Susie Stockton giggled as she huddled in a secluded corner of the garden with two or three of her friends. In the background the house was a blaze of lights and a swirl of people and chatter, punctuated by raucous laughter, the sounds of splashing and screaming from the pool and the first riffs from the band. The party was humming. A couple of the waiters hired for the occasion were just out of this world and Susie was pleasantly drunk, and about to get increasingly out of her head. Maybe, she giggled to herself, she might make a play for one of them. The Spanish looking guy was just something else.
Her friend Banshee swayed in front of her holding a small bottle over a pad of cotton wool. With excessive care, he allowed a few drops of the pale liquid to caress the surface of the pad.
‘Oh yes,’ he breathed. ‘This stuff is just dynamite. It takes the mind on a cosmic trip to the planet Lovebrain.’
He passed the pad gently and carefully to Susie. She looked at it with mounting seriousness of purpose.
‘Myoto,’ breathed Banshee with awestruck passion. ‘Nectar of the gods. To be imbibed only by the cosmically pure of heart. Touch it with your lips and breathe it deeply, then pass it around. Then let it take effect. Forget coke, forget crack and rage, forget shurm. This is the essence of the Holy Spirit.’
Susie touched the impregnated pad with her lips, drawing the myoto around her mouth then she inhaled deeply through each nostril. She passed the pad to one of her companions. There was no immediate reaction except for a slight tingling on her lips.
After a moment or two she could not open her mouth. She was sailing up out of her body and merging with the night stars, where the wild ones waited for those who had discovered the key to liberation.Scott strolled through the house and grounds acknowledging the smiles, talking and laughing. Most of the board of Stockton Industries was there, with wives, partners or someone just hired for the night. Scott was feeling pleased with himself. Susie’s present had been an inspired choice. If he had believed in some kind of universal power under which mankind was controlled through apparent chance or destiny, then he would have said that his stars were shining, bestowing upon him not just the Midas touch, but a happy knack of getting it right.
Susie had crooned over the Porsche. Even for a young woman who could have virtually everything, the car was a symbol of liberation and personal power. It said take me, the world is yours and I can transport you to places you never dreamed existed.
Scott emerged into the pool area, and listened to the band for a few bars. The techno-rock they played had made a comeback in recent months, but it was too anarchic for his taste. Give me the sounds of the past, he thought as he watched the guys in their metallic suits lurch around the cramped, makeshift stage.
Then he saw him.
The way he stood, just gazing into the swimming pool reminded Scott of his days at Winfield. The lights from the underwater lamps illuminated the swarthy good looks and the arrogant set of his shoulders.
Wayne Krantz looked up and smiled.
‘Wayne, you made it old buddy,’ Scott grasped his old friend by the hand.
‘Sure, wouldn’t have missed this for the world.’ Krantz stared at Scott with a slightly ironic smile on his lips. He looked around, almost inhaling the atmosphere of monied wealth that permeated the house and grounds.
‘You’ve done well for yourself, Scotty. I still think about this place you know. Remember I used to come here. And Winfield. Shit, we had some fun didn’t we?’
‘We sure did.’
Krantz pulled out a cigarette from his coat pocket, jammed it into his mouth and flicked a lighter. Scott was momentarily taken aback. Nobody he knew smoked these days. Krantz had certainly never done so. They had far better things to inhale than tobacco. He noticed, too, that Krantz’s hand was trembling as he lit the weed. And his nails were dirty. When Scott came to examine his old friend more closely, he saw that his tuxedo was old and hadn’t been cleaned. And Krantz’s skin had a slightly unhealthy pallor.
‘It took me some time to find you, pal,’ Scott led Krantz around the side of the pool towards the marquee.
‘Yeah, well, I’ve been around the clock a few times since we last met,’ said Krantz quietly. He appeared to grow more nervous as they approached the bright lights illuminating the catering tent.
‘Mind if we just stand here awhile?’ he muttered, sucking hard on his cigarette. ‘Got to say Susie looks terrific, Scott. She really has turned out to be something else.’
‘I know,’ replied Scott looking off. ‘You know, it’s funny but Susie means more to me than anything I can think of,’ Scott laughed to hide a sudden flush of embarrassment, as if divulging anything as humanly warm as fondness was some kind of weakness.
Krantz interrupted his reverie.
‘Scott, can I ask you something?’
‘Sure, come on, let’s get a drink.’
They ambled over towards the milling crowd arriving for dinner in the elegantly appointed, pink and white marshmallow marquee and Scott put his arm around Krantz’s shoulder.
‘It’s good to see you, old buddy. What is it you wanted to say?’
