cb.booksofblood2-第17章

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。　If　she　had　been　there；　they　had　removed　any　sign。　But　the　house；　now　in　virtual　ruin；　was　prey　to　all　manner　of　graffiti；　and　on　the　stained　plaster　wall　of　that　room　someone　had　scrawled　a　woman。　She　was　obscenely　over…endowed；　her　gaping　sex　blazing　with　what　looked　like　lightning。　And　at　her　feet　there　was　a　creature　of　indeterminate　species。　Perhaps　a　crab；　perhaps　a　dog；　perhaps　even　a　man。　Whatever　it　was　it　had　no　power　over　itself。　It　sat　in　the　light　of　her　agonizing　presence　and　counted　itself　amongst　the　fortunate。　Looking　at　that　wizened　creature；　with　its　eyes　turned　up　to　gaze　on　the
　
　burning　Madonna；　I　knew　the　picture　was　a　portrait　of　Jacqueline。
　I　don't　know　how　long　I　stood　looking　at　the　graffiti；　but　I　was　interrupted　by　a　man　who　looked　to　be　in　a　worse　condition　than　me。　A　beard　that　had　never　been　trimmed　or　washed；　a　frame　so　wasted　I　wondered　how　he　managed　to　stand　upright；　and　a　smell　that　would　not　have　shamed　a　skunk。
　I　never　knew　his　name：　but　he　was；　he　told　me；　the　maker　of　the　picture　on　the　wall。　It　was　easy　to　believe　that。　His　desperation；　his　hunger；　his　confusion　were　all　marks　of　a　man　who　had　seen　Jacqueline。
　If　I　was　rough　in　my　interrogation　of　him　I'm　sure　he　forgave　me。　It　was　an　unburdening　for　him；　to　tell　everything　he'd　seen　the　day　that　Pettifer　had　been　killed；　and　know　that　I　believed　it　all。　He　told　me　his　fellow　bodyguard；　the　man　who　had　fifed　the　shots　that　had　killed　Pettifer；　had　mitted　suicide　in　prison。
　His　life；　he　said；　was　meaningless。　She　had　destroyed　it。　I　gave　him　what　reassurances　I　could；　that　she　meant　no　harm；　and　that　he　needn't　fear　that　she　would　e　for　him。　When　I　told　him　that；　he　cried；　more；　I　think；　out　of　loss　than　relief。
　Finally　I　asked　him　if　he　knew　where　Jacqueline　was　now。　I'd　left　that　question　to　the　end；　though　it　had　been　the　most　pressing　enquiry；　because　I　suppose　I　didn't　dare　hope　he'd　know。　But　my　God；　he　did。　She　had　not　left　the　house　immediately　after　the　shooting　of　Pettifer。　She　had　sat　down　with　this　man；　and　talked　to　him　quietly　about　his　children；　his　tailor；　his　car。　She'd　asked　him　what　his　mother　had　been　like；　and　he'd　told　her　his　mother　had　been　a　prostitute。　Had　she　been　happy？　Jacqueline　had　asked。　He'd　said　he　didn't　know。　Did　she　ever　cry；　she'd　asked。　He'd　said　he　never　saw　her　laugh　or　cry　in　his　life。　And　she'd　nodded；　and　thanked　him。
　Later；　before　his　suicide；　the　other　gunman　had　told　him　Jacqueline　had　gone　to　Amsterdam。　This　he　knew　for　a　fact；　from　a　man　called　Koos。　And　so　the　circle　begins　to　close；　yes？
　I　was　in　Amsterdam　seven　weeks；　without　finding　a　single　clue　to　her　whereabouts；　until　yesterday　evening。　Seven　weeks　of　celibacy；　which　is　unusual　for　me。　Listless　with　frustration　I　went　down　to　the　red…light　district；　to　find　a　woman。　They　sit　there　you　know；　in　the　windows；　like　mannequins；　beside　pink…fringed　lamps。　Some　have　miniature　dogs　on　their　laps；　some　read。　Most　just　stare　out　at　the　street；　as　if　mesmerized。
　There　were　no　faces　there　that　interested　me。　They　all　seemed　joyless；　lightless；　too　much　unlike　her。　Yet　I　couldn't　leave。　I　was　like　a　fat　boy　in　a　sweet　shop；　too　nauseous　to　buy；　too　gluttonous　to　go。
　Towards　the　middle　of　the　night；　I　was　spoken　to　out　of　the　crowd　by　a　young　man　who；　on　closer　inspection；　was　not　young　at　all；　but　heavily　made　up。　He　had　no　eyebrows；　just　pencil　marks　drawn　on　to　his　shiny　skin。　A　cluster　of　gold　earrings　in　his　left　ear；　a　half…eaten　peach　in　his　white…gloved　hand；　open　sandals；　lacquered　toenails。　He　took　hold　of　my　sleeve；　proprietarily。
