by Anne Mather
Graham led the way up wooden steps into the air-conditioned office building. They entered a long narrow hallway with several doors opening from it. Graham opened the first of these and they entered a room of generous proportions entirely dominated by the heavy desk that stood square in the centre of the polished wooden floor. Perched on a corner of the desk was a young woman smoking a cigarette and passing the time by blowing smoke-rings into the air. At the far side of the desk a young man was standing staring through the meshed grill of the window, but he turned abruptly at their entrance and gave Jason a derogatory glance. ‘Well, well,’ he remarked, rather sarcastically, ‘Wilde himself! Surprise, surprise!’
The girl had slid off the desk now and also stood regarding him, a strange expression in the depths of eyes that were amazingly green. They were set in a face that while not possessing actual beauty held character and animation, and Jason understood why Graham had been so enthusiastic. Honey-gold hair hung to her shoulders, and was at present controlled by a wide band round her head. She was wearing mud-coloured levis and a cream shirt, and the masculine attire accentuated rather than detracted from her femininity.
‘Well,’ said Paul Mannering again. ‘Aren’t you going to say anything, Jason? I gather from Wilson that you didn’t know we were coming.’
‘No, I did not,’ agreed Jason, folding his arms and regarding them coolly, his cigarette between his lips. ‘Perhaps you’d better tell me first of all why this young woman is here. You—we can leave till later!’ There was insolence in his tone.
Paul Mannering’s face flushed with colour, but the girl didn’t turn a hair. She merely took a final draw on her own cigarette, blew a couple more smoke-rings, and then stood on the stub, almost defiantly. Jason felt angry. How dared Harold Mannering send his son out here without warning, with or without announcement? Who the hell did he think he was? Why should he, Jason, have to make a man out of a layabout like Paul Mannering? And what was more to the point of the infuriation he was feeling, how dared Paul Mannering bring his current girl-friend with him, just for kicks? Surely he knew his father wouldn’t stand for that!
‘This young woman is Nicola King,’ said Paul now, his colour subsiding a little, and a belligerent expression taking its place. ‘Contrary to the lurid ideas that are buzzing round your brain she is not my responsibility. She’s all Dad’s.’
Jason’s brows drew together in a dark scowl. ‘What does that mean?’
The girl moved, and a half-smile lifted the corners of her mouth. ‘It means, Mr. Wilde, that I am what I told your Mr. Wilson I am, a secretary, nothing more, nothing less.’
Jason gave her a scathing look. ‘And what are you doing here, Miss King? Inter-Anglia needs no secretaries in the middle of the Abyrra desert. Or has Mannering taken leave of his senses? After all, sending Paul out here is hardly the action of a sensible man!’
‘You watch your tongue,’ snapped Paul Mannering angrily.
‘I’m not a contortionist,’ muttered Jason, taking his cigarette out of his mouth. ‘Miss King, suppose you explain a little more!’
Nicola King stretched, drawing attention to the curving slenderness of her body. ‘Mr. Wilde, we have been travelling since early this morning. I am hot and tired, and as we have been hanging around here for the best part of two hours waiting for you to return I don’t think it’s unreasonable to request that we be allowed a shower, a change of clothes and something to eat before feeling inclined to answer your rather obvious questions. Believe me, my reasons for being here are strictly non-social. If I had wanted an exciting life, I would hardly have chosen an oil drilling rig, miles out in the desert, where the heat and the flies and the total absence of civilized pursuits make my toes curl!’
Jason’s eyes narrowed. He couldn’t help but admire her spirit. She had more confidence than Mannering’s son, even if he had had a public school education and delighted in making the headlines with one or other of his crazy schemes. But that did not endear her to Jason. He considered her self-opinionated and hard, and he speculated cynically on her relationship to the Mannerings. If she was not Paul’s girl-friend, he deplored the methods she must have used to get Harold Mannering to allow her to come out here.
‘Graham,’ he said harshly, ‘take the lady to Caxton’s bungalow. See she has everything she wants, and after she’s improved her temper as well as her appearance, bring her over to my place.’
Graham nodded, and Nicola King was forced to accompany him out of the door. But the glance she cast in Jason’s direction was killing. Already the swift African night was falling and outside a velvety darkness melted the heat of the day. After they had gone, Jason leaned back against the door and studied his chairman’s son rather disparagingly.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘what’s the idea?’
