‘Are you certain?’
‘Absolutely. Your Paul couldn’t have been Paul. You want to know why? Two reasons. One, when your guy was making love to you in Gleneagles Hotel, Paul was having a stroke on stage in Albuquerque. Two, the real Paul wouldn’t have fancied you at all, for he’s gay.’
I found that I was laughing. I shouldn’t have, for she looked so bewildered. ‘So if he isn’t Paul, who is he?’
‘Ah, fuck it. Let’s just call him Jack. That’s the name he used in Minneapolis; Jack Nicholson.’ I looked at her, in a way I hadn’t for a while. ‘I just can’t believe that you were taken that badly, love. Hook, line and fucking sinker.’
My eyes locked on hers. I went to sip the Chablis, but stone me, it had evaporated again. This time she poured my refill. I chuckled as I sipped it; at least, I thought I was sipping it; the stuff really was very drinkable. ‘What’s the deal, then?’ I asked her.
‘What do you mean, the deal?’
‘You know. The deal, trade, kiddie barter.’ Suddenly I felt hot, very hot; I unbuttoned my shirt all the way down, and tugged it from my waistband. Or at least I thought at the time that I had done it; maybe it was Prim.
‘Well, here’s the deal,’ she whispered. She leaned into me and kissed me. And then it all got confused. I gave the sarong a tug; it just seemed to come away in my hand. I tried to focus on her; I couldn’t, but it didn’t matter. I knew her body well enough; the extra bits were just a bonus. All at once I felt euphoric, exultant, calm and enormously, extravagantly horny. As she undid my belt and slid off my pants, I wasn’t thinking of anything but her and how funny, outrageous and amazingly stupid the whole thing had turned out to be.
As we rolled off the couch and she went down on me on the carpet, all I could do was giggle like a clown. As she straddled me all I could think of was that she was a fucking lunatic, but right at that moment I didn’t care because I was loving what I was getting. It was so good that a little light kept flashing before my eyes, every few seconds or so.
‘It was the duck, you know,’ I chuckled into her ear. ‘Now, it’s so fucking obvious that you put that duck in Martha’s bathroom, then made sure I went for a slash.’ I laughed louder. ‘You even drank all that fucking root beer so I wouldn’t think anything of it. I fell for it too. I bought it all,’ I giggled, ‘right up till this afternoon.’
She arched her back, with me deep inside her, rolled her eyes, and then laughed back at me. ‘None of us are quite as clever as we think we are, Oz, especially you. Now shut your eyes, shut your mouth and enjoy, because this is the most expensive shag you will ever have in your life. Indecent Proposal was cheap stuff compared to this.’
Even that obvious clue would not have begun to untangle the slithering mass of snakes that had engulfed my brain. I hadn’t a bloody clue what she was talking about. As I looked up at her I felt that I didn’t even care what she was talking about. Okay, it had been a set-up all along, an ingenious outrageous set-up, with me as the set-ee . . . I laughed even more manically at that . . . but so fucking what? This was great, Prim and me the way it used to be, the way it might have been, the way it could be again, and all I wanted to do was sleep off this one then have another, whatever the price-tag. All of it, the real meaning of it, would have passed me by, but for one thing.
It was just then, with the last small piece of my brain that was still functioning, that I realised that we were not alone. There was someone else in the room, a faint hazy figure, and either he was a waiter come in to clear away the ice-bucket . . . no way, José, that’s good stuff and it’s not finished ... or he was someone else, doing something else. As I peered at him over Prim’s shoulder, another of those funny lights went off in a flash. This was no waiter.
Under any condition, if there’s one thing I hate it’s a fucking sneaking peeping Tom ... an ironic label in the circumstances.
There is a dangerous moment in intoxication: it comes when a happy drunk becomes an unhappy drunk, and if one is in the wrong place at the wrong time, it can have serious consequences.
