Lovers and Gamblers

  She rushed forward and fell on him. She couldn’t think about hate. She couldn’t think about anything other than the fact that she wasn’t by herself any more. ‘I’ll help you,’ she promised. ‘You won’t die. I’ll help you. What can I do?’

  ‘Water. Do you have any?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’ve got nothing.’

  He groaned. ‘I can’t walk. My legs are broken. You must suck out the snake venom. Do it now – do it now, please, I beg you.’

  She stared at his leg in horror. The place where the snake had bitten him was already swelling into a vile purplish mound.

  ‘I… I… can’t…’

  ‘If you don’t, I’ll die. You’ll be alone out here. Suck the poison and spit it on the ground. Hurry, Cristina, it may already be too late.’

  She bent her face to his leg, shushing away the flies which seemed to be everywhere. There was a bone protruding where it shouldn’t. There were cuts and scratches, and in the middle of it all was the obscene purple lump of pus. He pressed near and around it with his fingers. ‘Now!’ he urged, ‘now!’

  She put her lips over it, sucked and spat twice. Then turned away and vomited.

  He let out a sigh. ‘We’ll know soon enough… soon… Maybe you’ll end up alone after all, my little carioca – maybe…’ He laughed bitterly. ‘I nearly did it. I would have been a hero – you hear me…’ His eyes closed.

  Cristina began to sob. ‘You’ll be all right, Nino. I know you will. I know you will. You can’t leave me. Promise. I want you to promise.’

  He did not reply. He had passed out.

  * * *

  How do your legs feel?’ Al asked anxiously.

  Paul nodded. ‘Not bad. I think the circulation’s coming back.’ He was propped on the floor of the compartment, with Dallas massaging his legs. Miraculously they seemed to be only badly bruised. It was the pressure that had been causing him all the pain.

  They had cut his trouser legs off at the knee, and applied hand cream to massage away the numbness.

  Cathy, however, had not fared so well. Apart from her facial injuries, which Dallas had cleaned up as best she could, her shattered leg was quite obviously useless.

  The flies had invaded the plane with a vengeance. Small ones, big horse flies, tiny stinging little gnats. Infection would set in at once, and there was nothing to be done.

  They had covered Cathy with a blanket, but she kept on pushing it off and complaining of the heat. It was unearthly hot and humid. They were all pouring with sweat.

  ‘You must stay covered,’ Dallas warned. ‘The flies will only make it worse…’

  Cathy moaned softly, ‘It couldn’t be any worse…’

  Al took Dallas to one side. ‘What do you think? Shall we try and get that thing out of Bernie, or shall we wait for help?’

  She gave him a strange look. ‘What makes you think help is coming?’

  ‘Don’t talk crap. Of course it’s coming. I’m a million-dollar property, kid. They’ll be searching ’til they find me. I’m sure Van must have radioed our position before he crashed.’

  ‘Why aren’t they here, then?’

  ‘I shouldn’t think this is the easiest place to reach. A plane couldn’t land here. I suppose they’ll have to get to us by land.’

  She shrugged unbelievingly. ‘I haven’t heard any planes flying over here today…’

  ‘They’ll find us,’ he said sharply.

  ‘If you say so. In the meantime, if we don’t pull that chunk of metal out of Bernie, he’s going to die.’

  ‘Let’s do it then.’

  ‘Paul will have to hold him down…’ She hesitated. ‘If Evan could help…’

  ‘I don’t think so. Look – I’ll pull it out, you help Paul hold him. Can you take the blood?’

  ‘Can you? I worked with animals when I was a kid, I’m used to it.’

  ‘I haven’t always been the world’s favourite superstar, you know…’

  She pushed the hair away from her face wearily. ‘Let’s do it, Al. We need a towel to stem the blood.’

  He held her face briefly. ‘I love you,’ he said quietly, ‘I just want you to know that. You’re not only the most beautiful girl in the world, you’re also the best one to get stuck in a plane crash with.’

  ‘You and your quickie trips to South America. Why did I ever listen to you?’

  Bernie moaned loudly.

  ‘Give him the rest of the brandy,’ Al said. ‘I’ll be right back.’

