East of Desolation by Jack Higgins Read Free Book Online Page A

started to give out with “All the Things You Are” and I turned and went back to the bar. My tomato juice was waiting for me in a tall glass. It was ice-cold, obviously straight from the fridge and tasted fine. I swallowed half and she toasted me with an empty glass, picked up the bottle of vodka that stood at her elbow and poured some in. She added a scoop of crushed ice, something close to amusement in her eyes.
    “The perfect drink. Tasteless, odourless, the same results as a shot in the arm and no headache in the morning.”
    I think I knew then what she had done and a moment later a sudden terrible spasm in the pit of my stomach confirmed it. I dropped the glass and clutched at the bar and her face seemed to crack wide open, the eyes widening in alarm.
    “What is it? What’s wrong?”
    The taste started to rise into my mouth, foul as sewer water and I turned and ran for the door. I slipped and stumbled halfway up the companionway and was aware of her calling my name and then I was out into the cool evening air. I just managed to make the rail when the final nausea hit me and I dropped to my knees and was violently sick.
    I hung there against the rail for a while, retching spasmodically, nothing left to come and finally managed to get some kind of control. When I got to my feet and turned she was standing a yard or two away lookingstrangely helpless, her face white, frightened.
    “What did you put into the tomato juice—vodka?” I said wearily.
    “I’m sorry.” Her voice was almost inaudible. “I didn’t mean any harm.”
    “What was I supposed to do, make a pass at you on one vodka?” I found a handkerchief, wiped my mouth and tossed it over the rail. “Something I omitted from the story of my life was the fact that I was once an alcoholic. That was as good a reason for my wife leaving me as all the romantic ones I gave you at Argamask. After I crawled back out of nowhere for the third time, she’d had enough. Her parting gift was to book me into a clinic that specialises in people like me. They did a very thorough job of aversion therapy with the aid of a couple of drugs called apomorphine and antabus. Just a taste of any kind of liquor these days and my guts turn inside out.”
    “I’m sorry,” she said. “You’ll never know how much.”
    “That’s all right, Myra,” I said. “You weren’t to know. Part of that fantasy life of mine that we were discussing earlier today and I’m stuck with it. I suppose we all have things we don’t care to discuss in mixed company.”
    She had gone very still from the moment that I had used her real name and suddenly I felt bitterly angry and sorry for her, both at the same time.
    I grabbed her by the arms and shook her furiously. “You stupid little bitch—just what are you trying to prove?”
    She struck out at me and wrenched herself free with a strength that was surprising. I staggered back, almost missing my footing and she turned and disappeared down the companionway. There was a murmur of voices and a moment later, Desforge appeared.
    “What in the hell is going on here?”
    “A slight disagreement, that’s all.”
    “Did you make a pass at her or something?”
    I laughed. “You’ll never know just how funny that is.”
    “But she was crying, Joe—I’ve never seen her do that before.”
    I frowned, trying to imagine her in tears and failed completely. Perhaps that other girl, the one in the graveyard at Argamask, but not Ilana Eytan.
    “Look, Jack, anything she got she asked for.”
    He raised a hand quickly. “Okay, boy, I believe you. All the same, I think I’d better go and see what’s wrong.”
    He went down the companionway and the door of the wheelhouse opened and Sørensen came out, his face impassive although I realised that he must have seen everything.
    “I’ve got that met report for you from Søndre, Joe. Things look pretty steady for the next couple of hours, but there’s a front moving in from the ice-cap. Heavy rain