Forever (42 page)

Her camera was missing - along with all ten
rolls of blank, high-speed film.

Well, she would leave her stateroom without
it.

Slipping her sunglasses back on, she crossed
the room, opened the lacquered, louvred door, and went outside. She
found herself in a wide corridor with red-lacquered walls and
deep-pile white carpeting cut with a sculptured swath of swirls.
She looked around in amazement. She'd never seen a corridor quite
like it - anywhere. Not on land and never at sea.

Around the ceiling, gold trim shone like
King Solomon's mines, and recessed, glassed-in showcases displayed
priceless Far Eastern antiquities - multiple-armed goddesses and
flaking, serenely squatting figurines. From a mirrored niche, a
four-foot tall black-and-gold Buddha floated on Plexiglas, smiling
benignly.

Her eyes were everywhere at once. This
wasn't a floating palace! It was a floating museum! Good Lord! She
didn't even want to know the insurance premiums. One year's was
probably enough to feed, clothe, and house a small town in
perpetuity.

The corridor and glassed-in showcases
stretched, seemingly, to infinity.

For a moment she paused, debating which
direction she should take. She glanced over her shoulder and then
straight ahead again. Both ends of the hall looked almost
identical. It only stood to reason that all she had to do was
follow her nose. Eventually she would come to a staircase or a
door; from there, it would only be a matter of going up a deck or
two or three.

Purposefully, now, she walked faster. The
antiques in their glowing showcases had changed to verdigrised
bronzes, but she would look at them later. The thing now was to
find her way around, get her bearings, and fix on landmarks such as
the big Buddha.

Without looking left or right she breezed
past an intersecting corridor and nearly collided with an
incredibly beautiful woman in aqua silk lounging pyjamas who was
closely followed by a crew-cut man wearing mirrored aviator shades.
'Whoops!' she heard herself say. 'So sorry,' and was about to
continue when the woman's words stopped her.

'Miss Williams!' The voice was cultured,
foreign-accented, and musically soft.

That voice!

It hung in the air like an exquisite musical
note.

That voice!

It raised the hairs at the nape of
Stephanie's neck and sent chills, like something live and
multilegged, crawling up and down her spine and along her arms and
legs. She'd know that voice anywhere, and she knew it now, here,
the last syllable still ringing in her ears, crystal clear and
silvery. And that accent. Not Brazilian. No. It was -

-
German!

Time did the impossible, telescoping
elastically for what seemed an eternity before standing absolutely
still. Stephanie felt herself losing her grip on reality. Her heart
pounded like an amplified bass beat and she could hear - actually
hear! - the blood rushing wildly through her veins and
arteries.

That voice . . .

. . . Lili's voice
.

Stephanie fought to still her rubbery,
quivering legs and turned around slowly, saying, 'Y-yes?'

Zarah Bohm's lips smiled, but her eyes were
cool. 'How serendipitous! We haven't met yet, but it's time we
became acquainted. I am Eduardo's mother. Come.' She held out an
elegant hand, her sleeves rustling with the slippery sound of silk,
aquamarines and pink coral bracelets clinking softly. 'I will show
you up to the aft deck myself.' She smiled, her hand on Stephanie's
arm now, gently but firmly forcing her to change direction.

Stephanie reflexively recoiled, her body
caught in an involuntary shudder.
So cold, that hand! So icy,
almost reptilian, the flesh, as though it were . . . well, not
exactly dead, but not truly alive, either.

And still time continued to stand still -
for the simple reason that time had been stayed - or, at least, the
passage of years had been slowed!

Impossible!

Stephanie felt the queasiness of sudden
vertigo, of her mouth salivating faster than her throat could
swallow. It could not be! This woman had to be an uncannily close
and much younger facsimile -

Why can't you believe your eyes? Look at the
delicate facial bones! Those are unmistakably Lili's. And her
height! Good God, she is exactly Lili's height. And what about that
singularly pronounced presence and regal deportment?

Lili's. Lili's. All Lili's.

Stephanie's brain registered:
It's her!
Dare! Dare to believe!
even as her conscious mind fought to
dismiss it, struggled to find flaws. And there
were
flaws.

