by Davis Bunn
She heard herself say, “The youngest children gather fuel. But as I said, there aren’t any trees left. So they gather animal dung and thornbushes. And old bones. There are bones every-where now. The fields are full of dust and animal carcasses picked clean. Fires of cow dung and thorn brush and dried bones give off an amazing aroma. I know it sounds horrid. But the smell is like some exotic spice. This morning I finally got round to unpacking my suitcases so I could give everything a proper wash. The smell took me straight back. It is in everything. Even my hairbrush.”
Kayla stopped then. The words dried up entirely. For she had another image, one of Geoffrey entering the offices. He had always taken a taxi from the hotel where he had lived to the project. Geoffrey liked to say he wasn’t above helping the unwashed masses, but he needed a proper start to the day. He was fastidious in his dress and almost foppish in his manners. But his smile and his charm and his incredible looks had been enough to mask the distance from which he had viewed life in Africa. Or so it had been, until that morning.
Kayla blinked and slowly came around. Adam watched her with an impossible patience. Impossible that a haircut and some new clothes could change him so much. His face looked leaner, his manner more polished. She felt a sudden desperate urge to claim he was just another thief, just another liar. Just like all men were bound to be.
Because to do otherwise would be to accept what her heart now whispered. That Adam was not merely different. Nor was he just a friend. The way he looked at her now invited Kayla to bridge the impossible divide and enter the forbidden zone. The zone beyond the walls that, up to now, she had called protection. The temptation hovered in the air between them, sparkling in the sunlight upon gossamer wings of invitation.
She whispered, “We really should be going.”
chapter 9
They took a taxi back to Adam’s residence, his purchases piled on the seat between them. He hurried up to his room, dropped off the gear he was not now wearing, then returned to the street fearing she would use the interruption as an excuse to change the subject. When he settled into the old Mercedes, he asked, “Who was the guy who broke your heart?”
Kayla started the car. “His name was Geoffrey Rambling.”
“A name like that, he had to be British.”
“Extremely. We met in Nairobi. I was down for a conference. He claimed to have been a consultant to the ministry of finance, sent there by his UK bank.” She put the car into gear. “Daddy’s board insisted that I hire a qualified business manager.”
“They financed your project?”
“Oxford Ventures hoped to use my work as a centerpiece for a new ad campaign. Daddy has always been big on giving back to the community. The way he put it to the board was, ‘We now operate in a global village.’ ”
“Very smart.”
“Not smart enough to keep their money safe.”
“So you hired Geoffrey and he stole from the project. How much?”
Their rumbling passage down the gravel drive nearly masked her words. “Over six hundred thousand pounds.”
As they climbed the company’s front stairs, Adam asked, “How long do you have? Before you go back, I mean.”
Kayla heard the quick hesitation, and knew he had started to ask, we. How long do we have? “Daddy’s birthday is next Friday. I’ll stay for that.”
Adam kept his face carefully impassive. “So, eight days.”
“Yes.”
“You can’t stay for Christmas?”
As soon as the front doors opened, the receptionist said, “Ms. Austin, your father needs to see you immediately.”
“Thank you.” Kayla faced Adam. “I shouldn’t stay even this long. But it would mean so much to Daddy.”
“I see.”
“Ms. Austin, your father was most insistent.”
Kayla excused herself and walked to the chairman’s suite. She entered her father’s office in a wavering state. Her carefully constructed intentions that included no room for another man, the ones she had assumed were both binding and permanent, had new fault lines.
Her father was seated behind the desk, which was uncommon when there was a guest in his room. Peter Austin liked to treat all visitors as distinguished guests, employees included. Normally he led them to the sofa and saw to coffee, settling down only when they were comfortable. Yet now he sat ensconced behind his beechwood desk, his weary features creased into a frown. “She is here, Joshua. Ask her.”
Joshua was seated across from him, his own anger very evident. “Give us your impressions of this Wright fellow.”
Kayla walked to the chair normally reserved for Mrs. Drummond when there was a meeting that required minutes. But she did not sit down. Instead, she stood behind it and rested her hands on the back, as though placing a shield between her and the room. “He was very grateful that Daddy is giving him a chance.”
“Not enough, I’m afraid.” Joshua’s gaze did not waver. “We seek insight into his character.”
Kayla said, “Adam Wright is a real gentleman.”
“Correction. He is an actor.”
“Was,” Peter said. “I believe you once did some amateur theatrics yourself.”
Joshua flushed. “That was in college, as you well know. This man is a so-called professional, though the word scarcely fits the nonsense he portrayed.”
“Do you mean to tell me you would have refused payment if someone had offered you a professional gig?”
Joshua crossed his arms. “I seek data. Your daughter has a singular ability to see to the heart of matters.”
Not with Geoffrey Rambling, she silently corrected him. “Adam was completely uncomfortable with spending money, even though it was given to him specifically to kit him out.”
