Anything Considered by Peter Mayle

Author:Peter Mayle [Mayle, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-79193-1
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2011-04-05T16:00:00+00:00

11

“DEAR ME,” said Lord Glebe when he noticed the two empty seats. “We seem to have lost our host.” He looked around the screening room with an air of mild irritation. “Ah well. I suppose I’d better do the honors. If you gentlemen feel like a nightcap, help yourselves at the bar on the afterdeck. Or I’m sure young Piero will make you a cup of cocoa if you ask him nicely.” He stooped to pick up Genghis’s plate. “I’m off to the land of Nod. Busy day tomorrow.”

Bennett went below. Without any real hope of an answer, he stopped to knock at Anna’s door, listened to silence for a moment or two. He let himself in and sat scowling on her bed, feeling a sour, confused mixture of disappointment and jealousy. It wasn’t a night for sleep. Restless and angry, he returned to the deserted main deck.

The boat was completely silent now, at anchor, steady under his feet except for the gentle rise and fall of a lazy swell. The floodlit surface of the swimming pool barely moved, a slight tilt one way, a slight tilt the other. The air was soft and salty, warm and still; the stars were sharp. Bennett swore under his breath and stared at the shore. He could see a small port in the distance, the shallow curve of the harbor defined by lights, a mass of hills, blacker than the blackness of the sky, rising behind the huddle of houses. A beautiful, miserable night.

A whisper of sound, no louder than a scuff against the deck, made him turn his head. Something was there, in one of the deep pools of shadow between the bulkhead lights. Probably Glebe’s dog, making his evening rounds. Curious, Bennett walked toward it, then froze in shock as a figure stepped into the light.

Anna was naked except for a brief triangle of white at her hips, the aluminum attaché case clutched to her chest. Her eyes bright with relief, she jerked her head toward the stern and led the startled Bennett in silence along the length of the boat until they reached the gangway that led down into the sea. Anna put her mouth to Bennett’s ear. “You go first. You’ll have to swim on your back and pull me. I’ll hold the case out of the water.”

“What happened? Are you OK?”

“Jesus, Bennett. Get going.”

He eased himself into the sea, blazer billowing and Old Etonian tie floating bravely in front of him, and took hold of Anna under her upraised arms. With the case held clear of the surface, they kicked away from the boat and began to swim backward to the shore.

After ten laborious minutes they rested, treading water. There was no sign of life on the Ragazza, no alarm bells, no hurrying figures on deck.

“What happened? Where’s Tuzzi?”

“He’s out of it, but I don’t know for how long. Come on. Let’s go.”

They continued trying to kick in unison, slow and awkward, Bennett’s sodden clothes weighing more and

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