A Dangerous Game (36 page)
Anything."
She very nearly said politics but checked herself.
That
would come later, when he trusted her.
"Talk about women, if you like.
Tell me about your girlfriend."
He wriggled on his chair.
"I don't have a girlfriend."
She smiled, and then deliberately pulled her chair closer to his so
that their knees were almost touching.
For a moment their eyes met.
"Do you mean your brother was telling the truth?"
she asked softly.
"You really are a virgin?"
She saw his body stiffen.
He looked away from her.
"My brother talks a lot of nonsense," he said.
"So you're not a virgin?"
she persisted.
"I do not think this is a fit subject for conversation," he said
frostily.
"Dear me."
She mocked him gently.
"Have I embarrassed you?"
"No," he said.
She leant back and stretched out her legs.
She saw his eyes flick
quickly to her knees, and then suddenly shift to a neutral spot, over
her shoulder.
"So you choose a subject," she suggested.
"But talk."
After a little more fidgeting he began, hesitantly at first, to discuss
films he had enjoyed.
Slowly he relaxed, and then became positively
animated.
Jacey prompted him with questions, and occasionally
corrected his grammar.
After half an hour, he was smiling at her.
"Well," she said, after he had explained at length why he admired Clint
Eastwood, 'that wasn't so difficult, was it?"
His smile disappeared.
He looked wary.
"What wasn't difficult?"
"Talking to Nicolas Schlemann's lover," she said.
"I really don't concern myself with other people's private lives," he
said.
"Then why were you so rude to me at the charity party?"
He twisted his long fingers together.
"I was not aware that I was rude."
"You know very well you were," she said.
She paused.
"Nicolas Schlemann's politics really aren't anything to do with me."
He stood up.
"Of course they aren't," he said, and she noted the suppressed anger in
his voice.
"You are a foreigner.
A visitor to our country.
You have come here to
do a job, and to get very well paid.
Why should you concern yourself with politics?"
Jacey knew that the
rapport they had built up while they were talking about films had now
disintegrated.
He picked up his leather folder.
"Thank you for your help, Dr.
Muldaire."
He turned towards the
door.
"Maybe next time we can discuss some of the books you enjoy?"
she
said.
He stopped by the door, and hesitated.
She knew that this was a
crucial moment.
If he was really interested in her sexually, he would
agree to come back again.
If not, any chance of starting a
relationship and any chance of learning anything about Lohaquin from
him would be lost.
"Perhaps tomorrow evening?"
she suggested.
It seemed like a very long
pause, and then he said:
"That would be very agreeable, Dr.
Muldaire."
Jacey was drafting out a report to send to Major Fairhaven.
It sounded
more optimistic than she actually felt.
She was certain that Leonardo
could provide her with a lead to the elusive Lohaquin, but winning his
trust was going to be difficult as long as she was with Nicolas.
And Nicolas showed no signs of wanting to end their relationship yet.
If anything, he was becoming more possessive.
His car had arrived
three times that week, with the minimum of warning, to drive her to
Police Headquarters.
Each time he had offered her a drink, and then
had abruptly unzipped and ordered her to get to work.
He had delayed
his orgasm as long as possible, forcing her to experiment with as many
techniques as she could, until her mouth was sore with the effort of
trying to satisfy him.
Afterwards he had used his hands on her,
rubbing her off with practised expertise.
She had tried to withhold
her own orgasm in order to prove that she could equal his iron
self-discipline.
But the closeness of his body turned her on as much
as his sexual manipulation, and each time she lost control far more
quickly than she intended.
When he had once triumphantly claimed: "You can't resist me for long,
can you?"
even the touch of his lips on her ear had sent a shudder of
need through her body.
Sexually, he looked, and behaved, in a way that
was guaranteed to arouse her.
And she had to admit, the knowledge that
he was both powerful and dangerous added spice to their meetings. But
God help anyone who actually fell in love with him, she thought.
She
could just imagine him taking full advantage of such a weakness.
He'd
probably arrange a fantastic wedding, invite the elite of Guachtal,
then leave the poor woman stranded at the altar.
He certainly had a sadistic streak.
Once that week he had kept her
waiting for an hour, and then arrived and taken her roughly and without
any preliminaries, stripping her clothes off as he manhandled her
towards the door that led to his bedroom.
And his behaviour had given
me a great orgasm, she remembered, contentedly.
Afterwards, when she
lay on the bed, exhausted but satisfied, she had made a token protest
about him being late, and he had looked down at her, with his familiar
crooked smile, and said: "But it was worth it, wasn't it?"
Yes, she realised, it was.
She stared at the computer screen, and her report.
When Nicolas
decided that he was no longer interested in her, hopefully she would be
able to write something more positive to Major Fairhaven.
Some
information about Lohaquin, and the extent of his strength, perhaps
even details obtained first-hand from a personal meeting with the
elusive rain forest rebel.
But what if Lohaquin turned out to be just a scruffy troublemaker, as
Nicolas had once claimed, with no back-up support, a man playing a game
he could not possibly win?
The thought depressed her.
She was not
against economic progress, but without protection the rain forest of
Guachtal would be destroyed by the road-builders and the loggers.
Lohaquin seemed to be the country's only hope against political
entrepreneurs like Nicolas Schlemann.
She typed in the necessary codes, sent her report, and pushed her
swivel chair back from her desk.
Jacey Muldaire, she told herself,
you're getting too involved in all this.
Leonardo would have been
surprised to find out exactly what type of job she had come to do as a
foreigner in Guachtal.
When you've got enough information, you can go
home, she thought, and before long Guachtal and all its problems will
be just another memory.
Be sensible.
Be professional.
You can't set
the world to rights all on your own.
Jacey's next meeting with Leonardo was almost as formal as the first.
He came in his usual light-coloured suit, with his thick, black hair
neatly combed, sat primly in front of her, and started a dry, academic
discussion of books that he read, sounding as if he was reciting
prepared notes.
When he had finished dissecting his third book on
political theory, she said, "Don't you ever read anything light and
entertaining, Leonardo?"
His dark eyes surveyed her reprovingly.
"I read to educate myself, Dr.
Muldaire."
"That's fine," she nodded.
"So have you read the Kama Sutra?"
She was gratified to see him wriggle uncomfortably.
"Certainly not," he said.
"It's educational," she teased.
"I am not a profligate like my brother Raoul," he said pompously.
"Oh, really, Leonardo," she scoffed.
"Stop talking like a dictionary.
It doesn't impress me at all.
Your brother's just a normal man.
He's
interested in women.
And sex."
She leant towards him.
There was a
sheen of sweat on his upper lip.
She had deliberately chosen to wear a
buttoned blouse with a deep vee-neck, and her cleavage was clearly
visible.
"A normal man," she repeated softly.
"Like you."
"I am nothing like my brother," he said stiffly.
"But you'd like to be, wouldn't you?"
she suggested.
"Not many women say no to Raoul."
"You did he said.
"You preferred Nicolas Schlemann."
The name sounded like an insult.
She smiled, and relaxed back in her chair.
"Well, he is very sexy," she said.
"And very powerful.
That's a potent mixture, Leonardo."
"He's a bastard," Leonardo said angrily.
"He exploits our country.
He has grown rich on the poverty of others.
We would be better off without him."
He stared at her defiantly.