Forever (52 page)

We WILL gain entry! I just don't know how

yet. If my access number and password

still work, we can start from there.

The number's 099/3cd/301. The password's COOKIE.

'I take it you chose "cookie" because you
have a sweet tooth?' guessed Sammy, in that case, when I come to
visit tomorrow, I'll bring you some. Do you have any particular
favourites?' Aaron wrote:

Mrs Field's chocolate chip macadamia.

Perhaps when you return I'll

have thought of a way for us to

enter the OPUS file.

'Get some rest first,' Sammy advised.
'You're no good to us ill or dead.'

And Aaron wrote:

Neither are you.

Take extreme care - okay?

A chill ran up Sammy's spine. He stared at
Aaron, and once again, he was aware of the bleeping of the monitors
and the faint hiss of oxygen.

Aaron was lying back now, obviously tired
out, his fingers loosening from around the pen. Slowly he turned
his head sideways on the pillow, his eyes emphasising the
seriousness of his message.

Sammy stared back at him.
'Oy vey
,'
he sighed, tearing the scribbled pages out of Aaron's notebook and
carefully folding and pocketing them.
Oy vey
.'

'Can say that again,' Aaron rasped.

At Sea • Capri

Uncontrollable tempests raged and shrieked
inside her, whipped themselves into ferocious typhoons. Fed her
hatred. Fuelled her fears.

Where the devil was Monica Williams! It was
past eleven P.M. already! Where has Eduardo taken her? How much
longer do I need to wait until I know, until I can toss away that
pathetic old man, that bundle of brittle bones? Until I can
sentence Guberoff to the merciless fate he deserves?

The
Chrysalis
floated placidly on an
oily mirror of sea, the twinkling lights of Capri so high above
they looked like an uncharted constellation.

Zarah thought, It's outrageous that the sea
can be so calm while such storms rage within me!

Eduardo was pacing back and forth outside
the entrance of A1 Grottino. He had already telephoned the yacht
four times, but Monica Williams had not shown up there, either.
What at first had been frustration and irritation was fast turning
into alarm.

Hearing hollow footfalls echoing, he turned
around.

'Monica!' he shouted and raced towards
her.

Stephanie raised a hand and waved and rushed
forward on her long legs.

'Thank God!' he breathed as he took her in
his arms and swept her right off her feet. 'You had me so worried!
The waiter told me you'd gone off with that boy -'

'I'm fine,' she assured him softly,
returning his embrace. As he set her back down, she drew back and
looked into his eyes. 'What happened down at the marina?'

'Would you believe - nothing? The boat is
fine. It was all a prank!' And holding her face in his hands, he
kissed her deeply.

The touch of his lips sent a jolt of
pleasure coursing through her, and her tongue darted around
his.

'Where did the delinquent take you?' he
murmured, loath to take his lips from hers.

'I -I don't know,' she managed to murmur,
her eyes bright as he nibbled gently at her upper lip.

'Did you check your purse?'

'Ummm . . . yes,' she lied, shivering
deliriously. His tongue was laving her lower lip. 'Nothing's been
stolen.'

'Good. You have to watch these urchins.' His
mouth left hers to trail moist heat down her chin to her throat,
where he kissed her wildly beating pulse. 'You were gone such a
long time . . .' Now his mouth moved even further down, his tongue
exploring the hollow cleft at the base of her throat. 'I was
certain something must have happened to you.'

The warmth of his breath tickled her
breasts, raised goosebumps on her skin, caused her to shudder
involuntarily. 'I got lost. You know how - confusing these
viuzzi
are.'

'I was so worried -'

'At least it gave me a chance to ... to
think.' A warm tingling had started up in the hollow of her belly
and her legs began to tremble. She could feel the insides of her
thighs getting moist. 'So much has happened - so fast. . . I needed
a little time by myself to . . . sort things out.'

He bowed his head over her breasts. 'And did
you . . .?' His tongue now twirled lazily along the neckline of her
blouse, at the very, very boundary of public decency.'. . . Sort
things out?'

