My Brother's Keeper (28 page)

I let my head fall back on the pillow. Too much excitement; my head was turning back to a bowl of mush.

"The military implications may be biggest in the long run," I went on. "But that wasn't the game for Scouse and his buddies. They didn't know that market. They wanted the packages to use in their own business. It would be the biggest thing ever. They went after it—hard. But we beat them to it."

His eyes watched me closely most of the time, but every few seconds they would flick across to the monitors. He moved to look at a silver needle that quivered on its dial.

"How long before I get out of here?" I said.

"Give it a chance, man—I said you were mendin', not recovered." He looked casually off to the side, at the window, and shot the question at me suddenly.

"Who are you?"

"What? Why, I'm—I'm—"
Damn it, man, get the words out.
"I'm Li—Le—Lio—Lionel." My cut tongue struggled with the word. Sir Westcott nodded.

"Exactly. You're Lio-Leo-Lionel, that's who you are. An' that's why you need a few weeks of quiet, puttin' that lot together. What's the main road from San Diego to Los Angeles?"

"I-5." The words came automatically.

"From Glasgow to Edinburgh?"

"The M8."

"Fair enough." He sniffed. "You'll do, but don't get the wrong idea. You have a lot of mending to take care of before we'll let you out of here this time." He frowned down at me, and took another glance at the monitors.

"Mendin', and explainin'. I'll be back in here later, to sit guard when the lads from the Foreign Office come in to talk about the Belur Package. I'm as interested in the details as they are—be a dirty old man myself in a few years, if I get the chance." He moved across to me and lifted my hand. "For the moment, I think you need a bit of this before you're ready to explain any more."

The needle went into my left arm so smoothly and quickly that I had no time to resist. Ten seconds of protest, then I felt the urge to close my eyes for a moment. When I opened them again he was gone. A familiar white-tunic-clad figure stood by the bedside with her back to me.

"Tess!" I reached out and just managed to touch the back of her thigh.

"Now then!" She turned gracefully, and I had my first look at her face. It was a complete stranger.

"Nurse Thomson told me what you're like—all fingers," she said. "Keep your hands to yourself, or I'll have to tie them up." Her smile took the bite out of her words. While I was still groping for my apology she went to the panel of monitors and did her own quick review of the battery of gauges, fluid sacs, and dial readings. I saw our reflection in the metal of the machine. I was as pale as the sheets. She saw me looking and shook her auburn head. Plump, placid face, dazzling smile, sexy body—and even in my drugged condition I could see she didn't look at all like Tess.

She moved to the bedside. "You know, you're supposed to be sleeping. Sir Westcott was right. You have quite a constitution. When they brought you in here I didn't expect you to last the night. What have you been doing to yourself?"

"To myself. Not a thing. It was done to me."

"I'll bet. Some day I want to hear all the gory details. Not now, though. You're supposed to be resting. But I'll tell Tess you've recovered enough to have roving hands."

She headed for the door, then turned back to me.

"Did anybody give you your phone message? He rang earlier, when you were still unconscious."

"No. Who did?"

"I don't know. He didn't give his full name. Just asked how you were, and to tell you that Thomas called."

"Thomas? I don't know anybody called Thomas." Scrabbling around for names hurt my head. Good constitution or not, something wasn't right inside there.

"Well, he knows you. He wanted me to tell you that you've not seen the last of him. He said, give him a few months, then look out for his Godowsky."

Thomas. Thomas? Godowsky? A faint memory.
"Thomas, the Good Lord God has given you a talent . . ."
It was true enough, in spite of the cynical way that Pudd'n had said it. "You've not seen the last of him"? With Zan alive, that could mean anything.

My face must have mirrored my feelings, because the nurse came back into the room and peered at me anxiously.

"Are you feeling all right? Everything shows fine on the monitors."

"I'm all right. But—did he make any threats?"

"Threats?" She giggled. "Of course he didn't—he sounded real nice. He said he was the one who sent the police into the Zoo to get you out of there. If he hadn't done that you'd probably be dead by now. He helped you, he didn't threaten you."

Good old Pudd'n. So he had repaid the favor. Cast bread on the waters, and sometimes you get back a whole loaf. "Did he say anything else?"

She frowned. "Only that thing looking out for his Godowsky. What's a Godowsky?"

"A dead pianist. It's all right, I know what he means; and you're quite right, he wasn't threatening me."

She nodded formally. "All right. I'll be back in a little while. Tess comes on at four. I'll tell her you're having a sleep now."

I was left for a while with my own drugged thoughts . . .

. . . of Tess, bringing me carefully back from death's doorstep, mending my mind as much as my body . . . if it hadn't been for her, I might never have left this place to go off to India, to Calcutta, to Ameera, to my child bride who wanted to bear Leo's baby . . . if Sir Westcott had done his surgery well, the chances of that ought to be exactly fifty-fifty. . . .

. . . of Ameera's courage when we had been captured in the house in Cuttack . . . of her look at me, totally calm and trusting, convinced that I would get us safely out and back home . . . back to the hideaway, the secret shelter from the whole world . . .

. . . of Zan, the red lips parted above the white rose . . . the flush of heat on olive cheeks, lust and cruelty alight in amber eyes . . . she was moving towards me, silk dress tight across broad, swaying hips . . .

I woke up sweating, full of a perverse excitement. A month ago I had worried about my future. That was a problem no longer—I knew what I had to do, where I must go.

I opened my eyes. Ameera and Tess were standing by the monitors, talking to each other in whispers. Their words were lost in the soft click and mutter of the medical equipment. They were talking about me; I was convinced of it. Now for the thunder and lightning. I wanted to cringe, but instead forced myself to lift my head.

"Er—I'm—er—I didn't mean to—er—ah . . ." I said intelligently.

They moved together to my bedside. Ameera leaned forward and ran her fingers lightly over my face. Tess took my right hand—the other one was no more than a mass of bandages—in both of hers. I couldn't believe my eyes.

They were both grinning like thieves.

"How are you feeling?" said Tess softly.

"Well, I'm—er—I suppose that I'm . . . are you two—I mean . . ." I mumbled .

Ameera didn't speak, but she stooped over and kissed me gently on the lips. "We were both being so worried about you," she said. Tess nodded, then in turn bent to give me a kiss.

I closed my eyes. In a few seconds I would open them again and wake up, but meanwhile I wanted to enjoy the moment—and sort out my plans. Somehow I had to make my peace with Tess and Ameera and explain to them how fond I was of both of them. But before I did that . . .

Other urgencies intruded. As soon as I could be up and about, I must trace Pudd'n—I had a few ideas on that already. If anyone could help me and lead me to Zan, he could. The business wasn't finished. Zan was alive and active, Mansouri still at large. Even with Scouse gone the crooked ring was unbroken.

The old quivering excitement was building in me. The highest form of living, the hunt, the chase. I would face Zan again, move into and through the jaws of danger.

Damn you, Big Brother. What about the quiet life?
 

**
Not yet, Little Brother. Not yet.
**

I opened my eyes again and looked up at Tess and Ameera. They were smiling down at me, waiting to hear how I was feeling. Wonderful women, marvelous women. Someday, might I find peace and happiness with one of them? **
Not yet. Not yet. After the hunt is over.
**

I sighed, fought back a shiver of anticipation (or fear), and forced a smile.

"I'm feeling fine," I said. "How long before they let me out of here?"