Chapter 6

Innocent last night, corrupt tonight. Such is the I way of the world. As he watched the hot-eyed men and cynical women crowding on the patio, which stood today where Isabela's cherished garden had stood but a few days before, Vic had the premonition of entering a phase of corruption unparallelled in his experience. The air was electric with it. He had brought it about, and he could not stop here. He felt drawn into it, compelled to enter and wallow in it.

Yet at the same time he felt glowing deeply inside of him a thin spark, a spark not only of his own basic honesty, but one of innocence also. It had been ignited the night before by that flame of innocence he had seen in Carmina's eyes. After leaving her he sensed that all the filth, all the mire he was about to indulge in, could not extinguish that spark. It would quiver maybe, it would diminish to a pinpoint, but it would not be put out. Possibly, he thought, the spark must come close to being extinguished before it can burst forth.

Well, he would see.

He felt an arm slip into his, and he turned to see Dana, tall glass in hand which explained the glassy look in her eyes, looking up at him with admiration. "For a man who hated it, you've done a grade A job, darling."

"Oh, I outdid myself on this one."

"No such thing as outdoing yourself," she said slurring her speech a little tipsily. "No such thing. Only little people outdo themselves because everything they do-is so little-and can be outdone. But big people like you and me outdo all the time, don't we darling? Isn't the rum good?"

"It brings out the profound in you. It's so profound I might think it was gibberish if I wasn't one of the big people. Yes, the rum is good."

"Why don't you drink more of it?"

"I just finished my fourth."

"Answer the question, witness." She hugged his arm to her breasts and held it there."

"How about answering some for me. Who's who?"

They looked out over the throng on the hastily-laid stone dance floor and around the bar that had been set up under a palm. "Who's who?" Dana said. "Well, most of the bigshots in drugs you know by sight."

"Yes. I mean the targets."

"The targets. Aren't we belligerent, though. Well," her eyes searched through the mob, "there's Wilton of New Jersey. Bald as an apple. Wearing the red her-mudas and that hideously mismatched orange shirt. See him?"

"Talking to that girl in green that's towering over him?"

"Yes. He's objective number three, the least important. He has no brains and no values. He does what he's told, follows the leader, and listens respectfully to the sound of silver."

"Why is he here if he's unimportant?"

"Who said he's unimportant? He heards a subcommittee on pure food and drug legislation. He can make sure no bills harmful to us go through. As a man he means nothing to us, but his position is everything."

"I see. And which one is Howard, the Wisconsin representative?"

"Not so loud. He's right next to you." Vic looked to his left. A few people away was a rather corpulent man dressed in a plaid cabana suit. He wore glasses which jumped on his nose every few moments as the man twitched the left side of his face.

They strolled out of hearing range. "Such an animal doesn't deserve such a lovely girl as the one he's talking to."

"That's right," Dana replied, appraising the curvaceous redhead giggling over something Howard had just said. "I'm sure she thinks so too, but hers isn't to question why. She's been assigned to him and she's being paid a pretty penny to make sure he gets all the love his mother obviously never gave him."

"What role does he play in our little drama?"

"He's a gopher."

"A gopher?"

"Yes. He enjoys digging for things, facts, dirty laundry, skeletons, scandals. He has a reputation for expose. I don't know why he does it, but he just likes to follow a scent when he has nothing better to do, or when it's election time, or when his constituents are wondering what the hell he's doing in Washington. Once he has the scent he bays like a bloodhound, and he doesn't get off the trail till his prey is up a tree. He's a troublemaker, and lately he's been putting his nose in Sparling's bottles. I think he's a little unhappy with what he smelled."

"That's why his nose is twitching that way."

"I suppose so. I want more rum. It sets me on fire in the right places."

"Don't look at me to extinguish it," he said, moving toward the bar.

"That would he wonderful. How about it? My room is nice and cool, and my body is nice and hot." She pressed against him fully as he picked up two more tall drinks at the bar.

For a second he felt embarrassed to have her making her desire so obvious in public. Then when he looked around he realized that everyone else was doing it too. That's what they were here for, after all. The yacht had left the U. S. loaded with men. It made straight away for the Bahamas, touching one island after another, picking up the choices tarts in the Caribbean. When the boat pulled into Topaz it was no secret what had gone on. It must have been no less than an orgy. Leering men and their harlots had staggered down the gangplank, either drunk or completely dissipated by four days and nights of revelry. Almost everybody was comfortably paired off, and the only reason a few remained free was so that they could horn in on somebody else's man or woman, or even push into a stateroom crowded with three or four naked couples and join in the fun. No holds had been barred, and nobody seemed to mind who had whom.

