Kermode called, 'Watch him, sir. He's making for the weeds. Ah, he's a cunning one.'
The boat altered position and my face went under as O'Dowda tightened the line. I fought against it, jack-knifing my legs forward to bring my head up and then leaning back against the pressure of the line, taking the full power on my neck. O'Dowda held me like it for a few moments. I saw the arc of the rod bend more and I couldn't fight the power of the line and split bamboo rod. My face went under again and I had to kick forward fast to take off the full power of the line strain to get my mouth above water. I gulped in air, but before I'd had my fill, the boat moved away from me and the strain came in again. For five minutes O'Dowda played me, letting me have just enough air and respite to keep me going, but all the while I was getting weaker and more desperate, knowing that I was slowly being drowned. O'Dowda could have made a fast job of it, but he was taking his time. Now and again as I got my head up I saw them in the boat, and heard them laughing. I made a last, kicking thrust for shallow water, but I was stopped dead. Then the strain went off and I was allowed to breathe.
O'Dowda shouted, 'Well, where is it?'
He had me. There wasn't any question about it. Another five minutes of this and I wouldn't care what happened to me. But at that moment I was just conscious enough to care about the future. Quite frankly I didn't want to die, and I wasn't in any mood to make sacrifices for anybody. I wanted to stay alive. It's a powerful instinct and there's no arguing with it.
I opened my mouth to shout, but Kermode gave a couple of strokes on the oars and O'Dowda put more strain on the line and my face was under again. For a moment or two I blanked out from intelligent thought, just sinking into blackness, and stupidly telling myself that it was enough to put a man off fishing for life…
They must have seen I was all in and ready to talk, because the strain went off the line. I surfaced slowly and lay in the water on my back, facing the gold and silver morning sky, seeing a flight of starlings skeined right across it. I lay there gulping in the lovely air.
The strain was right off the line now and I heard the boat coming towards me, the reel singing as O'Dowda took up the slack line.
O'Dowda's voice called, 'Ready to talk?'
I rolled over and faced them. The boat was about four yards away. I trod water feebly and nodded my head.
O'Dowda said, 'Good. Where is it?'
'I'll have to go and get it. I posted it to myself,' I said.
'How long will that take?'
'Not long. It's poste restante at—'
Several things happened then to make me break off. There was the sound of a shot, O'Dowda ducked, raising the tip of the rod, and the strain came sharply back on to the line, choking the rest of my words silent.
Feebly I kicked to take the strain off. There was another shot from somewhere to my left. I slewed my head round to see three figures standing on the far bank. One of them plunged into the water and headed for me. At the same time one of the others raised a hand and I heard another shot. O'Dowda and Kermode went down flat in the boat and the strain was off me completely.
I made a few weak, token kicks towards whoever was coming out to me.
A few seconds later a familiar voice said, 'Hold on, honey-chile, while I get the hook out of your mouth. Yum-yum, fish for supper.'
It was, bless her black little heart, Panda Bubakar, heading for me at speed, a grin all over her face, her white teeth flashing, and, held between them, a knife.
She came threshing up to me, grabbed the wire gimp, worked her hand up to the line and slashed it with the knife. Then she turned me over on my back, grabbed the slack of my shirt and began to tow me ashore, while the two on the bank cracked off an occasional shot to keep O'Dowda and Kermode low in the boat.
When we reached the bank Panda pulled me out and helped me to my feet and went round behind to cut my hands free.
'Brother,' she said, 'have you got a thing for water! Your old lady must have been a mermaid.'
Standing higher up the bank were Najib and Jimbo Alakwe, both with guns in their hands. Najib, neat and tidy in a dark grey suit, beaming at me; and Jimbo in red jeans and a loose yellow sweat shirt with a man's head printed on it in black, a shaggy-headed, craggy-faced man with the word Beethoven under it. He beamed at me, too, but only briefly, turning away to give the row-boat another shot.
My hands free, Panda gave me a wet smack on the bottom and said, 'Start running, handsome. Mamma show the way.'
She moved off up the bank. I followed, stumbling along, clumsy from loss of circulation, but now with enough interest in life to give more than a dull data-recording glance at her long brown, heavy-breasted figure clad only in briefs and brassiere. At the top of the bank she stooped and jerked up a track suit and kept running.
'Be with you soonest,' said Jimbo as we went by.
'Sooner,' said Najib, and, nodding at me, added, 'Good morning, Mr Carver.'
Panda took me through the trees, along a small path and finally out on to the open space behind the cottage. Parked short of the Rolls-Royce was their Thunderbird.
At the car she jerked the rear door open and reached inside for a couple of rugs.
'Come on, honey,' she said. 'Get that wet stuff off and wrap up in these. And, boy,' she warned, 'no tricks. No jerking any torch out of your pants and slugging me. Jeese, was that something disappointing to a girl for a man to produce.'
She half turned from me and began to slip out of her pants and bra and then slid into her track suit. I stripped, too, and wrapped myself in the blankets and she bundled me into the car just as Najib and Jimbo appeared, running.
As they went by the Rolls, Jimbo put a shot in each of the back tyres.
Five seconds later we were streaking down the château drive towards the main road and my teeth were chattering in my head like an electric typewriter going at speed.
Najib, next to Jimbo, who was driving, handed a flask back to Panda.
With a wink, she said, 'Ladies first — which almost means me.' She took a good swig and then handed the flask over.
I took a deep pull, and she said, 'Keep sucking, baby. We'll soon have you in a nice hot bath and Mamma will give you a friction rub afterwards. Whoof! Whoof!' She put her long arm around my shoulder and gave me a great she-bear hug.
Driving, Jimbo said, 'That millionaire man sure has a thing about fishing. Only time I ever did it was with hand grenades in the river at home. Remember that, Najib?'
If Najib did, he didn't consider it worth recording. He turned back to me and said, 'Did you tell them anything?'
I said, 'Another two seconds and I would have done. I wouldn't have believed water could be so cold.'
'Healthy, though,' said Panda. 'Early morning swim, wham, gets the old corpuscles stirring and ready for mischief.'
She leaned forward and tucked the blankets round my legs. She found her cigarettes and lit one for me, sticking it into my mouth and giving me a fat, almost motherly kiss on the cheek.
'Nice. Yum-yum,' she said, and to Najib added, 'Can I have him after you've finished?'
Najib said, 'Panda, for God's sake, throttle down.'
'She always like this?' I asked.
'Even in her sleep,' said Jimbo and chuckled to himself.
'I sure am,' said Panda unabashed. 'I've got over five hundred witnesses that'll testify.'
And from there, right to Geneva and Jimbo's flat she kept it up, ignored by the two in front. Her talk didn't trouble me too much. I had a lot to think about. But I had to fight off her long arms and hands occasionally as she checked now and then to see that I was comfortable inside the blankets and nicely warming up.