by Stuart Woods
“I’m hounded now; what’s the difference? At least I’ll have a life. They won’t catch me, Stone; they’ll have to find me first.”
“So you’re going to change your identity and hide out somewhere, give up who you are and worry every day about being caught. You don’t want to live as a fugitive, Allison, believe me.”
This seemed to have an effect. Tears welled up in her eyes, and when she reached for a tissue her hands trembled. “It’s better than dying on this godforsaken island,” she managed to say.
“They’ll think I helped you,” Stone said. “I’m an officer of the court, you know; I’m obliged to prevent you from committing another crime, and to attempt to escape is a crime.”
“You’ll talk your way out of it, Stone. After all, you didn’t suspect anything until now.”
“They won’t know that. They’ll know that I had a drink in the bar with the captain of that yacht and that we talked for quite a while, and that I went down and took a tour of the yacht.”
“Come with me, then; we’ll both get out of here.”
Stone shook his head. “I’m not going to become a party to a crime for you or anybody else, and I’m certainly not going to become a fugitive.” He stood up.
“Where are you going?” she asked, alarmed.
“I’m going to get as far away from you as I possibly can, although, in the circumstances, that’s not very far.”
“You’re going to turn me in, aren’t you?” she asked.
“Of course not; I’m not going to be the instrument of your death. I’m trying to save your life.” He turned to leave.
She stood up and grabbed him, turned him to her, and put her arms around his waist. “Don’t go,” she said. “Stay here with me; I’m so frightened.”
Stone disentangled himself from her arms. “I’m leaving right now. We won’t be seeing each other again, Allison.” He turned and started up the companionway before she could speak again.
He was furious. The stupid girl was jeopardizing them both, herself most of all, and there was not a damn thing he could do about it. At the top of the steps he looked toward the Shipwright’s Arms and saw three policemen striding across the lawn toward the marina. “Oh, shit!” he moaned, and ran back down the steps.
“What is it?” Allison asked.
Stone looked around the cabin for some place to hide her luggage. They’d look in the after cabin. “Quick, fix us a drink; the cops are coming.” He opened the door to the engine room and started tossing duffels down the steps.
Allison ran to the bar, got two glasses of ice, and poured some brown whiskey into both of them.
There was the sharp rap of a nightstick on the deck. “Ahoy, Expansive!” a deep voice called.
“Answer him!” Stone whispered, closing the engine room door and diving for the sofa.
“Hello!” Allison called back. She was halfway to the sofa with the drinks when the first policeman appeared on the stairs.
“Good afternoon,” the man said. “I am Colonel Buckler of the St. Marks police.” Two other officers crowded the companionway behind him.
“Good afternoon, Colonel,” Allison replied smoothly. “We were just having a drink; can I get you something?”
“No, ma’am, thank you,” the colonel said.
Stone stood up. “Colonel, I am Stone Barrington, Mrs. Manning’s lawyer. Is there something we can do for you?” He took a drink from Allison and sat down. Allison sat next to him. “Please,” he said to the policeman, “be seated.”
The policeman sat down gingerly at the chart table. “I understand Mrs. Manning has made some travel plans,” he said.
Stone looked at him blankly, then at Allison.
“Come again?” Allison said.
“I believe you have recently chartered a yacht,” the colonel said.
Allison waved an arm about her. “Colonel, I already have a yacht; why should I want to charter another one?”
“Colonel,” Stone said, “perhaps you could explain yourself?”
“Of course, Mr. Barrington,” the policeman replied. “Earlier this afternoon a very fast yacht berthed here and cleared customs, stating his intention of picking up a charter passenger. And you were seen, not half an hour ago, having a drink at the bar of the Shipwright’s Arms with that yacht’s captain, and then going aboard her.”
“That’s quite true, Colonel,” Stone said. “I met the man, whose name I believe is Sam, at the bar. I expressed an interest in his boat, and he was kind enough to offer me a tour. He said his charterer was a Mr. and Mrs. Chapman.”
“Come, come, Mr. Barrington, you are being disingenuous,” the policeman said.
“I assure you, I am not,” Stone replied firmly.
“Colonel,” Allison piped up, “why do you think I have anything to do with that yacht?”
“Yes, Colonel, why?” Stone asked.
“I am not a fool, Mr. Barrington,” the man said.
“Of course you aren’t,” Stone agreed. “But what, specifically, causes you to believe that Mrs. Manning has chartered the yacht? Have you spoken with the captain?”
