7
The boat cut slowly through the sheltered waters of the bay, expertly guided by Eric. It was a sleek white sports fishing craft, about thirty feet long, with a cockpit aft, a raised bridge and a foredeck. Eric steered towards the sun, slowly sinking behind the wooded ridge of Mill Neck. The evening was lovely, the freshest for weeks. There had been a storm the night before that had cleared the muck and humidity out of the air, leaving a clear sky with little puffs of cloud and a gentle breeze. The end of the sweltering summer was near; September was only a week away.
The tensions of the training programme were gone, as everyone tucked into the alcoholic supplies they had brought with them. There were coolers of beer, and Lenka and Alex had managed to bring the ingredients for margaritas. Everyone had changed into jeans and T-shirts, and left their suits down below. Even Duncan was relaxed, and while he and Lenka didn't talk to each other, they didn't actually scowl at each other, either.
Chris took three bottles of beer up from the cockpit to the bridge, where Eric was at the wheel. Megan was sitting next to him, wearing faded jeans and an old blue sweater, her dark hair blowing over her face.
Chris opened the bottles and passed them round. Megan made room for him to sit with them. It was a peaceful evening. Cormorants darted low over the grey water, streaked with reds and orange from the setting sun. This finger of Oyster Bay stretched a couple of miles inland; on all sides were quiet low hills covered with trees, and secluded mansions with the occasional dock reaching out into the bay. Boats big and small were moored all around, from tiny fishing vessels to ocean-going yachts.
'This was a great idea,' Chris said.
'I hope so,' said Eric. 'I like it out here.'
'Do you do this with your father?'
'I used to, a lot. Less so now. I'm busy. He's busy. You know how it is.'
'Where do your parents live? In one of those?' Chris gestured towards one of the many enormous houses nestling along the shoreline.
Eric laughed. 'No. They have a small place in town. Oyster Bay used to be where all the tradesmen who served the big estates lived. It still feels a bit like that.'
Chris was surprised. He had assumed that Eric's father was one of the gilded rich. 'Will you move back here one day?' he asked.
Eric shrugged. 'I don't know. I'd like to, maybe, when I'm older.'
'In one of these?'
'Here, I'll show you where I'd really like to live. It's just around this corner.'
They motored on for a couple of minutes, and Eric brought the boat in quite close to the shore. There stood a modern white house, with curved elegant lines and large windows. In front of it lurked a pool, and a lawn that dropped down to the water. It wasn't quite to Chris's taste, but it was certainly startling.
'Too modern for you, huh?' said Eric, watching Chris's reaction.
'I know nothing about architecture.'
'It was designed by Richard Meier.' That meant nothing to Chris, and Eric saw it. 'Well, anyway, I like it,' he said.
Chris looked at the mansions all around him, built far enough apart that each was secluded from the other, but close enough that every stretch of water was spoken for. 'Who lives in these places?'
'Pop stars, mafia dons, investment bankers.'
For the first time it hit Chris that, for some, investment banking was not just a passport to a good salary, it was the key to serious wealth. He couldn't quite believe he would ever live anywhere like that house, but he could believe Eric would. He realized that he was standing next to someone who would one day be a very rich man.
'Are you serious about politics, Eric or was the Bush campaign just a one-off?'
Eric glanced at Chris and smiled. 'I'm serious.'
'But you can't be a politician and an investment banker at the same time, surely?'
'That's not my plan. We do have professional politicians in the States. They go to law school and then spend their time knocking around Washington getting to know people. But I have a different strategy.'
'What's that?'
'These days you need money to get to the top in politics. And it'll only get worse. Campaign spending is rising and rising. So I figure I'll make a ton of money first, and then go into politics. Bloomfield Weiss seems a good place to start.'
'Makes sense.' And it did, for Eric. Trust him to have it all worked out. Chris found it impossible to make plans more advanced than being grateful he had a job at Bloomfield Weiss and doing his best to keep it.
