Chapter 6

It took us two days to get to Acapulco, and I was constantly rushing things at that. Monica didn't want to leave the bed. She would have been content to spend a month or two there, just sleeping and doing what comes naturally.

. The idea kind of grew on me too. If it weren't for Duke Bevins there in Acapulco like a sitting duck, I might have been willing to go along with her.

After all, she was footing the bill.

But I insisted that we move on, so the next morning we left Oaxaca headed north.

A waiter in the motel cafe had told us there were no places a civilized man would dare to eat between Oaxaca and Cuautla. I had stood up under some pretty gruesome chow, but Monica probably didn't have my constitution. We drank an extra cup of coffee while the waiter ordered us a box lunch from the kitchen.

For a while we rode through the tropical valley that surrounds Oaxaca, then we began the steep descent toward Nochixtlan. There were several hours of pretty monotonous driving over a road that wound continuously around mountains and foothills.

We passed through a few green valleys where the natives raised corn and sugarcane. We passed through a lot of desert where nothing grew but organ pipe cactus.

There were a couple of places where the pavement disappeared, and we bounced over acres of crushed rock. It wasn't the greatest trip in the world.

In one of the narrow valleys was a small clear stream. We parked at the side of the road and watched some peasant women doing their laundry, kneeling on a big flat rock and dipping the clothes into the running water.

Monica opened the box lunch and laid out the chicken sandwiches on the paper plates that the waiter had provided. There was dark Mexican beer that had warmed up during the drive, but it was still very tasty. We had to catch the foam as I snapped off each cap, drinking half the beer before it stopped overflowing.

After we had eaten, we sat and necked for a while. But the pressure became almost unbearable, so we started the car and drove on in a hurry. We got as far as Cuautla, and neither of us could hold out any longer. The lure of this fleshy, warm-blooded blonde was beginning to get to me.

We arrived in the late afternoon in Cuautla and crawled at once into a hotel bed. That's where we spent the night. We didn't even dress and go out for dinner, we had it served right there in the room.

Every hour or so, like clockwork, passion kept returning to fire us up. It was the kind of orgy that grows and grows, getting better with age. We left a small lamp burning all night in the room, because with both liked the sights as well as the sounds and other sensations two people experience when they get lost in their own small world of sensuality.

Once I awoke feeling her moving beside me on the bed. She had crawled above me so that I faced the round pillows of her breasts. I seized one in each hand and began massaging them, pressing my fingers into the pliant flesh. I squeezed until the nipples stood out straight and hard, glowing a bright ruby red.

I swallowed one of the pointed cones, filling my mouth with it, and looked up at the passion in her eyes. She moaned and began to hiss through clenched teeth.

Suddenly she pulled me into a seething embrace. I held her naked body in my arms, slid my hands around her bottom, feeling her buttocks quiver as she swayed her hips.

My flesh seemed to be engulfed in flames. We were crushed against each other and our kisses became more frantic. I felt her burning with fever, shaking with tension as she lifted with me toward the pinnacle.

There was a high voltage current flowing from her nerves to mine. We were perfectly attuned to each other, and for a single, shattering instant in time we became one. It was in that instant that we lifted off together and went rocketing through space, our bodies pulsing to the same wild rhythm of ecstasy.

It was an experience that doesn't happen every day. A man could not survive for long if it did. It's just too damned hard on the nervous system.

I was the first one out of bed the next morning. I got up as soon as I was awake, took a shower and dressed. I didn't want to get caught in another session with Monica.

Her physical appetite never seemed to remain satisfied for long. It was time to put an end to the orgy.

When she finally awoke and rolled over in bed, I saw that spark in her eyes. She was ready again. She stared at me through the golden strands of her fallen hair. Her nostrils flared as she began breathing heavily.

She made a lewd movement with her full lips. The meaning was perfectly obvious. "Come here, lover," she growled. I shook my head.

She caught hold of her breasts and held them on her open palms, offering them to be kissed. When she saw that I had no intention of playing her game, she started to crawl off the bed and come for me.

I opened the door.

"Get dressed," I said. "I'll wait for you in the hotel coffee shop. Don't be too long. I'm starved."

"Come back to bed, darling," she pleaded.

"Huh-unh," I said. 'We'd never get out again. And I've got business in Acapulco.

"Damn you " she cried.

She picked up one of her slippers and threw it at me. I walked out the door as the slipper hit the wall beside my head. I lit a cigarette and went down the big winding staircase to the lobby.

