Like A Hole In The Head

     "You talked to Mrs. Willington," Savanto said. "Did you tell her about the shooting?"

     "No."

     He studied me, his black eyes glittering.

     "I hope you are not lying. If Diaz doesn't come out on the bay, then I will know you have lied. I will avenge myself on your wife. Do you understand?"

     "Yes."

     He nodded, his eyes still probing my face.

     "There now seems doubt that you will hit him when he is skiing. Is that right?"

     "I'll hit him, but I don't guarantee to kill him."

     The pain from the burn was subsiding. I looked down at the livid red mark on my chest. I imagined Lucy having to wear that mark on her face for the rest of her days. I suddenly didn't give a damn about Diaz Savanto.

     "I told you this is the age of miracles," Savanto said. "I expect a miracle from you."

     I knew, after seeing Nancy in the telescopic sight, that I could kill Diaz. I would kill him and this nightmare would finish.

     I looked steadily at him.

     "I'll kill him," I said.

Our eyes locked.

"Would you say that again, Mr. Benson?"

"I'll kill him."

He nodded, then heaved himself out of the chair.

     "Yes, I was sure I had chosen the right man," he said, half to himself. "Yes, you will kill him." He moved to the top of the verandah steps, then he took off his hat, looked inside it, then put it hack on his head. "I expected trouble from you, Mr. Benson. You are a man of character. I am sorry I had to deal so harshly with you. I can understand you didn't realise how serious this affair is. You know now. It is better for you to suffer to find out this is a serious business than for your wife to suffer. I again assure you that she will be returned to you . . . a little frightened, of course, but quite unharmed. You have said you will kill him. I am satisfied." He looked beyond me at Raimundo. "Give me a cigarette."

     Raimundo shook his head.

     "Your Doc says you should lay off cigarettes, Mr. Savanto."

     Savanto held out his hand.

     "Fortunately for me, you are not my doctor. A cigarette!"

     Carlo came forward with a pack. He lit the cigarette for Savanto who continued to stare at Raimundo.

     "You see? Carlo does what I ask."

     In spite of the pain from the burn, I was suddenly alert. I looked at Raimundo.

     "Carlo is an animal," he said quietly. "I am more responsible."

     "Yes." Savanto drew in smoke and let it drift down his nostrils. He looked at me. "You have been clever, Mr. Benson. You wanted to find your wife. You have found her. She is there with Timoteo. Now I have your word that you will kill Diaz I am pleased to tell you this. You have seen the house. She has everything she needs. I told you that. I didn't expect you to believe me, but now you have seen for yourself. It is a very beautiful house, isn't it?"

     I didn't say anything.

     "She is quite well and safely guarded, Mr. Benson," Savanto went on. "She is very well guarded." There was a long pause while he puffed at his cigarette, then he said, "Tomorrow at 14.00, Timoteo will come here. At 14.30 I and Lopez will arrive. You are entirely responsible for the arrangements and the successful conclusion of the operation." He stared at me, his black eyes like stones. "Is that understood?"

     The veil of this nightmare was smothering me.

     "Yes," I said.

* * *

     The shadows from the palm trees were lengthening. The sun was sinking in a blood-red glow that lit up the horizon. The light turned the sand dunes into lunar formations. It was hot : a tropical evening with no wind and complete silence.

     I was lying on the bed by the window in my small, airless room. In spite of the ointment the burn was still painful. To forget the pain, my mind moved into the past. I thought of my first meeting with Nick Lewis when he had told me the school was for sale. This meeting had started the nightmare. I thought again of my first meeting with Lucy and of our first wonderful month together. I thought of the black Cadillac coming up the drive and of our hopes that here at last was a good paying client. It all seemed a long time ago. I wondered what Lucy was doing at this moment. I was thankful she didn't know what was happening to me. I had told Savanto I would kill Diaz . . . so I would kill him.

     During my service in Vietnam I had killed eighty-two Vietcong: an average of twenty-seven hostile men a year. Most of them had been snipers like myself : a professional killing a professional. I could have been killed myself, but I had been lucky and that shade better at concealing myself and moving more silently through the jungle than they. I had dreamed of the first few snipers I had killed, but after a while I had become callous. But I knew I would have Diaz on my conscience in spite of knowing he was less than an animal, and in spite of knowing I was forced to kill him. This would be something I would have to live with for the rest of my days. It was essential to me that Lucy should never know. This killing had to be something I wasn't sharing with anyone . . . especially Lucy.