The Forgotten Sea

by Beverley Harper

From Le Morne, they followed the road north. ‘You will wish to see the coloured earths,’ Mr Herro said.

  ‘Silly not to,’ Holly replied. Mr Herro was a gem.

  They stopped at a small area of volcanic deposits where the sand seemed to twist together to form patterns in shades of red, blue, purple, grey and yellow. Hawkers tried to sell Holly a small glass bottle of mixed sand, the main thrust of their selling pitch was that you could shake the bottle as hard as you liked but the sand would always settle out again in different colours. At Cascade Chamarel, a twin waterfall dropped down into the Riviere du Cap. Mr Herro again had all the facts. ‘Ninety-three metres,’ he said. ‘The river flows from here to the sea.’

  ‘Lunch,’ Holly declared, as they reached the town of Tamarin. ‘My treat.’

  Mr Herro wagged his head.

  ‘Where’s the best place?’ she asked.

  ‘Do you like fish?’

  ‘Love it.’

  Their meal was just beautiful, freshly caught and cooked to perfection. Mr Herro declined wine but accepted a beer. ‘We will visit the Tamarin Falls,’ he declared as they set off again.

  They drove through sugar estates along a gravel road. Once again, Holly was grateful to have such a good guide. She’d never have found the place on her own. Mr Herro parked the car, explaining that they would have to walk the remaining distance. On the ground, Holly noticed what appeared to be pools of blood.

  ‘It is the flower of the nourouk tree,’ she was told. Holly had never heard of such a plant but saw that their branches were laden with pea-shaped scarlet flowers. She had seen similar trees in Bali, where the locals called it the coral tree.

  Quite suddenly, they came to the falls. Overhung and hidden amid lush vegetation, the volume of water was nothing more than a trickle.

  ‘The hydro-electric scheme has destroyed this river,’ Mr Herro explained. ‘People do not come here any more. Sometimes the estate managers turn tourists away.’ He was encouraged by her interest. ‘See where the water first drops? That is called the window.’ He pointed further down. ‘Look carefully. There are seven steps to this waterfall.’

  But Holly’s attention was not on his words. Her scalp was tingling. William Maguire’s map, it had been assumed, was of a portion of coastline. He’d indicated a scallop-shaped cliff descending down through various levels, at the bottom of which were several wavy lines denoting water. What if his drawing was of something inland? Like this waterfall. The escarpment called the window was, as far as she could remember, identical in shape to that shown on the map. And there were the levels – a series of steps. Jesus! She’d found the site of the treasure. Down there somewhere, in all that thick green stuff, William’s treasure had lain buried for 250 years. She had to let Connor know.

  ‘That’s enough for one day, Mr Herro. You’ve been more than helpful.’

  Mr Herro beamed and pulled a card from his wallet. ‘If you need driver some more, maybe I can make cheap price.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll let you know.’ She looked at the card. The man was quite an entrepreneur. As well as driving a taxi he appeared to own a shop called Just Shirts and, if the card could be believed, also rented out accommodation. Holly asked him about that.

  ‘I own the building,’ he explained. ‘There are two, one-bedroom flats on the first floor and a small studio above them.’

  She found herself wishing him every success. He deserved it.

  On the way north, Mr Herro wanted to show her the Casela Bird Park near Bambous, the World Spiritual University in Vacoas and a Hindu temple in Port Louis. He seemed so keen that Holly curbed her impatience to speak to Connor, finally arriving back at her hotel a little after five in the afternoon.

  There were two messages waiting. Guy Dulac would meet her in the bar at eight that evening. Would he, hell! And Madame Liang Song would ring back later.

  From her room, Holly got through to the Cotton Bay Hotel, asked for Connor and was not particularly surprised when there was no answer. She left a message for him to return the call. Looking up the telephone number of the police station in Port Louis, Holly dialled it and asked to speak to a policeman by the name of Sham.

  ‘Detective Sham?’

  ‘If that’s what he is.’

  ‘May I ask who’s calling?’

  ‘Holly Jones.’

  ‘A moment please.’

  Several clicks and a few seconds later, ‘Sham.’

  ‘Hi, this is Holly Jones.’

