Robert hurried down to the beach where he had arranged to rent the motor boat.

“Good morning.”

The owner of the boat looked up. “Bonjour, monsieur. Are you ready to take it out?”

Robert nodded. “Yes.”

“How long will you want it for?”

“No more than an hour or two.”

Robert gave the man the rest of the deposit, and stepped down into the boat.

“Take good care of it,” the man said.

“Don’t worry,” Robert assured him, “I will.”

The owner untied the painter, and moments later the boat was headed out to sea, racing toward the Halcyon. It took Robert ten minutes to reach the yacht. As he approached it, he saw Susan and Monte Banks standing on the deck. Susan waved to him and he could see the anxiety in her face. Robert manoeuvred the small boat next to the yacht and tossed a line to a deckhand.

“Do you want to bring it aboard, sir?” the man called.

“No, let it go.” The owner would find it soon enough.

Robert walked up the ladder to the spotless teak deck. Susan had once described the Halcyon to Robert, and he had been impressed, but in actuality it was even more impressive. The Halcyon was two hundred and eighty feet long, with a luxurious owner’s cabin, eight double suites for guests, and cabins for a crew of sixteen. It had a drawing room, a dining room, an office, a saloon and a swimming pool.

The ship was propelled by two 1250 horsepower sixteen-cylinder turbo-charged caterpillar D399 diesel engines, and carried six tenders. The interior design had been done in Italy by Luigi Stur-chio. It was a floating palace.

“I’m glad you made it,” Susan said.

And Robert had the impression that she was ill at ease, that something was wrong. Or was it just his nerves?

She looked absolutely beautiful, and somehow, he was disappointed. What the hell had I expected? That she would look pale and miserable?

He turned to Monte. “I want you to know how much I appreciate this.”

Monte shrugged. “Glad to help you out.”

The man was a saint.

“What’s your plan?”

“I’d like you to turn and head due west to Marseilles. You can drop me off the coast and …”

A man in a crisp white uniform approached. He was in his fifties, heavyset, with a neatly trimmed beard.

“This is Captain Simpson. This is …” Monte Banks looked at Robert for help.

“Smith. Tom Smith.”

Monte said, “We’ll be heading for Marseilles, Captain.”

“We’re not going into Elba?”

“No.”

Captain Simpson said, “Very well.” He sounded surprised.

Robert scanned the horizon. All clear.

“I’d suggest we go below,” Monte Banks said.

When the three of them were seated in the saloon, Monte asked, “Don’t you think you owe us an explanation?”

“Yes, I do,” Robert said, “but I’m not going to give you one. The less you know about this whole affair the better. I can only tell you that I’m innocent. I’m involved in a political situation. I know too much, and I’m being hunted. If they find me, they’ll kill me.”

Susan and Monte exchanged a look.

“They have no reason to connect me with the Halcyon,” Robert went on. “Believe me, Monte, if there were any other way for me to escape, I would have taken it.”

Robert thought of all the people who had been killed because he had tracked them down. He could not bear to have anything happen to Susan. He tried to keep his voice light. “I would appreciate it for your own sakes, if you didn’t mention that I was ever aboard this ship.”

“Of course not,” Monte said.

The yacht had slowly swung around and was heading west.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have to have a word with the captain.”

Dinner was an awkward affair. There were strange undercurrents that Robert did not understand, a tension that was almost tangible. Was it because of his presence? Or was it something else? Something between the two of them? The sooner I get away from here, the better, Robert thought.

They were in the saloon having an after-dinner drink when Captain Simpson came into the room.

“When will we reach Marseilles?” Robert asked.

“If the weather holds, we should be there tomorrow afternoon, Mr Smith.”

There was something about Captain Simpson’s manner that irritated Robert. The captain was gruff, almost to the point of being rude. But he must be good, Robert thought, or Monte would not have hired him. Susan deserves this yacht. She deserves the best of everything.

At eleven o’clock Monte looked at his watch and said to Susan, “I think we had better turn in, darling.”

Susan glanced at Robert. “Yes.”

The three of them rose.

Monte said, “You’ll find a change of clothes in your cabin. We’re about the same size.”

“Thank you.”

“Good night, Robert.”

“Good night, Susan.”

Robert stood there, watching the woman he loved going off to bed with his rival. Rival? Who the hell am I kidding? He’s the winner. I’m the loser.

Sleep was an elusive shadow, dancing just out of reach. Lying in his bed, Robert was thinking that on the other side of the wall, only a few feet away, was the woman he loved more than anyone in the world. He thought of Susan lying in her bed, naked … she never wore a nightgown … and he felt himself beginning to get an erection. Was Monte making love to her at this moment or was she alone? … and was she thinking of him and remembering all the great times they had had together? Probably not. Well, he would be out of her life soon. He would probably never see her again.

It was dawn before he closed his eyes.

In the communications room at SIFAR, radar was tracking the Halcyon. Colonel Cesar turned to Colonel Johnson, and said, “Too bad we couldn’t intercept him at Elba, but we’ve got him now! We have a cruiser standing by. We’re just waiting word from the Halcyon to board her.”

Day Twenty-One

Early in the morning Robert was on deck, looking out over the calm sea. Captain Simpson approached him. “Good morning. It looks like the weather is going to hold, Mr Smith.”

“Yes.”

“We’ll be in Marseilles by three o’clock. Will we be staying there long?”

“I don’t know,” Robert said pleasantly. “We’ll see.”

“Yes, sir.”

Robert watched Simpson stride off. What was there about the man?

Robert walked back to the stern of the yacht and scanned the horizon. He could see nothing, and yet … In the past, his instincts had saved his life more than once. He had long ago learned to rely on them. Something was wrong.

Over the horizon out of sight, the Italian Navy cruiser Stromboli was stalking the Halcyon.

When Susan appeared for breakfast, she looked pale and drawn.

“Did you sleep well, darling?” Monte asked.

“Fine,” Susan said.

So they didn’t share the same cabin! Robert felt an unreasonable sense of pleasure from that knowledge. He and Susan had always slept in the same bed, her naked, nubile body spooning into his. Jesus, I’ve got to stop thinking like this.

Ahead of the Halcyon, on the starboard bow, was a fishing boat from the Marseilles fleet, bringing in a fresh catch.

“Would you like some fish for lunch?” Susan asked.

Both men nodded. “Fine.”

They were almost abreast of the fishing boat.

As Captain Simpson walked by, Robert asked, “What is our ETA to Marseilles?”

“We’ll be there in two hours, Mr Smith. Marseilles is an interesting port. Have you ever been there?”

“It is an interesting port,” Robert said.

In the communications room, at SIFAR, the two colonels were reading the message that had just come in from the Halcyon. It read simply: “Now.”

“What’s the Halcyon’s position?” barked Colonel Cesar.

“They’re two hours out of Marseilles, heading for the port.”

“Order the Stromboli to overtake and board her immediately.”

Thirty minutes later, the Italian Navy cruiser Stromboli was closing in on the Halcyon. Susan and Monte were at the fantail of the yacht, watching the warship racing toward them.