Chapter 16
The next night, a few minutes before eight, Steve and Donna drove out past the airport to the new luxury development known as Nelson's Estates. They loafed along in Kramer's Cutlass until they saw the light over the address post of a large, rambling ranch home. Kramer compared the address with the one on a scrap of paper in his hand.
"This is it, baby," he said. "We'd better park up the street and jack the car, like we just had a flat." He eyed the white-painted steel gate and intercom box. "We'd never get in without identification, anyway. That gate's electrically controlled."
Donna agreed. "You're in charge, Steve, darling."
He stopped the Cutlass in the shadow of a tree a hundred feet away. No sooner had he jacked the car and laid out the tools than another set of headlights came along behind them, pulling up to the gate where they had been a couple of minutes before.
Kramer dropped a wrench and stepped into the shrubbery to have a closer look. There was enough room between a hedge and a chainlink fence for a grown man to walk upright. "You stay here," he told Donna.
He reached a point just a dozen yards from the new arrivals, then paused to listen.
Shan Hartgrave stepped out of the driver's side of her Firebird. She walked up to the gate to use the intercom. After hanging up, she returned to the car, staggering slightly. She wished she hadn't had the last two drinks that Mel had bought her. He was turning into a lush, and so was she.
Mel's head lolled against the back of the seat. The collar was loose on his crinkle-ribbed shirt. His tie, spotted with whiskey stains, was a mess. "Are we in, or aren't we?" he demanded, slurring the words.
She looked at him in disgust. "I don't know how you got in that condition, lover. I'm a little looped myself, but you-you're ridiculous. Hugh's going to be furious with both of us."
He hiccupped. "Don't worry about little old Mel. I'll be all right."
"When we get inside, you go straight to the kitchen," she said severely. "I'll be there in a minute and try to sober you up."
"Awright," he mumbled.
Shan started the car again and drove through the gate, which had opened automatically. The gate closed again behind her. She started up the winding drive to the parking area behind the swimming pool. She halted next to the other vehicles.
She realized that she wasn't too steady on her feet herself, certainly not steady enough to help Mel inside. But she managed to get him out of the car and up the steps of a side entrance. She tried the door and it opened. Everyone else seemed to be out by the pool, so she pushed him inside and pointed him toward the kitchen. But she wasn't at all sure that he could find his way there. "Don't you dare make me ashamed of you, Mel Martin," she threatened.
"Who's shamed?" he blustered, then shuffled along the strange hallway to only he knew where.
Shan despaired of salvaging him. She could only hope the Laurens wouldn't be too angry.
Kramer watched the gate close again and the lights of the Firebird twinkle out of sight. Then he returned to his own car, where Donna was nervously awaiting him.
"Did you see the girl? That was Shan Hartgrave, who hustles fresh talent for the Laurens. Guess who her passenger was." Kramer saw Donna's face change. "That's right. Your wandering husband. They're reporting for duty, the two of them."
Donna clenched her hands into fists. "Damn him!" Her lips trembled in the darkness. "It's true, then."
"Afraid so." Kramer glanced around to see if anyone had noticed them. No one had. "If we're going in ourselves, we'll have to go over the fence. Or find a way under. If I tell them who I am, they'll have fits, every one of them. Maybe call the Taw. Are you game?"
She hesitated. "I'm not sure. They could have us arrested for trespassing. I've never been arrested before in my life."
He reached through the car window and opened the glove compartment. There was a half-full bottle of Scotch inside. He pressed the whisky into her hands. "Here, take a couple of swallows of this. You want to see with your own eyes what Mel's doing, don't you? Otherwise, how would you know? You think I've been exaggerating about what party boys have to do to earn high fees. So let's hit it."
She drank twice on the Scotch, coughed, then put the bottle back in the compartment. "I know you're right. I want to see it for myself. What if he's only a bouncer or something?"
Kramer chuckled in spite of himself. "And I suppose Shan's been hired to do card tricks. You're so naive, darling, but maybe that's why I love you." He brushed her lips with his.
"Let's go before I change my mind." She climbed out of the car.
Kramer led her back the way he had come, between the hedge and the fence. After checking to make sure no new car was approaching, they ran past the lighted gate to the darkness on the other side. For five minutes they prowled through the foliage, rounding two comers and reaching the rear before discovering a short gate locked with a length of chain. They congratulated one another. The gate was low enough to climb over.
Clever landscaping prevented them from seeing the pool and the patio surrounding it, but they could hear the sounds of merriment. Another party was starting up. They listened for a minute, then he helped her over the gate, clambering over after her. Hearts thudding, they stood for a moment holding one another. He began to wish he had brought a gun.
"Scared?"
Donna nodded in the gloom. "Aren't you?"
"Yeah, but we've got a job to do. Follow me and stay close."
Two conspirators with a common purpose, they began creeping toward the source of the merriment.
