by Susan Lewis
‘Sure,’ Harman replied, hiding his disappointment and passing the card to a secretary who had overheard Max’s instructions.
‘Thank you for letting me be here, Lanny,’ Max said, starting towards the door. ‘I really do appreciate it.’
‘Any time,’ Lanny assured him.
Max nodded. Then with half-mocking, half-humorous eyes, he said, ‘Tell me, this age-eliminator cream. Does it really work?’
‘Why, sure it works,’ Lanny cried. ‘All the research proves it.’
Max seemed thoughtful for a moment, then bringing his eyes back to Harman’s he smiled again. ‘Sounds like you really do have a winner on your hands then,’ he said, raising a single eyebrow. ‘With or without Galina.’
Harman’s smile wavered, then, as the full meaning of Max’s words hit him the blood drained from his face. ‘What are you saying, Max?’ he said, as the elevator doors opened and Max stepped inside.
‘Just that you can’t fail,’ Max responded.
Harman stood where he was gazing blankly at the elevator doors long after Max had gone, the veins in his temples throbbing, Max’s words resounding. With or without Galina. With or without Galina. Surely to God Romanov wasn’t planning to pull her now, right after they’d announced to the world that she was going to be the face for the future. No, he wouldn’t. It had just been one of those throw-away remarks a person makes sometimes. But Romanov didn’t strike him as the kind of guy who tossed out remarks like that without their having a live fuse attached. Galina was committed though, she’d signed the contract and if Romanov did anything to try to pull her now he’d have a law suit slapped on him faster than he could think. Except why would he pull her when she’d done so god-damned well for her first time out? She’d even handled The Poisoner like she was some kind of tea stain on the Queen’s best frock.
Jesus Christ, god-damnit, Harman seethed inwardly as he turned back to the conference suite. He’d known from the moment Maribeth had reminded him exactly who Galina Casimir was that they were sticking their necks out on this one, for the girl’s association with Romanov was more than a double-edged sword: it was a twenty-million-dollar gamble with nothing on the black. But it was one he’d been prepared to take, not only because the benefits, if they came, were guaranteed to outweigh the risks, but because, contrary to what The Poisoner believed, Lanny Harman knew for a fact that Galina Casimir had been nowhere near New York the night Carolyn Romanov was murdered. If there had been any ambiguity about that then Harman would have vetoed the very suggestion of Galina before it had a chance to hit his desk. As it was, he’d still had a hard time with it, for according to Maribeth, Galina wasn’t without her problems. Still, show him someone who wasn’t these days, and it wasn’t like she was crazy or anything, just a bit unpredictable. However, Romanov had personally underwritten the contract, was doing what it took to keep her on the straight and narrow, and when Harman put that together with her beauty, her charm and the allusions to her romance with Romanov, whose mystique was a hundred times more powerful than any marketing package Harman had ever heard of, he pretty much reckoned Primaire stock was headed straight through the ozone. Except maybe he’d got it wrong. Maybe with Romanov the risks were just too great.
With or without Galina.
Taking a handkerchief from his pocket Harman wiped it round his neck and dabbed the sweat from his brow. Then, suddenly realizing what he was doing and fancying he could hear Romanov laughing, he flung the handkerchief in the bin and forced himself to take a dozen deep, centralizing breaths, before quietly letting himself back into the conference room. If Max Romanov was going to start pulling the strings around here then he, Lanny Harman, had better get himself prepared.
‘Hello, darling,’ Galina said into the phone.
‘Hi, honey,’ Max smiled, pushing the button to close the screen between himself and his chauffeur while scrolling quickly through the day’s performing stocks on his computer.
‘So, how did I do?’ she asked.
‘You know how you did.’
‘I want to hear it from you.’
‘I was proud of you, Galina.’
He could hear the pleasure in her voice as she said, ‘I was scared half to death. Did it show?’
‘Not a bit. I was particularly impressed with the way you handled Posner. The guys in New York are celebrating.’
‘They’re drinking champagne here too.’
‘You going to join them?’
‘Maybe.’ She paused. ‘I wish you were here.’