“Not yet,” the man admitted.
“Well, when you do, I’m sure he will tell you what he told me, that someone else has chartered his yacht.”
“Oh, I will speak to him, Mr. Barrington; you may be sure of that.” He stood up. “In the meantime, Mrs. Manning is confined to this yacht and to the Shipwright’s Arms.”
Allison shrugged. “I’ve hardly left this yacht since I came to St. Marks, except at the insistence of Sir Winston Sutherland,” she said. “I don’t know why I would want to leave it now. You see, Colonel, I am quite looking forward to my trial and acquittal.”
“She is not to go to the airport or anywhere else on the island or to board any other yacht,” the colonel said, continuing to address Stone, “on pain of immediate arrest and close confinement.”
“I quite understand, Colonel,” Stone said, “and believe me, Mrs. Manning will follow your instructions to the letter.”
The policeman saluted them smartly and, herding his colleagues before him, went up the companionway.
Stone followed them partway and watched as they marched off toward the Race.
Chapter
40
Stone sat back down on the sofa and took a large swig of his drink. It turned out to be straight rum. “Jesus,” he said, coughing, “I was expecting Scotch or something.”
“I grabbed the first thing I saw,” she said, sitting beside him. “That man frightened me very badly.”
“I’m glad you still have the capacity for being frightened by something,” he replied. “He was on the point of jailing you, you know.”
“I believe you. What do I do now?”
“We’ve got to get that motor yacht out of English Harbour, that’s what. How did you go about chartering it?”
“I found an ad in an old yachting magazine we had aboard, and I called them. The money was wire-transferred from my Greenwich account.”
Stone looked at her in amazement. “And how the hell did you accomplish all that? You’ve hardly left this yacht, and I’ve never seen you use a phone.”
She got up, went to the chart table, opened a cupboard behind it, took out what looked like a laptop computer, and set it on the chart table.
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 phone 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 changed, they walked over to the Shipwright’s Arms, exchanging pleasantries with the two police officers now permanently established at the dockhead of the marina, with 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 said; 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 of English Harbour.”
“Perfect,” she said.
They followed Thomas to their table, passing that of Colonel 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 has not offered to change the terms of your confinement.”
“I don’t mind,” Allison said. “I’m as happy here 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.
Chapter
41
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?”
“Fucking Vance Calder.”
“Oh. Well, if she is, then that would make life easier for me, in a way.”
“Oh, Stone, you’re the perfect old-fashioned man.”
“How’s that?”
“You’d leave Arrington for fucking Vance Calder, but you wouldn’t want her to l
eave you for fucking me.”
“What I meant was, if she left me for Vance, I wouldn’t have to make a decision, she’d have made it for me. Also, I’d have some things to tell her.”
“You mean about me?”
Stone nodded. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about it until now, but he knew he would tell her.
“For God’s sake, why?”
“I guess I’m not as old-fashioned as you think—not your idea of old-fashioned, anyway.”
“Why, Stone, I believe you’re an honorable man.”
He felt his ears turning red, and he wondered why he was embarrassed. “If I were as honorable as you think, why would I be fucking you at all?”
She smiled. “It’s not your fault,” she said. “I simply made myself irresistible.”
“That you did.”
“Women can do that, you know—make themselves utterly irresistible.”
“Some women.”
“Thank you, kind sir. Do you know when I decided to seduce you? I mean, the very moment?”
“When?”
“When I was on the stand at the inquest.”
“Nonsense.”
She shook her head. “No, really. I was sitting there, and Sir Winston was making me absolutely furious, and I caught a glimpse of you sitting there.”
“You never looked at me.”
“I did. You were looking at Sir Winston. You see, after Paul’s death, I was alone for another two weeks, and I had a lot of time to get used to being a widow. I had a friend once who lost her husband; she was in her forties at the time. It took her months just to accept the idea that he was actually dead. She’d walk into his study, expecting to find him sitting there reading the newspaper. It wasn’t like that with me. I wasn’t distracted by a funeral, or by friends and relatives coming to call or by all the details of settling the estate. I was all alone, right there, in the place where he had been for so long, and he was dead. I think that after the first week I had accepted that completely. Then I started to get horny.”
Stone smiled. “I was angry with Arrington for not being here.”
“And that gave you an excuse to crawl into the sack with me.”
He nodded. “I guess it did.”
