Not My Thing

Ng moved forward and gently adjusted the skirt of the dress. He stood for some minutes looking down at her. What a beautiful woman! he thought, and again this sensation of sex and love moved through him. He felt he could stand there and look at her forever, but he made an effort and turned away. He went into the tiny kitchen and inspected the refrigerator which was packed with Quick frozen meals. He grimaced. Dreary food, he thought. He found a coffee percolator and two sacks of ground coffee. He inspected the bathroom and found towels and soap.

Then he returned to the bedroom and sat down in a lounging-chair, close to the bed. He watched Shannon, and waited, with oriental patience, for her to recover consciousness and as he watched her, his love for her grew.

He thought of Kling. He had asked Kling if he would release this unconscious woman.

It depends on Jamison. Don’t worry your head about that. You can leave all that to me.

He thought of what Kling had done for him and his mother. He had long ago realized that Kling’s way of life was influenced and directed by and for money.

Ng drew in a deep breath. Money? What was money?

All his life up to now, money had meant nothing to him except to buy food. Yet money seemed everything to Kling.

Ng moved restlessly.

Would Kling be so money crazy that he would kill this beautiful woman if her husband wouldn’t give him the money he was asking for?

Would he? Could he?

Ng again looked at Shannon. She now appeared to be sleeping.

He got to his feet and, for the first time in his life, he did something that set the blood moving through him and his heart pounding.

He gently lifted her hand and kissed it.

***

As Kling drove up to his motel cabin, Lucan came rushing out of his cabin. He caught hold of Kling’s arm as Kling got out of his car.

‘What happened?’ he demanded. There was sweat on his face and his eyes looked wild.

Kling regarded him with contempt.

‘Oh, for God’s sake, relax!’ he said. ‘It went as planned: as smooth as silk. She is now safely in the knocking-shop, and the kid is looking after her.’

Lucan moaned with relief.

‘I’ve been waiting and flipping my lid,’ he said. ‘Anything could have gone wrong!’

‘Not with me handling it,’ Kling said. ‘I’ll see Jamison tonight, and get the money out of him.’

‘Suppose he won’t pay?’

Kling gave a sneering laugh.

‘He will. I have him over a barrel. Take it easy, Lucky. I’m taking a swim.’

Lucan began to unwind.

‘You really mean this is going to work? I’ll get half a million?’

‘That’s it, Lucky. It’s really going to work.’

‘Have you fixed this Swiss account for me?’

Kling gave Lucan his evil smile.

‘I can’t do anything like that until Jamison pays up. Take it easy. I’ll fix it.’ Then shoving by Lucan, he went into his cabin and slammed the door.

Lucan returned to his own cabin.

A half a million dollars! he thought. Could he trust Kling? Once the money was in Switzerland, he would pack up and leave America. He would settle probably in Monte Carlo. He paced the room, thinking. God! How he wished he could go now!

He paused by the window to watch Kling, wearing swim-shorts, running down to the sea: his tall, lean body moving with perfect rhythm.

The time was nearly 09.00. Lucan went into the kitchenette and heated up coffee. Kling had said he wouldn’t be seeing Jamison until tonight. As he sipped the coffee, he thought of the long hours ahead. Kling seemed so sure he could handle Jamison. Could he? Jamison was a tough, ruthless sonofabitch!

Then he became aware that someone was knocking on his cabin door. Frowning, he put down his coffee-cup, went to the door and opened it. He was shocked to find himself facing the fat, balding Sydney Drysdale of The Paradise City Herald. The last person he wanted to see!

‘Hi, Lucky,’ Drysdale said with his fat, oily smile. ‘I was passing so I thought I would look in.’

‘Sorry, Syd,’ Lucan said, his voice shaking. ‘I – I’ve got a date. Some other time, huh?’

‘Who was that tall, lean tough you were talking to?’

Lucan felt sweat start out on his face.

‘Oh, that guy? I don’t even know his name. He lives down the way.’

‘Is that right?’ Drysdale was watching Lucan sweat. ‘Tell me, Lucky, how did you make out with Mrs Sherman Jamison?’

If Drysdale had punched him in the face, Lucan’s reaction couldn’t be more evident. He started back, his face turning a waxy white.

‘I don’t know what you are talking about,’ he gasped. ‘See you sometime, Syd,’ and he tried to close the door, but Drysdale’s enormous bulk held the door open.

‘Oh, come on, Lucky,’ he said. ‘I’ll keep it under the wraps. Have you screwed her yet?’

‘Get out!’ Lucan screamed hysterically. ‘Get out!’

Drysdale smiled.

‘A little disturbed, Lucky. Unlike you. See you,’ and he moved back allowing Lucan to slam the door.

Heavily, Drysdale plodded back to his car. He settled himself, lit a cigarette and did some thinking.