The Spy I Loved (9 page)

The
trouble was, that this was the here and the now, this was not a
story—and she had no one to share it with. This was an experience,
perhaps even a potentially mystical one. If only the right person
were there.

With her
heart sinking a little, she lowered her eyes and turned her head.
She could always go up and party. Sit by the fire and talk. She’d
be welcome pretty much everywhere. With someone or other. They were
all pretty nice folks…guests, really.

Cabin
Seven, the vagaries of fate and the course of development being
what they were, wasn’t too far off. It was the second one in on the
beach side of the road. The lights were still on inside, and just
as the thought came, she saw his head and shoulders in the kitchen
window. He was face down slightly, probably washing up at the
kitchen sink.

She bit
her lip.

The
aurora borealis didn’t often come in summer, and the display,
stretching from horizon to horizon, was totally
spectacular.

She had
nothing to lose.

With the
resolve to at least give it a try, she put her head down. Marching
up the gravel road, around the corner and onto his front porch, she
raised her hand. Looking right and left, her uncle Dale or Mark
were nowhere in sight. This was a good thing, although one or two
guests were visible strolling along on their little road. They
didn’t matter nearly so much.

Taking a
breath, Lindsey thought of her first line, and then gave a couple
of gentle raps.

“
Frank? Can I call you back later?” His words came, dimly
caught through the thin walls of the cabin.

She could
hear Liam moving around in there. He most likely took a quick look
through the peephole. The front light came on above her. The latch
snapped and then her eyes were flooded with warm amber light and he
was right there.

He wore the earpiece and the thin extension microphone of a
hands-off telephone system. It occurred to her that he might have
been working. She had no
real
idea of what he did for a living.

After all…
they barely knew each
other.

Like the
proper fool she was, in spite of some initial planning, she blurted
out the first thing that came into her head.

“
What’s that wonderful smell?”

Liam
Kimball grinned. Shirtless, his hair was slightly disheveled and he
was barefoot. His hand came up and he pushed his hair down,
somewhat at least. There were one or two tufts still running
rampant.

He didn’t often have this kind of effect on women, but it was
something she had been unable to hide. Crikey, she couldn’t have
been a day over eighteen or nineteen. It was making him feel
distinctly
old,
possibly even grubby. Maybe even a little bit
dirty.

All of
this at the age of twenty-seven.

All of
this before he’d even really had a drink.

With this
one, you were sort of cautious about taking a real good
look.

“
Ah. What a wonderful question. I admire enthusiasm,
incidentally.” Reaching out, he took her hand.

Liam
Kimball pulled a slightly-bemused and unresisting Lindsey into his
comfortable, albeit temporary new lair. He closed the door behind
her, trying not over-linger on her protuberant nipples or the pert
belly-button revealed below her cut-off, hot pink tank
top.

Lindsey
had very nice shoulders, he observed.

“
I’m glad you asked that. It’s my own concoction. Not three,
not four, nor even
five
peppercorns. Mine is what I call
six peppercorn gravy
…”

He wasn’t
kidding either.

“
Man does not live by fish alone.” He’d done something with
beef, judging by the lingering aroma.

She stood
there with an odd look on her face as he beamed paternally, face a
little flushed. She caught the smell of alcohol. It was discernable
although he was far from out of control. A man like Liam would
rarely be out of control, she thought, chin up and looking on that
cautiously optimistic male face.

A man like Liam would be very much
in
control.

She
couldn’t help but look around.

Her eyes
widened slightly. She did her best to ignore a small automatic
pistol on the kitchen table, in the middle of being stripped down
to its constituent parts for cleaning and re-oiling…she closed her
mouth firmly. There was a computer, screen glowing blue, and
various bits of electronic equipment, of a kind she wasn’t
immediately familiar with but it might have been a fish-finder…???
There was something forbidding about the black glass eye on the
front end of it. The side was open, and it was trailing coloured
cables and wires all over the table top.

This was
probably a good time to mention the northern lights.

Her mouth
was opening to speak.

He turned
around to head for the kitchen and that’s when she saw the
scars.

***

Taking
her courage and her fate into her own hands, as she was so wont to
do of late, Lindsey breathlessly told Liam about the aurora. He
insisted on pouring a drink for her, straight scotch. He sipped
speculatively, looking at her until she took a nip of her own, the
fiery liquor burning a hole down her throat.

“
Whoa. But that’s good.” She’d tried it at school, of course,
at one party or another.

It did
the job well enough.

Only then
did Liam allow her to drag him, glasses in hand, out onto the beach
for a look.

He stood
stunned for a moment, still holding onto her hand. Standing there
at his side, he could smell her clean hair, and feel her warm
breath when she turned to speak. Out on the lake, a loon called.
Liam had been hearing yaps and long, mournful calls. He wasn’t sure
if that was wolves or coyotes but it was sure as hell one or the
other.

“
It’s lovely. Amazing.” He tore his eyes away and looked up
again, sensing her pleasure at this much attention.

Lindsey
took another quick gulp of liquor.

“
We could go for a boat ride.”

That calm
face turned to regard her steadily.

It
sounded as corny as all hell, and she hastened to assure him that
they could use his boat as it had navigation lights.

“
I’m not suggesting a canoe.” She giggled quietly, finally
letting go of the poor man’s hand. “It really is something, but
it’s not for everybody.”

