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Authors: Charles Knief

BOOK: Diamond Head
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“W
hat do you have? Snuff films?” It took an effort to keep the horror from my voice, barely managing to keep it casual.
The burned-out coals Thompson used for eyes regarded me for a full ten count before he replied.
“That's going to cost you,” he said. “Parity is what you said you wanted. If that's what you want we'll have to be partners. What can you bring to the party?”
“I don't know the extent of your operation—”
“Oh come on, Mr. Caine. I know your background. I checked you out. Give me a little credit.”
“Access to MacGruder,” I said.
“I should say so.” Thompson smiled, his capped teeth looking like rows of little white tombstones. “For starters, you've got an admiral in the United States Navy who has trusted you with a valuable secret. Granted it's personal, but it's still valuable. Have you checked his resources?”
“There's money.” I was skating along the edge of control, saying the first thing that came into my mind to stay in the game.
“That's all you know?”
I shook my head, unsure where this was going.
“No?” he asked in mock surprise. “Well, I have checked him out. I don't suppose you know that he is from the Virginia MacGruders?”
I shook my head.
“You've heard about the Virginia MacGruders?”
“I'm ignorant of the subject.”
“The
Mayflower
ring a bell?”
I nodded.
“The first MacGruder who counted in America was one Charles Winston MacGruder, a Scotsman, who just happened to be one of the officers of that fine vessel. His descendants remained. Since your Revolution there has been a MacGruder in the service of the United States Navy at either flag rank or as a lowly captain. There's a family home in Virginia. It's been in the clan since the end of your Civil War, a reward, you might say, for services rendered to the Union.
“Two thousand acres. There have been three United States senators from Virginia with the MacGruder name. The last one was the current admiral's father.
“Your friend MacGruder is a member in good standing of the closest thing America has to a landed aristocracy. Back in feudal times, Admiral MacGruder would have been a nobleman, raising his own army or navy for the battle. Can you imagine how much cash a man like that can lay his hands on? Two thousand acres of prime real estate? He's got to be worth hundreds of millions of American dollars.”
I thought about it and could not picture it. But then, that kind of money had never been a driving force in my life.
“You will note the absence of sons in the current family, the absence of any heir at all? The admiral's wife and daughter died within six months of one another, leaving him alone in his advanced years. He appears to be the end of the line.”
“Which means … ?”
“Unlimited ability to pick his pockets.”
“With access—”
“Absolutely.”
“A snuff film with Mary's brand,” I mused. “If MacGruder knows she played a part, and that we have the proof, he'll pay anything to protect his career and to protect his daughter's reputation.”
“You've got that in the proper order, Mr. Caine. His career will always come first.”
“What did he say when you approached him?”
Thompson looked at me sharply. For the second time today I'd taken him by surprise.
“Did he tell you about that?”
“Yes,” I lied. I'd made a guess and it appeared to have been a good one. I was getting information that wouldn't have been available otherwise. If only I knew where all this was going.
“Then you must be very close to the admiral. Or you caught him off guard.”
“He saved my life a long time ago.”
Thompson grinned, neat little capped teeth on display, so uniform they looked nearly pointed, his otherwise handsome features a Halloween mask. “He saved you so we could pluck him. That's wonderful.”
“You have the tapes on board?”
Thompson nodded. He left the lounge and returned with a VHS tape cassette with a commercial label. The label featured a cartoon of Rex Harrison as Henry Higgins pulling the strings of a puppet I recognized as the actress who played Eliza Doolittle. I couldn't remember her name.
“My Fair Lady?”
“You like that?”
I wasn't interested in whimsy, but I smiled politely. He started the tape and fast-forwarded the machine, causing the opening dance numbers to fly across the screen. In the middle of a song-and-dance number there was a sudden overlay. The washed-out colors of the old production gave way to a muted but clear video picture of the same room in which Mary had
previously participated. The camera angle was identical. The background was the same. Thompson slowed the tape to normal speed and the Hollywood production was replaced by the still life of the rack and the room, giving me a slight case of vertigo.
This time I noticed plastic tarps covering the carpet. I braced myself to watch what I did not want to watch, knowing what I was going to see.
At first the set was empty. The rack was featured in the foreground, the camera angle head-on. No imagination would be required. When the action began, two men led a docile and naked young woman into the camera's vision. There was no sound but the hiss and pops of the speakers, and I thought it was a silent video until one of the men coughed. The production was off to a slow start. The actors didn't appear to be certain what they were going to do. It occurred to me this might have been a first attempt.
The girl was frightened. I could tell she was in some kind of chemical cloud, but it wasn't deep enough to overcome her apprehension. The drug-induced placidity and the nervous tension combined to make her look like a slightly disturbed cow. Her face was plain and doughy in a way that reminded me of a younger version of the woman in
American Gothic.
She wasn't pretty in the classic sense, but youth flatters even the plainest of features. Her body, however, was spectacular, the classic Venus figure. In a few years, and after a couple of children, it would become a disappointment, but the camera caught her in full bloom, before time's assault started wearing down the tissues. Her breasts were perfect, full and round, with pink nipples pointed toward the heavens. She'd never had children. Her hips flared from a narrow waist. Strong, athletic legs supported her, or would have had she been able to stand on her own. The drug and her fear weakened her.
