memory of a knife against my throat. Come on!”
Tormanov stumbled to his feet. “To think that’s been sitting there waiting, while you and I played chess! Chess! Don’t tell anyone know about this.”
“I’m still first.” Sidetagin started for the couch, but Tormanov blocked him into the wall.
She was lying on her back, beckoning.
Tormanov fumbled with his zipper. Then, his trousers still around his ankles, he dove on top of her.
She caught his wall-side shoulder in her left hand and rolled him onto the floor.
“Cute, bitch, but—”
She shifted an unopened bottle of bourbon to her left hand and smashed it against his head. He lay still.
Sidetagin struggled to his feet. “Goddamn! What—”
Kostov drove his shoulders into Sidetagin’s abdomen.
Larson jammed his healthy shoulder into his head.
Linda stepped across Tormanov’s body and broke another full bottle of bourbon over Sidetagin’s head.
She was panting. “That ought to do it.” She pulled the duct tape off Kostov’s mouth, then Larson’s.
Staranov closed the door to the second stateroom. He turned toward the large stateroom, but stopped to listen. He smiled—there was no noise from the saloon. “My rest has provided me with the insight I require, Doctor. Constraints on my time notwithstanding, I shall have Mr. Larson brought here and—while you watch—I shall dissect him. Piece by very small piece. I have a suitable anesthetic in my briefcase, so that he will be quiescent. You, on the other hand, will not be physically harmed, but the memory of the event will destroy your life.” He laughed. “What do you think?”
She hesitated a long moment, then sighed. “I think you win. Augur’s not worth Larson’s death and my sanity. You are a talented man. One wonders what you might have accomplished, were you not completely and utterly insane.”
“ You think your insult will somehow give you an advantage? You are not quite as intelligent as I thought.”
Sheila shrugged.
“Let us begin. How does the predictor work?”
“I don’t know how much of what Aaron explained you were able to understand, but —”
“My man was able to follow the steps to the final solution—less one. His results exactly matched the output we found in the Professor’s files, but there was a final step that—”
“The final computation is done manually.”
“I do not—”
“The computer’s result is entered into a simple geometric formula. The solution of that formula is the prediction of the intensity.”
“Interesting. Very well, what is the formula?”
“That of the cardioid.”
“A what?”
“A cardioid. A geometric formula.”
“What is the formula?”
“r equals two a multiplied by the parenthetical one plus cosine Theta.”
“What!”
“Your studies at your torture school didn’t prepare you to be an all around, world- class torturer after all, beast?”
Staranov smiled. “Your attitude toward me is undergoing a remarkable change, Doctor. You think that you and Mr. Larson will be safe and so you imagine you can afford to toy with me?”
She shrugged.
“Neither of you is back on your mountain.” He extracted paper and pen from his briefcase, then noted what Sheila had said. “Continue.”
“There are exactly three parallel tangents to the cardioid with any given gradient. Also, the tangents at the ends of the chord through the cusp point are at right angles. The length of—”
“Stop! Do you expect me to understand this? If Romanidze were here—if that
ox hadn’t killed him—but I do not.” He shrugged. “I shall make notes. Continue.”
“—are at right angles.”
“I have that. Continue.”
“The length of any chord through the cusp point is 4a and the area of the cardioid is 6 times pitimes a-squared. The pedal curve of the—”
“Stop! This ridiculous!”
“What are you—”
“This does me no good. I am flabbergasted at my lack of forethought. When you said there was a final step, I assumed there was another computer program or perhaps a mechanical device of some sort.”
Sheila smiled.
“Two problems! One, I am not sure I can deliver your information to Moscow error- free, and, two, how can I be sure that if I deliver it there, it will be correct?” He covered his face with his hands. “How could I have been so selfassured?”
“It happens all the time.”
“Not to me. Not to Staranov!” He shook his head. “I shall rest again and consider my next step.”
Larson and Kostov massaged their muscles while Linda dressed. “Now what?” she said. Kostov grab bed Tormanov’s wrist. “We shall put these two overboard.” He began dragging Tormanov to the cockpit.
“But they’re unconscious!” Linda said. “They’ll drown.”
“Correct.”
Larson shook his head. “Ivan, this isn’t Russia. I—”
“Consider the facts. Might a police investigator decide we have mistreated these two visitors to our boat? We—”
“The tape, Ivan,” Larson said. “It’s right here, where Linda—”
“Will the investigators see that we were bound?”
“But they’re Russians. The authorities will—”
“I assure you that they will be found to be Americans. They are illegals, KGB agents. Their papers will be in perfect order, their neighbors in Chicago will remember them to have been friendly. They had jobs. They didn’t speak with accents. No one would suppose they are Russians.”
Neither Larson nor Linda responded.
“I repeat, we may be found to have assaulted our guests. They are unconscious, perhaps concussed—perhaps with skull fractures. They may die. We might be found guilty of assault, perhaps murder.”
There was no response.
“Not ten minutes ago these two were planning to rape Linda and murder all of us. Because we now have the upper hand, you two have developed a yearning for them to live? The famous American regard for the underdog. Ridiculous!” He emptied Tormanov pockets. “There will be no identifying papers. I assure you the clothing is untraceable. The fingerprints will not be found in any American file. The bodies will be found with a high degree of alcoholic intoxication.” He considered Larson’s face, then Linda’s.
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