‘LOOK AT YOU, Tom,’ said Marnie, standing on the pier with her hands on her hips. ‘So pale, except for that sunburned nose.’ After weeks in bitterly cold Washington surrounded by East Coast girls in long woollen skirts and heavy overcoats, Hamilton couldn’t resist a glance at Marnie’s bare shoulders and deep cleavage revealed by her two-piece swimsuit.

‘And you look wonderful,’ he said as he looked in her eyes, ‘with that golden tan.’

With an appreciative smile and a toss of her sun-bleached hair, Marnie started for the house and said, ‘C’mon. You can leave your things for Henry. Philip’s dying to hear all about Washington.’

By the time Hamilton emerged from a refreshing shower, Henry had laid his things out neatly at the foot of the bed in the guest suite. Well, Hamilton thought contentedly, it looked like Eves was going to be home for the foreseeable future. He dressed and found his way to the panelled den, and hearing voices, up the stairs to Sir Philip’s study. ‘Hello, Tom,’ said Sir Philip, casually elegant in a linen jacket with a silk scarf knotted at his shirt collar. ‘Have a seat.’

After a quick glance around the study, the shelves of which contained a complete, leather-bound set of Kipling and a collection of Chinese jade, Hamilton settled on the sofa with a view of the sea.

‘Well …’ said Sir Philip expectantly. ‘I gather from Colonel Donovan that he was rather reluctant to send you back.’

‘I’m afraid he found my story about the Nazi sub base a bit far-fetched. Until I persuaded him to give you a call, he was planning to send me to South America.’

‘He raised a good question about your cover. Though it’s doubtful you were identified by Ericsson’s men with your face blackened. Despite the risks, you’re a damn sight more useful to me than one of our SOE agents, and we haven’t much time.’

Hamilton leaned forward and asked, ‘What’s your assessment of the situation here? Any developments?’

‘Ericsson continues to employ virtually every able-bodied Bahamian on his construction project, and the Northern Lights has made two more trips to the mainland.’ Sir Philip reached into his pocket for his pipe and tobacco. ‘Considering that a month has passed since your reconnaissance,’ he continued as he filled the pipe and tamped the tobacco, ‘I’ve no doubt the project is nearing completion.’

‘Except for the canal,’ interjected Hamilton.

‘Precisely. Ericsson appears to be stymied by the local syndicate—’

‘Fronting for Oakes.’

Striking a match over the bowl of the pipe, Sir Philip drew deeply. ‘At any rate, Tom,’ he said, ‘now that you’re au courant, what are we going to do with you?’

‘An interesting question,’ said Marnie in her Tennessee accent as she appeared at the top of the stairs. She gave Hamilton an amused look and said, ‘I guess we’ll have to keep you in hiding.’ She walked over to her husband and kissed him on the cheek.

‘I’ve been working on an idea,’ said Hamilton. ‘I’d like to know what you think.’

‘Certainly,’ said Sir Philip, drawing on his pipe, which filled the sunlit room with a pleasant aroma.

‘You remember that lawyer I hired? Dobbs?’ Sir Philip nodded with the pipe clenched in his teeth. ‘Well, my instructions before leaving town were to tell the local syndicate to go to hell. I wouldn’t pay them a dime for that property, saddled with such a large mortgage.’

‘So I recall,’ said Sir Philip.

‘My take on Sir Harry Oakes,’ continued Hamilton, ‘is that he’s the competitive type. If somebody else wants something, then, by God, he’ll make damn sure they don’t get it. Or at least try. And I’m sure he’s aware Ericsson wants it too.’

‘What do you have in mind?’ asked Sir Philip, putting his pipe aside.

‘Taking the syndicate up on their offer,’ replied Hamilton with a grin. ‘Instructing Dobbs to go back to them with a cashier’s cheque for a thousand dollars and an earnest money contract.’

‘OSS would advance such a sum?’ asked Sir Philip sceptically.

‘I’ll use my own funds. It might not be a bad investment, even at such an inflated price.’

‘I thought you were supposed to lie low, darlin’,’ said Marnie.

‘I don’t intend to let on that I’m in Nassau. As far as Dobbs is concerned, I’m in Texas.’

