The Spy I Loved Read Online Free PDF Page A

the lake came as she gently closed the patio
door behind her. Not unexpectedly, there was the dim glow of one or
two fires. They were fifty or seventy-five metres away, back in the
little circle of cabins and their access track. With a few lit
windows and the reflections from reflectors and shiny vehicles, the
beams of ruddy light straggled up and back, following the irregular
contours of the hillside.
    She
wandered down to the docks. The water was mirror-like in its black
stillness and the pin-pricks of the stars reflecting on water meant
for a moment that she stood on the edge of an abyss.
    “ Oh, my.” She let out a big breath.
    It made
up for a lot, although a proper night’s sleep would have been
preferable. For a moment she debated taking a boat out for a proper
look. She’d often thought of taking some night photos out on the
lake, but she didn’t know much about it. The odds were she wouldn’t
get anything anyway. The odds were she’d go over and drown. Nice
thought that was, yelling and yelling for help and by the time
anyone came—if anyone even heard or bothered to investigate, she’d
be gone.
    They
might never find the body either.
    There
were canoes and paddles right there. She didn’t feel like going
back inside for the keys and getting a lifejacket out of Mark’s
little dockside service kiosk. To hell with it. She stood on the
narrow sandy beach, hugging herself to keep in the warmth and
looking up at the blazing northern sky.
    She
turned to the right, picking her way carefully in the darkness. The
light thrown from further up the bank made for impenetrable black
shadows under the rim. Dead logs showed up pale and there were
glimmers of the lighter boulders a few metres off from the beach.
Out on the water there was a brighter line of bleach bottles used
as marker buoys along the deepest approach to the camp.
    There was
a scrabbling noise up the bank, and at first she thought it was a
raccoon. Big, bold and inquisitive as all hell, they were a
constant problem. All of the camp’s garbage receptacles were steel,
with stiff spring-latches on the lid. She was just near the small
sandy strip behind Cabin Seven, where Liam had a deck chair
stationed for the daylight hours. The snapping of a large dry twig
caught her attention and then it came again. It was very near, and
Cabin Seven was closest to the water.
    The sound
of hard breathing sent a chill of fear go through Lindsey. She
froze in place, a tingling wave of adrenalin sweeping over her.
There was a straggle of brush along the shoreline and whoever, or
whatever it was, might not know she was there. Until she knew what
it was, it was so much better that way.
    She held
her breath, the pounding of her heart loud in her ears.
    A dark
figure stepped away from near the back door of Cabin Seven. The
dark hole where their face would have been if they weren’t wearing
a hoodie turned her way, and then they lunged into the far shadows
and disappeared from sight. A couple of quick thuds, running
footsteps on a thin layer of turf lying on solid rock, indicated
that they had gone around the building and up the hill.
    That
quick slithering sound was someone forcing their way through the
thin screen of brush between cabins.
     
    ***
     
    The man
known as Liam Kimball stood well back in the room. He had been
lying in bed, maybe even fast asleep. Something had awoken him.
There were sounds of course, for example the wind noise from the
tops of the tall white pines which overhung the entire camp. The
sound penetrated all but the thickest walls when the wind got
up.
    He’d
heard another sound, and something about that one made his hair
prickle. It was an odd little crack, down low and just on the other
side of his bedroom wall. He had gotten silently out of bed, going
to have a look out the back door. Some atavistic element of caution
had held him back from going straight up to the door, popping it
open and having a look. He’d hung back just long enough to see