Stuart Woods - Dead In The Water

Stone looked at the thing. "What is it?"

She opened it and displayed a telephone handset.

"A telephone?"

"A satellite telephone. The antenna is at the top of the mast."

"It works?"

"It certainly does. Would you like me to demonstrate?"

"Yes, please; call the broker and get that yacht out of here."

She plugged the unit into a jack near the chart table, switched it on, and waited. "It will seek a satellite," she said. A moment later, it beeped three times. She picked up the handset, consulted her address book, dialed a number, and pressed a button.

"Like a car phone," Stone said.

"Exactly, except it will work almost anywhere on the face of the earth." She put the phone to her ear.

"Hello, Fred? It's Allison Manning; I'm sorry to bother you at home. I have some new instructions for you. Yes, the yacht arrived, and now I have to get it out of here, for the moment."

"Tell him to have them leave around nine this evening," Stone said. "No sooner."

"Please call the yacht and have them depart the harbor at nine o'clock this evening. Tell them to go back to Guadeloupe and wait for my call. It may be a few days. What? Fred, you've already been paid. If I want the yacht to go to Guadeloupe and wait, then that's what they'll do. Right. Thank you so much." She pressed another button, breaking the connection. "There, it's done."

"And they have one of these on the other yacht?"

"Yes, or something like it."

Stone shook his head. "Technology is passing me by."

"Why nine o'clock?" she asked.

"Because you and I are going to be having dinner at the Shipwright's Arms at that time, in view of the whole world, or at least all St.Marks. We are going to appear relaxed and happy and unconcerned about the yacht's departure. Do you have a local phoned directory?"

She fished one out of the chart table.

Stone looked up a number and showed it to her. "Dial that for me, will you?"

She dialed the number and handed him the handset. "Hello, is that the St.Marks airport? Good. My name is Chapman; my wife and I are meeting a chartered yacht there, and I was told that I would have to get permission for my airplane to land at your airport; is that correct? Well, we plan to land around nine this evening, so I hope the runway is lit. What? Twenty-four hours? Why, that's outrageous! I can land at any other airport in the world on no notice at all! Well, in that case, I'll meet my yacht in Guadeloupe, and St.Marks will lose the money I would have spent there. No, no, don't apologize, I no longer wish to land at your airport. Good-bye!" He broke the connection and turned to Allison. "There, maybe that will give us some cover."

They waited until eight, then, freshly scrubbed and they walked over to the Shipwright's Arms, with the two police officers now established at the dock head of the marina, a full view of all the yachts there. They had a drink at the bar and chatted with Thomas for a while.

"Trouble down at the marina this afternoon?" Thomas asked when he was far enough away from the other patrons.

"A bit," Stone replied. "A Colonel Buckler showed up with two other cops and accused Allison of chartering the new yacht down there in order to escape the island."

"Buckler got a call here a little later," Thomas.said. "From Government House. I heard the name Chapman mentioned."

"Ah, Mr.Chapman; I'm told that he is the actual charterer of the yacht."

"I gathered from what I overheard that Mr.Chapman had tried to get permission to land his jet at the airport tonight and was turned down."

"Did you get that impression?" Stone said.

"I did. Buckler seemed confused. Buckler and his wife are at a table a few yards behind you, having dinner."

"Oh, good," Stone said.

"Why is that good?" Thomas asked.

"Because he'll get to see the yacht steam out of English Harbour, and he'll see Allison here with me. That might make him feel better."

"Good evening, Sir Winston," Thomas said suddenly. "Your table is ready."

Stone and Allison turned to see the minister of justice and his wife standing behind them.

"Good evening, Mrs.Manning," Sir Winston said. "Mr.Barrington."

"Good evening, Sir Winston," they both replied.

"Such a lovely evening," he said. "You wouldn't want to leave us on such a lovely evening, would you, Mrs.Manning?"

"Of course not," Allison said. Then she looked pointedly over his shoulder.

Sir Winston and his wife turned to follow her gaze. They saw the yacht Race back out of her berth and turn toward the entrance to English Harbour. She gave a couple of blasts on her horn.

"Such a beautiful yacht," Sir Winston sail; then he turned to his wife. "Shall we be seated, my dear?" They followed Thomas to their table.

Stone looked at his watch; a quarter to nine. "A little early," he said, "but perfectly timed."

"Look," Allison said, "Colonel Buckler sees her, tOO."

"I believe he does," Stone said with satisfaction.

Thomas returned to the bar. "He asked me if you'd made any phone calls from here since this afternoon."

"I'm glad you were able to tell him the truth," Stone said.

"I try always to tell Sir Winston the truth," Thomas said, "except when I lie to him."

"I hope you haven't had to tell too many lies for us, Thomas," Allison said.

"None that I didn't enjoy telling," Thomas replied with a grin. "Would you like to sit down now?"

"Please," Allison said. "And not too near Sir Winston if you please."

"I have a lovely table for you, one with a fine view English Harbour."

"Perfect," she said.

They followed Thomas to their table, passing that of Buckler on their way. Allison gave him a smile, and Stone nodded pleasantly.

"Did the phone call from Chapman work?" Allison asked when they were seated.

"Maybe," Stone said. "Although Colonel Buckler not offered to change the terms of your confinement."

"I don't mind," Allison said. "I'm as happy, ere as anywhere on the island."

"Just see that you don't get onto any other boats, not even mine," Stone said. "And for God's sake, don't go anywhere near the airport."

"I'll be good," Allison promised.

They took their time over dinner, talking like old friends and lovers. They had champagne with their fish, and, as always, the wine was an exhilarant, making them laugh easily. They emptied the place, outlasting Sir Winston and Colonel Buckler, as well as the rest of the crowd. Thomas brought them cognac at the end of the meal, and they nursed it past midnight.

There was a lull in the conversation, and Stone asked a question. "Allison, what are you going to do with yourself when this is all over?" He regretted it immediately, but to his surprise, she answered him as if she would not be on trial for her life in a short time.

"Gosh, I really haven't looked all that far ahead," she said. "I've sold the house-it's under contract now-so I guess the first thing I'll do is go back to Greenwich and start getting ready to move out."

"Where do you think you'll go?"

"Oh," she murmured, "I was thinking maybe New York. Would you be glad to see me there, conveniently located, as it were?"

He felt a little stab in the chest; after all, Arrington would soon be back from California. "Of course I'd be glad to see you," he said, after perhaps too long a pause.

"Oh, yes, there is the other woman, isn't there? What are your intentions, sir, if I may ask?"

"I don't honestly know," he replied, and it was the truth.

Allison leaned forward on her elbows. "Do you think she's fucking Vance Calder?"

Stone shrugged. "She's had the opportunity before, and she says she never did, never thought of him as anything but a friend."

"I would be," Allison said.

"Would be what?"