  ‘How can I help you?’ He sounded surprised to hear from her.

  ‘Guy Dulac left a message at the hotel. He wants to meet me at eight this evening. I thought you’d like to know.’

  ‘Do you intend to keep the appointment?’

  ‘No. Though I don’t quite know how I can avoid him.’

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be there and make sure he sees me.’

  ‘Thank you. Are you sure that’s okay? I mean, do you feel up to it?’

  ‘All part of the service, Mademoiselle. I’ll see you later.’

  Right! she thought, replacing the receiver. That takes care of the little boy.

  Holly had just lathered her head with shampoo when the telephone rang. ‘Bugger!’ She dripped a soapy trail across the bedroom. ‘Holly Jones.’

  ‘This is Liang Song. Where is Connor Maguire?’ No messing around with this female.

  ‘Rodrigues.’

  ‘Ah! Thank you.’ Without another word, the connection was broken.

  ‘Rude bitch!’ Leaving the receiver off its cradle, Holly finished her shower. She had just replaced it when another call came in. Expecting it to be Connor, she eagerly answered. ‘Holly Jones.’

  ‘It’s me.’ It was Guy Dulac.

  The last person in the world I need! ‘Got your message. Thank you, but no.’

  ‘About last night, I can explain –’

  She cut him off. ‘I doubt it. Anyway, last night has nothing to do with it. It’s no, always has been, always will be. Now, if you’ll excuse me –’

  ‘I can’t stop thinking about you.’

  ‘That’s your problem. I would appreciate it if you’d stop bothering me.’

  An edge crept into his voice. ‘If I decide to bother you, you’ll know about it. All I want is to buy you dinner.’

  She’d had him in chunks. ‘I don’t fraternise with hooligans, Mr Dulac.’ Her voice was steely. ‘Frankly, you disgust me.’

  Dulac lost it. ‘That cretin got what was a long time coming. You don’t know the half of it –’

  ‘Nor do I wish to. This is a complete waste of time – yours and mine. Goodbye.’

  ‘Wait.’ His voice was urgent. ‘Don’t hang up. I . . . I’ve got some information . . . about the treasure. You’ll find it interesting.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’ He was lying, she was sure of it.

  Guy Dulac was an immature spoilt brat who did not know how to handle being turned down. ‘Listen, Miss High-and-Mighty, you’re no prize. Just who the hell do you think you are?’

  ‘I could ask you the same question,’ Holly countered. ‘Please don’t contact me again.’ She banged down the receiver.

  The call had unnerved her. Guy Dulac was obviously unstable. Coupled with a quick temper, a capacity for violence and Detective Sham’s warning, Holly felt vulnerable. She had no idea why Sham wanted to keep track of Guy, but it had to be serious if he was prepared to waive the attack last night in order to pursue some other crime the boy may have committed.

  It was almost six o’clock. Would Dulac still turn up? She wouldn’t put it past him. Perhaps an early dinner was called for. That way she could be back in her room by seven thirty, at the latest. It irked her intensely that a twenty-year-old boy’s unwelcome attentions were ruling her life.

  Should she let Sham know? Probably not. If Guy Dulac did put in an appearance at eight it would be nice to know the police were there. Fifteen minutes later, Holly was pleased she hadn’t contacted the detective. Guy strolled through the restaura
nt, his eyes searching until he found her.

  ‘I thought you might do something like this.’ He sounded angry, as if she’d somehow betrayed him.

  ‘Like what?’ Holly shook her head when he went to pull out a chair. ‘Don’t bother. I’ve already said that I won’t be having dinner with you.’

  He went ahead anyway, sat down and leaned over the table on his elbows, shoulders hunched. ‘Do you make all men work this hard?’

  Holly experienced a sudden surge of anger. What exactly did it take to get this arrogant child off her back? What he was doing amounted to stalking. Sexual harassment. In a deceptively soft voice, Holly allowed resentment to rule her commonsense. ‘Men? No.’ Her eyes flicked over him. ‘Boys? Now that’s different.’ Oh you bloody fool! As soon as the words were out she realised her mistake.

