King Rat by James Clavell Read Free Book Online Page B

nothing to be sorry about,” the King said sharply. “It was my mistake. I got stupid. Nothing to do with you.”
    “It makes no difference.” Peter Marlowe’s face was granite like his eyes. “But you must think me a complete shit if you expect me to let you be crucified. And a bigger one if you think I want money from you — when I’d been careless. I’m not taking that from anyone!”
    “Sit down a minute. Please.”
    “Why?”
    “Goddammit, because I want to talk to you.”
    Max hesitated at the door with the King’s mess cans.
    “Excuse me,” he said cautiously, “here’s your chow. You want some tea?”
    “No. And Tex gets my soup today.” He took the mess can of rice and put it on the table.
    “Okay,” said Max, still hesitating, wondering if the King wanted a hand to beat hell out of the son of a bitch.
    “Beat it, Max. And tell the others to leave us alone for a minute.”
    “Sure.” Max went out agreeably. He thought the King was very wise to have no witnesses, not when you clobber an officer.
    The King looked back at Peter Marlowe. “I’m asking you. Will you sit down a minute? Please.”
    “All right,” said Peter Marlowe stiffly.
    “Look,” the King began patiently. “You got me out of the noose. You helped me — it’s only right I help you. I offered you the dough because I wanted to thank you. If you don’t want it, fine — but I didn’t mean to insult you. If I did, I apologize.”
    “Sorry,” Peter Marlowe said, softening. “I’ve got a bad temper. I didn’t understand.”
    The King stuck out his hand. “Shake on it.”
    Peter Marlowe shook hands.
    “You don’t like Grey, do you?” the King said carefully.
    “No.”
    “Why?”
    Peter Marlowe shrugged. The King divided the rice carelessly and handed him the larger portion. “Let’s eat.”
    “But what about you?” said Peter Marlowe, gaping at the bigger helping.
    “I’m not hungry. My appetite went with the birds. Jesus, that was close. I thought we’d both had it.”
    “Yes,” Peter Marlowe said, with the beginning of a smile. “It was a lot of fun, wasn’t it?”
    “Huh?”
    “Oh, the excitement. Haven’t enjoyed anything so much in years, I suppose. The danger — excitement.”
    “There are a lot of things I don’t understand about you,” the King said weakly. “You mean to say you enjoyed it?”
    “Certainly — didn’t you? I thought it was almost as good as flying a Spit. You know, at the time it frightens you, but at the same time doesn’t — and during and after you feel sort of lightheaded.”
    “I think you’re just out of your head.”
    “If you weren’t enjoying it then why the hell did you try to throw me with ‘stud’? I bloody nearly died.”
    “I didn’t try to throw you. Why the hell would I want to throw you?”
    “To make it more exciting and to test me.”
    The King bleakly wiped his eyes and his face. “You mean to say you think I did that deliberately?”
    “Of course. I did the same to you when I passed the questioning to you.”
    “Let’s get this straight. You did that just to test my nerves?” the King gasped.
    “Of course, old boy,” Peter Marlowe said. “I don’t understand what’s the matter.”
    “Jesus,” said the King, a nervous sweat beginning again. “We’re almost in the pokey and you play games!” The King paused for breath. “Crazy, just plain crazy, and when you hesitated after I’d fed you the ‘hole’ clue, I thought we were dead.”
    “Grey thought that too. I was just playing with him. I only finished it quickly because the eggs were getting cold. And you don’t see a fried egg like that every day. My word on it.”
    “I thought you said it wasn’t any good.”
    “I said it wasn’t ‘bad.’” Peter Marlowe hesitated. “Look. Saying it’s ‘not bad’ means that it’s exceptional. That’s a way of paying a chap a compliment without embarrassing him.”
    “You’re out of your skull! You risk my neck — and