Читать книгу Diamond Fire - Anne Mather - Страница 7

ALEX doubted he would have noticed her if she hadn’t been having an argument with the clerk at the car rentals desk. She had apparently travelled from Los Angeles on the same flight he had, but he hadn’t noticed her on the plane. Which wasn’t too surprising. The United Airlines 747 had been full, and unless she had been sitting right next to him the chances of his recognising a stranger among so many passengers was slight.

Besides, he had spent most of the five-hour journey studying Morales’s report. It was inconclusive, he knew, but he had hoped it might offer some clue the other man had missed. It didn’t. The trail the investigator had followed to the mainland dried up in San Diego, and, although Alex was pretty sure Virginia was heading for the Mexican border, without a definite lead it was futile for him to pursue it.

In consequence, he had left it in Morales’s hands and flown back to Honolulu. There was always the chance that there might be some message at the house; some means through which he might be able to contact her. And that was how he came to be standing in the arrivals lounge, waiting for his own lift, idly watching the woman crossing swords with the Chinese girl at the car rentals agency.

It was her hair that held his interest. He had never seen hair quite that colour before. It was red, a rich vibrant red that seemed to throb with a life of its own. And, although it was presently coiled in an increasingly precarious knot on top of her head, he could imagine how it would look if it were loose.

Not that he was interested, Alex thought ruefully, hardly able to remember when he had last felt any real sexual stimulation. In recent years, Virginia’s frantic demands for sex had destroyed any desire he had felt to make love with her, and even when he found out what was wrong with her the feelings he had once had for her were gone.

Lately he had begun to wonder if the girl he had thought he had married had ever existed outside his own imagination. He suspected that, as far as Virginia was concerned, marrying him had just been a means to an end. She had needed a home; money; security; and he had had it all. Quid pro quo.

Of course, it hadn’t been enough; he realised that now. What Virginia had been seeking didn’t exist either, though her methods of dealing with it had left him cold. Perhaps it was his fault, as she had claimed. After six years of marriage perhaps he should have felt more responsibility. But there were limits to his sympathy; limits to his credibility; limits to his patience. Virginia didn’t want to change; she would never change. And he was not the gullible idiot he had been when she had married him. Five years of trying to stop someone from destroying herself had seen to that.

Even so, when he’d left for New York a week ago he had not realised how near the edge she was. If he had, he told himself now, he would never have gone. But he had a business to run; he had commitments. And babysitting Virginia could be a full-time job.

Nevertheless, the night before he’d left she had seemed almost normal. They had actually held a conversation during dinner, and he certainly hadn’t suspected what she was planning. If they had had a row he might have been on his guard, but they hadn’t. It had all been perfectly amicable. Which should have been a warning; but it hadn’t.

He caught his breath as fear gripped his stomach. He had never dreamt she might leave the island. In spite of everything, she liked the comfort of their home, the sybaritic delight of wearing fine clothes, of sleeping between silk sheets. If nothing else, Virginia appreciated luxury, and there’d be precious little of that where she was going.

But it wasn’t fear for his wife that caused the knife to turn inside him. She might be desperate, but Virginia could look out for herself. It was their five-year-old daughter, whom Virginia had taken with her, who was causing Alex so much pain. The daughter Virginia had never wanted, until she could use her against him.

‘Signore, I am here.’

Carlo Ventura’s quiet voice distracted him, and Alex turned to the man, who had worked for the Conti family since before Alex himself was born, with enforced civility.

‘Carlo,’ he said, inclining his head, noticing as he did so that the red-haired woman had apparently abandoned her efforts to make any headway with the car rentals agency, and was presently striding out of the building. She had nice legs, too, reflected Alex unguardedly, and then, impatient that he could think of such things at a time like this, he let Carlo take his briefcase, and fell into step beside him. ‘Has there been any news?’

‘No, signore.’ Carlo shook his greying head regretfully. He was several inches shorter than his employer, and he had to look up to meet Alex’s dark eyes. ‘No word at all, signore. I am sorry.’

