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〃Your head's full of questions； no doubt；〃 Whitehead said。 〃Please ask away。 I'll do my best to answer。〃 〃Who are they？〃 he asked。
〃Friends。〃 〃They broke in like assassins。〃 〃Is it not possible that friends； with time； can bee assassins？〃 Marty hadn't been prepared for that particular paradox。 〃One of them sat where you're sitting now。〃 〃How can I be； your bodyguard if I don't know your friends from your enemies？〃 Whitehead paused； and looked hard at Marty。
〃Do you care？〃 he asked after a beat。
〃You've been good to me；〃 Marty replied； insulted by the inquiry。 〃What kind of coldhearted bastard do you take me for？〃 〃My God 。 。 。〃 Whitehead shook his head。 〃Marty 。 。 。〃 〃Explain to me。 I want to help。〃 〃Explain what？〃 〃How you can invite a man who wants to kill you to eat dinner with you。
Whitehead watched the dust mote turning between them。 He either thought the question beneath contempt； or had no answer for it。
〃You want to help me？〃 he said eventually。 〃Then bury the dogs。〃 〃Is that all I'm good for？〃 〃The time may e…〃 〃So you keep telling me；〃 Marty said； standing up。 He wasn't going to get any answers； that much was apparent。 Just meat and good wine。 Tonight； that wasn't enough。
〃Can I go now？〃 he asked； and without waiting for a reply turned his back on the old man and went to the door。
As he opened it； Whitehead said： 〃Forgive me；〃 very quietly。 So quietly in fact that Marty wasn't sure whether the words were intended for him or not。
He closed the door behind him and went back through the house to check that the intruders had indeed gone； they had。 The steam room was empty。 Carys had obviously returned to her room。
Feeling insolent； he slipped into the study and poured himself a treble whisky from the decanter； and then sat in Whitehead's chair by the window； sipping and thinking。 The alcohol did nothing for the clarity of his mind： it simply dulled the ache of frustration he felt。 He slipped away to bed before dawn described the ragged bundles of fur on the lawn too distinctly。
VII。
No Limits
40
It was no morning for burying dead dogs； the sky was too high and promising。 Jets； trailing vapor； crossed to America； the woods budded and winged with life。 Still； the work had to be done； however inappropriate。
Only by the unpromising light of day was it possible to see the full extent of the slaughter。 In addition to killing the dogs around the house； the intruders had broken into the kennels and systematically murdered all its occupants； including Bella and her offspring。 When Marty arrived at the kennels Lillian was already there。 She looked as though she'd been weeping for days。 In her hands she cradled one of the pups。 Its head had been crushed； as if in a vise。
〃Look；〃 she said； proffering the corpse。
Marty hadn't managed to eat anything for breakfast： the thought of the job ahead had taken the edge off his appetite。 Now he wished he'd forced something down： his empty belly echoed on itself。 He felt almost lightheaded。
〃If only I'd been here；〃 she said。
〃You probably would have ended up dead yourself；〃 he told her。 It was the simple truth。
She laid the pup back on the straw； and stroked the matted fur of Bella's body。 Marty was more fastidious than she。 Even wearing a pair of thick leather gloves he didn't want to touch the corpses。 But whatever he lacked in respect he made up for in efficiency； using his disgust as a spur to hurry the work along。 Lillian； though she had insisted on being there to help； was useless in the face of the fact。 All she could do was watch while Marty wrapped the bodies in black plastic refuse bags； loaded the forlorn parcels into the back of the jeep； and then drove this makeshift hearse across to a clearing he'd chosen in the woods。 It was here that they were to be buried； at Whitehead's request； out of sight of the house。 He'd brought two spades； hoping that Lillian would assist； but she was clearly incapable。 He was left to do it single…handed； while she stood； hands thrust into the pockets of her filthy anorak； staring at the leaking bundles。
It was difficult work。 The soil was a network of roots； crisscrossing from tree to tree； and Marty soon worked up a sweat； hacking at the roots with the blade of his spade。 Once he'd dug a shallow grave； he rolled the bodies into it and began to shovel the earth back on top of them。 It rattled on their plastic shrouds； a dry rain。 When the filling was done he patted the soil into a rough mound。
〃I'm going back to the house for a beer；〃 he told Lillian。 〃You ing？〃 She shook her head。 〃Last respects；〃 she muttered。
He left her among the trees and headed back across the lawn to the house。 As he walked； he thought of Carys。 She must be awake by now； surely； though the curtains at the window were still drawn。 How fine to be a bird； he thought； to peer through the gap in the curtains and spy on her stretching naked on the bed； sloth that she was； her arms thrown up above her head； fur at her armpits； fur where her legs met。 He walked into the house wearing a smile and an erection。
He found Pearl in the kitchen； told her he was hungry； and went upstairs to shower。 When he came down again she had a cold spread laid out for him： beef； bread； tomatoes。 He dug in with a will。
〃Seen Carys this morning？〃 he asked； mouth crammed。
〃No；〃 she replied。 She was at her most unmunicative today； her face pinched up with some fermenting grievance。 He wondered； watching her move around the kitchen； what she was like in bed： for some reason he was full of dirty thoughts today； as if his mind； refusing to be depressed by the burial； was eager for uplifting sport。 Chewing on a mouthful of salted beef he said： 〃Was it veal you fed the old man last night？〃 Pearl didn't look up from her labors as she said： 〃He didn't eat last night。 I left fish for him； but he didn't touch it。〃 〃But he had meat；〃 Marty said。 〃I finished it off for him。 And strawberries。〃 〃He must have e down and got those for himself。 Always strawberries；〃 she said。 〃He'll choke on them one of these days。〃 Now Marty came to think of it； Whitehead had said something about his guest providing the meat。
〃It was good； whatever it was；〃 he said。
〃None of my doing；〃 Pearl said； offended as a wife discovering her husband's adultery。
Marty put the conversation to rest； it was no use trying to raise her spirits when she was in this kind of mood。
The meal finished； he went up to Carys〃 room。 The house was pin…drop still： after the lethal farce of the previous night it had regained its posure。 The pictures that lined the staircase； the carpets underfoot； all conspired against any rumor of distress。 Chaos here was as unthinkable as a riot in an art gallery： all precedent forbade it。
He knocked on Carys〃 door； lightly。 There was no answer； so he knocked again； more loudly this time。
〃Carys？〃 Perhaps she didn't want to speak to him。 He'd never been able to predict from one day to the next whether they were lovers or enemies。 Her ambiguities no longer distressed him； however。 It was her way of testing him； he guessed； and it was fine by him as long as she fina