Dangerous Deception (8 page)

Breaking a lengthening silence, Morgan said, “Clare tells me she's not interested in fishing or golf. How about you?”

Philip turned to look at him. “What? Oh – I do fish a little, yes.”

Out in the hall the lunch gong sounded. As we rose to our feet, Philip's hand on my arm was like a vice. “Have you arranged for me to sit at your table?”

“Er – no, I – didn't think.”

We reached the dining-room, where Morgan left us with a cheerful “See you!” to go to his own table. Harry the waiter turned from the serving hatch and I saw the leap of interest in his eyes.

Philip said crisply, “Would you lay a place for me at Miss Laurie's table, please.”

Harry glanced at me with a look of triumph. “Of course, sir.”

I seated myself in my usual place and Philip sat down beside me. Harry, who had started to lay the second place opposite mine, moved the cutlery accordingly.

The minute he left us, Philip said in a low, vicious voice, “What the hell do you think you're playing at, Clare?”

It was like a slap in the face – yet what could I expect? He'd had as much of a shock as I, and it had obviously been no more pleasant. He was not likely to address me in the gentle, bantering way I'd been used to.

I hoped my own voice was steady. “The same game as you, of course.”

“I don't believe it!”

But he must! “I have some information for you,” I said, and at last looked up and met his eyes. They were hard and cold, and I saw that his face was thinner than when we'd last met. He looked older. His mouth, which had always had a smile for me, was tight-lipped and drawn, almost cruel. I could expect no quarter from this new Philip – I had to convince him I was all I pretended to be.

“My God!” he said tonelessly. “It was a bit – unnecessary – sending you, wasn't it?”

“I'm your cover,” I said calmly, marvelling at myself.

He made an impatient gesture. “Look, as soon as this meal's over, we're going where there's no danger of eavesdroppers and I intend to get to the bottom of this. In the meantime, perhaps you'd make an effort to appear glad to see me. You're acting as if I'd murdered your grandmother.”

Harry came back with two bowls of soup, and it was a marvel to me that I could swallow it. In the space of ten minutes, everything had been shaken up like a kaleidoscope and fallen back into an entirely different pattern. Philip was Aladdin – Aladdin was Philip – and even if I wanted to, there was nowhere I could run where Philip would not find me.

Roast Welsh lamb followed, with rich gravy and mint sauce, but my throat was closed and I managed only a mouthful or two before laying down my knife and fork. Philip was doing no better, and with a sudden movement pushed his plate away.

“It's no good, I can't eat and nor, it seems, can you. Once we've sorted ourselves out, perhaps we can act more convincingly.”

He stood up, and as Harry anxiously approached, said curtly, “We won't bother with the dessert, thank you.” His hand on my elbow, he guided me out of the room.

“Wait here while I take my case up.”

It was an order, but I'd had no intention of following him and went instead to the ladies' room. He was right, I looked as woebegone and frightened as I felt, my face pale beneath the tan. Any more shocks like this, and I'd have to revert to full make-up after all. I freshened my lipstick, pinched my cheeks to give them more colour, and went back into the hall as Philip was coming down the stairs.

He stood aside for me to go through the swing doors, took my arm and led the way to his car. He didn't release me until he had opened the door and helped me in. I wondered dully whether it was force of habit or if he thought I might make a run for it. Yet he couldn't know how frightened I was.

He got in beside me, and the grotesqueness of the situation struck me afresh as I recalled all the times we'd set off together in this car, often with Matthew in the back.

But Matthew was the last person I wanted to think about just now. If he found out – I wrenched my thoughts away from him.

Philip meanwhile had turned left on the main road and set off along a stretch new, presumably, to both of us. He drove, as always, competently and fast. I watched his long, slim hands firm on the wheel, still trying to adjust to his being Aladdin. It was unbelievable that I could actually feel frightened of Philip, who'd always been so eager to please me. But I didn't need to remind myself that this wasn't the same man; this was a side of him that I, and, I prayed, my uncle, had never seen before.

