Wondering what the hell was wrong with her, Holly finally composed herself. ‘It wasn’t that funny,’ she admitted. ‘I just had this mental picture of an unseen spirit leading a nun by the nose up a rocky hillside.’ She glanced at Conner. ‘Sorry,’ she added lamely, ‘I won’t make a habit of it.’
Then Connor burst out laughing. ‘That’s a very dirty laugh you have there. You should do it more often.’
If only you knew how seldom I laugh. It crossed her mind then how good it felt. ‘I interrupted. Please go on.’
‘You don’t like personal observations much, do you?’
Holly had spent some considerable time erecting a defensive barrier around herself. Many had tried to break it down but no-one had come close. Now here was this man, one she was not even certain she could trust, quite effortlessly standing on the inside. She had no idea how he’d got there. Whatever, however, it was unnerving. Even her much practised defensive responses, those that always provided a quick and cutting rejection, were letting her down. ‘Ah . . . well.’ Great stuff, Jones! You’ve just won first prize in the tongue glued to roof of mouth competition. Where’s your bloody brain gone?
Possibly fearing a mental, if not physical, embolism, the accused bloody brain finally shook off its paralysis and kick-started. It was not a moment too soon as far as Holly was concerned. ‘Actually, I don’t mind them at all. I just don’t like answering them.’ Well! It wasn’t top-of-the-class material but it was better than nothing.
Connor’s eyes glowed, reflecting an elusive combination of understanding and regret. He continued. ‘Kathleen was where a garden must once have been. It’s completely overgrown now but you can still see evidence of it. Trees, shrubs gone wild, that sort of thing. No sense of order, nothing to say how it used to look. She found a well. Said she walked straight up to it, knowing it would be there. She showed it to me. You can’t see it until you’re right on top of it.’
‘And the map was there?’
‘Wrapped in oilskin and lodged behind a stone in the wall. Kathleen said it was waiting for her. With the map was a short letter written by Aroon. Kathleen compared the handwriting with the diary. Though at some stage I would like to check it for myself against Aroon’s note in the journal.’
‘Have you got the letter with you?’
‘No. The paper is very thin and I didn’t want to risk damaging it.’
‘What did it say?’
‘I copied it down. Here.’ Connor passed a sheet of paper across the table. Holly read:
I have done as William Maguire seemed to desire and sent his journal back to Ireland. It is entrusted to Father Lynch for safe delivery, but these being troubled times and William’s sister dead for so long, I have taken the precaution of removing the map lest the information fall into the wrong hands. I pray to God I do the right thing.
‘She sounds worried about it.’
‘A simple but anxious woman is how Kathleen put it.’ Connor leaned forward. ‘Do you remember what William wrote in the back of his journal?’
‘About the curse? Come on, Maguire. Back then Catholics called on the wrath of God whenever it suited them. Didn’t mean anything would happen.’
He sat back, folding his arms. ‘There’s not a shred of Irish in you, is there?’
Holly didn’t get his drift and responded with an elegant, ‘Huh!’
He shook his head slightly. ‘Kathleen can sense something about the map. A warning of some kind.’
‘Don’t tell me you believe that shit?’
His eyes reproached her.
‘Well,’ she shrugged, defending herself. ‘It’s a bit far-fetched, wouldn’t you say?’
‘Not so much that Kathleen wouldn’t touch the treasure with a barge pole. She wants nothing to do with it or the map.’
‘But doesn’t mind you running the risk?’ Holly rolled her eyes. ‘Now that’s what I call a truly religious person.’
‘There’s not much point in telling you the punchline.’
‘Try me.’
‘She put it strangely, but she believes William’s treasure will be found.’
‘If she’s so clairvoyant, how come she doesn’t know exactly where it is?’
‘She says it’s not her destiny.’
‘What did she say about finding it?’
‘It will reveal itself.’
