Anything Considered (16 page)

Bennett hadn’t thought about inventing a corporate history to go with his business cards, and for a moment he was caught with his cover down. He stalled by asking for a cheroot, and took his time lighting it. “Just between you and me, Lord Glebe, it’s a front.”

“Ah,” said Glebe, “thought as much. Acting for Brunei, or someone like that, I suppose.”

“Saudis, actually. But I’d prefer not to go into the details.”

“Quite. Well, money’s money, wherever it comes from.” He looked at his watch, then turned to the others. “I hope you’ll excuse me, gentlemen. We’re going to take a turn around the deck. Cocktails at seven, dinner at eight.” He bent down to the sleeping Pekingese. “Woof, woof, old boy. Woof, woof.” Genghis rose sleepily from his dish, and the two of them sauntered off, trailing clouds of cheroot smoke.

——

Tuzzi unlocked the double doors leading to his cabin and threw them open with a flourish. “And this,” he said, “is my poor little corner.” Anna took in the vast, canopied bed, the mirrored ceiling, the fireplace framed by two
giant elephant tusks, the curtains of heavy, dark-red silk, the gilt-encrusted furniture, and, on a desk below the main porthole, looking very much out of place in surroundings that would have suited an expensive bordello, the aluminum attaché case.

She stopped to look at a life-size nude statue clutching a breast in one hand and a lamp in the other. “What a charming room, Enzo.”

He sighed, a gusty, melancholy sigh. “But so lonely. I have a little
pisolino
in the afternoon, I come to bed at night. Always I sleep with my pillows, with my memories. Is tragic.” He looked at Anna as though he were going to burst into tears, and took her hand. “No, life is not a bowl of cherry.”

She patted his arm, and glanced at her watch with an exaggerated start of surprise. “My, Enzo, look at the time. I’d better go and change for dinner.”

“
Sì, sì
. I take you.” His fingers slid to the small of her back, and were continuing downward as she moved to go through the door. He left her outside her cabin with another protracted bout of hand-kissing, and she sat on the bed feeling as though she’d been stroked from one end of the boat to the other.

She heard a tap on the door. Jesus, she thought, he’s coming back for more. “Enzo, I’m going to take a shower.”

“Anna, it’s me. Bennett. Can you come out? We need to talk.”

They found an empty stretch of deck and leaned on the rail, watching the long, flat stripe of the wake stretching out behind the boat. Bennett spoke first, reporting
what he’d heard about the auction arrangements, delighted at the thought of getting back on dry land and leaving the rest to Poe. “So how about you? Did Tuzzi behave himself? I saw him pawing the ground.”

“That’s not all he pawed. I swear he’s got two pairs of hands. But I saw the case. It’s in his cabin.”

Bennett’s eyebrows shot up. “You were in his cabin? Anna, you didn’t … I mean …”

“Sure I did. It’s on his desk, next to his Venus de Milo paperweight.”

“And it can bloody well stay there. Listen, it’s simple. All we have to do is go through the motions tonight and lose at the auction tomorrow. And that’s it. No heroics. You resigned from the army, remember? And you certainly don’t need to play hide-and-seek with that overweight Lothario. Glebe told me about him. Lecherous bastard.”

“Most of it’s for show. He’s just one of those Italian guys who don’t wear underwear.”

“What?” Bennett was stunned. “How do you know?”

“It’s a type. Girls can tell.” She smiled at the look on his face, a mixture of shock and disapproval. “Bennett, you’re looking stern. It’ll give you wrinkles. Stop worrying. Come on—we’d better get changed. Don’t wait for me.”

——

The entire afterdeck of the
Ragazza
was dressed for dinner, with a necklace of tiny lights strung along the edges of the canvas canopy. A round table set with silver,
crystal, a centerpiece of fresh flowers, and tall glass hurricane lamps occupied the middle of the deck. To one side, a steward arranged ice buckets and champagne on a small bar. They had dropped anchor at an angle to the setting sun, and a path of red-gold light lapped against the hull of the boat. As Bennett came up to join the others, he found Tuzzi, draped in a pale-blue caftan, holding forth.

“… and so I tell him. My friend, I say, if you think you can do this to Tuzzi, you are putting your head in a moose.
Capisce?
”

Lord Glebe was offering a murmured interpretation to the bewildered audience when Tuzzi saw Bennett standing by the bar and walked over to join him. “Ah, Mr. Bennett. You have a drink?
Bene.
” He put an arm around Bennett’s shoulder and led him farther away from the others. “I ask a personal question, yes? Man to man.”