While I waited for Monica in the restaurant, I had a cup of coffee. Pretty soon she came down. She was lovely in a pale yellow dress that was almost the color of her hair. She had gotten over her mad spell.

She sat very close to me and squeezed my hand. Every now and then her fingers tightened. She wasn't in a talkative mood, but when her fingers squeezed mine I knew she was remembering some detail of last night's carnality.

She was quite a wench.

I liked her, because she made no bones about sex. She liked it. She was a healthy young woman with an instinct for the bed. She had a lush female body which she knew how to use. And she wasn't ashamed to use it.

She had certainly sapped the strength out of me, and still she was aching to get me back in bed again.

Some woman.

Sitting there, gazing at me, she looked fresh and lovely even innocent. But she'd lost her innocence long ago. If every woman were like her it would be a hell of a world. There wouldn't be a man without a smile on his face. And every last one of us would be going around in a wheel chair.

I ate a big breakfast, ham and eggs washed down with plenty of black coffee. It revived me.

I was in a good mood as we drove along the highway, heading for Acapulco.

Monica sat close to me and kept her hand on my leg, clutching possessively. It was kind of nice driving a new car on a bright, sunny day with a luscious blonde sitting beside me. An untamed female who was always willing and able. A kind of perpetual motion machine.

As we rolled along the highway, I began to remember some of the gory details from last night. It sent little shivers along my spine.

Monica was one dame I really went for.

I was going to hate to dump her. But I'd made up my mind that's what I had to do as soon as I got to Acapulco. With her hanging on, it might foul up the works.

It was not quite noon when we came up over the top of the mountain and dropped down into the bowl-shaped valley where Acapulco lay, sprawled out along the crescent rim of sand. The big hotels beside the beaches were quite a sight to see.

Far out near the mouth of the harbor there were rugged cliffs that dropped right into the ocean.

"Oh, we're here " Monica said, sitting up excitedly. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Haven't you been here before?"

"This is the first time."

"You're going to like it."

"Yes, darling " She leaned her head on my shoulder. "With you, especially."

I clamped my jaw tight. A sense of guilt made my face warm. It would be a dirty trick, walking out on Monica. I hated to do it, but I had no choice. Under the circumstances I'd welcome the chance to spend a couple of weeks in Acapulco with a warm little beast like her.

I wheeled the Plymouth around the narrow curves of the highway as it dropped down to sea level.

When we reached bottom, I turned left on Miguel Aleman and followed the broad boulevard around the curve of the bay. It was the summer season, and a few of the hotels had big banners offering special rates.

There was one hotel, the Castillo, that looked new and expensive, yet the rates were lower than the rest. It was a good bet that Duke wouldn't be living there. Not with his newly acquired wealth, when there were more expensive hotels.

I pushed on the brake and wheeled up the curved drive which led to the entrance. I parked in the shade of the canopy and looked at Monica.

"How does this one suit you?"

"Looks nice," she said. "Whatever you say."

"We'll stay here."

The two bellhops were already there to welcome us in. The off-season trade was pretty sparse, even in Acapulco. And someone was probably sweating the mortgage on a new hotel. That's what's made the service better than usual.

We signed in and rode the elevator up to the seventh floor. As soon as the bellhop had left us with his tip, Monica and I went onto the balcony to look down at the view.

There was a pool far below, surrounded by palm trees. Then there was the beach with a lot of bright umbrellas and the blue waves washing in. Some big white yachts were anchored out in the harbor. An excursion boat was rounding the point, coming from Caleta Beach.

"Lovely," Monica said, leaning against me.

The way she was clinging to my arm, I knew she was beginning to get ideas. That kind of thought was never very far below the surface of her mind.

I broke her grip and walked into the room.

"Listen, Monica. I have to go out for a while. There's some business I've got to attend to."

"You're going to look for your friend?"

"Among other things." I gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

Her eyes were sad. Maybe she could tell I was lying. I gave her a smile and walked to the door.

"I'll wait here for you," she said. "Don't be long "

"Go for a swim," I told her. "Rent an umbrella and lie on the beach. I'll find you when I get back." There was a pout on her lips as she nodded. "All right "

She opened her suitcase on the bed and took out a bikini that wasn't much larger than a couple of band-aids. I was sorry I wouldn't be around to see it on her. She was going to give the cats a big thrill when she strolled along the beach in that. It would be quite a show.

She was removing her dress when I walked out the door. I rode the elevator down to the lobby and walked across the street. I had seen a drugstore when we drove up, and that was my first stop.

