He unlocked a trapdoor in the deck, pulled out the yards of folded sail, and began to lay it out.
“This works much as a sailboat would; the propulsion is afforded by the wind. But because we skate on the surface, which is slick and offers no resistance, it’s much faster than a water boat and requires less wind.”
“Why are you rigging it?” I asked. “You’re not planning to take it out now?”
“Sit down,” Tor told me, shoving me into a seat. “Use that strap and buckle.”
I attached the harness as he whipped the sail around with expert-looking movements. The beautiful black ice seemed suddenly menacing. I could picture with amazing immediacy what it would feel like to be cast out, sliding across the surface out of control, as the sharp, jagged teeth of ice shredded me to ribbons—or to fall through a thin place and get trapped beneath the sinister surface in subarctic waters.
“You’ll enjoy this tremendously,” Tor assured me, smiling as he yanked down a rope and looped it around a cleat.
The sail whipped out sharply against the wind—my head snapped back, and the boat shot forward onto the lake. We picked up speed so swiftly and silently that it took me several seconds to realize how fast we were moving.
When I turned to face into the wind, it cut at my eyelids. Needles of snow from the surface were hurled against my face, burning my skin. I kept my eyes shut as I felt the cold slash against me. When I tried to speak, ice dragged through my lungs like grappling hooks.
“How do you turn this thing?” I yelled against the whine of wind.
“I shift my weight or the sails,” Tor said as the clatter of ice against the hull increased. “Or I can move the rudders slightly with this lever.” He sounded so calm and tranquil, I tried to feel assured.
We were flying over the ice so quickly now, I feared we’d soon be airborne. The lump of fear in my stomach was starting to burn like cold, icy metal as it turned to terror. My eyes were streaming with water from the needles of sleet; I wondered how Tor could see without using goggles.
When I let go of the seat to wipe my eyes, we were shifting our course ever so slightly. My heart leaped into my mouth as I saw we were now rushing headlong toward the far shore. As the line of frozen grasses and rocks and trees whizzed toward us at breakneck speed, it felt as though we’d jumped into high gear.
The land was rushing up so fast, I couldn’t believe Tor saw what was happening—I felt like screaming aloud. Pieces of ice were clattering against the hull like machine-gun fire, and a blanket of snow obscured my sight as we went faster and faster. Now I caught glimpses of trees and rocks that seemed to jump toward us across the ice—and I recognized, with sudden hysteria, that it was too late to turn!
I could feel my choked, burning throat, the blood throbbing—no, thudding—deep in my eye sockets. I gripped the side of the boat as if I were riveted in place, forcing myself to watch as we hurtled wildly—utterly out of control—into the deadly black line of shore. The bottom of my stomach wrenched sickeningly just as the impact came.
But we were cast sideways as Tor shifted his weight, and the boat moved into a clean, tight, sweeping curve, elegantly tracing the edge of shoreline. Time seemed to stop, and in that instant I could hear the heavy beating of my heart.
As we pulled out of the curve the adrenaline flooded through me in a hot gush, pumping blood back to my heart and lungs.
“Did you like that?” Tor inquired cheerfully, not seeming to notice I was at all ruffled.
My legs and spine were spaghetti. I’d never before felt fear like that. I was furious—and I wondered if it would be possible to murder him, and still get back to land in one piece.
“Now that we’ve warmed up, let’s try something really exciting—shall we?” he suggested.
I felt certain my heart wouldn’t take much more excitement. But I was so dazed and shaken, I couldn’t speak. Furthermore, I suspected that any sign of weakness on my part would only prolong the agony. Tor loved to test my nerves.
Without waiting for my response, he hooked the sail into the wind again, and began picking up speed. Soon, we were moving so fast that the shore beside us was only a blur in the corner of my eye. But as long as we hugged the land, it seemed cozy and safe. When he suddenly whipped out onto the lake, the vast black expanse seemed to unfold before me, like the dark, wide, open jaws of death.