Mannering’s eyes widened. ‘Idea? What idea? Do you mean me being here? Or Nicola?’
‘A little of both.’
‘Like I said, it’s nothing to do with me. Do you imagine I asked to come out here? Good God, if there’d been any way of getting out of it I would have taken it. But while my hands are tied, moneywise—’ He shrugged his slim shoulders. ‘Anyway, it can’t last.’
‘What can’t?’
‘Me, being out here!’ Paul fumbled for his cigarettes and then muttered: ‘Thanks’ as Jason offered him one. When it was lit he continued: ‘I suppose you’ll get all the sordid details from Dad so I might as well tell you my story first. There was this girl—’
‘There always is,’ remarked Jason laconically.
‘Yeah, I know. And I’m always the sucker! But this doll was crazy about me, and I’m only human after all. How was I to know she’d take me seriously? Anyway, it turned out her dad was an ex-wrestler or something. He practically kidnapped me one night after I’d stopped seeing her. He went berserk!’ Paul’s young face blanched at the memory. ‘Anyhow, to cut a long story short, the police were called and the press got to know and there was a God-awful stink! You can imagine what kind of coverage it got. The girl said she was pregnant, but she wasn’t, our doctor proved that, thank heaven! But naturally it’s left a pretty nasty situation, and Dad thought it was time I got out of the country for a while. I agreed. I didn’t know he had this in mind.’
Jason’s dark brows were raised. ‘I see,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I guessed as much. How old are you now, Paul—twenty, twenty-one? Hell, I don’t ever remember being as young as you!’
‘I’m twenty-two, actually,’ replied Paul sullenly. ‘You’re not so different. What about that Ellis woman?’
Jason shrugged. ‘A little different, I think, Paul. Anyway, that’s beside the point, I suppose. You’re here now, and we’re stuck with you. But by heaven, you’re not going to lie around here. You’ll work, boy, believe me, you’ll work!’
Paul’s colour deepened again. ‘Dad knew what he was doing when he sent me here, didn’t he?’ he muttered. ‘Home from bloody home!’
‘Never mind, kid. He may take pity on you. But that still doesn’t explain that girl’s arrival. Who the hell is she? If she’s not your girl-friend, what is she?’
‘You’d better wait and ask Dad,’ retorted Paul, sniffing. ‘Now, where do I shack down?’
Jason straightened, and opened the door, pausing momentarily in the aperture. ‘I guess you could share with young Collins,’ he said. ‘He’s one of the drilling crew. He’s about your age.’
‘I’d prefer to be alone,’ said Paul moodily.
‘I expect you would. However, there are only a certain number of bungalows here, and Caxton’s is only empty because he’s home on compassionate leave. His wife’s just had their fifth child. So for the present, you’ll have to be content with sharing with Collins. That is, unless you can persuade your travelling companion that her journey wasn’t really necessary?’
‘I’ve told you,’ exclaimed Paul. ‘Nicola is not my concern.’
Jason studied him a moment, and then shrugged. ‘Okay, let’s go. I’ll drop yo
u off and introduce you to Collins on my way to my bungalow. He’ll take you over to the cookhouse later, and see you get a meal. Tomorrow we’ll consider what we can find for you to do.’
After he had got Paul settled with young Tony Collins, Jason drove thankfully to his own bungalow, and after parking the Land-Rover, mounted the steps wearily. Ali met him in the hall.
‘At last you have come,’ he said complainingly. ‘The meal—it has been ready this half-hour.’
Jason grimaced. ‘Well, I guess it’ll have to wait another half-hour, Ali. I’m hot and sweaty, and I need a shower, not to mention a change of clothes.’
Ali pulled a long-suffering face, but Jason merely gave him a pat on the back and walked into his bedroom. The shower, despite being lukewarm, was refreshing, and clean cotton pants and a thin cotton knitted shirt felt good. He combed his thick hair, and re-entered the hall to cross it to the lounge. The bungalows were simply constructed with one long room serving as dining room and lounge, and the other side of the central hall was divided into bedroom and bathroom. The oil company erected these air-conditioned living quarters wherever they went, providing civilized accommodation for men who spent hours daily in entirely uncivilized conditions. Ali’s quarters and the kitchen were out back, while at the front of the building was a verandah where one could sit in the cool of the evening. And the evenings could be very cold.
