The Heretic's Treasure by Scott Mariani Read Free Book Online

show for the intervening ten years. But somewhere behind the eyes, something had changed. There was pain there, some kind of emptiness. Ben had a feeling he was soon going to know more about it.
    ‘She was the Australian Open champion when I met her,’ Paxton said, nodding towards Zara. He smiled tenderly, a little sadly. ‘We’ve been married eleven months now.’
    Ben’s eye lingered on her for just a moment. Then he turned and looked back at his old colonel.
    ‘Hello, Benedict.’ Paxton grasped Ben’s hand and shook it with warmth and sincerity. ‘It’s so very good to see you again.’
    ‘It’s been a long time, Harry.’
    ‘Too damn long.’
    For a moment Ben thought about mentioning Helen. Saying how sorry he’d been to hear of her death. But it didn’t seem right with Paxton’s new wife standing just yards away.
    ‘Thanks for coming at such short notice,’ Paxton said warmly. ‘You’ve no idea how grateful I am to you.’
    ‘I knew you were a keen sailor,’ Ben said. ‘But this is something else. I’m extremely impressed.’
    ‘My hobby became my business,’ Paxton answered modestly, as though it was nothing. ‘I’d always had an interest in designing and building yachts, but it wasn’t until after I retired from the forces that I started getting into it more seriously.’ He waved his arm across the sweeping decks.
‘Scimitar
is the flagship of my little fleet. As well as manufacturing products to order for our clients, we run a charter business.’
    Ben smiled at the idea of a yacht this size being so casually termed a ‘product’. ‘You’ve done pretty well for yourself
    ‘As far as business is concerned,’ Paxton replied, ‘I can’t complain. I’ve been lucky.’ A dark look passed across his face, like a shadow. The sad look in his eyes suddenly intensified.
    ‘But you didn’t call me here to talk about business, did you?’ Ben said.
    Paxton sighed. ‘No, I didn’t. You’ve been very kind to come all this way. I owe you an explanation. Let’s go somewhere private. Bring your drink.’ He started down the companionway to the deck below.
    As Ben went to follow him, he glanced back over his shoulder. Zara Paxton was laying down her bow, watching him from a distance. She waved tentatively, and Ben caught the flash of a smile before he looked away.
    The interior of the yacht was even more spectacular than the exterior. Everything was burnished wood, and the carpets were thick and plush. Paxton led Ben through a series of corridors and opened a door. ‘This is my private library. We can talk in here without being disturbed.’
    Ben stepped inside the huge room and gazed around him at the floor-to-ceiling bookcases. He ran his eye along the spines of books. Shakespeare. Milton. Virgil. Row after row of military history and the age of sail. Where the walls weren’t covered in books, gilt-framed oils of nineteenth-century warships glistened in the sunbeams that streamed through an overhead skylight.
    Paxton motioned to a pair of burgundy Chesterfields. ‘Please, have a seat.’
    Ben sat down. The leather was cool against his back. He sipped his drink and watched Paxton for a moment. The colonel looked as if he was full of things to say, but didn’t know where to start.
    ‘What’s this about, Harry?’ Ben asked softly. ‘You said you needed my help.’
    ‘I’m sorry I was so mysterious on the phone,’ Paxton said. ‘It’s something I can discuss only in person.’ He walked over to a glossy antique sideboard that was covered with silver-framed photos. Some were of sleek white yachts in a variety of exotic locations, but most were family shots. Paxton picked one up, gazed at it for a moment, sighed and handed it to Ben.
    Ben looked at it, wondering what this was about. The picture showed a man in his early thirties, rather bookish, serious-looking. Glasses, thin sandy hair, a slight belly, narrow shoulders.
    ‘My son, Morgan,’ Paxton murmured.
    Ben glanced up in