It was a convention, and conventions are for fun, are they not?

"Well, darling, what about it?" Dana repeated in a whisper.

"Not now. Not yet."

"Then later? You'll come up to my room? I don't have anyone to stay with, like these other lucky people."

"You must be suffering," he said, taking a long sip of the strong punch.

"Yes, I am. As a matter-of-fact I am. I have an itch, Vic. I have an itch for you, and it needs to be scratched." She pressed the full weight of her body against his leg. He could feel the substantial pelvis, the succulent bulge of her stomach, the firm thighs which opened a fraction and closed around his leg. He felt himself getting aroused. The liquor had begun to take its effect, and he could feel a lightening of his senses, especially those that Dana's subtle movements were intended to provoke. "Will you, Vic? Will you come up to my room and take care of my itch? I need you, Vic. I need your strong body on mine." She ran a hand down his shirt and over the front of his pants. "Will you?"

His resistence crumbled. "I'll be there, Dana. And we'll have the time of our lives."

Her eyes rolled when he said it. "Mmm," she murmured. "Let's not wait too long."

A hand fell on Vic's shoulder.

"Well, Victor, I must hand it to you. You've put things into top notch shape. We're off to a fine start. I won't forget it either," Harold Sparling said. Vic turned to him and gave him a half smile. The man was dressed festively, like everybody else. More so, in fact. He had a ridiculous straw hat on, and sandals, besides a pair of flowered shorts and matching shirt. "If things go as well for the rest of the convention as they're going now, you can expect some handsome rewards. We all can, in fact."

"Is everybody getting acquainted?" Vic asker ironically.

"Oh yes, yes. They're getting well acquainted. Even intimate, I should say."

"How are the guests of honor enjoying themselves?"

"Our two Congressmen seem well content. They should be. They're eating of the fruit of the islands. The very choicest fruit. I hate to tell you what I'm paying those women of theirs."

"Come now, Harold," Dana interjected, "money is no problem, is it?"

"Oh no, not at all," he hastened to say. "If it buys the product we want, that is."

Vic looked around the crowd. "Which reminds me. I haven't had Clayboro, objective number one, pointed out to me. Which one is he?"

Sparling craned his stubby neck. "I don't see him around. And that's the way I like it."

"What do you mean?" Vic asked.

"The girl I assigned to him has specific instructions: keep him in bed for a few days. "Clayboro's girl-now there's a talented woman. She's the madam of one of the highest priced houses in the western hemisphere. What she doesn't know about sex just isn't worth learning. And what she's teaching Clayboro is very much worth teaching," he chortled. "Worth it to us, I mean."

"It looks like school is out, Harold," said Dana gesturing to the hotel entrance.

They all looked up at the figure framed in the doorway, beside whom stood a magnificent woman with dark, contemptuous eyes and flaming red hair. The man was tall and spare, and he bore himself with ramrod straightness, yet with casual self-possession. He was dressed, unlike anybody else, in a suit, and it was impeccably tailored. His face was thin and handsome, with a forceful jaw, perceptive eyes and a dark moustache flecked with grey like his hair.

"Now there's the first convincing sign of what we're up against," Vic said, studying this man carefully. "He looks important, which is more than I can say about Messrs. Wilton and Howard."

"Excuse me," Harold Sparling said, rushing away and up the stairs. He ran beaming up to Clayboro and welcomed him in a patronizing and expansive way that reminded Vic of all the hail-fellow-well-met gestures he had ever seen at every convention he'd ever been to. Sparling slapped Clayboro on the back, and Vic was amused to see Clayboro set him back on his heels with-a rather haughty look. Sparling motioned towards Vic and Dana, and Clayboro nodded to them letting a hint of smile extend to the corners of his thin lips, but not beyond. The redhead excused herself and headed towards the bar, and the two men moved down the stairs and over to where Vic and Dana were standing.

Things were beginning to get a little noisy as everybody started feeling his liquor, and the four piece band which had been playing dreamy ballads in one corner of the patio moved in and struck up a tango, and the pace quickened noticeably, the noise grew louder, and the liquor started to run more freely than ever.

Grinning broadly, Sparling put one hand on Vic's shoulder and the other on Clayboro's. "Victor, I'd like you to meet Lucas Clayboro. Lucas, this is Vic Brighton, the man who has been instrumental in the arrangements here. Of course, you know Dana, my trusty girl Friday."

"Don't forget the other days," she laughed.

Clayboro nodded politely to Dana and then turned to Vic. "And very good arrangements they have been, too, Mr. Brighton."