‘I will be, soon.’
‘I’m afraid, Max.’
‘I know.’
‘I don’t want to do this any more. I want out, Max. Please. Can we get me out of it now?’
‘No, Galina. Too many people have got too much on the line for you to pull out now.’
‘That means you’ve bought shares in Primaire,’ she said sulkily.
‘Sure I did. I’ve got faith in you.’
Galina looked round as the door to the make-up suite’s second room opened and Ula put her head in. Waving her in, Galina said, ‘I deserve a reward for this, Max.’
‘You just said you’re weren’t going through with it.’
‘I said I didn’t want to, not that I wasn’t going to.’
Putting a hand over the receiver, Galina whispered to Ula, ‘He’ll ask to speak to you in a minute, but you won’t tell him, will you? Please, promise me, you won’t tell him what I did.’
‘I swear,’ Ula said.
‘Max, are you still there, darling?’
‘I’m here,’ he answered distractedly.
‘Thank you for the flowers. I forgot to say thank you for the flowers. Ula brought them this morning. I’ll sleep on them tonight and hold them and think of you. Their thorns will remind me of the way you make me feel.’
‘Put Ula on, honey.’
Holding the phone out to Ula, Galina turned to look at herself in the mirror, affecting a concentrated oblivion to what they were saying.
‘Max, hi,’ Ula said. ‘I take it you were watching.’
‘I was. What did she do after that you just promised not to tell?’
‘Nothing,’ Ula answered truthfully.
Max laughed, realizing that Galina had deliberately baited him. Then after tapping a few commands into his computer he said, ‘She handled herself well. Better than I expected.’
‘Peggy’s very proud of her,’ Ula responded, knowing it would make Max laugh, which it did.
‘Did you find your inner-Galina yet?’ he said.
‘Still looking. The Remmicks are hosting a dinner to celebrate tonight.’
‘Who’s going to be there?’
‘Maurice and Deon, Ellis, Mrs Clay, Marina and Aleks and me.’
‘You and Ellis got yourselves sorted yet?’ Max said.
‘Mind your own business.’
‘You are my business, both of you and it’s time one of you backed down and said sorry.’
‘Tell him that. What are you doing this evening?’
‘Catching up. Has Galina said anything to you about wanting to back out?’
Ula’s eyes flew to Galina. ‘No. Why? Did she to you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Christ! Serious?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘What do you want her to do?’
‘I want her to see it through, Ula.’
‘Yes, yes, of course,’ Ula said hurriedly. ‘I just didn’t know whether you . . .’ Realizing she couldn’t go any further while Galina was sitting there she said, ‘She really is sad you’re not here.’
Meeting Ula’s eyes in the mirror Galina smiled. ‘Tell him I love him,’ she said.
‘She says to tell you . . .’
‘I heard. Tell her I love her too. Do you need to speak to me in private?’
‘Yes.’
‘OK. I’ll be at the apartment in about ten minutes. I’ll be there for the rest of the evening. Call me when you can.’
‘No. Tell her what I said and to be sure she calls me before she goes to sleep.’
‘Will do.’ Putting the phone on the glass-topped dresser in front of Galina, Ula stood behind her and began to massage her shoulders. The dress and diamonds had been taken off her a few minutes ago, but the make-up was still intact. ‘How are you feeling?’ she said, watching Galina’s face in the mirror.
Galina shrugged. ‘Kind of buzzy, I suppose. And a bit like it all happened to someone else. Peggy’s a scream, isn’t she? I think she’s forgiven me for what I said earlier.’
‘Of course she has. She knows you didn’t mean it.’
Galina bowed her head and moaned softly as Ula increased the pressure of her fingers.
‘Max said to tell you he loves you,’ Ula said.
‘Did he?’ Galina smiled dreamily. ‘Could you go and ask Mimi to come and take my make-up off?’
‘Sure.’ Kissing her gently on the top of the head, Ula walked over to the door. ‘Did you come in your own car this morning or did they send one for you?’ she asked, turning back.
‘I came in my own.’
