He took a deep breath, held it, and let it out slowly, then another. He closed his eyes and thought of sailing. The whole process took less than half a minute, and when he heard her voice, he was calm again.

“Mr. Ridgeway?’ Rebecca Weinstock’s aristocratic voice was now faintly plaintive. “I would appreciate a warm place to sit for a minute or two.”

“Sure.” Ridgeway said as he replaced the Smith & Wesson in his robe pocket and began to remove the polished teak companionway hatch.

He placed the last of the hatch boards below and offered his hand to help her navigate the short but steep steps down into the main cabin.

After showing her to a seat beside the table, Ridgeway turned toward the galley. The sight of the phone still lying off the hook reminded him that he had left Tony Bradford on the line.

“Tony?” he said, bringing the handset to his ear. “Tony?”

“Seth?” It was Karen Bradford again. “Professor Bradford had to leave for an appointment. He told me… he said I should tell you that—oh, I get so mad when he makes me do his dirty work. He said if you didn’t teach. class today he’d fire you.”

In the embarrassed silence that followed, Ridgeway closed his eyes, tried to think. He opened his eyes and glanced at his watch. He was due in the classroom in less than ten minutes. In the rain he’d be hard pressed to make it if he left immediately. He glanced over at Rebecca.

“I’m sorry, Seth,” Karen Bradford’s voice broke the silence. “I really am.”

“Don’t apologize, Karen,” Ridgeway said. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’ll try to make it.”

They hung up.

“I’m afraid I have very little time,” Ridgeway said. “I have to get dressed and teach a class.” Ridgeway looked at his notes on the table next to Rebecca. The woman’s eyes lingered on the notebook for a moment, then returned to Ridgeway.

“But—”

“Talk to me while I get dressed,” Ridgeway said, moving toward his cabin. “I’ll leave the door open so I can hear you.” But before Ridgeway could reach the door of his cabin, strong hands gripped the backs of his arms.

“Mr. Ridgeway, I have come a long way to see you,” she said. “Don’t brush me off like this.” Seth turned.

“You must give it to me,” she half shouted, hands held up in a sort of supplication. “Please give it to me. I’ve come prepared to compensate you handsomely.”

Ridgeway backed up, surprised by her outburst.

“Here,” Rebecca said, reaching into one pocket of her coat and drawing out a banded stack of currency that she thrust at Ridgeway. They were American thousand-dollar bills. No wonder the woman traveled with an armed chauffeur. In Ridgeway’s experience the only people he had ever seen with stacks of thousand-dollar bills were Colombian cocaine dealers.

“Go ahead,” she insisted, shaking the stack of bills at him. “It’s honest money from good people… and there’s more.” To prove her point, she reached into her other pocket and pulled out a matching stack. She moved closer, shoved one stack of bills into Ridgeway’s robe pocket on top of the Smith & Wesson. ‘Take it All you have to do is give it to me and the rest is yours too.”