'Yes!' she whispered, and quickly glanced
around. 'Eduardo!' she hissed.'Someone might -

'Sssh!' He pulled her into the shadows of
the nearest doorway and sucked of her soft flesh. 'And what,' he
enquired, 'did you sort out?' Without moving his lips, he glanced
up at her, his inquisitive eyes shining like black coals.

'I-I made up my mind!'

'About what?' His tongue continued working
and her body spasmed and arched.

'You,' she said tremulously. 'Me.
Brazil!'

'And?' His tongue stopped making concentric
wet little whorls and he watched her intently.

She took a deep shuddering breath. 'If your
offer still stands,' she said huskily, staring into his eyes, 'I'd
be delighted to accompany you there!'

Offshore, the generators on the
Chrysalis
were working overtime.

Like on a carnival ship, every light except
those in the wheelhouse glowed brightly, so that the effect was one
of two mirror images, one
Chrysalis
floating on the smooth
water, the other upside down in it.

From where she stood outside on the aft
deck, Zarah thought she could detect the throb of the Magnum's
muscular engines carrying across the water. Her breathing quickened
as she listened. Yes, it was the Magnum! The sound was
unmistakable!

Feeling a surge of anticipation, she hurried
across the deck to the port side, from where she could see the
approaching running lights. Judging from their size, the power boat
was still more than a quarter of a mile away, but closing rapidly.
'Soon,' she said softly to herself, 'soon we shall see whether two
birds can be hit with one stone!'

She watched the distant lights a moment
longer, then turned on her heel, her opera gown, a fantasy of an
apres-ballet tutu as interpreted by Christian Lacroix, rustling
with malevolent static.

Colonel Valerio was coming out of the
automatic sliding glass doors as she was set to march in.

'I was just coming to tell you, ma'am. The
Magnum is on its way.'

'I know, Colonel. I heard the engines.'
Zarah frowned momentarily. 'As soon as it is docked, send Ms
Williams in to see me. And Colonel: make certain she is alone.
Without my son!'

'Ma'am!'

Zarah sailed past him into the enormous main
salon with its serpentine cream leather sofas and tortoiseshell
coffee tables and blue suede armchairs and ottomans and soft
recessed lighting. She walked over to where Guberoff was seated,
hunched forward, hands covering his face.

The sobbing, weak, pathetic sight of him
provoked her to new heights of rage; it was all she could do to
contain herself, to keep from lashing out physically. Never, never
in her entire life had the urge for violence been so great.

She stood there, clenched fists trembling at
her sides, and when she spoke, her voice was hard and merciless.
'Boris!' she said with the satisfied sneer of a hanging judge to a
condemned man.

Slowly he lowered his hands and looked
beseechingly up at her. But she had no pity.

'Pull yourself together! It is almost
time.'

Roaring past the port side of the
Chrysalis
, Eduardo spun the wheel and expertly put the
Magnum into a tight twenty-degree turn. The big boat responded
beautifully, skidding around on a dime and throwing up a rooster
tail of spray. He cut the speed, the engine's roar became a
throbbing, domesticated putt, and the beast wallowed in its own
wake.

Stephanie, holding onto the opulently padded
dash, looked ahead through the giant windscreen, beyond the bow. He
had lined up the muscle boat's pointed nose at his first attempt
with the exact centre of the yacht's stern - no mean feat.

'Now for the lights,' he said, hitting a
remote control switch which activated the underwater 'runway'
lights in the Chrysalis's wet berth. The row of watertight halogen
bulbs, built into the U-shaped bay, clicked on almost
instantaneously, giving the water a bright, greenish-yellow
glow.

Stephanie didn't need to be told what to do.
As he steered straight for that bright watery tunnel, she scrabbled
around the windshield as surefooted as an old deckhand and trotted
along the expanse of narrowing fibreglass to the bow, where she
uncoiled the heavy white mooring rope. Holding a length of it, she
walked out onto the bow pulpit, propped her hips snugly back into
the semi-circular railing, and waited, marvelling at how Eduardo
managed to dock the big boat as effortlessly as a veteran trucker
pulling his eighteen-wheeler into a loading dock. She tossed the
rope down to a waiting crew member, who started looping it around a
cleat, and made her way back to the cockpit.

