Vengeance in the Sun (15 page)

“But that's all we can do,” Bradley said. “ Wait for my father to renounce the Premiership and wait for Danielle's return.”

I looked at my watch. Only half an hour to go until the main television news of the day. I pressed my foot down even harder on the accelerator, streaming headlong down the narrowing road.

We clustered round the television in the main salon. The endless musical comedy show had finished. The news flashed on. There had been a train crash in Madrid. There had been a fire in an hotel in San Sebastian injuring eleven tourists. Mario swore desperately and my nails dug deeper into the soft velvet of the sofa. In an impersonal voice I heard the news commentator mention the words African Summit meeting, and Van de Naude, but my Spanish was not good enough for me to understand the rest of his words. Then there were pictures from Lusaka. A crowded, roaring auditorium of enthusiasm and John Van de Naude, upright and broad, his shock of steel-grey hair making him look like a patriarch of old, took the stand to thunderous applause. Behind him I could make out the seated figures of Helena and David.… His face was stern and impassive. He raised one hand to silence the thunderous hand clapping and began to speak.

It was not necessary to understand Spanish to know what his next words were. Within seconds the delegates rose to their feet in a bodily mass, cheering and clapping.

For once even Leonie seemed disconcerted, her eyes fixed like everyone else's on Bradley's mask-like face.

Savagely he ground his cigarette out and turned on his heel. Leonie hesitated a few seconds then hurried after him and we heard the study door slam shut.

“He will telephone his father,” Peggy said tremulously.

“He will telephone his father and his father will explain.” Her voice rose with pathetic hope. “Perhaps they already have Danielle safe. Communications are so difficult.…”

“Perhaps,” Mario said brutally, “ she is dead!” and he spat on the velvet sheen of the opulent carpet and strode from the room.

I sank back against the cushions on the sofa, and leaned my head back and closed my eyes. If only I could speak to Steve. But I had promised John Van de Naude I wouldn't, and it was a promise I could not break.

If only, I thought, my heart aching, if only I could speak to Max. To have Max take me in his arms and whisper words of comfort. Give me some of his strength. Tiredly I wondered if Claudette had spoken to him. Danielle's kidnap had pushed everything else into the background. Even Max. But now he was in my heart and mind again and I wanted him so badly that my body ached in physical pain.

The room was dark now and empty. I had not bothered to switch on the lamps and when at last my tears for Max were shed, I rose wearily to my feet and crossed to the windows. Somewhere a six year old girl would be crying too. Crying because she was bewildered and afraid. I felt ashamed at my momentary preoccupation with my own troubles.

John Van de Naude had not given in to the blackmailers' demands. He had called their bluff. It
had
to be bluff. If it wasn't, Danielle could be dead already.

In the dark, where the pines clustered round the entrance to the cliff path, something moved. A fox or a weasel. The moon sailed briefly out from behind a bank of cloud and I glimpsed it again, running behind the cover of the trees for the path. Crouching low and on two legs, not four, I froze, straining my eyes as the moon slid behind cloud and the terrace and cliff top were plunged once more into darkness. Then I turned and ran towards the study. Not across the terrace where the intruder would see me, but through the villa, the breath tight in my chest.

A light came from beneath the study door. I knocked urgently, and Bradley opened the door, his fine-boned face taut with nervous tension.

I said briefly: “I've just seen someone running under cover of the trees towards the cliff path!”

“Are you sure? You're not just overwrought?”

“No,” I said shortly. “ I'm not.”

His eyes held mine and I said defiantly: “ I'm almost certain it was Ian Lyall.”

He drew in his breath quickly. “ Then for Christ's sake why didn't you say so?”

“Because …” My explanations were lost on him. He was whipping a torch out of one of Helena's drawers, saying tersely: “Is there a spare dinghy anywhere?”

“There's an inflatable one with a foot pump where Mario keeps his tools.”

“Good,” he said, sprinting out onto the terrace, and then, as I started to follow: “ Stay here!”

“I will not! You might need help.”

“You'll do as you're told!” he snapped.

“What about Mario? Can't Mario go with you?”