Bennett buried his nose in his champagne glass to escape the force of Tuzzi’s overwhelming eau de cologne. “Of course. What is it?”

“The
bellissima
Miss Hersh. Are you very close?”

“Well, you know. Good working relationship. She’s a first-class secretary, speaks a couple of languages, reliable girl.”

“No, no, I mean
close.
” Tuzzi hunched his shoulders and made a pumping gesture with his free hand, his eyebrows performing a semaphore of inquiry. The implication was clear.

“Ah,” said Bennett, “you mean bonking.”

“Sì, sì.”
Tuzzi nodded vigorously. “Bonking.”

Bennett smoothed his Old Etonian tie. “Good heavens,
no. Strict rules in Consolidated against that sort of thing. Bad for morale. Takes your mind off your portfolio, and we can’t have that.”

Tuzzi grinned, and nodded again. “
Bene, bene
. This makes me happy.” He patted Bennett on the shoulder. “You see, in Sicily, to like the woman of another man is
pericoloso
. Most dangerous. You are skating on thin eggs.”

“Yes, I’ve heard Sicily’s a tricky place.” Bennett took a sip of champagne and tried to suppress a feeling of outrage at the thought of this hairy libertine mauling Anna. Outrage and, he had to admit—the idea of mauling her himself crossing his mind—a stab of jealousy. Thank God they’d be off the boat tomorrow. He’d better warn Anna to lock her cabin door.

“Ah,” said Tuzzi, with a final pat on Bennett’s shoulder, “here is coming Miss Hersh now.
Ai, ai, ai.
” He shook his hand as though he’d singed his fingers. “What magnificence!”

Bennett looked at Anna in dismay. She was wearing a skirt that seemed several inches shorter than Bennett remembered it being when they’d bought it in Nice, and a small halter top that left her stomach bare. Tuzzi, in a transport of concupiscence as he went across to greet her, used the pretext of kissing her hand to conduct a close and thorough investigation of the bosom that was so generously displayed. This is going to lead to trouble, Bennett thought. He took a glass of champagne across to Anna, and waited until Tuzzi was out of earshot.

“You’re mad,” he whispered. “He’ll break the bloody door down to get at you.”

She smiled, as though she’d just received a compliment. “You like the outfit? It’s business, Bennett. Remember?”

Before Bennett could reply, Tuzzi called them to the table, placing Anna between himself and Lord Glebe. As they all sat down, a steward bearing Genghis on his plate knelt to place the dog carefully under his master’s chair. Glebe looked down, and tapped the steward on the shoulder. “Just a little of the foie gras, Piero,” he said, “and one of those bread sticks, broken up. And some flat water. That dreadful fizzy stuff gives him wind.”

Penato, the Californian, turned to Bennett, shaking his head. “Now I’ve seen everything. Are all Brits like this with their dogs?”

Bennett had been watching Anna, who was graciously allowing Tuzzi to arrange a napkin on her lap. “What? Sorry—yes, dogs. They’re usually much better treated than our wives.”

With Anna’s napkin arranged to his satisfaction, Tuzzi tapped the side of his wineglass with a fork and looked around the table. “My dear friends, no business tonight. Tonight is gala, in honor of our most beautiful guest. After dinner, we have a movie in my little screening room, and the
Ragazza
is now on anchor for the night, so we can eat and sleep comfortably.
Buon appetito!
”

Bennett attempted to engage his neighbors, Polluce and Kasuga, in conversation, but had very limited success. The two men were drinking more water than wine, and seemed content to maintain a watchful silence. After the
first course, Bennett gave up to concentrate on the
loup de mer
that had been placed in front of him, and to glance from time to time at Anna with increasing misgivings. She was flirting—flirting, in Bennett’s opinion, quite outrageously—with both Tuzzi and Lord Glebe, who were trying to outdo each other in their elaborate attentions.

“And now, my dear, a special treat.” Glebe bent over his fish while he performed some delicate surgery on its head with his knife and fork. “Ah, there we are.” He presented his fork to Anna. “Have a cheek. An excellent beast, the sea bass, and his cheeks are delicious.”