‘And if the syndicate accepts your offer?’ asked Sir Philip.

‘I’ll arrange a nice spread in the local paper. “Wealthy investor buys Hog Island property and announces plans for world-class hotel.”’

‘But what about Oakes?’ protested Marnie, crossing her legs and dangling a sandal from a slender foot. ‘I thought these local merchants were just straw men?’

‘I’m betting greed will trump loyalty,’ said Hamilton. ‘I suspect these Bay Street gentlemen resent the way the great Sir Harry Oakes throws his weight around.’

‘OK,’ said Marnie with a fascinated expression, ‘what happens next?’

‘Once the news is out, the ball’s in play,’ replied Hamilton with a sparkle in his intelligent, grey eyes. ‘Oakes will weigh in, trying to break the contract, and Ericsson will … well, to be honest, I don’t know what Ericsson will do. I’m hoping it will throw him off stride.’ Hamilton gave Sir Philip an expectant look.

‘That’s it?’ said Sir Philip. ‘The sum and substance of your plan?’

‘Not entirely. I mean, I didn’t have to come back to Nassau just to make an offer for that property.’

‘True,’ said Sir Philip.

‘I’ve got to find a back channel to Ericsson.’

‘How do you plan to do that?’ asked Marnie.

‘Through Evelyn. She’s not only close to the duke and duchess,’ said Hamilton earnestly, ‘but also to Ericsson. And, frankly, I know I can trust her.’

Sir Philip frowned, tapping the bowl of the pipe in his palm. ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘I fear word that you’re in Nassau could leak out. Ericsson’s men are bound to be watching. Perhaps there’s another explanation for your desire to see Mrs Shawcross?’

‘Of course there is,’ said Marnie, her dark eyes flashing. ‘Lord, Tom, I warned you—’

‘And I told you not to worry. Sure I want to see her again,’ he said, looking at Sir Philip. ‘And I believe she could be extremely helpful.’

‘Well,’ said Sir Philip in a resigned tone, ‘use your discretion.’

‘I’d like to send her a note,’ said Hamilton. ‘Maybe Carter could deliver it.’

Marnie stood up abruptly and walked to the window. ‘Carter’s doing fine,’ she said, turning to face Hamilton. ‘But let me deliver your note. I’d like to explain a thing or two to Evelyn.’

‘An excellent idea,’ said Sir Philip. ‘Less likely to arouse suspicion.’

Hamilton nodded. ‘All right,’ he conceded. ‘We’ve got a plan.’

The satin finish of the dining-room table at Shangri-La gleamed in the soft light of an antique silver candelabrum. Evelyn Shawcross sat across from Nils Ericsson, picking at her food and struggling to make small talk. When she’d received the hand-written dinner invitation, she naturally assumed the party would include the usual social circle surrounding the wealthy industrialist, perhaps the Duke and Duchess of Windsor and the duchess’s Aunt Bessie. But she’d been alone with her host for over an hour.

‘You’re sure you won’t have dessert?’ asked Ericsson. ‘The cook prepared an excellent strüdel.’

‘Thank you, but no,’ said Evelyn, erect in the high-backed chair, her hands folded in her lap.

‘Coffee, perhaps?’ said Ericsson. ‘Or a liqueur?’

‘A demitasse of coffee,’ replied Evelyn.

Without taking his eyes from her, Ericsson depressed a buzzer under the carpet, summoning a young servant, who appeared almost instantly, wearing gloves and a starched white jacket. ‘Bring the decanter of vintage cognac,’ commanded Ericsson in Swedish, ‘and a demitasse of coffee for Mrs Shawcross. Cream or sugar?’ he asked Evelyn, reverting to English.

‘No, thank you,’ she said, her heart sinking with the realization that the intimate evening was not drawing to a close.

‘Do you mind if I smoke?’ asked Ericsson, reaching for a silver case from his dinner jacket as the door closed behind the servant.

‘Of course not.’

Extracting a cigarette, he tapped it on the case and then lit it. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask you, Evelyn,’ he said, ‘what’s become of your American friend?’

So that’s it, she thought, her heart beginning to pound. ‘My American friend?’

