The face in front of me was covered in the beginnings of a beard, the bloodshot eyes staring out wildly. I looked like hell, and felt worse. There was a razor next to the basin, but I decided it wasn’t a good idea: partly hidden under the beard, a long gash ran down the length of my right cheek, with grit visible inside it, and there were abrasions on my chin and throat. If I shaved, I might look even worse.
I picked up a monogrammed hand towel from a pile above the mirror and soaked a corner of it in the basin, then cleaned out as many of the wounds as I could, wincing with the pain, trying to remove as many of the surface problems as possible. Once I was satisfied, I picked up a glass from a mahogany sideboard, filled it with water from the tap, and drank down several glugs.
I walked over to one of the portholes and looked out at the island rapidly receding behind us. We’d made it. We were alive. But I couldn’t help feeling it was just a temporary reprieve. The boat was going at a healthy rate of knots – but would it be fast enough? Severn would comb every inch of the bay looking for our bodies. When he didn’t find us he would eventually come to the conclusion that we had escaped, and then his thoughts would turn to what Sarah might know, what she might have told me and what we might do next. Everything depended on how long he would keep up the search. He might start sending men into the nearby villages to look for us and ask around – or he might decide not to take any chances and immediately fly the helicopter straight to Rome. In which case, this would all have been for nothing, as he’d be waiting for us when we arrived.
I looked across at Sarah, obliviously asleep on a bank of padded orange seats in the corner of the cabin, beneath one of our host’s works of art, a blotchy oil painting that I thought might be a Sardinian sunset gone askew. On the floor, the end of a cigarette smouldered in a terracotta ashtray.
Balfour-Laing hadn’t had any food on board apart from some beans he’d found in a cupboard, which we had devoured straight from the tin, but the cigarettes had perhaps been more welcome. He had also offered us wine and beer, but neither of us was in any shape or mood for alcohol and had been more than grateful for water, and Sarah had soon fallen asleep. Some colour had finally returned to her face, and while the welts were still faintly visible on her neck, she otherwise looked in much better shape. Balfour-Laing had dug up a T-shirt and a pair of old overalls and, hunched over in them inelegantly, she looked like a child in hand-me-downs. I was wearing a pair of his trousers and a paint-flecked shirt – he hadn’t had any spare underwear, but I wasn’t about to complain. Both our outfits were completed by rather natty white plimsolls, part of a supply he kept on board for when the heat of the sun became too much for his guests to walk around barefoot on deck. Today was Sunday, he had told us: we had been imprisoned for nearly two days.
Perhaps feeling the force of my gaze on her, Sarah opened her eyes. She sat up and stared at me inquisitively.
‘Are we nearly there?’
‘Another hour or so.’
She nodded, and leaned over to pick up the pack of cigarettes from the floor. She slid one out and lit it. ‘Thank you,’ she said.
‘Thank you,’ I replied. ‘You got us aboard.’
She took a draught of the cigarette and looked at me intently. ‘That was nothing. You got me out of there.’
I changed the subject. ‘We need to prepare. What more can you tell me about those documents you read in Charles’ safe?’
‘Nothing,’ she said. ‘I told you all I know. I could only risk staying in his office for a few minutes. I saw the Service seal and “Stay Behind”, but there were hundreds of pieces of paper in the dossier and I didn’t have the time—’
‘I understand. Look, I have to stop whatever it is they are planning, so I’ll need to get back into that safe and find those documents.’
‘I know. I’ll help you.’
‘Good. I think it’s best if you tell me the combination now, and that we part ways once we reach the mainland. They won’t have put a stop on the airports yet and you’ll be able to get a flight to London soon enough. As soon as you land, go straight to Whitehall and ask to see the Home Secretary, urgently. Tell him what you know—’
‘But I don’t really know anything!’
‘You know enough. Tell Haggard everything you told me, and make sure to mention “Stay Behind”. He’ll understand. He’ll ask you for proof, of course: tell him it’s coming. Don’t mention me.’ It wasn’t ideal, by any means, but I had to get her out of the country – and out of the reach of Severn.
She leaned down and crushed the remains of her cigarette into the ashtray. ‘I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Paul, but I want to stop this, too, and running away won’t help. The Home Secretary isn’t going to do anything without any evidence, and you know it. You need me to show you where the documents are – there were hundreds of them.’
‘Describe them to me. I’ve a good memory.’
Her jaw was set. ‘You’re not getting rid of me.’
‘Look,’ I said, ‘this isn’t a time for heroics or impulse decisions. If this is what I think it might be, we’re dealing with a conspiracy that a lot of very powerful men will do anything to protect. And I mean anything.’