“These boats can do well over a hundred knots,” he said casually, pitching his voice beneath the monotonous whine of wind.
“How much is a knot?” I forced myself to ask—not really wanting to know. I felt if only I could keep him talking, he might forget his idea to “try something really exciting.”
“A nautical mile,” he said, “well over a hundred land miles per hour. We’ve picked up to seventy already.”
“How thrilling,” I said, but my voice betrayed my feelings.
Tor glanced at me sideways. “You’re not frightened?” he asked.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I replied as the hot blood came up behind my eyes. I was sure I was going to faint.
“Great! Then we’ll open her up—and really fly!” he said with glee.
My God, I’m going to die, I thought.
The sails seemed stretched to the breaking point—the snow crossing the bow was so thick it formed a tunnel of insulation that blocked all view. We were inside a pillowcase of silent snow as I strained my eyes and ears to make things out. The silence and blindness were more terrifying than what they obscured.
Suddenly, the snow vanished—and my heart stopped.
We were nearly on top of the dock! Ships loomed before us, surrounding us like horrible leering monsters! As we hurtled into them Tor dropped the iceboat on its side. If I hadn’t been lashed in, I’d have fallen out on my head. The turn was so tight I was sure the blades would slide from beneath us, and we’d crash into the dock. For one awful instant, my head nearly touched the ice as gravity pulled us down and down. Then we sheered sharply the opposite way, and headed around in a smooth, sure circle toward the dock.
I was literally gasping—gulping down air—so I wouldn’t black out. Tor was slaloming gracefully back and forth, in smoothly widening arcs. At the instant we reached shore, he dropped the sail, slid the boat into the slip in an unexpected diagonal slash, and leaped from the deck to tie her up.
I was frozen—immobile with fear—so shaken, I could barely stand. When he reached for my hand, I wasn’t sure I could move at all. But when I stumbled to my feet and Tor helped me onto the dock, I was amazed suddenly by a rush of warmth—a powerful, glowing energy far beyond excitement or hysteria. It took me a moment to understand what it was. It was euphoria.
“I loved that,” I said aloud, surprising myself.
“Yes, I rather thought you would,” he said. “Can you tell me why?”
“I think it was the fear,” I blurted out, wondering why that should be.
“Precisely—the fear of death is the affirmation of life,” he explained. “Men know that. But women—almost never. I saw it in you that first night—standing there in the hallway like a lost child. You were so afraid, you actually jumped when I spoke. You were afraid of what was about to happen in your job as well—but your fears didn’t stop you. I held out my hand, and you took it. You went up against them all, and all alone.”
He smiled, and lifted me off the dock. He held me a moment too long, the warmth of his body penetrating my heavy coat, his face in my hair. I felt suddenly frightened—panicky—though I couldn’t say why.
“That’s why I chose you,” he told me at last.
“Chose me?” I asked, pulling away to look at him. “What on earth do you mean?”
“You know perfectly well what I mean,” he replied.
He looked a bit shaken himself. The dim moonlight turned his pale skin and hair to silver. He put his hands on my shoulders and bent toward me. I’d never seen this expression before.
“Perhaps I’m too jaded,” he told me. “I’ve always been
bored with the people around me. Life holds no challenges for a mind like mine any longer. I’ve missed you, my dear. I’m happy you’re back at last.”
“I’m not back,” I said, feeling the pounding in my chest. Surely the throbbing in my brain was caused by the rush of the iceboat. “Besides, I thought I was the one with jaded emotions—or so you’ve always said.”
“Your emotions aren’t jaded—they’re repressed,” he told me coldly. “How can something be worn-out, when it’s never been used?”
He turned on his heel and headed for the car. I stumbled after him in my ridiculously inadequate evening shoes. It was astonishing they’d stayed on my feet through the maelstrom.
“My emotions have been used,” I called after him.
I saw he was opening the door, and I raced ahead through the drifts.
