Bella (16 page)
The Arabs were jolly and fat, and ate all Bella’s potatoes and steak at dinner. She had borrowed a pair of shorts and an orange T-shirt from Rosie, which was much too tight across the bust.
Her suntan was beginning to fade. She kept wishing she could think of witty things to say.
The Arabs wanted to make a night of it and kept muttering about strip clubs, but Lazlo managed to extricate himself and Bella about midnight. They didn’t speak as he drove across London. They stopped at a traffic light. Please make it stay red for ever, she prayed. She held her breath when they came to Hyde Park, but he turned left. She was appalled by the joy that flooded over her as she realized he was taking her back to his flat instead of hers.
As Lazlo poured out drinks for them both, she studied him carefully, examining the thick, black hair curling over his collar, the broad shoulders in the immaculate white suit, the sunburnt hands shooting soda into the glasses, and suddenly she felt quite giddy with lust.
What’s happening to me? she thought in horror. Five days ago I was madly in love with Steve, and now all I can do is long and long and long to be in bed with Lazlo.
As he handed her a drink, their hands touched. Jumping as though he’d burnt her, she seized the glass and bolted over to the window. It’s all right for him, she thought in panic. Riverboat gambler, with the morals of an alley cat, and a million light years of sexual experience under his belt. All he has to do is throw a little soft soap around and he’ll have me eating out of his hand.
Lazlo took off his jacket and hung it on the back of a chair.
‘You’re very quiet,’ he said. ‘What’s eating you?’
Bella took a deep breath. ‘I know you’re only being nice to me,’ she blurted out, ‘because you want me to fall for you. Just to make sure I won’t go back to Rupert.’
Lazlo sighed. ‘That’s a very silly, childish remark. I did hope you’d given up making remarks like that.’ Bella looked mutinous. There was a pause.
Then she stammered. ‘All right, I’m sorry. I was being ungracious.’
He smiled. ‘Good girl to apologize. Come over here.’
‘No,’ said Bella in a strangled voice. ‘I can’t do it, I can’t be another of your one-night-stands, just to amuse you for tonight because you can’t sleep.’
‘My dear child, what are you on about?’
The telephone rang. Lazlo took no notice.
‘Hadn’t you better answer it?’ Bella said shakily.
‘All right.’ He picked up the receiver, not taking his eyes off her face.
‘Hullo? Yes, Aunt Constance,
what
an unexpected pleasure.’ He grinned at Bella and raised his eyes to heaven.
what
an unexpected pleasure.’ He grinned at Bella and raised his eyes to heaven.
Suddenly the smile was wiped off his face.
‘What’s that?’ he snarled. ‘When did this happen? Why wasn’t I told before? Have you told the police? All right, I’ll come straight over.’
The scar down the side of his face was like a livid gash as he put down the receiver. His eyes were blazing with rage.
‘What’s the matter?’ said Bella.
‘Chrissie. She’s been kidnapped. They want two million pounds ransom.’
Chapter Sixteen
Lazlo stormed the great dark green Mercedes through the deserted London streets, shooting traffic lights, squealing the wheels round corners. Bella sat frozen with horror beside him.
‘But how on earth did it happen?’ she whispered.
‘Chrissie went out to post a letter at half past six and didn’t come back,’ said Lazlo. ‘Aunt Constance and Uncle Charles were out, and the first anyone realized she’d disappeared was when Steve turned up at nine to take her to some party, and she wasn’t there.’
‘Steve was taking her out?’ Bella said sharply.
Lazlo shot her a sidelong glance. ‘Now Angora’s gone to France,’ he said, ‘Steve seems to have transferred his rather liberal affections to Chrissie.’
Bella flushed. ‘What happened then?’
‘The kidnappers telephoned at eleven-thirty, saying they’d got Chrissie and they’d release her unhurt as long as we paid up two million pounds and didn’t call the police.’
Outwardly he was perfectly calm now. The harsh, swarthy face betrayed no emotion. But a muscle quivered in his cheek and his hand shook badly as he lit a cigarette.
If only I were Angora, thought Bella miserably, I’d fling my arms round him and find all the right things to say to comfort him.
