Jason Frost - The cutthroat

She frowned distastefully. "That's a horrible thought, Eric."

"Perhaps."

Another knocking at the door. "It's me," Blackjack said. His voice seemed different. The impish lilt in it was gone. It sounded flat and drained. "Coming through."

The door opened and he shoved Angel into the room, pulling the door closed behind him.

"Christ," Tracy gasped, wincing at the sight of Angel.

Angel stood in the middle of the room, her eyes glaring defiantly. She resembled a small animal that had been chased through thorny thickets until she could run no longer. Her mouth was bracketed by crooked lines of dried blood down her chin that made her look a little like a ventriloquist's dummy. A large blue bruise swelled under her right eye, stretching the skin taut. Her narrow neck was bruised in a pattern of four fingers on one side of the throat and a thumb imprint on the other side.

"Keep him away from me," she screamed, pointing at Blackjack. Her accent was more pronounced than before. "He is crazy. He tried to kill me." She rubbed the bruises on her throat.

Blackjack looked away from her. Guiltily, Tracy thought. Flopping down into a chair, he plucked a pen and pad from his pocket and tossed them onto the bed between Eric and Tracy. "She's ready."

"Yes, I will draw your map," Angel sneered. "But I will also draw one for Rhino. He will kill all of you."

Eric handed her the small pad and Bic pen. "Right now, Rhino's the last person you'll want to see. If he finds out you killed Alabaster and stole the map behind his back, he'll do things to you beyond even your imagination."

She stared at him silently, then opened the note pad and began drawing.

"I wanted her to do the map in front of all of us," Blackjack said. "That way we can keep everything aboveboard. Okay?"

Eric gave him a funny smile. "Appreciate the thought."

"Let's just get it over with and get the hell out of here," Tracy said.

Angel scribbled away on the pad.

"One other question," Tracy said, standing. "What do we do with her once we have the map?"

"I promised her we'd release her," Blackjack said. "Any problems with that?"

Angel stopped writing, looked up at Eric.

Eric turned toward Tracy. "You have any problem with that?"

"I don't know," Tracy answered, avoiding looking in Angel's direction. She could feel the woman's dynamic presence there like a hot wind. "How do we know the map will be accurate? She may be lying."

"Good point," Eric said.

"I destroyed the original map," Angel said. "But this is the same. I swear."

"You'll pardon me," Tracy said, "but your assurances aren't quite enough. I mean, what happens when we go to God knows where and find nothing there but a couple of iguanas sunning themselves on the hood of an Edsel?"

Blackjack nodded. "There's an element of chance involved, sure. But she also knows that we'll make sure Rhino knows what she'd done with Alabaster. That'll mean he'll be after her as well as us. California just ain't that big anymore. Where's she going to hide?"

"We can always take her with us?" Eric suggested. He was looking at Tracy in such a way that she felt as if the decision was up to her. She would decide Angel's fate.

"You promised to let me go if I drew map," Angel hollered. "You made bargain."

"Did you?" Tracy asked Blackjack.

Blackjack shrugged.

"Okay, we'll stick to the deal." Tracy shifted her eyes to meet Angel's. "And we'll rely on her good sense, knowing what will happen to her if she lies."

Angel bent back over the map, the Bic fine-point pen scratching against the paper.

Outside the door and window, the constant sound of the unending party continued. Merchants still hawked their wares, visitors guzzled BeBop's Brew.

When she was done, Angel stood up and threw the pad into Blackjack's face. "You black bastard."

The wire binding left a slight welt on his cheek, but he ignored that as he studied the map, grinning. "Just a couple days inland from here. No sweat." He held the pad out to Eric. "Wanna see?"

Eric shook his head. "Let's get started. You go back to the ship and gather the crew. Tracy and I will go into the marketplace and pick up a few things for the trip."

"Right."

"What about me?" Angel said.

Eric pointed at the door. "I'd head south. Rhino's bound to figure it all out sooner or later."

She started to say something just as the door flew open, banging into the wall. A squad of five armed men crowded around the door, each wearing the Hearst Castle T-shirt that identified them as BeBop's security force. They were pointing an assortment of sharp weapons at Eric and the others in the room.

Behind them, hovering over their shoulders, Rhino rocked anxiously, thrusting an accusing finger at them. "There they are. There!"

Angel's movements were explosive, like those of a bat discovered behind a shutter. She ran toward a second-story window, did a handspring onto the floor that propelled her feet-first through the glass and onto the stone terrace. Without hesitation, she vaulted over the side, leaping into the large tree nearby.

"Get her!" Rhino yelled, his voice trembling with rage.

Two of the security squad finally shook off their amazement long enough to race across the room and lean out over the balcony. A couple arrows were fired into the rustling tree, but they were swallowed harmlessly by thick branches and leaves.

Even inside they could hear the slap of Angel's bare feet racing away.

"Let her go," a bearded member of the squad said, turning back to Tracy, Blackjack, and Eric. "At least we still have these three."

"Kill them!" Rhino ordered. "Kill them now!"

"I warned you," BeBop smiled. "I really did."

They were standing amidst a crowd of people gathered around the elaborate indoor pool northeast of the Casa Grande. The room housing the giant pool filled with reflected orange light from the high arched windows along the wall. The floor and walls were completely covered in blue glass tiles imported from Murano, Italy, causing the room to shimmer eerily, as if they were all underwater rather than standing next to a pool.

Spaced around the pool were eight Carrara marble sculptures commissioned of Carlo Fre-ter of Pietrasanta, Italy, just for this room. Each was a reproduction of a famous classical work.

BeBop was leaning against "Diana and the Deer." Someone with a felt pen had vandalized the statue, drawing nipples where the breasts were covered by the white marble folds of her dress. Black pubic hairs were scribbled between her legs.

"Didn't I warn them, Tsetse?"

The young boy sat against the wall, balancing his blow gun on his knees. "Yeah, BeBop, you warned 'em. I heard you."

BeBop looked at Eric, Tracy, and Blackjack, then sighed like a parent disappointed with his children's behavior. With a grin, he strummed his guitar and began to sing, improvising an off-key tune. "Oh, baby, I warned ya/Tole ya not to be no asshole/ When you visiting Hearst Cas-tle." He laughed. "Not bad, huh? The acoustics in this place are awesome."

"Let's get on with it," Rhino said, standing with what was left of his crew. His eyes were rimmed with red and his lumpish body trembled, even while standing still. Whatever demons had invaded his system after passing through the Halo seemed to have accelerated until Rhino jittered like a man standing on a live wire. It was as if his entire nervous system were disintegrating. Occasionally he snapped his rubber band, but more out of habit than to control himself. He was past that now. The flesh on the inside of his wrist was bruised and raw, but he didn't feel anything there when he snapped the rubber band and shouted, "I want them executed."

This brought excited murmurs from the early morning crowd. An execution would be an entertaining way to start the day.