The Vulcan Disaster

When I did — struggling up to my feet, muttering unkind words under my breath — I got a look at him at last. He was one of your beach-boy types, with the bunched-up bicep and deltoid muscles that look so good under the lights in posing contests. Strong as hell. Not somebody to let close to you. His eyes were on me but his words were for her. “Here... what you do with this... this swine...”

“None of your business!” she yelled. It was a good lusty yell; I had to say that for her, she didn’t screech like a fishwife. “I told you I come and go where I please. I gave you one more chance and you did not come.” And there it went off into rapid-fire French, as quick on the tongue as the incredible Spanish the women talk in Madrid. She still had an accent, I noticed, but she had a fine vocabulary of gutter argot. It began with telling him his mother was a cow and went rapidly downhill from there.

I stood up and circled away from her. I noticed she’d gotten into my jacket. I didn’t think a good look at me would scare him. I don’t, after all, have those pretty bunched-up muscles and all, having trained for the kind you can actually do something with. And the rib bandage only added to his self-confidence: he was going to be insufferable in a minute.

I gave him another look. He was about my height; his hair was a shock of unruly black, and there was that Levantine olive cast to his skin and that definitely Mediterranean nose that told me he wasn’t standing too far from his birthplace. “Come on,” I said disgustedly. “I don’t feel like chasing you, and I haven’t got all day to wait for you to come to me. Let’s get it over with.”

He showed me a lot of white teeth. And the bellow he let out at me as he charged was dark and full of phlegm. The big fists were raised; one of them cocked back as he came forward in a rush.

I didn’t feel like screwing around this time. My ribs hurt and I was feeling nasty. I’d have a nice headache after that wallop he’d given me. I stepped aside and gave him a nice medium-strength karate chop in the Adam’s apple, not enough to put him out, just enough to drop him to his knees, gasping and holding his throat. Then I aimed another one at his collarbone and only pulled it at the last moment. It landed him on his face on the rocky beach.

I looked down at him. He was still awake. I picked him up by the shirtcollar and dragged him to the waterline and dropped him on his kisser in two inches of ice-cold water. It woke him up all the way. He got up looking worse than I felt. He didn’t even think about coming my way. He did give me a bad glare though. I shrugged and felt my aching ribs with one hand, watching him plod heavily away.

I turned and looked at the girl. She held the two halves of her swimsuit in one hand; the jacket was still thrown over her shoulders. She was looking at me with new eyes, and precisely what was in them I couldn’t say. After a moment her eyes dropped; she turned her back and slipped into her ridiculous little suit under the jacket.

“What,” I said, “was that the hell all about?”

“He thinks I am his. I have not encouraged him. I had a date with him earlier, just to keep the peace. He was late. I went with you to spite him.” She turned to face me, the bikini in place now. She handed me the jacket. “I am afraid you have made a terrible enemy. I do not know what he will do. I am sorry. I was foolish. I have caused you great trouble. Please... please forgive...”

“Never mind,” I said. “You could show me where the booze cabinet is, though. The doctor who put me in this corset is going to kill me when he sees this.”

“Poor Mr. Archer.” She moved close to me and put one soft hand on my arm. “I... I will try to make it up to you, for my foolishness. Please let me. Please forgive...”

And now she did melt into my arms. Briefly. And the green eyes that looked up at me out of that lovely face were concerned, deeply troubled. Then she kissed me, quick and hard, and it was my turn to step back and do a double-take. “No problem,” I said. “Not if you can find me a drink. And... Miss Weiner...”

“Vicki, please...”

“Okay, Vicki. And it’s Harry, right?”

“Oh, yes.” She smiled again and took my hand, leading me around the headland again. When we reached the beach I’d found her on I felt both of her little hands on mine, grasping hard, as she walked close, very close to me.

It’d been a hell of a meeting. No place to go but up.

Chapter Eighteen

In her room she went modest on me. She’d been stark naked with me on the beach, and now when we got back to her suite of rooms, what did she do when she got out of that bikini she’d almost been wearing? She handed me a drink and stepped behind a curtain.