Alex’s silence was eloquent of his feelings. They emerged into the moist air of the afternoon with a shared sense of frustration. There was only so much he could do, thought Alex, sloughing the jacket of his silver-grey suit and draping it over his shoulder. With the best will in the world, he could only guess at Virginia’s destination. And in a city the size of San Diego it was all too easy to disappear. A woman and a child travelling alone were not conspicuous. He supposed he ought to be grateful that she was on her own. If some other man had been involved, what price his daughter’s safety then? All he could do was leave it in Morales’s hands, until he found a lead that was hopeful.

The dark blue Mercedes that Carlo had driven to the airport to meet him was waiting just outside. Although it was being eyed rather contentiously by the traffic policeman sitting astride his motor cycle by the taxi-stand, it hadn’t as yet received a ticket, and Alex was relieved. He raised his hand in greeting as he recognised the uniformed patrolman who had granted the dispensation, and as he did so he saw the redhead again, this time climbing into the back of one of the cabs that plied for hire between the airport and Waikiki. He guessed she was one of the many holiday-makers the islands attracted throughout the year. There was no real ‘season’ in Hawaii, and tourists arrived at all times of the year. Most started their holiday in Oahu, and Waikiki was still the most popular resort in the whole of the Pacific.

He noticed she wasn’t wearing a lei around her neck, and he wondered if she had visited the islands before. He, too, had sidestepped the proffered garland, but in his case it was familiarity, rather than any desire to offend the smiling wahine. Most people found the custom of being greeted with a necklace of orchids rather charming. But evidently her arrival had not been all it should be.

And then, irritated with himself again for allowing his attention to be diverted, Alex tossed his jacket on to the back seat of the Mercedes and slid behind the wheel. He wished he had only the frustration of not being able to find a hire-car on his mind. How nice it would be, he thought, to put everything but his own personal needs out of his mind.

Carlo was busy supervising the porter, who had accompanied them outside, opening the trunk and having the man stow Alex’s suitcase inside. Then he walked round to join his employer. ‘OK, signore,’ he said, slipping into the seat beside him. And Alex put the car into gear, and relaxed as the powerful engine carried them away from the airport.

It was good to be in control of his transportation again, even if he was not in control of his destiny, Alex thought wryly. He had always believed he was in control of both, but recent events had taught him that nothing in life was sure.

He drove into the city first. As Carlo had said there was no news at the house, he wanted to call at his office on the off chance that there might be a message there. From Morales perhaps, he reflected hopefully. It was more than twenty-four hours since he had spoken to the investigator, and he had told him to keep him informed of any development, no matter how small.

The route into the city took him along Nimitz Highway, past the familiar sight of the Dole Pineapple Cannery, and into downtown Honololu. The syrupy scent of the cannery that assailed his nostrils as he drove over the Kapalama Canal bridge was vaguely reassuring, but for once the sight of the pineapple-shaped water tank failed to give him a lift. Even the marina, where his own yacht, the Maroso, was moored, warranted only a passing glance, the nodding heads of the sailing craft like flamingos against the blue horizon.

Although the skies out at the airport had been dull and overcast, Honolulu and nearby Waikiki were bathed in unbroken sunshine. Which was the reason the island was so popular, Alex knew. It seldom, if ever, rained on Waikiki Beach, and the soft showers that did fall melted in temperatures that soared into the eighties. Indeed, it was another of the island’s boasts that the gentle breezes that played along its shoreline never allowed the heat to become oppressive. It was hot and often humid, but never unbearable.

The Conti building stood in Ala Wai Boulevard, not far from the First Hawaiian Bank. It was one of the many skyscrapers that had begun to dot the Honolulu skyline in recent years, and it mingled congenially with the smaller though more architecturally impressive buildings around it. Visitors were always intrigued by the way old buildings jostled cheek-by-jowl with modern constructions, with parks, churches and palm trees offering peaceful oases of shade.

Carlo waited in the car while Alex went up to his office. The Conti Corporation, which had been founded by his grandfather between the wars, had now expanded its operations into most of the major industries of the world, and the building was a hive of activity. As managing director, Alex was its senior executive, with a highly skilled team of consultants working with him. His father, retired now but still active, had retained the title of chief executive officer, but it was a nominal position at best. To all intents and purposes, Alex was in charge, and he had the final word in any controversy.