And all the time I was trying to think what I could say to him. It would need to be more detailed than if Aladdin had been the expected stranger. Philip would be in an inquisitorial mood and I could not allow myself even one mistake. My mouth was taut and dry, and I could almost taste the nervous pumping of my heart.

Neither of us spoke, and I wondered what thoughts were going round his head. After a while he turned the car off the smooth surface and we jolted over the rough ground and came to rest overlooking a small natural lake. It was a lovely scene, with drooping willows and long-tailed water birds, but neither of us gave it more than a perfunctory glance. Philip switched off the engine, wound down his window, and turned to face me.

“Well?”

I clung to what I knew. “You want to discuss the plan?”

He brushed that aside. “What I
want
is to know how in God's name you got mixed up in all this. I still can't believe we're having this conversation.”

“Nor can I,” I admitted feelingly.

He frowned. “Weren't you expecting me?”

A warning light flashed in my head. That had been a slip, and I was still floundering for an answer when he said suddenly, “Doesn't Bryn know about us?”

Bryn – Jack? “I didn't tell him,” I said truthfully.

“But you knew I was Aladdin?”

“No.”

“That figures – or you'd never have agreed to come. Bryn and his bloody secrecy!” He gave a harsh laugh. “Poor Clare, no wonder you looked a bit white around the gills!”

“And you didn't know I was Goldilocks?”

That should convince him. It seemed to; he looked at me sharply, then away again. “Of course not – I'd no idea you were involved. I was expecting the Lawrence girl, though actually Bryn just said he was sending ‘one of his birds'. I presume the description fits?”

His tone was an insult, but before I could think of a reply he burst out, “God, Clare, where did you meet him? And when? I know he's attractive to women and there's always a crowd of them around him, but you! I'd never have thought—” He broke off and ran a hand through his hair.

“You mean,” I said, asserting myself at last, “that he's rather different from you?”

There was a pause. Then he said quietly, “I suppose I deserved that. Tell me one thing: did you know him while we were engaged?”

“Yes,” I lied.

“I thought there must be someone. Where did you meet?”

I hesitated.

“At one of the galleries?”

“Yes,” I acknowledged, grateful for the let-out.

We sat in silence for a few minutes, each digesting the information we had gleaned. It seemed almost certain that Bryn was Jack, and in charge of the operation. Was he intending to join us, or busy establishing alibis in London? I couldn't ask – I was supposed to know the answer.

As to his reputation with women and my own part in it, I was powerless to defend myself, though the scorn in Philip's voice still rankled.

“He must be pretty sure of you,” he said after a while, “to entrust you with this. But I suppose if he didn't know we knew each other—”

“What difference does that make?”

I felt him tense, and waited nervously for another of those uncharacteristic outbursts. But he merely said tightly, “You're right, none at all, though you must admit it's one hell of a coincidence. Come to think of it, since you're so heavily involved, what price that sanctimonious little scene at Conningley? Believe me, it would upset Matthew far more to learn of your defection than it did of mine.”

I bent my head.

“Or is your affection for him just a blind?”

“No!” I said sharply.

“Then I can't pretend to understand.”

Nor I, though I couldn't say so.

“You didn't know at the time, did you?” Philip went on.

“At the time?”

“Of the fire.”

“Oh. No.” I paused, and added for more emphasis, “No, I didn't.”

“Nor did I. For what it's worth, that's the truth. But since it's all gone through now, I'm damned if I see why we shouldn't share in the profit. Agreed?”

“Definitely,” I said whitely.

“Well, you might as well tell me where they are, then.”

I frowned. “Don't you know?”

“Only the final part – so many paces after such and such. But in true Bryn fashion, I haven't been told where those paces have to be taken.”

“At Cefn Fawr Castle.”

“And where the devil's that?”

I shook my head. He reached over to the back seat for a map. I didn't make any attempt to look at it.

“Seems to be on the coast, about fifteen miles away. Presumably we're supposed to reconnoitre?”

