by Wilbur Smith
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 marvellous, 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-‘
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 away with elaborate safety functions and fail-safe systems designed by Nicholas Berg, and he had cut it too fine. He had forfeited the Al Lloyd's rating, the mark of approval from the inspectors of that venerable body; without the insurance backing of that huge underwriting market, he had been forced to look elsewhere to find the cover to satisfy his financiers. The premiums had been crippling. He had to pledge Christy Marine stock, the Trust stock. Then the spiralling cost of production had overtaken him again and he needed money and more money, He had taken it where he could find it, at rates of interest that were demanded, and used more Christy stock as collateral.
Then the insurance cover had been insufficient to cover the huge increase in the cost of the ultra-tanker's hull.
‘When luck runs out –‘ Duncan shrugged eloquently, and went on, ‘I had to pledge more Christy stock, all of it. It's all at risk, Chantelle, every single piece of paper, even the shares we retrieved from your Nicholas - and even that wasn't enough. I have had to write cover through front companies, cover that is worthless.’ Then, Duncan smiled again, relaxed and unruffled, almost as though he was enjoying himself, ‘then, there was that awful fiasco when Golden Adventurer went up on the ice, and I had to find six million dollars to pay the salvage award. That was the last of it, I went out for everything then, all of it. The Trust, the whole of Christy Marine.’
‘I'll break you,’ she whispered. ‘I'll smash you. I swear before God –‘
‘You don't understand, do you?’ He shook his head sorrowfully, as though at an obtuse child. ‘You cannot break me, without breaking Christy Marine and yourself. You are in it, Chantelle, much much deeper than I am. You have everything every penny, this house, that emerald on your finger, the future of your brat - all of it is riding on Golden Dawn’
‘No.’ She closed her eyes very tightly, and there was no colour in her cheeks now.
‘Yes. I'm afraid it's yes,’ he contradicted. ‘I didn't plan it that way. I saw a profit of 200 millions in it, but we have been caught up in circumstances, I'm afraid.’
They were both silent, and Chantelle swayed slightly as the full enormity of it overwhelmed her.
‘If you whistle up your hounds now, if you call in your axe-men, there will be plenty for them to work on,’ he laughed again, ‘buckets of dung for us all to wallow in. And my backers will line up to cancel out, Golden Dawn will never run down her ways - she is not fully covered, as I explained to you. It all hangs on a single thread, Chantelle. If the launching of Golden Dawn is delayed now, delayed by a month - no, by a week even, it will all come tumbling down.’
‘I'm going to be sick,’ she whispered thickly.
‘No, you are not.’ He stood up and crossed quickly to her. Coldly he slapped her face, two hard open-handed back and forth blows, that snapped her head from side to side, leaving the livid marks of his fingers on her pale cheeks. it was the first time ever that a man had struck her, but she could not find the indignation to protest. She merely stared at him.
‘Pull yourself together,’ he snarled at her, and gripped her shoulders fiercely, shaking her as he went on. ‘Listen to me. I have told you the worst that can happen. Now, I will tell you the best. If we stand together now, if you obey me implicitly, without question, I will pull off one of the greatest financial coups of the century for you. All it needs is one successful voyage by Golden Dawn and we are home free - a single voyage, a few short weeks, and I will have doubled your fortune.’ She was staring at him, sickened and shaken to the core of her existence. ‘I have signed an agreement of charter with Orient Amex, that will pull us out from under with a single voyage, and the day Golden Dawn anchors in Galveston roads and sends in her tank pods to discharge, I will have a dozen buyers for her.’ He stepped back, and straightened the lapels of his jacket. ‘They are going to remember my name. In future when they talk of tankers, they are going to talk of Duncan Alexander.’
‘I hate you,’ she said softly. ‘I truly hate you.’
"That is not important.’ He waved it away. ‘When it is over, I can afford to walk away - and you can afford to let me go. But not a moment before.’
‘How much will you make from this, if it succeeds?’ she asked, and she was recovering, her voice firmer.
