50 in 50

The screen went dark. I saw that there were four orders waiting for me; I punched them up, happy to work and take my mind off the affair at hand.

Kriket became a more frequent visitor in the next weeks, until she was there for dinner nearly every night. Not from any newfound filial responsibility, I was sure. She could never resist a man who offered a real challenge, and Cormac was challenge enough for anyone. The summer was turning into a long, hot one, and they swam every afternoon now, when he had finished work. I watched this, had a call from Gregory every day, brought up topics at the dinner table that I had no interest in — and generally began to get very irritated at myself. I put off the moment as long as I could, until I noticed that Kriket was again swimming topless. It was time to act. I changed into swimming trunks as well.

"Hello you two," I said, striding through the bubbling surf towards them. "A scorcher. Mind if I join you for a swim?"

Cormac stepped away from her a bit when I appeared.

"You hate swimming, Dads," she said, looking puzzled.

"Not on a day like this. And I bet I can still outswim you. Out to the buoy and back, what do you say?"

I touched my fingers to my lips as I took the pager bracelet off my wrist. Then reached out and unclasped Kriket's necklace with the pendant dolphin that disguised her pager. I held them below the surface of the water and swished them around before I spoke.

"Most people don't realize that these things are two-way. I want this conversation to be private."

"Dads, you're being paranoid…"

"Quite the contrary. Everything said in the house is being recorded by security. They think that Cormac is some kind of spy. I might have kept my silence except for the fact that I don't want you hurt."

I didn't think that he could do it, but Cormac managed to blush under his new tan. Kriket laughed.

"How sweet and medieval, Dads. But I can take care of myself."

"I hope so — although two divorces in three years is not much of a track record. Normally I would say it is your life and leave you to it. But Cormac is a foreign national, illegally in this country, suspected of a major crime."

"I don't believe a word of it! Cormac, sweet beast, tell Dads that he's brain-drained, that you're no spy."

"Your father is right, Kriket. According to your laws I'm here illegally, and they'll put me away as soon as it suits their fancy. I'm for a swim."

He dived in and splashed away. I noticed that he hadn't denied the spy charges. "Think about it," I said, then handed her back her necklace and plunged in as well.

The first of the autumn storms blew the heat away in September. We were watching them film the last of the series with a live interviewer. Thunder was rumbling outside but the filter circuits would grab the sound and nullify it.

"An ancient craft, nay verily, 'tis an art that is still practiced by aboriginals at the far ends of the world," the interviewer said. "But you have seen the incredibly ancient done right before your eyes, and I know that you, like me, have thrilled to see these lost skills exhumed from the darkness of history at last and displayed for all to see. That's it, cut and end."

"You're finished, then?" Cormac asked.

"In the can and we pull the set tomorrow."

"You do know that you were talking diabolical rubbish?"

"Of course. And you're being paid for it, Charley, don't forget that. With the average mental age of TV viewers hovering around twelve and a half, no one is going to lose money playing to that audience."

"And the boat?"

"Property of the network, Charley, read your contract. It goes with the rest tomorrow."

Cormac rested his hand on the smooth wood, rubbing it lightly. "Treat her well. You'll enjoy sailing in her."

"Going to sell her for money, Charley. Plenty of offers."

"Well, then." Cormac turned his back on the boat, already forgetting her. "It it suits your pleasure, Bil, I would greatly enjoy some of your bourbon, which, while not Irish whiskey, will do until the next bottle of Jamie comes along."

The rain was still lashing down and we ran the few meters to the house.

Kriket went off to dry her hair, and I poured two large drinks.

"Here's to you," he said, raising his. "May the road rise up before you and may you be in heaven a year before the devil knows you're gone."

"Are you saying goodbye?"

"I am. A wee man with bandy legs and a vile disposition, name of Gregory, talked to me today. Asked a lot of political questions — even more than you have. He's coming for me in a few minutes, but I wanted to say goodbye first."

"So quickly? And about those questions, I'm sorry. I simply did as I was asked."

"A man can do no more. I appreciate your hospitality — and would have done the same myself. I have had the money I earned transferred to your account. I can't use it where I'm going."

"That's not fair—"

"It is, and I'll have it no other way."

He raised his head and I heard it too, the sound of a copter almost drowned out by the rain. He stood.