Craig Hyatt was a practical man who prided himself on his clear thinking, but he couldn't help the surge of purely primitive rage that swept through him for a moment.
Damn Anne for a conniving, false-faced bitch! Obviously, she had learned to let go.
Why couldn't she have done it with him?
He met Harris coming out of Anne's room, his face wearing a look of concern. Before Craig could speak, Harris said, "Hyatt, have you seen Anne? She told me she was going to rest, but she's gone from the room-and the gun I gave her is gone, too."
They had tied her up and gagged her and left her to suffocate-if she didn't die of a chill first. Anne heard herself moan with sheer terror, and the sound was muffled and hollow. She was lying uncomfortably on her back on the bottom of the small motorboat; the canvas cover was drawn tautly back into place so that it cut off the light and most of the air her lungs craved.
"Sorry, baby," Webb had murmured, leaning over her as he made sure the knots were tied fast. "But all's fair in love ... you should have remembered what I told you last night."
Over his voice she'd heard Anna-Maria's jeering laugh. "All's fair in love and war, yes? And I am not sorry. I would like to see you suffer a little before you die-it will give you something to think about until we return for you."
The wind was blowing harder. She wanted to struggle and thrash about as she had when they had dragged and pushed her back out of the cave and up the steps to the deck. Anna-Maria had emptied out her purse; she had laughed contemptuously when she found the gun.
"So you had a little gun, huh? And you were afraid to use it, or too slow ... it doesn't matter now."
If she struggled, the boat might go over the edge ... the tide had started to come in already; Anne thought the roar of the waves was growing louder-and the sound of water sucking greedily around the wooden pilings that supported the deck.
It was hard to keep from panicking. She had told Jean Benedict not to tell ...
everyone would be looking for her and no one would know until it was too late.
Sometime during the night one of them or both of them would come and lower the boat over the edge. Or perhaps they'd take her out with weights attached to her body and let her sink. So simple. She couldn't come back then, like Karim ...
What made this worse than the Dream was knowing she wouldn't wake up-knowing that of all the ways in which he could have killed her, Webb, who knew of her hidden terror, had chosen this way.
"Sometimes she can be a headstrong, disobedient little brat!" From somewhere hidden in the deepest recesses of her memory, she heard her mother's petulant voice. "Look at the way she keeps spying on me!"
She had been spanked and sent to bed; the threat of being sent back to Deepwood by herself if she didn't learn to behave had made her cry herself to sleep. "Don't forget to say your prayers, Anne." Her grandmother's voice had always been gentle, even when she was reproving her.
"Now I lay me down to sleep." That one had always scared her, with its ominous suggestion "
... and if I die before I wake." She didn't-couldn't-remember any other prayers she'd learned by rote so long ago. She was going to die-oh God, why hadn't he made it quick? Why hadn't he let Ria shoot her? She didn't want life to end like this-dying in slow stages by anticipation before the final end.
A fresh paroxysm of primitive, hysterical terror took hold of her as she fought the gag in her mouth, trying to scream, scared by the sounds that came from her own throat.
She struggled, after all, and felt the boat rock slightly. Or was it the rising wind that had done it? Breathing became difficult when she started to sob.
She mustn't, she mustn't! She might drown in her own tears. If she didn't give in, if she tried to think-people had escaped from worse predicaments. Think of all the books she'd read, the movies she'd watched. Wasn't survival the primal instinct?
Anne forced herself to lie very still, concentrating just on that much, until the rising tide of hysteria had ebbed somewhat. She had reached the point when she had nothing left to lose-except I her life. And she was still alive, they had left her here alone; she had a little time, at least. Concentrate! she told herself fiercely. Don't give in, don't give them that satisfaction.
She tested the knots that bound her wrists and ankles, and found them surprisingly loose. Her circulation hadn't been cut off yet, and the rope that had been lying on the bottom of the boat was old. Her wrists had been tied behind her back. If she could bring her ankles up to where her fingers could reach for those knots-it was worth a try at least. There was no convenient broken glass lying around, no old rusty knife she could use to saw through the rope. Just her fingers, before they became too chilled to use.
