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"Where is she?" Ted demanded.
"Oh, God, that crazy kid… The pool," Scott snapped, "the pool."
The car smashed through hedges and flower beds and roared toward the north end of the property. Inside the bungalows, lights began to go on.
They reached the patio. The fender of the car caught the edge of an umbrella table, knocking it over. The car stopped at the edge of the pool. Scott left the headlights on, and they shone over the water. Waves of the gathering fog shimmered in the lights.
They peered down into the pool. "There's no one here," Scott said. A terrible fear grabbed at him. Were they too late?
Ted was pointing at bubbles floating to the surface. "She's down there." Kicking off his shoes, he dived into the pool. He touched bottom and came up. "Get help," he yelled. He went down again and again.
Scott scrabbled in the glove compartment for his flashlight, grabbed it and saw a figure in a scuba-diving outfit begin to climb the ladder out of the pool. Drawing his pistol, he rushed toward the ladder. In a swift, violent gesture, the scuba diver lunged forward and butted him. The gun fell from Scott's hand as he slammed backward onto the patio.
Ted resurfaced. He was holding a limp figure in his arms. He began to swim toward the ladder, and as Scott dazedly pulled himself to a sitting position, the scuba diver fell backward onto Ted, dragging him and Elizabeth under the surface.
Gasping for breath, Scott reached out a groping hand. His numbed fingers closed around his gun. Pointing it upward, he fired two shots, and was rewarded by the insistent sound of sirens racing toward him.
Ted desperately tried to hold on to Elizabeth with one arm as he pummeled his attacker with the other. His lungs were bursting; he was still groggy from the effects of the sodium pentothal; he felt himself losing consciousness. Futilely he tried to punch the thick rubber suit. His blows fell harmlessly on the solid, massive chest.
The oxygen mask. He had to pull it off. He let go of Elizabeth, trying with all his strength to push her toward the surface. For a moment, the grip on him relaxed. A hand stretched past him, reaching to drag Elizabeth back. It gave him the chance to grab at the face mask. But before he could pull it off, a vicious shove sent him reeling backward.
She had held her breath, forcing herself to resist inhaling. She made herself go limp. There was no way she could get away from him. Her only hope was that he would think she was unconscious and leave her. Even from the feel of the arms that pi
She was slipping into unconsciousness. Hold on, she thought. No, it was Leila telling her to hold on. Sparrow, this is what I've been trying to tell you. Don't let me down now. He thinks he's safe. You can do it, Sparrow.
She felt the arms begin to release her. She was drifting down, trying to resist the impulse to fight her way to the surface. Wait, Sparrow, wait. Don't let him see you're still conscious.
And then she had felt someone grabbing her, pulling her up; other arms, arms that held her to him, cradled her. Ted.
She felt the night air on her face; gasped in one shuddering breath as, his arm around her neck, he dragged her along the top of the pool; heard his own breath, straining, choking, drowning out the sounds she was making.
And then she felt before she saw the heavy figure bear down on them and managed to pull in one great gulp of air before the water again covered her face.
Ted's arm tightened. She felt him flailing out. Craig was trying to kill both of them. Nothing mattered to Craig except to destroy them now. The water pressed against her eardrums. She could not fight Ted's grip. She felt the push as he tried to shove her toward the surface, felt Craig's grasp on her ankle and managed to kick it away.
On the surface she could see the cars pulling up, hear the shouts. Elizabeth gulped in air, once, twice, filled her lungs and then dived down, down to where Ted was fighting for his life. She knew where Craig was; the arc of her descent was directly over his head. He was squeezing Ted's neck. She reached both hands down. Lights were beaming over the water. She could see the silhouette of Craig's arms, the desperate struggle of Ted's body. She would have only one chance.
Now. She kicked-a sharp, cutting movement of her legs. She was directly over Craig. In a savage thrust, she managed to get her fingers under his face mask. He reached up, and she recoiled from the shove that made her head snap backward, but held on to the mask, held on until she had wrenched it away from his face.
She held it while he groped for it, while his arms grabbed her body, while he tried to pull it from her, held it until she felt him being pulled away from her, held it until, lungs bursting, she found herself being hauled to the surface, still in his grasp.
She could breathe at last. She choked in great gulping sobs as Ted finally relinquished his grip on Craig to the policemen who surrounded them in the water. Then, like two figures drawn by an irresistible magnetic force, she and Ted drifted to each other, and clinging together made their way to the ladder at the end of the pool…
Friday, September 4
QUOTE FOR THE DAY:
For love and beauty and delight. There is no death nor change.
– Shelley
Dear Spa guests,
Some of you will be leaving us today. Remember, our only concern has been you, your well-being, your health, your beauty. Go into the world knowing that you have been loved and cared for here at Cypress Point Spa, that we are longing for your return. Soon our magnificent Roman bathhouse will be completed. It will be the unparalleled and consummate experience. There will be separate hours for the women and men except between four and six, when we shall enjoy mixed bathing in the European fashion, a very special delight indeed.
Hurry back for another retreat into pampering and health-awareness in the serene atmosphere of Cypress Point Spa.
Baron and Baroness Helmut von Schreiber
One
The morning dawned clear and bright. The early-morning fog evaporated with the bright warmth of a glowing sun. Sea gulls and blackbirds swept high over the surf and returned to perch on the rocky dunes.
At Cypress Point Spa, the remaining guests followed their schedules. Water classes were held in the Olympic pool; masseurs kneaded muscles and pounded layers of fat; pampered bodies were wrapped in herbal-scented sheets; the business of beauty and luxury continued to function.
Scott had asked Min and Helmut, Syd and Cheryl, Elizabeth and Ted to meet him at eleven. They gathered in the music salon, the door closed, removed from the eyes and ears of the curious guests and staff.
Elizabeth remembered the rest of the night as a blur: Ted holding her… someone wrapping the robe around her… Dr. Whitley ordering her to bed.
Ted knocked at the door of her bungalow at ten of eleven. They walked up the path together, hands entwined, not needing to say what was between them.
Min and the Baron sat side by side. Min's face was weary but somehow more at peace, Elizabeth thought. There was something of the old Min in the steely determination in her eyes. The Baron, still so absolutely perfect in every hair on his head, his sport shirt resting on him with the ease of an ermine robe, his posture aloof, his assurance regained. For him too, the night had exorcised demons.