　I　must　have　sneered　at　his　sickening　appearance；　but　he　didn't　seem　at　all　upset　by　my　contempt。　You　look　like　a　man　of　discernment；　he　said。　I　looked　nothing　of　the　kind：　you　must　be　mistaken；　I　said。　No；　he　replied；　I　am　not　mistaken。　You　are　Oliver　Vassi。
　My　first　thought；　absurdly；　was　that　he　intended　to　kill　me。　I　tried　to　pull　away；　his　grip　on　my　cuff　was　relentless。
　
　You　want　a　woman；　he　said。　Did　I　hesitate　enough　for　him　to　know　I　meant　yes；　though　I　said　no？　I　have　a　woman　like　no　other；　he　went　on；　she's　a　miracle。　I　know　you'll　want　to　meet　her　in　the　flesh。
　What　made　me　know　it　was　Jacqueline　he　was　talking　about？　Perhaps　the　fact　that　he　had　known　me　from　out　of　the　crowd；　as　though　she　was　up　at　a　window　somewhere；　ordering　her　admirers　to　be　brought　to　her　like　a　diner　ordering　lobster　from　a　tank。　Perhaps　too　the　way　his　eyes　shone　at　me；　meeting　mine　without　fear　because　fear；　like　rapture；　he　felt　only　in　the　presence　of　one　creature　on　God's　cruel　earth。　Could　I　not　also　see　myself　reflected　in　his　perilous　look？　He　knew　Jacqueline；　I　had　no　doubt　of　it。
　
　He　knew　I　was　hooked；　because　once　I　hesitated　he　turned　away　from　me　with　a　mincing　shrug；　as　if　to　say：　you　missed　your　chance。　Where　is　she？　I　said；　seizing　his　twig…thin　arm。　He　cocked　his　head　down　the　street　and　I　followed　him；　suddenly　as　witless　as　an　idiot；　out　of　the　throng。　The　road　emptied　as　we　walked；　the　red　lights　gave　way　to　gloom；　and　then　to　darkness。　If　I　asked　him　where　we　were　going　once　I　asked　him　a　dozen　times；　he　chose　not　to　answer；　until　we　reached　a　narrow　door　in　a　narrow　house　down　some　razor…thin　street。　We're　here；　he　announced；　as　though　the　hovel　were　the　Palace　of　Versailles。
　Up　two　flights　in　the　otherwise　empty　house　there　was　a　room　with　a　black　door。　He　pressed　me　to　it。　It　was　locked。
　'See；'　he　invited；　'she's　inside。'
　'It's　locked；'　I　replied。　My　heart　was　fit　to　burst：　she　was　near；　for　certain；　I　knew　she　was　near。
　'See；'　he　said　again；　and　pointed　to　a　tiny　hole　in　the　panel　of　the　door。　I　devoured　the　light　through　it；　pushing　my　eye　towards　her　through　the　tiny　hole。
　The　squalid　interior　was　empty；　except　for　a　mattress　and　Jacqueline。　She　lay　spread…eagled；　her　wrists　and　ankles　bound　to　rough　posts　set　in　the　bare　floor　at　the　four　corners　of　the　mattress。
　'Who　did　this？'　I　demanded；　not　taking　my　eye　from　her　nakedness。
　'She　asks；'　he　replied。　'It　is　her　desire。　She　asks。'　She　had　heard　my　voice；　she　cranked　up　her　head　with　some　difficulty　and　stared　directly　at　the　door。　When　she　looked　at　me　all　the　hairs　rose　on　my　head；　I　swear　it；　in　wele；　and　swayed　at　her　mand。
　'Oliver；'　she　said。
　'Jacqueline。'　I　pressed　the　word　to　the　wood　with　a　kiss。
　Her　body　was　seething；　her　shaved　sex　opening　and　closing　like　some　exquisite　plant；　purple　and　lilac　and　rose。
　'Let　me　in；'　I　said　to　Koos。
　'You　will　not　survive　one　night　with　her。'
　'Let　me　in。'
　'She　is　expensive；'　he　warned。
　'How　much　do　you　want？'
　'Everything　you　have。　The　shirt　off　your　back；　your　money；　your　jewellery；　then　she　is　yours。'
　I　wanted　to　beat　the　door　down；　or　break　his　nicotine　stained　fingers　one　by　one　until　he　gave　me　the　key。　He　knew　what　I　was　thinking。
　'The　key　is　hidden；'　he　said；　'And　the　door　is　strong。　You　must　pay；　Mr　Vassi。　You　want　to　pay。'
　It　was　true。　I　wanted　to　pay。
　'You　want　to　give　me　all　you　have　ever　owned；　all　you　have　ever　been。　You　want　to　go　to　her　with　nothing　to　claim　you　back。　I　know　this。　It'　s　how　they　all　go　to　her。'
　'All？　Are　there　many？'
　'She　is　insatiable；'　he　said；　without　relish。　It　wasn't　a　pimp's　boast：　it　was　his　pain；　I　saw　that　clearly。　'I　am　always　finding　more　for　her；　and　burying　them。'
　Burying　them。
