Chapter 15
Each day from the time he got up in the morning until long after dark, Gus would pace the room, ranting and raving and pouring out a stream of obscenities that never failed to include the names of Red and Louie. There were few stretches longer than fifteen or twenty minutes, that she could remember Gus not having a bottle in his hand. Normally he'd have been drunk several times over. But he was too angry, too worried, too jumpy to get really fried.
Every time he heard a sound outside the house, even if it was only the "put-put" of a craft somewhere far out on the ocean, a car backfiring on the highway high above them on the bluff, or just the wind tossing a bit of flotsam against the side of the house, he'd grab up the machine gun, rush to the window and look out.
Sherry could never be sure whether he expected Red or Louie to be coming back, or Ben to finally be putting in an appearance, or maybe Joey Largo and some of his boys to be descending upon them She knew only that if he continued on like this for many more days, he'd be a sure thing for the funny farm.
Something else, she discovered about Gus during this keyed-up period was that every time he went to the door or the window to look out, he'd insist Denny go with him. When she asked Denny about it, he told her, "Gus is myopic. Up close, things here in the house he can see clearly, good as you or I. But at a distance, he's blind as a bat. That's why he never drives a car. It's also the reason I didn't want him to go out after Red and Louie the other night. Even if there hadn't been any fog, he couldn't have seen them more than a few yards away--but they'd have seen him."
This particular night at dinner, Sherry had an unpopular announcement to make.
"Larder's getting low on choice foods," she told Gus and Denny as she served them. "These New Yorker cuts are the last in the freezer. We're going to have to start living on beans or frozen dinners, unless somebody wants to take a walk to the nearest town."
"We can do without the suggestions," Gus grumbled. "Just put the goddamn food on the table and close your big fat lip. I told you before--nobody's leaving this place until Ben gets back, if we've gotta dig lousy piss clams up outta the sand and eat 'em."
All at once the three of them tensed and listened to the sound of a car grinding its way slowly over the sandy roadbed that led up to the back of the house. Gus pushed his chair back from the table, sprang across the room and grabbed up the submachine gun.
"You two get the hell in the next room!" he shouted at Sherry and Denny.
They moved quickly.
As the car came to a halt some distance from the house and shut off its motor, Gus moved to one side of the door where anyone opening it couldn't immediately see him. He waited. There was no sound of footsteps in the sand outside but someone was coming toward the house. Gus watched, breath bunched in his throat, finger tense on the hair-trigger of the gun, as the knob turned slowly and the door burst open.
From the adjoining room where she and Denny were hiding, Sherry could see the man who entered. As far as she could make out at first glance, he was a stranger to her. She'd never seen his face before. Yet, at the same time, there was something vaguely familiar about him--about how he was built, the way his clothes fitted him and the manner in which he carried himself. There was no question in her mind who he was, the instant he spoke...
"What the hell're you doing with that gun?" he demanded as he closed the door behind him.
Gus froze for a moment. Then he blinked his eyes and took a short step toward the man, his face wreathed with astonishment. "Ben?"
The man who had just entered, put a hand to his face and cracked a tight smile. "I really look that different, huh?"
"Jeez--I'd never've known you in a million years," Gus exclaimed as he hurried forward, tucking the gun under his left arm and touching Ben's new face with his fingers.
"That's the general idea, isn't it?" Ben remarked. "That's how different you're gonna look when the doc finishes with you."
Sherry came out of the adjoining room with Denny. Her expression was as incredible as Gus' had been as she moved to within a few feet of her despised husband, her eyes searching his changed appearance. She knew now where he'd been all this time. He'd undergone plastic surgery so no one would recognize him, so he could bury his unsavory past and enjoy to the fullest all the sordid pleasures his stolen money would buy for him.
There was no question about it, he did look different. His mouth had been stretched, his nose reshaped, his hairline lifted and his eyes slanted to give him a sort of Oriental look. But on close scrutiny there were still enough of his original characteristics remaining, to leave no question in Sherry's mind that he was Ben Drake. Whether this new face was an improvement, Sherry wouldn't venture to say. She hadn't had a chance yet to get used to it. She knew only that it very definitely would serve its purpose as a disguise.
