Angel of Destruction

by Christopher Nicole

  ‘Perhaps later. Let’s move.’

  She went up to the bridge, started the engines. That brought Billy out of the cabin. He had taken off his socks but still wore his tie, and absurdly, had rolled his pants up to his knees as if about to go wading on Blackpool beach, especially as he was still wearing his hat. But that was probably a good idea, if it stayed on; at three o’clock the sun was at its hottest.

  He stood on the after deck to watch Tommy taking in the fenders as the boat glided away from the dock. ‘Who’s driving this thing?’

  ‘The boss always helms,’ Tommy explained.

  ‘The boss?’ Billy looked up to the flying bridge, where Anna was seated on the bench, Clive beside her.

  ‘You’re welcome to come up, Mr Baxter,’ Anna called. ‘It’s quite safe,’ she assured him. ‘Although it would be a good idea to hold on, certainly when using the ladder.’

  He came up slowly, collapsed on to the bench beside Clive, taking deep breaths, while Anna threaded her way through the moorings. ‘You really know how to handle this thing?’

  ‘Billy,’ Clive said, ‘You are liable to wind up swimming, whether you feel like it or not.’

  ‘Just asking. What about all those dials and switches? Do you understand them all?’

  ‘If I didn’t, we could be in trouble.’

  He gazed left and right as they emerged into the harbour, and Anna as usual turned east. ‘I must say,’ he remarked. ‘This is a lovely spot. So peaceful, unhurried.’

  ‘It’s had its moments,’ Anna reminded him. ‘Every generation or so, something happens to bring it to life. Then it slips back again.’

  ‘It could happen again, quite soon,’ Clive suggested.

  ‘How do you figure that? Or are the Americans bringing back Prohibition?’

  ‘I don’t think they’re that stupid. But have you never wondered why a place this beautiful and only a few miles from the mainland isn’t an American playground, like Miami?’

  ‘Simply because the dollar doesn’t go as far here as it does on the mainland.’

  ‘Spot on. But what do you think would happen if the pound were to collapse?’

  ‘Is that likely?’

  ‘British finances are in such a state it well could.’

  ‘I would have thought,’ Baxter remarked. ‘That with your millions, international finance would be important to you.’

  ‘My millions,’ Anna replied, ‘are in the hands of my accountants. I let them worry about international finance.’

  ‘You must have enormous faith in them.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘Perhaps you could tell me their name?’

  ‘Will you tell me the name of yours?’

  ‘My dear girl, on my salary, I do my own accounts.’

  ‘Then it won’t do you any good to know the name of mine.’ They were now through the narrows and out into the open sea. Anna pushed the throttles forward to increase speed, checked her course, and made sure there were no other boats in the vicinity. Then she engaged the autopilot. ‘I’ll be back in a few minutes.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘I just need to call the cay and tell them we’ve an extra guest.’

  ‘You have a radio on the cay?’ Billy asked.

  ‘Of course I do. Two, HF and VHF. The HF has a range of four thousand miles, so you see, Mr Baxter, next time you feel the need of a chat, you can call me up instead of coming all this way. I’ll give you the wavelength.’

  ‘But who’s going to steer the boat?’

  ‘His name is George.’ She swung her legs over the seat and slid down the ladder.

  ‘Some woman,’ Billy remarked. ‘Is she always as spiky as this?’

  ‘She can be, when she’s upset. Didn’t you notice that when you saw her that time in Stockholm? You told me that she opened the door of her hotel room for you with a gun in her hand?’

  ‘Well, yes. But circumstances were different. She thought I might be a villain.’

  ‘Ah,’ Clive commented.

  *

  They docked just after six, with the sun hovering above the western horizon, and the light beginning to fade into the brief tropical twilight.

  Baxter emerged from the fore cabin, having resumed his socks and carrying his shoes in his hand, as well, of course, as his attaché case. ‘That was most enjoyable, Anna. I do congratulate you on your handling of the boat.’

  ‘Why, thank you, Mr Baxter.’ Anna had also been below to pick up her hat and gloves and handbag, and also carried her shoes in her hand. ‘Now, please don’t leave the boat until I tell you it’s safe to do so.’

