by Wilbur Smith
exclamation of disgust. Instead, he lit another cheroot and leaned
forward again, staring into Duncan Alexander's steely grey eyes, trying
to fathom him, needling, probing for the soft rotten spot - and thinking
hard.
What had Duncan Alexander to gain from not settling now? Why did he not
try with a low, but realistic offer what was he to gain?
Then quite suddenly he knew what it was. Chantelle's enigmatic appeal
for help and advice flashed back to him, and he knew what it was. Duncan
Alexander wanted time.
It was as simple as that. Duncan Alexander needed time.
All right. Satisfied at last, Nicholas leaned back in the deep
leather-padded chair, and veiled his eyes. We are still a hundred miles
apart. There will be only one meeting ground. That's in the upper room
at Lloyd's. It's set down for the 27th. A-re we at least agreed on
that date? Of course, Duncan leaned back also and Nicholas saw the
shift of his eyes, the little jump of nerves in the point of his
clenched jaws, the tightening of the long pianist's fingers that lay
before him on the leather-bound blotter.
Of course/ Duncan repeated, and began to stand up, a gesture of
dismissal. He lied beautifully; had Nicholas not known he would lie, he
might have missed the little telltale signs.
In the ancient lift, James Teacher was jubilant, rubbing his little fat
hands together. We'll give him a go! Nicholas glanced at him sourly.
Win, lose or draw, James Teacher would still draw his fee, and Duncan
Alexander's refusal to settle had quadrupled that fee. There was
something almost obscene about the little lawyer's exultation.
They are going to duck/ Nick said grimly, and James Teacher sobered
slightly.
Before noon tomorrow, Christy Marine will have lodged for postponement
of hearing, Nick prophesied. You'll have to use Warlock with full power
on both to pull them before the arbitration board. 'Yes, you're
right/James Teacher nodded. They had me puzzled, I sensed something -
I'm not paying you to be puzzled/Nick's voice was low and hard. I'm
paying you to out-guess and out-jump them.
I want them at the hearing on the 27th, get them there, Mr. Teacher. He
did not have to voice the threat, and in a moment, the exultation on
James Teacher's rotund features had changed to apprehension and deep
concern.
The drawing-room in Eaton Square was decorated in cream and pale gold,
cleverly designed as a frame for the single exquisite work of art which
it contained, the original of the group of Degas ballet-dancers whose
copy hung in Golden Dawn's stateroom, It was the room's centre-piece;
cunningly lit by a hidden spotlight, it glowed like a precious jewel.
Even the flowers on the ivory grand piano were cream and white roses and
carnations, whose pale ethereal blossoms put the painting into stronger
contrast.
The only other flash of brightness was worn by Chantelle, she had the
oriental knack of carrying vivid colour without it seeming gaudy. She
wore a flaming Pucci that could not pale her beauty, and as she rose
from the huge shaggy white sofa and came to Nicholas, he felt the soft
warm melting sensation in his stomach spreading slowly through his body
like a draught of some powerful aphrodisiac. He knew he would never be
immune to her.
Dear Nicky, I knew I could rely upon you., She took his hand and looked
up at him, and still holding his hand she led him to the sofa, and then
she settled beside him, like a bright, lovely bird alighting. She drew
her legs up under her, her calves and ankles flashed like carved and
polished ivory before she tucked the brilliant skirt around them, and
lifted the Wedgwood porcelain teapot.
Orange pekoe/ she smiled at him, No lemon and no sugar. He had to smile
back at her. You never forget/ and he took the cup.
I told you that you looked well/ she said, slowly and unselfconsciously
studying him. And you really do, Nicholas. When you came down to
Lynwood for Peters birthday in June I was so worried about you. You
looked terribly ill and tired - but now, she tilted her head critically,
you look absolutely marvelous.
Now he should tell her that she was beautiful as ever, he thought
grimly, and then they would start talking about Peter and their old
mutual friends.
What did you want to talk to me about? he asked quietly, and there was
a passing shadow of hurt in her dark eyes.
Nicholas, you can be so remote, so - she hesitated, seeking the correct
word, so detached., Recently someone called me an ice-cold Pommy
bastard, the agreed, but she shook her head.
No. I know you are not, but if only The three most dangerous and
inflammatory phrases in the English language, he stopped her. 'They are
"you always" and "you never" and only". Chantelle, I came here to help
you with a problem. Let's discuss that - only. She stood up quickly,
and he knew her well enough to recognize the fury in the snapping dark
eyes and the quick dancing steps that carried her to the mantelpiece,
and she stood looking up at the Degas with her small fists clenched at
her sides.
Are you sleeping with that child? she asked, and now the fury was raw
in her voice.
Nicholas stood up from the sofa.
Goodbye, Chantelle. She turned and flew to him, taking his arm.
