A Dangerous Game (32 page)

sight of ingrid's androgynous body, dispelled Jacey's lethargy.
 
She

sat up quickly and her action caused ingrid to jerk back.

"No," Jacey said.

"I'm sorry but no."

ingrid looked hurt rather than angry.

"I thought you were enjoying it."

Jacey felt confused, and a little guilty.
 
She had been enjoying

Ingrid's caresses, without actually connecting them to the thought of

any kind of follow-up sex.
 
The massage had been pleasant: even the

touch of Ingrid's lips on her nipples had not repulsed her.
 
Perhaps,

she thought, that was because I had not really been picturing Ingrid

there.
 
I was just enjoying the sensations.
 
But the sight of ingrid's

body had brought her back to reality.
 
She felt no desire to touch

Ingrid, or indeed to have Ingrid touch her, in any more intimate way.

And if she let ingrid continue, she knew very well what would follow,

knowing Ingrid's predilection for oral sex.

"I'm sorry."
 
Jacey reached for her blouse.

"I'm sorry, but I can't -' She was surprised to see Ingrid smile.

"That's all right.
 
I'm sorry too.
 
But we are both adults.
 
If this is

not for you, then we will never mention it again."

"You must think I'm the worst kind of tease," Jacey said.

"No."
 
ingrid shrugged.

"Sometimes you don't know what you want until you try it.
 
I have

always liked women, but I wasn't sure about men.

Then I fucked a few, and decided that I could like that, too.
 
It was

different, but still good."
 
She stood up unselfconsciously and reached

for her shirt.

"The important thing is not to be ashamed.
 
And to be honest.
 
You have

been honest, and we will still be friends."

Despite Ingrid's apparently graceful acceptance, Jacey found it

difficult to believe that her rejection would not put a strain on their

relationship.
 
But the next morning Ingrid greeted her as cheerfully as

ever, and later that week handed her a heavy vellum envelope which

turned out to contain an invitation from Carlos Marquez.

"A garden party?"
 
Jacey read the invitation and looked up at Ingrid in

amazement.

"Why is Carlos inviting me to a garden party?
 
I didn't think he even

liked me."

"He probably doesn't," Ingrid said.

"But Raoul does, and the invitation comes from him.
 
He has invited

both of us."
 
She smiled.

"You should feel complimented.
 
Normally such an invitation would cost

you several weeks' wages.
 
It's a fundraising party, to send food

parcels to the forest Indians."

"Carlos is involved in that?"
 
Jacey asked in surprise.

"It's a tradition," Ingrid said.

"Started by his mother.
 
She must have been an interesting person. It's

a pity she died.
 
I would have liked to meet her."

"I met her aunt," Jacey remembered.

"She said Juanita was still alive."

"Well, perhaps she is," Ingrid said.

"She was never found, was she?"

"It's easy enough to lose a body in the rain forest," Jacey said.

"Yes."
 
Ingrid nodded.

"Nicolas Schlemann could certainly arrange it."

"Why would he want to?"
 
Jacey asked.

"He doesn't like opposition," Ingrid said.

"And especially not from women.
 
I was told that after her husband

died, Juanita made no secret about giving money to Lohaquin's

followers.
 
That was brave of her, don't you think?"

Jacey was immediately interested.

"Very brave, if it's true.
 
It could be a rumour."

"Well, the fundraising for the food parcels is true," Ingrid said.

"Clearly this lady wanted to help the Indians."

Jacey tapped the invitation card against her palm as she thought.
 
If

Juanita Marquez really was involved with Lohaquin, Raoul might know

more about the elusive rain forest rebel than he was willing to

admit.

He's clearly forgiven me for snubbing him.
 
Perhaps I should start to

cultivate his friendship.
 
And when Nicolas gets tired of me, I'll have

a willing shoulder to cry on, and maybe a lead to Lohaquin, too.

Having only seen the Marquez villa at night, Jacey realised she had

totally misjudged the extent of the grounds.
 