However, since Virginia had disappeared, Alex had spent little time in the office, and he had been glad to leave any decision-making to someone else. With interests that ranged from import and export to logging, from coal-mines in Europe to steel-mills in Asia, from oil in Canada to emeralds in Columbia, the company would have been impossible to operate successfully without his delegating responsibility. It was one of the things his father had taught him, after his grandfather had died of a stroke at the age of forty-nine, and he had been glad of that knowledge during the past week. Apart from anything else, he wouldn’t have trusted his own judgement in his present state of distraction, and it wasn’t fair to make mistakes when so many people’s livelihoods were involved.

‘Mr Conti!’

Sophy Ling, one of a pair of secretaries who occupied the outer office, greeted him with genuine warmth, and Alex forced a smile in response. ‘Hi, Sophy,’ he said, nodding at her and her companion. ‘Have there been any messages for me?’

Sophy looked as regretful as she felt, and Alex guessed that the news of Virginia’s disappearance had percolated throughout the whole building by this time. He had hoped to avoid the inevitable publicity it would create, and as yet he was not being accosted by reporters wanting to know what was going on. But it would come, he knew it. Which was another reason for keeping away from the Conti building.

‘Is Grant in his office?’ he asked now, avoiding any overt expressions of sympathy, and Sophy’s companion, Rose Fraser, said that he was. Grant Blaisdell was his cousin and his personal assistant, and in Alex’s absence he had been running the operation. ‘OK. I’ll be in Mr Blaisdell’s office, if you need me.’

‘Mr Conti …’

Evidently Sophy hadn’t got the message, and Alex had to steel his features as he turned to speak to her. ‘Yes?’

‘We—that is, Rose and I—we were sorry to hear about Mrs Conti,’ Sophy ventured tentatively. ‘If—if there’s anything we can do …’

‘There’s not.’ Alex managed to keep his tone pleasant with an effort. ‘But thanks anyway. It’s appreciated.’

Grant’s office adjoined the executive suite, a room only marginally smaller than Alex’s own office. Like his, it had a magnificent view over the whole of Honolulu, with the familiar sight of the Aloha Tower marking the waterfront.

Grant himself rose from behind a square mahogany desk as Alex came into the room. The son of Alex’s father’s sister, Grant owed his appearance more to his father’s New England ancestry than to his mother’s Italian forebears, and in consequence, although he was as tall as Alex, he was much lighter skinned. But since Grant had joined the company five years ago the two men had worked well together, and Alex knew his aunt was relieved that her son had finally found his niche in the Conti empire. Until then he had been employed in a variety of occupations, most of which Alex would have put under the heading of free-loading. Grant hadn’t wanted to work, and for six years after college he had wandered all around western Europe and the mainland, only coming home when he’d needed funds.

But five years ago he had had a change of heart, and Alex had not been averse to taking him on as his assistant. He was family, after all, and it just so happened that his former assistant had left at around the same time, creating an opening. Of course, Alex knew that several senior members of the board had had reservations about the appointment, but so far Grant hadn’t let him down. On the contrary, he seemed keen to learn everything he could about the corporation, and, as Alex was fond of his aunt, he was glad his reports were always favourable.

‘Alex,’ Grant said now, shaking his cousin’s hand and gesturing towards the couch set beneath the almost floor-to-ceiling windows. ‘Is there any news?’

Alex grimaced, and eschewed the offer of a seat. ‘I was about to ask you that,’ he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. ‘I left Morales in San Diego yesterday. I haven’t heard from him since.’

‘San Diego?’ Grant’s blue eyes widened. ‘Is that where Virginia is?’

‘I doubt it.’ Alex was laconic. He felt weary, and he didn’t honestly feel up to a long discussion. ‘My guess is she’s heading for Mexico. It’s the only thing that makes any sense.’

‘Ah.’ Grant nodded, aware of what his cousin was thinking. ‘So … can I get you a drink?’

‘No, thanks.’ Alex shook his head. ‘I just called in to tell you I’m back, and that I’ll come into the office tomorrow morning. Right now I’m going to go home and try to get some rest. I feel as though I could sleep for a week.’