  ‘Eh?’

  Anna pointed at the two huge white shapes galloping down the path to the dock.

  ‘My God! What are those?’

  ‘My Dogos.’

  ‘Eh?’

  ‘Argentinian hunting dogs.’ Clive had joined them. ‘Just about the fiercest canines in existence.’

  ‘Don’t panic.’ Anna stepped ashore. ‘They only eat people when I tell them to. But they’re still only two years old and are inclined to be frisky.’

  The dogs surrounded her, licking her hands, having their heads rubbed. ‘Now listen very carefully,’ she said. ‘These gentlemen are my friends. Actually, I should think they remember you, Clive. They have long memories. You come first.’

  ‘Good luck,’ Billy muttered, as Clive stepped ashore, and stood beside Anna.

  ‘Hello, old fellows,’ he said.

  The dogs gurgled.

  ‘Stroke their heads,’ Anna commanded. ‘See, they do remember you.’

  Jupiter was licking his hand.

  ‘Now, Mr Baxter.’

  Visibly holding his breath, Billy stepped ashore, carrying his briefcase and his shoes in front of him like shields.

  ‘Friend,’ Anna said again. ‘This is Jupiter, and this is Juno. Stroke their heads.’

  Tentatively, Billy put down his shoes and extended his hand, and was rewarded with a low growl.

  ‘No, no,’ Anna said. ‘They can smell fear, and hostility. Be positive. They’re your friends, remember?’

  Billy took a deep breath and gave Jupiter a vigorous stroke. This time his reward was to have his hand licked.

  ‘There,’ Anna said. ‘That wasn’t so bad, was it? Now, you’d better put your shoes on for the walk up to the house.’

  Clive was already doing so.

  ‘You want these drums taken up now, Miss Anna?’ Tommy asked, having connected the shore supply.

  ‘They can wait until tomorrow morning. But you’d better take the groceries up. Pass the cases over, first.’

  Clive and Billy took delivery of their suitcases.

  ‘What are in those drums, anyway?’ Billy asked. ‘It’s a very strong smell.’

  ‘Chlorine,’ Anna told him. ‘For purifying our water supply. It is strong stuff, yes; a drop on your clothing will go right through it.’

  ‘And you put it in your fresh water?’

  ‘It’s essential. Don’t worry, only the faintest taste gets through the filters, and that’s preferable to bugs.’

  They followed her up the path towards the lights, Billy looking left and right into the gathering gloom. ‘Strange,’ he commented. ‘The wind feels quite light, yet it sounds almost like a gale.’

  ‘That’s the casuarina trees. The slightest breeze sets them rustling. Mind Isis.’

  ‘Eh?’ He stared at the large black lump that was sitting in the centre of the path. ‘My God! What’s that?’

  ‘My cat. Isis. She was the most powerful of all the Egyptian goddesses, called the Great Enchantress. Even Anubis, the god of the dead, was subject to her decisions. I think that’s rather appropriate, don’t you?’

  As Billy was not up on Egyptian mythology, that failed to register. But he said, ‘I’m allergic to cats.’

  Anna had already picked Isis up for a cuddle; the sound of purring rose above even that of the casuarinas. ‘Then I suggest you keep your bedroom door closed at all times
. She does like to nestle in beds, whether they are occupied or not.’ She carried Isis up the steps and placed her on the veranda floor, embraced her mother and father.

  ‘You remember Clive.’

  ‘Of course. Welcome back, Clive.’ Johann shook hands and Jane presented her cheek for a kiss.

  ‘And this is Mr Baxter. You should remember him as well.’

  ‘Certainly,’ Jane said. ‘We met when we first got to England.’ She extended her hand. ‘Welcome to Fair Cay, Mr Baxter.’

  He clasped her fingers. ‘My pleasure, Mrs Fehrbach. Mr Fehrbach. Some set-up you have here.’

  ‘It’s Anna’s,’ Johann said proudly. ‘The place and the set-up.’

  ‘I’ll show you up to your rooms,’ Anna said. ‘Papa . . .?’

  He nodded. ‘I’ll open the champagne.’

