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ars。
Eight floors below； Bartlett crossed the small foyer and went outside to join the half a dozen people waiting impatiently for a taxi。 The torrent was steady now and it gushed off the concrete overhang to join the flood that swirled in a small river down Kotewall Road； overflowing the gutters； the storm drains long since choked； carrying with it stones and mud and vegetation that came off the high banks and slopes above。 Cars and trucks grinding cautiously up or down the steep road splashed through the whirlpools and eddies； windshield wipers clicking； windows fogged。
Across the road the land rose steeply and Bartlett saw the multitude of rivulets cascading down the high concrete embankments that held the earth in。 Weeds grew out of cracks。 Part of a sodden clump fell away to join more debris and stones and mud。 One side of the embankment was a walled garage and； up the slope； a half…hidden ornate Chinese mansion with a green tiled roof and dragons on its gables。 Beside it was scaffolding of a building site and excavations for a high rise。 Beside that was another apartment block that vanished into the overcast。
So much building； Bartlett told himself critically。 Maybe we should get into construction here。 Too many people chasing too little land means profit； huge profit。 And amortized over three years … Jesus！
A taxi swirled up； careless of the puddles。 Passengers got out and others； grumbling； got in。 A Chinese couple came out of the entrance； shoved past him and the others to the head of the line … a loud chattering matron with a huge umbrella； an expensive raincoat over her chong…sam； her husband meek and mild alongside her。 Screw you； baby； Bartlett thought； you're not going to take my turn。 He moved into a better position。 His watch read 10：35。
What next； he asked himself。 Don't let Orlanda distract you！
Struan's or Gornt？
Today's skirmish day； tomorrow … Friday … tomorrow's the ball…breaker； the weekend's for regrouping； Monday's the final assault and by 3：00 p。m。 we should have a victor。
Whom do I want to win？ Dunross or Gornt？
That Gornt's a lucky man … was a lucky man； he thought； bemused。 Jesus； Orlanda's something else。 Would I have quit her if I'd been him？ Sure。 Sure I would。 Well maybe not … nothing happened。 But I'd've married her the moment I could and not sent our child packing to Portugal … that Gornt's a no…good son of a bitch。 Or goddamn clever。 Which？
She laid it out nice and clean … just like Casey did but different though the result's the same。 Now everything's plicated； or simple。 Which？
Do I want to marry her？ No。
Do I want to let her drop？ No。
Do I want to bed her？ Sure。 So mount a campaign； maneuver her into bed without mitments。 Don't play the game of life according to female rules； all's fair in war and war。 What's love anyway？ It's like Casey said； sex's only a part of it。
Casey。 What about her？ Not long to wait for Casey now。 And then； is it bed or marriage bells or good…bye or what？ Goddamned if I want to get married again。 The one time turned out lousy。 That's strange； I haven't thought about her in a long time。
When Bartlett had returned from the Pacific in '45 he had met her in San Diego and married within a week； full of love and ambition and had hurled himself into beginning a construction business in southern California。 The time was ripe in California； all forms of building booming。 The first child had arrived within ten months and the second a year later and a third ten months after that； and all the while working Saturdays and Sundays； enjoying the work and being young and strong and succeeding hugely； but drifting apart。 Then the quarreling began and the whining and the 〃you never spend any time with us anymore and screw the business I don't care about the business I want to go to France and Rome and why don't you e home early have you a girl friend I know you have a girl friend。 。。。〃
But there was no girl friend； just work。 Then one day the attorney's letter。 Just through the mail。
Shit； Bartlett thought angrily； it still hurting。 But then I'm only one of millions and it's happened before and it'll happen again。 Even so your letter or your phone call hurts。 It hurts and it costs you。 It costs you plenty and the attorneys get most； get a good part and they cleverly fan the fire between you for their own goddamn gain。 Sure。 You're their meal ticket； we all are！ From the cradle to the goddamn grave； attorneys kite trouble and feed off your blood。 Shit。 Attorneys're the real plague of the good old U。S。 of A。 I've only met four good ones in all my life； but the rest？ They parasite all of us。 Not one of us's safe！
Yes。 That bastard Stone！ He made a killing out of me； turned her into a goddamn fiend； put her and the kids against me forever and nearly broke me and the business。 I hope the bastard rots for all eternity！
With an effort Bartlett took his mind off that gaping sore and looked at the rain and remembered that it was only money and that he was free； free and that made him feel marvelous。
Jesus！ I'm free and there's Casey and Orlanda。
Orlanda。
Jesus； he thought； the ache still in his loins； I was really going back there。 So was Orlanda。 Goddamn； it's bad enough with Casey but now I've two of them。
He had not been with a girl for a couple of months。 The last time was in London； a casual meeting and casual dinner then into bed。 She was staying at the same hotel； divorced and no trouble。 What was it Orlanda said？ A friendly tumble and a shy good…bye？ Yes。 That's it。 But that one wasn't shy。
He stood in line happily； feeling greatly alive and watching the torrents； the smell of the rain on the earth grand； the road messed with stones and mud； the flood swirling over a long wide crack in the tarmac to dance into the air like rapids of a stream。
The rain's going to bring lots of trouble； he thought。 And Orlanda's lots of trouble； old buddy。 Sure。 Even so； there must be a way to bed her。 What is it about her that blows your mind？ Part's her face； part's her figure； part's the look in her eye； part's 。。。 Jesus； face it； she's all woman and all trouble。 Better forget Orlanda。 Be wise； be wise； old buddy。 As Casey said； that broad's dynamite！
43
10：50 A。M。：
It had been raining now for almost twelve hours and the surface of the Colony was soaked though the empty reservoirs were barely touched。 The parched earth weled the wet。 Most of the rain ran off the baked surface to flood the lower levels； turning dirt roads into morasses； and building sites into lakes。 Some of the water went deep。 In the resettlement areas that dotted the mountainsides the downpour was a disaster。
Shantytowns of rickety hovels built of any scraps； cardboard； planks； corrugated iron； fencing； canvas； sidings； three…ply walls and roofs for the well…to…do； all leaning against one another； attached to one another； on top of one another； layer on layer； up and down the mountains … all with dirt floors and dark alleys that were now awash and mucked and puddled and potholed and dangerous。 Rain pouring through roofs soaking bedding； clothes and the other remnants of a lifetime； people packed on people surrounded by people who stoical