Читать книгу Coldheart Canyon - Clive Barker, Clive Barker - Страница 23

Burrows had brought both painkillers and tranquillizers that Todd supplemented with a large order from Jerome Bunny, a ratty little Englishman who’d been his supplier of illicit pharmaceuticals for the last four years. Under their influence, Todd spent the next twenty-four hours in a semi-somnambulant state.

The rain was unrelenting. He sat in front of Maxine’s immense television screen and watched a succession of images of other people’s pain–houses gone, families divided – dreamily wondering if any of them would exchange their misery for his. Every now and then a memory of the visage he’d seen in the mirror–vaguely resembling somebody he’d known, but horribly wounded, filled with pus and blood – would swim up before him, and he’d take another pill, or two or three, and wash it down with a shot of single malt, and wait for the opiates to drive the horror off a little distance.

The new dressings Burrows had put on, though as promised they indeed left his eyes uncovered, were still oppressive, and more than once Todd’s hands went up to his face unbidden, and would have ripped the bandages off had he not governed himself in time. He felt grotesque, like something from a late-night horror movie, his face – which had been his glory – become some horrible secret, festering away beneath the bandages. He asked Maxine what movie it was – some Rock Hudson weepie – in which a man was covered up this way. She didn’t know.

‘And stop thinking about yourself for a while,’ she said. ‘Think about something else.’

Easily said; the trouble was thinking about himself came naturally to him. In fact, it had become second-nature to him over the years to put all other considerations out of sight: to care only about Todd Pickett, and (on occasion) Dempsey. Not to have done so would have meant a diminution of his power in the world. After all, he’d been playing a game which only the truly self-obsessed had a chance of victory. All others were bound to fall by the wayside. Now, when it would have been healthier to direct his attention elsewhere, he’d simply lost the knack. And he had no dog by his side to love him for being the boss, whatever the hell he looked like.

Late in the day Maxine came back from her visit to the Hideaway, as she had now dubbed it, with some good news. The house in the hills was just as Jerry Brahms had advertised.

‘It’s the only house in the Canyon,’ she said.

‘Which Canyon?’

‘I don’t even think it’s got a name.’

‘They’ve all got names, for God’s sake.’

‘All I can tell you is that it’s somewhere between Cold-water and Laurel. To be perfectly honest I got a little lost following Jerry up there. He drives like the Devil. And you know my sense of geography.’

‘What is the house like?’

‘Right now it’s practically empty. There’s some old stuff in there – looks like it goes back to the fifties, maybe earlier – but nothing you’d want to use. I’ll have Marco choose some furniture from the Bel Air house and move it over. Get you comfortable. But really it’s ideal for what we need right now. By the way, Ms Bosch has been calling my office. She got quite pushy with Sawyer. She’s absolutely certain you’re in Hawaii screwing some starlet.’

‘If that’s what she wants to think.’

‘You don’t care?’

‘Not right now.’

‘You’re certain you don’t want to see her?’

‘Christ. See her? No, Maxine. I do not want to see her.’

‘She was pretty upset.’

‘That’s because she wanted a part in Warrior, and she thought I’d get it for her.’

‘Okay. End of discussion. If she calls again –?’

‘Tell her she’s right. I’m in Hawaii fucking the ass off anyone you care to name. Manipulative little bitch.’

‘So here,’ Maxine said. She proffered an envelope.

‘What’s this?’

‘They’re the pictures I took of the Hideaway.’

He took the envelope. ‘It’ll be fine,’ he said before he’d even looked at the photographs.

‘You might be there for a few weeks. I want you to be comfortable.’

Todd pulled out the photographs.

‘They’re not the best, I’m afraid,’ Maxine said. ‘It’s one of those throwaway cameras. And it was raining. But you get the idea.’

‘It looks big.’

‘According to Jerry they used to call them dream palaces. All the rich stars had them. It’s hokey, but it’s got a lot of atmosphere. There’s a huge master-bedroom with a view straight down the Canyon. You can see Century City; probably the ocean on a clear day. And the living room’s as big as a ballroom. Whoever built it put a lot of love into it. All the mouldings, the door-handles, everything is top of the line. Of course it gets campy. There’s a fresco on the ceiling of the turret. All these faces leaning over looking down at you. Famous movie stars, Jerry said. I didn’t recognize any of ’em but I guess they were from silent movies.’ She paused, waiting for judgment. Todd just kept looking at the pictures. ‘Well?’ Maxine finally said. ‘Too Old Hollywood for you?’

‘No. It’s fine. Anyway, isn’t that what I am now?’

‘What?’

‘Old Hollywood.’