"Has anybody seen Anne?" Harris Phelps made the question sound casual. Yves Pleydel and the cameramen were still outside taking background shots of the unusual color effects the smoke from the fire had produced in the sky. Yves had let himself get too caught up in the goddamned movie itself, leaving "those other details"
to Harris and Espinoza, since Randall had taken off. He had grumbled at the fact that no one was around when he needed them-meaning Anne, of course, and Webb Carnahan, who turned up belatedly with Anna-Maria, of all people, holding hands and acting for all the world as if they were on vacation-or a second honeymoon.
No one had noticed or remembered seeing Anne Mallory at all during the day. They'd all been too occupied with their own affairs-making up their minds if earning double pay plus a bonus was incentive enough to keep them here with a fire raging a few miles away. But by now most of them had realized there was no danger as long as they stayed on the island, and it had begun to seem like an adventure. After all, the winds were blowing the other way, and it wasn't as if they were actually marooned.
"I can't understand where she would have gone!" Harris said. His fingers brushed nervously at his mustache.
Espinoza shrugged. "Women! Who knows? Perhaps she felt in the mood to take a solitary walk. To think. Perhaps she wanted to escape from her ex-husband?"
"Where would she escape to? None of the cars is missing- I checked. Palumbo hasn't seen her either. It's starting to get dark, and if she isn't back ..."
"You are both looking so grim!" Anna-Maria sauntered up. She had left Webb arguing with Yves Pleydel, who was furious because neither Webb nor Anne had been available when he needed them.
"What do you think-that you are being paid to be on vacation?" His accent became very pronounced when he was angry. But Webb could handle him, and she could find out from Sal if little Anne had told anyone she was going down to the beach.
Then ...
"But of course she'll be back," Espinoza was saying..
He looked relieved to see her. "Where have you been? Have you seen Anne?"
She looked sunburned-and sated. He found himself wondering exactly what had been going on between her and Webb Carnahan since he'd last spoken to them both.
"We've been sunbathing on the beach. And we didn't see anyone. Why do you ask?
Isn't she in her room?"
"No!" Harris Phelps looked annoyed. "And it's not like Anne to just wander off on her own without a word .. ."
"Perhaps she went off with this Mr. Hyatt-her husband, yes?"
"Hyatt's as anxious as I am." Harris's voice sounded stiff.
It was left to Sal Espinoza to interpose smoothly, with a warning look at Anna-Maria,
"He's on the radio right now, is he not?" He gave a shrug as he explained to her, "Our telephones no longer work-the fire, of course."
At that moment Craig Hyatt came outside, looking harried. In a gesture quite uncharacteristic of him he raked his fingers through his hair.
"I'm not sure what the hell's up. But apparently the coast guard and the navy have been called in to help fight the fire, along with personnel from Fort Ord. They say they might need to billet some of their people here-it's a convenient spot -I'm quoting the coast guard commander now-and they've learned you have a helicopter pad here ..."
He let his words trail off, looking from one suddenly still face to another. He said distractedly, "Hell! I don't know if it means something or not-any more than you do. It could be Reardon's Medici hand at work, or it might not be. As far as I know he's sitting tight until he gets more feedback. But ..." And then quite abruptly he cut his speech short when he asked, looking directly at Harris, "Has Anne turned up yet?"
THE MOON CAME UP EARLY-an orange lantern hanging in a smoky sky. Very few people on the island noticed it. Harris Phelps was giving a lavish party for the cast and crew of Greed for Glory-an extra fringe benefit for staying on. Very few noticed that Harris himself wasn't present. The food was great and there was unlimited booze-who cared?
Yves Pleydel stood off to one comer, nibbling on a fingernail. The music had been turned up too loud-it blasted his ears. Sourly he watched Sal Espinoza, who positively oozed Latin charm this evening, playing surrogate host. He wished Espinoza would take his ex-wife Claudia off his hands. And he wished most of all that he hadn't become so carried away with the idea of finishing up the scenes that had to be done here that he'd persuaded Harris to keep everybody on. They should have all left while the going was good, and scattered in their various directions. Now -
something was up. The coast guard and the military, tipped off by Reardon no doubt, might soon be crawling about everywhere, prying into things. He wondered angrily what Webb Carnahan had had to do with this latest move.
