Vulture is a Patient Bird

"Take it! Take it!" she screamed and fearing a scene, Burnett grabbed the recorder and the three tapes and hurriedly left. It was only on his way down in the lift that he realized she hadn't returned the expensive eavesdropping microphone. He wondered if he should go back for it, but her distraught face and the wild look in her eyes warned him not to. He would pick up the micro-, phone after the week-end when she would be calmer.

Some three hours later, Daz returned to the flat. He had already checked with Burnett who had told him the money was waiting for him.

Elated that he was going to lay his hands on such a sum, he had dated a chick to meet him at Billy Walker's Boozer that was once an elegant restaurant and from there they would go to a club in King's Road and from there into her bed.

He was through with Natalie. With a thousand pounds in hand and with his know-how, Dublin would be the place for him.

He was slightly startled when he entered the flat to find Natalie sitting on the settee, white faced, trembling and crying.

"What the hell's up?" he demanded, thinking how ugly she looked.

She dabbed her eyes and straightened.

"I have the money, Daz."

He moved further into the room.

"You have? What are you so miserable about? You oughta be pleased."

"Judas wasn't pleased . . . he hanged himself."

Daz had vaguely heard of Judas. He wasn't sure who he was, but he had an idea he was a baddie and not a goodie.

"What are you talking about? Who's hanging who?"

"Nothing . . . you wouldn't understand. Are you hungry?" He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Where's the money?"

"You're not hungry? I've bought you a steak."

"To hell with the steak. Where's the money?"

Looking at him, she was shocked to see the greed on the lean, handsome face.

She got unsteadily to her feet and went to a cupboard. She brought the money to him in neat stacks.

It made her heart contract to watch him fondle the money. This couldn't be the man she loved so desperately who had opened the hidden door in her life: this was a greedy, vicious young animal who mauled the money as he had mauled her body.

"Are you pleased?"

He ignored her and began stuffing the money into his various pockets.

"What are you doing?" Her voice went shrill.

He stowed away the last packet of money and then regarded her.

"Getting the hell out of here . . . that's what I'm doing."

"You mean now you have the money, you — you don't want me?"

"Who the hell would want you?" He pointed a finger at her. "I'm going to give you some advice. From now on, baby, keep your legs tightly crossed. That's your trouble. You dig your own grave," and he was gone.

Natalie stood motionless, her hand against her slow thumping heart. She listened to the lift descend, taking him out of her life forever.

Then she walked slowly to a chair and sat down. She remained there as the hands of the clock on the wall moved around its face, marking the hours. Then when the light began to fade she eased her stiffness by stretching out her long, slim legs. Her mind began to work again. After all, she told herself, why should he care? I could have guessed what was going to happen. She closed her eyes. Now her lack of charm and her plainness was underlined as it had never before been so underlined. She realized all along she had been praying, waiting, hoping for a miracle, but this wasn't the year of miracles.

She thought of the long, lonely nights ahead of her. She knew too that her conscience would be burdened by the guilt of her betrayal. She had done this disgusting act of disloyalty only to keep Daz for herself. Why go on? She asked herself. You can't hope to live with yourself . . . so why go on?

She went into the kitchen, moving slowly like a sleepwalker and found a small, sharp vegetable knife. Taking this with her, she paused to put the front door on the latch, then she went into the bathroom. She turned on the bath taps and stood in a black daze until the bath was half full of tepid water. She kicked off her shoes and stepped into the bath. Her pleated skirt ballooned out and she pressed it down. She felt the comforting water soak through her clothes to her despairing body.

She lay still. Would it hurt? They said it was the easiest way to die. Gritting her teeth, she drew the sharp blade across her left wrist. She cut deeply and she fought back a cry of pain. The knife slipped from her hand. For a brief moment, she looked at the water surrounding her, now turning pink and darkening, then she closed her eyes.

She lay there, thinking of Daz with his handsome face and his long black curly hair and his beautiful strong body until she quietly slid away from a life she no longer had use for.

Chapter Four

Armo Shalik returned to his suite at 08.30 hrs. on Monday morning. He was met by Sherborn who reported that Fennel was in Paris. He explained the circumstances while Shalik sat at his desk, glowering at him.

"I hope I did right, sir. Had I know where to contact you, I would, of course, have consulted you."