‘OK. So you’ve got transport out to Maurice’s. I’ll go on ahead and meet you there. Unless you want me to wait. The freeway’ll be pretty jammed up by now . . .’
‘No, you go on, there’s no need to wait.’
After the door had closed behind Ula, Galina tiptoed over to it, listened for a moment, then pulled it open to check that no one was there. The small hallway between the two bedrooms of the suite was empty, the sound of voices in the other room was muffled enough for her to know instantly if the door opened.
Moving quickly back to the phone, Galina picked it up and dialled. Someone answered on the fourth ring.
‘Hi, it’s me, Galina,’ she said.
‘This is a surprise.’
‘Can you fix it for tonight?’ she said.
‘Sure. But I thought you promised Max.’
‘I did, but he’s in New York. He won’t know. It can be quick.’
‘OK. But you’re going to be famous now, are you sure you still want to do this?’
‘I’m sure,’ she whispered, swinging round as the door to the other room opened. ‘Yeah, it’s really good to talk to you too,’ she said, smiling up at Mimi. ‘See you then,’ and she rang off.
The following morning Max was in his office on East 54th by six thirty. Apart from security there was no one else around, so he was able to spend an uninterrupted hour going through the papers and sipping the bitter coffee that Hans, the chief security guard, had brewed up for him. Galina had made a couple of front pages, though the New York Times and New Yorker had positioned her on inside pages with no more than the customary captions announcing her contract with Primaire. It was too early yet to know how the Los Angeles press had handled the story, but he was gratified to see that here on the East Coast there had been no mention of him at all.
Turning to the financial pages, he made a quick study of the world’s fluctuating economies and the share prices that interested him, then picking up the phone he spoke first to London, then to Bonn, while checking through the data on the computer screen in front of him and preparing an E-mail for Ed Sherwin, Romanov’s president. At seven o’clock he left the office and jogged over to the gym on 58th. After a strenuous hour’s work-out he returned to the office to find fresh coffee and croissants on his desk, put there by Lauren, his secretary. The day was off to its customary start, Theo Straussen was due in half an hour so he had time now to go over the latest reports from South Africa.
On the scale of things he had to deal with, Rhiannon Edwardes’s movements, motives and morals were trivial issues, but flicking through the updated photographs and faxed information, Max found himself surprisingly intrigued by the minutiae of someone else’s life – someone who, for the moment at least, was so far removed from his own. There was every chance she would stay that way, for the very nature of what she did precluded her from ever being welcomed in his house. However, Galina was currently entertaining the idea of re-establishing contact with her old friend, so, before vetoing the suggestion out of hand, Max had decided to have the woman checked out. His guess was he’d draw a blind on it anyway, as he loathed journalists on principle and a journalist who was carrying the kind of grudge against Galina that this one might be would be a dangerous guest to have around.
Picking up his coffee, he gazed thoughtfully down at an enlargement of Rhiannon’s unusual freckled face with its small, sparkling brown eyes, extravagant mouth and all that amazing red hair. But he was no longer thinking about her, he was thinking about Galina and the fact she hadn’t called last night. In fact, it must have been some party they’d had over at Maurice’s because neither Ula nor the kids had called either. He glanced at his watch. It was still too early to get on the phone so with a grimace at his concern he refocused his eyes on Rhiannon Edwardes.
‘Max?’ Lauren’s voice came over the intercom.
‘Yeah?’ he responded.
‘They just called from downstairs to say Theo Straussen arrived. He knows he’s early, but I told them to send him up anyway. Shall I have him wait?’
‘No. Send him right in,’ Max answered, tapping out the code to check on his E-Mail. ‘No calls or faxes from LA yet this morning?’ he said.
‘No. It’s not even six a.m. over there.’
