CHAPTER ONE

 

Carmen Cruelta sat staring into her glass of white wine, conscious of the tension in her body and the deep smouldering anger that was rising up her mind - anger strangely commingled with relief. She had seen the grossly fat figure in white doeskin suit and light-coloured straw-plaited hat, the small, delicate feet encased in two-tone shoes who was edging his cumbrous way between the small tables with a smiling apology for the ponderous, pendulous belly which caused people to duck down or twist aside to avoid it. Odd how Char had always stuck to two-tone shoes - 'brothel-creepers' he called them, and had once more come back to the peak of fashion!

How the hell had he found her? Was it coincidence? Had he just happened to be strolling along that Paris boulevard at that particular moment in time? And, out of all the teeming thousands, why had he noticed HER? Or was there more to it? She felt humiliated - and anger and resentment boiled inside her, making her stomach sour. Without looking up, she knew Char had sat down, because the slender metal legs of the chair opposite spread widely, squeaking against the tiles. The table rocked slightly as that huge belly rested against it.

Without raising her eyes, Carmen Cruelta asked, harshly, "What the hell do you want, you fat pervert?"

The table shook gently as a laugh rumbled from the depths of that gross body. Carmen raised her eyes to look at Char, feeling relief at the sight of his strong, ruthless, crafty face which never seemed to age. He had the face of a plump, bubbly baby, on the body of a fat man in his fifties. He always looked faintly yellow, as though he had only recently been afflicted with jaundice, and his narrow, uptilted Oriental eyes seemed out of place in his round, Occidental countenance. He smiled at her, ironically, and she glared back at him.

"How did you find me?" she demanded.

The soft, gracious, cultured voice seemed to come from the depths of a mine. "Believe me, my dear Carmen, I have not had a dozen agents out searching for you! I found you in the simplest way possible - as a lazy man like me always would! I enquired at your bank in Angola!"

Carmen flushed. "And they told you where I was staying?"

Char smiled. "i am a very good customer," he said, emphasising the 'I' so that it implied, 'I, at least!' "I came here to Paris, and once again, I enquired at your hotel. The hall-porter told me you always come here for your aperitif before lunch."

Carmen's gaze fell again, to the solitary, very small glass of wine. There was no bottle or carafe to be seen; nothing but one small half-empty glass of 'ordinaire' at ten sous the glass! A white paper fluttered down to rest on the table beside her. It fell flat, so that Carmen could see it was her hotel bill, receipted that very morning. Her body twisted again as she felt another surge of anger.

"An empty bank account; an unpaid hotel bill - and a small glass of blanc! My dear, what have you done with all the money?"

"Spent!" Carmen did not look up, but her cheeks reddened again.

"All gone! A million and a half beautiful American dollars! All spent on those fascinating, beautiful, greedy little girls of yours, I'll be bound! - And where are they all now?" His voice was like a whip-crack. "Gone off to better ground, I'll bet, leaving you to pick up the tab. By God, Carmen, you are such a fool!"

"And you're so damned smart, I suppose?"

Carmen stared up at Karl's taunting face savagely. "Well, let's put it this way, my dear. My share of the profits from The Hell Fire Club was just over two million dollars - and I have paid your hotel bill. I am still rich - and you, my dear, are broke!"

Carmen met Karl's quizzical, amused stare.

"You know, I'd tell you to fuck off - if I didn't think that would be a biological impossibility!"

Karl's lips twitched as a brief smile passed over his face, and Carmen was unable to resist his good nature. Char was a snake; there was no other word for it, although his appearance was anything but serpentine! Yet for all that, he was a very good-natured snake where Carmen was concerned. He had put her in the way of making vast sums of money with relatively little effort, and had never complained that as soon as she had it safely in the bank she had always taken off into the blue to indulge her lesbian tendencies.

Now she was down on her luck; couldn't be further down. She had, literally just ten sous in her purse to pay for the wine. When she had drunk it, she had intended to walk down to the banks of the Seine at a quiet spot and just slip down into the water. And now here was Char again, like a 'god out of the machine' - like a very snaky, sneaky god - to save her.

That's better!" said Char, responding gaily to Carmen's faint smile. He snapped his fingers and when the waiter came running - even the surliest of waiters always came running to Char - he ordered a bottle of fine champagne. When the wine was brought, poured, tasted and approved he said:

"Now, when I arrived you asked me what I wanted. I want YOU, my dear." His slant eyes flickered with amusement. "Of course, you appreciate that I do not want you in quite the same way I might if I were twenty years younger and about two hundred pounds lighter! But I need you, Carmen, all the same! The truth is, that I'm itching!"

Carmen raised one eyebrow. She realised that Char was not actually itching, physically. If he had been, he would most certainly have scratched, no matter where the itch was! He was not one to suffer in silence!

"I'm on fire, my dear, with a new idea!"

And at that, all Carmen's resentment flowed away. She smiled at Char, openly for the first time and met his gaze without resentment or anger. He raised his glass to her; they clinked glasses and drank deep. Char reached out a hand for the bottle, but the waiter, ignoring the impassioned pleas of other customers for service, grabbed the bottle first and poured, with elan.

"What's the new idea?" asked Carmen. "Is it good?"

Char rolled his eyes to heaven as if in protest. "Ungrateful child! I tell you that Char has had an idea, and you ask me, "Is it good?" Have you ever known me have an idea that wasn't good?"

Carmen had to admit she had not. "Tell me about it," she urged.

Char turned on her solemn eyes. "I do hope you haven't blotted your copy-book since I last saw you," he said, severely.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that I hope you haven't done anything, for instance, to make it difficult for you to get a United States Visa?"

Carmen smiled with relief. "No. That's O.K. In fact, I had a three-month tourist visa that has only just expired. I may be a fool, Char; but not in that way!"

"Good! Then when we have finished this excellent bottle, you shall trot along to the American Embassy and get yourself another three-month visa. That ought to be long enough."

"Long enough for what?" demanded Carmen, beginning to get irritable at Karl's air of mystery.

"Long enough, my dear, for us to go to Las Vegas and find out all about the lovely gambling which goes on there!"

"Las Vegas?"

"Where better to examine and investigate gambling?"

But surely you're not going to get involved with gambling?"

"That is where you are wrong! Not only am I going to get 'involved' in gambling, as you put it; but so are you!"

Carmen's face was sour. "And what do I use for chips? Peanuts?"

Karl's belly wobbled like a jelly, so that a little wine slopped over the rim of his glass. "No, my dear, dear; not peanuts! Bodies!"

"Bodies? Oh hell, Char, I'm lost. For Pete's sake ..."

"Bodies!" he repeated. "Beautiful, slender boys' bodies with hard, muscular buttocks and flat bellies, and long, strong, yearning and eager pricks rising up proud above balls as big as apples! Tender, rounded girls' bodies, with smooth shoulders, pert breasts like ripe pomegranates, a curve to the waist and thigh to stop the breath in your throat, long, delicious legs meeting at sweet, ripe cunts! That's what you'll use for chips! And with stakes like that, Carmen, we shall start on a winning streak and go on to make the killing of all time! We can't lose! We shall be the only gamblers in history to make that proud boast and not live to regret it!"