“Mario is out. He took that old car of his and headed God knows where.”

“Then I'm
definitely
coming with you!”

We were in the shed where Mario kept his bits and pieces, with the dinghy tucked under one arm and the foot pump and torch in the other, he stared across at me, the expression in his eyes chilling. Bradley needed no help from me or anyone else.

“
I'm going to get that bastard and I'm going to get him alone!
” he said between clenched teeth, then he turned on his heel and was gone.

For five minutes I waited, then I could stand the suspense no longer. I was under no obligation to do as Bradley told me. If Danielle was somewhere out there in the dark, it was me she would want to comfort her.

The terrace was empty as I padded softly across it, gazing out across the bay to where the
Helena
lay at anchor, white and sleek and magnificent. And unsearched. Knowing at last where Danielle was added to my determination.

I slipped down the steep path between the silent woods, the only light that of the stars, the moon still blanketed by cloud. There came the sound of something moving in the undergrowth and my heart lurched painfully, but it was only a small animal scurrying for safety. The jasmine smelt heavy and sweet as I brushed past it. I remembered Ian Lyall's kiss and involuntarily wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. The path steepened, and as I rounded the last of the trees I could see Bradley paddling softly out to sea. I ran down the last of the steps and stared after him. The jetty was empty. Ian Lyall would have taken the dinghy, Bradley had the only spare one. The only other way of reaching the
Helena
was to swim for it. Not an inviting idea on a dark night. Then I remembered the old rowing boat I had sunbathed against on my first day at the villa. I ran lightly over the sand, straining my eyes in the dark. It was just discernible. A dark hump against the black of the rocks. I dragged it right side up, searching frantically for oars. They were there, under the seat. Painfully I dragged the boat down to the water's edge, wading in waist deep as I floated her. Then, praying she wouldn't sink within minutes of leaving shore, I sprang aboard and began pulling strongly out to sea.

Ahead of me a silver line of foam creamed round the
Helena
's hull, and after about fifteen minutes hard rowing I could make out the shape of the two dinghies anchored to the yacht. Through the darkness the
Helena
loomed nearer and nearer, the dull glow of lights showing behind a curtained cabin window. With a grating sound the rowing boat scraped alongside her. I had nothing to anchor on to, nothing to tie the rowing boat with. I paddled alongside until I reached the dinghies, and in the fleeting moonlight caught a brief glimpse of the rope ladder. I grasped it, the boat rocking wildly beneath me, then, letting her float free, I began to climb.

It wasn't pleasant. The ladder swung alarmingly and it was pitch black and cold. The only thing that kept my courage up was the thought of Danielle and the relief she would feel on seeing me.

Eternities later I stood on the empty deck, straining my ears for the sound of footsteps or voices. What I did hear was the distant sound of a child's crying. Carefully I began to walk along the darkened deck towards the cockpit. The cabin door opened easily. Large windows on either side gazed blankly out at the glittering sea, the faint light showing settee berths and cupboards. I walked quickly through it, past a long, narrow galley, recently used, and then another cabin with a single bunk in it. All were empty and all were in darkness. I descended a short flight of steps and the crying became more distinct. The cabin door facing me was edged with light, and ther were voices. Both of them instantly recognisable.

Bradley was saying with quiet viciousness: “ I knew it was you! All along I knew it was you!”

And subdued but clear. I heard Ian Lyall say: “You bastard, Van de Naude. You number one prize
bastard!
”

Danielle was saying tearfully: “Please take me home. I don't like it here anymore. I want my mummy.”

My hand tightened on the door knob and I pushed.

I don't know who was the most surprised. Danielle, who raced towards me, throwing herself in my arms. Ian Lyall, eyes blazing, or Bradley, a gun levelled at Ian Lyall's chest.

“What the hell.…” Ian began, his eyes widening, moving towards me.

“Stay where you are!” Bradley ordered.

Ian Lyall stopped, his desperate glance going from Bradley's gun, to Danielle, to myself.