‘So, why don’t you?’ exclaimed Grant swiftly. ‘There’s nothing spoiling here, and I can handle anything that comes up. With Rose and Sophy on my case I wouldn’t be allowed to make any mistakes. And you do look tired, Alex. I mean it. Take a break.’

Alex took his hands out of his pockets and walked to the door. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he said, ignoring Grant’s snort of resignation. He managed to grin. ‘There are only five years between us, cugino. I’m not ready for retirement yet.’

‘OK.’ Grant raised his hands defensively, palms outwards. ‘I guess I should know better than to try to persuade you. But, just in case you do have a change of heart, I’ll be here if you need me.’

‘Thanks.’

Alex’s inclination of the head was grateful, but faintly ironic. He had the feeling that, barring a miracle, he would make it into the office the following day. Without Maria the house was so empty, and he couldn’t bear the silent sympathy in the faces of his servants. Besides, he hated the inactivity, the sense of helplessness he felt at not knowing where his daughter was, where Virginia had taken her. At least at work he could find some escape from the fears he had for her safety.

His own office offered no more reassurance. His desk, cleared of all but his personal correspondence, looked bare and unnaturally tidy. The reports and papers that usually cluttered its leather surface had been passed to someone else to deal with, and the room seemed to emphasise the emptiness he felt. Damn it, he thought, if he could lay his hands on Virginia now he’d be tempted to wring her neck.

The phone rang as he was standing by his desk, his clenched fists balled against the wood. The sound was doubly startling in the quiet room, and he pounced on the receiver, his stomach muscles clenching. Could this possibly be Virginia? Had his rage against her somehow brought her to the phone?

It was his father, and Alex sank down into the soft leather chair that abutted his desk as Vittorio Conti’s harsh tones rang in his ears.

‘Alex? E tu?’

‘ Si, Papa. ’

Alex answered in the tongue his father always used on the telephone. It was Vittorio Conti’s belief that one never knew who might be listening in to one’s call, and in a country where English was the common language there were obviously fewer people who understood Italian. That was why he insisted that his son be as fluent in that language as he was in his own, and why Alex didn’t hesitate before responding in the same way.

Now Vittorio continued, ‘I tried the house first, but Mama Lu said you still hadn’t arrived from the airport. I guessed you must have called in to speak to Grant. Is there still no news of their whereabouts?’

‘No.’ Alex was abrupt, but he couldn’t help it. The bitter disappointment he had felt upon first hearing his father’s voice and not Virginia’s still gripped him, and it was with the utmost effort that he relayed a résumé of Morales’s report to Vittorio.

‘San Diego, eh?’ His father repeated the name with a comparable note of frustration in his voice. ‘What in hell does she think she’s doing? She must know that sooner or later we’ll catch up with her.’

‘I don’t think Virginia does think. At least, not with her brain,’ said Alex wearily. ‘She just acts; on instinct, mostly. She wants something, and she goes after it. She doesn’t care who she hurts in the process.’

‘But to take Maria——’

‘Look, Papa, I’d really rather not prolong this discussion, if you don’t mind. I’m bone-tired, and I’d really like to get home. I’ll phone you and Mom later, if there’s any news. OK?’

‘OK.’ The old man seemed to sense that his son was nearing the end of his tether, and he backed off. ‘I’ll expect to hear from you later, then.’

‘Yes, later,’ said Alex gratefully. ‘Ciao, Papa. And—thanks for calling.’

Outside again, Alex breathed in deeply the cooling air of late afternoon. As the sun sank in the sky, the city streets became cool canyons of shade, and, in spite of his internal turmoil, Alex couldn’t prevent the sense of relief he felt to be back on the island. Increasingly hectic though Honolulu was becoming, it was his home, and he loved it.

Carlo didn’t do him the injustice of bothering to ask if he had learned anything new. He knew that if Alex had heard anything he would have told him, and he remained silent as his employer drove north along Kapahulu Avenue. The roads around the capital were busy with a mixture of tourists and home-going commuters, but, once beyond the city’s limits, Alex could relax. The powerful Mercedes would have eaten up the miles, but he kept it within the speed-limit. He was in no real hurry to reach home, whatever he had told his father.

