The rain thickened on the ride to the jetty. Wind whipped sheets against the windshield and the wipers worked at full speed to keep up. The driver drove carefully through the darkness. Kobak loved storms. As a child he would sit at the window in his London flat watching the wind driven rain barrel into the city from the Channel. He had kept a record of the strongest gusts. 134mph, November 24, 1989.
The driver slowed and stopped beside the gangplank to the company yacht. It was named Nadira after his mother. A ship steward in a yellow slicker, with the logo for Quantumnetics on the left breast, opened the passenger door. He braced a large umbrella against the wind. “Welcome, Mr. Kobak,” he said. “Terrible night to be on the water, sir.”
Kobak smiled and said nothing, as was his habit. He
