by Wilbur Smith
We're just going to have to smoke those fat cats at Orient Amex out into
the open/ Tom Parker growled angrily, and kick their arses blue for
them. The only way we are going to do that is through Green-Peace. They
had landed back at Miami International, exhausted and disappointed, but
not yet despondent. Like the man said/ Samantha muttered grimly, as she
threaded her gaudy van back into the city traffic flow, we have only
just begun to fight. She had only a few hours to clean herself up and
stretch out on the patchwork quilt before she had to dress again and
race back to the airport. The Australian had already passed through
customs and was looking lost and dejected in the terminal lobby.
Hi, I'm Sam Silver. She pushed away fatigue, and hoisted that brilliant
golden smile like a flag.
His name was Mr. Dennis O'Connor and he was top man in his field, doing
fascinating and important work on the reef populations of Eastern
Australian waters, and he had come a long way to talk to her and see her
experiments.
I didn't expect you to be so young. She had signed her correspondence
Doctor Silver and he gave the standard reaction to her. Samantha was
just tired and angry enough not to take it.
And I'm a woman. You didn't expect that either/ she agreed.
It's a crying bastard, isn't it? But then, I bet some of your best
friends are young females. He was a dinky-die Aussie, and he loved it.
He burst into an appreciative grin, and as they shook hands, he said,
You are not going to believe this, but I like you just the way you are.
He was tall and lean, sunburned and just a little grizzled at the
temples, and within minutes they were friends, and the respect with
which he viewed her work confirmed that.
The Australian had brought with him, in an oxygenated container.
container, five thousand live specimens of E Digitalis the common
Australian water snail, for inclusion in Samantha's experimentation. He
had selected these animals for their abundance and their importance in
the ecology of the Australian inshore waters, and the two of them were
soon so absorbed in the application of Samantha's techniques to this new
creature that when her assistant stuck her head through and yelled,
"Hey, Sam, there's a call for you/ she shouted back, Take a message.
if they're lucky I'll call them back. It's international, person to
person! and Samantha's pulse raced; instantly forgotten was the host of
Spiral-coned sea snails.
Nicholas! she shouted happily, spilled half a pint of sea water down
the Australian's trouser leg and ran wildly to the small cubicle at the
end of the laboratory.
She was breathless with excitement as she snatched up the receiver and
she pressed one hand against her heart to stop it thumping.
Is that Doctor Silver? Yes! It's me. Then correcting her grammar, It
is she! Go ahead, please/ said the operator, and there was a click and
pulse on the line as it came alive.
Nicholas! she exulted. Darling Nicholas, is that you? No., The voice
was very clear and serene, as though the speaker stood beside her, and
it was familiar, disconcertIngly so, and for no good reason Samantha
felt her heart shrink with dread.
This is Chantelle Alexander, Peter's mother. We have met briefly. Yes.
Samantha's voice was now small, and still breathless.
I thought it would be kind to tell you in person, before you hear from
other sources - that Nicholas and I have decided to re-marry.
Samantha sat down jerkily on the office stool.
Are you there? Chantelle asked after a moment.
I don't believe you, whispered Samantha.
I'm sorry, Chantelle told her gently. But there is Peter, you see, and
we have rediscovered each other - discovered that we had never stopped
loving each other. Nicholas wouldn't - her voice broke, and she could
not go on.
You must understand and forgive him, my dear/ Chantelle explained. After
our divorce he was hurt and lonely.
I'm sure he did not mean to take advantage of you. But, but - we were
supposed to, we were going to I know. Please believe me, this has not
been easy for any of us. For all our sakes - We had planned a whole
life together. Samantha shook her head wildly, and a thick skein of
golden hair came loose and flopped into her face, she pushed it back
with a combing gesture. I don't believe it, why didn't Nicholas tell me
himself? I won't believe it until he tells me.
Chantelle's voice was compassionate, gentle. I so wanted not to make it
ugly for you, my child, but now what can I do but tell you that Nicholas
spent last night in my house, in my bed, in my arms, where he truly
belongs. It was almost miraculous, a physical thing, but sitting
hunched on the hard round stool Samantha Silver felt her youth fall away
from her, sloughed off like a glittering reptilian skin. She was left
with the sensation of timelessness, possessed of all the suffering and
sorrow of every woman who had lived before. She felt very old and wise
and sad, and she lifted her fingers and touched her own not dried cheek,
mildly surprised to feel that the skin was and withered like that of
some ancient crone.
,I have already made the arrangements for a divorce from my present
husband, and Nicholas will resume his position at the head of Christy
Marine. it was true, Samantha knew then that it was true.