Going back to the file in front of him, Max quickly scanned the rest of the photographs and detailed report. No nude shots this time, he noticed, almost laughing as he felt the disappointment. The fact that she had no idea she was being watched caused him no pangs of conscience, for as far as he was concerned those who snooped on others, as she in her profession did, were fair game themselves. Still, there was no evidence so far to suggest that she was carrying any sort of a grudge against Galina for the way Galina had taken off with the bridegroom-to-be a few years ago, in fact looking at her here, on the terrace of some Cape Town hotel, flirting with her diamond dealer boyfriend, she looked about as happy and in love as happy and in love could get. But Max knew better than to take anything at face value; he wanted to hear what Theo Straussen had to say about Oliver Maguire before he came to a decision on whether or not to close the door on Rhiannon Edwardes.
A few minutes later Lauren showed in three dark-suited men, the shortest and oldest of whom was Theo Straussen.
Max rose to his feet. Straussen’s sharp green eyes seemed almost to hook into him as he walked round his desk. It was the first time the two men had met, though Max knew that his grandfather had harboured a not inconsiderable respect for Straussen, whose influence and reputation was the subject of as much conjecture and ill-informed opinion as Max’s own. But, as Max knew only too well, there was no smoke without fire and he had little doubt that a good number of Straussen’s morals would be found smouldering in the ashes come Judgement Day.
‘Come in,’ Max said, shaking the old man’s hand.
Straussen’s piercing eyes were boldly assessing and flecked with humour. ‘I knew your grandfather,’ he told Max. ‘A good man. A wise man.’
‘Thank you,’ Max said, waving Straussen to a chair. ‘Can I get you something? Coffee?’
‘No,’ Straussen responded, sitting down and holding a pair of leather gloves between his gnarled old hands. ‘I’m a busy man so let’s come right to the point. You want to know about Oliver Maguire?’
Max regarded him steadily.
Straussen chuckled. ‘You’re thinking, you don’t get anything for nothing in this life, and it could be you’re right. But what you get here today, you get for free. I just ask one thing, that whatever problem you might have with what I’m gonna tell you, whatever your personal feelings might be, you keep them to yourself. OK?’
Max nodded and looped an arm over the back of his chair.
Twenty minutes later, as the door closed behind Straussen and his henchmen, Max walked back to his desk and opening the t
op drawer took out the photographs of Rhiannon and her boyfriend. The first time Max had spoken to Straussen on the subject of Maguire, Straussen had told him about a contract he and Maguire had. This time Straussen had told Max the details of that contract and Max had to concede that the old man had a right to be feeling as aggrieved as he was, when Maguire was showing every sign of breaking the terms of their agreement. Straussen’s method of dealing with that certainly wouldn’t be Max’s, but then it wasn’t Max’s style to sit in judgement of another man’s methods. Leafing through the photographs, Max stopped when he came to a clear shot of Maguire and looked down at his face. It was beyond Max how any man could enter into the kind of deal Maguire had entered into with Straussen, even if it did look like he had everything to gain. But if Maguire thought he was going to get out of it by doing what he appeared to be doing, then the man had to be clean out of his mind.
‘Max,’ Lauren said over the speaker, ‘it’s Ula on the line. She says it’s urgent.’
‘Put her on,’ Max barked. ‘Ula?’ he said, snatching up the receiver. ‘What’s up?’
‘It’s Galina,’ Ula said breathlessly.
‘Where is she?’
‘We’ve been out all night looking for her. She never showed up at Maurice’s. I left her at the hotel. She said she was going to drive herself over. Everything had gone so well . . . I never dreamt she’d take off . . . Max, I’m sorry . . . Maurice and Ellis are still out there looking.’
‘I take it they’ve tried all the regular places?’ Max said tightly.
‘Yeah. There’s no sign of her.’
‘Who was the last to see her?’
‘Mimi, the make-up lady. She said Galina was on the phone to someone just before she left, but she doesn’t know who.’
‘She didn’t hear any names?’
‘Not that she can remember. Galina’s taken the phone with her, so we’ve got no way of tracing the call either. We’ve tried everywhere, Max. The hospitals, the airport, the railroad stations . . . It doesn’t look like she went back to her apartment at any time and there’s no sign of her car . . .’ She broke off, turning away from the receiver as she spoke to someone else in the room. Within seconds she was back on the line. ‘It’s OK,’ she gasped. ‘Maurice just came in. They found her.’