"Call him Vic, said Sparling, trying to impose casualness in the most direct way. Then, vaguely realizing how impertinent it must have sounded, he added "Everyone does."

"I'm glad you're pleased with them," Vic said to Clayboro, ignoring Sparling's obnoxious flamboyance. "We're eager to make your stay a pleasant one. So much so that I hope you won't feel I'm out of order in saying I'm a little surprised at the formality of your dress."

Sparling let out a gasp and a fatuous grin, but looked sharply at Vic.

"I appreciate your concern, uh, Vic." Clayboro replied. "But I'm not at all uncomfortable, really. It's not my custom to go quite so whole hog as some others." Vic looked at Sparling, but the remark was too oblique for him. "I enjoy myself in my own way, even though it may seem a little stuffy to others."

"Oh that's not what he meant at all, Lucas," Sparling blurted out.

"I'm sure it wasn't, Harold," Clayboro said in a tone which any but the most obtuse-namely, Harold Sparling-would understand to be a reproof. "I don't find it good for a man's self-respect to indulge himself to his limits, do you, Harold?"

Before Harold could mutter some platitude, Vic said "That's a sensible attitude, Mr. Clayboro. We were only thinking of your comfort, and if you are comfortable, there's nothing else to be said, isn't that right, Harold?"

Harold nodded vigorously, anxious to get off the rather uncertain ground on which they were standing. He turned to look over at the bar, where Clayboro's girlfriend had attracted a handful of eager males. Knowing that here was a topic which wouldn't cause any controversy, Sparling said "That is a lovely girl you're with, Lucas. Lovely indeed."

All the more reason for Sparling to gape with disbelief when Clayboro answered "I suppose she is."

Vic and Dana exchanged curious glances, and Dana's look indicated Vic had better say something, anything, fast before Sparling came out with a less than helpful comment. "I take it you're not quite as enthusiastic as Harold supposed," he said, figuring the issue should be brought into the open at the earliest moment.

"Oh, it's not that she isn't...." He stopped and looked at Dana, who took the cue and excused herself to get a refill at the bar. "It's not that she isn't a stunning woman and, uh, not experienced in the ways of love."

"I should say not," said Harold Sparling, failing to realize that it was completely useless to follow this tack.

"But let me put it this way, gentlemen. I'm a man in his middle years. I've been married twice, and being a man of means I have riot wanted for any of the finer things in life, like good women. They have all come easy to me, and I have known almost all the kinds there are to know. Felice, the woman you have been so good as to introduce me to, is in many ways an extraordinary one. She is like everything I have ever known in females rolled into one. I don't remember when any one woman has ever wrung so much from my body. You'll excuse me if I talk bluntly."

"Please go right on, Mr. Clayboro."

"Uh, yes, please do," echoed Sparling.

"The point I'm making is that I've known just about all of it. Maybe not to the degree I've known it with Felice, but when you get right down to it, Felice is just another woman, healthy, mature, experienced and all that."

"But something is missing, is that it?" Vic said sympathetically.

"I suppose that's so, Vic. I'm getting on in years a bit, and I guess I'm jaded. You might say I'm looking for an entirely new experience."

A wave of panic spread over Sparling's face.

"Oh, I don't mean men, if that's what you're thinking, Harold. Maybe it's just that I'm beginning to wonder where my youth has gone to, that's all."

"Oh, I understand it very well, Lucas,' said Sparling, showing very little understanding when he suggested

"Maybe there's another woman here who...."

"I don't think that's what Mr. Clayboro is getting at, Harold," Vic said.

"Well now, Vic, I wouldn't say that."

"You mean there's someone you have your eye on, Lucas?" Sparling suggested eagerly. "You only have to say who she is and I'll be all too happy to introduce you to her, you know."

Clayboro looked around the dance floor. "I don't see her here."

"What did she look like," Sparling asked.

"I don't think she was one of our party, Harold. I believe she's a native of Topaz. I didn't see much of her. She was kind of hiding behind a tree when we got off the yacht, watching us with the biggest damn eyes you ever saw."

Vic felt a flood of fear released through his system.

"Now there s what I mean by a new experience. A young, luscious native girl, growing ripe on the vine, a sweet little virgin. I'll bet she could learn to love like Felice, but at the same time I could be like a father to her. That would certainly be nice," he said wistfully.

Vic's heart was thumping madly. He didn't know whether to run or stay, bluff it out, pass it over, mislead him or play it cool. All he knew was Carmina was in the gravest danger at this moment. But he managed to say, with a relaxed air, "Well, Mr. Clayboro, such is the fate of all men entering their prime. They think a young chippy will bring back their youth. But unfortunately it never works out that way. Usually, after a few cutups with plump little teenagers they fly back to the older women, because they're the only ones who can give any satisfaction. I think you know this, too, and you just don't want to accept it."