"Hey! I am still here; remember me?" Claudia pulled at his arm petulantly and Pleydel forced a smile. He almost felt sorry for the silly little bitch. In spite of too much makeup (why did so many Italian women insist on ringing their eyes with black?) she looked rather haggard. She had had a shock last night, and it had taken a clever combination of threats and bribery to keep her from pushing everyone else across the border into hysteria.
"Petite, how could I forget you?" She had never understood sarcasm, of course. It was one of her more fortunate traits. "And you have finished your drink. I'll get you another .. ."
She was already quite drunk. Another drink might make her pass out, and leave him free.
Claudia said with a pathetic attempt at dignity, "You do not have to treat me as if I am a child! I tell you that I saw what I saw! And I know a few things, too." She laughed at the look that crossed Pleydel's face. "Are you surprised? Do you think I am completely blind? In any case, Karim told me a few things -he asked me to come back to Egypt with him. Perhaps it was not him but the other person he struggled with who fell from the cliff-or perhaps he had to leave very quickly when he heard what has happened to his uncle."
"What? What are you talking about?" Pleydel grasped her by the arms, shaking her.
"Stop-you are hurting me. And we are not married now." Something in his eyes made Claudia tone down her indignation to mutter sullenly, "I heard it on the radio very late last night, or maybe it was this morning, I don't know. That his uncle -something about an attempted assassination. So then I thought .. ."
Yves left her with her mouth falling open and made his way purposefully towards Espinoza. At about the same time Anna-Maria slipped unobtrusively from the room.
The bottom of the boat was damp, and by the time she had worked her ankles free, Anne was chilled to the marrow and shivering uncontrollably. It was getting darker and darker. She could hear the sound of the tide coming in-waves covering the beach now, dangerously insidious sound of lapping water and an occasional big breaker that flung itself furiously against the cliff. Oh God, she thought desperately, I've got to get myself free! It was night, and they'd be coming for her. No-don't think it, don't give way to hysteria now. She'd have been missed, and Harris would send people to look for her. Jean-Jean knew where she'd gone, and she was bound to tell someone, especially when Webb turned up with Ria.
Webb! Tears came unbidden to Anne's eyes, stinging them. What a fool she'd been to come looking for him. The memory of his mocking words hurt her worse than the ache in her wrists and shoulders.
"You should have remembered what I told you last night, baby. All's fair in love ..."
And Ria, finishing his sentence for him with a note of laughing triumph in her voice.
But that hadn't been what he'd said at all. He'd told her that he was crazy in love with her. He-Anne froze then, in midthought. Over the low thunder of the surf she heard another sound. The squeal of rusty hinges? Not yet, not yet, her mind screamed, and then she heard the vibration of soft footfalls along the boards.
She knew who it was. It was as if her nerve ends had sensed his presence even before he ripped the canvas cover away and leaned over her. She was seized by a feeling of inevitability, of deja vu that made her still and unresisting when he lifted her up. She didn't even wonder at the fact that when he'd put her on her feet he held her closely against the warm, hard length of his body. He hadn't come here to kill her-it was to save her.
"Oh, Annie-love, I'm sorry!" he said softly against her damp, salt-sprayed hair; and she didn't even flinch when she saw the knife blade glitter in the strangely diffused light. He used it only to cut away the rope that held her wrists pinioned, and then he ripped away the gag, putting his mouth in its place for a long sweet instant.
The truth she'd spent so much time trying to hide from was that she didn't care who he was or what he was or even how many people he had killed. It was a terrible thing to know about herself, that she could accept everything he'd done because she loved him and he loved her. Leaning against him while he wrapped his windbreaker around her shoulders and started to massage her bruised wrists, Anne felt as if she'd been running against a strong wind for a long, long time and had just crossed the line.
"I see you were resourceful enough to get your ankles free! Can you walk? I hope to hell you can, because that moon's going to scale the cliff any time now, and it looks like a damned yellow searchlight!"