  *

  ‘He’s in a bit of a whirl,’ Clive explained, somewhat hesitantly carrying his suitcase into Anna’s bedroom, as indicated.

  ‘So he should be.’ She had managed a quick word with her mother, and been reassured that, at least so far as Jane had noticed, there had been no visitors and no suspicious craft in the vicinity of the cay, either.

  He placed the suitcase on the floor, and she was in his arms. ‘It seems to get longer every time.’

  He kissed her forehead, her ears, her eyes, her nose and her chin, before settling on her mouth for some moments, while his hands roamed over her back, from her shoulders down to her buttocks. She was doing some roaming of her own, content to remain where she was until he said, ‘As I get some more grey hairs every time I think of you . . .’

  She released him, went to the dressing table to take off her bandanna and run a comb through her hair. ‘You know the deal.’

  ‘Does it last forever?’

  ‘I hope not. I’m working on it. But you know, it’s not a matter of snapping my fingers. Even if I could drop the CIA, with all the financial restrictions that are in place, transferring funds is not the easiest thing in the world. So all my money is in their hands as well, because they can do things with it that I can’t, without risking prosecution.’

  He considered. ‘Does this sterling crisis bother you?’

  ‘Not really. I don’t think I have much invested in the sterling area. But I suppose that in itself is an irregularity.’

  ‘You don’t think? Don’t you have any control over your capital at all?’

  ‘Of course I do. My accountant is coming down in a couple of weeks for our twice-yearly get together. If there is anything I want or require over the norm he sees that I get it.’ She gave one of her wicked smiles. ‘He also pays me what I’m owed by the US Government. Right this minute they owe me quite a lot.’

  ‘You mean, for this Mexican job.’

  ‘Well . . .’

  He held her hands. ‘Anna, you do realize that one day you are going to make a mistake. And in your business . . .’

  ‘One mistake will be the end. It’s up to me to put off making it until the very last minute.’ Another smile. ‘Because that will be, the very last minute. For me.’

  He sighed. ‘You are incorrigible. Do you honestly not care whether you live or die? Do you honestly not fear death?’

  ‘I care, Clive. I care that I should be the most efficient in the world at my job. As long as I am that, I’m safe. As for fearing death, when I start doing that, I’m done.’

  ‘And this problem you have. I know you have something on your mind. That doesn’t worry you?’

  ‘Yes, it worries me. But not for myself. For my parents, my people here, my pets. My island. They are all I have in the world. All I want in the world.’ She kissed him. ‘Apart from you, of course. Anyway, the problem will be taken care of. I hope.’

  ‘By the CIA?’

  ‘They’re calling the shots, right now.’ She went to the door. ‘There’s Veuve Clicquot waiting downstairs, and I can guarantee you a superb dinner.’

  *

  After the meal, she spent ten minutes in the radio room, having locked the door so that she could not be interrupted. But nothing came through, and she had to accept that she was being overanxious; she had sent her telegram after one that afternoon. Even nine hours was hardly time for Joe to have considered the matter and come to a conclusion as to what to do about it, especially as she had been unable to specify in the wire just what she needed help with; the problem with the radio link was that it had not been considered necessary for her to have a call sign of her own, only for her American masters to be able to call her to set up a meeting, and a contract, where and when she was required.

  But this situation had not arisen before. She had not been lying to Clive when she had told him that she was not personally afraid of any adversary; she had no doubt she could handle any situation that might arise. But the thought of there being any danger to her loved ones was distressing. And even if she could avoid that, if there was any trouble on the cay, especially if it involved shooting, it would certainly get back to Nassau and have the police investigating; the thought that this idyllic lifestyle she had set up for herself, and her mother and father, could be ended, or even interfered with, was even more distressing.

  She sighed, and closed down the set. There was no point in brooding when she could do nothing to alleviate the situation. So, forget about it until tomorrow. In the meantime . . . Clive was sitting on the bed, naked, stroking Isis. ‘You don’t look a happy bunny,’ he remarked.

  ‘I’m happy here with you,’ she reminded him, and went into the bathroom to remove her make-up and clean her teeth. ‘Nothing else matters.’ She undressed. ‘Would you mind using the other side of the bed, Isis? Just for the next couple of hours.’