‘Don’t you dare lecture me,’ she said, her voice rising. ‘I was already committed to stopping them, remember – I was prepared to show you the documents the other night, and I haven’t found any reason to change my mind since. Quite the contrary.’
‘Tell me how to get into the safe, Sarah. This isn’t a game.’
She cut me off with a bitter laugh. ‘Do you think I don’t know that?’ she spat out. She pulled the collar of her shirt down sharply, exposing one of the larger welts. ‘Do you think I don’t know who we’re dealing with here?’ Her gaze narrowed. ‘I want to stop whatever it is he is planning, even it means I die running from him.’
Her voice had started to crack and she put a hand up to her face. I made to lean over, but she shook her head and stood up. She walked over to the other side of the cabin, next to a lifebuoy pinned to the wall with the name of the boat emblazoned on it: PARADISO. I could see her shoulders moving a little, and knew she was crying in both shame and fury.
I walked over and placed my hand on her shoulder, and eventually said something I didn’t want to: ‘All right, then. We’ll do it together.’
She turned to face me, her face streaked with tears. ‘Really?’ She burst into unintended laughter, and I had a dreadful hollow feeling inside. But I had no choice – I had to get into that safe. For a moment, I wondered about abandoning the whole idea and just flying to London with her and going to Haggard. But I knew she was right, and that that wouldn’t stop anything. I thought again of Colin Templeton and my vow to do some good finally, and my will hardened. I needed to get to the documents, and if she were prepared to take the risks I’d have to live with that, too. I didn’t want her death on my conscience, but she had her own will and I couldn’t force it – or I’d be as bad as her husband.
I nodded. ‘Let’s go upstairs and see Ralph. He might have some more of those beans.’ I did my best to smile convincingly, and passed her a towel to wipe away her tears.
‘Can’t we stay down here for a bit?’ she asked.
‘I told you, it’s perfectly safe. The deck area is completely sheltered and—’
‘It’s not that,’ she said. ‘I just don’t feel I’ve thanked you properly.’
I looked at her sharply. Something in her tone – was she toying with me?
‘I don’t need a reward,’ I said. ‘You’ve thanked me more than enough.’
She stood up. ‘At least let me return that kiss you gave me.’
She turned and needlessly drew together the curtains behind her, affording me a glimpse of the outline of her backside through the thin cotton of the overalls.
‘Look,’ I said, ‘we’re not out of the woods yet. Not by a long chalk. And you’ve been through a hell of a lot and I think—’
She placed a finger to my lips, and then leaned her face over so her mouth was by my left ear.
‘I liked the way you kissed me,’ she whispered. ‘Do it again.’
She moved my chin across to her lips. I opened my mouth and the hot wetness of her tongue jolted through me. I pressed against her. She abruptly took her mouth away from mine and started kissing my neck, then raised my arms and lifted off my shirt. We stumbled across to the padded seats and she kissed my chest, rubbing her chin against my hair there, and then flickering her tongue against my stomach.
‘Sarah…’
She shushed me, then placed her fingers at the waistband of my trousers, and slowly slipped them down. She smiled softly at the lack of underwear.
I couldn’t resist any longer. I caught hold of her by the hips and struggled to unclasp the overalls, cursing as I did. She laughed at my ineptitude but finally the clasp was undone, and she removed her T-shirt and bra while I ran my fingers down her body to her panties. I eased them down over her thighs and she gasped, clamping her eyes shut.
We stood there naked, gazing at each other, and then she pushed me down onto the seats. She leaned over me for a moment, breathing hard, and tipped her head back. Her neck and breasts glistened with sweat, and I pulled her closer to me, until we were locked tightly together. I clasped her shoulder to slow her rhythm and she cried out, then moved with me, rocking back and forth. She stared down at me, her hair covering her eyes, and I thought for a moment I could feel what she was feeling, her flesh parted by me, the shiver through her body. She began panting louder, gasping for air, and I moved more frantically, and she bit down on my hand as we rocked back and forth, faster and faster…
There was a fierce knocking on the door of the cabin, and we froze, our hearts thumping against each other.
‘I say,’ called a voice, ‘everything all right down there?’
I glanced at Sarah, a film of sweat covering her forehead.
‘Out in a minute!’ I called back.
There was no reply for a second, then a ‘Righty-ho!’ and the sound of receding footsteps.
Sarah leaned forward.
‘I do hope not,’ she whispered, and then slowly ran her tongue along the underside of my neck. I grabbed hold of her and took her with renewed ferocity.