"I read about it in the Houston papers."

"You would. If you were in Timbuctu you'd have read about it. That's the problem." ^ "But what has it got to do with you? Why should you fly to Nassau?"

I looked at Debbie thoughtfully and decided to cool it. She was in a worse temper than I had ever seen, but even though she was being unreasonable she deserved an explanation.

"Because I'm in the business," I said patiently.

"It affects the Theta Corporation. The Bahamas seems to have become a disaster area lately and we're trying to figure out ways of minimizing the damage. My guess is that the Ministry of Tourism will propose a levy on the industry to fund a new advertising campaign."

"Oh, I see."

I adopted a more conciliatory tone.

"Debbie, I know I haven't been around much lately, and I'm sorry- truly I am. I'll tell you what.

Let me get straightened out here and we'll take a holiday. Maybe go to Europe London and Paris. We've never had a holiday together, not a real one.

"

"A second honeymoon so soon after the first?" she said ruefully.

"But will you get straightened out? Won't there be something else come along to need your personal attention? And then something else? And something else? Won't it be like that?"

"No, it won't be like that. No man is indispensable in a decently run organization, not even the boss. And this run of bad luck can't go on for ever."

She shook her head slowly.

"No, Tom. I'm going away to think this out."

"Think what out, for God's sake?"

"Us."

"There's nothing wrong with us, Debbie. And can't you do your thinking here?"

"I'd rather go home be among my own family."

I took a deep breath.

"I wish you wouldn't, Debbie, I really do, but if you must I don't suppose I can stop you."

I 12

"No, you can't," she said, and left the room.

I poured myself another drink, again a stiff one. As I sat down I reflected that although I had told Debbie I had been shot at, never once had she asked if I had been hurt. We had gone so far down the line. The Mangan marriage appeared to be another part of the Bahamian disaster area.

Bobby Bowen flew me to Nassau early next morning and I spent the day arguing the toss with Ministry of Tourism officials and a crowd of apprehensive and tight-wadded hoteliers. Everyone agreed that something must be done; the argument was about who was going to pay for it. The argument went on all day and ended as I had predicted; there would be a levy on the industry and the Government would put up dollar for dollar.

I got home at about seven in the evening to find that Debbie had gone, but had left a note.

"Dear Tom, I meant what I said yesterday. I have gone back to Houston and will stay until the baby has come. I don't want to see you until then, but I suppose you will want to come just before the birth. That's all right with me, but I don't want to see you until then.

I have not taken Karen with me because I think it would be unfair to take her from her school and her friends and into what is a foreign country. Besides, she is your daughter.

I can't see clearly what has gone wrong between us, but I will be thinking hard about it, and I hope you do the same. It's funny but I still love you, and so I can end this note with Love, Debbie. "

I read that letter five times before putting it into my wallet, and then sat down to write my own letter asking her to come back. I had no great hopes that she would.

"3*

The week after Debbie left we lost Bill Finder.

He was taking four American fishermen to Stella Maris on Long Island which they were going to use as a base for hunting marlin and sailfish off Columbus Point and on the Tartar Bank in Exuma Sound. I was going with them, not because I am particularly charmed by American fishermen, but because Bill was flying me on to Crooked Island, 100 miles further south, where I was to look at some property on behalf of the Theta Corporation.

As it chanced I did not go because the previous evening I slipped in the bathroom and broke a toe which proved to be rather painful. To look at property and to walk a few miles on Crooked Island in that condition was not a viable proposition, so I cancelled.

Bill Pinder took off in a Navajo early next morning with the Americans. He was flying over Exuma Sound and was filing his intentions with Nassau radio when suddenly he went off the air in mid-sentence, so we know exactly when it happened. What happened I know now but did not know then. The Bahamas may be the Shallow Sea but there are bits like the Tongue of the Ocean and Exuma Sound which are very deep; the Tartar Bank rises to within seven fathoms of the surface in Exuma Sound but the rest is deep water.

The Navajo was never found, nor any wreckage, and Bill Pinder disappeared. So did the four Americans, and two of them were so influential on Wall Street that the event caused quite a stir, more than I and the Bahamas needed. After a couple of weeks some bits and pieces of clothing were washed up on one of the Exuma cays and identified as belonging to one of the Americans.

The death of Bill Pinder hit me hard. He was a good man, and the only better light plane pilot I know is Bobby Bowen. It is hard for blacks like Bill and Bobby to achieve a commercial pilot's ticket, or at least it was when they pulled off the trick. I suppose it is easier now.

There was a memorial service which I attended and to which many of the Corporation employees came, as many as could be spared without actually closing down the hotels. A lot of BASRA pilots were there, too. After the service I had a word with Bobby Bowen; I had not had a chance to talk to him much because, being an aircraft short, he was an overworked man. I said, "What happened, Bobby?"

He shrugged.

"Who knows? There'll be no evidence coming out of Exuma Sound." He thought for a moment.

"He was filing with Nassau at the time so he'd be flying pretty high, about 10,000 feet, to get radio range. But why he fell out of the sky…?" He spread his hands.

"That was a good plane, Tom. It had just had its 300-hour check, and I flew it myself three days earlier." He grimaced a little.

"You'll hear talk of the Bermuda Triangle; pay no heed it's just the chatter of a lot of screwy nuts who don't know one end of an airplane from the other."

I said, "We'll need another plane and another pilot."

"You won't get one like Bill," said Bobby.

"He knew these Islands right well. About another plane something bigger?" he said hopefully.

"Perhaps. I'll have to ta lk it over with the board. I'll let you know."

We watched the Pinder family walking away from the church. Bobby said, "It's bad for Meg Pinder. Bill was a good husband to her."

"She'll be looked after," I said.

"The pension fund isn't broke yet."

"Money won't cure what's wrong with her," said Bobby, unconsciously echoing what Perigord had said about Bayliss's wife, and I felt a stab of shame.

But how could I know that someone was trying to kill me?

Billy Cunningham paid a flying visit. He came without "5 warning at a weekend and found me at the house where I was packing a few things to take to my suite at the Royal Palm. We talked about Bill Pinder and he said the usual conventional things about what a tragedy it was, and we talked about getting another aircraft. He appeared to be a little nervous so I said, " Stop pussy-footing, Billy. Sit down, have a drink, and get it off your chest. Are you an emissary? "

He laughed self-consciously.

"I guess so. I've had obligations laid on me."

"Cunningham obligations?"

"Score one for you I never did think you were stupid. You had that subtle look in your eye when you were inspecting us back home when you married Debbie. I suppose you didn't miss much."