THEIR AIRPLANE LANDED AS DARKNESS fell. Ross walked with Tex through customs, then they shook hands.
“Your tickets,” Tex said, “for the Canary Islands will be waiting for you tomorrow morning. Aero Travel Agency.”
“Good,” Ross said.
“I’d be careful tonight,” Tex said.
“I will.”
“Good luck, then.”
“Thanks,” Ross said.
With a casual wave, Tex left him. Ross caught a taxi.
“Where have you been?” She rolled over in the darkness. “I’ve been worried.”
“Paris,” he said.
“If you’re not going to be serious—”
“Paris. Really.”
She sat up in bed. “Paris? There and back?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t have any choice. I’m surrounded by lunatics these days.”
He told her the story briefly and told her about the tickets.
“We’re getting out,” he said.
She smiled in the darkness. “I’m glad,” she said.
He finished undressing and lay down beside her. She put her head on his shoulder. He felt dampness.
“What’s the matter?”
“I was worried. I really was.”
He stroked her hair. “It’s all right.”
“You shouldn’t do things like that to me.”
He laughed. “I didn’t know you cared.”
“You know it now.”
“Yes,” he said, “I guess I do.”
She was silent for a moment, then said, “Anything could have happened. You’re such an innocent guy.”
“Me? Innocent?”
“Yes. You.”
“No, I’m tough and wicked. Hardened, world-weary …”
“Stop it” She kissed him. He tasted salt.
He felt her body move up against him, soft and sleepy-warm. She locked her legs around him.
“Want to laugh?” he said.
“No,” she said, her voice soft “I want to cry.”
Later, she smoked a cigarette and said, “I know why I missed you.”
“It’s just sex. That’s all we have between us,” Ross said cheerfully.
“It is, right now. And you’d better tell it to behave.”
“It has a mind of its own.”
“You must be exhausted,” she said.
“No,” he said.
“You’re a fool,” she said, touching him.
“Yes,” he said.
“You’re an innocent.”
“Yes.”
“You’re so strong.”
“Yes.”
“I love you,” she said.
“Yes,” he said.
The morning was bright, sunny, and cheerful. They had breakfast in the room and joked as they packed their bags. Angela talked excitedly of the Canary Islands; she had never been; she was eager to see them; she had heard the beaches were black sand and marvelous.
An hour before the flight, Ross called down to the desk for a porter to take their bags. Five minutes passed and there was a knock on the door. Angela was in the bathroom, combing her hair.
“That must be the porter,” she called.
Ross opened the door.
A man walked into the room, a small, thin, dark-skinned man, looking very pale.
“You are Ross,” he said. He was very short of breath. He leaned against the door.
“Yes,” Ross said.
“I must talk to you. I am … I am … Hamid …”
“What do you want?” The man seemed to be in pain, great pain. He was gasping for breath and grimacing.
“You are the only one I can trust. You must listen. It went according to plan. Everything. I was driving … on the road to Malaga … and then I knew I was followed. So I hid it. Both of them. And now …”
“Hid what?”
“You must listen,” he said. “There is no time. I stole the body and hid them. One is near the Washington Irving, twenty paces east. The other is near the lions, down low, by the water. Listen …”
He coughed, a long, hacking cough.
“Are you all right?”
“Yes, Doctor. Listen … remember carefully: Washington Irving, and the lions. Remember. One is real, and the other—”
He stopped, shuddered twice, and coughed blood. Then he seemed to suffer a great and final pain. He toppled forward onto the floor. The door he had been leaning against was covered with blood.
Ross looked down at the man’s back. It had been cut and shredded, gouged deep, the flesh and bones exposed. He turned the man over and stared at the lifeless face.
Angela came out, and screamed.
He felt for a pulse and found none. And he remembered lifting an eyelid and seeing that the eye did not move; it was rolled backward.
Angela was still screaming. She screamed for a very long time.