The Amulet of Power - Mike Resnick [98]
“You make it sound inaccessible,” he replied. “Can we actually drive there, or do we walk the last mile or two?”
“They assured me we could drive right up to the front door. They also told me that their driveway is quite long and drops off precipitously on both sides, which means they’ll know if anyone follows us in a car.”
“Where is this hidden paradise?”
“On the Baie Ste. Anne—Saint Anne’s Bay to non-French-speakers.”
“And where’s that?”
“I’m not sure. But they told me how to get there. It’s not difficult; there’s only about twenty-five miles of road on the whole island, and only about half of it is paved. If we just keep going in this direction, we’ll get to their turnoff sooner or later. They’re about as far from the ferry dock as you can get, but on this small an island, that means they might be a fifteen or twenty-minute drive, tops.”
“I realize that you’re the brains of this operation and I’m just along to ride shotgun,” said Oliver, “but wouldn’t it make more sense to go to wherever you think the Amulet is right now, find it, and get the hell out of here?”
“We’ll get around to it,” she said. “Right now, though, I want to check in and have that breakfast we skipped on Mahé.”
“It’s your show,” he said in resignation. “I don’t even know what the damned thing looks like.”
“No one does—not exactly, anyway.”
“Then I don’t know how you expect to find it.”
“I’ve figured out where it is. All I have to do is go there and hunt for something that doesn’t belong.”
“I don’t know why,” said Oliver, “but I have a feeling you’re making it sound easier than it’s going to be.”
“Perhaps,” she said noncommittally.
“I also have the distinct impression that you’re not telling me everything you know.”
“I’m sorry you feel that way,” said Lara.
“I’m sure you are,” he replied. “But I notice you didn’t deny it.”
She made no reply, and they drove the next five miles in silence, just appreciating the scenery as they circled the island. They came to a sign proclaiming that they could turn left to the Vallée de Mai National Park—the center of Gordon’s Eden, the lush green valley that boasted the coco de mer forest. She passed it and continued along the coastal road until she came to a small sign directing them to the Chateau de Feuilles. She turned onto the resort’s narrow driveway, and finally the main building came into view.
She parked in front of it, went in, and registered in fluent French, then turned to Oliver as they walked back outside.
“Did you understand any of that?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I don’t speak a word of French. It was hard enough to learn Swahili.”
“Well, we each have a cottage of our own overlooking the bay. We’ll find the keys in the locks. I’ve got to leave the car here. There’s just a narrow path to the cottages. I got us the two that are farthest away from the Chateau.” She began walking. “Let’s put the guns away and see what the place looks like, and then we’ll come back for breakfast—or lunch, if it’s as late as I’m afraid it is.”
Oliver followed her as she went down the path past a large swimming pool surrounded by lounge chairs. The path turned toward the bay, and suddenly they came upon a quartet of very elegant cottages. She walked past the first two, then stopped at the door to the third.
“I’ll take this one,” she said.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer the one that’s closer to the water?”
“This’ll do fine. I’m going to take a look inside. Why don’t you check yours out, and I’ll meet you right here in, say, five minutes?”
“Okay.”
She entered her cottage as Oliver went off to inspect his own. The floors were a bronze-tinted tile, the walls were a cream-colored stucco, and there was a trio of ceiling fans. The bed was king-sized, and centered under mosquito netting that could be rolled down at night. There was a ceramic-tiled bathroom with everything she’d come to expect of a top-rated hostelry, and a stairway leading to a loft that had another bed.
She looked out the picture windows.