Was she
challenging him?

It sure
sounded like it.

“
So what do you think?”

He could
not help but grin wryly and nod thoughtfully, like a proper
gentlemen.

Shit.

They
agreed to get sweaters and jackets and meet at the dock in five
minutes.

***

Lindsey
drove the boat with Liam sitting on the foremost seat and looking
up at the sky. They were bundled up, both wearing long pants and
jackets. She was glad they had changed, for a small plan was
forming in her mind. The bulk of the lifejacket, tightly strapped
around her was a real comfort.

They were a kilometre, maybe more, away from the camp. The
last faint pinpricks of light at the end of civilization and
society had disappeared. The boat chugged along, engine idling. She
switched it off, listening intently to the silence as if expecting
to hear some remark, someone on shore marveling at their nerve or
their good fortune…or something. Of course no one cared. Most
probably, no one had even noticed their departure. Night fishing
was less popular, but plenty of them did it. She looked around, but
didn’t see any other lights out there. It was a change for the
jaded fisherman, as much as anything else. It was a shitty thing,
but it was like everything in her life seemed to come back to
this
place
in
some kind of never-ending metaphor.

Finally
someone spoke.

“
...my cover story is that I am retired, collecting a small
pension and pecking away at my novel. The thing is to stay in
character and not draw unnecessary attention to
myself...”

That made
her laugh. The boat rocked, but not uncomfortably.

“
Oh, come on. It’s not that bad, is it?” She sat there looking
up at the colours, the bands of pink, orange, rose and blue that
swirled and danced in the heavens above.

Water
lapped the hull, rocking the boat. Boats flexed and there was
always some little leak and there was always something splashing
around down below. She turned on her light and had a look, finding
a cupful or two sloshing along the keel line. It was more sound
than fury. She switched off again.

He let
out an odd little noise. His dim form shifted around on the front
seat and the bottle gleamed in the starlight. She was amused when
he lit the pipe, hastily stuffed into a pocket with a pouch of the
aromatic weed.

“
No. It’s just that I really was burned out. And I’ve gotten a
job offer—it’s in the private sector. The money is scandalous, it
really is—” And of course he had no idea of what to do, so he had
taken the sabbatical.

That was
the great thing about the civil service, and the salaried nature of
his job, he explained. One of the benefits of a public school
education, but the term meant something different in
England.

She knew all about that from
Harry
Pott-Head and the Crimson Brothel.

Liam
chuckled. He threw his head back and laughed. The lady had a way
with words, totally irreverent and he had always liked
that.

No-holds-barred.

The boat
drifted, the motion gentle and soothing. With her jacket zipped up,
Lindsey was warm enough.

She sat
up carefully. His form, laying back on the inner prow, seemed
totally limp and relaxed as the boat moved under him. He was a
pretty cool customer, for all of his manners.

She could
feel his eyes upon her.

“
I’ve got an idea.”

“
Hmn?” He sounded half asleep, an impressive feat in a small
boat, at night, when one is out with a perfect stranger.

“
Just relax.” She gave a yank on the starter and the little
four-point-five horse-power motor burbled into life.

Liam
lifted his head in the gloom, wondering where they were
going.

She
turned the bow, noting more rocking motions as Liam carefully
un-stowed himself and got back up on the seat.

Lindsey
found the switch on the small control box and turned off their
navigation lights. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness as a small,
tree-covered island loomed up in the darkness. Liam’s first clue
that there was land there, was the ragged tops of jack pines
blocking out the stars down low near the horizon.

Switching
off again, the boat ghosted in, carried by its own impetus. The
pale strand of the beach grew lighter and longer. It was a place,
well-known, where pretty much everyone in the neighbourhood had
skinny-dipped at least once. Not always at night, either. She knew
the area well, and the big rocks were well off to the
left…hopefully. There were grey shapes sticking up out of the
water, right where they should be.

“
That’s very good navigation, Lindsey.” His voice was soft and
far-away.

Having
squirmed his legs over, one at a time, he was now facing forwards
with a paddle over the side to feel for bottom. He gave a couple of
awkward pulls.

Lindsey
pulled out her flashlight and pointing it forwards and down,
snapped it on.

“
Party Island. That’s what all the kids call it, anyways. It
doesn’t have any official name.” She clambered forward to the
middle seat. “Here.”

Liam took
the light from her hand and she pulled out the spare paddle. Dale
didn’t chintz out with the equipment. There were no plastic
department store toy paddles here. This one was a good five and
half feet long with a broad, leaf-shaped blade made from laminated
maple planks.

“
Hold still.” She stood up carefully, in a relaxed, knees-bent
pose, legs braced wide apart and with the paddle held vertical at
arm’s length, in what she had always thought of as the gondolier’s
pose.

With a
few strokes on each side, she soon had them rocking nose-first just
a metre off the beach. She sat down again while he got out, and
then Liam pulled the bow up onto the gently sloping sand. The boat
was steady now.

Taking
her hands and looking inscrutable in the moonlight, eyes just pools
of darkness glistening under the pale brow, he helped Lindsey
out.

He stood
there, looking off up their little beach to right and left. He’d
seen the northern lights before. This was an unusual display.
Standing on a deserted beach in the middle of the night with a
pretty girl was just icing on the cake.