For Prim, these manifested themselves in me heaving her off me, and tossing her clean over the back of the couch, in a single action. For the guy with the camera, they took the form of me surging to my feet, instantly detumescent, and lurching, snarling, after him. Fortunately for him, my legs weren’t working too well. He had a further lucky break when Prim rose like a dragon from behind the upholstery and went for me, in an entirely different way from before. She didn’t delay me for long, only for the amount of time it took me to clip her on the chin and knock her on her arse again . . . You’re shocked that Oz hit a woman? You can’t believe that Oz hit Primavera? Well, get over it! . . . but it was crucial.
By the time I reached the door it was open, and he was through it, and heading for the nearest escape route, in this case an open lift door. Nothing was holding me back, though: I was going to catch the bastard, I was going to tear him into the smallest pieces I could manage, and then I was going to eat them. I set off after him; I thought I was sprinting, but I think I was really doing a slow-motion jog through candyfloss.
Life’s small coincidences can make so much difference. By sheer chance, as I passed the nearest elevator, it opened and Liam Matthews stepped out, with Erin behind him. He took one look, and grabbed hold of me. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ he asked, not unreasonably.
I struggled against him, pointing along the hallway: ‘I’m going to kill that bastard,’ I shouted. ‘The fucker with the camera.’ Liam glanced over his shoulder, just in time to see the man . . . He was wearing shades and a tan jacket, but he was clean-shaven. Isn’t it funny how tiny details stick in your mind? . . . disappear into the lift.
‘Not in that state you’re not, Oz,’ he said, then he slapped a half-nelson on me, wrestled me back to my room, and forced me inside. Someone else might have had trouble doing that, but not him. ‘Liam,’ I pleaded, almost coherently, ‘you’ve got to get him. Don’t let him leave the hotel.’
‘I won’t,’ he promised. ‘At least I’ll try. Now you get control of yourself, and cover that monster up.’ He slammed the door in my face.
Prim was still on the floor when I went back into the living area. She was groggy, but I picked her up, slung her over my shoulder and staggered off towards her room, grabbing the discarded sarong as I went. The door was open; even in my confused state I remembered that it had been closed earlier, and guessed that she had hidden her partner there.
As I threw her on to the bed I was still dazed from whatever it was that had happened to me. It must still have been working on me, for part of me . . . the part with a forked tail and horns ... wanted her again.
Thankfully, the side of me with the white gown, the wings and the halo won the internal battle. It was pretty close, but he just nicked it on a split points decision.
I dragged her across to the big wardrobe, slung open the door and used her slinky garment to lash her wrists to the hanging rail. She didn’t like it, but she had the sense not to resist. Okay, it might not have been a very angelic thing to do, but I hope you’ll agree that, all things considered, it was understandable.
Chapter 28
I wove my way back to my own room. My vision was still a bit fuzzy and my mind was all over the place. I tried to pull all the strands of what had happened together, but couldn’t hold them in place for more than a couple of seconds at a time. I stared around me for a while, at nothing at all, until I caught sight of a large naked figure looking at me. I focused on him, and that was when I realised that the mirrored doors of the wardrobe were closed. I realised also that I looked totally out of my skull.
I went into ‘His’ bathroom and stood under the shower. After a couple of minutes, it occurred to me to switch it on, full blast.
I put my palms flat against the wall and let the needle-sharp spray pound into my head for quite a while ... for more than five minutes, to be a little more accurate. (I wasn’t completely naked; I still had on my R
olex.) My ear stung, but I didn’t care as I felt my other senses return along with the pain.
I towelled myself more or less dry as quickly as I could, slipped on a pair of jeans and a seriously loud Paul Smith shirt that I’d bought on the Strip the night before, and went back out to the scene of the crime. I was picking up my discarded clothes when I heard Prim yell my name.
I went through to her room. Even in my bamboozled state I’d made a good job of tying her up. The knots were tight and the rail was strong; she was just where I’d left her, as I’d left her. There must have been some of the goofy juice left in my bloodstream, for I grinned at her, licked my lips and started to unzip my fly. She looked at me in something like horror, until I winked at her, zipped it up again and untied her.
