angry with myself for being so stupid. I didn't hear her enter, but when lightning flickered out to sea, it pulled Simone out of the darkness by the window. I didn't say a word; simply stood up and walked toward her. Her dress was soaked and clung to her body like a second skin. I started to unbutton it.
"What were his orders?" I said. "Anything I wanted? Anything to keep me happy?"
"Damn you to hell!" She struck me across the face, struggling in my grasp. "Justin came and told him what happened a little while ago. She could have been killed. Your sister could have been killed. He means it, you fool. Every word of it. Don't you understand that?"
My fingers were busy with the last few buttons. I peeled the wet dress away gently and dropped it to the floor. She started to cry violently, collapsing into my arms.
"It's all right," I said, gentling her. "Everything's going to be all right."
She came to bed with me then with no further fuss and cried for a long time as she lay there in the dark in my arms, although whether for me or for herself, or for both of us, was not made plain.
Finally she fell asleep, her head on my chest, and I lay there holding her, watching the lightning flicker on the horizon, trying to decide in my own mind just exactly how I intended to kill Dimitri Stavrou when the time came.
4
Rain on the Dead
T he Cessna was moored to a couple of buoys in the horseshoe bay at the foot of the cliffs beneath the villa. It was reached by a winding dirt road and Moro took me down there in a Landrover just before nine.
It was a poor sort of day, heavy gray clouds dropping in over the cliffs, mist rolling off the sea, pushing rain before it. Bonetti waited at the wheel of a speedboat moored beside the stone jetty, the engine already ticking over and Justin Langley stood on the edge, smoking a cigarette and looking out to sea. He turned as I approached, a slightly theatrical figure in his fur-lined boots and old flying jacket.
As I got out of the Landrover I said, "I just bet you've got a shoulder holster inside that thing, too. What are we playing this morning? Dawn Patrol?"
He smiled good-humoredly. "Now don't be like that, old stick. After all, you are in my hands, so to speak."
"Well, don't forget I'm precious cargo." I looked out at the mist rolling in through the entrance. "What about the weather?"
"The weather?" He squinted up into the rain. "Well, that's something that's always with us, isn't it? Like death. Now if you would kindly get into the boat, maybe we could get started. I've a little business myself in Palermo I'd like to fit in if there's time."
"I just bet you have," I said. "What is he--blond or brunette?"
That languid smile of his was wiped clean and for a moment there was murder in the eyes. Stupid of me under the circumstances, but it was done now. I brushed past him and went down the steps to the speedboat. He followed me, cast off, and Bonetti took us out to the Cessna.
When we reached her, I scrambled out first onto the nearest float, climbed into the cabin and buckled myself into the passenger seat. There was a moment's delay before Langley followed me. The speedboat sheered off and he went through the usual routine check and started the engine. Everything sounded fine.
He turned and smiled. "All right, old stick?"
"I don't see why not," I said, although I suppose I should have known better.
"Good," he said and started to taxi downwind slowly, leaning out of the window, peering into the mist.
And then quite suddenly, he gave it everything it had, and we were away, lifting far too soon. The nose dropped, but he'd enough sense not to pull back on the stick until he had the power.
We roared across the harbor no more than twenty feet above the water straight into that wall of mist and then the engine note deepened and he started to climb at just the right moment.
We came up out of the mist through dirty white cloud, rain rattling against the windscreen. He took a cigarette from
"What were his orders?" I said. "Anything I wanted? Anything to keep me happy?"
"Damn you to hell!" She struck me across the face, struggling in my grasp. "Justin came and told him what happened a little while ago. She could have been killed. Your sister could have been killed. He means it, you fool. Every word of it. Don't you understand that?"
My fingers were busy with the last few buttons. I peeled the wet dress away gently and dropped it to the floor. She started to cry violently, collapsing into my arms.
"It's all right," I said, gentling her. "Everything's going to be all right."
She came to bed with me then with no further fuss and cried for a long time as she lay there in the dark in my arms, although whether for me or for herself, or for both of us, was not made plain.
Finally she fell asleep, her head on my chest, and I lay there holding her, watching the lightning flicker on the horizon, trying to decide in my own mind just exactly how I intended to kill Dimitri Stavrou when the time came.
4
Rain on the Dead
T he Cessna was moored to a couple of buoys in the horseshoe bay at the foot of the cliffs beneath the villa. It was reached by a winding dirt road and Moro took me down there in a Landrover just before nine.
It was a poor sort of day, heavy gray clouds dropping in over the cliffs, mist rolling off the sea, pushing rain before it. Bonetti waited at the wheel of a speedboat moored beside the stone jetty, the engine already ticking over and Justin Langley stood on the edge, smoking a cigarette and looking out to sea. He turned as I approached, a slightly theatrical figure in his fur-lined boots and old flying jacket.
As I got out of the Landrover I said, "I just bet you've got a shoulder holster inside that thing, too. What are we playing this morning? Dawn Patrol?"
He smiled good-humoredly. "Now don't be like that, old stick. After all, you are in my hands, so to speak."
"Well, don't forget I'm precious cargo." I looked out at the mist rolling in through the entrance. "What about the weather?"
"The weather?" He squinted up into the rain. "Well, that's something that's always with us, isn't it? Like death. Now if you would kindly get into the boat, maybe we could get started. I've a little business myself in Palermo I'd like to fit in if there's time."
"I just bet you have," I said. "What is he--blond or brunette?"
That languid smile of his was wiped clean and for a moment there was murder in the eyes. Stupid of me under the circumstances, but it was done now. I brushed past him and went down the steps to the speedboat. He followed me, cast off, and Bonetti took us out to the Cessna.
When we reached her, I scrambled out first onto the nearest float, climbed into the cabin and buckled myself into the passenger seat. There was a moment's delay before Langley followed me. The speedboat sheered off and he went through the usual routine check and started the engine. Everything sounded fine.
He turned and smiled. "All right, old stick?"
"I don't see why not," I said, although I suppose I should have known better.
"Good," he said and started to taxi downwind slowly, leaning out of the window, peering into the mist.
And then quite suddenly, he gave it everything it had, and we were away, lifting far too soon. The nose dropped, but he'd enough sense not to pull back on the stick until he had the power.
We roared across the harbor no more than twenty feet above the water straight into that wall of mist and then the engine note deepened and he started to climb at just the right moment.
We came up out of the mist through dirty white cloud, rain rattling against the windscreen. He took a cigarette from
Similar Books