He took the main highway across the southern flank of the island, and then drove north again along the coast road. The scenery here was spectacular, but although Alex saw the long golden stretches of sand, with the pale aquamarine water creaming on the shoreline, he was in no mood to appreciate them. He was remembering his daughter’s fear of her mother’s moods, and that without Mama Lu to intercede on her behalf she was vulnerable.

The Conti estate lay just beyond the Waiahole Valley, where orchids and anthurium blossoms grew in such profusion. It was a farming area, with fruit orchards and quiet meadows grazed by handsome horses, defying the hand of the developer. But Alex’s home was on the seaward side of the road, and the curving track that led from Kamehameha Highway resisted any efforts to infiltrate his privacy. Besides, at the gates to the estate he employed a very efficient security staff to ensure that no unwelcome visitor got in. The pity of it was, he thought now, that they had had no jurisdiction to prevent anyone from getting out.

A lush jungle of palms and wild hibiscus formed a natural barrier between the private road that led to the estate, and the manicured lawns beyond. Alex noticed that the white flowers had come into bloom in his absence; combined with the more familiar red blossoms of the hibiscus the effect was startling. Like blood on white linen, he reflected fancifully, and then dragged his thoughts from the precipice where they were heading. Virginia wasn’t going to defeat him, he told himself grimly. But the knife turned just the same.

Kumaru, his house—the house that had once belonged to his father, but which Alex’s parents had moved out of when Vittorio had retired—stood on a rise, with the ocean at its back. It had been Alex’s home for as long as he could remember; firstly as a much-loved only child, and then later, after his marriage to Virginia, they had occupied the self-contained wing that his father had had built on to the main building. Alex suspected that his mother and father had not originally intended to move out of their home. But circumstances had changed their minds. Although they had never criticised Virginia in his presence, it had become increasingly obvious that the two households could not exist side by side. Virginia had made no secret of her dislike of his parents, and, although they loved their only grandchild, when Vittorio had given up his active role in the corporation they had moved into a smaller house, nearer the city.

The house itself was a long, sprawling, ranch-style dwelling, with most of the rooms on the ground floor. But, as the house was built on sloping land, a lowerground floor gave space for what had used to be his mother’s garden room, a sauna and gymnasium where Alex expunged much of his frustration, and a play-room for Maria. Mama Lu’s quarters were there, too, next to the play-room. The old Hawaiian woman, who had been first his nurse and was now Maria’s, also acted as unpaid housekeeper, for Virginia had never been interested in looking after her family. It was all ‘too boring’: her words, not his. Besides, why should she bother about such things, when that ‘stupid old woman’ was perfectly willing to do it?

Things had changed a lot since the days when his mother had taken a pride in supervising the running of her home, Alex thought now, bringing the car to a halt on the pebbled forecourt. Although she had been a haole, or a newcomer to the island, having been brought up in New England and coming to the island for the first time when she married Vittorio, Sonya Conti came of good middle-European stock. In consequence, she had never been prepared to leave her household in the hands of servants. She had been there, ever vigilant, caring for her home and her family, creating the comfortable ambience her husband had needed after a day at the office.

Not so Virginia. Alex had invariably been greeted by some complaint about himself, or Maria, or one of the servants, and her ever-present craving for excitement had soured the whole atmosphere of the house. Indeed, were it not for the fact that she had taken with her the one person Alex loved more than anyone else in the world, he might have welcomed her disappearance. Though, he conceded wearily, knowing what he did about her mental condition, he doubted he could have abandoned his responsibilities completely. Family ties were too strong, and his upbringing had been such that he would not, in all conscience, have left her to her fate.

Now he thrust open his door to get out, but before he could pull his jacket from the back seat a small baldheaded man came rushing out of the house. Dressed in baggy black trousers and a dark green mandarin jacket, his olive-skinned face alight with animation, he came crunching across the pebbled drive towards the car. It was Wong Lee, Alex’s steward and Mama Lu’s husband, and Alex felt his stomach tighten at the probable cause for his excitement.

‘Padrone!’ he exclaimed, skidding to a halt beside the car. ‘Padrone, you have a visitor.’

