Part 60 (1/2)
We made it.'*
They leaped to their feet, peering, listening, sniffing. The night was impenetrable, but they heard the soft sigh of night winds, and the sweet scent of green growing things came to their nostrils. Far in the distance a dog barked.
”My G.o.d, Gully,” Jisbella whispered incredulously. ”You're right. We're out of Gouffre Martel. All we have to do is wait for dawn.”
She laughed. She flung her arms about him and kissed him, and he returned the embrace. They babbled excitedly. They sank down on the soft gra.s.s again, weary, but unable to rest, eager, impatient, all life before them.
”h.e.l.lo, Gully, darling Gully. h.e.l.lo Gully, after all this time.”
”h.e.l.lo, Jiz.”
”I told you we'd meet some day... some day soon. I told you, darling. And this is the day.”
”The night.”
”The night, so it is. But no more murmuring in the night along the Whisper Line. No more night for us, Gully, dear.”
Suddenly they became aware that they were nude, lying close, no longer separated. Jisbella fell silent but did not move. He clasped her, almost angrily, and enveloped her with a desire that was no less than hers.
When dawn came, he saw that she was lovely: long and lean with smoky red hair and a generous mouth.
But when dawn came, she saw his face.
CHAPTER SIX.
HARLEY BAKER, M.D., had a small general practice in Montana-Oregon which was legitimate and barely paid for the diesel oil he consumed each weekend partic.i.p.ating in the rallies for vintage tractors which were the vogue in Sahara. His real income was earned in his Freak Factory in Trenton to which Baker jaunted every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday night. There, for enormous fees and no questions asked, Baker created monstrosities for the entertainment business and refas.h.i.+oned skin, muscle, and bone for the underworld.
Looking like a male midwife, Baker sat on the cool veranda of his Spokane mansion listening to j.i.z. McQueen finish the story of her escape.
”Once we hit the open country outside Gouffre Martel it was easy. We found a shooting lodge, broke in, and got some clothes. There were guns there too... lovely old steel things for killing with explosives. Wetook them and sold them to some locals. Then we bought rides to the nearest jaunte stage we had memorized.”
”Which?”
”Biarritz.”
”Traveled by night, eh?”
”Naturally.”
”Do anything about Foyle's face?”
”We tried makeup but that didn't work. The d.a.m.ned tattooing showed through. Then I bought a dark skin-surrogate and sprayed it on.”
”Did that do it?”
”No,” j.i.z. said angrily. ”You have to keep your face quiet or else the surrogate cracks and peels. Foyle couldn't control himself. He never can. It was h.e.l.l.”
”Where is he now?”
”Sam Quatt's got him in tow.”
”I thought Sam retired from the rackets.”
”He did,” Jisbella said grimly, ”But he owes me a favor. He's minding Foyle. They're circulating on the jaunte to stay ahead of the cops.”
”Interesting,” Baker murmured. ”Haven't seen a tattoo case in all my life. Thought it was a dead art. I'd like to add him to my collection. You know I collect curios, Jiz?”
”Everybody knows that zoo of yours in Trenton, Baker. It's ghastly.”
”I picked up a genuine fraternal cyst last month,” Baker began enthusiastically.
”I don't want to hear about it,” j.i.z. snapped. ”And I don't want Foyle in your zoo. Can you get the muck off his face? Clean it up? He says they were stymied at General Hospital.”
”They haven't had my experience, dear. Hmm. I seem to remember reading something once...
somewhere... Now where did I-? Wait a minute.” Baker stood up and disappeared with a faint pop.
Jisbella paced the veranda furiously until he reappeared twenty minutes later with a tattered book in his hands and a triumphant expression on his face.
”Got it,” Baker said. ”Saw it in the Caltech stacks three years ago. You may admire my memory.”
”To h.e.l.l with your memory. What about his face?”
”It can be done.” Baker flipped the fragile pages and meditated. ”Yes, it can be done. Indigotin disulphonic acid. I may have to synthesize the acid but...” Baker closed the text and nodded emphatically. ”I can do it. Only it seems a pity to tamper with that face if it's as unique as you describe.”
”Will you get off your hobby,” Jisbella exclaimed in exasperation. ”We're hot, understand? The first that ever broke out of Gouffre Martel. The cops won't rest until they've got us back. This is extra-special forthem.”
”But-”
”How long d'you think we can stay out of Gouffre Martel with Foyle running around with that tattooed face?”
”What are you so angry about?”
”I'm not angry. I'm explaining.”
”He'd be happy in the zoo,” Baker said persuasively. ”And he'd be under cover there. I'd put him in the room next to the cyclops girl-”
”The zoo is out. That's definite.”
”All right, dear. But why are you worried about Foyle being recaptured? It won't have anything to do with you.”
”Why should you worry about me worrying? I'm asking you to do a job. I'm paying for the job.”
”It'll be expensive, dear, and I'm fond of you. I'm trying to save you money.”
”No you're not.”