Out by the pool, the last party was in full swing. Some of the people were completely new, having been rounded up by Mel or Shan only a day or so prior. Nude lovelies of every description flaunted their big breasts and ample buttocks, while Hugh Laurens, sentimental for a change, admired them all from where he sat in a director's chair.
Shan stood next to him. She heard him saying something to her, and she bent low to hear what it was.
"I don't like the way Mel's been acting lately. He looks like he's been out rehearsing for the lead in Falstaff. In fact, where is he right now? He should be out here."
"He's in the kitchen having a cup of coffee," Shan replied.
"Get him out here," Laurens snapped. "Everyone else is ready to swing, and that meathead's drinking coffee? Get him out here!"
"Yes, Mister Laurens." Shan, mouth twitching, turned away. She started around the swimming pool to go into the house. She spied Lee Scanlon halfway around, however, and stopped to greet him.
"Hello, baby," he grinned, then pretended to look in front of and behind her for the missing Mel Martin. "Your lead dog gone astray?"
Shan laughed. "He's inside drying out. Mel's having a problem with corks lately. He's trying to collect every last one he can get his hands on."
Scanlon shrugged. He seemed to have had one or two drinks himself. "Who needs him. See this?" He stood up and lowered his swimming trunks. A magnificent hard-on sprang forth. "If you've got a minute...." he suggested, smiling.
She pushed him away halfheartedly, one eye on Hugh Laurens. When he told her to do something, he usually meant it. But Hugh was wrapped up in a gorgeous young redhead whom Shan had never seen before. Shan relented. "Well, all right."
She lay on her back on the cool bricks. Lee yanked her hot pants down and knelt over her.
"This one won't do you for the evening," he panted. "Just get your rocks off. Know what I mean?"
She knew what he meant.
Kramer had found a ladder leaning against a shed and had moved it to the rear of the bath house. He could hear loud laughter and water splashing as he climbed gingerly up the rungs.
Kneeling on the roof of the bath house, he looked down on the pool and patio. The scene below was right out of a Roman orgy. A dozen couples of every age and description were engaging in every sexual practice known to modern man. No one was holding back.
Kramer descended to fetch up Donna. "Come on," he said softly. "You'll flip when you see this."
She followed him to the top of the flat roof, keeping her head low.
Kramer flung out his hands. "Behold."
Donna beheld, then promptly clapped a hand to her mouth to keep from crying out. "Merciful heaven!" she breathed, gazing across the pool area. Her eyes took in the men's different-sized cocks and the women's big bouncing breasts and full-blown buttocks. "I've never seen anything like this before in my life! They're doing everything!"
Kramer watched her face as she continued to observe the torrid action. She appeared to be enjoying it, in a horrified sort of way, which surprised him. When he saw her licking her lips, he slid his hand beneath her short skirt, up the back of her thighs, then to the crotch of her panties. The fabric was soaking wet. He worked two fingers under the thin elastic and into her cunt.
Donna, rather than slapping him away, balanced precariously on one hand and returned the caress, fondling the end of his cock through the material of his slacks. She laughed shakily. "I don't know if it's the Scotch or not, but I almost wish we were down there with them. Don't you?"
Kramer agreed. "But we can't afford to be mixed up with that bunch. Not for money or anything else."
Donna sighed. "I know. Please forget I said it. I-" She seemed to suddenly remember why they had come. She looked about desperately for Mel. "Do you see him, Steve? Do you? Please tell me if you do. I'm beginning to think you were mistaken. Maybe that was someone else you saw in the car."
Kramer held her arm to keep her from falling. He squeezed. "I wasn't mistaken. You'll spot him soon enough. You may be sorry when you do."
No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Mel and Shan came out of the house and staggered around the far end of the pool. They were both holding each other up, although Mel obviously had the worse of it.
"Look!" Kramer whispered, pointing.
When Donna finally let herself recognize the man whom she had married, a nude young girl walked past him. Mel unhesitatingly grabbed her and buried his face between her flapping boobs. "No!" Donna screamed. She tore herself loose from Kramer's grasp and went half-sliding, half-falling into the lush grass below them.
Kramer was aghast. Now they were both undone. Because everyone was looking their way now, and all conversation had ceased, he followed her, clinging by his hands from the roof's overhang, then dropping onto the grass beside her.
Donna had hit the ground running. She rushed across the patio and slapped her amazed spouse hard across the face, once, twice, three times. She even spat upon him. "Animal!" she shouted, in a voice everyone in Nelson's Estates could hear. "Degenerate!" Then she whirled toward Shan and confirmed what everyone there had probably suspected: Shan's long, black hair was not her own. The wig came off in Donna's hand. Donna flung the wig to the bricks and stomped on it.
Hugh Laurens, rising from his conquest of a young redhead, grabbed a beach towel and wrapped it around his middle as he ran toward them. His wife, Jennifer, left the young man she was with and came to join him. "What's going on here?" Laurens demanded, livid with anger. "Who are you?"