  The barb hit home. Guy Dulac’s eyes narrowed and he breathed in heavily. ‘You’ll be sorry you said that.’ He rose and looked down at Holly. ‘Very sorry.’ Turning, he strode away, but only as far as the bar, where he swung onto a high stool and sat staring at her.

  Holly could not believe her own stupidity. With his influence he could easily get the number of her room and quite probably a pass key as well. A quick bribe would do it. Then what? Wait in a shadowy alcove? There were enough of them. Get there before her and hide? Hang around until she had to be asleep and then . . .’ She checked her watch. Only six twenty. Sham was at least an hour and a half away.

  Feigning an indifference she was far from feeling, Holly ordered a glass of wine. Thinking quickly, her mind raced over possible ways out of the situation she’d placed herself in. She could check out of the hotel in the morning and find another. That wouldn’t do any good. Guy Dulac had found her at this one easily enough. Perhaps an apartment, or a room with a family as Connor had done. Mr Herro might be able to help there. One of his flats could be empty. Or would she be safer where she was, surrounded by people?

  Although her thoughts were in chaos, outwardly Holly remained calm, ordering a meal, chatting to the waiter and generally behaving as though she didn’t have a care in the world. Without looking directly at Guy Dulac she could sense his obsessive stare. She heard him demanding scotch after scotch. With a bit of luck the bloody boy would drink himself to oblivion.

  Twenty minutes before eight, Dulac abruptly rose from the bar stool and made his way unsteadily towards reception. Holly briefly considered making a bolt for her room, but discarded the idea in case he was waiting for her. She sat back, hoping like hell that Sham would show up.

  He did, God bless him. Not only did he show up, he had a uniformed police officer with him. Guy Dulac had not reappeared and Holly, who had found his morose vigil at the bar unnerving, was even more concerned now that she couldn’t see him.

  Sham came straight to her table. ‘Is he here?’

  ‘He was. Left the bar about twenty minutes ago full of whisky.’

  Sham looked concerned. ‘Was anyone with him?’

  ‘No.’

  The detective indicated her empty plate. ‘Have you finished? I’ll walk you to your room.’

  Holly nearly kissed him.

  For the second time since her arrival at the Merville Beach Hotel, her room was completely checked out. She couldn’t help but think that for the peaceful island Mauritius proclaimed to be, and generally was, it had to be her misfortune to need such protective service twice.

  Problems slept on can sometimes solve themselves. In the morning, Holly had a plan. For as long as she was in Mauritius she’d stay at the Merville. There were two good reasons for this. Safety in numbers being one, the other that Connor expected her to either be here or on Réunion. His continued silence was of concern but she assumed he’d be in touch when he could.

  Today was Saturday. A week to kill before flying home. She called the Air Mauritius office, booked herself onto the following week’s flight to Australia and enquired about schedules to Réunion. For as long as she stayed in tourist areas, Guy Dulac couldn’t touch her. With luck, he’d get sick of trying.

  Putting him out of her mind, Holly spent most of the morning working on her travel piece. At around eleven, the telephone rang. It was Justin Parker. ‘Please don’t hang up, I must talk to you.’

  Surprising herself, Holly found she was quite pleased to hear from him. Despite his dramatic actions on Rodrigues, chances were he was relatively harmless. ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Back at the Merville. I arrived last night.’

  ‘Go on.’

  He became flustered. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You said you wanted to talk.’

  ‘Oh . . . yes. To apologise really. Look, can you meet me at the poolside patio?’

  She agreed to see him at twelve.

  In retrospect, Holly wondered if she was doing the right thing. Connor had said to stay away from him. ‘Go with your instincts,’ she told herself. Even if he had abducted her in Rodrigues, his company was a hell of a lot preferable to that of Guy Dulac’s.

  Justin rose to his feet with a tentative smile as she joined him at the table. She noticed that the marks of the attack on the beach had all but disappeared. A slight discolouration under one eye was all that remained. He looked strained and nervous. He jumped straight in and got what was obviously bothering him off his chest. ‘I apologise for what I did. It was very stupid. I don’t know what came over me.’

  ‘Greed?’ Holly’s tone was matter-of-fact. Her instincts told her she could trust him but that didn’t mean she was going to make it easy.