"I guess you're right, Vic," he said nodding plaintively.

"I wasn't really entertaining it seriously, I suppose."

"So what if you weren't, Lucas," said Sparling with a stubbornness that brought Vic to the verge of clapping his hand over the man's mouth. "No pleasure should be denied you on an excursion like this, should it, Vic?"

"Not if Mr. Clayboro really considers it a pleasure," Vic said, realizing he was fighting a losing battle.

"I wouldn't know if it's a pleasure or not until I've tried it," Clayboro answered.

Vic knew Clayboro was just expressing a whim, something not to be taken seriously. But because Sparling relied on Clayboro's influence the man's whims had to be taken seriously, and Sparling was ready to follow up any caprice Clayboro had. "Vic, you've been on this island a few weeks. Do you know which girl Lucas is talking about?"

He shrugged. "All native girls have big eyes. That's not very much to go by."

"This one was like a little fawn, slim and graceful with long black hair and a young, tender body and, well, those eyes."

"Do you know which one, Vic?" Sparling asked insistently.

"If there's one like that I've never seen her."

"Well suppose, just as a favor to Lucas and myself, you see if you can't find this enchanting little creature and bring her back."

"Oh now Harold, that isn't at all necessary," Clayboro protested. "I was just thinking out loud. I'm perfectly content with the way things are."

"Yes, Harold," Vic put in quickly and sharply, "don't feel it's necessary to call out the national guard every time Lucas expresses a like or dislike. No man likes being catered to quite that much, don't you think so, sir?"

"I quite agree. Harold, I can take care of myself, and you needn't fuss and fret over me." There was something unctuous in Clayboro's voice that came across to Vic as hypocrisy, and it was confirmed when Clayboro reiterated "I suppose it was just a whim and I was thinking out loud." He looked up wistfully, and it was obvious even to the imbecillic Sparling that Clayboro's whim was more than a whim. It was both a threat and a command. "Well," the tall Southerner said, "those drinks look mighty inviting. I think I'll trot over to the bar and pick me up one. And also," he said looking at the crowd around Felice, "go brush the flies away from my sugar. Will you gentlemen join me?"

"Perhaps in a minute," Sparling said.

"Then excuse me, please." And he made his way across the dance floor, which was now filled with about two dozen frenzied couples, stamping away to a loud and rhythmic cha-cha.

As soon as Clayboro was out of hearing range, Sparling turned wrathfully on Vic. "Look, I'm not sure you know what I'm trying to accomplish here, and I certainly don't know what you're trying to do, but in any case let's get one thing straight. I'm running this show, and you're carrying out my orders, and he's calling all the shots. He gets what he wants, whether it's a whim or not, is that understood?"

Vic glared at him, too angry to speak.

"I've poured too damned much money into this thing to have it go awry because the man isn't particularly satisfied with his girlfriend."

"If he's not happy with her do you really think he'll be happy with any woman?"

"He has a notion he will be, and I'm telling you to gratify his notion." Sparling, red in the face, paused a moment to catch his breath. Then, a little more calm, he said "I believe there's a fishing village or something on the south shore, isn't there?"

"A couple of shacks."

"Well, that's where you'll probably find her." Relieved that Sparling was off the trail, Vic Said "I'll go looking for her first thing in the morning."

"You'll go there now."

"Now? Harold, you're crazy."

"I've had entirely too much of your backtalk already. I'll tell Dana what the situation is and she'll go with you."

"You don't trust me, do you?"

"There's too much riding on this to trust anyone." Sparling started to walk away, and then turned back. "Victor."

"Yes," he said, looking up from his drink.

"Find that girl. Don't let me down."

He went over to the bar and spoke to Dana for a minute. She kept looking Vic's way and shaking her head up and down. In a few moments more she was at her side.

"Got your instructions?" he said, disguising his bitterness.

"Yes. Sparling says you kicked up your heels a bit. Don't like the idea of sacrificing a virgin on the altar of the drug business, do you?"

"It seems unnecessary," he said, understating his feelings.

"Not in the light of what we're trying to do here."

"I wasn't looking at things in that light."

A mocking expression of pain came over her face. "Now don't tell me we're going to go through this again. You know, for a while there I thought you were out of the dark forest of doubt. I hope you're not going to get tangled in it again."

"You wouldn't understand," he said, knowing full well how very little she did understand.

