He had taken Claudia for a pre-dawn sail. The sail would be their last, or one of their last. They’d be leaving for Geneva in a couple of days. They’d be flying back with his father. Her mother would follow in a week to ten days. First she needed to go back to Cherry Creek, Colorado to pack and to settle her affairs.
He’d asked Claudia, “Do you think your mother will stay?”
“Yes, I do. She’s very fond of your father.”
“Will she try to change him?”
“Not the way you mean. She knows who he is. I guess we’re all who we are.”
That last remark seemed to invite a discussion, but Whistler chose to leave it alone. They drifted for a while, enjoying the quiet, and watched the glow building in the eastern sky, as they’d done so many times in the Caribbean.
She asked him, “What will we do with the boat?”
“I’ll arrange to have it brought over.”
“You’ve told me that it’s mine. Is that true?”
“You’ve seen the papers.”
She said, “It doesn’t really feel like mine anymore. It was taken from Felix Aubrey, correct?”
“I wouldn’t exactly say it was taken. It was part of a settlement that those people agreed to for putting that hole in your neck.”
“Where did he get it?”
“He had it seized. He stole it.”
She asked, “From whom?”
“It was taken from a crooked Florida lawyer. Or maybe a crooked banker, I forget. Don’t tell me you’re thinking of giving it back.”
“Oh, no. Not to them. But Leslie might like it.”
“A half million dollar yacht? I guess she would.”
“It would be a nice thing to do, don’t you think? After all, we’ll be living on land over there. And we’ll have all that travel. How much could we use it?”
The travel that she was referring to was a sort of a training program. His father had asked him to spend a few weeks in Westport being tutored in the business by Paul Bannerman. From there, they’d go to Washington, spend some time with Roger Clew whom he hadn’t seen since his mother’s funeral. It was Clew, incidentally, who’d used his State Department juice to see that none of them were detained.
After that, he and Claudia would go on to Moscow where they’d be under Leo Belkin’s wing for a month learning about Leo’s operation. Actually, “training” and “tutoring” were not the right words. He’d spend much of that time meeting powerful people, or rather, seeing to it that they knew who he was. Harry Whistler’s heir apparent, Paul Bannerman’s friend, and Leo Belkin’s respected associate. And those people would hear stories, some true, some legend. They would surely hear about Lockwood’s plane.
Whistler had told Claudia that she needn’t go with him. And, of course, she had answered, “Don’t be silly.” His father had said pretty much the same thing. He said, “They’ll all be dying to meet her.”
“Dad, what have you told them?”
“I only know what I hear. She already has quite a reputation.”
“Claudia, listen…on the subject of the boat…”
“I really think Leslie should have it.”
“Tell you what. Let’s ask her if she’d like to sail it over. An Atlantic crossing. A cruise up the Rhone. A week or two sailing on Lake Geneva. And we’ll show her the lodge in Chamonix.”
“You expect her to bring this boat over by herself?”
“No, of course not. I can hire a crew. But I bet she’d have no trouble finding her own. I bet Phil would come over. And maybe Jump. Maybe even Sergeant Moore. Would you like that?”
She smiled. “Yes, I would. That would be very nice.”
“Then, if you like, you can tell her it’s hers. On the other hand, we’ll have it on Lake Geneva. If you keep the boat there, they’ll come over again. That’s…one big advantage of not giving it away.”
She nodded. “That’s something to think about.”
It was possible, thought Whistler, that there, right then, he might have won an argument with Claudia. It was possible they they just might keep the boat.
The sun was rising. More birds were aloft.
He said, “Listen, Claudia…that time with Lockwood’s plane…”
“Let’s not talk about that sort of thing now. Hold my hand.”
“Well, we’ll need to talk sometime. It’s about reputations. There’s going to be an awful lot of talk about you. Even I am not sure I know what’s true and what isn’t.”
“Do you want to know something?” she asked. “I don’t either.”
“You don’t?”
“Well, I know what I am. And I know what’s been done. I’m just not sure who’s actually been doing it.”
“It’s you.”
“Am I crazy, Adam? Be honest. Do you think so?”
“If you are, I hope you never get well. The whole world should be your kind of crazy.”
“Thank you, Adam.”
“I’m going to quit trying to understand how you do it. I mean, whether it’s you or your friend, the white light. It’s time that I learned to…”
“Count your blessings? Me, too.”
“I love having you as my guardian angel. I’d love you just as much if you weren’t.”
“That’s good.”
“But I do have to ask…about those birds…about that plane…”
She raised his hand to her lips. She said, “Hush.”
“Claudia…I’m sorry…but I’d really like to know.”
“Hush, Adam. Watch the sunrise. Let it warm you.”
END
Whistler's Angel (The Bannerman Series) Page 42