“We won’t want those tonight,” I said.
“But...”
“If Alex is going to swim out here and sneak aboard, let’s not put a spotlight on him. Okay?”
“Oh. How foolish of me.” She extinguished the light, then turned to me in the cramped space between the bunks and the table. For a moment she was in my arms, her head pressed against my chest, and through the thin fabric of my shirt I could feel the sudden, hot tears.
“What is it?” I soothed, stroking her hair softly.
“Oh... so many things, McKee. Or Nick Carter, or whoever you are.” She knuckled her eyes and sniffled. “Last night I said it was our only time together. And I was right but I didn’t think it would be because of this. I had hoped, all day today, that my... my instinct was wrong. But it was right, wasn’t it?”
A short while ago I’d been bone-weary after the long day of sailing and the festive evening, but as we stood pressed together in that narrow space I felt all the tiredness drop away. “He won’t be here for hours,” I said softly.
For a moment she held me hard against her, then abruptly pulled away, “Can we have some bourbon, McKee? And let us sit well apart here in the dark until Alex comes. No matter what I feel for you I do not want to make love when at any moment my, brother may be joining us.”
It was nearly five when Alex climbed silently over the stern of the boat, ducking around the davited dinghy and crawling through the cockpit to the companionway. I had Hugo in my hand as his head appeared in the opening.
“Hold it!” I hissed, letting the faint light gleam; on the blade.
“Is only me, Nick.” Alex shoved a black waterproof bag ahead of him, then slid headfirst down the short ladder into the cabin. I flicked a penlight on him for an instant; he was in a wet suit that covered everything but his face. I snapped off the light.
“You weren’t seen?”
“Impossible. You put this boat in a good place, my friend; the only others I had to pass were small craft. No one aboard them at night.”
It hadn’t been any accident, but I didn’t have to tell him that. “You want some dry clothes?”
He indicated the bag on the deck in front of him. “I have. Maybe a towel. Two towels.” He stood up, his bulk almost filling the space in the cabin. “I was big man when you first knew me, Nick. Now I am a little bit bigger.” He started to strip off the wet suit, heedless of his sister. She went into the head for towels.
When he was dry and dressed in his dry clothes, we sat in the main cabin with drinks in our hands. Already the sky was starting to turn gray outside, but the weariness that had left me hours earlier seemed to be gone forever.
“We’ve got some time,” I said. “Time to talk.”
Alex took a monster swallow that emptied his glass of bourbon, held it out for more. “No talk. You and me, we got plenty of time, Nick. For now we sleep a little. Then when you go to pick up tickets for my little sister, Christina and me, we have some time together. Okay?”
I took the launch to shore a little after nine. The airline office was within walking distance, so I didn’t bother looking for a cab. It was an overcast day but not windy; the water lapping against the stone quay seemed gray and lifeless. It matched my mood.
After picking up Christina’s ticket I wandered along the promenade aimlessly. This morning there were few strollers in sight. Too early. But the tan Mercedes was parked conspicuously, where the driver and his companion could see my boat. It didn’t worry me; unless they used binoculars they couldn’t tell what was going on there, and it wouldn’t make any difference if they could. Alex had crawled into the chain locker ahead of the forward cabin, made a nest for himself in the cramped space among the damp metal links and announced that he would not come out until we were at sea on the way to Taranto. “When you hide, my friend, you hide. Good night.”
I poked listlessly through the souvenir stalls, looking for something to give Christina. Nothing seemed right. I turned back, heading for a big, old hotel not far from where Scylla was moored. I had agreed to stay away while brother and sister had their reunion, and I wondered what they could talk about after all these years.
A bar was open and I wandered in, the only customer in the cavernous, high-ceilinged room. The barman offered a Bloody Mary, he knew a hungover tourist when he saw one, but I decided to stick to bourbon. Normally I’m not a morning drinker, but as far as my system was concerned this was still last night; I hadn’t slept at all.
I had a couple of slow ones while I watched the minute hand of an electric clock, the kind they used to have on classroom walls in schools, and maybe still have, click around the dial. It wasn’t even eleven o’clock when a uniformed bellman came into the bar, looked around and settled on me.
“Mister Carter?”
I almost said yes before I realized what he’d said. Then I shook my head.
“You... are not Mister Carter?” He was a wizened little fellow, his English impeccable.
“Afraid not. The name’s McKee.”
“But there is a telephone call for the gentleman at the bar. The lady said the name was Carter.” He looked around again, emphasizing that I was the only other person there.
The lady. The damned little fool, I fumed. She must have been up on deck and seen me going into the hotel. And where else was I likely to be but at the bar? I choked back my anger, realizing that something must have happened to make her call me, and in the troubled state she was in she had made a stupid mistake.
“Well,” I said amiably, standing up, “I’ll take the call if the lady insists. Show me the way.” I threw some money on the bar and followed the bellman.
He showed me to a row of house phones along a narrow corridor that led to rest rooms and the rear of the hotel. “Take any phone, and the operator will connect you,” he said. I waited until he drifted away, then lifted the receiver. The operator came on immediately. I told her who I was, wincing as I gave my right name, and she asked me to wait a moment. I leaned against the wall, tired and disgusted by this whole slipshod operation.
The soft sound of a door opening behind me didn’t register at first. Then I heard the squeak of a shoe, the telltale rustle of clothing as an arm was lifted high. I started to turn, the phone receiver clubbed in my hand, but I was far too late; something smashed against my skull and I dropped to my knees. The only pain I felt was the contact with the marble floor, and I was worrying about those knee injuries from high school football days when the second blow connected and there was nothing left to worry about.
Fourteen
I didn’t waste time trying to figure out where I was. The first thing I checked was my knife, and to my surprise I found Hugo still in his sheath under my jacket sleeve. I wasn’t tied up, and I seemed to be lying on a bed of some sort. Painfully I opened my eyes; the light was subdued, like daylight on a cloudy afternoon...
Afternoon! I looked at my watch and groaned. It was past two, and I’d been due back at Scylla by noon. I tried to sit up, but a hand pushed me back on the bed. My eyes wouldn’t focus; all I could see was a blurred head above me at some impossible height, pulsating in time to the pounding at the back of my skull. For a moment I lay still, willing myself to be calm and see what the hell was going on. Then I tried to push the hand away, but it was hard and firm against my chest. A small hand...
I opened my eyes wide; the face above me began to swim into focus, a face surrounded by a halo of soft blonde curls. Then I saw lips, curled in a smile, above them a nose bent a little bit out of line, and snapping dark eyes that were no more friendly than that smile.