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pursuit of a sale or a photo opportunity. After a quick bite at a glitzy "American" hamburger place, Cyrus accompanied Kyna to the harbor and waited at the end of the gangplank of a seventy-foot motor yacht while she swapped the stones for cash. |
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Kyna bounced back down the gangplank with a shopping bag in her left hand to balance the briefcase in her right and they went to the car to make the deposit. The Lincoln's trunk was filling up fast. Cyrus had never asked Kyna how much cash was in there, but from the looks of it, there was enough to keep a body living comfortably for a lot of years. |
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With the cash locked safely in the rolling vault, Kyna turned to Cyrus. "We still have two hours to kill before we can board the ferry to the States." |
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They went back for more shopping. |
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At four-thirty Cyrus was standing in front of a mirror in one of Victoria's finer haberdasheries, giving a critical eye to a cashmere sports jacket that he knew he could never afford and listening to Kyna's unsolicited opinion. He happened to glance up at the clock on the wall. |
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"Jesus!" Cyrus turned to the tailor. "What time does the ferry leave?" |
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The mana very distinguished older gentleman with a white moustachelooked down his long patrician nose and replied in a voice that left no doubt to anyone within earshot that he thought Cyrus was an idiot, "Why, five o'clock, of course." |
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They raced down the cobblestone slope to the parking lot. As they approached the Lincoln from one end of the lot, an old man with a burlap bag draped over his shoulder was pushing a rusty shopping cart toward them from the other end. |
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"Isn't that the old geezer that was hanging around the hotel lobby this morning?" Cyrus panted. |
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Kyna was fumbling in her bag for the car keys. "I don't know, maybe." |
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