Point Blanc Read Free Page B

hats. There were
bulldozers, cement mixers, and, towering above them all, a huge, canary yellow
crane. A sign read: RIVERVIEW HOUSE. And below it: ALL VISITORS REPORT TO THE
SITE OFFICE.
    Alex wondered if Skoda had some sort of business on
the site. He seemed to be heading for the entrance. But then he turned off.
Alex watched him, increasingly puzzled.
    The building site was wedged in between the bridge and
a cluster of modern buildings. There was a pub, then what looked like a
brand-new conference center, and finally a police station with a parking lot
half filled with official cars. But right next to the building site, sticking
out into the river, was a wooden jetty with two cabin cruisers and an old iron
barge quietly rusting in the murky water. Alex hadn't noticed the jetty
at first, but Skoda walked straight onto it, then climbed onto the barge. He
found a door, opened it, and disappeared inside. Was this where he lived? It
was already growing dark, and somehow Alex doubted he was about to set off on a
pleasure cruise down the River Thames.
    He got back on his bike and cycled slowly to the end
of the bridge, and then down toward the parking lot. He left the bike and his
backpack out of sight and continued on foot, moving more slowly as he
approached the jetty. He wasn't afraid of being caught. This was a public
place, and even if Skoda did reappear, there would be nothing he could do. But
he was curious, just what was the dealer doing on board a barge? It seemed a
bizarre place to have stopped. Alex still wasn't sure what he was going
to do, but he wanted to have a look inside. Then he would decide.
    The wooden jetty creaked under his feet as he stepped
onto it. The barge was called
Blue
Shadow
, but there was little blue left in the flaking paint, the
rusty ironwork, and the dirty, oil-covered decks. The barge was about thirty
yards long and very square with a single cabin in the center. It was lying low
in the water, and Alex guessed that most of the living quarters would be
underneath. He knelt down on the jetty and pretended to tie his shoelaces, hoping
to look through the narrow, slanting windows. But all the curtains were drawn.
What now?
    The barge was moored on one side of the jetty. The two
cabin cruisers were side by side on the other. Skoda wanted privacy--but
he must also need light, and there would be no need to draw the curtains on the
far side, with nothing there but the river. The only trouble was that to look
in the other windows, Alex would have to climb onto the barge itself. He
considered briefly. It had to be worth the risk. He was near enough to the
building site. Nobody was going to try to hurt him in broad daylight.
    He placed one foot on the deck, then slowly
transferred his weight onto it. He was afraid that moving the barge would give
him away. Sure enough, the barge dipped under his weight, but Alex had chosen
his moment well. A police launch was sailing past, heading up the river and
back into town. The barge bobbed naturally in its wake, and by the time it
settled, Alex was on board, crouching next to the cabin door.
    Now he could hear music coming from inside. The heavy
beat of a rock band. He didn't want to do it, but he knew there was only
one way to look in. He tried to find an area of the deck that wasn't too
covered in oil, then lay flat on his stomach. Clinging on to the handrail, he
lowered his head and shoulders over the side of the barge and shifted himself
forward so that he was hanging almost upside down over the water.
    He was right. The curtains on this side of the barge
were open. Looking through the dirty glass of the window, he could see two men.
Skoda was sitting on a bunk, smoking a cigarette. There was a second man,
blond-haired and ugly, with twisted lips and three days' stubble, wearing
a torn sweatshirt and jeans, making a cup of coffee at a small stove. The music
was coming from a boom box perched on a shelf. Alex looked around the cabin.
Besides two bunks and the