The look on Connor’s face killed any glib response. He was excited. He was serious. Above all, he was ready to accept the challenge. Holly understood, for the first time, what it was that drove Connor Maguire. He was clever, astute, probably quite brave and adventurous – all those things rolled into one. But touching each and every aspect of his character was a simple boyish enthusiasm, a sort of Peter Pan belief in Tinkerbell. And he was asking her to believe with him.
Holly swallowed hard. It was impossible. She had always been a realist. Now she was touched by cynicism. ‘I . . .’
He reached over and took her hands in his. ‘Don’t think, Holly. Feel. Your brain may have been conditioned, your heart hasn’t. Trust what you feel, not what your mind tells you.’
She truly wanted to. To fly with the dream, to experience that long-forgotten freedom of childlike optimism. Holly slid her hands from under his warm fingers. Hopeless! How could she? The child no longer existed. ‘Oh grow up, Maguire.’ She was cross with him for tempting her, cross with herself for being tempted.
Connor sighed in disappointment. ‘For a moment . . .’ He left it hanging between them.
She regretted the outburst but it was too late to take it back. Holly had the absurd feeling that she’d just broken the news to a five year old that there was no such thing as the tooth fairy.
The moment passed. ‘I’m meeting Kathleen tomorrow, eleven o’clock at William’s. Why don’t you come with me? I’ll pick you up at nine. We could take the coast road. You’d love it.’
‘Sounds good to me.’ Relieved to have the conversation back to practicalities, Holly sat back, lacing her fingers around the beer glass in front of her. ‘I’ll wait for you outside reception.’
Connor glanced down at her hands. ‘Here I go again.’ He grinned at her. ‘Sticking my neck out. Your father said you were married, yet you wear no ring. I’m not being personal, just curious. Are you married?’
‘I was.’ Holly answered tersely.
His dark eyes were unreadable. ‘Don’t want to talk about it?’
‘No.’
‘Fair enough. But it does explain a few things about you.’
‘Maguire,’ Holly said evenly. ‘You’ve done everything possible to make this one of the most difficult assignments I’ve ever undertaken. When do you stop?’
‘Difficult?’ He seemed genuinely surprised.
She nodded. ‘Reluctance, hidden agenda, disappearing act, turning every question I ask into one of your own, and now you seem hell-bent on poking your nose into my private space.’ Even as she spoke Holly knew her last point was likely to backfire. It did.
‘You can talk!’
‘I’m the reporter, remember?’ Flimsy, Jones. Think of something else. ‘What about the map? Does it show where William hid his ill-gotten gains?’
‘Not specifically.’ Connor didn’t seem unduly perturbed by the switched topic.
‘Does it help at all? I only glanced at it before.’
‘He’s drawn an outline of the coast. Indicated a mountain and given a set of directions.’
‘Fifty paces north, twenty east?’
‘That kind of thing.’
‘Then it should be easy.’
‘Not really. There are no longitude, latitude or orientation references anywhere. I’ve compared it with a map of Mauritius. It doesn’t tally.’
‘Rodrigues?’
‘There’s one place that is kind of similar, give or take a fair chunk of artistic licence.’
‘How about one of the smaller, uninhabited islands?’
‘Nothing. Following William’s specific instructions will
be the easy part once we’ve located the general area.’
‘Know what I think, Maguire?’
He raised his eyebrows.
‘I think you’ll be writing that cheque.’
‘Oh ye of little faith,’ he said lightly.
Holly shifted position and the movement caused her to wince.
‘What’s wrong?’
She hesitated. Connor would hardly have invited her to meet Kathleen if he hadn’t acquired the map exactly as he had said. Which left Justin Parker’s explanation questionable. She had to trust one of them. Holly made her decision.
‘Last night, one of the hotel guests and I went for a walk along the beach. We were attacked. My ribs are bloody sore.’
‘Holly! Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘That’s not all. We made it back to the hotel only to find that someone had broken into his room and systematically trashed the place. It wasn’t random theft, someone was looking for something. His room had been thoroughly done over.’ She was watching for guilt. She could see only concern.
‘This afternoon we went for a swim. I came out of the water first and when I picked up my towel I dislodged something from his shirt pocket. I didn’t get a good look at it but I’m fairly certain it was a copy of your map.’
