by Kay Thorpe
At Sir Mark's invitation she stayed for a swift celebratory drink with the Colbys before taking her leave, refusing to allow his obviously growing doubts to dampen her spirits. He had said he wouldn't go back on his word and she believed him. Once he realised she was not going to be the liability he feared he would start to loosen up again. She could perhaps go a long way towards convincing him of her ability to weather all events by the way she handled this guide of theirs tonight. Certainly no leathery old loafer was going to put her down !
Jason saw her down to the foyer again, his admiration unfettered.
`I'm going to enjoy this trip a whole lot more than the last one,' he admitted as she took her leave of him. 'I still can't believe how you managed to get round Mark so easily. Maybe he has a weakness for redheads.'
`I wouldn't suggest it to him,' she returned dryly. 'Anyway, I prefer to believe he was more impressed by my professionalism.'
`Oh, I'm sure he was that too.' He let go of her hand with some reluctance. 'I'll look forward to seeing you again tonight. Can you make it a bit earlier, then we could have a drink together before we meet the others?'
`That sounds a nice idea. About seven-thirty, then.' Keely gave him a wide warm smile and went out to the waiting taxi with a light step.
She composed the cable to Ben during the journey back across the city, making it as succinct as she dared allow herself. No point in giving the game away too soon. The fewer people who knew about the Fire Flower the better. She could see the sense in that. Others were capable of recognising the potential in the publicity.
Reaching the hotel, she gave it in right away, then felt able to relax a little. Time enough tomorrow to start collecting what she was going to need in the way of clothing, etcetera. In the meantime she had better advise the hotel that she would not be staying out the week after all. Perhaps they would allow her to store her suitcase and unessential stuff here until she got back. It was odds on that she might have to pay for the room anyway.
The manager, when contacted, proved amicable to the point of caring little either way. Certainly she, could leave her suitcase, she gleaned from the mostly one-sided conversation, but they would not accept responsibility for any goods missing when she came to collect it. Which decided that point at least, she concluded wryly. Space on the kind of boat which would ply the narrow reaches of a tributary would obviously be at a premium, therefore she could hardly expect to take everything with her. She would have to ask Jason's advice about this too. No doubt he and Sir Mark wouldn't be taking along all their gear either, in which case she could leave her things with theirs.
At seven she was ready for the evening's entertainment, if it could be called that, in a floor-length brown and white figured cotton with a halter neckline and a matching stole. Make-up still seemed a bit of a pointless exercise, but she did use some mascara and lipstick, teasing her hair into appealing little tendrils across her smooth forehead. It did fleetingly cross her mind that this Greg Stirling might find
more appeal in a slightly less feminine-looking female as a prospective member of the expedition, but did it really matter what he thought? Sir Mark had agreed to take her regardless of the way she looked. If she turned up now in slacks and a shirt he was going to think it decidedly odd.
The city by night was as lively as any of its northern counterparts, lights scintillating along the main avenues, the pavements thronged with opposing tides of humanity. Keely reached the Rodrigus before the half hour to find Jason already waiting for her in the foyer. He was wearing a suit the colour of thick cream together with a dark shirt and tie, his lightly tanned features an attractive compromise between the two shades. He greeted her with undisguised pleasure and took her through to the mahogany and hessian bar with its split bamboo screens providing semi-private alcoves towards the rear.
`How does your uncle feel about things now?' she asked on a humorous note when they had their drinks in front of them. 'Still regretting the impulse?'
`Alternating currents, I'd Call it.' He grinned back. 'He feels he's been got at, and he's not quite sure who by. On the other hand, he seems willing to concede your merits for the job. I think any woman with the nerve to take on this kind of trip would win his respect, especially when it's dedication to her job that prompted the urge. He can appreciate dedication.'
She glanced at him curiously. 'That sounded just a bit sour. I thought the two of you seemed to get along very well.'
`Yes, we do.' Jason looked uncomfortable. 'And I shouldn't have said that. He and my aunt have been very good to me. They brought me up after my parents were killed when I was eleven, and Mark taught me everything I know.'
But you don't have quite the same feeling for the job that he does himself?' Keely hazarded, and drew a rueful glance.
`Am I such an open book to you?'
She laughed. 'Not at all. I was making a guess.'
`But an educated one. Let's just say I'm capable of distraction and he isn't. Not in any way that counts.' His change of subject was transparent in its intent. 'Tell me about yourself. How long have you been a journalist?'
They talked through a further cocktail almost without pause, at ease with one another the way strangers all too rarely are. It was Jason who regretfully called a temporary halt to conversation at seven-fifty-five with a glance at his watch.
`About time we went along and joined the others. Mark wanted to see Greg first and accustom him to the idea of having you along. The worst should be over by now.'
Keely got to her feet on a small surge of impatience. Really, they were making rather a lot of this man's importance, weren't they? He was only the guide, after all, not the head of the expedition. Surely all Sir Mark had to do was tell the man she was going with them and leave it at that.
She spotted the iron-grey head the moment they went out to the foyer. He was at the kiosk buying cigars, an odd ruffled look about his expression which seemed to deepen at the sight of the pair of them.