Eduardo switched off the engines, left the
Magnum in the capable hands of the crewmen, and took Stephanie's
hand. Together, they stepped over onto the mother ship. Arms
wrapped around each other's waists, they walked forward and up a
wide companion way to the next deck.

'That was nice!' she breathed, leaning her
head against his shoulder and luxuriating in the salty sea smell of
him.

'What was nice! My docking?'

'Silly.' She nudged an elbow gently into his
ribs. 'Everything. Morning . . . noon . . . night.'

'Ms Williams?' The lazy drawl came out of
the shadows in front of them.

'Yes?' She and Eduardo stopped walking.

Colonel Valerio slid out from the shadows of
the lifeboat hull against which he'd been casually leaning. 'Ms
Bohm requests the pleasure of your company.'

Stephanie's head suddenly began to spin.
They've returned early! From Milan - where they've seen
Guberoff!

She struggled to retain her crumbling
composure, fought to keep her voice steady and the words from
cracking, is it possible for me to take a raincheck? I'm really
quite exhausted -'

'I'm sure Ms Bohm is aware of that.' Colonel
Valerio smiled with his teeth. 'I don't think this will take
long.'

'Whatever it is Mother wants,' Eduardo
suggested, 'why not get it over with? Besides, I should at least
step in and say goodnight to her.'

Colonel Valerio cleared his throat. 'Your
mother, sir, asked to see Ms Williams in private.'

'Really?' Eduardo frowned. 'Did she say what
she wanted?'

'No, sir.'

Eduardo looked at Stephanie, made a face,
and shrugged with resigned reasonableness. He said, 'I shall wait
for you here?'

She nodded. 'I - I'd like that,' she said
quietly, and followed the Colonel.

Outside the main salon, he stepped in front
of the seeing eye which controlled the automatic doors and they
sighed open. He stepped aside, gesturing for her to enter.
'Ma'am?'

Stephanie went in, surprised that he didn't
follow. The doors slid silently, shut behind her.

Now she looked around the sprawling eighty
by forty-four-foot space, her head tucked slightly forward, her
eyes scouting the territory guiltily. She knew her posture, her
reluctant sluggishness, must surely look as furtive as she felt . .
.

An American, a young woman . . . she could
almost hear the accusing, thick Russian accent. . . came with a
package wrapped in a scented scarf! Lavender, it was. Your scent,
Lili . . .

'Ah. Ms Williams.' That silvery musical
voice reached through Stephanie's thoughts, brought her back to
reality with a jolt. 'How good of you to come.'

Then Zarah - Lili - was floating towards
her, all frothed up in layer upon layer of lace and tulle. The
ballerina from hell! Stephanie thought uncharitably, unable to
understand how a woman could consciously choose to wear an outfit
so obviously uncomfortable and frivolously crushable; wondered,
too, how on earth one laundered it, and simultaneously cursed the
parched scratchiness she felt at the back of her own throat. She
was tempted to lubricate it by swallowing, but feared the movement
of her neck muscles would betray her.

'Colonel Valerio said you wished to see me?'
Stephanie was surprised by how clear, how miraculously level her
voice came out.

Zarah said smoothly, lying through her
teeth, 'I hope I am not inconveniencing you?'

'Not at all,' Stephanie replied, just as
untruthfully.

'Good, because I have a little surprise for
you!' Zarah laughed gaily, slid an arm through Stephanie's and, as
if they were old friends from way back when, pulled her too close
while steering her towards one of the six distinctly separate
seating areas, this one at the far front of the salon.

Stephanie's eyes, wary and alert, darted
about, not knowing what to look for, until suddenly, the
coronary-like stitch under her heart stabbed sharper. For, half
hidden behind one of the overscaled table lamps, she now saw the
back of a white-haired head.

Dear God!
she thought
. It can't
be? Surely they haven't flown the old Russian herefrom Milan just
to confront me!

Stephanie's steps became more sluggish and
she heard, but did not register Zarah's . . . Lili's . . . inanely
cheerful, one-sided prattle, each syllable crystalline, like a pure
musical note. All she could think of, the way her pulse and
heartbeat were pounding, was that Zarah must surely hear that
percussive beat, must surely feel that arrhythmic drumming - that
thrumming - right through her arm -