Mysterious Islands. David Meade

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СКАЧАТЬ the centerpiece of each table. A romantic atmosphere added to the electric nature of the evening. Cassandra looked at me rather coyly and asked, “Would you prefer wine, champagne, or something else?”

      “Something else,” I answered. I noticed her strong perfume, the dark eyes and the long hair covering her petite figure.

      So began an evening of quiet discourse as we listened to piano music in the background and watched the endless parade of the wealthy patrons of the hotel. It reminded me of a comment I had heard on my last trip here - at a jewelry store - the man had asked a customer if his “wife, girlfriend, mistress or whatever relationship might exist” would like to look at a certain bauble.

      It was time to order and we tried filet mignon for two. A magnum of wine from the wine cellar, Chateau Haut Brion, complemented the mood of the evening. I was being lured into a dream, I thought, but I liked it and I hoped it would continue. It was a far cry from my daytime life and I enjoyed it - it was an escape.

      “And what about your family?” she asked.

      “Oh, they’re in Arizona , and points west. They’ve all migrated from their original cities, to wherever.”

      “How about your immediate family?”

      This was an interesting question as there was none, and the fact that she was inquisitive on this point had me thinking that perhaps there was more than an immediate interest in the point at hand. “My immediate family - you’re looking at.”

      “In Palm Beach you never mentioned your line of work...”

      “Well, I’m here for an International Conference on Securities Management. I represent principals - primarily out of London, who investment bank deals of various sorts. . . and I act as both a principal and an intermediary in some of the deals . . .”

      She looked at me quizzically for a moment... and then said, “Anyone with a job description that complex, who’s out of the country on business constantly, must be with one of the government intelligence agencies - which one are you with?”

      Taken aback, I smiled and said, “Well, from what I’ve heard, if that was true...they’re all pretty much in the same business - so it doesn’t really matter - if it were true, right?”

      She responded, “I read a lot, and I’m not your average - you know what I mean...”

      “Precisely...” I answered back.

      Cassandra had led a privileged life and one which involved the study of relationships and people. She strategized instantly in her mind, almost with computer-like precision. She had spent her early years in Massachusetts and the winters in Palm Beach. Her parents had inherited a tremendous tract of land bordering on the edge of a city, Scoville, which caused the value of the land as the city developed to be worth well in excess of twenty million dollars. It was developed as they required cash. She never had any money concerns...but she had been through two previous marriages

      The marriages I understood from my meeting friends of hers in Palm Beach had been one-sided affairs. She brought both the money and the intellect to the partnership - they contributed only some social skills - and those quite limited. She had dissolved both marriages upon discovery of - to be quite blunt about it - multiple extramarital flings with close friends. In a small town those matters are not privy to just a few.

      It was spring time in Bermuda and the night looked lovely so we walked after dinner, and took our after-dinner drinks to the pool. Colored lights reflected on the calm waters of the pool as a full moon illuminated the night sky. A croquet game was set up on a large green expanse next to the pool. A few couples walked through the field, onto the paths to an adjacent hotel. Between the next hotel and ours was a beautiful cove, where one looked straight down into the churning waters, illuminated by floodlights at night. A rocky path led down to the cove. At night the waters were deep blue, and the waves crashed in the distance as we talked by the poolside.

      “When will you be back in the States?” she inquired.

      “Two weeks...that’s how long I’m scheduled for here.”

      “Funny - I’ll be here that exact length of time, too - it’s enough time to show my aunt the whole island...and shop - once you’ve been here two weeks, you start running out of things to do!”

      “Bermuda’s like that ...shuts down early at night.”

      We both looked towards the ocean as a helicopter appeared and its bright lights illuminated the ocean and the beach. “Must be a special visitor,” she remarked. It moved towards the helipad and landed softly. In the distance it was hard to make out who it might be. A group of four men disembarked. One attended to the luggage and the rest walked in the opposite direction - towards the cove in the ocean. It was as if they didn’t care to be seen or bothered. They walked until they were out of sight and then the noise of the helicopter’s rotors began again and it lifted off into the distance.

      “Probably back to the airport,” I remarked.

      “Only Governors and celebrities travel that way,” she said.

      “And Presidents,” I added.

      “What do you plan to do with the rest of your life?” she asked inquisitively.

      “Well, at this point. I’m more or less day by day - but open to any options that may develop.” I looked at her to determine her reaction but she showed none. A slight smile. A penetrating gaze.

      I felt uplifted to be with someone like her but at the same time I was cautious - my mind moved back and forth to the missing call tonight. And to what tomorrow would bring. My cellphone began to ring and I pulled it out of my coat pocket. The voice on the other end spoke in a brief code - “0800 - Lakeview.” I understood this to mean tomorrow at the cove - right here at the hotel. Lakeview was the term to refer to a meeting at your residence and by the water - so the cove was the only solution. Process of elimination. She looked at me with some concern when I so quickly put it back.

      “Wrong number, I suppose.”

      “I suppose,” she answered back. “One of your girlfriends?”

      “Let’s walk to the cove - have you ever seen it at night?”

      “No, never...my first time here at the hotel.”

      “It’s quite magnificent at night...it’s quite startling, actually.”

      “I’m open to new experiences...” she answered.

      We walked to the cove and the darkness gave way to a bright view of a roaring ocean. A strange feeling came over me as we approached the area. Two of the three men who had disembarked the helicopter were there - and as they saw us approach they looked hard at us and then went on their way. One had a VHF radio...the other carried a briefcase and was wearing an expensive suit - Bernini from what I could tell. They had been having a private conversation but when they saw us approaching they decided to leave.

      We entered the area above the cove and looked down over two hundred feet to the beach below. It was a rocky beach - the waves were loud and the path was only lit part of the way down. “On second thought, maybe night time is not the best time to investigate this particular cove,” I said. She looked like she agreed. It was time for a look out to sea, but not to investigate the circular path down to the water.

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