The Judas Goat Part 10

Kathie sat at the counter in the small kitchen and watched us without understanding.

The house was small and lovingly done. The kitchen was pine-paneled and the cabinets were new. The adjoining dining room had an antique table and on the wall a pair of antlers, obviously home-shot. The living room had little furniture and a worn rug. Everything was clean and careful. In one corner was an old television with the screen outlined in white, giving the illusion of greater screen size. There were three small bedrooms upstairs, and a bath. One of the bedrooms was obviously a room for boys, with twin beds, two bureaus and a host of wildlife pictures and stuffed animals. The bathroom was pink.

It was a house that its owners loved. It made me ill at ease to be here with Hawk and Kathie. We had no business in a house like this.

Hawk went out and bought some beer and wine and cheese and French bread, and we ate and drank in near silence. After supper Kathie went up to one of the small bedrooms, filled with dolls and dust ruffles, and went to bed, with her clothes on. She still wore the white linen dress. It was getting pretty wrinkled but there wasn't a change of clothes. Hawk and I watched some of the Olympic action on CBC. We were on the wrong side of the mountain to get U.S. stations and thus most of the coverage focused on Canadians, not many of whom were in medal contention.

We finished up the beer and wine and went to bed before eleven o'clock, exhausted from traveling and silent and out of place in the quiet suburb among artifacts of family.

I slept in the boys' room, Hawk in the master bedroom. There were early bird sounds but the room was still dark when I woke up and saw Kathie standing at the foot of the bed. The door was closed behind her. She turned the light on. Her breath in the silence was short and heavy. She wore no clothes. She was the kind of woman who should take her clothes off when she can. She looked best without them; the proportions were better than they looked dressed. She did not seem to be carrying a concealed weapon. I was naked and on top of the covers in the warm summer. It embarra.s.sed me. I slid under the sheet until I was covered from the waist down and rolled on to my back.

I said, "Hard to sleep these hot nights, isn't it?"

She walked across the room and dropped to her knees beside the bed and settled back with her b.u.t.tocks resting on her heels.

"Maybe a little warm milk," I said.

She took my left hand where it was resting on my chest and pulled it over to her and held it between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "Sometimes counting. sheep helps," I said. My voice was getting a little hoa.r.s.e.

Her breath was very short, as if she'd been sprinting, and the place between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s was damp with sweat. She said, "Do with me what you will."

"Wasn't that the t.i.tle of a book?" I said.

"I'll do anything," she said, "You may have me. I'll be your slave. Anything." She bent over, keeping my hand between her b.r.e.a.s.t.s and began to kiss me on the chest. Her hair smelled strongly of shampoo and her body of soap. She must have bathed before she came in.

"I'm not into slaves, Kath," I said.

Her kisses were moving down over my stomach. I felt like a p.u.b.escent billy goat.

"Kathie," I said. "I barely know you. I mean I thought we were just friends."

She kept kissing. I sat up in bed and pulled my hand away from her sternum. She slid onto the bed as I made room, her whole body insinuated against me, her left hand running along my back.

"Strong," she gasped. "Strong, so strong. Press me down, force me."

I took hold of both her hands at the wrists and held them down in front of her. She twisted over and flopped on her back, her legs apart. Her mouth half open, making small creature sounds in her throat. The bedroom door opened and Hawk stood in it in his shorts, crouched slightly, bent for trouble. His face relaxed and broadened into pleasure as he watched.

"G.o.dd.a.m.n," he said.

"It's okay, Hawk," I said. "No trouble." My voice was very hoa.r.s.e.

"I guess not," he said. He closed the door and I could hear his thick velvet laugh in the hall. He said through the closed door, "Hey, Spenser. You want me to stay out here and hum 'Boots and Saddles' sort of soft while you're, ah, subduing the suspect?"

I let that pa.s.s. Kathie seemed uninterrupted.

"Him too," she gasped. "Both at once if you wish." She was almost boneless, sprawled on the bed, arms and legs flung out, her body wet with sweat.

"Kathie, you gotta find some other way to relate with people. Killing and s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g have their place but there are other alternatives." I was croaking now. I cleared my throat loudly. My body felt like there was too much blood in it. I was nearly ready to paw the ground and whinny.

"Please," she said, her voice now barely audible "please."

"No offense, honey, but no."

"Please," she was hissing now. Her body writhed or the bed. She arched her pelvis up, as she had when Hawl searched her in Amsterdam. "Please. " I still held her hands.

The more I held her and denied her the more she seemed to respond. It was a form of abuse and it excited her. Embarra.s.sing or not, I had to get up. I slid out from unde the sheet and slipped off the bed, rolling over her legs as I did. She used the s.p.a.ce I'd left to spread out wider in a position of enlarged vulnerability. One of the animal behaviorists would say she was in extreme submission. I was in extreme randiness. I took my Levis off the chair and put them on. I was careful zipping them up. With them on I felt better.

Kathie was alone now, I think she wasn't even aware of me. Her breath came in thin hisses as it squeezed out between her teeth. She writhed and arched on the bed, the sheets a wet tangle beneath her. I didn't know what to do. I felt like sucking my thumb but Hawk might come in and catch me. I wished Susan were here. I wished I weren't. I sat on the other bed in the room, both feet on the floor, ready to jump if she came for me, and watched her.

The window got gray and then pink. The bird sounds increased, some trucks drove by somewhere outside, not many, and not often. The sun was up. In the other half of the duplex, water ran. Kathie stopped wrenching herself around. I heard Hawk get up next door and the shower start. Kathie's breathing was quiet. I got up and went to my suitcase and took out one of my s.h.i.+rts and handed it to her. "Here," I said. "I don't have a robe, but this might do. Later we'll buy you some clothes."