Oh, Nicholas, that was unforgivable, I don't know what possessed me.
Please don't go. And when he tried to dislodge her hand. I beg you,
for the first time ever, I beg you, Nicholas. Please don't go. He was
still stiff with anger when he sank back on the sofa, and they were
silent for nearly a minute while she regained her composure, This is all
going so terribly badly, I didn't want this to happen. All right, let's
get on to safer ground. Nicholas, she started, you and Daddy created
Christy Marine. If anything, it was more yours than his. The great
days were the last ten years when you were Chairman, all the tremendous
achievements of those years He made a gesture of denial and impatience,
but she went on softly.
Too much of your life is locked up in Christy Marine, you are still
deeply involved, Nicholas. There are only two things I am involved with
now/ he told her harshly, Ocean Salvage and Nicholas Berg. We both know
that is not true/ she whispered. You are a special type of man. She
sighed. It took me so long to recognize that. I thought all men were
like you. I believed strength and nobility of mind were common goods on
the market -'she shrugged. Some people learn the hard way, and she
smiled, but it was an uncertain, twisted little smile.
He said nothing for a moment, thinking of all that was revealed by those
words, then he replied.
If you believe that, then tell me what is worrying you. Nicholas,
something is terribly wrong with Christy Marine. There is something
happening there that I don't understand. Tell me. She turned her head
away for a moment, and then looked back at him. Her eyes seemed to
change shape and colour, growing darker and sadde
r. It is so difficult
not to be disloyal, so difficult to find expression for vague doubts and
fears/ she stopped and bit her lower lip softly. Nicholas, I have
transferred my shares Christy Marine to Duncan as my nominee, with
voting rights. Nicholas felt the shock of it Jump down his nerves and
string them tight. He shifted restlessly on the sofa and stared at her,
and she nodded.
I know it was madness. The madness of those crazy days a year ago. I
would have given him anything he asked for. He felt the premonition
that she had not yet told him all and he waited while she rose and went
to the window, looked out guiltily and then turned back to him.
May I get you a drink? He glanced at his Rolex. The sun over the
yard-arm, what about Duncan? These days he is never home before eight
or nine. She went to the decanter on the silver tray and poured the
whisky with her back to him, and now her voice was so low that he barely
caught the words.
A year ago I resigned as executrix of the Trust. He did not answer, it
was what he had been waiting for, he had known there was something else.
The Trust that old Arthur Christy had set up was the backbone and sinews
of Christy Marine. One million voting shares administered by three
executors, a banker, a lawyer and a member of the Christy family.
Chantelle turned and brought the drink to him.
Did you hear what I said? she asked, and he nodded and sipped the drink
before he asked, The other executors? Pickstone of Lloyd's and Rollo
still? She shook her head and again bit her lip, No, it's not Lloyd's
any more, it's Cyril Forbes. Who is he? Nick demanded.
He is the head of London and European. But that's Duncan's own bank,
Nick protested.
It's still a registered bank. And Rollo? Rollo had a heart attack six
months ago. He resigned, and Duncan put in another younger man. You
don't know him. My God, three men and each of them is Duncan Alexander
- he has had a free hand with Christy Marine for over a year, Chantelle,
there is no check on him. I know/ she whispered. 'It was a madness. I
just cannot explain it. It's the oldest madness in the world. Nick
pitied her then; for the first time , he realized and accepted that she
had been under a compulsion, driven by forces over which she had no
control, and he pitied her.
I am so afraid, Nicholas. I'm afraid to find out what I have done. Deep
down I know there is something terribly wrong, but I'm afraid of the
truth,, All right, tell me everything. There isn't anything else. If
you lie to me, I cannot help you/ he pointed out gently.
I have tried to follow the new structuring of the company, it's all so
complicated, Nicholas, London and European is the new holding company,
and - and - her voice trailed off. It just goes round and round in
circles, and I cannot pry too deep or ask too many questions., 'Why not?
he demanded.
You don't know Duncan. I am beginning to/ he answered her grimly. But,
Chantelle, you have every right to ask and get answers. Let me get you
another drink. She jumped up lightly.
I haven't finished this one. The ice has melted, I know you don't like
that. She took the glass and emptied the diluted spirit, refilled it
and brought it back to him.
All right/ he said. What else? Suddenly she was weeping. Smiling at
him wistfully and weeping. There was no sobbing or sniffing, the tears
merely welled up slowly as oil or blood from the huge dark eyes, broke
from the thick, arched lashes and rolled softly down her cheeks. Yet
she still smiled.
The madness is over, Nicholas. it didn't last very long but it was a
holocaust while it did. He comes home at nine o'clock now/Nicholas
said.
Yes, he comes home at nine o'clock. He took the linen handkerchief from
his inner pocket and handed it to her.
