‘Wait a minute, damn it!’ Sloan called after him.
But Hatcher vanished into the swirling black smoky mist.
‘The world is divided into the shit-throwers and the shit-throwees, Hatcher,’ Sloan yelled after him. ‘Remember that. The throwees have damn little to recommend them.’
Sloan leaned back against the wall. The pain in his side burned deeper, but he turned his mind away from it as he worked up a story for the Thai major, the Mongoose, when he showed up.
He didn’t hear Tollie Fong drag himself painfully out of the river behind him, didn’t hear him creep across the dock, his feet squishing under him. Fong was almost on top of him before he became aware of his presence and turned — just in time to see the deadly dagger drop silently through the air and feel its awful point pierce his throat.
FISHING
Hatcher lay flat on his back staring at the ceiling. The boat rocked gently in the evening breeze, occasionally bumping the dock. He felt safe here and secure. It was good to be back home. After twelve hours of sleep his furnaces were beginning to fire up again. He watched a sliver of sunlight move slowly across the ceiling and vanish as the sun set. The mantle of darkness brought with it the night birds, who started calling to one another. He heard the car cruise slowly into the parking lot, its wheels crushing the oyster shells under them, and then the familiar footsteps. He felt the boat rock ever so gently. His eyes closed, and a moment later he felt her sit on the edge of the bed.
‘You’re late,’ he said without opening his eyes.
‘I went by the Crab Trap. Got us some shrimp and clam chowder,’ she said. ‘I didn’t think either of us felt like cooking tonight.’
He reached up, puller her gently down beside him, and she nuzzled his neck with her face.
I was thinking,’ he said. Why don’t we crank up the old scow and take a run out to the reef, eat out there, maybe even go for a moonlight swim.’
‘The ocean’s getting cold,’ she said.
‘Sure, I’ll bet it’s a freezing seventy-five degrees out there.’
There was a difference in their metabolism. She was always cold and he was always warm. What was comfortable to him raised goose bumps on her arms. In the heat of summer, air conditioning drove her crazy, while it was his salvation. But he had learned to compromise, something that had been alien to his experience before he met her. Ceiling fans and fast runs through the sound to the open sea worked for both of them.
She lay close to him, stroking his hard arms and hard stomach and wrapping one leg over his, pressing against him, drawing his strength to her.
‘Are you all right?’ she asked. It was the first thing she had asked him since his return the night before.
‘Tired,’ he answered. ‘It’s been a rough two weeks.’
‘Was the trip successful?’
‘Yes.’
She did not ask why he had gone or what had happened on the trip; she was grateful that he had returned as quickly as he had.
As he lay there she noticed that the hair on his arm was singed and his fingernails were cracked and damaged. But she put her curiosity aside. She knew eventually he would tell her what he wanted her to know. The rest was part of the secretness she had come to accept.
‘I had some bad times on this trip,’ he said suddenly, surprising her.
‘Bad in what way?’
‘The Chinese have a saying, “Killing the past scars the soul.” I put a lot of scars on my soul this trip.’
‘Are you sure you want to talk about this?’
‘No, I think it would be better to forget it, but I want you to know there were chapters in my life that needed closing and now they’re closed. There’s nothing more to be gained by looking back or talking about them.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. We learn from the past.’
‘There’s nothing I want to learn from mine.’
Unconsciously she rubbed the stubble on his arm as he spoke.
‘I put a lot of ghosts to rest.’ He sighed.
‘Is that why you went?’
He hesitated for a moment before answering. ‘That was part of it. I also felt an obligation to an old friend.’
‘Did all this have to do with that man who came here?’
‘He was part of it. He was the catalyst. It’s much too complicated to explain. But I’m glad I went. I had to deal with some things I’ve been ignoring for a long time.’
‘What kind of things?’