Eric turned the boat around and drove it back along the channel, the way they had come. Lenka's raucous laugh floated up from the cockpit beneath them. 'Can you take over, Megan?' he asked. 'I'd better go down and see the others.'
Megan took the wheel and Eric climbed down the ladder to the group below, who were quickly getting drunk. Chris stayed on the bridge.
'Are you an expert pilot?' he asked.
'No,' Megan smiled. 'Eric and I have been out here a few times together. I can do the easy stuff.'
'How long have you known him?'
'Four years. We were at college together at Amherst. We've been going out for the last couple of years.' She saw the look of surprise on Chris's face. 'You thought I was still in high school, didn't you?'
'Oh, no, no,' Chris said.
'You're blushing,' Megan said. 'You're a lousy liar.'
It was true. Chris could feel the heat in his face. 'All right, I admit it,' he said. 'You don't look twenty-two, or whatever you must be. But that's a good thing, isn't it?'
'Maybe, one day it will be. Right now, it's a pain in the ass. Nobody takes me seriously. And people like you wonder why Eric's going out with a schoolgirl.'
'Oh, no, I can see why Eric would want to go out with you,' said Chris, without thinking.
Megan glanced at him quickly to check whether this was just a smooth remark, but then she smiled. 'You're blushing again.'
Chris took a swig of his beer to hide his confusion. He really did find her quite attractive. She had a softness and a kind of calm composure about her that made him want to talk to her more.
'Eric's very ambitious, isn't he?' he said.
'Oh, yes.'
'He did brilliantly on the training programme. The way he always seemed to understand everything instantly on the course was amazing. I think he will go far.'
'I'm sure he will,' said Megan.
'But he manages to be a nice guy with it,' said Chris. 'He spent a lot of time on the course helping the rest of us out. He didn't need to do that.'
'But it didn't harm his career, did it?' Megan said.
'It could have done.'
'But it didn't?'
'No, it didn't.'
Megan looked ahead as she guided the boat round a buoy. 'Sorry. That was unfair of me. Eric is very kind, and generous. But he'd never let anyone get in the way of his ambition.'
Chris raised his eyebrows. 'Do you think he really will go into politics?'
'Oh, yes,' said Megan, still concentrating on steering the boat.
'Do you think he'll get anywhere?'
'Oh, yes,' she said again.
A thought struck Chris. 'Not all the way? Not President?'
Megan smiled, as though Chris had just discovered a secret. 'What Eric wants to do, he usually ends up doing. Never underestimate him.'
'Wow.' She couldn't be serious. But someone had to be President, and Eric had as good a chance as anyone of being that person.
'Don't tell him I told you that,' said Megan.
'You didn't tell me anything,' said Chris. 'But you sound . . .'
'Yes?'
'I don't know. Unhappy with it.'
'I like Eric. Very much. In fact I . . .' She paused. Chris knew very well that she wanted to say that she loved him, but couldn't, at least not to a stranger. 'I like him,' she said again. 'But, please don't take offence, I'm not wild about investment banking. Eric has real talent, and I wish he'd use it for something more useful.'
'Going into politics can
be useful. If he's honest. Which Eric is.'
'Possibly. The trouble is that Eric's a Republican, and I'm not.'
'Oh.'
Megan sighed. 'Anyway. Things are going quite well at the moment. He likes what he's doing, and I like what I'm doing, and although we don't get to see each other as much as we'd like, it's great when we do.'
It was beginning to get dark. Lights seemed to emerge all around them from buoys, boats and the houses on the shoreline. Megan switched the boat's own lights on.
'You look too nice to be an investment banker,' she said.
'It's not that bad.'
'It sounds awful. Eric told me how they decided to fire the bottom quarter of the programme. And actually discouraging teamwork makes no sense to me.'
'Bloomfield Weiss is a bit over the top,' Chris said. 'And, if I'm honest with myself, I try to ignore all that stuff. It's a tough place. But I think I can handle it, and that gives me some pride.'
'But don't investment bankers just speculate with other people's money and pay themselves obscene salaries with the profits?'