`I'm afraid we've met with a snag,' he announced without preamble. 'I'm sorry to have to do this, Miss Weston, but it appears you won't be able to accompany us after all. Our guide refuses to take a woman on board his boat.'
`Oh, but that's ridiculous !' Keely was too incensed by the injustice of it to care overmuch to whom she was speaking. 'Where is he? I'll ...'
`Right here,' said a dismayingly familiar voice on a level note. 'And you won't!'
Keely forced herself to turn her head slowly and meet the cool gaze of the man she had hoped only that afternoon never to bump into again, feeling the sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. This was Greg Stirling. What kind of chance did she stand now?
CHAPTER TWO
IT seemed an age before anyone spoke. In the pause, Keely had opportunity to note the difference in the appearance of the man before her, though with a strange sense of detachment. He was wearing a suit in tropical tan which emphasised his breadth of shoulder by the very act of defining it, and sported a crisp white shirt with a brown silk tie. One hand was thrust aggressively into a pocket, the other holding the remains of a cigarette in a way that suggested a somewhat abrupt termination of a leisurely smoke. Nothing about him indicated a weak point of any kind. There was certainly nothing in the least compromising about the line of his jaw.
`Well?' he said into the silence. 'Still feel like arguing the toss?'
Keely had never felt less like it in her life. She had a horrible feeling it would be like banging her head against a brick wall. Nevertheless she had to try. She couldn't just give up and go home because one man decreed it. She had both Sir Mark and Jason Colby on her side. Surely with their support she could manage to swing his opinion her way. Chauvinistic he might be, but most of them had a soft spot if worked on the right way. The question was which?
It was necessary to take a chance on finding out. Keely took it with a rueful little shrug and a half smile.
`You seem to be holding all the cards, as they say in the films. If the boat is your
s, Mr Stirling, then of course you're entitled to say who you'll take on board.'
His eyes narrowed a fraction as he studied her; she
wasn't sure whether in amusement or contempt. 'The boat is mine,' he agreed.
Sir Mark had been looking from one to the other of them with a certain comprehension. Now he said equably, 'No point in altering our dinner arrangements. Shall we go in?'
Their table was placed centrally in the large restaurant, the Colbys' importance evidenced in the immediate attention of the head waiter to their needs. Greg Stirling took a seat on Keely's left, with Sir Mark on her other side and Jason opposite. She caught the latter's wry glance and just stopped herself in time from throwing him an encouraging one, conscious of her opponent's close proximity. Just how she was going to handle this situation she still wasn't certain, but bringing in Jason Colby wasn't going to help matters. She was on her own.
Conversation was slow getting off the ground owing to the constriction felt by at least three members of the party. Greg himself appeared to sense nothing untoward in the atmosphere, giving Keely the impression that he considered her presence of small importance now that he had sorted out her status in the order of things to come. The attitude made her smart, though not for anything would she have revealed her feelings. Mr Jumped-up Stirling would be the one to smart if she had anything to do with it ! It would give her the greatest pleasure on earth to find a way under that thick hide of his. That the doing thereof might also prove dangerous she refused to consider. She had enough experience of handling men to know how far to go. Living on her own since she was eighteen had taught her plenty about self-protection, both emotional and physical.
`What time do you plan to set off on Wednesday?' she asked eventually, feeling she had been silent long enough, and felt Greg's eyes come round to her face.
`Early,' he said. 'Not thinking of trying to stow away, by any chance?'
The remark was purely satirical, Keely reckoned, biting back the too ready retort. A man such as this one would consider no mere woman daring enough to attempt a caper of that kind. She gave him the same bland smile.
`Hardly my style. I prefer everything open and above board.'
Surprisingly his mouth quirked at the corners; not a lot but enough to reveal a certain sense of humour beneath the hardened exterior. It was some faint encouragement. No man capable of humour was totally without humanity.
`Quick,' he said. But not quick enough. The thought had crossed your mind.'
She didn't try to deny it. It obviously wasn't going to be worth her time doing so. She shrugged. 'You can hardly blame me for feeling disappointed over not going with you. My job could depend on my getting this story.'
`There may not be any story.'
Green eyes came up to examine him with a slightly widened expression. But wasn't it you yourself who saw this native woman actually wearing the Fire Flower in her hair?'
His own gaze didn't flinch. 'I could have been mistaken.'
`I doubt it.' Equability was fast running out. 'You don't strike me as the type of man who ever makes mistakes.'
`It's been known.' That the satire had registered was apparent from the sudden glint in his eyes. But not the same one twice. The Dorita is the only female going along on this trip.'
`That's the name of your boat?'
`Yes. And to save time and breath, she's named after an old tub a friend of mine used to own.'
`You have friends? Isn't that something of a drain on your self-interests?'
Sir Mark coughed and hastily broke in on the duologue before the other man could answer. 'I think I can promise
you the sole rights to any story we do happen to come up with,' he said. 'Your publication isn't likely to blow the whole thing up out of proportion like some I could mention. If we find the plant and can discover the properties which, make it grow only in this one corner of the forest, then it's possible we may be able to germinate seeds ourselves in controlled conditions.' He paused, voice acquiring a certain cynicism. 'Only then will the discovery be worth anything in terms of hard cash ... and that, unfortunately, is the only yardstick the world at large recognises.'
