The Ugly Duckling (19 page)

She nodded at the short, powerfully built sergeant.

Wilkins said, “A baby could have crawled up that wall. It ain’t nothing next to the swamps.” He turned and strode away from her.

“Better catch up,” Randall said genially. “And if I were you, I’d bandage those hands. All kind of fungus and germs live in the swamp. We sure wouldn’t want you to catch anything, little lady.”

For the first time, she became aware that her palms were torn and bleeding. The wounds didn’t bother her nearly as much as that patronizing nickname. “I try to be a lady, but I’m
not
little.” She set off after Wilkins.

S
ilence fell on the barracks when she followed Wilkins into the long room an hour later.

“That’s your bunk.” The sergeant gestured to a cot beneath one of the screened windows. “While you’re here.”

He turned and left.

She tried to ignore the men in the room as she dumped the clothes and gear down on the cot.
Tried
was the operative word. She could feel their eyes on her as if they were brands. What was she doing here? she wondered desperately. This was crazy. There had to be some other way to accomplish what had to be done.

Ignore them. There might be other ways, but nothing
as quick as the one she had chosen. She had made a plan and must keep to it.

She sorted out the clothes and then turned to the M16 and pistol Wilkins had issued her. Wasn’t she supposed to clean them or something? All the war movies she had ever seen had a scene where some poor slob was punished for not cleaning his rifle.

“Can I help you?”

She stiffened and turned around.

Why, he was only a kid. A gangly boy, not over seventeen. Freckles bridged his hooked nose, and he was smiling tentatively, almost shyly.

“I’m Peter Drake.” He sat down on her cot. “I was out there watching you climb the wall. I don’t think the colonel liked it when you reached the top. I liked it. I like it when people win.” He smiled with childlike pleasure.

Childlike. As she stared at him she suddenly suspected how apt that term was. Randall must be some kind of fiend to accept a boy like him. “Do you?” she asked gently. “Winning does feel good.”

He frowned. “I couldn’t get up the wall. The sergeant was angry with me. He doesn’t like me.”

“Then why don’t you leave this place?”

“My daddy wants me here. He was a soldier like Colonel Randall. They wouldn’t take me in the regular army. He says this place will make a man of me.”

She felt sick.

“And what does your mother say?”

“She’s not there anymore,” he said vaguely. “I’m from Selena, Mississippi. Where did you come from?”

“North Carolina. You don’t sound as if you’re from the South.”

“I don’t stay there much. He sends me away to schools.” He began toying with the strap of her backpack.
“I don’t think the colonel likes you either. Why?”

“Because I’m a woman.” She grimaced. “And because I made it up the wall.”

He gazed around the barracks. “Some of these men don’t like you either. Colonel Randall came here a few minutes ago and told them it was all right with him if they hurt you.”

It was no more than she expected.

He smiled. “But I’ll help you. I’m not very smart, but I’m strong.”

“Thank you, but I can manage by myself.”

His face clouded. “Maybe you think I’m not strong enough because I couldn’t get up the wall?”

“That’s not it. I’m sure you’re strong enough to do anything you want to do.” He was still staring at her with that hurt expression. She could not involve this boy in her struggles, but she felt as if she had kicked a puppy. “Perhaps you could help me by telling me about the men here. That would help a lot.”

“I don’t know. They don’t talk to me much.”

“Which ones do you think might hurt me?”

He nodded at once at a heavyset, balding man four bunks down. “Scott. He’s pretty mean. He’s the one who calls me Dummy.”

“Anyone else?”

“Sanchez.” He glanced uneasily at a small, wiry Latino who was staring at them with an unpleasant smile, and then nodded at a sandy-haired man in his twenties. “Blumberg. They started to touch me in the shower, but they stopped when Scott came.”

“Scott stopped them?”

“No, but they didn’t want him to know.” He swallowed. “They said … later.”

If they were homosexuals, she might not have to worry about Sanchez and Blumberg. No, rape was a
crime of violence, not passion, and they had been willing to victimize a helpless boy. “I think you should leave here, Peter.”

He shook his head. “Daddy wouldn’t like it. He says I’m too soft. He said I needed to learn to take it.”

Take rape and abuse? He must have known what Peter would face in this macho hellhole. She smothered a flare of anger. She could do nothing now to help Peter. She might not even be able to help herself. “Your daddy is wrong. This is no place for you. Go home.”