  Paul was attempting to stand.

  ‘All right?’ Al asked.

  ‘Shaky, but nothing seems to be broken.’

  ‘I’m going to get some towels.’

  ‘Why don’t we bust through the door? Is the bed still in one piece? Maybe we could put Cathy and Bernie on it.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Al contemplated the crushed door. ‘If we could get some support – take the pressure off. Shit – it would beat the hell out of crawling in and out. We’ll give it a try.’

  Paul stared admiringly at his brother. Who would have thought that Al had it in him? His hands were cut and bleeding. His body dripping with sweat. He hadn’t stopped for a moment. And yet he was still willing to go on. He wasn’t hurt. He could have just sat tight in his bedroom waiting for help. He hadn’t even touched the brandy, although he must have been dying for a swig. ‘You all need it more than I do,’ he had insisted.

  ‘I think I can walk,’ Paul said, trying a few steps.

  ‘Let’s give it a try then, boyo, let’s do it. You and I together, we always were a good team.’ Al slapped his brother on the shoulder. ‘Now, this is what we’ll do…’

  * * *

  Night fell quickly in the jungle.

  Cristina had bodily dragged Nino up against the trunk of a tree, arming herself with a hefty stick in case of further snake attacks. She was exhausted. She knew that without food or drink she could not last much longer.

  ‘Tomorrow,’ she told Nino, who drifted in and out of consciousness, ‘I’ll find the plane. It can’t be far. I won’t leave you for long, I’ll get water and come back for you.’

  ‘Yes,’ he mumbled.

  She cradled his head on her lap, brushing away a spider. Her mouth was so dry. Her body ached. She had been bitten to pieces by the flies. A wasp had stung her. Her head throbbed.

  Now with the darkness came the frightening noises. What other animals apart from snakes lurked in the blackness?

  She clung onto Nino and tried not to think.

  ‘I’ll find Louis tomorrow,’ she crooned softly. ‘He will save us. Tomorrow we’ll be all right.’

  ‘I could’ve been a hero,’ Nino mumbled, shudders racking his body.

  Eventually they both fell into an uneasy sleep.

  * * *

  On the plane, progress had been made. Between them Al and Paul had managed to get the door to the bedroom compartment open. They had half-carried, half-dragged Bernie in there and laid him out on the bed.

  Wrapping his hands in towels, Al had gripped the protruding jagged metal, and with a horrible suction sound, it had come out of Bernie’s chest. Dallas had tried to stem the flow of blood with more towels. They were already soaked through, but at least Bernie seemed in less pain.

  When the darkness came they were all exhausted. Their only sustenance had been water from the unbroken dispenser and a packet of dry biscuits. Al had not thought of rationing anything because he quite expected they would be rescued shortly. It occurred to him that he should have checked just how much water there was. It was too late now. Darkness had descended and the only thing to do was sleep.

  Cathy and Bernie were on the bed. Evan was huddled in the seat he had not moved out of all day. Paul had chosen to sleep on the floor in the bedroom. Dallas and Al sat side by side in two intact seats near the break in the plane.

  Night had brought a respite from the interminable flies, and that was a relief. But strange jungle noises were all around them, and the impossible heat of the day tu
rned into icy cold at night.

  Al slid his arm around her. ‘I told you I’d take you somewhere romantic.’

  She moved as near to him as she could get. ‘You’re not going to break into song, are you?’

  ‘Only if you’ll pay me.’

  She tried to laugh, but it caught in her throat and emerged more like a sob.

  ‘Hey – you’re not going to break on me, lady? You’ve been pretty fantastic all day.’

  ‘Al? We’re in real trouble, aren’t we? How are they ever going to find us? We’re lost – even if planes did fly over, how would they spot us? We would be hidden from sight by the trees.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he replied easily, much more easily than he actually felt. ‘Tomorrow night we’ll be at the Beverly Hills Hotel celebrating on fat juicy steaks and champagne. And if you’re good – you know what?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ll take you to a party at Karmen Rush’s. How does that hit you?’

  ‘Like a ton of shit!’

  ‘Oh, that’s nice – really nice!’

  This time her laughter stuck, and she fell asleep soon after.