“I have an emotion myself, that’s about to be used,” he told me, shoving me into the car. “It’s the emotion of anger—and you evoke this emotion in me so frequently, I wonder that I haven’t taken a bullwhip to you yet!” He slammed the door.
He got in on his side, yanking his gloves on. I was silent as he started the engine and waited for the car to warm. I could see my breath fogging the windows. I didn’t know what to say.
“I think it’s a good investment,” I told him at last.
“You think what’s a good investment—for me to lose my temper? Or are you suggesting I purchase a bullwhip?”
“No, the iceboat,” I said. “I think it’s a good—why are you laughing like that? Isn’t that what you brought me out here for?”
He was wiping the tears from his eyes.
“Fine—the iceboat is an excellent investment. The banker of the year has given her seal of approval. I’m glad you like it, my dear—feel free to use it whenever you wish.”
“Don’t be silly,” I told him, lighting a cigarette to distance myself from the way I felt. “I can’t use an iceboat—I live in San Francisco. And that’s where I plan to stay.”
“You live in your fantasies,” he snapped, in a tone of voice I’d never heard him use.
He threw the car into gear savagely, and pulled out onto the road, kicking up snow clouds.
I watched his grim profile, outlined in the dim green lights from the dashboard. It was a while before I could bring myself to speak.
“I don’t understand you,” I told him at last. “I never have. You say you want to help me—but you seem to want to own me. You keep making me over, into some image in your mind, but I don’t know why. I never know why.”
“Neither do I,” he admitted quietly. Then he whispered, as if to himself, “Neither do I.”
We went on in silence for quite some time. At long length, I saw him smile.
“I suppose I think of you just as you think of that iceboat,” he admitted. He looked over at me in the gloom and smiled.
“Perhaps you’re a good investment,” he said.
NEGOTIATIONS
A very good device, I found, was first to haggle with the farmer over the price, and beat him down to the lowest penny. For, strange as this might sound, this inclines the farmer to trust you.
I had learned good and early that if you haven’t got honey in the crock, you must have it in the mouth.
—Bouck White,
THE BOOK OF DANIEL DREW
When my plane circled San Francisco, the air was still glittering with sunshine, the bay was still blue, the little houses on the hillsides were still pastel-colored, and the eucalyptus trees still fluttered in the balmy breezes. The torrential rains in the past weeks had washed everything cleaner than before.
Pearl and Tavish were waiting outside in the green bomber, wearing matching T-shirts that said “Quality Inspected.” But I hadn’t thought of the problem of fitting three people and luggage into a car designed to be entered with a can opener.
“We’ll let Bobby figure this one out,” Pearl said, jumping out to hug me. “Men are better at these menial chores.”
“In Scotland,” Tavish muttered, picking up my bags, “the women do the hod carrying while we blokes retire to the nearest pub—to deliberate upon the role of labor in society.”
But it proved to be a team effort, with the bags tucked into every available space and Tavish installed precariously over the stick shift between us.
“There’s something I have to tell you both,” I admitted as Pearl shot onto the freeway, setting a new sound barrier record for surface traffic. “I didn’t set up the quality circle just to test security and prove Kiwi and everyone wrong. I actually plan to rob the bank.”
“So you said.” Pearl smiled wryly. “But nobody believes you’re going to toss your career down the toilet, sweetie, just to prove a point. Why not write a book about it instead?”
“Things have gotten a bit more complex than before,” I told her. “I’m not just proving a point—I’ve made a bet that I can do it.”
“Curioser and curioser,” Tavish said in a muffled voice, sandwiched between us. “You’ve wagered you can rob the bank with impunity, and I wager we’ll all wind up in jail, without—as you Americans say—passing Go! You must be off yer bloomin’ bean, madame.”
“Oh shit,” said Pearl, casting an uneasy glance in her side mirror. “We’re about to get some company.”
She pulled off the freeway, threw open her door, and jumped out, pulling down her T-shirt and adjusting her “quality inspected” merchandise.
I craned over my shoulder and Tavish’s knees to get a better look at the big, handsome—and very young—patrolman who was ambling our way, ticket book in hand.
