Deadly Impact--A Richard Mariner nautical adventure by Peter Tonkin Page A

His tie was slightly askew and the fact that he had tied it in a full Windsor knot was clearly a mistake, given his choice of shirt and collar. The size of his collar was, indeed, another miscalculation, given the thickness of his short neck, the number of his chins and the way his jowls were maturing.
    There had been a wife somewhere in the picture the last time they had met, Robin recalled. She was clearly gone now – or as good as. No self-respecting woman would let a man she cared about go out in this state. And perhaps she had better mention that to Richard at their next contact – which should be happening soon, she thought with a frown. For the woman who so clearly no longer cared for Tristan was the source of his fortune. Daughter of a shipping magnate from … Greece, was it? No, from Italy; somewhere in the south. Calabria, was it …?
    â€˜Lovely to see you, darling,’ he said, subsiding and cutting into her thoughts with a nasal drawl. He waved a hand once more and seemed surprised to discover there was an empty wine glass in it. ‘Good of you to come. Mario, another bottle of this
Brunello di Montalcino
, there’s a good chap. And, for the lady … Ah, Robin? A …
a pair o’ teeth
?’ Tristan emptied the bottle into his glass, much to Mario’s disapproval, and waved the empty in the air.
    It took just a moment for his meaning to register. ‘
Aperitif
? Yes, of course. Prosecco, please.’
    â€˜We have the
Colle del Principe
, madame …’ the maître d’ offered, without bothering to call the wine waiter or his boss the sommelier. It was hardly surprisingly – the place was packed and heaving. Patrons were dressed in everything from black ties to T-shirts; Robin and Tristan were by no means out of place.
    â€˜Perfect. A glass …’
    â€˜Oh, bring the
bottle
, Mario. And that’s the
2004 Brunello
, d’ya hear?’
    â€˜Of course,’ said Marco, in a voice that would have frozen
gellate
.
    â€˜So, Tristan,’ asked Robin, her tone dangerously silky and her voice only a little warmer than Mario’s. ‘What’s the panic?’
    â€˜Panic?’ Robin’s host jumped as though she had stabbed him. Wine slopped out of his glass and ran over his hands like blood. ‘Oh! I see what you mean … No. There’s no
panic
. Just a little … failure of communication
.
’
    â€˜Between whom? About what?’ asked Robin as the maître d’ sent the sommelier into the firing line after all with Tristan’s
Brunello di Montalcino 2004
and Robin’s
Colle del Principe.
‘And what has it got to do with Richard or with me?’
    â€˜Ah. Well, thereby hangs a tale, you see …’ Tristan rumbled, frowning over the length of time it was taking to get to his bottle.
    â€˜I’m all ears, Tristan,’ prompted Robin, sipping the icy Prosecco.
    â€˜Well, as one of the chaps at the centre of the insurance – and reinsurance of
Sayonara
, I was asked to arrange a little test of security …’
    â€˜I see,’ said Robin, suspecting what was coming at once, or the start of it at any rate. Had Richard been sitting in this chair, she knew, he would have taken up the story like Sherlock Holmes.
So you asked around and someone recommended a bunch of chaps who could really test out
Sayonara
’s defences. And you arranged to send them aboard …
    â€˜â€¦ rounded up this bunch of chaps to go aboard and test the defences out, so to speak, and sent them up to Hawadax Island, in the Aleutians. Place called Rat Island Pass. Convenient for boarding, apparently… .’
    â€˜That’s right,’ said Robin. ‘They went aboard earlier.’
    Tristan jumped again. More blood-red wine slopped over his hands.
    â€˜You don’t say so?’ Tristan sounded relieved, and looked as though he had won the lottery.
    So that was what this was about,