know what you’re talking about.”
“DuShane, darling. I know what you tried with Samir.”
“How do you know these things?”
“I snooped in your briefcase on the jet when you went to sleep.”
“There was nothing in my briefcase.”
“There was a planned experiment for this afternoon on a macaque with a body weight of 240 pounds.”
“Maybe a young gorilla.”
“Okay.”
“You knew it was Samir Aziz?”
“Of course.”
“Just how did you know?”
“Jacques’s secretary booked a hotel reservation for him. He weighs about 240 pounds. We don’t have any young gorillas. They don’t stay in hotels.”
The phone rang.
Even in Kuching there was a screening computer on his phone system that would not allow a call unless the computer recognized the phone number of the caller or unless the caller knew a code. He picked up the phone.
“Yes.”
It was Roberto, insisting that Chellis hear the story of Anna Wade’s tumble into the saltwater rapids. Chellis could feel himself being dragged into something and he didn’t like it.
“Are you certain the scrambler is on?”
“Yes, we checked.”
Roberto told the story twice, repeating each and every detail and taxing Chellis’s patience.
“Get the CD back or make sure it’s gone for good.” Chellis interrupted when Roberto tried to respond. “If she had an accident, that would be ...”
“Yes, an accident,” Roberto said.
“And don’t forget who you are dealing with here. Even in Canada this won’t go away quickly if something else happens to her.”
“The currents here are fierce.”
Immediately after he hung up Chellis knew he had made a mistake. This was happening too fast. He shouldn’t be involved directly with this.
Four
While fidgeting for the want of another smoke and on the verge of surrendering to Anna temporarily, Sam heard the splash—a body hitting the water? He ran to the stateroom and tried the door. Locked.
Damn it. She had climbed out of the hatch.
Harry barked and ran to the companionway. Sam jumped over Harry and hit the third stair and one other before making the top. He dashed through the wheelhouse and made the aft deck in three strides.
No rubber boat.
“It leaks!” he shouted. “Come back. It’s dangerous.”
“Help me.” In the wind he heard nothing more. With only a piece of his rudder it would be difficult to drive the boat after her and there was no time to pull anchor or don a dry suit. He had seconds to decide. He could feel himself drawn into the old life as surely as his boat had been drawn into that wave. His mind sat on a high wire, contemplating the possible opposing forces, the risk of falling and losing what little peace he had left. His son was dead. His hero days were over. On the other hand, dying might just be easier than living.
“Damn her.”
Reaching under a hinged seat, he grabbed a life jacket. For a second he rummaged around until he found a large waterproof light that he snapped to a ring on the jacket. Then he thought about the drag and figured he could make shore without the jacket, so he snapped the light to a belt loop instead. He had to move fast and catch her before she got headed in the wrong direction. If she missed the point, about two hundred yards off, she would no doubt drown. Dumb woman.
Harry whined.
He needed waterproof matches. She was getting too far away. Taking off his topsiders, he tied the rawhide laces into his belt loops so he could swim with bare feet. “Stay, Harry.” Then he dived neatly over the lifelines and as his head emerged, gasped from the frigid water. He forced himself to focus, creating a perfect rhythm to his stroke that melded with his breathing, losing himself in motion. He imagined himself in a pool and thought of his mind as a warm light that retreated deep within. Soon the cold was far away. Clouds drifted, but he was sure he found the North Star and kept it a bit to his right.
Every third stroke he saw the trees of the ridge
“DuShane, darling. I know what you tried with Samir.”
“How do you know these things?”
“I snooped in your briefcase on the jet when you went to sleep.”
“There was nothing in my briefcase.”
“There was a planned experiment for this afternoon on a macaque with a body weight of 240 pounds.”
“Maybe a young gorilla.”
“Okay.”
“You knew it was Samir Aziz?”
“Of course.”
“Just how did you know?”
“Jacques’s secretary booked a hotel reservation for him. He weighs about 240 pounds. We don’t have any young gorillas. They don’t stay in hotels.”
The phone rang.
Even in Kuching there was a screening computer on his phone system that would not allow a call unless the computer recognized the phone number of the caller or unless the caller knew a code. He picked up the phone.
“Yes.”
It was Roberto, insisting that Chellis hear the story of Anna Wade’s tumble into the saltwater rapids. Chellis could feel himself being dragged into something and he didn’t like it.
“Are you certain the scrambler is on?”
“Yes, we checked.”
Roberto told the story twice, repeating each and every detail and taxing Chellis’s patience.
“Get the CD back or make sure it’s gone for good.” Chellis interrupted when Roberto tried to respond. “If she had an accident, that would be ...”
“Yes, an accident,” Roberto said.
“And don’t forget who you are dealing with here. Even in Canada this won’t go away quickly if something else happens to her.”
“The currents here are fierce.”
Immediately after he hung up Chellis knew he had made a mistake. This was happening too fast. He shouldn’t be involved directly with this.
Four
While fidgeting for the want of another smoke and on the verge of surrendering to Anna temporarily, Sam heard the splash—a body hitting the water? He ran to the stateroom and tried the door. Locked.
Damn it. She had climbed out of the hatch.
Harry barked and ran to the companionway. Sam jumped over Harry and hit the third stair and one other before making the top. He dashed through the wheelhouse and made the aft deck in three strides.
No rubber boat.
“It leaks!” he shouted. “Come back. It’s dangerous.”
“Help me.” In the wind he heard nothing more. With only a piece of his rudder it would be difficult to drive the boat after her and there was no time to pull anchor or don a dry suit. He had seconds to decide. He could feel himself drawn into the old life as surely as his boat had been drawn into that wave. His mind sat on a high wire, contemplating the possible opposing forces, the risk of falling and losing what little peace he had left. His son was dead. His hero days were over. On the other hand, dying might just be easier than living.
“Damn her.”
Reaching under a hinged seat, he grabbed a life jacket. For a second he rummaged around until he found a large waterproof light that he snapped to a ring on the jacket. Then he thought about the drag and figured he could make shore without the jacket, so he snapped the light to a belt loop instead. He had to move fast and catch her before she got headed in the wrong direction. If she missed the point, about two hundred yards off, she would no doubt drown. Dumb woman.
Harry whined.
He needed waterproof matches. She was getting too far away. Taking off his topsiders, he tied the rawhide laces into his belt loops so he could swim with bare feet. “Stay, Harry.” Then he dived neatly over the lifelines and as his head emerged, gasped from the frigid water. He forced himself to focus, creating a perfect rhythm to his stroke that melded with his breathing, losing himself in motion. He imagined himself in a pool and thought of his mind as a warm light that retreated deep within. Soon the cold was far away. Clouds drifted, but he was sure he found the North Star and kept it a bit to his right.
Every third stroke he saw the trees of the ridge
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