But now Jason was glad to accept the iced lager that Ali had waiting for him in the lounge and stifled an angry exclamation when the telephone rang insistently. Lifting the receiver, he said: ‘Wilde speaking,’ in a curt tone.
‘Jason? Is that you?’ The voice was faint but familiar.
‘Yes, Harold, it’s me,’ said Jason dryly, recognizing the voice of his superior back in London.
‘You sound angry, Jason,’ said Sir Harold Mannering, chuckling. ‘I gather Paul and Nicola have arrived. Am I right?’
Jason swallowed half his lager at a gulp. ‘You’re damn right,’ he answered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. ‘What’s the idea? Unloading your problems on to me?’
‘Oh, you can handle Paul, Jason. Has he told you what happened here?’
‘His version,’ remarked Jason coldly. ‘Okay, I admit, Paul doesn’t cause many problems, but why send the girl?’
Sir Harold laughed. ‘Now you must confess, it wasn’t such an unpleasant surprise, was it?’ he said cheerfully.
Jason’s brows drew together frowningly. ‘Have you taken leave of your senses, Harold?’ he muttered. ‘Sending a girl like that out here when I already have problems enough with the men!’
Sir Harold sounded less amiable. ‘Steady on, Jason,’ he said shortly. ‘You aren’t chairman yet, you know.’
Jason breathed hard through his nose. ‘Harold,’ he said tightly, ‘I want Nicola King back in England at the earliest opportunity.’
Sir Harold cleared his throat. ‘Are you ordering me, Jason?’
Jason sighed. ‘Hell, no, Harold! Look, try to see it my way, if Paul needs a feminine shoulder to cry on, let him take himself off to Gitana like the rest of the crew. Why should he bring his girl-friend out here? I warn you—the men won’t like it.’
Sir Harold’s amiability returned. ‘Now I know you’re joking, Jason,’ he said, chuckling. ‘You know damn nicely, Nicola’s not interested in Paul.’
Jason ran a hand across his forehead. He was tired and in need of sleep, and Sir Harold’s words were not making sense any more. Making a last attempt to understand the situation, he said:
‘Okay, okay, Harold. Why is she here?’
Sir Harold seemed to hesitate. ‘Well, she’s a pretty good secretary, Jason. She’s worked in my office for the last eleven months, and I’m pretty sure you need some help with those reports. Don’t deny that they’re always late in arriving. Look here, the girl wanted to come out with Paul, and while I know it’s irregular, well—I’m sure you can handle it.’
Jason shook his head, finished his lager and signalled to Ali to provide him with another. ‘How long am I expected to keep her here?’ he said tautly. ‘I warn you—this is your responsibility, not mine.’
Sir Harold sniffed. ‘Well, I must admit, you’re a pretty ungrateful devil, Jason,’ he said broodingly. ‘Anyway, Nicola has another assignment. She’s to keep an eye on Paul for me. I don’t trust that boy out of my sight.’
‘Short of running amok in a harem, there’s little trouble he can get himself into here,’ returned Jason sarcastically. ‘Anyway, to introduce more mundane problems, I’m happy to state that the men return to work tomorrow.’
‘Ah, you’ve seen Mohammed, then?’
‘Yes, this afternoon.’
‘What percentage?’
‘Three.’
‘Good, good!’ Sir Harold sounded delighted. ‘You’ve done well Jason. I’m immensely pleased. I’m sure the board will be, too.’
Jason grimaced. ‘Don’t I warrant a bonus?’ he asked dryly.
‘You surely do.’
‘Then take the girl back!’ Jason’s tones were flat.
‘Give her a chance, Jason,’ exclaimed Sir Harold. ‘Heck, she’s just arrived. Let her prove herself. Don’t be so stubborn!’
‘Prove herself?’ Jason shook his head again. ‘You’re losing me again, Harold. Okay, okay, leave it for now. I’ll handle it. I’m too tired right now to argue with you.’