  Justin took no offence. ‘Probably.’ Long, sensitive fingers brushed hair back from his forehead. ‘I’m giving up on this. I don’t trust Raoul Dulac. You were right, I’m no match for him.’ He leaned towards her confidentially. ‘You were wrong about one thing, though. I really am looking for dodo remains. It’s a project very close to my heart.’ Sitting back, he added, ‘You can do the interview if you like.’

  Holly realised he was attempting to make up for his treatment of her. She tapped a fingernail on the table, trying to make up her mind whether or not he was telling her the truth. ‘It’s practically written actually. A few personal details wouldn’t go astray though, what drives you, that sort of thing.’ She decided to test him. ‘What were you talking to Liang Song about the other day?’

  Justin’s eyes stayed on hers. ‘Raoul didn’t want to be seen with me. When he bumped into Maguire he put two and two together and came to the conclusion that your friend was also looking for William’s treasure. It worried him to say the least. He sent a message through Madame Liang to meet with him. That was all.’

  ‘Where?’

  Justin appeared confused. ‘Where what?’

  ‘Where were you to meet him?’

  ‘Cap Malheureux. Behind the fishermen’s co-op.’

  ‘Connor and I saw Raoul up there one night last week. He met someone on the beach, then let himself into the building. Was that you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘We assumed that the other person gave him a key. How did you get hold of one?’

  ‘That wasn’t me. Someone else was there as well. An employee. He had the key.’

  That made sense. There had been two cigarettes in the darkness and Justin didn’t smoke.

  ‘Why did Raoul need to get inside?’

  Justin shrugged, his eyes embarrassed. ‘I have no idea. All I can say for sure is that he appeared well satisfied when he came out. He told us to wait for him on the beach. He was only gone a matter of minutes and then returned the key. The other man said nothing and simply disappeared. That was when Raoul warned me about Connor Maguire, told me to be careful what I said to anybody, then left. Why he couldn’t do that over the telephone is anyone’s guess. He even made me wait in the dark until I had heard his car leave. He seems obsessed by a need for secrecy. I’d taken a taxi to Cap Malheureux. I had to walk back, but that didn’t bother Raoul.’

  Holly knew it was the truth. ‘Does Raoul have any idea that you’ve give
n up on the treasure?’

  ‘No.’ Justin looked miserable. ‘I don’t know how to tell him. He won’t be pleased.’

  ‘I’m bloody sure he won’t. Right now, all he’s got to do is sit back and let you do the work. Very convenient.’

  ‘At first I didn’t mind being used. We’re partners and he has so many other interests. Raoul’s very persuasive but I don’t think Anne-Marie thought things through too carefully. Her intention was to annoy him but she has no idea . . .’ Justin lowered his voice and went on. ‘There’s a lot more to Raoul than most people realise. He’s into all sorts of projects and hates it when people know too much about him. He can become quite beside himself if he doesn’t get his way. On the trip back from Rodrigues he revealed a side of himself I’d never seen.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Raoul keeps all kinds of documents in a locker on the boat. I came into the cabin while he had one out on the table. He went ballistic – accused me of spying on him, threatened to throw me overboard, then made me swear on my mother’s life that I’d tell no-one. Eventually he calmed down and told me it was a confidential business plan. I said nothing but I knew it was a lie.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I saw the front of the file. It was from the Central African Republic’s Ministry of Defence and stamped Top Secret. Someone had written “Scylla Only” in one corner. At least, I think that’s what it said. Raoul tried to cover it with his hand as soon as he knew I was there.’ Justin shook his head. ‘I have no idea what it means or why I wasn’t supposed to see it.’

  Oh, but Holly did! Several pieces of the Connor Maguire puzzle had just slammed into place. Which made his disappearance just a little more sinister.

  THIRTEEN

  Scylla was suddenly much more than simply a carrot dangled in front of Quinn to whet his curiosity. It tied in with her suspicion that Connor had yet another reason for being on Mauritius. Raoul Dulac had a Scylla file on board his boat. Was this the real reason for Connor’s interest in the French-Mauritian? And if so, why? Did it slot in with the treasure search and whatever was going on with Madame Liang Song? She was sure of one thing. The common denominator running through the whole web of deceit, intrigue and double-dealing was Connor Maguire.