　That；　I　suppose；　is　Koos'　function；　he　disposes　of　the　dead。　And　he　will　get　his　lacquered　hands　on　me　after　tonight；　he　will　fetch　me　off　her　when　I　am　dry　and　useless　to　her；　and　find　some　pit；　some　canal；　some　furnace　to　lose　me　in。　The　thought　isn't　particularly　attractive。
　Yet　here　I　am　with　all　the　money　I　could　raise　from　selling　my　few　remaining　possessions　on　the　table　in　front　of　me；　my　dignity　gone；　my　life　hanging　on　a　thread；　waiting　for　a　pimp　and　a　key。
　It's　well　dark　now；　and　he's　late。　But　I　think　he　is　obliged　to　e。　Not　for　the　money；　he　probably　has　few　requirements　beyond　his　heroin　and　his　mascara。　He　will　e　to　do　business　with　me　because　she　demands　it　and　he　is　in　thrall　to　her；　every　bit　as　much　as　I　am。　Oh；　he　will　e。　Of　course　he　will　e。
　Well；　I　think　that　is　sufficient。
　This　is　my　testimony。　I　have　no　time　to　re…read　it　now。　His　footsteps　are　on　the　stairs　（he　limps）　and　I　must　go　with　him。　This　I　leave　to　whoever　finds　it；　to　use　as　they　think　fit。　By　morning　I　shall　be　dead；　and　happy。　Believe　it。'
　My　God；　she　thought；　Koos　has　cheated　me。
　Vassi　had　been　outside　the　door；　she'd　felt　his　flesh　with　her　mind　and　she'd　embraced　it。　But　Koos　hadn't　let　him　in；　despite　her　explicit　orders。　Of　all　men；　Vassi　was　to　be　allowed　free　access；　Koos　knew　that。　But　he'd　cheated　her；　the　way　they'd　all　cheated　her　except　Vassi。　With　him　（perhaps）　it　had　been　love。
　She　lay　on　the　bed　through　the　night；　never　sleeping。　She　seldom　slept　now　for　more　than　a　few　minutes：　and　only　then　with　Koos　watching　her。　She'd　done　herself　harm　in　her　sleep；　mutilating　herself　without　knowing　it；　waking　up　bleeding　and　screaming　with　every　limb　sprouting　needles　she'd　made　out　of　her　own　skin　and　muscle；　like　a　flesh　cactus。
　It　was　dark　again；　she　guessed；　but　it　was　difficult　to　be　sure。　In　this　heavily　curtained；　bare…bulb　lit　room；　it　was　a　perpetual　day　to　the　senses；　perpetual　night　to　the　soul。　She　would　lie；　bed…sores　on　her　back；　on　her　buttocks；　listening　to　the　far　sounds　of　the　street；　sometimes　dozing　for　a　while；　sometimes　eating　from　Koos'　hand；　being　washed；　being　toileted；　being　used。
　A　key　turned　in　the　lock。　She　strained　from　the　mattress　to　see　who　it　was。　The　door　was　opening。　。　。　opening。。。　opened。
　Vassi。　Oh　God；　it　was　Vassi　at　last；　she　could　see　him　crossing　the　room　towards　her。
　Let　this　not　be　another　memory；　she　prayed；　please　let　it　be　him　this　time：　true　and　real。
　'Jacqueline。'
　He　said　the　name　of　her　flesh；　the　whole　name。
　'Jacqueline。'　It　was　him。
　Behind　him；　Koos　stared　between　her　legs；　fascinated　by　the　dance　of　her　labia。
　'Koo。　。　。'　she　said；　trying　to　smile。
　'I　brought　him；'　he　grinned　at　her；　not　looking　away　from　her　sex。
　'A　day；'　she　whispered。　'I　waited　a　day；　Koos。　You　made　me　wait　…'
　'What's　a　day　to　you？'　he　said；　still　grinning。
　She　didn't　need　the　pimp　any　longer；　not　that　he　knew　that。　In　his　innocence　he　thought　Vassi　was　just　another　man　she'd　seduced　along　the　way；　to　be　drained　and　discarded　like　the　others。　Koos　believed　he　would　be　needed　tomorrow；　that's　why　he　played　this　fatal　game　so　artlessly。
　'Lock　the　door；'　she　suggested　to　him。　'Stay　if　you　like。'
　'Stay？'　he　said；　leering。　'You　mean；　and　watch？'
　He　watched　anyway。　She　knew　he　watched　through　that　hole　he　had　bored　in　the　door；　she　could　hear　him　pant　sometimes。　But　this　time；　let　him　stay　forever。
　Carefully；　he　took　the　key　from　the　outside　of　the　door；　closed　it；　slipped　the　key　into　the　inside　and　locked　it。　Even　as　the　lock　clicked　she　killed　him；　before　he　could　even　turn　round　and　look　at　her　again。　Nothing　spectacular　in　the　execution；　she　just　reached　into　his　pigeon　chest　and　crushed　his　lungs。　He　slumped　against　the　door　and　slid　down；　smearing　his　face　across　the　wood。
　Vassi　didn't　even　turn　round　to　see　him　die；　she　was　all　he　ever　wanted　to　look　at　again。
　He　approached　the　mattress；　cro