Windmills of the Gods

‘Where?’

God Almighty! He was trying to communicate with a drunken moron. He said patiently, ‘It’s a little town outside of Paris. Angel will know.’

‘I need ’nother drink.’

An hour later, Neusa was still drinking. And this time Harry Lantz was encouraging her. Not that she needs much encouragement, Lantz thought. When she’s drunk enough, she’s going to lead me to her boyfriend. The rest will be easy.

He looked over at Neusa Muñez staring filmy-eyed into her drink.

It shouldn’t be hard to catch Angel. He may be tough, but he can’t be very bright. ‘When is Angel coming back to town?’

She focused her watery eyes on him. ‘Nex’ week.’

Harry Lantz took her hand and stroked it. ‘Why don’t you and I go back to your place?’ he asked softly.

‘Okay.’

He was in.

Neusa Muñez lived in a shabby, two-room apartment in the Belgrano district of Buenos Aires. The apartment was messy and unkempt, like its tenant. When they walked through the door, Neusa made straight for the little bar in the corner. She was unsteady on her feet.

‘How ’bout a drink?’

‘Not for me,’ Lantz said. ‘You go ahead.’ He watched as she poured out a drink and downed it. She’s the most ugly, repulsive bitch I’ve ever met, he thought, but the million dollars is going to be beautiful.

He looked around the apartment. There were some books piled on a coffee table. He picked them up, one by one, hoping to get an insight into Angel’s mind. The titles surprised him: Gabriela, by Jorge Amado; Fire From The Mountain, by Omar Cabezas; One Hundred Years of Solitude, by Garcia Marquez; At Night The Cats, by Antonio Cisneros. So Angel was an intellectual. The books did not fit with the apartment or the woman.

Lantz walked over to her and put his arms around her huge, flabby waist. ‘You’re damned cute, do you know that?’ He reached up and stroked her breasts. They were the size of watermelons. Lantz hated big-breasted women. ‘You’ve got a really great body.’

‘Huh?’ Her eyes were glazed.

Lantz’s arms moved down and stroked her fat thighs through the thin cotton dress she wore. ‘How does that feel?’ he whispered.

‘Wha’?’

He was getting nowhere. He had to think of an approach that would get this amazon into bed. But he knew he had to make his move carefully. If he offended her, she might go back and report him to Angel, and that would be the end of the deal. He could try to sweet talk her, but she was too drunk to know what he was saying.

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 towards 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 fren’s. 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, Avenue 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 allI 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.

He thought he heard a sound from the bed. He carefully peeked out of the closet door, but Neusa was still asleep.