"I happen to be Mel Martin's wife," Donna sobbed, dissolving into tears. "Or at least I was."
"You drunken fool!" Laurens hissed at Mel.
"I'll have you all arrested!" Donna vowed, near hysteria and showing it.
Laurens would have seized and throttled her, only someone grabbed his arms. "If anyone gets arrested, it'll be you two!" he thundered. "You're trespassing on my property! Get moving, both of you!"
Steve Kramer, paralyzed in the grass, finally found his voice and his legs. He ran to Donna's side. "I'm with Mrs. Martin and I happen to be a witness to everything that's going on here. But we'll leave at once." He tugged her away before she could stop him.
They found their car and drove off as fast as they could go, she crying on his shoulder and he trying to comfort her. It was last night all over again, he thought, except now she really was his. His to marry if he wanted to. He decided he did.
"How-fast can a person get a divorce in this state?" she asked.
Kramer grinned and checked the car's rearview mirror for signs of pursuit. "Depends on whether or not it's contested. In your case, I think you're worrying over nothing. Kiss?"
She kissed him through three traffic lights and a stop sign.
Hugh Laurens fixed Mel Martin with a terrible glare. Shan, too. "You drunken bastard, get out of here!" he roared. "And take her with you! Don't bother to come in Monday, either, because you're fired!"
Mel, sobering in an instant, bundled Shan, kicking and resisting, back to their car.
"Let go of me!" she raged, hitting at him with ineffectual fists. "Who do you think you are? Where are you taking me?"
"You'll see," Mel said grimly. He stuffed her in the driver's side and squeezed behind the wheel himself, although he really was in no shape to drive. "That moron can't fire me like this! We'll take one of his planes and skip the country." He hit the starter and made the Firebird's mill turn over.
"What?" Shan looked at him as if he was crazy.
"You heard me." He drove them toward the gate at break-neck speed. Someone had pressed the automatic button beside the pool, so he wasn't obliged to stop. Martin fumbled inside his coat. "I've got money. See?" He produced a wallet bulging with currency-the proceeds from his months as a hired stud.
Shan huddled on the passenger side and began to cry. "You dirty bum!" she sobbed. "You've ruined everything. Everything. I'll have to give up ray apartment and all the other luxuries. Even the car."
"You'll give up nothing!" he retorted. "After we're married, I'll make it up to you."
She raised her head to stare contemptuously at him. "You'll make it up to me! Why, you drunken idiot, I wouldn't marry you if you were the last man on earth! You weakling, you make me sick to my stomach!"
"Shut up!" He drove faster, taking the shortest possible route to the airport, screeching through turns and running traffic lights. He turned into the unattended gate inside the fence, bringing them up short in front of Airways' fleet of airplanes. They stopped in a stench of scorched rubber. He jumped out and dragged her after him, having to struggle to keep his feet and maintain a grasp on the girl at the same time. Mel staggered with his burden toward the Comanche on the far apron. He knew Laurens kept it gassed for his own personal use on Sunday afternoons.
Shan fought with him to free herself, digging long fingernails into his hands and arms, kicking at his shins and feet. "No!" she wailed. "I'm not going with you! Oh, dear God, let me go!"
"We're going to meet God," Mel laughed, pinning her arms to her side so that she couldn't flail at him any more. When she realized that he meant it, most of the fight went out of her. He reached the Comanche and thrust her inside, scrambling in himself and securing the door. He idled the plane for less than a minute before releasing the brake and taxiing toward the north runway.
"No, Mel, no!" Shan pleaded, trying vainly to open a cabin door.
Mel disregarded both the girl and the tower, which was exhorting him to identify himself and follow accepted take-off procedures. He gunned down the north runway. When he pulled back the wheel, the Comanche faltered and almost stalled, but managed to clear the field and the obstructions beyond. Mel's heart seemed to drop out of his throat and return to his chest. "Tomorrow Mexico City!" he crowed. "The next day ... who knows?"
"You're insane!" Shan wept.
"We'll sell the plane and live off the money. I know how to forge the papers. Or maybe we'll keep it and start our own charter service. Would you like that, baby?" He reached out with a free hand to squeeze her shoulder, but she slapped the hand away.
The altimeter read two thousand feet when Shan suddenly dove for the control wheel, trying to wrest it from his hands.
"Get away, damn it!" he swore at her.
"Make me!"
Mel was struggling with her, trying to regain the wheel, when she threw all her weight on it. The plane nose-dived for the lights below. "You're going to get us killed!" he gasped.
"Why not? There's nothing to live for!" she taunted, pressing harder.
He slapped her away and pulled back on the wheel with all his strength. Nothing happened. They were in a dive that neither the plane's metal nor its power plant was built to handle. In mingled fascination and horror, Mel watched the lights below zooming up to meet them. They were doomed.
Just before the man, the girl and the plane exploded in a single ball of fire, Mel had time to utter one word.
"WRONG!" he screamed.