They were far larger than

she expected.
 
A huge marquee, liberally decorated with flowers, housed

a buffet and bar.
 
A band played under an elegant, striped canopy.
 
A

wooden dance floor surrounded by poles festooned with fairy lights, had

been laid over the grass.
 
Several couples were already dancing to

gentle, traditional tunes.

Jacey had tried to sound Paulo out about the food parcels, and found

him unimpressed.

"Yes, it is a kind idea," he admitted.

"Senora Marquez was a kind lady.
 
But these Indians only go hungry

because they are forced to live in reservations.
 
They are people of

the rain forest.
 
If they were left in the rain forest, they would not

need help to eat."

"So why were they moved?"
 
Ingrid asked.

"Because they were in the way," Paulo said.

"There were many rumours that the trees would be cut down."

"But it didn't happen," Jacey said.

"There hasn't been any logging in Guachtal: Why haven't the Indians

been allowed to go back?"

She saw Paulo's hands tighten on the wheel.
 
There was brief silence

before he replied.

"Because it will happen.
 
It is only a matter of time.
 
Those who want

to make money out of the trees will make it happen.
 
When the roads are

built, the trees will be destroyed, and more Indians will be moved.

Perhaps my village, too.
 
And then there will be no rain forest

left."

"And Lohaquin opposes this?"
 
Ingrid asked.

"Many people oppose it," Paulo said.

"Not only Lohaquin.
 
Not only the Indians.
 
Many people."

"But it will make your county prosperous," Ingrid said.

"It will make certain people prosperous," Paulo answered.

"Like Nicolas Schlemann?"
 
Ingrid suggested.

"Certain people," Paulo repeated.

"But not the poor people.
 
And not the Indians."
 
Despite some gentle

probing, he refused to discuss the matter any further.
 
Jacey saw his

eyes in the rear view mirror glancing towards her now and again, and

knew her presence was making him uncomfortable.
 
That's what you get

for being Nicolas Schlemann's woman, she thought.

Later, as they mingled with the party guests, Ingrid said: "Do you

really think the Indians will benefit from any of this?"

"If Raoul has anything to do with it, they'll get their food parcels,"

Jacey said.

"If you can call that a benefit."

"I'm sure they'll adjust to their new life," h-igrid said, 'in time."

"They shouldn't have to adjust," Jacey responded angrily.

"They should never have been forced to leave their villages in the

first place."

"Your good friend Nicolas would probably argue that this is progress,"

Ingrid said tartly.

"I'd call it vandalism," Jacey answered.

"There must be a better way to boost the economy than by destroying

something irreplaceable."

"Don't let Nicolas hear you say that," Ingrid said lightly.

"I'm sure he'll get a lovely handout from the men who build the roads,

and from those who do the logging."

Jacey knew that this was probably true.
 
And the chattering guests, who

had bought the expensive tickets to attend this charitable party, would

also probably benefit from new roads and a timber indus try.

What a lot of hypocrites, she thought angrily.

Another thought occurred to her.
 
What about the British government?

Why did Major Fairhaven really want information about the political

situation in Guachtal?
 
Because he would have to advise the government

on whether or not the country was an economically sound proposition for

investment.
 
We're all as bad as one another, she thought, feeling

suddenly depressed.
 
Now I know how Lohaquin must feel.

"So you both managed to find time to visit our little jamboree?"

Jacey turned, and faced Raoul Marquez.
 
He was dressed in an elegant,

pale linen suit, with an open-necked shirt, as if he was about to pose

for a glossy fashion magazine.
 
He kissed Jacey's hand, and then turned

to Ingrid.

"Are you going to make me a happy man?
 
Are you going to stay with me

tonight?"

"You don't want a wicked woman like me Ingrid laughed.

"I would corrupt you."

"But I would enjoy that," Raoul said earnestly.
 
Jacey glanced over

Raoul's shoulder and saw a tall, slim young man walking towards them.