“He’d only send me back.” He added simply, “He doesn’t want me there.”

Dammit. She didn’t need this. She didn’t want to feel this melting pity. She stared at him in helpless frustration before turning away. “Do you know anything about guns?”

He brightened. “They taught us about the rifle the first day. We have target practice every morning.”

“What about the pistol?”

“A little. I know how it’s put together and how to load it.”

She sat down on the bed beside him. “Show me.”

“H
ave you heard from her?” Tanek asked as soon as Tania picked up the phone.

“Not a word. She’s not in Seattle?”

“No, and Phil says she’s not in Denver either. We guessed wrong.”

“You think she may be in Florida?”

“I don’t know.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe she was laying another false trail. She could be anywhere.”

“What are you going to do?”

“What else? I’m catching a plane for Florida in thirty
minutes. I should be at Obanako by midmorning. I’m sending Phil back to your place in case she shows up there.”

“That’s not necessary. I’ll be here.”

“It’s necessary,” he said grimly. “When she surfaces, she’s not going anywhere until I talk to her.”

T
hey were coming.

Nell’s muscles locked beneath the blanket as she heard the stirring in the darkness. She had been waiting for this moment for hours.

They weren’t trying to be quiet about it. Why should they? No one would come to help her.

Except Peter. Stay asleep, Peter. Don’t let them hurt you.

They were closer. Four shapes in the darkness. Who was the fourth man? It didn’t matter. They were all the enemy.

“Turn on the lights. I want to see her face when I ram it into her.”

Light.

Scott. Sanchez. Blumberg. The fourth man was older, with a nondescript face and thinning hair.

“She’s awake. Look, boys, she’s been waiting for us.” Scott stepped closer. “We don’t like dykes who show us up, do we?”

“Go away.”

“We can’t do that. We want to show you how well we can climb. I figure we’ll climb off and on you so many times, you’ll be bowlegged by morning.” He moistened his lips. “Now, be real quiet and do what we tell you. We don’t like women dressed up like soldiers. It kind of turns us off. Strip.”

“Leave her alone,” Peter said.

He was sitting on the edge of his bunk, looking more
fragile and gawky than before in his khaki undershirt and shorts.

“Shut up, Dummy,” Scott said without looking at him.

“You shouldn’t hurt her. She didn’t do anything to hurt you.”

“It’s up to her if she gets hurt. All she has to do is what we tell her and she’ll have a real good time,” Sanchez said.

“Go
away
,” Nell repeated.

Peter was beside her bed. “Don’t hurt her.”

He was afraid, she realized. She could see the muscle jerking in his cheek, the slight tremor of his hands. “Go back to bed, Peter.”

“Maybe Dummy wants to dip his wick too,” Scott said. “Naw, he’s not man enough.”

“You think it makes you more of a man to rape a woman?” she asked.

“You’ll see.” He reached down and jerked the blanket off her.

She lifted the pistol she’d been cradling and pointed it at his crotch. “I only see that you’ll no longer have a penis if you don’t leave me alone.”

He took an instinctive step back. “Shit.”

“We’ll rush her,” Sanchez said. “We’ll take that gun away from her and stuff it in her cunt.”

“Yes, you could rush me,” Nell said, trying to keep her voice steady. “Why don’t you, Scott? I might not be able to shoot all of you. Of course, the first shot would make a eunuch of you and the second would be for Sanchez. After that I’d be in a hurry and have to aim for a broader target, like a stomach or chest.”

“She won’t do it,” Blumberg said. “It would be murder.”

“And murder is so much worse than rape.” Nell’s hand tightened on the gun. “I don’t think so.”

“They’d put you away and throw away the key.”

“They’d try.” She met his gaze and then looked at each man in turn. “But I’d do it. I won’t be hurt or stopped. You’re getting in my way and I can’t allow that to happen. Touch me and I’ll blow you away.” Oh God, she sounded just like a grade-B movie.

Scott’s eyes widened. He whispered, “You’re fucking crazy.”

“Possibly.”

He backed away from her.

“You’re going to let her buffalo you?” Sanchez said.

“She’s not aiming at your dick,” Scott said through his teeth.

“I am now.” Nell shifted the barrel.

Sanchez blinked.

“You said it would be easy,” the fourth man muttered.

“Shut up, Glaser,” Scott said.

“You didn’t tell me she was going to be like this.” Glaser stalked away from the cot.