"Why," she said. Her voice was normal now but flat, and very soft.

"Because you need some. You've been wearing that dress for a couple of days now."

"I mean why didn't you take me?"

"I'm sort of spoken for," I said.

"You don't want me."

"Part of me does, I was jumping out of my skin. But it's not my style. It has to do with love. And, ah, your, your approach wasn't quite right."

"You think I'm corrupt."

"I think you're neurotic."

"You f.u.c.king pig."

"That approach doesn't do it either," I said. "Though Lots of people have used it on me."

She was quiet, but a pink flush smudged across each cheekbone.

The shower stopped and I heard Hawk walk back to the bedroom.

"I guess I'll shower now," I said. "You ought to be out of here and wearing something when I'm through. Then we'll all have a nice breakfast and plan our day."

22.

My s.h.i.+rt reached nearly to Kathie's knees and she ate breakfast in it, silently, perched on a stool at the counter with her knees together. Hawk sat across the counter, splendid in a bell-sleeved white s.h.i.+rt. He was wearing a gold earring in his right ear, and a thin gold chain tight around his neck. The Bouchers had left some eggs and some white bread. I steam-fried the eggs with a small splash of white wine, and served the toast with apple b.u.t.ter.

Hawk ate with pleasure, his movements exact and sure, like a surgeon, or at least as I hoped a surgeon's would be. Kathie ate without appet.i.te but neatly, leaving most of the eggs and half the toast on her plate.

I said, "There's some kind of clothing store down Boulevard St. Laurent. I saw it when we came up last night. Hawk, why don't you take Kathie down there and get her some clothes?"

"Maybe she rather go with you, babe."

Kathie said in a flat voice, softly, "I'd rather go with you, Hawk." It was the first time I could remember her using his name.

"You ain't gonna make a move on me in the car, are you?"

She dropped her head.

"Go ahead," I said. "I'll clean up here and then I'll think a little."

Hawk said, "Don't hurt yourself."

I said, "Kathie, put on some clothes."

She didn't move and she didn't look at me.

Hawk said, "Come on, girl, shake your a.s.s. You heard the man."

Kathie got up and went upstairs.

Hawk and I looked at each other. Hawk said, "You think she might be about to break the color barrier?"

"It's just that myth about your equipment," I said.

"Ain't no myth, man."

I took $100 Canadian out of my wallet and gave it to Hawk. "Here, buy her a hundred worth of clothes. Whatever she wants. Don't let her blow it on fancy lingerie though."

"From what I seen last night she ain't planning to wear none."

"Maybe tonight is your turn," I said.

"Didn't satisfy her, huh?"

"I didn't come across," I said. "I never do on the first date."

"Admire a man with standards, babe, I surely do. Suze be proud of you."

"Yeah."

"That why she so grouchy about you this morning. That why I looking better to her."

"She's a sicko, Hawk."

"Ah ain't planning to screw her psyche, babe."

I shrugged. Kathie came down the stairs in the wrinkled white linen. She went with Hawk without looking at me. When they were gone I washed the dishes, put everything away, and then I called Dixon's man, Jason Carroll, collect.

"I'm in Montreal," I said. "I have accounted for all the people on Dixon's list, and I suppose I should come home."

"Yes," Carroll said. "Flanders has been sending us reports and clippings. Mr. Dixon is quite satisfied with the first five. If you can verify the last four..."

"We'll get to that when I'm back in town. What I want to do now is talk to Dixon."

"About what?"

"I want to keep on for a while. I have the end of something and I want to pull it all the way out of its hole before I quit."

"You have been paid a good deal of money already, Spenser."

"That's why I want to talk with Dixon. You can't authorize it."

"Well, I don't..."

"Call him and tell him I want to talk. Then call me back. Don't act executive with me. We both know you are a glorified go-for."

"That's hardly true, Spenser, but we need not argue about that. I'll be in touch with Mr. Dixon, and I'll call you back. What is your number?"

I read him the number off the phone and hung up. Then I sat down in the spa.r.s.e living room and thought.

If Paul and Zachary were here, and maybe they were, they had tickets for the Olympics. Kathie had no idea which events. But it was pretty likely that they'd show up at the stadium. It was possible they were sport fans, but it was more likely that, sport fans or not, they had a plan to do in something or someone at the Olympics. A lot of African teams were boycotting, but not all. And on their track record they were pretty loose on who they damaged on behalf of the cause. There wasn't much to be gained by going to the Canadian cops. They were already s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g the security down as tight as they could after the horror show in Munich. If we got to them, all they could do was tell us to stay out of the way. And we didn't want to stay out of the way. So we'd do this without the cops.

If Paul wanted to make a gesture, the Olympic stadium was the place. It was the center of media attention. It was the place to look for him. To do that we needed tickets. I was figuring that Dixon could do that.

The phone rang. It was Carroll. "Mr. Dixon will see you," he said.

"Why not a phone call."

"Mr. Dixon doesn't do business on the phone. He'll see you at his home as soon as you can come."

"Okay. It's an hour flight. I'll be there this afternoon sometime. I'll have to check the flight schedule."

"Mr. Dixon will be there. Any time. He never goes out and he rarely sleeps."

"I'll be there sometime today."

I hung up, called the airport, booked a flight for after lunch. Called Susan Silverman and got no answer. Hawk came back with Kathie. They had four or five bags. Hawk had a long package done in brown paper.

"Picked up a new shotgun at a sporting goods store," he said. "After lunch I'll modify it."

Kathie went upstairs with the bags.

I said to Hawk, "I'm flying to Boston this afternoon, be back tomorrow morning."

"Remember me to Suze," he said.

"If I see her."