The Vampire Armand - Anne Rice [177]
“Anything,” Sybelle said. She crouched down beside me. “Is my hand cool if I lay it on your forehead? Is it gentle if I touch your hair?”
I looked at her from one narrow-slitted eye.
Her long thin neck was part of her shivering and emaciated loveliness. Her breasts were voluptuous and high. Beyond her in the lovely warm glow of the room, I saw the piano. I thought of these long gentle fingers touching the keys. I could hear in my head the throb of the Appassionata.
There came a loud flick, a crackle, a snap, and then the rich fragrance of fine tobacco.
Benji strode back and forth beyond her, with his black cigarette on his lip.
“I have a plan,” he declared, effortlessly holding forth with the cigarette firmly grasped between his half-open lips. “I go down to the streets. I meet a bad, bad guy in no time. I tell him I’m alone here in this apartment, up here in the hotel, with a man who is drunk and drooling and crazy and we have all this cocaine to sell and I don’t know what to do and I need help with it.”
I started to laugh in spite of the pain.
The little Bedouin shrugged his shoulders and held up his palms, puffing away on the black cigarette, the smoke curling about him like a magical cloud.
“What you think? It will work. Look, I’m a good judge of character. Now, you, Sybelle, you get out of the way, and let me lead this miserable sack of filth, this bad guy whom I lure into my trap, right to the very bed, and pitch him down on his face, like this, I trip him with my foot, like this, and he falls, boink, right into your arms, Armand, what do you think of it? ”
“And if it goes wrong?” I asked.
“Then my beautiful Sybelle cracks him over the head with her hammer.”
“I have a better thought,” I said, “though God knows that what you’ve just devised is unsurpassingly brilliant. You tell him of course that the cocaine is under the coverlet in neat little plastic sacks all stretched out, but if he doesn’t take this bait and come here to see for himself, then let our beautiful Sybelle simply throw back the cover, and when he sees what truly lies in this bed, he’ll be out of here with no thought to harm anyone!”
“That’s it!” Sybelle cried. She clapped her hands together. Her pale luminous eyes were wide.
“That’s perfect,” Benji agreed.
“But mark, don’t carry a copper penny into the streets with you. If only we had but a little bit of the evil white powder with which to bait the beast.”
“But we do,” said Sybelle. “We have just that, a little bit which we took from my brother’s pockets.” She looked down at me thoughtfully, not seeing me but running the plan through the tight coils of her soft and yielding mind. “We took everything out so that when we left him to be found, they’d find nothing with him. There are so many who are left that way in New York. Of course it was an unspeakable chore to drag him.”
“But we have that evil white powder, yes!” said Benji, clasping her shoulder suddenly and then bolting out of my sight to return within the instant with a small flat white cigarette case.
“Put it here, where I can smell what’s inside,” I said. I could see that neither of them knew for certain.
Benji snapped open the lid of the thin silver box. There, nestled in a small plastic bag, folded with impeccable neatness, was the powder with the very exact smell that I wanted it to have. I needn’t put it to my tongue, on which sugar would have tasted just as alien.
“That’s fine. Only empty out half of that at once down a drain, so that there’s just a little left, and leave the silver case here, lest you run into some fool who’ll kill you for it.”
Sybelle shivered with obvious fear. “Benji, I’ll go with you.”
“No, that would be most unwise,” I said. “He can get away from anyone much faster without you.”
“Oh, so right you are!” said Benji, taking the last drag from his cigarette and then crushing it out in a big glass ashtray beside the bed, where a dozen other little white butts were curled waiting for it.