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- Author: Derek Fee
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“Nothing could be further from the truth.” The launch had reached the yacht and the passengers were disembarking. “Right now I need some fun and a little booze.”
“I think you’ll find that Mr Karakatis will have provided plenty of both.” She took the hand of a uniformed sailor.
Kane watched her climb on board the yacht. It was only an operation. He wasn’t emotionally involved. Yeah.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Kane made his way to the bathroom and communed with nature. He drank two glasses of water to rehydrate and tried to wish his headache away. The party on the yacht was a blur of drinking, dancing and talking bullshit. He had managed to stay on script, but only just. He was grateful that there was a day’s rest before he had to perform. The plan was for a bit of R and R. He’d catch a few rays and maybe avail himself of some of the services of the hotel spa. But first, he’d put on the feedbag. He’d heard the hotel provided a sumptuous buffet breakfast.
His throttleman was seated at a table on her own when he entered the breakfast room. They’d had a couple of dances at the party but Morweena was intent on circulating while he was still fighting the first stage of grief. He was somewhere he didn’t want to be and was afraid it showed.
“May I?” He picked up a plate of food and pulled back a chair at Morweena’s table.
“Be my guest. Have you fully recovered?”
“I wasn’t that bad, was I?”
“It was a party. You looked more like you were at a wake.”
“It’s the Celtic way. We’re a morose bunch. At least you seemed to be enjoying yourself.”
“I didn’t think you noticed.”
“It was hard to ignore the belle of the ball.”
David strode over to their table. “Hello, you two, enjoy the party last night?”
“When you’ve been to one party on a million-dollar yacht, you’ve been to them all.” Kane drank his coffee.
“I know what you mean,” David turned to his daughter. “How about you, Morweena?”
“I had a smashing time. Lucky though that I took Mark along. Karakatis was all over me. He can get a little persistent in his attentions.”
“Rather you than me as far as Karakatis was concerned,” David said. “Every time that damn man’s name is mentioned I fancy that I can feel his warm breath on the back of my neck. It’s a damned uncomfortable feeling knowing you’re being stalked by one of the western world’s best-known corporate raiders. Penhalion Marine would only represent small fry to Karakatis but it means everything in the world to me. Not a man to take too lightly is our Dinos Karakatis. Now, what had you planned for today?”
“I thought that since there was nothing else for us to do that Mark and I might take a trip along the coast following the route of the race.”
“Some people have all the luck,” David said. “You spend the day gallivanting around while the rest of us pump sweat getting the boat ready. It’s a very unfair world.”
“I thought this was a day off,” Kane said. “I was thinking about a bit of sun-worshipping and a visit to the hotel spa. I’m still feeling the effects of last Sunday’s race.”
“There’s no such thing as a day off.” David smiled. “You’ll be out in the boat tomorrow, use today to familiarise yourself with the course.” He kissed Morweena on the cheek. “Enjoy yourselves.” He strode off towards the exit.
“We have two possibilities,” Morweena said. “We can rent a speedboat and take a trip over the course or we can go drive along the coast and view the course from the land side.”
Kane could feel his stomach making the decision. “No boats today. Let’s take the drive.”
Morweena had chosen to take the road which ran along the Riviera towards the Italian border and the town of Ventimiglia. On their right, the land fell away towards a deep blue sea, while inland the hills rose, towered over here and there by feudal castles surrounded by a cluster of white village houses. The coastal communities through which they passed were constructed along palm-lined promenades while on the hills, stands of Aleppo pines dominated the landscape. They drove silently along the peninsula of the Cap d’Antibes looking down on the twin islands of Sainte Marguerite and Saint-Honorat standing like two spiked green oases set into a background of deep blue. The nineteenth-century abbey buildings on Saint-Honorat stood out like black dots beneath the eleventh-century fortress which stands at the sea’s edge. Sheltering in the lee of Sainte Marguerite, Morweena could see the white hull of Athena. On the way, she pointed out some of the physical features of the course.
Kane listened but his mind was still on the wooden coffin as it slid along the gurney on its way into the furnace. His mother death wasn’t unexpected. The anger he felt wasn’t against her but at himself. He and the lousy job he’d chosen had killed the people that were closest to him. If that was a fact, why the hell was he still doing it? Wasn’t he smart enough to say that enough was enough? All he needed to do was to pick up a phone and tell Davenport where he could stuff his bloody job. Why didn’t he have the balls to do it. He looked at Morweena. If he pulled out now, David and she would have time to engage another driver. One with a lot more experience than him and who was concentrated on helping the Penhalions save their business and not trying to expose a drug smuggler. Why wasn’t he prepared to do the honourable thing?
“I don’t think you’ve heard a word I said over the last half hour. You’re a million miles away.”
“I’ve heard every single word.”
“Okay tell me about the course.”
“It’s out there somewhere.” He waved his hand towards the sea.
“Your concentration has been non-existent since your return. Is there a problem?”
Kane felt the hot Riviera air sweeping
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