Krantz stopped at the entrance to the tent. ‘I can’t go in, Scott, I really can’t. Wait, don’t say anything,’ he took a deep, rasping breath. ‘Look, the thing is, I need your help. I’ve got myself into a little trouble. What am I saying? I’m in deep shit, man.’
Krantz could not hold back the tears. His gulping sobs alerted some of the diners entering the tent.
Embarrassed and surprised, Scott dragged Krantz roughly out of the light and into the shadows behind the marquee.
‘What the hell’s the matter with you, Wayne? What do you mean by coming here and making a scene? What trouble? What have you done?’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I just... Look, things haven’t been easy for me. When I left college things looked rosy. But then dad and mom split and we found out he’d been embezzling the company for years. They took everything, man. I mean fucking everything. I was lucky to keep my pants on. I tried to get a job but, well, nothing seemed to work out. So I started dealing. Just a little at a time, you know? Nothing serious. But it got out of control. I’ve been through detox, neural scanning, the whole enchilada, babe, but nothing works. I tell you, once that myoto gets a hold of you then you can kiss your mind goodbye.’
‘Myoto! Jesus, you’re not into that brain cell killer?’
‘Sure am,’ Krantz giggled. ‘It’s spreading like a virus man I can tell you. I even did a deal here tonight.’
Scott spun round angrily and kept his voice deliberately but menacingly low.
‘You did what?’
‘Hey, no problemo, it was just some weirdo jackass with a painted face I met on the way in.’
‘His name, give me his name,’ Scott had grabbed Krantz by the lapels.
‘Come on, Scott, it’s still me, Wayne. Okay, okay, look, I don’t know his name. He called himself something really weird, like he was named after some kind of screaming demon. Banjo or something…’ Krantz tailed off giggling and then shivered.
‘Banshee, do you mean Banshee?’
‘That’s the guy. What an asshole? Paid twice the market rate. Hey, look, Scott, don’t be mad at me, huh! I need help. I owe some guys in Vegas some money, that’s all. I was kind of wondering whether you could, I don’t know, help me out.’
Krantz’s voice became a plaintive moan. Scott meanwhile was staring across at Susie and a group of her friends freaking in front of the bandstand. The music throbbed hypnotically. A cold fear had gripped his guts. Within seconds it had turned to cold fury.
‘Come with me,’ Scott dragged Krantz across the lawn towards the rear entrance of the house. He put his arm around Krantz’s shoulder and shrugged at the curious glances. The guy was drunk. It was not a problem.
As he reached the darkened shadows of the house, he signalled to Jim Mitchell, a saturnine individual in a plain blue suit. Mitchell was the company’s investigator, retained to troubleshoot in difficult situations. Mitchell was a model of acid-eyed discretion. He had the face of a dentist and the hands of a strangler. He moved smoothly and elegantly to Scott’s side.
‘This gentlemen is about to leave,’ Scott told him. ‘ I intend to give him a little parting gift and then I want you to drive him downtown and leave him there.’
Mitchell followed Scott and the struggling Krantz inside.
They made their way to Scott’s office where Krantz was dumped unceremoniously onto a leather sofa.
‘Wayne, if I discover that you have been responsible for getting my sister hooked on anything then you are a dead man, do you understand? Don’t say anything.’
Scott opened the drawer of his desk, took out a check.
‘Five thousand be enough, Wayne?’ he said.
‘Couldn’t make it ten could you, pal,’ Krantz managed a nervous smile. ‘I swear to you, Scott, I never gave your sister anything. I wouldn’t do that. You know I wouldn’t.’
‘Maybe not. But Banshee would. Now, he doesn’t know it yet but he’s going on a one-way trip. Get up and follow me.’
With Mitchell two steps behind, Scott led Krantz through to the back of the house where several cars were parked. He turned to Krantz and grabbed him by the jaw forcing his mouth open. He them rammed the check inside then hit Krantz low in the stomach. This was followed by a series of vicious punches, breaking the other man’s nose. As Krantz lay moaning and chewing on the bloody check, he made a desperate attempt to remove it undamaged from his broken and blood soaked mouth. He had rolled over until he had come to rest by the back wheel of a dark blue Mercedes.
Without feeling, Scott kicked Krantz hard in the ribs several times. The half chewed check popped out of his blood soaked mouth red-stained and covered in spittle. Despite his condition, Krantz still made a frantic grab for the check, clenching his fist and looking up at Scott through a damaged eye.
‘Thanks, old buddy, I won’t forget this.’
Scott turned to Mitchell.