I bought a bottle of peroxide and a cheap pair of sunglasses. I took my time. I wanted to give Monica a chance to get down to the beach.

When I phoned our room from the lobby, there was no answer. I got the key at the desk and rode up. First thing I did was strip to the waist. I used plenty of peroxide. In twenty minutes the color of my hair had changed from dark brown to a sun-bleached yellow.

I dressed and put on the sunglasses. The transformation was startling. I didn't even recognize myself, so I was sure Duke Bevins wouldn't. But to play it safe I wore the Panama hat which Monica had bought with the rest of my wardrobe. Then I went down to the lobby again.

There was a taxi parked at the curb, with a fat driver who was asleep behind the wheel. When I climbed in and slammed the door, he turned around lazily. He yawned and mopped the sweat from his face with a dirty handkerchief.

'Where do you want to go, senor?"

"Post Office."

He nodded and switched on the key. The motor ground slowly. He struggled with it for nearly a minute, working the choke to get it started.

Then we did a U-turn in the boulevard without looking back. I looked back, but he didn't. Some American tourist in a new Cadillac lost his hat when he slammed on the brakes. The angry blare of his horn didn't seem to bother the cabbie at all. He probably thought the guy was honking at somebody else. They drive that way in Mexico, and they have a lot of good luck charms dangling from the dashboard.

We flowed along with the traffic on the boulevard, which curved along the edge of the sea. I lit a cigarette and leaned back to look at the big hotels that lined the beach, wondering which one Duke Bevins was staying in, wondering how I was going to locate him.

Without him locating me.

There wasn't much chance of that, though, unless I got too damned careless.

As far as he was concerned, I was a corpse, feeding the fish at the bottom of the Pacific. That's where I should have been, because he had slugged me good and soaked me in gasoline and left me burning with the boat.

Sometimes I get a little lucky. It was pure luck that I had managed to stagger over the side just as Duke Bevins lit the funeral pyre.

Chris hadn't been so lucky.

I wondered how Duke had done him in. Maybe he had slugged him too, while he was sleeping. But I had found him lying on the deck, so Duke might have knifed him in the back. He liked to play with knives. He could just as easily have used one on me while I was asleep.

I was glad he'd decided to knock me on the head.

Just thinking about it made my skin crawl. My face started to ass with anger. Looking down, I saw that my hands were clamped into fists.

I cursed myself. If I worked up such a rage every time I thought about Duke, what would I do when I saw him? I had to stay calm, no matter how hard it was to do. I had to keep my head and take advantage of the fact that Duke thought he had nothing to worry about.

Duke was no fool. If I gave myself away, then he might just come out on top after all. And now I knew how vicious he was. I'd had a first hand demonstration.

We were crawling along behind a pack of slowly moving cars. We had reached the downtown section, where the traffic was congested.

Off to the left, the malecon looked like a carnival. Candy and soft drink peddlers lined the sidewalk. Kids were diving into the harbor for coins. Party boats were unloading the tourists with their catches. There were a couple of big sharks hanging from wooden crossbars.

The cabbie started blowing his horn at the car in front of us. He didn't have anything better to do.

Finally we reached the Post Office. I paid and climbed out, jumping to the curb before some crazy driver ran me down. I moved along with the swirl of people.

It was a real collection. There were a lot of Mexicans, and a lot more tourists, strolling along as they looked at the souvenirs in the shop windows. It was the only place in Mexico where you could see women in shorts. Everywhere else it was forbidden. But the Americans had taken over Acapulco.

There were peddlers with postcards in the entrance of the Post Office. I went inside and looked around for the General Delivery window.

There was a line of half a dozen people. I stood in the line and waited until my turn. The clerk gave me a toothy smile. He was a mestizo, and he wore his mustache proudly to prove it. Pure Indios couldn't raise a beard.

"Jacob Green," I said. "I'm expecting a package."

"Si, senor."

He went away and came back in a minute shaking his head. He didn't have the package. I knew he wouldn't because I was several days early. It was probably just leaving Puerto Reyes.

"There is nothing, senor."

"When is the next delivery from the south?" I asked. "From Central America?"

"The mail arrives from the south only once a day, senor. In the afternoon."

"What time?"

"Always after three o'clock."

I thanked him and walked out to the street. I glanced at my wrist and remembered that I'd left my watch back in Tehuantepec. I asked a passing tourist for the time. It was just a little after one. I strolled along the sidewalk looking for a bar. I had a couple of hours to wait.