“I’ve been behind you since the airport, ma’am,” he told Pearl as he came up. He peered in at Tavish and me—twin anchovies. “You’ve got too many passengers in here for safety—I’m going to have to cite you for that. Weaving in traffic, speeding, reckless driving—you were running on the shoulder of the freeway for a while—no seat belts installed in vehicle …” He flipped his book open, shaking his head.
“My … what an attractive uniform, officer!” said Pearl, rubbing the fabric of his jacket between her fingers. “Are these a new design?”
The officer dropped his book, and she picked it up quickly and handed it to him with a smile. I thought he blushed, but I couldn’t be sure. I’d never seen a cop who was any match for Pearl.
“Yes, ma’am,” he was saying. “Now, if I could just see your license and registration …”
“They fit so nicely. Do you have yours tailored?” We’d be lucky if she didn’t get arrested for soliciting. “Officer, I really must apologize—but to tell the truth, I was having trouble with my car. It’s so hard for me to control all that power. Sometimes, things with so much power just seem to get out of hand, if you see what I mean.”
“This is a high-performance vehicle,” he agreed. “I know it’s a Lotus, but I’ve never seen one like it before.”
“You must know a lot about cars,” Pearl said with admiration. “I belong to the Lotus Club—this is a limited edition—there are only fifty cars like this one in the world. Not many people would have recognized that.”
“I worked as a mechanic in the army,” he admitted modestly.
“Oh, you were in the armed forces,” said Pearl. “You look too young to have had all that active duty! But maybe you can tell me what to ask for when I get my next servicing—so the car won’t get away from me like that again?”
“Would you like me to take a look under your hood?” he inquired politely, slipping his ticket book away.
Tavish and I glanced at each other and smiled.
“I can’t tell you how much I’d appreciate that,” Pearl said, and led him up to listen to her engine run.
We had lunch amid the feathery palms and under the vaulted glass roof of the Palace’s Palm Court—eggs Benedict and Ramos fizzes and lots of dark, rich coffee. When the waiters had stopped replenishing our water glasses, we were alone.
“It seems you’ve chosen the right friend to h
elp you with your crime,” commented Tavish. “We’ve just seen Mademoiselle Lorraine violate with impunity half of the state highway regulations—and try to bribe a police officer. With her body!”
“He was a highway patrolman,” Pearl corrected him. “California has the cutest highway patrolmen of any state in the country, and believe me, I’m a seasoned judge. I love it when they pull me over like that.”
The restaurant was nearly empty, the sea of peach-and-gold carpeting, marble pillars, and crisp white tablecloths restored to impeccable elegance after the luncheon crush. The time had come.
“I want to talk turkey with both of you,” I told them. “As of last week, I had a very important job lined up with the Federal Reserve Bank: director of security. I’ve been working all my life toward remedying the deplorable way banks are run—at least, in my own small way. But I’m at a dead end; I can’t get any higher where I am, and I know it. There are no women executive vice-presidents at the bank, no women on the board. It’s unlikely I’ll live long enough to realize any of my goals. But I could have, at the Fed.”
“What happened?” asked Tavish.
“What do you think? Kiwi sabotaged the job for me—and guess why?”
“You’d be breathing down his neck to get him to do all the things he’s refused to do so far,” said Tavish. “Like spend fifty cents on control of any sort.”
“So it’s a vendetta,” said Pearl with a smile. “You want us to help you rob his systems, to prove he’s an ignorant boob.”
“I think it began that way,” I admitted. “But I’ve learned a few things since then. Kiwi’s the tip of the iceberg—there are plenty more like him. I want to nail them all, but I need your help.”
“Let me get this straight,” said Tavish, sipping his café. “We’re going to expose every nefarious banker on earth—force the world banking community to behave like gentlemen all with one blow—just by proving we can break into one little system here at the Bank of the World?”
He was cynical—but I did notice he’d said “we.” I smiled.