‘Yes, the gentleman who escorted you to the duke’s Christmas ball.’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Evelyn, quickly feigning a smile. ‘Tom Hamilton.’

‘Yes. Mr Hamilton,’ said Ericsson with exaggerated emphasis. The servant reappeared and served Evelyn a petite cup and saucer before placing a snifter and the decanter of cognac at Ericsson’s elbow. ‘What’s become of Mr Hamilton?’ asked Ericsson casually as he poured a glass.

‘Why, he left before Christmas. I assumed you were kept informed of such things.’

‘I am,’ agreed Ericsson after taking a sip and running his tongue over his lips. ‘But my question to you, Evelyn, is where has he gone? I presume he confided in you.’ Taking a pull on his cigarette, he exhaled a cloud of smoke, which drifted across the flickering candles.

‘Not really,’ she said as nonchalantly as she was able. ‘Merely that he was going home, to attend to business.’

‘Surely you don’t believe such a transparent falsehood?’ said Ericsson with surprising vehemence. ‘The man’s obviously an espionage agent.’ Leaning back in his chair, he swirled the glass and took a sip.

Evelyn’s pale face betrayed no reaction to the assertion, though inwardly she despaired that it was true. ‘I gather you invited me here,’ she said coldly, ‘for this intimate dinner party, thinking you could frighten me—’

‘I’m merely seeking information,’ said Ericsson with a menacing glare.

‘But you were mistaken. The truth is, I have no idea whether he’s a spy or where he was going when he left. I supplied you with what little information I had, and now it’s your affair.’

‘Perhaps,’ said Ericsson with a shrug. ‘But I should warn you: in case you should hear even a word from … your lover; or even better, if you should see him … you must tell me at once. Your husband is in a very – how should I put it? A very delicate position.’ Evelyn trembled involuntarily, staring into Ericsson’s pale-blue eyes.

‘So long as you co-operate,’ he continued in a conversational tone, ‘your husband should be fine. But if you should fail to honour your commitments … Well, I’m sure you understand.’

Breathing slowly, Evelyn raised the delicate cup to her lips and took a sip. Putting the coffee aside, she said, ‘It’s late and I should go.’

‘The launch is at your disposal,’ said Ericsson pleasantly.

Escorted by one of Ericsson’s men to the sleek powerboat, Evelyn stood at the railing, staring forlornly at the lights of the British Colonial Hotel and Government House as the crew manoeuvred the boat alongside the public dock at Prince Georges Wharf. As the engine idled, troubling the black water at the stern, a crewman wordlessly took her by the elbow and steadied her for the step onto the dock. Clutching her stole over her bare shoulders, Evelyn hurried up the steps, where a jitney was waiting.

‘Evenin,’ ma’am,’ said the driver as she opened the door and slid inside. ‘Where to?’

‘Greycliff,’ she answered simply.

‘Yes, ma’am,’ he said and shifted into gear. Once the taxi was halfway up the block, a black sedan emerged from the shadows, following in the darkness without headlights. When the taxi stopped at Greycliff, the driver of the sedan pulled over in the shadows and watched as Evelyn paid the fare and hurried into the sanctuary of her home.

‘Yes, I have the note,’ said Marnie irritably as she stood beside the Bentley, tying her silk scarf under her chin. ‘In my handbag.’ She slid behind the wheel and leaned over to adjust her sunglasses in the rear-view mirror.

‘OK,’ said Tom, closing the door with a reassuring chunk and leaning against the side of the cream-coloured convertible. ‘Remember what I said about seeing her alone, away from the servants. There’s a porch upstairs—’

‘Relax,’ said Marnie, as she peered at him over her sunglasses. ‘We’ll have a nice little visit – assuming she’s home – and I’ll be back in a jiffy.’ With a slight grimace, she turned the key, and placing her left arm on the seatback, backed out the gravel drive. With a smile and a wave, she shifted gear and hit the accelerator. Hamilton stood with his hands on his hips, watching as the powerful car disappeared down the drive. Fifteen minutes later, Marnie pulled over in front of the elegant Shawcross mansion, switched off the engine and untied her scarf, shaking out her thick blonde hair. Taking her handbag from the seat, she hurried up the flagstones to the door. After ringing the bell, she glanced up at the shuttered windows, struck by an unexpected pang of jealousy at the thought of Tom alone with Evelyn. After a few moments, a Bahamian servant answered the door, examining Marnie with a mildly curious expression.