There was no question, no doubt, and slowly she replaced the receiver of
the telephone, and sat staring blankly at the bare wall of the cubicle.
She did not cry, she felt as though she would never cry, nor laugh,
again in her life.
Chantelle Alexander studied her husband carefully, trying to stand
outside herself, and to see him dispassionately.
She found it easier now that the giddy insanity had burned away.
He was a handsome man, tall and lean, with those carefully groomed
metallic waves of coppery hair. Even the wrist that he shot from the
crisp white cuff of his sleeve was covered with those fine gleaming
hairs. She knew so well that even his lean chest was covered with thick
golden curls, crisp and curly as fresh lettuce leaves. She had never
been attracted by smooth hairless men.
,May I smoke? he asked, and she inclined her head.
His voice had also attracted her from the first, deep and resonant, but
with those high-bred accents, the gentle softening of the vowel sounds,
the lazy drawling of consonthings that ants. The voice and the
patrician manner were 1 she had been trained to appreciate - and yet,
under the mannered cultivated exterior was the flash of exciting
wickedness, that showed in the wolfish white gleam of smile, and the
sharp glittering grey steel of his gaze, He lit the custom-made
cigarette with the gold lighter she had given him - her very first gift,
the night they had become lovers, Even now, the memory of was piquant,
and for a moment she felt the soft melting warmth in her lower belly and
she stirred restlessly in her chair, There had been reason, and good
reason for that madness, and even now
it was over, she would never
regret it, It had been a period in her life which she had not been able
to deny herself. The grand sweeping illicit passion, the last flush of
her youth, the final careless autumn that preceded middle age. Another
ordinary woman might have had to content herself with sweaty sordid
gropings and grapplings in anonymous hotel bedrooms, but not Chantelle
Christy. Her world was shaped by her own whims and desires, and, as she
had told Nicholas, whatever she desired was hers to take. Long ago, her
father had taught her that there were special rules for Chantelle
Christy, and the rules were those she made herself.
It had been marvelous, she shivered slightly at the lingering sensuality
of those early days, but now it was over.
During the past months she had been carefully comparing the two men. Her
decision had not been lightly made.
She had watched Nicholas retrieve his life from the gulf of disaster. On
his own, stripped naked of all but that invisible indefinable mantle of
strength and determination, he had fought his way back out of the gulf.
Strength and power had always moved her, but she had over the years
grown accustomed to Nicholas. Familiarity had staled their relationship
for her. But now her interlude with Duncan had freshened her view of
him, and he had for her all the novel appeal of a new lover - yet with
the proven values and qualities of long intimate acquaintance.
Duncan Alexander was finished, Nicholas Berg was the future.
But, no, she would never regret this interlude in her life.
It had been a time of rejuvenation, she would not even regret Nicholas
involvement with the pretty American child. Later, it would add a
certain perverse spice to her own sexuality, she thought, and felt the
shiver run down her thighs and the soft secret stirring of her flesh,
like the opening of a petalled rosebud. Duncan had taught her many
things, bizarre little tricks of arousal, made more poignant by being
forbidden and wicked. Unfortunately Duncan relied almost entirely on
the tricks, and not all of them had worked for her - the corners of her
mouth turned down with distaste as she remembered; perhaps it was just
that which had begun the curdling process.
No, Duncan Alexander had not been able to match her raw, elemental
sexuality and soaring abandon. Only one man had ever been able to do
that. Duncan had served a purpose, but now it was over. It might have
dragged on a little longer, but Duncan Alexander had endangered Christy
Marine. Never had she thought of that possibility; Christy Marine was a
fact of her life, as vast and immutable as the heavens, but now the
foundations of heaven were being shaken. His sexual attraction had
staled, she might have forgiven him that, but not the other.
She became aware of Duncan's discomfort. He twisted sideways in his
chair, crossing and uncrossing his long legs, and he rolled the
cigarette between his fingers, studying the rising spiral of blue smoke
to avoid the level, expressionless gaze of her dark fathomless eyes.
She had been staring at him, but seeing the other man, Now, with an
effort, she focused her attention on him.
Thank you for coming so promptly, she said, It did seem rather urgent.
He smiled for the first time, glossy and urbane - but with fear down
there in the cool grey eyes, and his tension was betrayed by the
clenched sinew in the point of his jaw.
Looking closely, as she had not done for many months, she saw how he was
fined down. The long tapered fingers were bony, and never still. There
were new harder lines to his mouth, and a frown to the set of his eyes.
The skin at the corners cracked like oil paint into hundreds of fine
wrinkles that the deep brown snow-tan hid from a casual glance. Now he
returned her scrutiny directly.
From what you told me yesterday She lifted her hand to stop him.