She was further thrown by the fact that when they reached the Henriques’ house the door was answered by Rupert. He had obviously just got off the plane from Zurich. His luggage littered the hall.
‘Thank God you’ve arrived,’ he said to Lazlo. ‘Poor darling little Chrissie. What the hell are we going to do about her? Everyone’s being absolutely useless. My mother’s having hysterics at the thought of parting with two million pounds. My father’s shipped enough liquor to float the
QE2
and that snake Steve is . . .’ Suddenly he seemed to notice Bella and pulled himself together. ‘Oh, hullo,’ he said perfunctorily.
QE2
and that snake Steve is . . .’ Suddenly he seemed to notice Bella and pulled himself together. ‘Oh, hullo,’ he said perfunctorily.
In the drawing-room they found Charles standing in front of the fire, with glazed eyes, and Steve on the sofa, drinking brandy, and managing to look completely at home and the picture of concern at the same time. Constance, massive in maroon satin, strode down the room towards them.
‘Where on earth have you been, Lazlo? Out on the tiles as usual, I suppose,’ she added sourly. Then she glared at Bella. ‘And what’s she doing here? You must talk some sense into Rupert and Charles. They won’t call the police.’
‘Quite right,’ said Lazlo. ‘The fewer people who know about this, the better.’ He turned to Charles. ‘We’d better work out the fastest way to get the cash together.’
Constance looked appalled. ‘But we can’t raise that amount. We shall be ruined. I have enough trouble making ends meet as it is. Why don’t you let the police sort it out?’
‘If you call the police,’ said Lazlo brutally, ‘you’ll only panic the kidnappers into bumping Chrissie off.’
‘Don’t use those awful words,’ said Constance. ‘That child was like a daughter to me.’
‘Oh, Gawd,’ said Rupert rudely. ‘Don’t be such a hypocrite. You treated Chrissie like a slave. She never stopped running errands for you.’
Constance compressed her lips. ‘It was Chrissie’s fault in a way,’ she said to Steve. ‘I always told her if she went out without a hat she’d get picked up by undesirable types.’
‘Those men were lying in wait for her,’ said Rupert through clenched teeth. ‘Don’t be so bloody stupid.’
Constance turned purple. ‘How dare you speak to me like that?’ she said. ‘I’ve had enough to cope with. All the strain of Gay’s wedding, and then you getting engaged to that terrible . . .’ Then she remembered that Bella was in the room, and just stopped herself in time. But before anyone could feel embarrassed, she launched into a further hysterical tirade against Rupert.
Lazlo looked at her reflectively, and then said, in a surprisingly gentle voice, ‘This must be a terrible strain for you, Aunt Constance. You must be exhausted. I don’t expect you’ve had any dinner either. Why don’t you go to bed, and we’ll get someone to bring you something on a tray.’
‘How could you expect me to eat at a time like this?’ said Constance, but she looked mollified. ‘Perhaps I should keep my strength up. I suppose I could just manage a chicken sandwich.’
Steve got to his feet and gave Constance one of his devastating smiles. ‘I’ll go and have a word in the kitchen,’ he said.
‘You’re such a comfort to me, Steve,’ Constance could be heard saying as she went up the stairs.
Lazlo, Rupert and Charles immediately settled down to discuss raising the money, but Charles was obviously having difficulty concentrating.
‘I think I’ll hit the hay, too,’ he said, tottering towards the door. ‘Thank you for coping so admirably with Constance, Lazlo.’
As Charles left the room, Steve came back.
‘Half a capon and a vat of french fries are on their way upstairs to Constance. That should keep her quiet,’ he said to Lazlo. ‘I can’t tell you how appalled I am about Chrissie. I’ve only known her a fortnight, but it’s long enough to realize what a great kid she is.’
‘You didn’t realize anything of the kind,’ snapped Rupert. ‘You were just after her bread.’
‘Shut up, Rupe,’ said Lazlo, and went back to talking about money.
Bella studied Steve surreptitiously, and wondered how she could ever have loved him to such distraction. Everything about him revolted her now. He’s just a handsome hunk of nothing, she thought. Then she turned to Rupert, sitting in the window seat, with his head in his hands, completely gone to pieces. Then she looked at Lazlo. That muscle was still pounding in his cheek, and she suddenly realized the titanic dependability and strength of the man – and how much it must be costing him in sheer teeth-gritting self-control not to give way to sniping and panic like the others.