'It's not quite that simple.' Megan gave him a look like she'd heard that before. Which she probably had, from Eric. 'No, really. Investment banks provide the world with capital. The world needs capital to create wealth and jobs.'
'So all those Wall Streeters are fighting world poverty every day?'
'Not exactly.' Part of Chris saw her point of view. His father would certainly have agreed with her. But if he was to do well at Bloomfield Weiss, and he did want to do well, then he would have to ignore that kind of thinking. Anyway, he didn't want to argue with her. 'What do you do? You live in Washington, don't you?'
'I'm at graduate school at Georgetown. Studying medieval European history. And before you say it, I know that's not going to save the Third World, either.'
'You like it, though?'
'It's fascinating. It truly is. But it's one of those infuriating situations: the more I read about it, the less I feel I understand it. We can try to know the world as it was a thousand years ago, but we'll never quite manage to understand it completely.'
Megan told Chris all about Charlemagne and his court of scholars and sycophants, and he listened. He had studied history himself, but had avoided the Middle Ages as too alien to the world he understood. Megan made it sound real. And Chris just liked to talk to her.
As they approached the mouth of the bay, Eric came up again to take over. He warned everyone that it would get a bit choppy once they were out in the exposed water of the Sound, and it did. The aftermath of the previous night's storm still disturbed the sea. Eric opened the throttles and the boat speeded up, heading for the lights of Connecticut on the other side of the Sound, lurching up and down in response to the power of the engines and the movement of the waves.
It was now dark, but there were lights in all directions: white, red, green, flashing, constant, moving, still, solitary and in groups. Eric could obviously make sense of them all. The moon was up, three-quarters full, transforming the dull grey of the sea to silver and leaving the shoreline in black silhouette. The odd cloud drifted across, causing a cloak of a deeper darkness to descend fleetingly over the water.
Chris climbed down the steps to the cockpit, where the others were all quite drunk. While he had only got through a single beer since they had set off, Lenka, Duncan, Ian and Alex had downed several margaritas. Although there was plenty of laughter in the air, Chris could feel the tension. It was too loud, the insults that were traded were too direct, there was an hysterical edge to it.
It didn't take long before it all boiled over.
Inevitably, it was a squabble between Lenka and Duncan that did it. Duncan was looking around him into the darkness. 'This reminds me a little of Cape Cod, don't you think, Lenka?'
'Don't be ridiculous,' she said, her voice slurred. 'It's nothing like Cape Cod.'
'Yes, it is,' said Duncan. 'It's just like it.'
'But it's dark, Duncan. You can't see anything. And there aren't really any beaches. And there are all these giant mansions everywhere. Even the sea looks different.'
'No, no it doesn't. Remember that place in Chatham we stayed in? That B&B where we lay in bed all Sunday morning just looking out of the window at the sea? You can't pretend you don't remember that. You were there, Lenka.'
Lenka exploded. 'Will you shut up!' she shouted. 'It's over. Don't you get it, Duncan? It's over. You can't keep talking about it as though we're still together.'
'But we had a great time that weekend. You can't wipe that from your memory.'
'I can and I will!' said Lenka, a touch of cruelty in her voice.
Duncan just looked at her. Then he grabbed a bottle of beer and crept round the bridge to the foredeck.
'Careful, Duncan!' shouted Eric from above. The boat was bucketing around in the waves, and it would have been easy for Duncan to lose his footing.
Ian, Chris, Alex and Lenka all sat in awkward silence in the cockpit. Lenka had gone too far. She probably knew that, but she was defying any of them to say so.
After a minute or so, Chris grabbed a couple of bottles. 'I'll take these up for Eric and Megan,' he said.
'I'll come up with you,' said Ian.
They all crowded on to the bridge. Duncan was sitting on the foredeck in front of them, drinking his beer, staring at the lights of Connecticut, which were getting closer.
'Duncan and Lenka have a fight?' asked Eric.
'Yes,' said Chris.
'I could see it coming.'
