The Jaguar Read Online Free PDF

started to sway in a manner Marcus could sense was stoking his giddiness and jetlag, as his tormentor complained at the state of the roads. The monologue turned to the unseasonably cold and wet weather. This seemed an unlikely contrast to Marcus’ sweaty and increasingly smelly self - an enquiry at this point establishing that the cabbie was called Eric and that he had not felt it warm enough to turn on the air conditioning. He did so, with an exaggerated shrug of the shoulders, following Marcus’ polite insistence.
    After adding two hours of driving to the ten hour flight, the car swung through a grand, flower-fringed concrete portal and stopped at a security barrier. Marcus woke from fitful sleep to see Eric deep in conversation with the security guard. His attention was drawn to his driver’s neck. A tattoo had emerged from beneath his blue and slightly frayed shirt collar. It revealed a complex shield containing symbols including a football, a pistol, a lightning bolt and the letter X. All were in black and somehow the ensemble was slightly sinister and seemingly not the sports insignia that Marcus at first suspected. Moments later the taxi was engulfed by the reassuring sights and sounds of an all-inclusive, 5-star tropical resort. It wove past joggers, family groups on wobbly bicycles, and snake-like land trains. The roadway emerged from a dense patch of trail-pierced jungle to reveal the main car park and a grand thatched, timber-clad reception building. It was fronted by a fountain of leaping dolphins and a shining marble staircase. Standing between these was the familiar figure of Dana Murphy, Deputy Programme Manager for Carlton Travel Group’s Caribbean Division and the main line of communication to Tailwind Adventure.
    Dana held out a pale, limp, slim-fingered hand as Marcus approached. Her height, slender figure and shock of red hair gave her gesture an almost imperious quality, leaving Marcus half tempted to kiss, rather than to shake it. The pair exchanged a few pleasantries, Dana speaking with a lazy Celtic lilt which Marcus found instantly soothing. As Eric dumped Marcus’ cases unceremoniously beside him, Dana issued an apologetic smile and said she would join him again shortly. With an unexpected burst of energy she skipped up the steps like a startled fawn and disappeared into the foyer.
    A freshly showered and shaved Marcus stretched his long legs across the balcony of a newly completed honeymoon suite, taking in the expansive ocean view. Flecks of white spray marked the line of an offshore reef and dark shadows tracked the course of passing clouds in the grip of a strong onshore breeze. Children chased footballs across the white sands, as hotel staff fought to close a line of parasols in danger of blowing away.
    Dana emerged from behind the curtains with a jug of Pimms and glasses retrieved from the housekeeper. Settling opposite Marcus, both concentrated upon their drinks. Marcus wondered whether to imbibe so soon after the flight. He rubbed his forehead to see if he could make an impression upon a dull headache and a vague sense that he was still in motion.
    Dana stole a critical glance at her guest’s profile. His features, particularly his nose and chin, were long and heavy and his eyes dark brown and slightly sunken beneath bushy brows. A fine head of chestnut hair had been whipped up by the recent wash and the wind. The overall impression was of strength and masculinity, rather than good looks, and his height, broad shoulders and narrow waist provided an innate impression of athleticism. This was the first time that Dana had met Marcus in an informal setting and she was already beginning to feel relaxed in his company. She was used to people talking incessantly about the minutiae of this or that aspect of the travel business. Marcus, although polite, seemed utterly disinterested, which inevitably fuelled a degree of fascination.
    Later the pair decided to walk the furthest