Now Humphries sat back in his bed and waited for the conclusion of this little drama that Diane Verwoerd had brought upon herself. Try to force me to knuckle under to you, will you? Blackmail me? Threaten me? Well, now you’ll get what you deserve, you little slut.
Harbin found her door at last. He hesitated a moment, head swimming, fist poised to rap on the door. And give her a chance to call for help? Give her a chance to hide her latest lover?
He forced the lock on the sliding door easily and stepped inside her shadowy living room. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, then he padded silently to her bedroom door. Something smelled rank, foul, and he realized it was his own body odor. She’s done this to me, he told himself. She’s made me into a pig.
Like Circe, he thought, peering into the shadows to make out her sleeping form on the bed. The enchantress who turns men into swine.
She was alone, he saw. He moved to the night table and switched on the lamp.
Diane awoke slowly, blinked up at him, then smiled.
“Dorik, where have you been? I’ve looked everywhere for you.”
Then she saw the murderous look on his unshaved face. She sat up and let the covers slip to her waist.
“What’s the matter? What’s wrong? You look terrible.”
He stared down at her. How many times had he caressed those breasts? How many other men had shared her body?
“Dorik, what’s happened?”
His voice, when he found it, was little more than a croak. “Are you pregnant?”
The shock on her face was all the answer he needed. “I was going to tell you—”
“With Humphries’ baby?”
“Yes, but–”
She got no farther. He seized her by the throat and pulled her off the bed, squeezing hard with both hands. She flailed her arms pitifully as he throttled her. Her eyes glazed, her tongue bulged out of her gagging mouth. Still crushing her larynx with one hand, Harbin grabbed her protruding tongue with the other, dug his nails into it and pulled it out of her lying mouth. Her shriek of pain drowned in the blood gushing from her mouth. Harbin relaxed his grip on her throat just enough to let her strangle on her own blood, gurgling, moaning, her hands sliding down his arms until her arms hung limp and dead.
Watching from his bed, Humphries felt his guts churn and heave. He lurched to his feet and staggered to the lavatory, Diane’s last bubbling moans lost in his own retching agony. By the time he had wiped his face and stumbled back into his bedroom, the wallscreen showed Harbin on his knees, sobbing inconsolably, Diane lying on the floor beside him, her face spattered with blood, her eyes staring sightlessly.
He ripped her tongue out! Humphries said to himself, gagging again. My god, he’s a monster!
Crawling back into bed, he switched off the camera view and called Grigor, who was waiting patiently in his office.
“Diane Verwoerd’s had a heart attack,” Humphries said to his security chief, struggling to keep his voice even. “A fatal one. Get a reliable crew to her apartment to clean the place up and take care of the body.”
Grigor nodded once. “And Harbin?”
“Get him tranquilized and tucked away in a safe place. Better bring a team. He won’t trank easily.”
“Wouldn’t it be better to silence him?”
Humphries laughed bitterly. “With this hanging over him? He’s silenced, believe it. And he’s still available to do whatever I need him to do.”
“Still . . .”
“I’ll find plenty of work for him, don’t worry,” Humphries said. “Just keep him away from me. I don’t want him in the same room with me, ever again.” He thought a moment, then added, “I don’t want him on the same planet with me.”
CHAPTER 59
Lars Fuchs looked up in surprise when he heard the knock at his door. He shut down the drama he’d been watching— Sophocles’ Antigone—and called out, “Come in.” It was George again, looking grim. Fuchs rose from his chair. “To what do I owe this honor?”