As Lantz was desperately trying to think of a clever gambit, Neusa mumbled, “Wanna fuck?”
He grinned in relief. “That’s a great idea, baby.”
“Come on ‘n the bedroom.”
She was stumbling as Lantz followed her into the small bedroom. It contained one closet with the door ajar, a large unmade bed, two chairs, and a bureau with a cracked mirror above it. It was the closet that caught Harry Lantz’s attention. In it he glimpsed a row of men’s suits hanging on a rack.
Neusa was at the side of the bed, fumbling with the buttons on her blouse. Under ordinary circumstances, Harry Lantz would have been at her side, undressing her, caressing her body and murmuring exciting indecencies into her ear. But the sight of Muñez sickened him. He stood there watching as her skirt dropped to the floor. She was wearing nothing under it. Naked, she was uglier than when dressed. Her huge breasts sagged, and her protruding stomach shook like jelly as she moved. Her fat thighs were a mass of cellulite. She’s the grossest thing I’ve ever seen, Lantz thought. Think positively, Lantz told himself. This will be over in a few minutes. The million bucks will last forever.
Slowly, he forced himself to get undressed. She was propped up in bed like a leviathan, waiting for him, and he crawled in beside her.
“What do you like?” he asked.
“Huh? Choc’late. I like choc’late.”
She was drunker than he had thought. That’s good. It will make things easier. He began to caress her flabby, fish-white body. “You’re a very pretty woman, hon. You know that?”
“Yeah?”
“I like you a lot, Neusa.” His hands moved down toward the hairy mound between her fat legs, and he began to make small, titillating circles. “I’ll bet you live an exciting life.”
“Huh?”
“I mean—being Angel’s girl friend. That must be really interesting. Tell me, baby, what’s Angel like?”
There was a silence, and he wondered if Neusa had fallen asleep. He inserted his fingers in the soft, damp cleft between her legs, and felt her stir.
“Don’t go to sleep, sweetheart. Not yet. What kind of man is Angel? Is he handsome?”
“Rich. Angel, he’s rich.”
Lantz’s hand continued its work. “Is he good to you?”
“Yeah. Angel’s good t’ me.”
“I’m going to be good to you too, baby.” His voice was soft. His problem was that everything was soft. What he needed was a million-dollar erection. He started thinking about the Dolly sisters and some of the things they had done to him. He visualized them working on his naked body with their tongues and fingers and nipples, and his penis began to grow hard. He quickly rolled over on top of Neusa and inserted himself into her. God, it’s like sticking it in a fucking pudding, Harry Lantz thought. “Does that feel good?”
“Ess okay, I guess.”
He could have strangled her. There were dozens of beautiful women around the world who were thrilled by his lovemaking, and this fat bitch was saying, Ess okay, I guess.
He began moving his hips back and forth. “Tell me about Angel. Who are his friends?”
Her voice was drowsy. “Angel got no frens. I’m his fren.”
“Of course you are, babe. Does Angel live here with you, or does he have his own place?”
Neusa closed her eyes. “Hey, I’m sleepy. When you gonna come?”
Never, he thought. Not with this cow. “I already came,” Lantz lied.
“Then le’s go to sleep.”
He rolled off her and lay at her side, fuming. Why couldn’t Angel have had a normal mistress? Someone young and beautiful and hot-blooded. Then he would have had no trouble getting the information he needed. But this stupid bitch—! Still…there were other ways.
Lantz lay there quietly for a long time, until he was certain Neusa was asleep. Then he carefully arose from the bed and padded over to the closet. He switched the closet light on and closed the door so the light would not awaken the snoring behemoth.
There were a dozen suits and sports outfits hanging on the rack, and six pairs of men’s shoes on the floor. Lantz opened the jackets and examined the labels. The suits were all custom-made by Herrera, Avenida la Plata. The shoes were made by Vill. I’ve hit the jackpot! Lantz gloated. They’ll have a record of Angel’s address. I’ll go to the shop first thing in the morning and ask a few questions. A warning sounded in his mind. No. No questions. He had to be more clever than that. He was, after all, dealing with a world-class assassin. It would be safer to let Neusa lead him to Angel. Then all I have to do is tip off my friends in the Mossad and collect the reward. I’ll show Ned Tillingast and the rest of the fucking CIA bunch that old Harry Lantz hasn’t lost his touch. All the bright boys have been chasing their asses trying to find Angel, and I’m the only one smart enough to pull it off.