“Chris, don’t you think you’re pushing it just a bit on your first assignment?”
“I know a good story when I see one,” she said. “You can explain that to them in New York. I think the network might want a feed for the evening news, too. Check on that, will you?”
“Sure.”
Stone began to feel good about this. Now all Allison had to do was charm Chris Wheaton out of her socks, and that might not be easy.
Chapter
17
After dinner Stone said good night to the 60 Minutes people and walked back toward the marina. He had no sooner set foot on the dock when he found himself grabbed from both sides by two shadowy figures. He made a point of not struggling.
“Is one of you Thomas Hardy’s brother?” he asked the darkness.
“Both of us is,” a deep voice replied.
“My name is Stone Barrington; I live on the smaller of the two yachts over there. I’m the one who asked Thomas to find some security.” The pressure on his arms relaxed, but he was not let go.
“You got some ID, then?” the voice asked.
“Right-hand rear pocket,” he said. “My New York driver’s license.” He felt some fumbling, and a flashlight came on.
“Okay, then, Mr. Barrington, we’ll know you next time.”
“Gentlemen…” Stone began.
“Henry and Arliss,” the voice said.
“Henry and Arliss, I think our purposes would be better served if you stood over there under the lamp by the gate, instead of lurking in the dark. You can do the most good by being seen to be keeping people away from Mrs. Manning.”
“I see your point,” Henry replied. “You expecting anybody else? Anybody at all?”
“Not until early tomorrow morning, when some people, including a camera crew, will be coming down here. Please keep them at the gate until you’ve called me. Just rap on the hull; I’ll be awake.”
“Of which boat?” Henry asked.
Stone decided to pretend there was no meaning in the question. “The smaller one.”
“Good night, then, Mr. Barrington.”
“Good night, Henry, Arliss; see you in the morning.” Stone walked down to his boat and went aboard. The lights aboard the big yacht were out. He undressed and climbed gratefully into his berth, just in time to hear a dim scrambling in the cockpit. A moment later, Allison was crawling into bed with him; she was naked.
“I take it you met Henry and Arliss,” she said, snuggling up to him.
“I did, and I hope to God you didn’t meet them on the way across the pontoon.”
“Nope. They’re standing up by the gate now; I could see them.”
“Were you naked when you left your boat, or after you arrived on mine?”
“The whole time.”
Stone laughed in spite of himself. “Allison, while your craving for my body may be perfectly understandable—even admirable—you have to remember that there is now on the island a camera crew for the most popular television news program in the United States of America, and we don’t know yet how powerful their lenses are.”
“I’m glad you understand my craving,” she said.
“On Sunday night, your interview may be preceded by a shot of you, naked in the moonlight, climbing aboard your lawyer’s boat. That might not exactly get the American public behind you.”