Devil's Island (16 page)

“So what is this important matter you've been waiting to tell me?”
It must be good news,
he thought. She had never looked happier.

“Abraham!” The reedy voice was followed a moment later by a view of Quintus's head. He cleared his throat as he crested the top of the hill. “Abraham, I'm sorry to interrupt you . . .” The gangly teenager reddened and looked embarrassed.

Abraham sighed. “What is it, Quintus?”

Elizabeth shifted her position and looked away, her mouth set in a tight line.

“There's a man at the office who wants to see you—”

“Can't Decimus handle it?” Abraham's voice betrayed his impatience. He'd left explicit instructions with his foreman, who by now should have been capable of handling anything that came up this afternoon. It was the first time in months Abraham had managed to steal a few daylight hours with his wife.

“Decimus assured the man we could handle his business, but he insists on talking to the owner personally.” Quintus paused. “Decimus said to tell you the man is a wealthy merchant from Troas. Says he has a thousand barrels of wine sitting in his warehouse, and he just found out the shipper he's been using has cheated him for years. He needs to start moving the wine right away, he said, and with that much inventory, well . . .”

A thousand barrels of wine.
A regular customer with that kind of volume could be the linchpin for a shipping company, especially a new and expanding one. Abraham looked at Elizabeth guiltily. For days he'd been promising to take a few hours off to have a picnic with her. And she had wanted to tell him something important. He didn't want to disappoint his wife, but he couldn't afford to pass up an opportunity to land an account that could make or break his new business.

“Elizabeth,” he said, “I'd better see about this.”

She stood and brushed off the skirt of her tunic. “We haven't even eaten our lunch yet,” she said, her lip twitching.

Abraham rose and tried to put his arm around her, but she wouldn't let him. “Honey, I'm sorry,” he said.

Without saying a word, Elizabeth bent down, opened the lid of the basket, then reached for the blanket.

“No, leave it.” Abraham grasped her hand to stop her from folding the blanket and putting it away. “Wait for me here. I'll see the man for just a few minutes, as a courtesy, and then tell him we'll have to finish our business later. I can be back in less than an hour. And then we can have our picnic—and talk.”

Elizabeth appeared slightly mollified and offered her cheek for a brief kiss before he left with Quintus.

When they had walked down the hillside a ways, Quintus said, “I hope Elizabeth will forgive me for dragging you away. She looked angry.”

“She'll forgive you,” Abraham said quickly. “I'm the one she's upset with right now, but I'll make it up to her. I wouldn't have let you interrupt me if it hadn't been something important.” Already he was mentally calculating cargo space for a thousand barrels of wine, and speculating on the destination ports.

“When Decimus asked if I knew where you were, I couldn't lie. I said I knew, but that I had promised not to tell anyone. He kept badgering me until I finally said I'd deliver a message to you. I think he was mad that I wouldn't tell him.”

“Decimus is probably just mad because you don't answer to him anymore; you work for me now.” When Abraham had taken over the shipping business, he'd discovered that Quintus, who had worked for the previous owner, had a good head for numbers. Quintus was not only bright, he was industrious and loyal. So Abraham had moved him off the docks and into the office, where he had no official title or job duties. He simply did whatever Abraham asked him to, and Quintus had quickly proven himself invaluable.

It took about ten minutes to wind their way down the hill into the city, but when they reached Harbor Street, the two of them quickly picked up the pace. Abraham was eager to find out how he could help the wine merchant, and eager to conclude his meeting with the man so he could get back to Elizabeth. He was excited as they walked down the broad avenue, ignoring the vendors who vied for business along the colonnade. Except for the time it took him away from his bride, Abraham didn't mind the long hours he was putting into the business. He loved the challenge, and he loved the noise and the bustle and even the smells of the harbor.

Seagulls scavenging for crumbs scattered when the two men walked up the four steps from the street to the wooden pier. With the long stride of tall men, they walked the length of the pier—
Someday I'll move to larger quarters in the very center of the harbor,
Abraham thought smugly—and entered the cramped office of his shipping company.

The wine merchant was not there.

Quintus went in search of Decimus, who returned to report sheepishly that he didn't know where the man had gone. “I got called out on the dock just after Quintus left. I excused myself, said I'd be right back, and I left him here in the office. Couldn't have been gone more than a couple of minutes, but when I got back, the merchant was nowhere to be found.”

Abraham was both disappointed and aggravated. “He just left without saying anything? I thought he had insisted on seeing me.”

“Oh, he did,” Decimus said. “He was adamant about it. I wouldn't have sent Quintus to get you otherwise.”

“Did he leave his name or say how I could get in contact with him?” In his mind Abraham saw all those barrels of wine sitting in a warehouse in Troas, just waiting to be loaded on his ships— the account was his!

Flustered, Decimus scratched his head. “Surely he told me his name. Let me think . . .” He paused and then shrugged. “Sorry,” he finally said, “I can't remember now if he even said who he was. He wanted to see our operation, and I showed him around. Asked question after question about the business and its owner. Then I heard about all that wine sitting in his warehouse waiting to be shipped, and everything else left my head.

“I know he said Troas,” Decimus added. “That I remember, because I have an uncle in Troas—”

“It's all right, Decimus.” Abraham couldn't be too angry with his foreman; he had done the same thing. He had thought of what his net profit would be for shipping a thousand barrels of wine, and nothing else had seemed important after that.

“I'd better check on the loading crew,” Decimus mumbled as he turned and left.

Quintus seemed as let down and as puzzled as Abraham. “But why would he leave if he really wanted to talk to you? It's not only rude, it just doesn't make sense.”

“I guess the lesson to be learned is that if something sounds too good to be true, it probably is.” Abraham chided himself for neglecting the most important person in his life—Elizabeth—to chase down something that had seemed urgent but turned out to be a waste of time.
If I'm lucky,
he thought,
she won't be too mad at me.
Maybe we can recapture our earlier mood.

They walked out on the pier, and Abraham was saying good-bye to Quintus when Rufus sprinted up to them. His wiry red hair flapped wildly over his forehead, and he was out of breath.

“Where's Elizabeth?” he asked. “She's not home. I went there first.”

“What's wrong? Are you okay?” His father-in-law looked quite disturbed, Abraham thought.

“Where is she?”

“She's up in the hills, waiting for me. We were having a picnic.”

“Is she all right?”

“Yes, she's fine.” Abraham motioned for Rufus to enter the office. “Come in and tell me what has you so upset.”

“Maybe I'm just being paranoid,” Rufus said when he had taken a seat. “But something unusual happened while I was in a meeting with a client this morning.”

Abraham smiled. Rufus did tend to exaggerate the dimensions of a problem. Whatever it was, Rufus had probably blown it out of proportion.

“A man came into the bank today,” Rufus said, “and told my assistant, Junius, that he wanted to open an account—mentioned a large sum of money—but he wanted me to handle it personally. He was an acquaintance of mine from Rome, the man said. Junius entertained him while they waited for me to conclude my meeting.”

“That's not too unusual,” Abraham said. “I imagine personal referrals are a large part of your business.” He was impatient to get back to his beautiful young wife, who was waiting to serve him a meal outdoors and tell him something important. “What does this have to do with Elizabeth?”

“He engaged in small talk with Junius while they waited, and he asked a lot of questions about me and my family. He seemed to know a lot about us, Junius said. Specifically, he remembered I had a young daughter, and that she was very beautiful. He even remembered her name, and he asked if Elizabeth was married yet. Junius said yes and told him about you.”

Rufus stopped to catch his breath, and suddenly Abraham began to wonder if Rufus's paranoia was catching. He had a queasy feeling in his empty stomach.

“Shortly after that, the man left, saying he would come back tomorrow. Afterward, Junius got to thinking it was curious that he had asked so many personal questions rather than questions about the bank.”

Taken by itself, the inquisitive customer at the bank wouldn't have amounted to much, but with the mysterious stranger disappearing at the shipping office, it seemed more than a coincidence. Abraham stood up and started pacing the floor. “He asked specifically about Elizabeth, whether she was married?” There was something disconcerting about that.

