“Looks like I overslept,” I said lightly. “I guess the coffee’s all gone.”
Andrea immediately left the sink and went to the stove.
“I’ll make you some,” she said without looking at me. “Go to your room and I’ll bring it to you.”
For some reason, I felt embarrassed by her eager solicitude.
“That’s real nice of you, but don’t …”
She gave me a glance which made me falter. I had no idea what it meant, but I felt its intensity like a blow.
“Well, if you’re sure it’s no problem …”
I hovered there for a moment, but she paid no further attention to me, busying herself with the percolator and a can of coffee.
“I’ll be in my room, then,” I concluded awkwardly, and sidled out.
Shortly afterward there was a knock at my door. Andrea stood there with a mug of coffee. She looked strained.
“I need to talk to you,” she said in a low voice.
“Come on in.”
She shook her head.
“Not here. Meet me by the water tank.”
With that, she turned and walked quickly, almost running, back to the kitchen. I closed the door and sipped my coffee thoughtfully. For a moment it crossed my mind that she might be acting under orders from Sam. But surely in that case she would have been more straightforward? What was all the secrecy about, and why was she so nervous?
I put on a jacket and went outside. The overnight rain had stopped, but the sky was overcast. A pair of sea gulls skimmed overhead, crying plaintively. There was no one about except for two women hanging out laundry on a line. As I walked up the trail toward the water tank, I tried to imagine what Andrea could possibly have to say to me. The only thing I could think of was that she’d heard that I was leaving and wanted me to take a message to someone, or to do some errand for her on the mainland. But in that case why hadn’t she just told me when she brought me my coffee? Unless of course Sam had tabooed me after I made it clear that I wasn’t buying into his little scam. “Don’t scare the horses,” he’d told me. Judging by the high-tech goodies I’d seen in his rooms, Sam had an awful lot at stake, and the last thing any con man wants is someone putting the marks on their guard.
The water tank stood all alone on a rocky elevation at the edge of the developed section of land, right above the well which yielded the island’s limited supply of water. There was no plumbing, and all water had to be carried by hand. It would have been a relatively simple matter to run a pipe downhill to a communal tap near the hall, but evidently such a luxury took second place to Sam’s need for the latest electronic toys.
It was another fifteen minutes before Andrea finally appeared, and when she did I was disappointed to see that there were two women with her. Since she’d made it clear that she didn’t want to be seen talking to me, I took cover behind the shed which housed the electricity generator. Each of the women had a plastic bucket which they proceeded to fill from the tank, but it soon became apparent that this was only a pretext for the long, intense conversation that took place. Judging by the women’s lowered voices and furtive manner, they too were anxious not to be seen talking, let alone overheard.
Eventually the discussion broke up and the women set off back together, carrying the heavy buckets of water. For a moment I thought that Andrea had forgotten about our appointment. But when they were about halfway back to the hall, she set down her bucket and said something to her companions, pointing back to the water tank. The others also stopped, but Andrea shooed them away and started back. The other two continued on their way and soon disappeared below the ridge. I stepped out of hiding with the sheepish grin of someone caught playing a childish game, and walked up to Andrea.
“Hi there, honey!” I said in a parody pick-up voice. “Want to take in a movie or something?”
A brief smile broke through the strain on her face. For a moment I caught a glimpse of another Andrea, a stranger yet the same, like a photograph from an earlier, half-forgotten period of one’s life. There are said to be several hundred muscles involved in creating the human smile, but when everything’s said and done, muscles are only pulleys, strings attached to flesh. How is it that such simple mechanics can create an effect which seems to give you the person entire, with all their complex chiaroscuro, their desires and potential, doubts and shortfalls?
“There’s the new Nick Nolte and Susan Sarandon at the Bijou,” I continued, encouraged by her reaction. “Then we could go grab a burger somewhere. What time do you have to be home?”
But her smile had already died.
“It’s not safe here,” she said, glancing around quickly. “Something’s going on, I don’t know what. Terri and Gloria say that Mark has gathered all the men together.”
“So what?”
Andrea shook her head impatiently.
“You know that rock-pool by the ocean, the one where …”
She broke off, looking confused.
“Where you go swimming in the summer,” I prompted.
For some reason she blushed.
“Yes. Go there. I’ll come as soon as I can get away.”
The key to everything which followed was right under my nose, if I’d been able to see it. But I could see nothing but the controlled panic in Andrea’s pale brown eyes.
“I don’t know if I can make it,” I said. “I’m leaving today, maybe this morning.”
“You can’t leave.”
I stared at her. Her eyes moved a fraction, fixing on a point just beyond my shoulder. I turned and saw Sam walking toward us. Andrea stepped past me without another word and picked up the bucket of water. As she passed Sam, he caught her arm and said something to her to which she replied quickly. Sam released her as I approached.
“Andrea and I were just having a little chat,” I told him. “She says there might be some problem about me leaving today. Is that true?”
Sam glanced at Andrea, who had continued on her way down to the hall. Then he looked around at me.
“I just went into your room, Phil, and there was a videocassette on the chair by the bed. Do you know anything about that?”
“Oh, that,” I replied casually. “Yeah, I found it in one of the drawers while I was putting my clothes away. I guess it must belong to Mark.”
I wondered if he’d noticed that the tape had not been rewound.
“Anyway, what’s all this about me not being able to leave?” I asked.
Sam’s eyes slowly defocused.
“We’re having a little trouble with the boat,” he said. “Can’t seem to get the engine to start.”
“Any idea how long it’s going to be out of action? I’m kind of anxious to get going.”
Sam nodded vaguely.
“It’s hard to say. Rick’s taking a look at it right now.”
Another thought seemed to strike him.
“You any good with guns, Phil?”
“Guns? What kind of guns?”
“Any kind. You ever fire one?”
“Hardly. I grew up in Europe, Sam. It’s not really what you’d call a gun culture.”
He nodded in the same dreamy way, as though his real thoughts were elsewhere.
“Do you have guns here on the island?” I asked.
Sam gazed at me without speaking for some time. It seemed to cost him an effort to focus. I wondered if he was maybe slightly stoned.
“Sure,” he said at last.
“You do? Why?”
He smiled lazily.
“Because this isn’t Europe, Phil. This is real life, and in real life a man has to be able to defend himself and