‘Hello,’ she said with a smile. ‘Is Mrs Shawcross in?’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

‘I’m Lady Sassoon. I have something for her.’

‘Oh, yes, ma’am,’ he said politely, holding open the door, painted the same shade of green as the shutters. ‘I’ll let the missus know you’re here.’

As she walked inside, the servant started up the wide staircase. Placing her sunglasses in her handbag, Marnie briefly examined herself in a mirror before her gaze fell on a framed photograph of a beautiful young girl, wearing what Marnie would have called her best ‘Sunday-school dress’ and holding the hands of her rather severe looking parents.

‘Hello, Marnie,’ said Evelyn, standing on the stairs with her hand on the banister. Dressed in a blue satin robe and bedroom slippers, she looked uncharacteristically fragile.

‘I hope I didn’t disturb you,’ said Marnie.

‘No,’ said Evelyn as she continued down the stairs. ‘I’ve been up since dawn. I just haven’t had the inspiration to dress. What a pleasant surprise.’

‘You have a beautiful home,’ Marnie said graciously. ‘I apologize for dropping in.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ said Evelyn. ‘It’s lonely here, and I’m always happy to have company. Let’s go into the sunroom and have tea … or a drink, if you’d prefer.’ Without waiting for a response, she started down a passageway that led to an airy room overlooking the garden. ‘How is Sir Philip?’ she asked, as she entered the sun-filled room, placing her hands on an overstuffed armchair covered in bright chintz.

‘Philip’s fine. A bit bored, I’m afraid, and wishing he was closer to the action.’

‘Would you care for tea? I’ll call Samuel.’ She reached for a small brass bell.

‘No, thanks,’ said Marnie as she sat on the sofa. ‘I can only stay a minute.’

‘All right,’ said Evelyn as she put down the bell. She sat in the comfortable chair and gave Marnie an expectant look.

‘I have something for you,’ said Marnie, opening her handbag and removing a small envelope. Evelyn glanced briefly at the envelope and then gave Marnie another inquisitive look. ‘Before we go any further,’ said Marnie, tapping the envelope on her palm, ‘we need to get a few things straight.’

‘I see,’ said Evelyn stiffly.

‘I’m here because Tom asked me to come.’

‘Tom?’ said Evelyn softly. ‘He’s back …’

‘Listen, Evelyn,’ said Marnie, ‘we’re both married women, though I wouldn’t know what it’s like to be so far away from my husband, and for such a long time. But I don’t want Tom getting hurt. And I don’t mean just his feelings.’

Evelyn nodded, staring straight ahead, as though looking right through Marnie. ‘Of course,’ she murmured.

‘You may think this sounds screwy,’ Marnie continued, ‘but he could be in real danger. Whatever happens between the two of you, just promise me you’ll be careful and do as he says.’

Evelyn swallowed and took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. ‘I’m not sure I understand,’ she said with some difficulty. ‘But of course I’ll be careful.’

‘Just don’t let on that you know he’s back,’ said Marnie. ‘To anyone. OK?’

Evelyn nodded.

‘There,’ said Marnie with a sigh. ‘I’ve said my piece.’ Rising from the sofa, she reached out to hand Evelyn the envelope. ‘It’s a note from Tom,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what it says – I’m just the delivery girl.’

Biting her lip as she examined the envelope, Evelyn looked up and said, ‘Thank you,’ in a barely audible voice.

‘Bye,’ said Marnie, with a look that suggested pity more than encouragement. ‘I can see myself out.’

‘Goodbye,’ said Evelyn. She watched as Marnie walked quickly from the room, listening for the sound of the front door. When she was alone, Evelyn rose unsteadily and walked to the window. As she looked out over the garden, an image of Tom filled her mind, gracefully swimming the length of the long, blue-tiled pool. With a sigh of resignation, she tore open the envelope and read: