Bay of Souls

17

THERE WAS SOME unpleasantness over the lost case but eventually they headed back to the landing of the Purcell house.

"It goes down to eight miles, Roger. It's gone."

When they were halfway back Michael asked him what was in the cases.

"Objets d'art. Artifacts for sale. In fact," Roger said, "they were already purchased, which is why I'm upset."

"I really am sorry, Roger. It's a miracle I was able to get the two of them."

"Our customers are not pious. They may not be grateful."

Michael wondered briefly how their ingratitude affected him, but he did not ask any more questions. Nor did he ask any questions about Lara. He had followed her to the ranks of death; that was where his encounter with the late pilot had placed him. On that ocean, he thought, in that darkness he had no friends.

Finally Hippolyte took Michael back to the dive shop. Roger had debarked at the Purcell house landing. Hippolyte, young and inexperienced at docking, made something of a commotion at the dive pier. The two small children he had left in the shop were still there, asleep. Hippolyte stayed long enough to help Michael out of his wetsuit and check the compressors. Then he took his toddlers by the hand and disappeared into the night.

Michael walked the distance to the hotel in a kind of despair. More than anything he wanted to be with Lara. At the same time he felt that he had lost her. She had betrayed him into a different world than the one they were meant to share.

Coming up the back stairs he ran into Liz McKie, the journalist.

"Where were you, Michael? Were you out on the reef?"

"Are you kidding?"

"I heard a boat." She put a presuming hand beside his ear. "You look wet."

He moved his head away. "I… was in the water. Just on an impulse."

"You don't say."

"I've been hearing drums all night," Michael said.

"We've had a lot of drums for sure. It's the retirer for John-Paul Purcell. They're marking that at the lodge. Didn't Lara tell you that?"

"She did say something about it."

"Did she tell you about the lodge?"

"I don't know anything about the lodge. I've never been there."

She stared at him, eager and confused. Her eyes were wide with excitement and fear. "Hey, Michael, tell me. What's going on, buddy?"

"I don't know. Really."

He wanted very much to ask her whether she was afraid of the story she was trying to write and the people she was trying to write about. He let it go.

She smiled as though she were sorry for him and went away. There were soldiers milling around the patio of the hotel when he got there. No one was in attendance at the desk. A couple of the soldiers were passing a bottle of four-star rum, making a halfhearted effort to sneak it.

Having no one to provide him a destination, he went into his room without turning on the light and lay down on the bed. The rhythm of the drums had changed but there still seemed to be four, pursuing one another's beat, never stopping. The ocean he could see through the window gave no promise of morning.