“Yes, either today or tomorrow. Beanstalk is scheduled for Tuesday.”

He looked at me through narrowed eyes. “Quite the little confidante, aren't you? Have you got a plan of the place?”

Damn! I'd intended to bring it, but the shock of seeing him had driven such practical considerations out of my head.

“Not with me, I'm afraid.”

“What do you mean, not with you?” His voice sharpened. “Good God, you didn't leave it in your room?”

“It's hidden, don't worry.”

“Under the mattress, I suppose.” His voice was heavy with sarcasm.

“I'm not a complete fool, Philip.”

There was a short silence, then he said brusquely, “I'm sorry, I can't seem to adjust to your being well-schooled in all this.”

Hardly surprising.

He gave a sigh of exasperation. “Well, if we haven't got the plan we can't go now, which is a bit of a bind.”

“We don't really need it,” I urged, cursing my stupidity and conscious of ‘the Lawrence girl's' imminent arrival. “The corridor won't be hard to locate.”

But he shook his head decidedly. “No, we'll leave it till tomorrow – I'm not in the mood for treasure-hunting. Anything else to report?”

“Only that the shipment has been arranged,” I said, parrot-wise.

“Uh-huh. And the Zimmermans? I didn't see them at lunch.”

That really shook me. I said feebly, “They were lunching at the golf club. Clive was meeting them there at twelve-thirty.”

“Clive?”

“Just someone at the hotel. I met him out on the hill this morning.”

“Sinbad?”

My eyes flew to his. “I don't know – don't you?”

“No, only that he's here. Another example of Bryn not letting the right hand know what the left's doing.”

His voice was bitter. He was staring straight ahead of him, across the silver waters of the little lake. This new Philip, tight-lipped and aloof, took a bit of getting used to. After all the years of his striving to please me, it was disconcerting to discover that I quite obviously meant nothing to him. I was strictly on my own, and heaven help me if I put a foot wrong.

He turned his head, meeting my eyes. “So what do we do now?”

I looked away. “I don't know. There's not much point in going back yet. Perhaps we could drive to the nearest beach? It would pass the time.”

“I thought you loathed beaches?”

“It was only a suggestion. Have you a better one?”

“No, my brain's not functioning this afternoon. But as you say, since we're supposed to be in love – though God knows why it was necessary to have that embellishment – it would hardly be in keeping to sit reading newspapers in the lounge. Very well, the beach it is.”

“Unless we try the castle, after all,” I suggested again.

“I told you, I'm not up to it,” Philip said baldly. “Just one thing more, before we start making sand pies: how's Matthew?”

I bit my lip. “He seems – all right.”

“When did you see him last?”

“Just before I left. The day before yesterday.”

He turned to me then, and I didn't like the expression in his eyes. “Well, I must say, you've more nerve than I have. At least I broke away before I got in too deep.”

“You had no option,” I said tartly, “you were thrown out.”

“
Touché
. And you, so far, have been more circumspect?”

“Precisely.” The brittle little voice didn't sound like mine. If only I knew what it was all about, how serious it was, if there was somebody I could warn, and who, if anyone, I could trust at the hotel!

“The Zimmermans,” I began hesitantly as Philip bumped the car back on to the road.

“Don't worry – they won't give any sign of recognising me. They're pretty well briefed. I saw them in Chicago last month.”

“So they – know all about it?”

He glanced at me with amused impatience. “They have the right, wouldn't you say, since they're the buyers?”

So we had something to sell. What was it that was hidden in the dark passage of Cefn Fawr? Drugs, diamonds, state secrets? Was Philip now a drug dealer or a foreign agent? The idea seemed too ludicrous for serious consideration, but that the stakes were high, I no longer doubted.

The sun suddenly ceased to warm me, and I shivered.

“Break in the weather ahead.” Philip nodded in the direction of a large purple cloud which was draining the colour out of the sky like a giant sponge. “Looks as if we're in for a storm. It was forecast.”