Read Online Silversword by Charles Knief - Free Book Online

beach. Or head on over to Duke’s. It’s at the Outrigger, next door. They filmed that private eye television series over there.”
    â€œReally?”
    â€œReally. The food is good and the drinks are generous.”
    He looked at me with a wounded look.
    â€œI know. I noticed. You don’t drink. But you can get an honest grapefruit juice over there, I’m sure.”
    Felix looked dubious.
    â€œThere’s plenty of protection here. Chawlie didn’t hire you as a nursemaid. Take some time off.”
    â€œThanks.”
    â€œHave fun.”
    He turned and left the suite, apparently happy to have a destination, happy to explore. And happy, I thought, to be rid of the old man for a little while. He would not be a problem for me while he remained, and his company was intelligent and interesting. He could fade into the background when necessary and he might be helpful if ever he were needed. Chawlie had done well for me. But then, Chawlie always did. Chawlie always paid his debts.
    I didn’t know how long this enforced retirement would last. I didn’t know how long I could stay down. After a life filled with travel and trouble I was not certain I could merely stay calm and quiet and safe and not go out of my mind.

    But tired as I was, that prospect didn’t seem so bad at the moment. And there would be the challenge of getting stronger every day, the challenge of rebuilding what the bullet had taken away.
    I could do it.
    It would just take time.
    And time, it seemed, was the one thing I had in abundance.
    â€œMr. Caine?” One of the sweet young things asked. “Would you care for something to eat or drink? I’m sure you’re thirsty and hungry from your trip.”
    â€œI just want to sleep.” Food and drink were still strangers to me. I had memories of dining on great food and enjoying wonderful wine. But at the moment my stomach was a sour pit, able to tolerate little. Like my sex drive, my hunger for food and drink was flat.
    â€œOf course.”
    She took my hand and helped me to the master bedroom, where the big king-sized bed had already been turned down over crisp, white linen. While I undressed, she pulled the shades and closed the windows. I was in bed before she turned around.
    â€œI need to check your drains,” she said.
    When I protested, she smiled indulgently and did what she wanted, unimpressed by my feeble objections.
    I lay quietly while she worked, watching her “tut-tutting” with her mouth while she checked my bandages and drains, lightly touching the unimpaired skin around the incisions, as if feeling for the heat of infection. Her fingers were cool, her touch not unpleasant.
    â€œYou sleep, Mr. Caine,” she said quietly, apparently satisfied with her inspection. “You sleep as long as you like.”
    â€œWhat’s your name?” Her lovely face paused over mine, the face of a tiny guardian angel, hovering over me.
    â€œAngelica,” she said.
    â€œOf course it is,” I murmured, thinking that even Chawlie’s little playmates were more than playmates, and that Angelica’s professional inspection gave me confidence that everything was
going to work out just fine. The best I could do was to surrender myself to her care, and live each day as it came, and try not think too far ahead.
    Just the way I’d always lived my life.

8
    T he pretty young nurses worked hard to help me heal. They tried almost everything. The way they cared for me I was confident that Chawlie’s orders had been explicit.
    But the only thing that would really make me heal was time and my body’s own system. The doctors had done their job. I tried to be a good patient. I willingly did what the nurses told me to do. Up to a point. And then I did that, too. They were so sweet and earnest that I couldn’t bark and I couldn’t refuse them, even when I felt crabby and disjointed, even when I would rather have been