Rufus nodded. “I guess what worried me the most is the way Junius described the man—said he was not very tall, had a sharp nose, dark hair and eyes, and walked with a swagger. I couldn't help remembering—”

“That sounds like the wine merchant,” Quintus interrupted.

“That's how Elizabeth described Damian. Swaggering.” Rufus looked at Quintus. “Wine merchant?”

“Come on,” Abraham yelled as he bolted out of the office. “We have to hurry!” If the wine merchant and the bank customer bore a resemblance to Damian, he was taking no chances.

Abraham ran down Harbor Street at a breakneck pace, overturning a vendor's cart in his haste. The tradesman cursed as his vegetables scattered over the pavement, and Rufus called over his shoulder, “I'll cover your loss later.”

The trio sped across the city but had to slow down when they reached the hills. Abraham clawed his way up the slopes without bothering to follow the winding path he and Elizabeth had taken earlier. He climbed through a patch of thistles, not noticing how they scratched his ankles. All that mattered was getting to Elizabeth.

“I know where she's supposed to be,” Quintus told Rufus as they followed a short distance behind Abraham. “We'll catch up with you,” he yelled up the hill.

When Abraham reached the clearing, he saw the picnic basket lying on the blanket, but Elizabeth was nowhere in sight. The sick feeling in his stomach exploded into panic, and he could scarcely breathe.

“Elizzzaaabeth!” he shouted frantically while praying silently,
Please, God, let her just be off picking wildflowers or something.

Winded, Abraham stayed where he was for a moment and scanned the area. He could find no clue as to where she had gone. “Elizabeth!” he called again.

He heard a muffled scream and thought it came from a stand of laurel trees behind the clearing.

“Elizabeth!”
Abraham's cry echoed over the hillside as he tore into the woods, his heart pounding.

He spotted them a dozen yards into the thicket. Elizabeth's tunic was torn at the shoulders and hanging down to her waist. Her back pinned against a tree, she was struggling against her attacker, who held one hand over her mouth and groped her roughly with the other. She shoved and kicked but could not break loose from his grasp.

It was Damian, no doubt about it. Abraham closed the distance between them in an instant. He reacted in blind rage, yanking Damian by the hair with such force that his feet dangled in the air. Abraham slung him to the ground and kicked him in the stomach. Damian's face turned ashen and he had no breath, but Abraham snatched him to his feet again, then drove a massive fist like a sledgehammer into Damian's face. The bones in his nose popped like dry twigs, and blood gushed down his face. As Damian staggered backward, Abraham grabbed him by the throat and slammed his head into the trunk of a tree.

Damian slid to the ground, but Abraham kept pummeling him until he felt restraining hands pulling him back.

“Abraham, stop! You're going to kill him.” Quintus was half-apologetic. “You've stopped him. It's over. You can't just murder the man.”

Abraham froze in position over Damian, his elbow drawn back and his fist ready to deliver another blow. “Why not?” For a moment Abraham looked at Quintus in confusion, then he came to his senses. Damian was a murderer; he wasn't. But he likely would have been if Quintus hadn't stopped him.

He looked around for Elizabeth and saw her clutching her torn dress to cover herself. Rufus stood beside her, his arm around her protectively.

“Let him go,” Rufus said. “I don't think he'll be back after the beating you've given him.”

Abraham slowly stood up and looked down at Damian. Blood still poured from his nose and his face was purple and puffy from Abraham's fury.

In spite of his injuries, Damian spoke with defiance. “You're wrong, old man. I
will
be back—you can count on it. And next time, I'll take what is rightfully mine,” he said with a despicable look at Elizabeth.

Abraham took a step toward Damian, his fist automatically clenching, but Quintus held him back.

Damian stared at Abraham unflinchingly. “And then I'll kill you,” Damian said slowly. Finally he turned and limped down the hill.

Abraham unclenched his fists and walked over to Elizabeth, who fell against him, sobbing. For a few minutes he held her against his pounding heart, then he picked her up and carried her back to the clearing. The others followed.