Eye for an Eye (7 page)

She left with
some annoyance, and sat down on a nearby bollard to plan her next
move.

After a few
minutes, the office door opened and the paunchy man left. Robyn
grinned. The spotty youth would be much easier to deal with.

As soon as the
older man was out of sight she hurried back to the office and
tapped on the door. The pimply one looked up and shook his head,
pointing to his watch. Robyn tapped again, and smiled winsomely.
Reluctantly, he levered himself away from the computer and came to
the door.

‘We’re closed,
ma’am’ he called. ‘Come back at two o’clock.’

Robyn tapped
again. ‘Please,’ she said, ‘I only want to ask you a question. It
won’t take long.’

He opened the
door suspiciously, just a crack, allowing Robyn to push it further
open and ease herself inside.

‘That’s better.
Now, what’s your name?’

‘Steve. But you
can’t…’

‘It’s all
right, Steve,’ she said reassuringly. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not going
to get you into any trouble. All I want to do is find out where
Colwyn Symons keeps his boat. That’s not too hard for you to do, is
it? I’m sure it’s all right there on your clever computer. It’s a
nice boat, Steve - look, I’ve got a picture of it here on my
T-shirt. See?’ She pulled the shirt tight across her curvaceous
breasts, and watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed in a convulsive
gulp. ‘You can find that information for me, can’t you Steve?
Hm?’

‘Yeah, yeah,
all right.’ He scurried over to the computer and tapped at the
keys. ‘Colin Simons?’

‘No, Colwyn,
and Symons with a ‘y’.’

He tapped
again. ‘Ah here it is.’ His eyes narrowed craftily. ‘Berth number
217.’

‘Thank you
Steve! That wasn’t so hard, was it?’

Robyn flicked
up her T-shirt and flashed him a quick look at her breasts as a
reward, then hurried out of the door to find berth 217.

As she left the
office, a tattered tramp reeled away towards a litter bin and began
to rummage through it. Robyn spared him a sympathetic look as she
ran towards the far end of the marina. She’d already searched
berths 1 to 95, so if she ran twice as far, she should be close to
217. The painted numbers on the edges of the docks climbed, until
she was certain she was on the right dock at last. 210, 215, almost
there… She stopped. Berth 217 was occupied by a bright red sailing
boat, not a white cruiser.

‘Why that
little twerp!’ she burst out. It seemed she’d been double-crossed.
The air turned blue for several minutes as she muttered exactly
what she thought of Steve and what she’d do to him when she caught
up with him again.

For lack of
anything better to do, she knocked on the cabin-top of the red
yacht. A tall man with a wind-browned face unfolded himself into
the cockpit.

‘Hi there, are
you looking for someone?’

‘Yes, I am. Is
this your usual berth? I was told the boat I’m looking for is in
berth 217, but this isn’t it.’

‘Pity,’ he said
with a twinkle in his eye. ‘Which section of the marina do you
need, because there are three hundred berths in each section. Your
217 may be in one of the others.’

Her face fell.
‘I thought I wasn’t getting the whole story. Damn, I’ll just have
to go try the other sections. Sorry to bother you.’

‘Sure there’s
nothing I can do to help?’ He smiled hopefully.

‘No, but thanks
anyway, it’s kind of you to offer.’

‘Well good
luck!’

She waved her
thanks, and trudged back along the dock.

By the time she
reached the shore, she realised she was desperately hungry and
hadn’t eaten since her early breakfast. She needed lunch for the
energy to carry on with her quest, so she headed back towards the
city to find a café, navigating by aiming for the slender spire of
the CN tower.

Halfway there
she turned to look back at the lake to see how far she’d walked. It
was a big city, and the distances surprised her. Some way back, a
tramp had paused to scratch at something inside his coat, and Robyn
frowned. It was awful the way these people had nowhere else to go
but the streets. There seemed to be a lot more of them in Toronto
than she’d ever seen back home in New Zealand. She carried on
walking, conscious of her stomach growling a protest at its empty
state.

By the time she
found somewhere to eat, she was almost faint with hunger, and a
hamburger seemed like the food of the gods. The second one was just
as nice, and the extra fries went down really well. But the third
one she’d ordered turned out to be beyond her capacity, though it
seemed a shame to waste it. She wrapped it up and shoved it in her
pocket, then braved the damp heat outside.