Just then there was a thump on the door. I went through to open it, to find Liam there, with Daze, blocking out the light as usual. ‘Did you catch him?’ I asked, but I could read the answer in their eyes, even before the big man shook his head.
‘We looked all over the place,’ said Liam. ‘Eventually I found a bellboy who said that he saw a man in a tan jacket running out of the door and across the bridge.’
I took them into the living area. ‘If you want a drink, use the bar,’ I told them. ‘Don’t touch the Chablis or those glasses.’ They were both still on the table; mine was empty, but the other was untouched. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’
When I walked in on Prim she was trying to smooth the wrinkles from her sarong. ‘I need to shower,’ she muttered, glaring at me.
‘Go ahead,’ I told her.
‘Well, get out, then.’
I laughed. ‘I’m not taking my eyes off you, honey. You shower, I watch, to make sure you don’t do anything else stupid.’
She took a lot less time than I had: she was in and out of there in under two minutes. I found a Bellagio robe hanging behind the door and handed it to her. ‘You’ll dry in that,’ I said. Then I took her back to the wardrobe and tied her up again.
‘What are you doing?’ she protested.
‘Call it a citizen’s arrest,’ I told her. ‘You and I are going to have a long talk, but only when I’m good and ready. Until then you’re staying here. Oh, yes, and don’t think about yelling again. There’s nobody out there who’ll come to help you.’
I looked at her. ‘You did it so well, you know. You did meet a guy at Gleneagles two years ago, and he was registered as Wallinger, but it was after the real Paul had his stroke. You’ve really been setting me up for that long?’
She nodded; there was an air of triumph about her. ‘I really have.’
‘What did you use on me? Rohypnol?’
‘Hell, no, that turns everything blue these days. I used stuff called GHB; it’s known on the street as Fantasy, or sometimes Georgia Home Boy, or even GBH. Colourless, odourless and virtually tasteless; you’d never notice it in a bottle of Chablis . . . and, Oz, my love, I’ve never seen you turn down a glass of Chablis in my life. Its effects, mixed with alcohol . . . well, big boy, you know about them now.’ She paused. ‘So do I, come to think of it. Expansive, you might say; I must try it on someone again sometime.’
She frowned. ‘I wasn’t sure about the dose, though. If we’d overdone it you’d have gone comatose on me, but as it turned out we didn’t give you quite enough.’
I hated to think what any more would have done to me. ‘That’s just one small detail, though; you were so bloody meticulous with everything else, but what about the breakin at your flat? Why did you fake that?’
‘To back up the Paul identity, of course. We set up a fake account for him with a bookie, then built up some debts just before it was time to make our move, to give everyone who might investigate yet another reason for him to have done a bunk. I knew that you and your spy Kravitz would go looking for him. We had to give you something to find.’
‘What did you do with the diamonds?’
‘They’re in a safe deposit box in Los Angeles.’
‘And the money? It never was out of your control, was it?’
She laughed at me. ‘Oh, come on, Oz, of course it wasn’t. You don’t think I’d be that bloody stupid, do you?’
‘So what’s in it for your partner?’
‘One third.’
‘One third of what?’
‘You’ll find out.’ I was sure that I would, and even in my still slightly dazed condition, I could guess how.
‘Why not an even split?’
She gazed at me as if I was simple. ‘Because it was all my idea, my brainchild. I even put up the expenses. One third’s quite generous, all things considered.’
‘And all of it done just to get even with me? That’s what it was all about?’
‘You and that bitch Susie. You don’t think I ever forgave her either, do you?’
‘But why wait so long?’
‘I wanted you to be really big-time, so that when I did get even it would hurt all the more . . . as it’s going to. When I saw how well Red Leather had done, I knew it was time. You’re a big star now.’
‘Kind of you to say so, but that’s not what I meant. Why drag me all across America?’
‘To be truthful ...’
‘That’ll be a novelty for you.’