Alex endeavoured to control his quickening heartbeat. ‘A visitor?’ he echoed, as Carlo, too, got out of the automobile. ‘What kind of a visitor?’

‘What kind of a visitor?’ Wong Lee’s eyes registered his confusion. ‘What kind of visitor were you expecting?’

‘The padrone was not expecting a visitor,’ snapped Carlo shortly, his superiority of service giving the edge of impatience to his voice. ‘What the padrone means is—is his visitor on business, or pleasure?’

‘Thank you, Carlo, I can handle this,’ Alex inserted swiftly, sensing the potential for conflict and in no mood to encourage it. The fact that Mama Lu was still apt to spread her favours rather freely sometimes created other problems, and, although both Carlo and Wong Lee were in their sixties, sexual rivalry knew no age limit. ‘Who is the visitor, Lee?’ His palms felt damp. ‘Is it someone from the mainland?’

‘Yes, sir,’ replied Wong Lee, giving Carlo Ventura a triumphant look. ‘She says she’s Mrs Ginia’s cousin. She says Mrs Ginia invited her to come visit.’

Alex’s brows descended. ‘Virginia’s cousin?’ he echoed disbelievingly, and then, before either Wong Lee or Carlo could make any further comment, he tossed his jacket over one shoulder and strode towards the house. Virginia’s cousin, he brooded as he mounted the two shallow steps that led up to the veranda. He couldn’t remember Virginia ever mentioning any female cousin, and he was pretty sure he hadn’t met her at the wedding. The marriage, which had taken place in London, had been a fairly large affair, it was true, and it was possible that there had been cousins of Virginia’s there that he had never been introduced to. But, as far as he knew, Virginia’s mother had been an only child—much the same as Virginia, he reflected now, with similar characteristics—and her father had supposedly died in the dim and distant past. Indeed, so far as Virginia’s relatives had been concerned, they had been rather thin on the ground, and the majority of the guests had been friends and acquaintances, and his own rather large circle of relations.

So, who was this woman? he wondered grimly, tossing his jacket on to a polished Japanese chest in the hall, and raising questioning eyebrows at Mama Lu, who had heard the car and was making her own, less energetic way to greet him. At something approaching two hundred and fifty pounds in weight, the elderly Polynesian woman was not disposed to hurry anywhere, and Alex had sometimes wondered at her apparent irresistibility to both Carlo and her husband. In Alex’s estimation, she could have crushed either of them between her massive thighs, but evidently he was not privy to her undoubted sexual attractions.

Now, however, he was not in the mood to consider such anomalies, and when she opened her mouth to say, ‘There’s a lady waiting to see you,’ Alex cut her off unceremoniously.

‘I know,’ he said, breathing deeply. ‘Who is she, and where is she?’

‘Well … she says she’s your wife’s cousin,’ murmured Mama Lu, glancing towards the louvred doors that led into the parlour. ‘I put her in there.’

‘Thanks.’

Although Alex knew that the old woman would have liked to accompany him into the parlour, his tone was dismissing, and Mama Lu knew it. But as she turned away Alex saw her reddened eyes, and, realising she was as upset over what had happened as he was, he made a rueful gesture.

‘I’ll let you know why she’s here as soon as I find out,’ he promised, and Mama Lu’s fat cheeks wobbled a little as she summoned up a tearful smile.

‘Shall I make some tea?’ she suggested, and, although tea was the last thing Alex needed, he nodded.

‘Yes,’ he said, guessing she needed something to do. ‘That’s a good idea.’

Mama Lu inclined her head, and ambled away towards the kitchen as Alex took hold of the handles of the doors. Then, forcing away the uneasy feeling of impending disaster, he slid the doors aside.

The young woman who was waiting for him was standing by the windows. Which meant she had probably observed his arrival, he thought grimly, giving her plenty of time to prepare for this meeting while he was still on edge at learning of her presence in his house. Was that why she appeared so calm and composed now, when only hours before she had been the one who had lost her temper? he wondered warily. For it was the woman from the airport, Alex saw instantly. The redhead who had been having the argument with the girl at the car rentals desk. The woman who had attracted his unwilling attention long before he had known who she was—or who she claimed to be.