A camera shop
on the far side of the road caught her eye, and she went to cross
the street to investigate. She glanced quickly to the right, and
stepped off the curb. There was a squeal of brakes from the left,
and suddenly something soft pushed her sideways into the gutter.
When she scrambled to her feet, she saw what looked like a pile of
old rags lurching quickly away. The car that had almost run her
down hooted as it drove off, and she realised that she would have
stepped right into its path if the beggar hadn’t shoved her aside.
She’d completely forgotten about traffic coming from the wrong
direction.

She ran after
the tramp, tapping him gingerly on the shoulder.

‘Hey, thank
you, you saved my life!’

He muttered
something incomprehensible, but she thought she saw a gleam of
intelligence in his grey eyes before he turned away.

‘Here, can I at
least give you something?’ She pulled the burger out of her pocket.
‘It’s a bit squashed but it’s still warm - you’re very welcome to
have it if you’re hungry.’

He turned and
grabbed it then shuffled off, disappearing down a side alley.

Robyn stared
after him, shaking her head. So many vagrants in such a beautiful
city, it just didn’t seem fair. They’d probably lost their money to
sharks like Colwyn Symons and were destined to live their miserable
lives in cardboard boxes while he swanned around in fancy boats
that could have fed all the city’s homeless for a month.

It suddenly
occurred to her that Colwyn was very probably setting up similar
scams in Toronto to the ones he’d used in New Zealand, and that at
this very moment he could be talking some poor pensioners into
parting with their nest egg. Spurred by the thought, she wheeled
round and headed back to the marina to get on with the search.

This time she
was sure she’d narrowed it down to the right area and the right
dock. In a few minutes, she’d be aboard the Angel Lady and giving
her quarry the fright of his life.

Colwyn Symons
jumped lightly aboard the Angel Lady and looked around approvingly.
Everything was tidy, cushions neatly lined up, wrinkles smoothed,
woodwork polished. He dipped a cloth in some mild detergent and
wiped over all surfaces that hands might have touched, especially
the ship’s wheel. He checked his watch, then went below to make
sure the bar fridge was well-stocked. He kept something for every
taste there, from crisp dry Chardonnay to sweet wine spritzers,
bottled beers to spirit mixers. Juice and soda pop for the
abstemious, whisky and gin for the hard drinkers, he could please
any guest. He prided himself on his attention to detail, knowing it
was the little things that made the difference. People could be
relied on to make their choices on the flimsiest of emotional
responses - it was like buying a house just because there was a
pretty tree in the front garden, or a car because it was the right
colour to match a dress. He could make people choose his investment
plans just by tailoring the occasion to their particular needs. His
skill was what earned him the big bucks.

It was almost
four. He used breath spray, and checked his hair. There was a
tentative call from the dock.

‘Mr. Symons?
Are we too early?’

Colwyn bounded
up on deck, shaking hands and helping the silver-haired couple on
board with the minimum of fuss and maximum charm.

‘Wonderful to
see you Alan, come and sit here. Kate, you look blooming, how do
you manage it with everything you do? Sit yourself down, and I’ll
get you a cool drink. What would you like?’

He soon had
them laughing and at their ease, ready for a short ride on the
lake. The weather was perfect, sunny with just a light breeze, and
the water was busy with sailboats of every size providing an
attractive background. Once his guests were settled with their
drinks, he pressed the starter button on the polished wooden
dashboard, and was pleased to hear an immediate response from the
powerful engines below. A puff of blue smoke jetted from the
exhaust, and he reached across the cockpit to let go the mooring
ropes.

In the
distance, a slim figure ran along the dock.

He tweaked the
throttle, enjoying the throaty roar that promised full performance.
The boat started to move. Behind him, the lithe blonde figure was
nearer, still running at full speed.

Colwyn raised
his glass in a toast to his guests, making sure their attention was
on him. This was their moment. He opened the throttle and the boat
surged forward with a roar towards the sparkling waters of the
lake.

‘Here’s to a
great day out,’ he called over the noise of the engine. ‘Let’s have
some fun. I’ll take you round the islands and we’ll see where the
other rich people live!’