Thank you. She dabbed away the tears, still smiling softly.
What must I do, Nicholas? call in a team of auditors,, he began, but
she shook her head and cut him short You don't know Duncan , she
repeated.
There is nothing he could do. He could do anything, she contradicted
him. He is capable of anything. I am afraid, Nicholas, terribly
afraid, not only for myself, but for Peter also. Nicholas sat erect
then.
Peter. Do you mean you are afraid of something physical? I don't know,
Nicholas. I'm so confused and alone. You are the only person in the
world I can trust. He could no longer remain seated. He stood up and
began to pace about the room, frowning heavily, looking down at the
glass in his hand and swirling the ice so that it tinkled softly.
All right/ he said at last. I will do what I can. The first thing is
to find out just how much substance there is to your fears. How will you
do that? It's best you don't know, yet. He drained his glass and she
stood up, quick with alarm You aren't going, are you?/ 'There is nothing
else to discuss now. I will contact you when or if I learn anything.
I'll see you down. in the hall she dismissed the uniformed West Indian
maid with a shake of her head, and fetched Nicholas top coat from the
closet herself.
Shall I send for the car? You'll not get a cab at five o'clock. 'I'll
walk/he said.
Nicholas, I cannot tell you how grateful I am. I had forgotten how safe
and secure it is to be with you. Now she was standing very close to
him, her head lifted, and her lips were soft and glossy and ripe, her
eyes still flooded and bright. He knew he should leave immediately. I
know it's going to be all right now. She placed one of those dainty
ivory hands on his lapel, adjusting it unnecessarily with that
proprietary feminine gesture, and she moistened her lips.
We are all fools, Nicholas, every one of us. We all complicate our
lives - when it's so easy to be happy. The trick is to recognize
happiness when you stumble on it, I suppose. I'm sorry, Nicholas.
That's the first time I've ever apologized to you. It's a day of many
first times, isn't it? But I am truly sorry for everything I have ever
done to hurt you. I wish with all my heart that it were possible to
wipe it all out and begin again. Unfortunately, it doesn't work that
way. With a major effort of will he broke the spell, and stepped back.
In another moment he would have stooped to those soft red lips.
I'll call you if I learn anything/ he said, as he buttoned the top of
his coat and opened the front door.
Nicholas stepped out furiously with the cold striking colour into his
cheeks, but her presence kept pace with him and his blood raced not from
physical exertion alone.
He knew then, beyond all doubt, that he was not a man who could switch
love on and off at will.
You old-fashioned thing. Samantha's words came back to him clearly -
and she was right, of course. He was cursed by a constancy of loyalty
and emotion that restricted his freedom of action. He was breaking one
of his own rules now, he was no longer moving ahead. He was circling
back.
He had loved Chantelle
Christy to the limits of his soul, and had
devoted almost half of his life to Christy Marine.
He realized then that those things could never change, not for him, not
for Nicholas Berg, prisoner of his own conscience.
Suddenly he found himself opposite the Kensington Natural History Museum
in the Cromwell Road, and swiftly he crossed to the main gates - but it
was a quarter to six and they were closed already. Samantha would not
have been in the public rooms anyway, but in those labyrinthine vaults
below the great stone building. in a few short days, she had made half
a dozen cronies among the museum staff. He felt a stab of jealousy,
that she was with other human beings, revelling in their companionship,
delighting in the pleasures of the mind - had probably forgotten he
existed.
Then suddenly the unfairness of it occurred to him, how his emotions of
a minute previously had been stirring and boiling with the memories of
another woman. Only then did he realize that it was possible to be in
love with two different people, in two entirely different ways, at
exactly the same time.
Troubled, torn by conflicting loves, conflicting loyalties, he turned
away from the barred iron gates of the museum Nicholas apartment was on
the fifth floor of one of those renovated and redecorated buildings in
Queen's Gate.
it looked as though a party of gypsies were passing through. He had not
hung the paintings, nor had he arranged his books on the shelves. The
paintings were stacked against the wall in the hallway, and his books
were pyramided at unlikely spots around the lounge floor, the carpet
still rolled and pushed aside, two chairs facing the television set, and
another two drawn up to the dining-room table.
it was an eating and sleeping place, sustaining the bare minima of
existence; in two years he had probably slept here on sixty nights, few
of them consecutive. It was impersonal, it contained no memories, no
warmth.
He poured a whisky and carried it through into the bedroom , slipping
the knot of his tie and shrugging out of his jacket. Here it was
different, for evidence of Samantha's presence was everywhere. Though
she had remade the bed that morning before leaving, still she had left a
pair of shoes abandoned at the foot of it, a booby trap to break the
ankles of the unwary; her simple jewellery was strewn on the bedside