Connor was frowning. ‘Who is this person?’
‘His name is Justin Parker. He’s English, a biologist, or so he says. Claims to be part of a research project trying to find dodo remains for an experiment with DNA twinning. Funny thing is, he didn’t seem aware that, on Rodrigues, the dodo was called a solitaire. Even more interesting is that he seems to know Madame Liang. When I asked if anything had been taken from his room he told me that nothing seemed to be missing although a map of possible dodo nesting sites had either been stolen or lost during the attack. Said it didn’t matter though, as he had a copy of it.’ Holly took a deep breath. ‘Now my dilemma is this, Maguire. Which one of you is lying?’
He was nodding. ‘I see. Fag time.’ Connor lit a cigarette and tapped the lighter on the table, turning it end over end. His eyes hadn’t left hers. ‘Not me,’ he stated finally.
‘I rather thought you’d say that.’ Holly found she believed him. ‘But you don’t sound too surprised that someone else might have a copy of that map.’
‘It might not be the same one.’
‘I’ll lay odds to even it is.’
‘If that’s so, then yes, I’m surprised. It might be interesting to check up on this Justin Parker. It would explain something Kathleen said today as well.’
‘What was that?’
‘I know you doubt her ability to sense things, but she also told me that she can feel the thoughts of one, if not two others, focused on the map. I thought it had to be you.’
‘My thoughts are focused on you, Maguire, not the map.’ She was glad of the subdued lighting because when he grinned and those dimples appeared she realised what she’d said and couldn’t prevent a sudden rush of colour to her face.
Connor watched the drifting cigarette smoke, aware of her sudden embarrassment. ‘Did you see a doctor?’
It took Holly a moment to register what he was talking about. ‘One was called to the hotel last night. I’m fine. Nothing seems broken. I’m just a little sore.’
‘Even so.’ He caught the waiter’s attention and made a scribbling motion to request the bill. ‘I’m sure an early night wouldn’t go astray.’
As they left the restaurant, a voice called out in greeting. Turning, Holly saw the French-Mauritian, Raoul Dulac, striding towards them. ‘What a pleasant coincidence. I was just thinking about you both.’
The two men shook hands then Raoul advanced on Holly and kissed her three times on alternate cheeks. ‘You have told him of my invitation, yes?’
‘Yes.’ Connor replied for her. ‘Thank you.’
‘Come early. We can have a look over the farm.’ Raoul appeared to be in a hurry, glancing at an enormous diving watch on his wrist. ‘Forgive me. I must not keep you. See you both on Sunday.’
Connor made no move towards his car, but stared thoughtfully after the retreating figure of Raoul Dulac. It was only when the Mauritian melted into the darkness that Connor said curtly, ‘Let’s go.’
They crossed the road quickly. Connor had parked in an open area between a small, red-roofed church and a building identified by the words Mauritius Fishermen’s Co-op. Beyond it was the beach where Raoul had disappeared. Leafy branches of a large fig tree screened the car from illumination by a nearby streetlight. Holly followed Connor’s intense stare to where Raoul had vanished and saw the flare of a lighter ignite a cigarette, move a short distance and light another.
‘He’s met someone,’ Connor observed softly.
‘It might not be him.’
‘It’s him.’
Holly glanced at Connor’s silhouette. It was too dark in the car to see his expression but there was a tense set to his shoulders. The faint glow of a cigarette was moving towards them. ‘He’s coming back,’ Connor hissed, sounding surprised. With a whispered, ‘Sorry for this,’ he leaned over and kissed her, his arms going around her as he slid closer, one hand snaking up to press her head firmly towards him. She realised he was putting on an act in case Raoul – and she had to assume it was Raoul coming towards the car – recognised them and wondered why they were just sitting there. Holly lifted her hands, placed one on either side of Connor’s face, and played her part. As she did, it crossed her mind that she should have been furious.