Mary MacGruder was not present. Two Asian males wearing nothing but black ski masks handled the girl, strapping her
onto the rack. Both were physiologically affected by their task. I made a clinical appraisal of their bodies. They were not American bodies. Flabby and hairless, they had the typical Asian middle-management, middle-aged flaccidity that comes from spending years behind a desk with little or no exercise. These were merchants, predators of the marketplace, out for adventure.
I remembered a recent scandal in California where a rancher sold hunting rights on his land to deep-pocket businessmen. The “hunters” paid big dollars to shoot big-game animals on the ranch. All of the animals were either tied to posts or in cages when the “hunters” shot them. It made me wonder what these assholes paid for the privilege of raping and killing this helpless girl.
Her mouth was gagged with a rubber ball, kept in place with an elastic tube around her head. I'd never seen anything like it, but it effectively cut off any attempt at screaming. The camera never moved during the preparations, and no words were exchanged between the two men. It was a sweaty, tedious demonstration of inefficiency. The men's hands were shaking. Curiously, the girl attempted no protest, cooperating with her captors. That for me was the most disturbing thing of all.
I memorized the girl's face and body. I noted a small red tattoo on her right hip. It appeared to be a tiny red heart. I couldn't make out the caption that floated on her flesh above it. She had a keloid scar on her right knee, evidence of old ligament surgery.
And the resemblance of her face to the woman in
American Gothic
was striking. I knew I would never again be able to look at that painting without remembering this girl.
After some preliminary preparation, one of the Asians mounted the girl and grunted against her. It reminded me of pigs mating, except pigs had more intelligence and gentility. He finished quickly, a little too quickly to suit the other man's taste. When he withdrew, his penis slack, his partner laughed and
said something I did not understand. I listened intently. The language was Japanese. It was too fast for me, but I caught the word
sakanaya,
“fish market.” The first man shook his head and replied, also in Japanese.
I looked to Thompson for clarification, but he wasn't listening. He was lost in the movie.
The second Japanese raped her. He was harsher and took longer. As his excitement built, he became rougher still, slapping the girl. The more excited he became, the harder he slapped her. The first man positioned himself behind the rack and slipped a piece of narrow white line around her neck.
I tried not to watch the screen but I made the mistake of looking at the girl's eyes. They were the only part of her body she could move. The second man neared climax and shouted to the first man. I didn't know what he said but his meaning was clear. The rope began to tighten. I watched the girl's eyes widen, pleading for help.
The man did a bad job of strangling her. It took a long time, but I could not take my eyes from her face. Finally her eyes lost focus. Even with the poor quality of the tape I could see the exact moment when her body went slack.
The man climaxed as life left her body.
He pulled himself out of her and helped his partner cut down the body. The way the corpse dropped to the floor it was obvious the girl was dead. I'd seen enough bodies to recognize the real thing. The rope was embedded in her neck as it had been in Mary MacGruder's.
This was how Mary died? As a play toy for visiting businessmen? Somewhere there would be a tape of the act. I had to get my hands on it and destroy it. It was something I could never show to MacGruder. And I didn't want anyone else to view it for pleasure or for justice. I wanted to bury the tape as deep as I could.
All the tapes.
I wanted to get my hands on Thompson and strangle him
as this girl had been strangled. But not yet. His time would come. I had a job to do first.
The picture faded and was replaced by Eliza Doolittle singing and gliding around what looked like a two-story English library set, an obscene counterpoint.
Thompson got up and rewound the tape. “If you run it backward you can bring her back to life,” he said.
I didn't even smile.
“How much do you get for one of those?” I asked, distrusting my voice.
“Fifty thousand. In cash. The buyer can participate if he wishes, of course. He can take his pick: a blonde, a brunette, a boy, a girl, twins, whatever his tastes. Some requests are more difficult to fill and therefore more expensive. This is a small island and if we have to import for any reason the cost goes up. Disposal was a problem, too, but we managed to solve that.”
“How many tapes do you have?”
“Trade secret, my friend. I can't tell you. But I can tell you that I will soon have enough to retire. And that is what I plan to do. Mary hit on a gold mine. Smart girl. Japan and Taiwan have an almost inexhaustible market, but I've got to be careful. I only sell by word of mouth. I have a very select clientele, as you can well imagine, and I'll only speak to a new customer upon the recommendation of a trusted and valued old friend.”
“Mary think of this?”
“No. She was against the snuff, but she liked all the rest. She defied me, tried to set some girls loose I had collected for special orders from Japan.
“When she thought it was all for fun, when it was just fuck-for-money movies, she procured for me. You'd be surprised how many little tourist girls are willing to take their clothes off for five hundred dollars or free dope, especially if there's a beautiful young girl doing the selling. They felt safe. When it got rough, Mary didn't care. We'd calm them down afterward and convince them it was all fun and games.
“But Mary didn't like the idea of killing the girls. I think she had a soft spot somewhere inside of her, although I hadn't seen that before.
“It got so she threatened to take me to the authorities. She actually got away from me once and tried to hide out in the cane fields. Nearly succeeded, but my people found her and brought her back. Then I got tired of arguing with her and arranged for her own film. That one has a price of a hundred thousand. She was a trophy, natural blonde, admiral's daughter, and all that. And she was one beautiful woman. A lot of spunk. Had to give her a sedative to get her to cooperate, and then wait until it wore off before we could do the movie. She fought me all the way. It was wonderful. Would you like to see it?”

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