"That can wait. I merely wanted to impress you with the seriousness of
what is happening. What is really of prime importance now is what you
have done with control of my shares and those of the Trust. His hands
went very still. What does that mean? I want auditors, my appointed
auditors, sent in I He shrugged. All this will take time, Chantelle,
and I'm not certain that I'm ready to relinquish control. He was very
cool, very casual now and the fear was gone.
She felt a stir of relief, perhaps the horror story that Nicholas had
told her was untrue, perhaps the danger was imaginary only..
Christy Marine was so big, so invulnerable. Not just at the moment,
anyway.
You'd have to prove to me that doing so was in the best interest of the
company and of the Trust., I don't have to prove anything, to anyone,
she said flatly.
This time you do. You have appointed me No court of law would uphold
that agreement. Perhaps not, Chantelle, but do you want to drag all
this through the courts - at a time like this, I'm not afraid, Duncan.
She stood up quickly, light on her feet as a dancer. the lovely legs in
loose black silk trousers, soft flat shoes making her seem still
smaller, a slim gold chain emphasizing the narrowness of the tiny waist.
You know I'm afraid of nothing. She stood over him, and pointed the
accuser's finger. The nails tipped in scarlet, the colour of fresh
arterial blood. You should be the one to fear. And precisely what is
it you are accusing me of? And she told him, reeling off swiftly the
lists of guarantees made by the Trust, the transfer of shares and the
issues of new shares and guarantees within the Christy Marine group of
subsidiaries, she listed the known layering of underwriting cover on
Golden Dawn that Nicholas had unearthed.
,When my auditors have finished, Duncan darling, not only will the
courts return control of Christy Marine to me, but they will probably
sentence you to five years at hard labour. They take this sort of thing
rather seriously, you know. He smiled. He actually smiled! She felt
her fury seething to the surface and the set of her eyes altered, colour
tinted the smooth pale olive of her cheeks.
You dare to grin at me/ she hissed. I will break you for that.
"No/ he shook his head. No, you won't. Are you denying -'she snapped,
but he cut her off with a raised hand, and a shake of that handsome
arrogant head.
I am denying nothing, my love. On the contrary, I am going to admit it
- and more, much more. He flicked the cigarette away, and it hissed
sharply in the lapping blue wavelets of the yacht basin. While she
stared at him, struck speechless, he let the silence play out like a
skilled actor as he selected and lit another cigarette from the gold
case.
For some weeks now I have been fully aware that somebody was prying very
deeply into my affairs and those of the company. He blew a long blue
feather of cigarette smoke, and cocked one eyebrow at her, a cynical
mocking gesture which increased her fury, but left her feeling suddenly
afraid and uncertain. It didn't take long to establish that the trace
was coming from a
little man in Monte Carlo who makes a living at
financial and industrial espionage.
Lazarus is good, excellent, the very best. I have used him myself, in
fact it was I who introduced him to Nicholas Berg. He chuckled then,
shaking his head indulgently.
The silly things we do sometimes. The connection was immediate.
Berg and Lazarus. I have run my own check on that even what they have
come up with and estimate Lazarus could not have uncovered more than
twenty-five percent of the answers. He leaned forward and suddenly his
voice snapped with a new authority. You see, Chantelle dear, I am
probably one of the best in the world myself.
They could never have traced it all. You are not denying then - She
heard the faltering tone in her own voice, and hated herself for it. He
brushed her aside contemptuously.
Be quiet, you silly little woman, and listen to me. I am going to tell
you just how deeply you are in - I am going to explain to you, in terms
that even you can understand, why you will not send in your auditors,
why you will not fire me, and why you will do exactly what I tell you to
do. He paused and stared into her eyes, a direct trial of strength
which she could not meet. She was confused and uncertain, for once not
in control of her own destiny. She dropped her eyes, and he nodded with
satisfaction.
Very well. Now listen. I have put it all - everything that is Christy
Marine - it is all riding on Golden Dawn. Chantelle felt the earth turn
giddily under her feet and the sudden roaring rush of blood in her ears.
She stepped back and the stone parapet caught the back of her knees.
She sat down heavily.
What are you talking about? she whispered. And he told her, in
substantial detail, from the beginning, how it had worked out. From the
laying of Golden Dawn's keel in the times of vast tanker tonnage demand.
My calculations were based on demand for tanker space two years ago, and
on construction costs of that time. The energy crisis and collapse in
demand for tankers had come with the vicious rise in inflation, bloating
the costs of construction of Golden Dawn by more than double.
Duncan had countered by altering the design of the gigantic tanker. He
had reduced the four propulsion units to one, he had cut down the steel
structuring of the hull reinforcement by twenty percent, he had done