  Al didn’t sleep. He stared out into the blackness, thinking about the reality of it all.

  They had been missing how long? At least twenty-four hours, and Dallas was right, not one plane had flown over, and she was also right about the trees shielding them from sight. Quite obviously the authorities did not know where to look. If they did, there would have been some activity in the sky today.

  The fact was it might take days before they were found. And how would they survive? There was no food, little water. Cathy and Bernie were both in a bad way… How long could they last without proper treatment?

  Al swore softly under his breath. He was so used to picking up a phone and having a dozen people jumping at his every command. Somehow he felt cheated that this situation could not be taken care of in the same way.

  Here he was, roughing it on a fucking airplane seat, whilst Bernie Suntan enjoyed the comforts of his bed. What a switch that was.

  A monkey howled loudly nearby. Al jumped. Dallas mumbled something in her sleep. He stroked her hair. He loved her. For the very first time in his life he loved a woman. And he had to protect her, save her. And goddamn it he would.

  Tomorrow he would find the other half of the plane, see if the radio was still working, get some action going.

  Yes. And he would find some food, there must be fruit, berries… His eyes were closing, niggly little pains attacking every part of his body. Scratches, cuts, strains, bruises… He had used muscles he had forgotten existed.

  ‘Tomorrow…’ he mumbled. ‘I’ll get it together tomorrow…’

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  By Saturday afternoon a passenger list of those aboard the missing Al King jet was published.

  Linda read it through twice.

  ‘I can’t believe it,’ she said to Cody, ‘I just can’t believe it.’

  He was stunned himself.

  ‘How can a huge jet like that just vanish?’ Linda demanded for the hundredth time.

  He shook his head. ‘I can only think that it must have been hijacked. If it had crashed they would have found it by now.’

  ‘Oh God!’ Linda buried her face in her hands. ‘It just doesn’t bear thinking about. What can we do?’

  He had been thinking the same thing himself. It was such an impossible situation to have to garner every little piece of news from television and newspapers.

  ‘I’m going to place a call to Carlos Baptista. If anyone knows what’s going on it’s him.’

  * * *

  In New York, Melanie King licked dewy red lips, blinked baby blue eyes, and smiled into the television camera. ‘Manny and I are in a dreadful state,’ she said in reply to the interviewer’s question. ‘Paul and Manny are the best of friends. There has never been unpleasantness between any of us. After all, divorce is such an everyday happening nowadays. Paul is like… well, he’s like a much-loved brother.’ She paused triumphantly, pleased with her choice of words.

  Marjorie Carter, who was conducting the interview, leaned forward intently. ‘How about Al, Melanie? You must know him as well as anyone. How do you think he would be able to cope if this is indeed a hijack?’

  Melanie widened her eyes. ‘Al King is a wonderful human being… kind and generous. I’m sure he would react in the appropriate fashion.’

  ‘Thank you, dear, for being with us in your time of stress.’ Marjorie faced the camera straight on. ‘Well, that’s all for now. We will be bringing you the news as it comes in. Meanwhile, Al King, wherever you are, our thoughts are with you. This is Marjorie Carter signing off.’

  The red light on the camera flicked off.

  Melanie asked breathily: ‘Was I all right?’

  Gathering papers together, Marjorie threw her a cynical look. ‘All right? You’re kidding, aren’t you? The sonofabitch should have you write his obituary for him! Since when has that prick been a “kind and generous, wonderful human being”? Crap – pure crap. I’ve had him, I should know.’

  Melanie dived into her bag and produced a small hand mirror. She studied her face. Petulantly she said: ‘I hope I looked all right – if you need me again I’ll be happy to come back.’

  ‘Sure, kid,’ replied Marjorie. ‘If they find the body you can come again! Oh – and give my best to Manny.’

  * * *

  ‘She is under sedation,’ Jorge said, his face grey with strain.

  ‘I’ll just sit with her,’ Doris Andrews replied softly, ‘comfort her.’

  ‘If you like…’ agreed Jorge.

  He led Doris through to the bedroom. Evita lay wanly in the centre of the bed, her face a pale mask, her eyes wide open and staring.