Sir Harold hung up chuckling, and after he had replaced his receiver Jason sat staring at the phone with puzzled eyes. It wasn’t like Sir Harold to be so obtuse. What in hell did he think he was doing? Unless he imagined that by sending a suitable applicant out to Castanya he might persuade him to give up his bachelor status. For long enough Sir Harold had been trying to get him settled. Maybe this was his final effort. Even so, it was an unsatisfactory solution, but the only one he could come up with.
CHAPTER TWO
IN the absent Caxton’s bungalow, Nicola King was taking a shower. The water which sprayed from the tank was warm, but invigorating, and she moved beneath its spray sensuously, loving the feel of the water against her hot skin. Despite the primitive conditions she was experiencing a sense of well-being and satisfaction. She was here, at Castanya; and there was absolutely nothing Jason Wilde could do about it.
She smiled as she recalled his outraged anger when he had discovered her presence on the site. Perhaps he had had enough of women for the time being, but she intended to see that he changed his mind. And then…
Her expression hardened. Jason Wilde would find out that there were still some things he had to learn. He was so big, so powerful, so arrogantly assured of himself. Well, she would change all that. Just how, she was not sure. But she would find a way, of that she was certain. After all, everything had gone according to plan so far. She was here, when everything had been against her achieving such a thing. She gave a slight grimace. It hadn’t been easy. Sir Harold had had to be persuaded, cajoled, gently flattered. He was a man like other men. And Nicola knew she was a woman men found attractive. Besides, there had been a sense of power in controlling a man like Sir Harold Mannering.
She turned off the shower, and stepped out of the cubicle. Wrapping herself in the voluminous folds of a huge bathsheet, she wound it sarong-wise round her body and walked into the bedroom. Seating herself on the bed, she began to brush her thick hair until it was a sleek corn-coloured curtain about her shoulders. As she studied her appearance in the mirror of the dressing table she felt a faint twinge of regret, of conscience, almost. Was that hard-eyed creature intent on revenge really herself? Was she really determining to wreck a man’s life? Where was her warmth and gentleness? Where was the eager young woman with confidence in herself and a zest for life?
She looked away from her image. That girl was gone—for ever. Banished by the careless actions of the man she had met only half an hour ago. Not that he was aware of the havoc he had wrought in her life. She doubted very much whether he was aware of the full extent of the havoc he had wr
ought in her sister’s life. But he would become aware of it, of that she had no doubt. And when he did—then she would have her revenge.
She dressed in a slim-fitting shift of apricot cotton, left her hair loose about her shoulders, and applied a little eye-shadow and some lipstick. It was no good endeavouring a full make-up. The heat would cake foundation applications to her skin in no time.
As she was completing her toilet she heard a tapping at the door of the bungalow, and she emerged into the hall, and called ‘Come in!’
Graham Wilson came through the door, smiling broadly. ‘Well?’ he said cheerfully. ‘Did you find everything you needed?’
Nicola smiled back. ‘Yes,’ she said, nodding. ‘Thank you.’ She glanced into the lounge. ‘Won’t you come in? I think there are some drinks in the cabinet there.’
Graham flushed. ‘Er—no, thanks, if you don’t mind. Jason is expecting you, and I think we ought to be going.’
Nicola nodded understandingly. ‘Ah, I see. Mr. Wilde. You find him a hard taskmaster?’
‘Heck, no!’ Graham was youthfully vehement. ‘Jason’s a grand chap to work with. All the fellows like him. But he hasn’t much patience with late-comers, and he knows I came to collect you.’
Nicola decided this was no time to attempt to alienate the image Graham Wilson had of his boss, so she just said: ‘Hang on while I get my bag,’ and then followed him out of the bungalow.
They walked to Jason Wilde’s bungalow, and it gave Nicola a chance to take a more detailed look at the site. The rows of living quarters edged a central highway, and at the far end a long low building was brightly lit, the music emanating from its interior indicating that this must be some sort of social centre.
Graham, sensing her speculation, said: ‘That’s the clubhouse. There’s a pool out back of there, and we really appreciate it after a day at the rig. Most of the men work a shift system, and the clubhouse is open day and night. There’s a restaurant,’—he grinned, ‘I guess you’d call it a canteen, and the men can get a meal when they finish their stint. They work four days on and three off, generally. There are no accepted weekends here, like back home, and every month the men get a full week’s leave. Usually they go down to Gitana, on the coast. There’s plenty of activity at Gitana.’