Behind them,
the sound of Robyn’s running feet and her despairing headlong
plunge off the dock went completely unnoticed. The boat wake
gurgled and frothed in a graceful curve as they sped across the
waves.

Sudden
immersion in cold water shocked Robyn out of her blind fury. She
spat diesel-flavoured water, wiped her lips, and paddled in place
for a few moments while she collected her thoughts. Actually the
lake felt quite refreshing after her long day in the sun, but she
was furious that Colwyn Symons had got away just when she’d caught
up with him at last. Still, at least she knew where to find him
now.

She hauled
herself back onto the dock and sat down to think while water pooled
around her on the sun-baked timber. Her heated pursuit of Colwyn
Symons was turning out to be a lot harder on her than it was on
him, and that wasn’t part of the plan. Her goal was to make his
life miserable, not hers.

As she
squelched back to her shabby hotel, she began to see that perhaps
she could take a different line of attack. A subtle and devious
approach might have more long-term impact than an outright
fight.

Once in dry
clothes, she pulled pen and paper towards her and began to plot her
campaign, but after a few minutes she realised she needed someone
to bounce ideas off. She picked up the phone and dialled the
international code for New Zealand, the area code for the South
Island, and the number at the farm. Pete would have a few
suggestions, she was sure.

He answered
after some time, sounding very sleepy.

‘Yeah? Pete
here.’

‘Whoops, sorry
Pete, did I wake you up? What time is it over there?’

‘Robyn? Is
everything all right? Where are you?’

‘In Toronto.
Yes, everything’s fine. How are you?’

‘Bloody tired!
It’s two o’clock in the bloody morning here, girl!’

‘Is it? Hell,
sorry bro - do you want me to hang up so you can go back to
sleep?’

‘Nah, you’ve
woken me up now, and it’s really good to hear from you. Tell me
what’s been going on - have you tracked the bastard down?’

‘Yeah, sort of.
I’ve found where he keeps his boat, and I’ve seen him in the
distance. He got away on me today though and I couldn’t get my
hands on him.’

‘So you haven’t
talked to him yet?’

‘No, but I’m
working on some new ideas. See what you think. I reckon I can
really get to him if I’m a bit clever about it. I’ll have to meet
him at the marina, because that’s the only place I can find him. I
was thinking I could volunteer to be cabin boy on his boat so that
I can get close to him, then I can…’ She stopped as Pete snorted
with derision.

‘Robyn! Think
about it - it’s not a square-rigged pirate ship, it’s a modern
launch! He doesn’t need a cabin boy, even if you could maintain the
deception for more than two minutes! No, you’ll have to do better
than that, sis.’

‘Damn! I could
see it so clearly! I’d get my hair cut like a boy, and wear baggy
white shorts to look the part - it would be so cool!’

‘What about
your, er…’

‘Tits? Oh come
on, Pete, my boobs aren’t that big. With a flat sports bra and a
big T-shirt you’d never notice them.’

‘No, I meant
what about your voice. He’d spot you as a Kiwi and a female as soon
as you opened your mouth.’

‘OK, I see what
you mean. Not a great idea then. What else? Got any
suggestions?’

‘You could sink
his boat. Swim up to it under cover when nobody’s watching.’

‘Ooh, I like
that. Drill a couple of holes below the waterline and let her fill
up, and dive, dive, dive!’

‘Of course, it
probably wouldn’t bother him all that much, he’d just get the
insurance to sort it out.’

‘Aw Pete,
you’re taking all the fun out of this!’

‘Sorry, Rob,
just trying to help.’

‘What if I pose
as a rich investor? He’d have to wine me and dine me and be really
nice and then I’d kick him hard in the balls and tell him what a
prick he is.’

‘That’s got
possibilities. Yeah, I can see you doing that. How are you going to
look rich, though. You didn’t pack your mink coat or diamond
earrings, did you?’ He chuckled, knowing the flashest thing in his
sister’s wardrobe was a brand new bush shirt.

‘Damn, I knew
I’d need them if I didn’t bring them! No, you’re right again,
smartarse. Well I guess I’ll just follow him at a distance and
harass him for now - I’ve got plenty of ideas for that. Some really
good ones, too!’