Read Online Gibraltar Road by Philip McCutchan - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Philip McCutchan
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else in it now, though—tenderness, perhaps, and yet at the same time a hint of cruelty. “Older, Pablo? Is that it?”
“Perhaps.”
“Anno domini, hijo . It is many years since I met Commander Esmonde Shaw.” There was a tinge of regret in her voice now; regret for the years that had gone beyond recall, for the excitements of those early days . . . and yet there was a note of eagerness as she went on, “But we shall meet again very soon. He will come to me. I shall see to that, for I wish to see him once more as soon as it is safe for me to do so, and you shall help.” She raised her arm, sniffed the perfume which was called Je reviens . “Away with you now, Pablo,” she added abruptly. A small handful of peseta notes fluttered over the screen. “You know your orders meanwhile, and I shall have fresh ones for you later.”
“Si, señorita.”
“A moment, Pablo . . . has Madame, the keeper of this house, questioned you about why you come here?”
“No, señorita.” A frown appeared between the boy’s eyes, and his voice held a note of query when he added, “She has seemed curious, that is all.”
“Remember, she is to know nothing.”
“Si.” For a moment the boy hesitated, licking his lips. The voice came sharply then, commandingly: “Pablo, go now.”
When the boy had slipped away Karina came out from behind the screen and walked slowly over to a long wall glass where she studied her body intently. She was quite naked.
Esmonde Shaw when younger had been susceptible, and more than susceptible. He had appreciated the slim lines of that body which, as Karina now saw, was just as seductive as ever. Critically she looked at the long flanks, the beautiful flat stomach, and the full, rounded breasts which were as firm as a bride’s; she caressed the soft gold of her skin, the narrow strips of whiteness where her sun-suit had covered her. The cloud of hair set off the pale face; the lips were still full and red, the mouth was wide, eyes clear, and the flesh tight, teeth showing small and good when the lips parted slightly.
The years had been kind enough.
Karina turned slowly, lifted her arms, saw the sharp angle of the breasts. She took a backward glance as she twisted away farther, and was satisfied. Pivoting slowly back, her mind went on to the job ahead. There was a reckoning to come with Esmonde Shaw, and for a moment the glass showed spots of red in the cheeks, sharp lines between the eyes, and a mouth turned downward into a thin line which gave away the latent cruelty below the veneer. Something told her that this encounter to come, an encounter after so long, was going to be a fight to the finish. It wasn’t going to be her finish.
A few miles away, in Gibraltar, Shaw came down the stairs from his bedroom in the Bristol Hotel holding a newly arrived cable in his hand. That cable read:
Flying Gibraltar on business to-morrow will be at Rock Hotel love Debbie.
Shaw didn’t know what to make of that. He knew Debon-nair well enough to guess that she’d wangled it, wangled that business trip from her firm, and he wasn’t quite pleased at having a girl around when he was on a job. Maybe he’d cable her to use some sense and keep away . . . maybe. He knew she wouldn’t take any notice if he did. Probably couldn’t, now she’d fixed it with her office.
Shaw went into the bar, frowning.
He looked casually over the customers having a late lunchtime session. As he drank a long gin-and-lime, with ice floating in it to turn the tumbler to frosted crystal, he asked the barman off-handedly if a Mr Ackroyd was in the crowd.
The man was fat, cheery, with a brisk voice. He said, “No, sir.” He polished a glass carefully. “May be along yet. He does come in quite often, though come to think of it I haven’t seen him for a couple of days.”
“Uh-huh.” Shaw flicked his lighter, slid a white cuff up his lean brown arm and looked at his watch. “I won’t wait.”
“If he comes in shall
“Perhaps.”
“Anno domini, hijo . It is many years since I met Commander Esmonde Shaw.” There was a tinge of regret in her voice now; regret for the years that had gone beyond recall, for the excitements of those early days . . . and yet there was a note of eagerness as she went on, “But we shall meet again very soon. He will come to me. I shall see to that, for I wish to see him once more as soon as it is safe for me to do so, and you shall help.” She raised her arm, sniffed the perfume which was called Je reviens . “Away with you now, Pablo,” she added abruptly. A small handful of peseta notes fluttered over the screen. “You know your orders meanwhile, and I shall have fresh ones for you later.”
“Si, señorita.”
“A moment, Pablo . . . has Madame, the keeper of this house, questioned you about why you come here?”
“No, señorita.” A frown appeared between the boy’s eyes, and his voice held a note of query when he added, “She has seemed curious, that is all.”
“Remember, she is to know nothing.”
“Si.” For a moment the boy hesitated, licking his lips. The voice came sharply then, commandingly: “Pablo, go now.”
When the boy had slipped away Karina came out from behind the screen and walked slowly over to a long wall glass where she studied her body intently. She was quite naked.
Esmonde Shaw when younger had been susceptible, and more than susceptible. He had appreciated the slim lines of that body which, as Karina now saw, was just as seductive as ever. Critically she looked at the long flanks, the beautiful flat stomach, and the full, rounded breasts which were as firm as a bride’s; she caressed the soft gold of her skin, the narrow strips of whiteness where her sun-suit had covered her. The cloud of hair set off the pale face; the lips were still full and red, the mouth was wide, eyes clear, and the flesh tight, teeth showing small and good when the lips parted slightly.
The years had been kind enough.
Karina turned slowly, lifted her arms, saw the sharp angle of the breasts. She took a backward glance as she twisted away farther, and was satisfied. Pivoting slowly back, her mind went on to the job ahead. There was a reckoning to come with Esmonde Shaw, and for a moment the glass showed spots of red in the cheeks, sharp lines between the eyes, and a mouth turned downward into a thin line which gave away the latent cruelty below the veneer. Something told her that this encounter to come, an encounter after so long, was going to be a fight to the finish. It wasn’t going to be her finish.
A few miles away, in Gibraltar, Shaw came down the stairs from his bedroom in the Bristol Hotel holding a newly arrived cable in his hand. That cable read:
Flying Gibraltar on business to-morrow will be at Rock Hotel love Debbie.
Shaw didn’t know what to make of that. He knew Debon-nair well enough to guess that she’d wangled it, wangled that business trip from her firm, and he wasn’t quite pleased at having a girl around when he was on a job. Maybe he’d cable her to use some sense and keep away . . . maybe. He knew she wouldn’t take any notice if he did. Probably couldn’t, now she’d fixed it with her office.
Shaw went into the bar, frowning.
He looked casually over the customers having a late lunchtime session. As he drank a long gin-and-lime, with ice floating in it to turn the tumbler to frosted crystal, he asked the barman off-handedly if a Mr Ackroyd was in the crowd.
The man was fat, cheery, with a brisk voice. He said, “No, sir.” He polished a glass carefully. “May be along yet. He does come in quite often, though come to think of it I haven’t seen him for a couple of days.”
“Uh-huh.” Shaw flicked his lighter, slid a white cuff up his lean brown arm and looked at his watch. “I won’t wait.”
“If he comes in shall
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