The men around the table fell silent and watched as Anna leaned over, pushing her shoulders up and forward to emphasize the already generous valley between her breasts. She opened her mouth, passed the tip of her tongue over her lips, and, with her wide eyes fixed on Lord Glebe, very slowly and deliberately sucked the tiny piece of white flesh from the fork. A performance, Bennett thought, that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. “Mmm,” Anna said, “that’s
so good.
”

The table let out a collective breath. Glebe beamed, and regained control of his trembling fork as Anna dabbed her lips with her napkin. Tuzzi, not to be outdone in the matter of fish cheeks, insisted on helping her excavate the head of her own fish. Bennett glared at her. She smiled back. From the other side of the table, Penato called across to Tuzzi.

“Hey, Enzo. Enough with the fish. What’s the movie tonight?”

“
Momento
.” Tuzzi completed the operation and patted Anna’s arm. “Tonight is coming Fellini.”

“Dear God,” said Lord Glebe. “Again?”

“My friend,” said Tuzzi, “Fellini was the maestro. You have sour gripes because he wasn’t English.”

Anna put down her knife and fork, and batted her eyelashes at Tuzzi. “I
adore
Fellini. I think he’s my favorite.”

Bennett was finding it difficult to watch Anna, but impossible not to. Tuzzi was mentally turning down the sheets every time he looked at her. The evening was going to end in tears, he was convinced of it, unless he could talk some sense into her during the movie.

But when dinner ended, and they moved with their brandy and cigars into the screening room, Tuzzi again insisted on supervising the seating arrangements, reserving two armchairs at the back for himself and Anna. The lights dimmed, the opening titles of
Amarcord
appeared on the screen, and Bennett sank into a deep sulk, which lasted throughout the film. Next to him, Lord Glebe fell asleep with Genghis at his feet, their snores providing a profundo accompaniment to the sound track.

As the lights came up, Bennett nudged his neighbor awake. “What? What? Oh, it’s finished. Thank the Lord for that. I can’t take him after dinner. Best on an empty stomach, Fellini.”

Bennett stood, stretched, and turned. It was as he had unwillingly forced himself to expect. The two chairs at the back were unoccupied.

“DEAR ME,” said Lord Glebe when he noticed the two empty seats. “We seem to have lost our host.” He looked around the screening room with an air of mild irritation. “Ah well. I suppose I’d better do the honors. If you gentlemen feel like a nightcap, help yourselves at the bar on the afterdeck. Or I’m sure young Piero will make you a cup of cocoa if you ask him nicely.” He stooped to pick up Genghis’s plate. “I’m off to the land of Nod. Busy day tomorrow.”

Bennett went below. Without any real hope of an answer, he stopped to knock at Anna’s door, listened to silence for a moment or two. He let himself in and sat scowling on her bed, feeling a sour, confused mixture of disappointment and jealousy. It wasn’t a night for sleep. Restless and angry, he returned to the deserted main deck.

The boat was completely silent now, at anchor, steady under his feet except for the gentle rise and fall of a lazy swell. The floodlit surface of the swimming pool barely moved, a slight tilt one way, a slight tilt the other. The air was soft and salty, warm and still; the stars were sharp.
Bennett swore under his breath and stared at the shore. He could see a small port in the distance, the shallow curve of the harbor defined by lights, a mass of hills, blacker than the blackness of the sky, rising behind the huddle of houses. A beautiful, miserable night.

A whisper of sound, no louder than a scuff against the deck, made him turn his head. Something was there, in one of the deep pools of shadow between the bulkhead lights. Probably Glebe’s dog, making his evening rounds. Curious, Bennett walked toward it, then froze in shock as a figure stepped into the light.

Anna was naked except for a brief triangle of white at her hips, the aluminum attaché case clutched to her chest. Her eyes bright with relief, she jerked her head toward the stern and led the startled Bennett in silence along the length of the boat until they reached the gangway that led down into the sea. Anna put her mouth to Bennett’s ear. “You go first. You’ll have to swim on your back and pull me. I’ll hold the case out of the water.”

“What happened? Are you OK?”

“Jesus, Bennett. Get going.”

He eased himself into the sea, blazer billowing and Old Etonian tie floating bravely in front of him, and took hold of Anna under her upraised arms. With the case held clear of the surface, they kicked away from the boat and began to swim backward to the shore.

After ten laborious minutes they rested, treading water. There was no sign of life on the
Ragazza
, no alarm bells, no hurrying figures on deck.

“What
happened
? Where’s Tuzzi?”

“He’s out of it, but I don’t know for how long. Come on. Let’s go.”

They continued trying to kick in unison, slow and awkward, Bennett’s sodden clothes weighing more and more heavily, Anna’s arms aching with the effort of holding up the case, their eyes constantly on the
Ragazza
. A long and exhausting hour passed.