Ben eyed Sherry's presence with studied indifference. He looked around the room anxiously then asked Gus, "Where's Red and Louie?"
"They left."
Ben's face clouded over. "What the hell did they do a damn fool thing like that for?"
"They got edgy waiting," was all Gus said. He didn't go into detail and Sherry and Denny saw no point in explaining either.
"The dumb sonsofabitches!" Ben flared. "Didn't they know I'd have everything set up perfectly. The doctor is ready and waiting to make over your faces and theirs. The private sanitarium where the operation'll be performed is all arranged for. I have a helicopter chartered to fly you back here after the operation is over and a big luxury yacht that'll sail us leisurely to Baja while you're recuperating. When we get to Baja, there'll be a place to stay and faked passports for all of us. Then there's another plane chartered to take us to Buenos Aires. After that, everybody's on their own. Now those two stupid bastards pissed on the whole parade."
"There's still me and you and Denny," Gus pointed out.
The fact that Gus hadn't included Sherry in their plans, caused her mixed feelings. She was glad, of course, that they didn't intend taking her with them. But what they did plan to do with her, provoked considerable concern in her mind. She knew better than to think that they'd just leave her and walk away, especially now that Ben had exposed their plans in front of her.
She kept her eyes glued to Ben's strange new face. He had taken several moments as if weighing what Gus had told him about Red and Louie leaving. Then suddenly he did a complete reversal and burst out laughing.
Gus studied him with alarm. "You crackin' up?"
Ben shook his head and reduced his laughter to a faint chuckle as a wave of friendliness seemed to sweep over him and he said, "Gus ol' boy, you're not going to believe this because it's one of those things could happen only once in a lifetime. Gus, I've got a hundred-and-twenty-five thousand dollars waiting for me in New York."
"You have gone off your rocker!"
Again Ben shook his head and dug his wallet from an inside pocket of his coat. He flapped it open and took a slip of parchment paper from one of the compartments. From the distance it looked like an English bank note.
"Know what this is, Gus?" he asked. "It's a lottery ticket--worth one-hundred-and-twenty-five thousand dollars in good United States currency."
"This is no time for goddamn jokes!" Gus blazed.
"No joke." Ben produced a newspaper clipping showing the winning numbers and a cablegram verifying his ticket. "Soon as I saw my number in the paper, I checked with the post office box where I've been having my mail sent. Sure enough there was this cable waiting for me."
Gus didn't look very happy. "You ain't figuring on collecting that money?"
"A hundred-and-twenty-five G's?" Ben voiced. "Are you for real? You're damn right I'm going to collect it."
"You'll put yourself and maybe us right in jail," he said.
"No," Ben insisted. "With this new face and new prints and the phony name I gave, nobody'll even come close to recognizing me. Only identification I need is this half of the ticket with the winning number on it. Anybody could collect on it, long as they've got this stub. So I'll fly to New York, pick up the waiting cash and be back by the time your operation's over and we're ready to sail."
"I won't buy it," Gus declared. "It's too risky."
Ben met Gus' gaze evenly. "The money I spent going to come out of your share?"
"Money?"
"How the hell do you think I made all the arrangements, got everything set up?" Ben asked as he took still another paper from his wallet and read the itemized list: "Plastic surgery--face and fingertips--$7,000 apiece. Total of five operations, including hospital services, $35,000--cash in advance."
"That's awful steep," Gus complained.
"Sure, it's steep but a lot of people at the sanitarium had to be paid to keep their mouths shut." He continued with the list. "Plane from the sanitarium to here--$2,500. Boat that'll take us to Baja-$25,000."
"What the hell did you charter, the Queen Mary?"
"Boat owners read newspapers the same as everybody else. They know how much we took from the bank and figure we can well afford to pay for their services. Besides we'll be at sea until your face heals, living like royalty. And don't forget one other thing, they'll be taking just as big a risk as we."
Ben went on itemizing the costs: $2,500 apiece for their fake passports--half payable in advance.
"Grand total paid out by me so far $78,750," he concluded sarcastically. "Of course, if you and Denny would like to reimburse me for that amount?"
