"Does Leslie know he succeeded with his bribe?"
She nodded. "When he made that last phone call to the prime minister from the jail, he was given the word, but he couldn't tell me, because you and the priest were there."
"What about Sir Winston?"
"What about him?"
"Does he know about the deal?"
"He knows nothing. That's why I have to get out of here now and why you can't say anything to anybody, either here or in the States. Does the press know about the hanging?"
Stone nodded, "Bill Eggers, in New York, had a press release sent out."
"Good; let's leave it that way."
"For how long?"
"I don't know. Until I let you know it's okay."
The rush of adrenaline was gone now, and Stone was sagging. "What happened after they took you into the courtyard?"
"They whisked me out of the building and into a car and delivered me here, to the motor yacht."
"But I saw it leaving earlier this evening."
"I was already aboard. I made them stop outside the harbor and bring me back in the tender. I had to see you and explain." She looked at him oddly. "Aren't you at all glad to see me?"
He put his arms around her and held her close. "You bet I am," he whispered.
"I'm so sorry to have put you through all this, but there just wasn't any other way."
He held her back and looked at her. "You can read your obituary in the Times in a couple of days, I expect."
She smiled. "Well, that will be fun. I'd just as soon be dead for a little while. I have a lot to do, and I can do it better without a lot of reporters and cameras around. Promise me you'll keep my secret until you hear from me."
"I think that comes under the heading of attorney-client confidentiality."
"Don't tell even Hilary Kramer and Jim Forrester. They'd spill the beans."
"As you wish."
She looked at her watch. "I have to get going; I've a long way to travel."
He got out of bed and walked into the saloon with switching on the chart table light. "Your duffel is Over there," he said, indicating the sofa.
She went and picked it up. "Thanks; a girl can't get far without her makeup."
He picked up the envelope on the chart table and began to open it, but she took it from him and put it back.
"Not now," she said. "You can do that when I'm gone. Right now, you have to kiss me good-bye." She put her arms around his waist, pressed her body against his, and kissed him for a long time.
"You sure you, have to rush off?" he breathed in her ear.
"I wish I didn't, but I do. I'll make it up to you later."
"I'll hold you to that."
"Stone," she said, an uncertainty creeping into her voice, "that envelope contains my last wishes; I want you to promise me that you'll honor them in every respect, as if I really were dead."
"All right, I promise."
She kissed him again. "The days and nights I spent with you on this boat were among the happiest of my life. Remember that, too."
"How could I forget it?"
She kissed him again, grabbed the duffel, and ran up the companionway stairs.
He followed her on deck and watched her get back into the Boston Whaler, which putted slowly away from the yacht. He didn't hear the engine rev up until it was out of sight around a corner of the harbor.
Stone went back below, went to the bar, and poured himself a brandy. His heart was still beating very fast, and he was going to have to wind down a bit if he expected to get any sleep that night. He sat down at the chart table and picked up Allison's envelope, ripping it open. Inside were a letter, some papers, and a U.S. Coast Guard yacht document. He picked up the letter.
Dear Stone,
With any luck, there should be a happy ending to all this.
Don't be mad at Leslie; I swore him to silence. I've paid his fee, and yours is in the envelope with this letter.
I will be very angry if you feel I'm being foolish, and I don't want to hear a word about it from you. This all feels very right to me.
The yacht, Expansive, is yours now, to do with what you will.
Unfortunately, Libby's dear old mother is yours, too, and you can handle that situation as you see fit.
Whatever happens, wherever I go, I will always be grateful to you for the time we spent together and for all your hard work. I hope next year you can have a better sailing vacation.
With great affection,
Allison
Stone put down the letter and went through the other documents. There was one conveying the yacht to him as his fee for legal services, and the Coast Guard, U.S. Customs, and State of Connecticut documents were all signed, notarized, and in perfect order.
Stone took a stiff gulp of brandy. Now he would never get any sleep on this night.
CHAPTER 63
Stone managed a couple of hours' sleep, but he was up at dawn, looking over his new yacht. He went through all the cockpit lockers, making a mental inventory of the gear aboard, then he walked fore and aft, checking the way the lines led and what each was for. He thought that for such a large yacht; she would really be very simple to sail. The mainsail had been repaired, and he hauled it back to the cockpit. It took him the better part of an hour to get it bent on. Then he hauled on the line that rolled the mainsail up into the mast like a giant window shade.
Finally, he unreefed the roller-reefing genoa and hauled it down. Paul and Allison had had problems with the top swivel separating into two pieces, and he wanted to think about repairing it. To his surprise, he found that it had already been repaired, and very elegantly. Someone, in an impressive display of seamanship, had seized it together with fine whipping wire. It looked as though it was better than new. He hauled the sail up, then reefed it around the forestay. Expansive seemed pretty shipshape, he thought.
"Stone!" The cry came from the lawn, and Stone looked up to see Thomas Hardy running toward him. Behind Thomas, traveling more slowly, came Leslie Hewitt, back in his accustomed shorts and T-shirt. Thomas jumped aboard and turned to give Leslie a hand up.
"What's up?" Stone asked. "You both look very excited."
"You tell him, Leslie," Thomas said.
"I've had a call from a friend at Government House. When Allison…when her case was resolved, the yacht, as her bail bond, reverted to her… estate. But my friend says that Sir Winston Sutherland has filed a petition with the Admiralty, which administers maritime affairs, claiming the yacht for the Ministry of Justice, supposedly to defray the costs of Allison's trial. It's just a naked grab of someone else's property, but he can probably bring it off."
Thomas grinned. "I hear you are a boat owner now."
"Well, for a few hours, anyway," Stone said. "Leslie, how much time have I got?"
Leslie looked at his watch. "It's just past ten. Lord, I don't know; Winston could be here with an order any minute."
"Thomas, can you put together a week's provisions for me in a hurry?"
"I'll see to it," Thomas said. He jumped down from the deck and sprinted back toward the Shipwright's Arms.
Stone looked at Leslie Hewitt. "Well, Leslie, I hear that my co-counsel hasn't been absolutely frank with me about the way Allison's case was conducted."
"What? What do you mean? I surely…"
Stone held up a hand. "Don't bother; Allison came to see me last night."
Leslie looked embarrassed, but he managed a grin. "Well, perhaps I wasn't entirely candid with you, Stone, but all's well…"
"That ends well," Stone said. "It did end well, I suppose; you're just lucky I didn't die of a heart attack last night."
"Myself as well," Leslie said. "I was frantic when I couldn't get anyone on the phone at the prime minister's residence or in his office. I was nearly as much in the dark as you, right up until you asked about the disposition of the body, and the policeman gave you that malarkey about cremation. There's no crematorium on St.Marks, so I figured I must have brought it off after all."