‘Get this piece of garbage out of here. Just take him and dump him somewhere. That’s all, understand? Then get back here as fast as you can. We’ve got to take care of that other piece of shit.’
Without a word, Mitchell bent and lifted Krantz single-handedly to his feet, opened the door of the Mercedes and threw him inside. Krantz had begun to giggle. By the time the car drove away, he was laughing hysterically.
Scott immediately made for Susie’s group. His sister vaguely registered his presence. He found Banshee tottering insanely in a parody of dancing. He took him by the arm and marched him back across the lawn. His friends, including Susie, took little notice.
The gibbering Banshee started to howl as Scott reached the back of the house. Once in the shadows, Scott swiped his knuckles against Banshee’s teeth. The howling stopped instantly to be replaced by choking sobs as the painted face tried to speak.
Scott had reached a small garden shack, out of sight of the main party. He bundled Banshee inside, threw him roughly onto some old, rotten sacking and knelt down close to him.
‘Your life is hanging by a thread, and I am holding it. If I find that you have given my sister Susie any kind of drug, and I mean anything, my face will be the last thing you ever see. And I’ll be fucking laughing.’
With that, Scott stood up and delivered a right hook that knocked Banshee clean out, instantly. His head lolled on his chest as some of his teeth, glinting white in the dusty moonlight filtering in from the shed window, dribbled onto his stained shirt.
Scott weaved his way through the crowd, which by now had really caught the party spirit. He smiled and kissed cheeks but kept his eyes wandering around the grounds.
Finally he saw her near the pool. Swiftly he made his way to her side, put his arms around her shoulders and walked with her to the rear of the house. She was shivering. Her eyes were dilated and her skin felt clammy.
‘What did he give you, sis?’ Scott probed urgently. ‘Tell me, what did that asshole give you?’
Susie could not speak. She looked up at her brother with the expression of a deranged doll. She was terrified. The down period was starting and it was nothing like any downer she had ever experienced. Her soul was being squeezed by the prospect of imminent extinction. That was how myoto worked. It stole your soul and wouldn’t return it till the next shot. Your only chance was to catch early and detox.
‘Was it myoto?’ he begged her hoarsely, squeezing her shoulders. ‘Was it?’
Susie managed to nod then fell trembling against her brother. He picked her up and carried her into the house the back way, through the kitchens. The look on his face dissuaded any of the staff that saw him pass to say anything or make a comment. He managed to get Susie into bed but she was clearly distressed and getting worse. He would fetch Steve Richards from the party immediately. He was a doctor and hypnotherapist and the last time Scott had looked he had been reasonably sober. Thank God he had come to the party. He had known Susie since she was a child. And he could be trusted. He also owed Scott one or two little favours.
Tonight those markers were going to be called in.
Moving quickly, Scott rejoined the party and saw Mitchell standing by the French windows. Remarkable, Scott thought. That guy can be in the middle of a crowd and yet be totally isolated. It’s as if he exudes some kind of repellent. He marched over to Mitchell and spoke to him briefly. Mitchell nodded and left the room.
Scott gazed around till he saw Richards talking to Pamela Strang, one of Los Angeles’s hottest magazine editors. Strang had a reputation. One of these days Scott was determined to put it to the test. Smoothly he eased Richards away from his eye contact and whispered to him. Richards looked serious then glanced upstairs.
He nodded, said something to Scott in reply, and walked swiftly away. Scott shrugged and smiled at Pamela Strang, who eyed him coolly then moved off.
Scott glanced at his watch. There was still time. And he was ready for it.
Many hours later, Scott’s face was contorted with pleasure. The woman was stretched out on an iron-framed bed. He had clipped her wrists to the bed frame with sets of toy handcuffs and now straddled her, appraising her long, white body. She squirmed underneath him. She had not expected the sado-macho thing when she had agreed to meet the young businessman at the club bar. She was nervous. The expression on Stockton’s face was fearful. His mind was somewhere else. But his hands were running up and along her thighs, his thumbs touching her labia and then darting inside to caress her clitoris. That was nice. That was good. But the look on his face, that wasn’t so good.
And she didn’t like the touch of the handcuffs. She wanted to be in control. She liked making her men moan, just like Stockton was starting to make her moan.
‘Take off the handcuffs, baby,’ she smiled at him. ‘Let me do things to you.’
He looked at her as though seeing her for the first time. His lips snarled, showing his teeth. Quickly, he slapped her across the mouth twice, bringing startled tears to her eyes and blood to her lips.
Slowly Scott licked his right forefinger and dipped it into her bloody mouth. Then, carefully, he daubed two circles around both her stiff nipples. Then he touched his own lips with her blood and lowered his head to her breasts.