`Only because it's been educated that way.' Greg had switched his attention now, the hardness of his mouth relaxing again. 'Some of the Indians up river have nothing but mud huts and what food they can either catch or grow, but you'll find none of them complaining. They've got all they need to survive, and that's all they ask for.'
`Isn't it a matter of comparison?' Keely put in, refusing to be in any way squashed out of the discussion. 'They can't miss what they've never had. That doesn't mean to say they wouldn't enjoy life even more if the scope widened a little.'
Tor a time, maybe, till avarice started creeping in. Our so-called civilisation would ruin a way of life that's been going on for thousands of years inside a decade.'
`So you believe in condemning them to a perpetual Stone Age rather than give them a free choice.'
`I believe in leaving them as they are until they've evolved to the stage where they come out of the forest on their own accord. And talking of free choice, there's a group of young Dutch people up river who've turned their backs on all our world has to offer to live the way the Indians live.' His voice had a mocking undertone. 'You'd probably call it retrogressive to take off your clothes in a mixed group and live without benefit of cloth or clergy. I'd call it a simple return to Nature.'
She said coolly, 'If you admire them so much I'm surprised you don't join them.'
`Too late for me. I'm conditioned.'
`It isn't noticeable.'
The arrival of the waiter with their first course was perhaps a fortunate diversion. This was getting out of hand, Keely reflected, aware of the calculating gleam in Greg Stirling's regard Calling the man an uncivilised brute was hardly the way to go about getting him to change his mind about taking her along on his precious Dorita. If she wanted to soften him up at all she was going to have to pander to his male ego, not dig at it.
She was relieved when Jason started talking about other botanical expeditions they'd been on. It gave her time to compose herself for the battle which lay ahead, to gather her resources and plan her campaign. Confidence was what she needed most of; that and the courage to carry it through. Leading on a man of Greg's kind the way she intended to do was a hazardous undertaking, but if she succeeded in her aim she would have the Colbys around to protect her when she needed it most. What she mustn't do was allow her more modest instincts to get the better of her. He might be against taking a woman on board his boat, but he wasn't immune to the female as such; that much had been apparent from the start. All she had to do was convince him that taking her along could provide him with an agreeable distraction with whom to while away the more boring hours of the journey.
All? Her faint smile was wry. The kind of acting such a role was going to call for would tax her powers of prevarication to the limits.
The restaurant had a small dance floor and an excellent quartet. Jason was the first to suggest a dance, drawing her to him when they reached the floor with a sigh of regret.
`I can't help wishing you were coming with us,' he said.
`Blast Greg for being so pig-headed about it!'
`All is not lost,' she returned softly. 'You never know, he might just change his mind.'
`'I doubt it.' He looked at her for a moment, a frown creasing his forehead. 'Keely, you're not . . well, planning anything, are you?'
`Such as?'
`I don't know.' He smiled a little. 'I barely know you, come to that, but I've already had a sample of just how determined you can be. Only Greg is a different proposition from my uncle.'
`just as he was a different proposition from you,' she reminded him 'I can but try.'
`Providing you know what you're doing.' He hesitated before going on, 'Look, I shouldn't be telling you this, but Greg Stirling isn't a man any girl should tangle with unless she's very sure of what she's taking on. He has a hell of
a reputation where women are concerned.'
`Reputations are built on hearsay and tales always grow in the telling,' she came back, stifling her own growing doubts. `I'd be a whole lot more worried if he didn't have a reputation.'
Jason shook his head. 'I can't follow that line of reasoning.'
`Of course you can't. The trouble with most men is you're so gullible when it comes to believing in another's prowess. You should learn to take it with a pinch of salt.'
`Gullible or not, I'm ready to believe anything I hear about Stirling. There's a rumour he was involved with the wife of a government official in Peru a while back and was thrown out.'
`Bodily?'
`Or asked to leave. It amounts to the same thing. He's an odd character altogether. Has some business interest back
home in England still but prefers living a drifter's life out here.'
`It takes all sorts.' Keely's glance went over his shoulder to the table where the other two men sat talking, appraising the strong brown lines of a face fast becoming a fixture in her mind and feeling the curl of apprehension in her stomach. Was Jason right about keeping clear of him? Should she give in gracefully now and place her reliance on Sir Mark's promise to give World sole rights to any story when they returned? But what about that cable she had sent Ben Reynolds? How was she going to explain her failure to follow it through? He would expect her to make every effort to secure those rights without any shadow of doubt, and the best way of doing that was to be right in there when it all happened ... if it did happen. For one thing, how was she going to take photographs of the Fire Flower in its natural habitat if she wasn't there when they found it? And they were going to find it. She was suddenly certain of that. Men like Greg Stirling didn't go off on wild goose chases. No, she had to go with them. One way or another, she had to go !
The two older men were still talking when they got back to the table. Keely had deliberately lingered until the music started up again. Now she made no attempt to take her seat, standing with one hand on the back of it as she looked down at Greg, her heart thudding against her ribs until she was certain he must hear it.