It was the end of the day and he could genuinely have used a tequila,
double, with a big Mexican lime on the side. Instead, however, he had
something else on the agenda. After an early dinner with Bill Bates, he
had talked Calypso Andros into a stroll down to the harbor, there to
meditate on the events of the past two days. They had agreed in advance
not to talk about Isaac Mannheim's death; Cally declared he would have
wanted it that way. His life was his legacy.
"I wonder if this island will ever be the same again," she was saying
as she leaned back against a rock. "You know, it was peaceful once,
before SatCom took over--there actually were sheep, a whole herd--but
even then it had a kind of purposefulness that was just the opposite of
chaos. We're the ones who disrupted it. SatCom. We remade it in our
image, and we tempted fate." She sighed. "God, this whole disaster
almost seems like a bad dream now. I wonder if the island will ever
know real peace again. There'll always be the memory to haunt
everybody."
"You know, when Ulysses came back to his island, he discovered it had
been taken over by a bunch of thugs. So he took away their weapons,
locked the doors, and straightened things out. It set a good
precedent."
"Well, it didn't exactly happen that cleanly this time, but we did get
them all. Every last one. And about half of them, you took care of
yourself. One way or another."
"Please," he stopped her. "Let's don't keep score. It's too
depressing."
"I'm not depressed. At least not about them. They came in here and
murdered people right and left. They deserved whatever they got. Good
riddance. The human race is better off."
"That's pretty tough," Vance said. "On the other hand, whereas they
claimed to be terrorists, they really were just extortionists. At least
Ramirez and Peretz were. For them this was all about money. Kidnapping
and ransom. So maybe you're right. The penalty for kidnapping is death.
They were looking at the max, no matter what court ended up trying
them."
"I'd say ARM just spared Greece or somebody a lot of trouble and
expense. Performed a public service."
"I suppose that's one way to look at it." He smiled. "But somehow I
don't think Pierre's going to get so much as a thank-you note. It never
happens. Things always get confused like this at the end, but as long
as he and the boys come out whole, they don't care."
His voice trailed off as he studied the sea. Along the coast on either
side, the pale early moon glinted off the breakers that crashed in with
a relentless rhythm. Yes, a bomb had exploded somewhere up there in
space, but the Aegean, even the jagged rocks around the island, still
retained their timeless serenity. The Greek islands. He never wanted to
leave. Right now, though, he was trying to work up his nerve to talk
seriously with Dr. Cally Andros--and the words weren't coming. How to
start . . .?
"Are you still here?" She finally broke his reverie. "Or are you just
gazing off."
"Sorry about that." He clicked back. "I was thinking. Wondering if
you'd still be interested in . . . in what we talked about yesterday."
"What?" She looked puzzled, then, "Oh, you mean--"
"Taking a sail with an old, slightly beat-up yacht-charter operator."
"You're beat up, there's no denying it." She laughed. "I hope you keep
your boats in better shape." She looked him over and thought again how
much he reminded her of Alan. The mistake that affair represented was
not one to be repeated blindly. Then again . . . "But I don't consider
you old. Experienced, maybe, but still functioning."
"Is that supposed to mean yes?"
"It's more like a maybe." She touched his hand. "What were you thinking
about, exactly?"
"What else? The _Odyssey_ thing." He looked out at the horizon, then
back. "Seems to me it deserves another try.
_Oh, the pearl seas are yonder,
The amber-sanded shore;
_