'You shouldn't have invited him,' said Ian. 'He was bound to cause trouble.'
'We had to,' said Eric. 'We couldn't leave him out.'
'Besides,' Chris added. 'It was Lenka who was out of order there. She's pissed.'
'So is Alex,' said Ian. 'What's up with him, anyway? He's been moody ever since the exam.'
'I don't know,' said Eric. 'His mom, maybe.'
'Or his job,' said Chris. 'Does he know why he wasn't assigned anything? He did well enough in the exam and I thought the mortgage guys were looking out for him. Do you know why, Eric? Have they just forgotten about him?'
Eric shrugged. 'He doesn't know what's going on. His mother's not doing very well. I guess it's all finally gotten to him.'
'Look,' said Ian, in an urgent whisper. He was pointing down into the cockpit behind them. Lenka and Alex were locked in a deep alcoholic embrace.
'Oh, shit,' said Chris.
They all turned towards Duncan. He had stood up, and was making his way unsteadily aft. He paused, and tossed the empty beer bottle into the sea. He couldn't yet see what was happening in the cockpit; the bridge was in the way.
'Lenka!' shouted Chris.
Lenka didn't look up, but just raised a single finger.
Chris turned to Duncan. 'Duncan! Wait!'
Duncan looked up and wobbled as a wave hit the boat, almost falling in. 'I need another beer!' he growled, and continued on his way. Then he saw Lenka and Alex. 'Hey!' he shouted and scrambled down into the cockpit. 'Hey!'
He grabbed Lenka's shoulder and pulled her back, away from Alex.
'Don't touch me!' she cried, pushing him in the chest.
'What the fuck do you think you're doing?' Duncan shouted, pushing her back.
'Leave her alone,' said Alex straightening up. He shoved Duncan away from Lenka.
Duncan took a step back and swung. Alex was too drunk and too slow to react. The blow caught him cleanly on the chin. Alex staggered. Duncan hit him again. This time Alex went crashing back against the railing, just as the boat pitched on a wave. He tipped backwards and disappeared over the side.
Chris found it difficult to piece together exactly what happened next. He could remember Lenka screaming, Duncan staring open-mouthed at the point where Alex had been standing, Eric bounding down from the bridge and diving over the side of the boat.
Then Ian tumbled down after him and threw his own shoes off. 'Don't!' cried Megan as he, too, jumped into the water. The bo
at was still speeding forward through the waves. Megan, who had been at the wheel, was slow to react, but now cut the throttle. A cloud passed over the moon. Chris could just make out Ian splashing in the water, but there was no sign of the other two.
'Oh, Jesus,' said Duncan, as he struggled to take his own shoes off.
'Stop him!' shouted Megan. 'For God's sake Chris, keep him in the boat!'
Lenka was screaming at Duncan in a mixture of Czech and English. Chris jumped down into the cockpit to try to catch him, but he was too late. 'I've got to get him. I've got to get him out,' mumbled Duncan, as he went over the side.
Lenka threw herself into Chris's arms, sobbing hysterically. He tried to push her to one side, but she wouldn't let go of him. So he slapped her hard across the face. She looked at him in shock, and he pushed her down on to a seat in the cockpit.
Megan was turning the boat around. 'Chris! Come up here!'
Chris scrambled up to the bridge, but even there, several feet higher up, he couldn't see any of them. Both he and Megan scanned the dark churning water in front of them. Out here, in the middle of the Sound, the wind was stronger. Tufts of spume flashed off the crests of waves, as though a hundred tiny swimmers surrounded the boat. With the moon behind a cloud, it was suddenly very dark. They seemed to be about half way between Long Island and Connecticut, and although they were surrounded by the lights of boats, none was close enough to help.
Megan held the throttle right back and motored slowly back to where she thought they had been when Alex had fallen in. But with the turn, and the wind, and the current, it was difficult to be sure exactly where that was. There were four of them in the water, and Chris and Megan couldn't see a single one.
'There!' said Chris. 'Over to the right!'
The Predator Page 8