  The cat obediently made a nest for herself on the other pillow. Anna pushed Clive on to his back and sat astride his thighs. ‘I need an awful lot of loving tonight.’ She felt him rising between her legs, and leaned forward to kiss him, hair drooping to either side of her face.

  *

  When she awoke, as always at first light, he was still fast asleep, which did not surprise her as they had climaxed together three times; she had actually had five orgasms but she reckoned the night had taken more out of him.

  And during the night, they had also celebrated her birthday. That meant it was just over eleven years since she had first been commanded to take a life. Had there ever been a young girl named Annaliese Fehrbach before then? Or had the Countess von Widerstand sprung, fully formed and ferociously fatal to her enemies, from the pit of Hell?

  She decided to let Clive sleep, along with Isis, who had also necessarily had a disturbed night, about which she had complained bitterly, and without bothering to dress, went down to the gym and worked out vigorously for half an hour. The whole house was still asleep, so she decided to leave her usual shooting practice until later; she was, in any event, running short of cartridges, which were supplied for her, in bulk, by her CIA contact in Miami, as and when necessary. She thought the moment they could unload Baxter and solve the strange lady problem, it would be fun to take Clive across for a night on the town and pick up what she needed.

  Feeling absolutely rejuvenated and full of energy, she went down to the pool, being joined by the dogs, who slept on the veranda, and the three of them swam up and down a few times. She was at the far end when a familiar voice said, ‘Am I interrupting?’

  She turned on to her back. Billy was, as always, dressed as if for a London office, even wearing a tie, although not his jacket. ‘Why, Mr Baxter,’ she said. ‘Of course you’re not interrupting. Did you sleep well?’

  ‘Like a log.’

  ‘Then come on in.’

  ‘Ah . . .’ As she was on her back, moving her arms and legs to keep afloat, it was slowly dawning on him that she was naked. ‘I really don’t think . . . I mean, I do beg your pardon. I had no idea . . . I’ll come back later, shall I?’

  She turned over and stroked her way towards him. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve come to the Bahamas without a swim
suit? But it doesn’t really matter. I never wear one.’

  ‘The thing is,’ he said, ‘I really would like to have a word with you, in private. Perhaps when you’re ah . . .’

  ‘There’s no time like the present.’ Having got him firmly on the defensive, she intended to keep him there, and having reached the steps, walked up them, water streaming from her hair, dripping from her nipples and pubes, rolling down her legs. ‘Mind yourself.’

  ‘Eh?’ Already retreating as if expecting an imminent assault, he was overtaken by a cascade of water as the two dogs, having followed her, emerged from the pool and shook themselves.

  ‘There you go,’ Anna said. ‘It is far better to be naked around here.’

  ‘I must change,’ he spluttered.

  ‘You’ll dry,’ Anna pointed out. ‘And if you wish to speak with me in private, now is your best time.’

  ‘Haven’t you got a towel?’

  ‘I’ll dry as well, given time.’

  He gulped; the sun was already high enough to be warming the air, but it remained sufficiently cool to keep her nipples proud. Cautiously he lowered himself into a chair on the other side of the table. This was wet, but then, so were his pants.

  Anna stood beneath the fresh water shower and rinsed her hair, then snapped her fingers to be joined by the dogs, who were thoroughly washed with shampoo. ‘Must get the salt off,’ she explained, ‘or they get sores.’

  Billy watched her in fascination; he was not interested in the dogs. Satisfied, Anna let them go, then sat opposite him, crossing her legs and squeezing water from her hair. The dogs were now rolling in the grass. ‘I understand that today is your birthday.’

  ‘How sweet of you to remember.’

  ‘So . . . many happy returns.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Twenty-nine, is it?’

  ‘You mean you’re still keeping a file on me?’

  ‘It goes with the job. This is quite a place you have here,’ he remarked.

  ‘It is my dream come true. And I know that you, MI6, played a part in getting me here. I’m grateful, believe me.’

  ‘Well, we are very happy to see you settled. To know that you have turned your back on the dreadful business of killing to order.’