The colour of those cold, almost lifeless
eyes? Impossible to change that. . . but ah! Not impossible, not at
all, for wasn't that the moist, tell-tale gleam of tinted contact
lenses?

And, while the nose was smaller and thinner
than Lili's, and the lips fuller and more sensuous, these last two
were simple procedures. Rhinoplasty and collagen injections - both
readily available in Rio de Janeiro, the plastic surgery capital of
the world - and prestol Unless one already suspected the truth, one
would never connect this woman with Lili Schneider - never in a
million years - for the simple reason that it was common public
knowledge that Lili Schneider was long dead and buried.

And this woman hardly looked ten years older
than the one in Madame Balasz's old photograph!

Stephanie tried to concentrate. The woman
was saying something, but the words went in one ear and right out
of the other. She could only stare, knew she should stop staring,
that it would arouse suspicion. The musical voice turned sharper,
and still Stephanie stared, and then -

'Monica! The sudden shout came from far down
the corridor, and the spell was broken.

Both women's heads swivelled in the
direction of the voice.

It was Eduardo. Running barefoot towards
them, clad only in his spandex swimming briefs. The regularly
spaced, lit-up showcases glowed briefly on him as he passed each
one, tinting his torso in beautiful pinkish light before casting
him in shade again.

'Quickly,' hissed Zarah, her fingers digging
painfully into Stephanie's arm. 'This way!' She began to pull her
into the bisecting corridor.

'Monica!' Eduardo bellowed mutinously.

There was a moment of confusion. This way.
Then Eduardo's bray. Stephanie glanced at Zarah, then over her
shoulder at Eduardo again, who was gaining. Who was she to
obey?

'Quickly!' Zarah urged.

'Wait!' Eduardo yelled.'Stay therer

'This way! Wait!' Stephanie heard Zarah's
sharp intake of breath at her son's insurrection, but the woman's
features were arranged in a blank regal mask. As though awaiting
orders, the man in the aviator shades stood on the sidelines, legs
spread, hands clasped in the small of his back at parade rest.

Stephanie found something unreal ... no,
surreal . . . about being caught in this tableau. The frozen,
mannequin-perfect woman clutching her arm; the tan-uniformed man
with the aviator shades, lenses reflecting tiny fisheye images of
herself; and Eduardo, at one moment distant and the next so close,
hurtling towards them as if his life depended upon it.

Ping!
The sound was a musical note
rather than an intrusion, and Stephanie automatically turned
towards it. Peculiarly enough, she didn't find it at all strange
that two wall panels parted to reveal a hidden elevator. Inside it,
an old lady all in yellow was seated in her motorised wheelchair,
complete with yellow picture hat, furled parasol and matching
slippers. Only the high-powered binoculars hanging from around her
neck, were black. With a whirr, she rode forward to complete the
bizarre tableau.

And then Eduardo, sweat-sheened and
breathless, burst upon them, his tautly muscled chest heaving from
exertion. And with his arrival, everything snapped back to
razor-sharp reality. Staring at Stephanie, he reached out and took
her free hand in his.

His touch had the effect of an electric
shock. Stephanie's breath expelled loudly; then, after the initial
surprise, she could feel the leanness of him - the moist warmth of
his palm, the racing of his pulse; could see the lupine rakishness
of his grin; could catch a whiff of the faint masculine scent
emanating off his perfectly proportioned, near-naked body.

And all the while, his shiny onyx eyes
leaped into her. Leaped and seared and delved.

Never before had she felt a gaze so
hypnotically powerful or ravenous. Yet it wasn't merely sexually
predatory, his gaze. It was far more calculating and seemed - yes!
- to assess. And - she was struck by yet another physical shock -
she could actually feel him probing her physical longings as well
as her intellect, almost as though he could actually see, and was
coolly appraising her hiddenmost secrets: her womanhood itself!

She stood perfectly still, not daring to
breathe, sheer will power all that kept her legs from buckling
under her.

'Stay,' he managed to gasp between taking
deep lungfuls of air. 'On board. For the rest. Of the. Cruise.'

He ignored his mother's head snapping in his
direction, Colonel Valerio's disapproving frown, the old lady's cry
of delight. It was as if he and Stephanie were the only
flesh-and-blood people in the corridor; that the others had been
reduced to phantoms.

