Breaker

The boat tilted as Tony climbed aboard after securing his dinghy next to Harding's on the aft cleat. 'Open up!' he said, hammering on the companionway hatch. 'I know you're in there. Have you any idea what time it is, you stupid sod? I've been trying to get you on your mobile for the last three hours.'

Harding squinted at his watch. Three ten, he read. He sat bolt upright and banged his already aching head on the planked ceiling. 'Fucking Ada!' he muttered, crawling off his bunk and stumbling into the saloon to pull the bolt on the hatch. 'I was supposed to be in London by midday,' he told Tony.

'So your agent keeps telling me. He's been calling me nonstop since eleven thirty.' Tony pulled back the main hatch and dropped down into the saloon, sniffing the ripe atmosphere with an expression of distaste. 'Ever heard of fresh air?' he asked, pushing past his friend to open the forward hatch in the cabin and create a through draft. He looked at the rumpled sheets and wondered what the hell Steve had been doing. 'You're a bloody fool,' he said unsympathetically.

'Go away. I'm sick.' Harding groaned again as he slumped onto the port settee in the saloon and dropped his forehead into his hands.

'I'm not surprised. It's like an oven in here.' Tony handed him a bottle of mineral water from the galley. 'Get some of this into you before you die of dehydration.' He stood over him until he'd downed half the bottle, then lowered himself onto the facing settee. 'What's going on? I talked to Bob and he said you were supposed to be crashing at his place last night and catching the early train to town this morning.'

'I changed my mind.'

'So I gather.' Tony looked at the empty bottle of whisky on the table between them and the photographs scattered across its surface. 'What the hell's up with you?'

'Nothing.' He pushed the hair out of his eyes with a frown of irritation. 'How did you know I was here?'

Tony jerked his head toward the stern. 'I spotted your dinghy. Also I've tried everywhere else. Graham's after your blood, in case you're interested. He's pissed off that you missed the audition. It was in the bag, according to him.'

'He's lying.'

'Your big chance, he said.'

'Fuck that!' said Harding dismissively. 'It was a bit part in a kids' TV series. Three days' filming with spoiled brats to make something I wouldn't be seen dead in. Only idiots work with children.'

Malice stirred briefly in Tony's eyes before he cloaked his anger behind a harmless smile. 'Is that a dig at me?' he asked mildly.

Harding shrugged. 'No one forced you to be a teacher, mate. It was your choice.' He rocked his flattened palm. 'Your funeral when the little bastards finally do your head in.'

Tony held his gaze for a moment then picked up one of the photographs. 'So how come you don't have a problem with this kind of crap?' he said, jabbing his finger at the image. 'Doesn't this count as working with kids?'

No answer.

'You're being exploited by experts-mate-but you can't see it. You might as well sell your arse in Piccadilly Circus as let perverts drool over tacky porno pics of you in private.'

'Shut it,' growled Harding angrily, touching his fingertips to his eyelids to suppress the pain behind them. 'I've had enough of your bloody lectures.'

Tony ignored the note of warning. 'What do you expect if you keep behaving like an idiot?'

An unfriendly smile thinned the other man's lips. 'At least I'm up-front about what I do'-his smile broadened-'in every respect.' He stared Bridges down. 'Unlike you, eh? How's Bibi these days? Still falling asleep on the job?'

'Don't tempt me, Steve.'

'To do what?'

'Shop you.' He stared at the photograph in a confusion of disgust and jealousy. 'You're a fucking deviant. This kid's barely fifteen.'

'Nearly sixteen ... as you damn well know.' Harding watched him tear the photograph to shreds. 'Why are you getting so het-up about it?' he murmured dispassionately. 'It's only acting. You do it in a movie and they call it art. You do it for a mag and they call it pornography.'

'It's cheap filth.'

'Wrong. It's exciting cheap filth. Be honest. You'd swap places with me any day. Hell, the pay's three times what you get as a teacher.' He raised the bottle of mineral water to his mouth and tilted his head back, smiling cynically. 'I'll talk to Graham,' he said, wiping his wet lips with the back of his hand. 'You never know. A little guy like you might go down a wow on the Internet. Pedophiles like 'em small.'

'You're sick.'

'No,' said Harding, dropping his head into his hands, energy spent. 'Just broke. It's the inadequate bastards who jerk off over my pictures who're sick.'

*6*

Forensic Pathology Report

UF/DP/5136/Interim: Ref: GFS/Dr. J. C. Warner

·        General description: Natural blond-30 yrs. (approx.)-height 5'-weight: 102 Ibs.-blue eyes-blood group 0-excellent health-excellent teeth (2 fillings; RL wisdom removed)-no surgical scars-mother of at least one child-14 weeks pregnant (fetus male)-non-