As unexpected as an extra step at the bottom of a flight of stairs, it came upon her. It was Lazlo she was in love with.
At that moment he looked at her. ‘You’re tired?’ he said.
‘I ought to go,’ she muttered, terrified that he might read what was in her mind.
‘I’ll drive you home,’ said Steve.
‘Rupert’ll take her,’ said Lazlo. ‘I want to pick your brains about raising cash in Buenos Aires, Steve.’
Bella didn’t speak on the way home, desperately trying to control the raging emotions inside her. But when they reached the flat, she asked Rupert if he wanted to come up for a drink.
He shook his head. ‘I must get back. Oh, hell, Bella, what am I going to do? I took Chrissie so much for granted, treating her like a tiresome kid sister, and now, suddenly, she’s gone . . .’
‘You realize you’re in love with her.’
He looked up, his face haggard. ‘Yes, I am. I thought I was going to shoot myself last week because you wouldn’t marry me, but now Chrissie’s in such terrible danger, I know it’s her I love, and I don’t suppose I’ll ever see her again.’
Bella put her arms round him. ‘There, there, it’s going to be all right. Lazlo’ll find her for you.’
‘Oh, he’ll get her back if anyone can,’ said Rupert. ‘With all his mates in the underworld, he can pull strings like nobody’s business, but I’ve got a horrible feeling this isn’t a straightforward money kidnapping, that it’s all got something to do with Miguel Rodriguez.’
Bella’s heart missed a beat. ‘The man Lazlo killed?’
Rupert nodded. ‘Miguel’s brother, Juan, has been trying to pay Lazlo back ever since.’
‘What was the real story behind it?’
‘Miguel and Juan Rodriguez ran a vice ring in South America. They had Buenos Aires so completely sewn up. The police were terrified of them. Miguel had a much younger wife called Maria, whom he treated like dirt. She and Lazlo fell in love and had a raging affair. Miguel found out and pulled a knife on Lazlo in a bar. There was a fight. Miguel was killed.
‘The next day – although no-one could pin it on him – Juan had acid thrown in Maria’s face. Her beauty was ruined. She couldn’t bear Lazlo to see her like that. A few days later she committed suicide. The police were too scared of Juan to do anything about it, but Lazlo and he have been stalking each other like a pair of tigers ever since. I think it’s Juan’s boys who have nicked Chrissie, and if they have, they’ll never let her go alive, however much we fork out. That’s what’s crucifying Lazlo.’
‘Was she very beautiful, Miguel’s wife?’ said Bella, trying to sound casual.
‘Maria? Oh, absolutely ravishing. I don’t think Lazlo’s ever really got over her committing suicide.’
After she’d let herself into her flat, Bella sat for hours, lacerated with jealousy at the thought of Maria Rodriguez.
Chapter Seventeen
Two days dragged by with no news of Chrissie. Bella tried to throw herself into rehearsals, but she could think of nothing but Lazlo and the hell he must be going through. She also tried not to feel disappointed when he didn’t telephone her. He must have far too much on his mind.
On the evening of the third day she came out of the theatre absolutely dead beat. She had rehearsed all day, followed by a gruelling performance of
Othello
in the evening. The audience had been as unreceptive as blotting paper, particularly a coach load from the Mothers’ Union in the stalls who had talked and laughed through the last act.
Othello
in the evening. The audience had been as unreceptive as blotting paper, particularly a coach load from the Mothers’ Union in the stalls who had talked and laughed through the last act.
It was a dark, hot, sultry night, with no stars and a suggestion of thunder. She was wearing only a skimpy red and white spotted dress. The smell of frying garlic and onions from a nearby Italian restaurant made her feel slightly sick. She decided to walk part of the way home. She passed a telephone box and resisted the temptation to go inside and ring Lazlo to find out if he had any news of Chrissie. She would be too tongue-tied to do it properly.
You
must
stop thinking about him, she told herself angrily.
must
stop thinking about him, she told herself angrily.
She turned right into a road only dimly lit by a few street lamps. Suddenly, she saw a cigarette glow in the dark and a figure stepped towards her.
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