They picked up a couple of lanterns and headed over a downhill path south where the shacks were. Vic was in a tricky situation and would have to be very careful. With Dana at his side he would have to ask the natives if a girl answering Carmina's description lived there. If he wasn't specific enough about what she looked like, Dana would get suspicious and would fill in the description with what Sparling had told her. If Vic got too specific on the other hand, the natives would recognize Carmina's description and would give away her hiding place, the cottage in the jungle at the foot of the hill up on the north shore.

Luckily the natives were rather stupid and didn't understand English very well, and Vic did his best to confuse the issue subtly, so that in the end nobody was sure what anybody was talking about. Then Dana calmed everybody down, much to Vic's annoyance, and started slowly from the beginning. The natives got the picture and began going into their shacks and getting out their wives, daughters and sisters. Pretty soon there was a motley array of short, fat, tall, thin, busty, flat-chested, toothy, toothless, giggly sloppy women lined up before them, none of whom even remotely resembled Carmina. This was a bad piece of luck for Vic, who was hoping to find some pretty wench and offer her as a substitute to Clayboro.

As they made their way back to the hotel, Dana said "What's going on?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I think you have a reason for not wanting to find that girl."

"I told you I do. I draw the line at offering up some innocent kid and ruining her for the sake of Lucas Clayboro's fancy. I don't care how much this convention means to anyone. The whole future of the drug industry isn't worth the dignity of that girl's life." And quickly he added "Whoever she may be."

"And you don't know who she is."

"No. Of course not. I haven't seen any such girl, and I've been all over Topaz these last few weeks."

"Okay," she said without too much conviction. "Let's drop it. We'll just have to report the bad news to Sparling. I don't think he'll be very happy about it."

"I don't really give a damn about Harold Sparling's happiness."

They continued in silence for a few more minutes. Finally Dana said "Vic, you haven't forgotten your promise about tonight, have you?"

"I'm sober now."

She stopped walking and faced him. "So am I. But the itch-it hasn't gone away." She put her arms around his waist. "I still need you, Vic."

He looked down at her impatiently.

She pressed very close to him and began rubbing her stomach up and down against him. "I want you to come up to my room, darling. I want us to have the time of our lives, like you said we would. I want to feel your body against me." The motions of her body became more pronounced, more rhythmic, more demanding. Vic stood straight, trying to remain aloof from the suggestions her hips were making. It wasn't easy. She looked up at him with a deep urgency in her eyes, her lips trembling. He felt the aloofness melting in response, his passion aroused by the sensuous grinding of her hips.

She put her arms around his neck and pulled his head down fiercely, opening her lips. He felt his will power going. Her body clung to his and offered itself with ferocious determination. Eagerly her breasts thrust against his chest, making the hairs tingle. Her hands slid down to his buttocks and pulled them in. "Vic," she gasped. "I can't wait. I want you now here!"

She looked around. A few yards away was a little patch of sand. She took him by the hand and led him to it. Then she lifted up her dress, pulled her panties down and kicked them away. Caught up in the violence of her need Vic unbelted his pants and let them drop. She fell to the sand and pulled her dress up to her belly. "Quickly, Vic! quickly!"

He dropped to his knees. She threw her arms around him and crushed him to her with a power he never thought she possessed. "Come on, Vic," she urged. He moved his body and she uttered a groan of ecstasy.

"I said ... we would have ... the time of our lives," he whispered in rhythm to their bodies, "and now ... you're going ... to have it."

"Oh yes, love me, love me, Vic!" Their bodies were locked tight, and they ground against each other with the ferocity of jungle animals struggling for domination, is if the whole earth would shake with their encounter. Dana's eyes rolled with intense lust, her body heaving for air. "My breasts, my breasts," she cried, and he pushed her dress up, plunged his hands under her bra and ripped it off, freeing the full mounds whose tips already were tall and stiff.

He sank his hands into them and she suppressed a scream of joy. Her body arched slowly, her hips gyrated faster and faster. Then she cried "Vic! Vic! Aaaahhhh." Her eyes opened wide and then shut tight. There was a great shudder and a sudden contraction, and then a huge pulsing that engulfed him and forced him to respond.

"Dana, Dana, Dana," he murmured, gripped by a pain so great he thought it would rip him apart. Their bodies met in a searing final caress that united them in overwhelming pain which was not pain. The world seemed to spin around, then go dark. Then the rhythm of their bodies slowly subsided, and at last stopped.

They lay together panting for several minutes, and then sighed as they caught their breath at last. "Oh Vic, that was so good."

He said nothing.

"Vic?"

"What?"

"Will you marry me?"

He got up and put his clothes on. "No," he said in a tone so final that she knew it was futile to question it. She got dressed and they went back to the hotel.