Danielle's arms were around my waist, her face pressed close against me. I held her to me tightly, my eyes fixed on Ian Lyall's, saying in a voice I scarcely recognised: “How
could
you? How
could
you do this to her!” then, feeling myself on the verge of tears, I said: “I don't know what will happen to you and I don't care. I'm taking Danny home.” With her hand clutched tight in mine I turned to leave.

“You're not going to find that as easy as you think,” Ian said dryly.

I looked at him again, glad I had never allowed myself to respond to his overtures of friendship.

“I knew there was something wrong about you the first day I arrived. I heard you talking to Helena, shouting at her, telling her I would have to go. Now I know why. You were frightened I would carry out my duties too conscientiously. Make things too difficult for you! Well, you've failed. I'm taking Danny back to the villa and I'm going to find it very easy to do so. There's not much you can do now with a gun pointing at your chest!”

“There's not much you can do single-handed and unarmed, either,” and he smiled. A bitter, defeated smile. “If you hadn't seen me tonight there was a chance for Danny. Now there's none.”

“I don't understand what you mean.”

He said, and his voice was patient. “No, I know you don't. But you will. Give or take five minutes.”

I said to Bradley: “ I'm taking Danielle back in the dinghy. You and Ian can come back in the other one. The rowing boat I came in is probably in the middle of the Mediterranean by now.”

A familiar voice said from the cabin door behind me: “ Sorry, Lucy. We can't let you do that.”

I spun round.

“I'd have given a thousand dollars for it not to have happened this way, Lucy.” It was the first time I had seen Steve without a smile on his face.

I said stupidly: “How did you get here?”

“He's been here all the time,” Ian said. “Ever since he took Danny from her room.”

“I don't believe you.…” The walls of the cabin were beginning to close in on me, beginning to spin. Steve stepped forward, taking me firmly by both shoulders and pressing me down in a chair.

“I'm afraid the man's right, Lucy. You should have stayed at the villa like you were told.”

“
You!
” I managed weakly. “
You
kidnapped Danny?”

“With a little help from his friends,” Ian said bitterly.

The cabin walls began to steady and recede. I gazed at the tableau before me. Steve, staring concernedly down at me. Ian, white-faced and defeated, and Bradley, still holding the gun.

I licked dry lips, saying to Bradley: “ Shouldn't that thing be pointing at Steve? You heard what he just said.”

“Yes. I heard. It seems you didn't.”

“Danielle's kidnapper,” Ian said quietly, though I no longer needed telling. “Is the bastard you just helped tonight.”

I tried to speak but no sound came. Danielle said: “Steve brought lots of new games for me to play with, but I got tired and now I want to go home and Bradley is frightening me and I want Mummy.…”

I pulled her onto my knee, cuddling her close.

“Why?” I asked, looking once more at Bradley.

“Why is no concern of yours,” he said off-handedly, looking at his watch. Then to Steve. “We'd better wait another half hour. The roads will still be busy with traffic from Palma.”

I said inadequately to Ian: “I'm sorry.”

He grinned, pushing his mop of red hair away from his forehead, looking more boyish than ever. “ There's no need to be. You did a good job of looking after Danny. You foiled one kidnap attempt.”

“You mean the night her chocolate was drugged?”

He nodded.

“I thought it was you that had done it. Steve told me it was you and I believed him.”

“Steve had his own reasons for giving me as bad a press as he could. Firstly he didn't want you running to me if you thought anything was wrong, and secondly he was frightened of a developing relationship. He guessed how I felt about you.”

My face flushed, remembering the lies I had believed so easily the off-handed way I had always treated him.

I said to Steve: “And the second time the Mogadon was in the Coke?”

He didn't answer. He didn't have to.

“The car accident. Was that a kidnap attempt as well?”

Bradley laughed shortly and I saw Steve wince. Bradley said cuttingly: “It would have been if Steve hadn't fouled it up.”

“You were supposed to go over the cliff with the car, Lucy. Brad wanted no witnesses. I couldn't do it to you,” his eyes were pleading. “Everything I've said is the truth. I do love you. I wanted to finish the job, leave Majorca, and start afresh somewhere else with you. You need never have known.…”