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Dark deeds done dirt cheap. ACDC was on that already. No, wait. That was dirty deeds? Same deal.
As far as I was concerned, power corruptswas the motto that humans had stapled to their hearts. Immortality would fuck us up and bring out the worst in most people.
I hadn’t realized how much the doctor had cleaved toward religion. Roman gods were fairly well forgotten now? But sins were one of those things most religions loved to bang on about.
I frowned as I turned a page and found two lists, one on the left page, one on the right side. Past that, the book was blank.
The lists were names. The left one seemed male names, though some were foreign, and I’d have to check. The right listed only female names, probably. I halted and reread one name. Patricia Romanus. What was the connection between these names? Several of the others were people buried in the cemetery beyond this hut.
I was onto something here, but what was it? I didn’t recognize any of the names in the left-hand list. I really wanted to get hold of an internet search engine. It would have to wait until I returned and could use the laptop.
The rain continued; the day wore on. Late in the afternoon, it became obvious that this was my last chance.
Despite the rain, I went for a short dip in the sea, after all, I was only getting a little wetter and it was warmer than standing on the beach in the wind.
The lack of visibility was scary even though I’d swum there twenty times by now and seen nothing more dangerous than a turtle. Diving beneath made the world go silent and dim. If I pushed myself down and drifted on my back, I could sometimes see the rain spattering the surface between the waves. I could also imagine something I couldn’t see flashing up from the depths, latching onto my leg, and dragging me down.
I surfaced and reminded myself of Sartre and all that take risks to feel alive stuff. “Fuck, I need to do this.”
I dived and sought the tunnel. This time I was utterly determined, I kicked and kicked until deep and found the entry, and I recognized the sections by feel and everything was good until that gut-clenching emotion put a wrecking ball through my determination.
I fled again, scratched myself on a rock as I dragged myself past, then shot to the surface even more shaken, more exhausted, more despairing. I’d breathed in some water. I’d been so needy for air. I was going to drown myself doing this. Face it, this was impossible. I should give up. Why had I wanted to explore the tunnel? Because it was my only choice.
My choices had expanded since then.
I trudged up the beach, shivering, coughing a few times to hack up the last of some sea water I’d inhaled. The temperature was dropping.
I was ready to give up for the day, if not forever—except therewassomething down there, I felt it in my heart. I stepped inside the beach hut to dry off and grab the backpack. Inigo was waiting.
He sat in the chair, playing with a phone, and I was shocked by the thought it was mine. It was not mine. The color was wrong.
Casually he looked up from the screen of the phone and smiled. “The rain is going to end soon. The doctor will be flying back tonight. You should return now, shower, get ready to welcome them.”
“Oh. Sure.” I faltered then floundered into an explanation while I picked up the towel from beside the backpack. “I was just swimming, first time I tried since the rain and all… Nothing much else to…” He wouldn’t have looked in the pack? “How did you know where I was?”
He shrugged then stood and retrieved a black umbrella from the ground. “I know things. We have cameras watching the beach, the cliffs, in case of trespassers.”
“Shit.” Had I said that out loud? I had. “I mean that’s a good idea, but I’m not keen on being watched while swimming.” Why did I admit to all the swimming?
The lifting of his black eyebrows and the rest of his expression said it all—incredulity and amusement. “For your safety, also.”
Didn’t he know I wasn’t supposed to swim alone?
“Mmm. Your car? I didn’t see it.”
“It’s behind the hut.”
All the better to freaking surprise me, of course.
After a final stare at the long scratch on my leg, one I was surprised to see was still bleeding, Inigo left me. I was a jumble of what-ifs and did-he-see-anything-else, as I dried properly and changed. I almost left the phone behind in a hiding spot but decided not to. The short drive to the mansion was slower than usual due to the light being poor and one of the headlights being shite.
Was Cassius coming back? Inigo hadn’t said. There could come a time when his boss would say no and terminate this mission of his. Or the doctor might decide to kick him off the island, for any number of reasons.
I did actually want to see him. Was it Stockholm Syndrome? Did that apply when you were stuck on an island of dreams?
Dressed, I joined the staff, and we drove in their convoy of two golf-cart cars to the helipad. The headlights on these were better maintained. There were cameras on the island that I could not detect. It was something to remember next time I did something clandestine.
The lights for the landing pad were on, and I could hear the helicopter overhead in its descent.