Joshua erupted. “Really, Peter. You gave him money from the company accounts?”
Peter waved that aside. “So the man is miserly. Given what the company faces, I’d say it is a distinct advantage.”
“Until we know more, I must insist that Wright not be permitted access to company matters.”
“Don’t be absurd, Joshua.”
“Absurd, am I? What if he is another spy?”
“You have no evidence any such spy exists. Or even that mvp is after us.”
“No, but I’m looking. It’s only a matter of time before I ferret them out.”
Peter sighed his exasperation and picked up the phone. “Mrs. Drummond, be so good as to ask Adam Wright to join us.”
When he entered the chairman’s office, Adam was greeted by a scene strong as a warning light. Peter Austin frowned mightily at something on his desk. Two chairs were drawn up to the desk’s other side. Joshua Dobbins occupied one. Kayla stood behind the other, her fingers playing nervously on the back. She would not meet his gaze.
“You have him here, Joshua,” Peter said. “Do get on with it.”
The finance man said to Adam, “I want to know what proposals you intend to put forward.”
“You gave me thirty days.”
“Indeed you did, Joshua,” Peter agreed. “You told me that yourself.”
“If the man is half as good as you claim, he will not have arrived here empty-handed.”
Adam confirmed, “Actually, I have been studying several possibilities since I met with Peter in Washington.”
Peter’s features cleared somewhat. “Have you indeed?”
“One is a German company. Herrstadt.”
Joshua rose from his chair. “Spell that.”
Adam did so. Joshua stepped in beside his chairman and typed into the computer. Joshua read off the screen, “Herrstadt’s specialty is structural engineering. Traded on the Frankfurt exchange. Three hundred million euro turnover.” Joshua glanced up. “Their stock is down forty-one percent for the year. Hardly a ringing endorsement.”
Adam replied, “Herrstadt specializes in overseas public works projects. Bridges, roads, sewage systems. They won a major contract for rebuilding Basra, the main port city in Iraq. Four mon
ths ago, their two top engineers were kidnapped. Their men were freed, but the company has since pulled out of the country. They lost a ton in retainer, and they had no project to take up the slack. It’s put them in the red for the year. They’re listed on the Frankfurt exchange. Their stock tanked.”
Joshua stood by the computer. He wore what was apparently his standard uniform of white shirt, dark pants, dark tie. His face was as starched and narrow as his clothes. “This is a reason to invest in them?”
“Before the civil crisis, they were the largest road builders in the Congo.”
Joshua protested to the company chairman, “This is insane. The Congo makes the Iraq crisis look like a cakewalk.”
“It did,” Adam corrected. “But not anymore.”
Peter said, “Let the man finish, Joshua.”
“The United Nations has just pulled off the first free elections in forty years,” Adam went on. “There is a growing sentiment among companies specializing in the developing world that the Congo is going to be the next big success story. The worldwide commodities market is exploding. Copper prices have doubled, silver is up five hundred percent. The Congo is a major supplier of both. The new government’s first act was to sign a contract with Newland Mining for one new project with proven reserves of fifty million metric tons of copper ore, valued at four hundred billion dollars.”
Joshua bent over the computer. “So we could invest in Newland. They’re a sound company with solid footing in the Congo.”
“Newland’s stock is up sixty percent in the past three weeks.”
Joshua typed, studied the screen, then glanced at Peter. The chairman said, “So we were late on Newland. Why this German firm?”
“To reopen the diamond mines and keep this new cop-per mine viable, there has to be stability. The UN has agreed to keep peacekeepers in the country for another four years. One of their stated aims is to supply protection directly to the builders of new infrastructure, especially roads to the outlying regions.”
Joshua demanded, “How do you know Herrstadt is going to build them?”
“Because,” Adam replied, “Herrstadt is the only company invited to bid.”
Joshua said to the chairman, “How could he possibly know this unless they are granting him insider access?”
“Nobody has granted me anything,” Adam retorted. “And who is ‘they’?”
Peter asked in return, “Would you please explain to Joshua how you obtained this decidedly confidential information?”
“It was announced weeks ago. The financial press dis-counted it because of Herrstadt’s pullout from Iraq. The chair-man has since said their pullout was part of the ransom demand to free their two kidnapped executives.”
“Or so you say.”
“If you scroll down, you’ll find it all in the company’s latest quarterly update.” Adam watched Joshua bend back over the keyboard, and added, “There’s something else. Even facing this drastic loss and the slide in both stock price and earnings, they have not fired a single employee. Which strongly suggests they have a backup plan.”
Peter asked, “How much do our foes have invested in companies relying on third-world projects?”
Joshua remained focused upon the computer screen.
“Nothing. Isn’t that the correct sum, Joshua? Nothing whatsoever?”
Adam asked again, “Who do you think I’m spying for?”
Peter said, “Would the both of you be so good as to give us a moment alone?”