Whoever it was turned towards the darkened co-op. Connor relaxed and moved back from Holly. She thought fleetingly, almost hysterically, that, as kisses went, this one was about as passionate as a slap in the face with a wet noodle. The main thing was that it looked real. As well as being surprised that an angry, or, at the very least, sarcastic response to Connor’s cavalier actions seemed to be eluding her, Holly was aware of something else. He had acted swiftly and instinctively but, for all that, he’d still had a cool enough head to remember her ribs. They hadn’t hurt a bit.
It had been Raoul. As they watched he approached a side door to the co-op, unlocked it and stepped inside. They waited in silence. It wasn’t long before he reappeared.
Connor whispered, ‘Whoever Raoul met on the beach gave him a key. Now he’s got to return it.’
Here we go again, Holly thought, as Connor’s arms folded around her. Prepared this time, she strived to keep her lips as motionless as possible. It was harder than she expected.
‘He must come back to reach his car,’ Connor warned.
It wasn’t until Raoul had passed them a third time that Holly wondered why Connor hadn’t driven off while Raoul was on the beach returning the key.
Silence was loud in the car. Holly broke it. ‘Are you going to make me ask?’
She heard him sigh. ‘He’s not exactly what he seems.’ The seat creaked as Connor moved. ‘That’s all I can say.’
Holly assumed they were heading back to the Merville but Connor drove past the entrance and on through Grand Baie itself, turning off several kilometres later to follow a secondary road which ran around the bay. Stopping on a grassy promontory, he cut the engine and killed the lights. Looking out across the dark expanse of water, Connor wound down his window and waited. ‘See the Royal Palm over there?’
She looked. The luxury hotel occupied its own small cove. Two brilliant security lights skewered the periphery.
‘Take a direct line from the hotel towards us. About a third of the way across is where I’m looking.’
‘It’s pitch black.’
‘Be patient. Keep looking.’
The strain of staring at black nothingness made Holly’s eyes water.
‘There,’ Connor said suddenly.
She’d have missed it. A tiny light where before there was nothing.
‘Has to be him,’ Connor muttered. Five minutes later the light began to move.
‘Where would a boat be going at this hour?’
‘That,’ Connor said with feeling, ‘is something I’d very much like to know.’
They watched until they could no longer see the light. It was heading towards the mouth of the bay and a gap in the reef to open sea beyond.
Instead of starting the car, Connor turned to Holly. ‘Back there. I’m sorry.’
‘It’s okay,’ she said lightly. ‘I could see why it was necessary.’ She stared straight ahead. ‘At least I know why you suggested dinner at Cap Malheureux?’
‘Look, seeing Dulac was a complete coincidence. I’d have preferred it if you hadn’t been there.’ There was silence for a moment and then he gave a rueful chuckle. ‘Well done, Maguire. That’s probably the diplomatic comment of the decade!’
Holly laughed. ‘You’re forgiven. Can we go now?’ She wanted to be on her own.
They drove to the Merville without speaking. Once there, all he said was, ‘See you at nine. Bring the journal with you, Kathleen would like to see it.’
Holly climbed out of the car, leaned down and spoke through the open door. ‘Okay. Thanks for dinner. Sleep tight.’
Alone in her room, she poured a neat scotch then curled into a single armchair and stared into space.
Connor Maguire. She believed him when he said that Kathleen gave him the map. He’d shown her two sides of himself tonight, facets she hadn’t suspected were there. A boyish enthusiasm for that which most people would dismiss. And levelheaded consideration when instant action was required. And here’s me thinking he was a work hard, play hard, but otherwise vacant post! Just goes to show how wrong you can be. Several times she’d found him on the inside of her defences. He’s sensitive to that too.
What about his downside? The drugs thing was a worry. Was Connor Maguire a legitimate businessman? Or a person embroiled in something he regarded as just another adventure? Or worse? Was he lying? Could it be that he had a direct involvement in drug-trafficking? He’d said that Raoul Dulac was a business acquaintance. Was the Mauritian also connected to the drug thing? And then there was Madame Liang.
The Forgotten Sea Page 16