East of Desolation Read Online Free PDF

and more about his personal life. As his film appearances decreased, he seemed to spend most of his time roaming the world in the Stella and the scandals increased by a sort of inverse ratio that still kept his name constantly before the public. A saloon brawl in London, a punch-up with Italian police in Rome, an unsavoury court case in the States involving a fifteen-year-old whose mother said he’d promised to marry the girl and still wanted him to.
    These and a score of similar affairs had given him a sort of legendary notoriety that still made him an object of public veneration wherever he went and yet I knew from the things he had told me—usually after a bout ofheavy drinking—that his career was virtually in ruins and that except for a part in a low budget French film, he hadn’t worked in two years.
    “You’re just in time for the kill,” he said. “These boys have finally managed to find a bear for me.”
    I slung the Winchester over my shoulder and jumped to the sand. “A small one I hope.”
    He frowned and nodded at the Winchester. “What in the hell do you want with that thing?”
    “Protection,” I said. “With you and your damned bear around I’m going to need all I can get.”
    There was a clump of harpoons standing in the wet sand beside the kayaks and he pulled one loose and brandished it fiercely.
    “This is all you need; all any man needs. It’s the only way—the only way with any truth or meaning.”
    Any minute now he was going to tell me just how noble death was and I cut in on him quickly and patted the Winchester.
    “Well this is my way—the Joe Martin way. Any bear who comes within a hundred yards of me gets the whole magazine. I’m allergic to the smell of their fur.”
    He roared with laughter and slapped me on the back. “Joe, baby, you’re the greatest thing since air-conditioning. Come and have a drink.”
    “Not for me, thanks,” I said.
    He had a head start anyway, that much was obvious, but I followed him to the fire and squatted beside him as he uncorked a nearly empty bottle and poured a generous measure into a tin cup. The hunters from Narquassit watched us impassively, a scattering of dogs crouched attheir feet. Desforge shook his head in disgust.
    “Look at them—what a bloody crew. I had to bribe them to get them this far.” He swallowed some of his whisky. “But what can you expect? Look at their clothes—all store bought. Not a pair of sealskin pants among them.”
    He emptied the dregs of the bottle into his cup and I said, “I’ve brought a visitor to see you—a girl called Eytan.”
    He turned sharply, bewilderment on his face. “Ilana—here? You’re kidding.”
    I shook my head. “She flew into Søndre from Copenhagen last night.”
    “Did she say what she wanted?”
    I shook my head. “Maybe she’s come to take you home.”
    “Not a chance.” He laughed shortly. “I owe too many people too damned much on the outside. Greenland suits me just fine for the time being.” He leaned across, full of drunken gravity. “I’ll tell you something in confidence—confidence, mind you? There’s a lulu coming up that’ll put me right back there on top of the heap and take care of my old age. Milt Gold of Horizon should be in touch with me any day now.”
    “Maybe this Eytan girl has a message for you,” I suggested.
    His face brightened. “Heh, you could have a point there.”
    There was a faint cry from along the beach and we turned to see an Eskimo trotting towards us wavingexcitedly. Everything else was forgotten as Desforge got to his feet and picked up a harpoon.
    “This is it,” he said. “Let’s get moving.”
    He didn’t even look to see if he was being followed and I shouldered the Winchester and went after him, the hunters from Narquassit following. You can tell when an Eskimo is happy because sometimes he’ll actually smile, but more often than not it’s impossible to know how he’s feeling at any given moment. Allowing for