'Please. I'm formally. Inviting you.' His
breaths were starting to lengthen, and though he was still only
grasping her hand, he might as well have been holding her face in
his hands and kissing her - his gaze was that intensely intimate.
'Just say . . . please say yes!'

'But Eduardo!' Zarah's silver voice chided.
'Have you considered that Miss Williams might have other
plans?'

'Stay out of this - Mother! He twisted his
head savagely in her direction and felt barbarously pleased to see
her flinch. Then, turning back to Stephanie, his expression
gentled. He repeated, with soft urgency, 'Please?'

'Well, I . . .' Stephanie began tremulously,
and nearly cried aloud as Zarah's nails dug brutally into her other
arm.

'You see,
querido?
Zarah's smile
became victorious, invitations like this require planning on a
guest's part. Surely you are embarrassing Miss Williams! She may
well be employed and have a job to return to, or she might not have
packed the right things, or -'

'Who cares what she packed?' His eyes
blazed. 'For God's sake, Mother, this isn't a cruise ship! Dress-up
isn't required.' Then he turned back to Stephanie, his eyes soft
and pleading. 'Please, Monica? It's only for ten more days. If you
have other plans, surely you could change them?'

'Well, I . . .' Stephanie began
hesitantly.

She was unsettled by Zarah's obvious
dislike, and loathed those sharp talons squeezing her arm. But she
had risked life and limb in order to get on board, and now that she
had, she must stay and see her investigation through. The tape of
Boris Guberoff and Lili Schneider had allegedly been recorded
aboard this yacht; now her journalist's instinct told her that this
was the place where she had to dig for the truth. Besides, in her
hearts of hearts, she knew she had found Lili. Now all she had to
do was come up with irrefutable, concrete proof. Yes. She really
had no choice. This was her great opportunity. On top of which,
there was an unexpected bonus - Eduardo. Whatever he had, there was
something about him which she found especially exciting and
appealing.

'This really is so sudden,' she said weakly,
with what she hoped was just the right amount of vacillation.

'Too sudden, surely!' Zarah interjected,
seizing the advantage and forming a caustic smile.

'But still,' Stephanie blurted before she
realised the impact of her own words, 'I'd love to accept!'

Stifling a moan, Zarah let go of her;
Eduardo's face broke into a sunny grin. 'Wonderful!' he
exclaimed.

For what seemed an interminable moment,
Zarah stared coldly at her son. Then her gaze switched to
Stephanie. 'Welcome aboard, Miss Williams,' she said tightly from
between clenched teeth. And in a furious, whipping blaze of aqua
and pink, she turned angrily on her spiky heels and strode off.

As though answering some telepathic summons,
Colonel Valerio executed a smart about-face and marched off after
her.

The old lady soundlessly clapped her
liver-spotted hands in approval. 'Good for both of you!' she
whispered, her watery blue eyes sparkling. Then she extended a
fragile, blue-veined hand to Stephanie. 'Welcome aboard, child!'
she said warmly, and laughed with sheer delight. 'I am Eduardo's
grandmother, but everyone calls me Zaza. You must, too. Now, I'm
sure you both have better things to do than to fuss over an old
woman. Go. Go.r

Stephanie and Eduardo stood there, smiling
at each other as though they shared a delicious conspiracy.

Zaza clapped her hands sharply.

They both turned to her.

Zaza made shooing gestures. 'Go, show her
around the yacht, Eduardo,' she commanded. And then, slashing the
air with her furled parasol, she called out after him: 'But don't
you dare break her heart. You hear me?'

At Sea

Here she was on the world's most luxurious
private yacht. Never before had Stephanie seen such staggering
profligacy, such unabashed hedonism, and she doubted she ever would
again. And how utterly disconcerting, that such luxury should be
lavished upon a giant machine whose only criterion for existence
was to move a very select few in what was surely the highest
fuel-consumption-per-passenger ratio this side of Cape
Canaveral.

Never before had boats or ships interested
her in the least. The odd speedboat, a jetski she'd tried once or
twice at Key West, an overbooked cruise ship teeming with a
thousand obnoxious tourists in the Caribbean - that had been the
extent of her seagoing experiences.