‘Very funny . . . We were going to do it that first night in Minneapolis, but when you signed up for Las Vegas, I decided to spin it out for a while. I was hoping I wouldn’t need the drug to set you up. I gave you all the inducements I could, but no, Oz, you really have gone straight, haven’t you?’
‘So what made you pick today?’
‘I asked the concierge if she knew where you’d gone, and she told me. I knew it wasn’t to any film set, because I followed you downstairs this morning and saw you get into a car with Hawkins Air on the side.’
‘So you knew where the real Paul was?’
‘Oh, yes.’
Until then, I’d been fascinated; for the first time I was repelled. ‘In that case, setting his mother up like that was pretty cruel.’ I was tired of her, and I’d heard almost enough. ‘What makes you think we haven’t caught your partner, the phoney Paul?’ I asked.
‘If you had, you wouldn’t be in here talking to me like this, would you?’
‘In that case, are you going to save me some time by telling me who he is?’
‘Why the hell should I?’ she retorted, her eyes spitting fire at me now, not lust. ‘This isn’t going to make any difference, you know. You’re done, Oz. You just don’t know how badly yet.’
My wicked side smiled. ‘Don’t underrate yourself, baby. I thought I was pretty spectacularly done, actually.’ I closed the wardrobe door on her and went back to the boys.
‘What’s happened?’ Everett asked. He was worried, and although he’s a good friend, I knew it wasn’t just my welfare that was on his mind. He had a lot of money sunk in the Serious Impact project, and I was an integral part of it.
‘Remember all that stuff I told you, about Prim’s problem?’ I told him. ‘It’s all a front; she fooled me every step of the way. I shouldn’t be in your movie, she should. What a fucking actress she is! I’ve known her for a good chunk of my life now, I’ve been married to her, and yet she fooled me. What a performance!’
I took my palm-top pocket PC from the pocket of my gaudy new Paul Smith shirt. It’s top-of-the-range, an amazing piece of kit; it’ll play you music, it’ll show you pictures, it’ll let you go online and it’ll even record sound. I switched it to playback and let them hear everything that Prim had said.
‘Jaysus,’ Liam gasped, when it was done, reverting to his Irish accent. ‘I hope nobody ever gets as mad with me as she is with you.’
‘What happens now?’ asked Everett.
‘In a very short time, I’m going to get a message. Going by past performance it’ll be an e-mail.’
I went over to the laptop and booted it up, then logged on to AOL; my mailbox was empty, but I left it open. For safety’s sake, I linked up the pocket machine and p
ut a copy of Prim’s voice file on the laptop’s hard drive. For even greater insurance, I opened it and edited out my last two sentences.
I’d only just finished when the AOL lady told me I had mail. ‘That was bloody quick,’ I exclaimed. Everett and Liam both looked up. I clicked the box open and verified that the new message was from Paul Wallinger Mark Two. ‘It’s him,’ I told them. ‘He’s got to be close by.’
‘He could have had a car in the hotel park,’ Liam suggested. ‘He could be miles away.’
‘Then why did he run away from it?’
‘He could have grabbed a cab on the Strip.’
‘That shows how often you’ve been outside. Las Vegas taxis aren’t allowed to pick up passengers on the street, only from hotels. With you on his tail he wouldn’t have gone and stood in the queue across at Bally’s. He’s got a bolt-hole, and it’s not far from here.’
I turned back to the laptop and clicked open the message. It went straight to the point:
You take an excellent picture, Mr Blackstone, but then we’ve always known that. These should go down well with certain newspapers in every part of the English speaking world, and in Europe too. They’ll take you from Class A status to Class Z in an instant; you may get work as a porn star but that will be it.
If you want to avoid this, and keep your career into the bargain, it will cost you five million pounds sterling. I realise that it may take a couple of days to raise that sort of cash, so that’s what you’ve got: two days. During that time, you will transfer that amount into P. Phillips account Number 2 in Fairmile and Company, Vancouver, British Columbia. If the money isn’t there next Thursday morning, you will be as notorious world-wide as you were famous in San Francisco last week, only much more so.
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