Gus scowled. "Why should it cost us?"
"For the same reason it shouldn't cost me," Ben hurled back at him. "Which is exactly why I'm going to New York to pick up that money. So if you and Denny want to drive me to the airport, you can take the car, go see the plastic surgeon and get your operations over with as soon as possible, so we can be on our way."
"And if I say no dice?" Gus wanted to know.
"You'll have to get to the plastic surgeon the best way you can," was Ben's retort.
During all this time, still no mention had been made as to what they planned to do with Sherry. For that very reason, it wasn't difficult for her to guess. Like the trailer they pushed into the sea, they had no further use for her and she was much too dangerous for them to just park somewhere. So again, like the trailer, they'd have to get rid of her, too. It was far from a comforting thought!
Ben had paused a few moments for Gus to make up his mind. Then he asked, "Well, Gus, what's the verdict? Coming with me?"
Gus gave an indirect answer. "Suppose Red and Louie come back?"
"From what you told me, I don't think that's likely."
"Maybe they've gone to see the doctor on their own? They know who he is."
Ben frowned. "That could prove to be a bad mistake. Because he doesn't know who they are. He gave me explicit directions about how and where they should contact him, exactly what to say." In a few brief words he gave the necessary information to Gus. "So if you want, you and Denny can go see him and then come straight back here after the operation and wait for me to return from New York."
"I don't like it," Gus maintained. "I still don't think you going to New York is a smart idea."
"Sorry, Gus. I do. I'm not about to pass up a chance to get back all that money I laid out." He started toward the door.
"You mean, you're goin' right now, just like that?" Gus inquired.
"The sooner I go, the quicker I'll be back." Ben rationalized. He paused a moment with one hand on the doorknob, the other still holding his wallet, the itemized list and the half of the winning lottery ticket. He took a long last look at Sherry with not the slightest hint of compassion in his slanted eyes. Then his gaze returned to Gus. He made a last attempt at persuasion, ironically using the same argument that Gus had used on Red and Louie. "It's a hell of a long pull up there on the highway. Sure you don't want to change your mind and come with me?"
Gus shook his head very slowly as he ran a hand over the length of the machine gun he was holding. "Not a chance, Pal. Sure you don't want to change your mind and stay?"
Ben just smiled and opened the door. "I'll be back in a few days."
Still holding his wallet, the list and the ticket, he stepped out into the darkness, leaving the door behind him so the light from inside would show him the way to his parked car. He couldn't have gone more than half-a-dozen steps when Gus hurried to the open doorway. There was only a moment's hesitation on Gus' part as if he might be weighing a final crucial decision then he slowly raised the submachine gun and took aim at Ben's broad back moving away from him.
Back in the center of the room, Sherry saw Gus' move and screamed a warning to Ben! But it was too late.
The gun sounded its death rattle above the whine of the wind and the symphony of the surf.
She heard Ben's screech as the bullets ploughed into his body. There was no sound as he dropped to the sand and lay still only steps from his car.
Something blew in through the open doorway between Gus' widespread feet but no one noticed it as Sherry, in blind sickness, collapsed against Denny standing close by her. She wept bitterly against his chest as he put both arms around her and held her tightly. She wasn't crying because it was Ben. All feelings she might have had toward him had long since disappeared. She was weeping because a human life had been taken, uselessly, violently--the life of a human being, no matter how despicable he might have been.
Denny walked her into her room and sat her down on the bed. He said nothing. He just stroked her long, silky, dark hair in silence because he had no idea what Ben's death might mean to her.
He looked up and tensed at the sound of the door slamming in the next room.
"Denny!" Gus' voice boomed out.
Denny left Sherry sitting on the bed and hurried into the adjoining room to join Gus. She heard Gus talking, giving orders, as usual.
"Get the money," he said. "Yours and mine and throw it in a couple of bags."
"Where are we going?" Denny asked.
"We're clearing out," Gus told him. "We're gonna keep our date with the doc."
There was a brief pause then Denny asked, worriedly, "What about--?"
He didn't finish his question, but Sherry knew he meant her.
"We'll go into that when you get the bags packed," Gus rumbled. "Now get your ass movin'."