  ‘Doris is here,’ Jorge said quietly. ‘She’ll sit with you for a while.’

  Evita’s eyes flickered slightly.

  Doris took her hand and sat on the side of the bed. ‘It’s terrible,’ she said, ‘dreadful. I have friends on the plane…’

  Jorge walked quietly from the room. Bad enough that Evita knew about Cristina and Louis being on the plane, but he didn’t dare to tell her the latest news he had received. Apparently when they had boarded the plane at the last minute, they had been accompanied by a third party. A young man dressed in a mechanic’s overalls. From his description he sounded uncannily like Nino.

  * * *

  Lew Margolis said, ‘What was the cunt doing on a plane with Al King in the first place?’

  Cody gripped the phone tightly, trying not to lose his temper. ‘She was having a rest.’

  Lew snorted nastily. ‘A rest? With that motherfucker? The cunt was supposed to be at the studio working for me. Remember?’

  ‘You had fired her,’ Cody reminded him.

  ‘So I hired her again. Big fuckin’ deal.’

  ‘Will the studio release a statement or shall I?’

  ‘We will. The publicity will give Man Made Woman a peachy send-off. Trying to get it slotted on the tube earlier than planned. The cunt might have done us a favour.’

  Cody’s temper snapped. ‘Don’t keep on calling her that.’

  ‘What you want I should call her? Princess?’ He sniggered. ‘Did I ever tell you, Cody, about how I first met your beautiful client?’

  ‘No.’

  Lew thought better of revealing the facts. ‘Some other time – remind me. By the way – you got any other girls right for the part? Looks like we might have ourselves a vacancy.’

  * * *

  Edna sat in her kitchen sipping her fifth cup of tea in an hour. She was trying to sort out her feelings. She was grieved but not heartbroken. And that was a horrible reaction. Why didn’t she feel worse?

  Was it the uncertainty? The fact that nobody knew whether the occupants of the plane were dead or alive?

  Her husband was on board. Her son. The two men she had devoted her life to. The two men who had prevented her from having any life of her o
wn.

  She had let go long ago… the night she had walked in on Al in Tucson. And the relief of not caring any more… The simple pleasure of living her life without having to put two other unappreciative people before her.

  Al first… then Evan. She had realized the mistake of clinging to her son. He would be better off with his father. She would be better off alone.

  Now this…

  The photographers and news media had descended like vultures. How happy they were that he was with another woman on the plane. They seemed to have forgotten the fact that she had previously announced she was divorcing him. That was an irrelevant fact now. It spoiled the dramatic suspense. Far better to have a ‘left at home’ wife while he had been gallivanting with a beautiful young girl across America.

  She had sent them all packing. But they were still outside the house, waiting like birds of prey to pounce as soon as she appeared.

  She had made her way across the garden and comforted Paul’s two children. Nanny was in an awful state, sobbing and wailing.

  ‘Is Mrs. King returning from New York?’ Edna asked.

  ‘She can’t,’ snivelled Nanny. ‘She phoned to say it’s impossible. Oh, it’s so awful… That poor, poor man… And to think I only spoke to him a few days ago… Oh, it’s dreadful… shocking… These poor little mites… What will happen to them?’

  ‘We don’t know the worst yet, Nanny. The plane might be perfectly safe in some other country. Please try and calm yourself.’

  ‘Yes,’ sobbed Nanny, ‘yes.’

  Edna phoned the telephone exchange and asked them to reconnect her phone. Then she went home and waited. It was all she could do – wait.

  * * *

  ‘You left Acapulco very suddenly,’ Doris Andrews whispered. ‘Why was that? You didn’t even say goodbye.’

  Evita stared at her. ‘Jorge had to get back… Unexpectedly.’

  ‘Oh. I see.’ Doris squeezed her hand. ‘I was hoping it had nothing to do with what happened between us.’

  ‘It didn’t,’ Evita replied shortly.

  ‘Good.’

  The two women were silent. Evita lying wanly on the bed. Doris sitting close by.

  ‘I thought of writing many times,’ Doris confided, ‘but then I would change my mind.’ She laughed nervously. ‘I hate rejection, you know.’