A Secret Life by Laura Peyton Roberts

Author:Laura Peyton Roberts
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9780375890314
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2003-05-30T04:00:00+00:00

9

NIGHT WAS FALLING AS Sydney and Noah exited the taxi that had carried them back to the Seine. Lights sparkled on the river, a thousand tiny reflections from the buildings, bridges, docks, and numerous boats that still cruised the dark waters. Most of the vessels were large and crowded with tourists on sightseeing trips, but Sydney also saw a commercial barge and some smaller, faster craft, which she assumed belonged to local pleasure seekers.

Noah motioned for her to follow him down a dock to the water's edge.

“Come on,” he said. “We're taking a boat trip.”

“From here?”

The dock Noah had chosen was neither crowded nor well lit, and only a few small boats had tied up alongside it. “All the big tourist boats are over there,” she added, pointing across the river.

“We're looking for something a little more . . . private,” he told her impatiently. Turning away, he walked hurriedly down the dock, his large paper shopping bag knocking against his leg with each stride, and Sydney had to rush to catch up.

From the moment they'd collected his package at the antique shop, Noah's attitude had changed. He was tense again, impatient, brusque—the guy she hadn't much liked that morning. But this time she realized something: His attitude wasn't aimed at her, it was all about the mission. Once Noah's mind was on the job, there didn't seem to be room for anything else.

Noah stopped at the first boat where someone was visible on board and barked out a question in French. The man paused in the middle of polishing a hatch, staring as if Sydney and Noah were crazy. Then he shook his head and waved them away. Noah continued down the dock, undeterred.

“What did you say to him?” Sydney asked, trotting to keep up, but Noah just kept walking.

At the very end of the dock, a gray cabin cruiser bobbed in the wakes from passing boats, the peeling paint on its hulls a remnant of happier days. A man reclined in a folding chair on its deck, drinking wine straight from the bottle.

“Bonsoir!” Noah called to him. “Ça va?”

The man peered at them through the gathering darkness, then rose unsteadily to his feet. His clothes were torn and filthy, and a dark wet stain spread across the front of his shirt.

“He's drunk,” Sydney whispered, disgusted.

Noah smiled without humor. “And poor. Two points for us.” Leaving Sydney on the dock, he jumped aboard and began a conversation.

Whatever Noah was saying, the man seemed to like it. He interrupted and protested a lot, but his eyes had begun to glitter with ill-concealed hope. Moments later, Noah took a wad of bills from his pocket and pressed them into the man's hand. The old wino glanced at the money, then tried to exit the boat so quickly he almost fell into the Seine. He passed Sydney on the dock, his odor overwhelming.

“Bonsoir,” he said with a leering wink before he stumbled off into the night.

“Come on. Get in,” Noah said urgently, offering Sydney his hand.

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