Eye for an Eye by Bev Robitai Read Free Book Online Page A

a rusty water stain
on the lino, which curled up at the edges in protest. The sagging
single bed leaned tiredly against the wall, but at least the sheets
seemed clean when Robyn sniffed them suspiciously. She plonked her
pack down beside the bed and closed the door, then did a
double-take.
    ‘Bloody hell! A
door chain? Who do they expect to come breaking into a hotel like
this? Someone wanting my diamond tiara?’
    She threw
herself down on the bed, kicked off her shoes, and started to
relax. Then a quick movement on the wall beside her sent her
leaping for a shoe to squash the small brown insect that was
heading rapidly towards her pillow. She wiped away the ugly stain
with a tissue, and added bug spray to her list of things to
buy.
    Her stomach
growled, reminding her that it had been a long time since the last
meal on the plane. She scrabbled in her bag for a partly-squashed
muesli bar and washed it down with lukewarm bottled water, wishing
more than anything else in the world for a nice cup of tea.
     
    Up in his
penthouse apartment, Colwyn Symons sat on the balcony overlooking
the lake with a chilled glass of Chardonnay in his hand. A light
breeze cooled the air, while classical music played softly from his
state-of-the-art speakers. He was freshly showered after his
workout, and was looking forward to a dinner meeting with a couple
of clients that he thought were just about ready to sign the deal.
A little sweetening, a good meal at a top restaurant, plenty of
calm reassurance, and the money would be his. He sighed with
satisfaction.
    On the short
walk uptown to the restaurant, he took pains to avoid the places
where beggars habitually sat pan-handling, as their filth and
poverty quite spoiled his appetite.
    He wined and
dined his clients successfully, then took a taxi home, preferring
not to walk the city streets after dark. He took the elevator to
his cool air-conditioned apartment and enjoyed a peaceful night’s
sleep.
     
    Robyn was woken
at 3am by ear-splitting shrieks outside her window. Dazed and
stumbling in the unfamiliar room, she turned on the light to check
the time and swore quietly. More shouts pierced the night. Robyn
forced the window open as far as it would go and looked up, seeing
a lit window open three floors up on the opposite wing of the
building. Suddenly a vase came sailing through it and crashed onto
the grass.
    ‘Ooh you bitch,
I gave you that for your birthday!’
    ‘Well I never
liked it. The colours were all wrong. You never know what I
like.’
    ‘I know what
you like, sweetie - but you won’t be getting it from me any
more!’
    ‘Good!’ yelled
Robyn. ‘Now shut the hell up, will you?’
    She slammed the
window shut to cut off their petulant replies, and tried to get
back to sleep. She’d told the travel agent that the hotel had to be
cheap, but surely there was something better than this?
    She was woken
again at 5am by a body clock not yet attuned to local time, but
since she felt quite alert she decided to go along with it. Food
was urgently required, and she promised herself a proper breakfast
as soon as the nearest cafe was open. In the meantime, she searched
through her folder of important papers to find the photo she’d
taken off the TV, showing Colwyn Symons at the yacht marina. Today
was the day she would track the bastard down and start making him
wish he’d never been born. She slipped the photo into her jeans
pocket and laced on her running shoes.
    Once outside,
she was astonished to find that the city was already bustling with
life. Roadside stalls were selling a variety of cheap goods, subway
trains could be heard rumbling beneath the ventilator grilles in
the sidewalk, and traffic was already beginning to fill the
streets. She set off westwards, heading for Yonge Street which she
knew would take her right downtown and onto the lakefront.
    After a few
moments, the enticing scent of coffee caught her by the nose and
drew her into a small cafe serving early breakfasts.