Neither of them looked at him. The blonde squeezed lotion into her left hand and massaged the swelling tops of the brunette’s large breasts. Her fingers trailed under the bikini bra, flicked across the hidden nipples.
Salsbury felt like a fool-as he always had around beautiful women. He was certain that they were making fun of him. You stinking bitches! he thought viciously. Some day I’ll have any of you I want. Some day I’ll tell you what I want, and you’ll do it, and you’ll love it because I’ll tell you to love it.
Klinger returned, carrying one large suitcase. He had put on a two-hundred-dollar, blue-and-gray-plaid sport coat.
Looks like a gorilla dressed up for a circus act, Salsbury thought.
In the passengers’ compartment of the helicopter, as they lifted away from the roof, Klinger pressed his face to the window and watched the girls dwindle into sexless specks. Then he sighed and sat back and said, “Your boss knows how to arrange a man’s vacation.”
Salsbury blinked in confusion. “My boss?”
Glancing at him, Klinger said, “Dawson.” He took a packet of cheroots from an inside coat pocket. He fished one out and lit it for himself without offering one to Salsbury. “What did you think of Crystal and Daisy?”
Salsbury took off his sunglasses. “What?”
“Crystal and Daisy. The girls at the pool.”
“Nice. Very nice.”
Pausing for a long drag of his cheroot, Klinger blew out smoke and said, “You wouldn’t believe what those girls can do.”
“I thought they were dancers,” Salsbury said.
Klinger looked at him disbelievingly, and then threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, they are! They dance their little asses off every night in the Fortunata’s main showroom. But they’ve also been performing in the penthouse suite. And let me tell you, dancing is the least of their talents.”
Salsbury was perspiring even though the cabin of the Jet-Ranger was cool. Women . . . He feared them-and wanted them desperately. To Dawson, mind control meant unlimited wealth, a financial stranglehold on the entire world. To Klinger it might mean unrestricted power, the satisfaction of unquestioned command. But to Salsbury, it meant having sex as often as he wanted it, in as many ways as he wanted it, with any woman he desired.
Blowing smoke at the cabin ceiling, Klinger said, “I’ll bet you’d like having those two in your bed, shoving it in them, one after the other. Would you like that?”
“Who wouldn’t?”
“They’re hard on a man,” Klinger said, chuckling. “Takes a man with real stamina to keep them happy. You think you could handle both Crystal and Daisy?”
“I could give it a good try.”
Klinger laughed loudly.
Salsbury hated him for that.
This crude bastard was nothing more than an influence peddler, Ogden thought. He could be bought-and his price was cheap. In one way or another, he helped Futurex International in its competitive bidding for Pentagon contracts. In return, he took free vacations in Las Vegas, and some sort of stipend was paid into a Swiss bank account. There was only one element of this arrangement that Salsbury was unable to reconcile with Leonard Dawson’s personal philosophy. He said to Klinger:
“Does Leonard pay for the girls too?”
“Well, I don’t. I’ve never had to pay for it.” He stared hard at Salsbury, until he was convinced that the scientist believed him. “The hotel picks up the tab. That’s one of Futurex’s subsidiaries. But both Leonard and I pretend he doesn’t know about the girls. Whenever he asks me how I enjoyed a vacation, he acts as if all I’ve done is sit around the pool, by myself, reading the latest books.” He was amused. He sucked on his cheroot. “Leonard is a Puritan, but he knows better than to let his personal feelings interfere with business.” He shook his head. “Your boss is some man.”
“He’s not my boss,” Salsbury said.
Klinger didn’t seem to have heard him.
“Leonard and I are partners,” Salsbury said. Klinger looked him up and down. “Partners.” “That’s right.”
Their eyes met.
Reluctantly, after a few seconds, Salsbury looked away.
“Partners,” Klinger said. He didn’t believe it.
We are partners, Salsbury thought. Dawson may own this helicopter, the Fortunata Hotel, Crystal, Daisy, and you. But he doesn’t own me, and he never will. Never.