‘A great deal. A very great deal of money - but my real reward will be in reputation and achievement. After this, I will be a man who can write his own ticket.’
‘For once, you will be able to stand comparison with Nicholas Berg. Is that it?’ She saw she had scored immediately, and she pressed harder, trying to wound and destroy. ‘But you and I both know it is not true. Golden Dawn was Nicholas’ inspiration and he would not have had to descend to the cheat and sham-‘
‘My dear Chantelle - ,’
‘You will never be, could never be the man Nicholas is.’
‘Damn you.’ Suddenly he was shaking with anger, and she was screaming at him.
‘You're a cheat and a liar. For all your airs, you're still a cheap little barrow-boy at heart. You're small and shoddy-‘
‘I've beaten Nicholas Berg every time I've met him.’
‘No, you haven't, Duncan, It was I who beat him for you!’
‘I took you-‘
‘For a while,’ she sneered. ‘Just for a short fling, Duncan dear. But when he wanted me he took me right back again.’
‘What do you mean by that?’ he demanded.
‘The night before last, Nicholas was here, and he loved me in a way you never could. I'm going back to him, and I'll tell the world why.’
‘You bitch.’
‘He is so strong, Duncan. Strong where you are weak.’
‘And you are a whore.’ He half turned away, and then paused. ‘Just be at St Nazaire on Tuesday.’ But she could see he was hurt, at last she had cut through the carapace and touched raw quick nerves.
‘He loved me four times in one night. Duncan, magnificent soaring love. Did you ever do that?’
‘I want you at St Nazaire , smiling at the creditors on Tuesday.’
‘Even if you succeed with Golden Dawn, within six months Nicholas will have your job.’
‘But until then you'll do exactly what I say.’ Duncan braced himself, a visible effort, and began to walk away.
‘You are going to be the loser, Duncan Alexander,’ she screamed after him, her voice cracking shrilly with frustration and outrage. ‘I will see to that - I swear it to you.’
He subdued the urge to run, and crossed the terrace, holding himself carefully erect, and the storm of her hatred and frustration burst around him.
‘Go into the streets where you belong, into the gutter where I found you,’ she screamed, and he went up the stone staircase and out of her sight. Now he could hurry, but he found his legs were trembling under him, his breath was ragged and broken, and there was a tight knot of anger and jealousy turning his guts into a ball.
‘The bastard,’ he spoke aloud. ‘That bastard Berg.’
‘Tom? Tom Parker?’
‘That'
s right, who is this, please?’ His voice was so clear and strong, although the Atlantic Ocean separated them.
‘It's Nicholas, Nicholas Berg.’
‘Nick, how are you?’ the big voice boomed with genuine pleasure. ‘God, I'm glad you called. I've been trying to reach you. I've got good news. The best.’
Nicholas felt a quick lift of relief.
‘Samantha?’
‘No, damn it,’ Tom laughed. ‘It's the job. Your Job. It went up before the Board of Governors of the University yesterday. I had to sell it to them hard - I'll tell you that for free - but they okayed it. You're on, Nick, isn't that great?’
‘It's terrific, Tom.’
‘You're on the Biology faculty as an associate, it's the thin end of the wedge, Nicholas. We'll have you a chair by the end of next year, you wait and see.’
‘I'm delighted.’
‘Christ, you don't sound it,’ Tom roared. ‘What's bugging you, boy?’
‘Tom what the hell has happened to Samantha?’
And Nicholas sensed the mood change, the silence lasted a beat too long, and then Tom's tone was guileless.
‘She went off on a field trip - down the Keys, didn't she tell you?’
‘Down the Keys?’ Nicholas’ voice rose with his anger and frustration. ‘Damn it, Tom. She was supposed to be here in France. She promised to come over for the launching of my new vessel. I've been trying to get in touch with her for a week now.’
‘She left Sunday,’ said Tom.
‘What is she playing at?’
‘That's a question she might want to ask you sometime.’
‘What does that mean, Tom?’
‘Well, before she took off, she came up here and had a good weep with Antoinette - you know, my wife. She plays den mother for every hysterical female within fifty miles, she does.’