Adam followed Kayla from her father’s office. He did not need an analyst’s brain to see the facts branded in the air before his eyes. The company was in dire peril, and even if it managed to survive a bit longer, Joshua Dobbins wanted him gone. Kayla was leaving, her own dreams in tatters. His pocket was full of money he had not earned, he was dressed in clothes for a job he might not have tomorrow, and his heart was wrenched by the thought of losing a woman he had known for one day. “Let’s go for a walk.”
He did not speak again until they were outside the front doors and Kayla was shivering in a wind he could not be bothered to feel. Adam took off his jacket and draped it around her shoulders. “I know you’ve got a world full of reasons not to trust me, and if you refuse I won’t try again. But like I told you in town, I want to help. And the only way I can do that is if you tell me what’s going on.”
To her credit, Kayla neither hesitated nor asked what he was talking about. “Before he started this company, Daddy worked for a company called Madden and Van Pater—”
“Sure. They’re known as mvp.” Adam made no attempt to hide how impressed he was. “You see their ads everywhere. mvp, the most valuable player on your financial team.”
Kayla went on, “When Daddy left, he took some of their clients. They’ve been gunning for him ever since. Daddy is convinced they’re behind this latest crisis.” She swept the hair out of her face. “He was arguing with Joshua this morning, saying they needed to hire a detective to see if they could find any evidence to back his assumptions. Joshua insisted it was too dangerous, that MVP has a spy in place and would love nothing more than to use news of an investigation to fire up a public scandal.”
“We could hire an independent detective agency. See what we can dig up.”
“With what?”
“The money you gave me.”
The air slipped from her in a long sigh.
“I don’t care what you say, Kayla. I haven’t earned it and I don’t like the idea of taking a handout.” Another thought hit him. “While we’re at it, we might as well hunt for your thief.”
“What?”
“You said he was a banker, right? What was his name?”
“Geoffrey Rambling.”
“Right. Was his bank British?”
“I already thought of that. The bank has never heard of him. It was just another lie. One of a billion.”
“This bank where he supposedly worked, where does it operate?”
“In the City. The financial district of London.”
“They say the most successful lies are those that parallel the truth. So we ask the same PI to see if Rambling worked some-where near that bank. Do you have a photograph?”
“I burned them all.”
“And the name he gave you is probably bogus.” He read her expression as serious incredulity. “Well, maybe it wasn’t such a good idea after all.”
Kayla reached one hand up and around the back of his neck. Pulled him down. And kissed him on the cheek. Soft, almost sisterly, a fragile touch, there and gone in an instant.
But a kiss just the same.
Adam breathed an astonished, “Wow.”
“That was a mistake.”
“Not from where I’m standing.”
“You don’t know me, you have no ties to us or our problems, and here you are, doing your best to help.”
“It’s not much.” His heart was racing now, trying to deal with the aftershock. “Kayla, let me invest the money your father gave you for your project.”
She headed back inside. “I need to talk this over with Daddy.”
“Don’t take too long. Every day counts in this business.”
“Believe me, Adam, I know that all too well.”
chapter 10
That evening, Professor Beachley’s entire household came out to see them off. Two of the lodgers, both older than Adam, complained that the professor should have asked them if she had wanted to go.
“I did not ask Adam,” she replied, using her walker to make it down the front lane. “I merely accepted his invitation.”
Mrs. Brandt placed the wheelchair in the taxi’s trunk, then watched approvingly as Adam helped the old lady settle into the rear seat. She took the walker from Adam and said, “She’s right, you know. You were a dear to ask her.”
The town center was packed with students rushing to ser-vices. Their robes flapped behind them like broken wings. When they pulled up in front of Christ Church, Adam paid the taxi and settled her into th
e wheelchair. He maneuvered the chair beneath the towering college gates, doing his best to keep the chair steady as it jounced over uneven flagstones. As they passed through the broad college portal, a man in a dark suit and odd bowler hat emerged from the porter’s lodge, his weathered face creased in smiles. “Professor Beachley, as I live and breathe.”
“So nice to see you again, Lester. How is the wife?”
“Growing old before her years, Professor. Wishing she could serve up this latest crop of students in a stew.”
“No doubt the two of you will have them trained in time.” She reached back to pat Adam’s hand upon the handle. “This is one of my lodgers, Adam Wright.”
The porter touched one chapped hand to the rim of his hat. “Sir.”
“Adam works for Peter Austin’s firm. You remember his late wife, Amanda.”
“Like it was yesterday. Many was the time I chased her daughter off the main fountain.”
“Do give your wife my best. Come along, Adam. We mustn’t be late.”
The main quadrangle was impossibly large, ringed in ancient stone buildings as ornate as a square crown. The early December dusk transformed the central fountain into a play of water and shadows. The wheelchair squeaked softly as they entered a quieter realm, one entirely removed from the city beyond the gates. Dr. Beachley sighed, “Isn’t it wonderful?”