“We’ll come back later. She can’t stay awake all night.” Scott smiled malevolently at Nell. “Close your eyes and we’ll be on you.”

He reached up and turned out the light.

She inhaled sharply. She suddenly felt alone and vulnerable.

Scott’s voice came out of the darkness. “Took you off guard, didn’t it? You can’t keep up your watch forever. What you going to do once we’re in the swamp? You think Wilkins is gonna care?”

“I doubt if you’re going to be in the mood for rape while we’re wading through the bayou.”

She heard a muttered curse.

They were moving away, she realized with relief. It was too soon to relax, but the immediate danger was
over. She’d been so afraid. She was still afraid, shaking in the darkness.

“I’ll watch out for you,” Peter said.

She had almost forgotten the boy. “No, go to sleep. Tomorrow will be hard. You’ll need your strength.”

“I’ll watch out for you,” he repeated stubbornly. He sat down on the floor beside her cot and crossed his legs.

“Peter, please don’t do—” She broke off. She had no intention of going to sleep herself, but it was clear she couldn’t convince him. Oh, well, it would only be a few hours until dawn.

“I was scared,” Peter said suddenly.

“So was I.”

“You didn’t show it.”

“Neither did you,” she lied.

“I didn’t?” He sounded pleased. “I thought Scott might know. He’s like my daddy. He knows things like that.”

“And your father tells you that he knows them?”

“Sure. He says a man has to face his faults. He said he’d never have become mayor of Selena if he hadn’t faced his faults and corrected them.”

She was beginning to detest Peter’s faceless father. “Your father couldn’t have been braver than you were just now. He would have been proud of you.”

There was a silence. “No, he’s never proud of me. I’m not smart.”

The bald simplicity of the response caused pity to wrench through her. “Well, I was proud of you.”

“You were?” he asked eagerly. “I was proud of you too.” He paused. “That means we’re friends, doesn’t it?”

She wanted to push him away. She didn’t want his help or the responsibility he represented. He had allied
himself with her for those bullies to see and might suffer for it later. She didn’t want to bear that guilt.

It was too late. She couldn’t turn him away. “Yes, that’s what it means.”

“And we really showed them, didn’t we?”

She sighed. “We really did.”

“E
ve Billings? I don’t know anyone by that name,” Randall said blandly. “And we don’t accept women here at Obanako, Mr. Tanek.”

Nicholas tossed down on the desk one of the pictures Tania had given him. “She might be using another name.”

“Nice-looking woman.” Randall pushed the photo away. “But I still haven’t seen her.”

“I find that very odd. She rented a car at the Panama City airport.” He flipped open his notebook. “And the license number of the Ford in the parking lot in back of your office is the same.”

Randall’s smile disappeared. “We don’t like people nosing around our camp.”

“I don’t like people lying to me,” Nicholas said softly. “Where is she, Randall?”

“I said she wasn’t here.” Randall gestured expansively. “Look around. You won’t find her.”

“That will be unfortunate … for you.”

Randall rose to his feet. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m telling you that I want her back and that you won’t like the trouble I cause if you don’t produce her.”

“We’re used to trouble here. It’s what we train these men to face.”

“Cut the crap. The authorities in Panama City don’t like you parked on their doorstep, and they’d jump at a chance to close you down for illegal activities.”

“What illegal activities?” he said, outraged. “No one touched her, dammit.”

“Kidnapping.”

“She came to me. Hell, she forced herself on me. She’ll tell you herself.”

“And I’ll tell everyone you kidnapped her and then brainwashed her. It will make a great story for the tabloids.” Nicholas smiled. “What do you think?”

“I think you’re a son of a bitch.” He added sulkily, “Who is she to you? Your wife?”

“Yes,” he lied.

“Then you should keep the bitch home and out of my hair.”

“Tell me where she is and I’ll be glad to take her off your hands.”

Randall was silent and then smiled maliciously. “Why not?” He opened the desk drawer and pulled out a map and unrolled it. “She’s on maneuvers. She wanted to prove how tough she could be. I can’t tell you where she is right now, but she’ll be here at nightfall.” He stabbed his finger at a point on the map. “They always bed down at the same place. Cypress Island. You should be grateful to me. She’s going to be real glad to see you after the day she’ll have.” His smile broadened. “But you may not be so happy to see her after you finish wading through the swamp to get to the island.”