“That you should avoid men with guns?”
“Naw. That I should move faster. Keep me posted if you turn up anything before you leave for Istanbul.” Austin heard a knocking.” Got to go. Someone’s at the door.”
“Having company?”
“The very best kind. Ciao.”
The Italian connection dawned on Zavala. “Ciao? Hey—”
“Buona notte, Joe,” Austin said. He was chuckling as he hung up and went to open the front door.
CARINA MECHADI was waiting on the steps. She lifted the wine bottle in her hand. “I believe I have a dinner reservation for tonight.”
“Your table is ready and waiting, Signorina Mechadi.”
“You said casual. I hope I’m dressed for the occasion.”
Carina was wearing jeans with flowers stitched on them and a sleeveless blouse of turquoise. Her outfit emphasized her feminine curves in the most flattering way possible.
“A queen could not be more fashionably attired,” Austin said.
“Thank you,” Carina purred. She appraised Austin with equally appreciative eyes. He was wearing white shorts that emphasized his tanned, muscular legs, and his wide shoulders strained against a flowered silk shirt. “And you look quite smashing in that shirt.”
“Thanks. Elvis Presley wore the same design in the movie Blue Hawaii. Come right in.”
Carina stepped into the house, and her eyes took in the comfortable, Colonial-style dark wood furniture that was set off by white walls hung with original paintings by the local artists Austin liked to collect. There were some antique ocean charts and shipbuilding tools, a photo of Austin’s sailboat, and a scale model of his racing hydroplane.
“I thought I would see old anchors and stuffed swordfish hanging on the walls. Maybe an old diving helmet or ship models in bottles.”
Austin roared with laughter. “I used to drink margaritas in a Key West divers’ bar that fits that description.”
“You know what I mean,” Carina said with a smile. “You work for the world’s foremost oceanographic agency. I expected more evidence of your love of the sea.”
“I’ll guess that your place in Paris has little in it that would indicate to a stranger what your job is.”
“I have a few reproductions of classic artworks, but the rest is quite traditional.” She paused. “I get your point. It’s healthy to have some space from your work.”
“I’m not ready to move to Kansas, but the sea is a demanding mistress. That’s why the old ship captains usually built their houses inland.”
“Nevertheless, this is quite lovely.”
“It wouldn’t qualify for a photo spread in Architectural Digest, but it’s a great landside retreat for an old sea dog in between assignments. This building was a fixer-upper when I bought it, but it was it was riverfront property, and close to Langley.”
Carina picked up on the Langley connection. “You were in the CIA?”
“Underwater intelligence stuff. Mostly, spying on the Russians. We closed shop when the Cold War ended, and I went over to NUMA, where I work as an engineer.”
Despite Austin’s denial, his affini
ty to the sea was subtly evident in the wall shelves filled with the sea adventures of Joseph Conrad and Herman Melville. There were dozens of books on ocean science and history. The most hand-worn volumes were on philosophy. She pulled out a well-thumbed book.
“Aristotle. Pretty heavy reading,” she said.
“Studying the great philosophers supplies me with profound quotes that make me seem smarter than I am.”
“There is more here than bons mots. These books have been much read.”
“You’re very observant. I’ll use a maritime analogy. The wisdom in those pages keeps me anchored when I’m drifting into ambiguous waters.”