Blood Stones (38 page)

‘Nothing,' James answered.

‘You want to tell me why she left? James, listen. I'm old enough to be your father. We never had a family, Clara and me, so I feel for you. I really do. You can talk to me.'

James shook his head. ‘It won't help, David. She thinks I stayed to get my business finished and left her to go through it on her own. It's that simple. Someone was supposed to call here and leave a message, but they never did. There's no record, just business calls.'

David Wasserman pulled a wry face. ‘So you'll have to convince her,' he said. ‘She'll listen. Give her time to get over it. It's a big shock, losing a child. Just give her time.'

‘Time is what scares me,' he said slowly. ‘You don't really know my wife. There are some things she'd never forgive. But thanks anyway.'

‘Well,' Wasserman heaved himself slowly out of the chair. He was getting stiff. His age was showing. ‘Well, I'm sure it'll work out. Now why don't you come and have dinner with us tonight? And we won't talk about it. Clara wants a blow-by-blow account of the weekend, she lives for the business. Eight o'clock at the hotel?'

‘I'll let you know,' James promised.

When Wasserman was gone he buzzed Ruth's office. ‘I'm back,' he said. ‘Come in, will you?'

She was so quick, she must have been poised, waiting. ‘What happened? Did you get what you wanted?'

She hadn't remembered to say good-morning, or observe the ritual between boss and secretary. She hadn't been told the details. Just that he and Wasserman had an idea that could wreck the sale of the red diamonds. She looked at him, bright eyed with anticipation. The predator about to leap on its prey.

He said, ‘Don't worry. You picked the winning side.'

‘Oh.' She sounded breathless. ‘Oh, congratulations. Can you tell me about it?'

‘No,' he said. ‘Better not. But that old sod won't be selling any diamonds on commission for the Russians. He won't be selling much for quite a spell. Ruth, did you get a message about my wife on Friday?'

She had been preparing herself for this. Lasalle's call had come through to her from the switchboard. She hadn't noted it.

‘No,' she said. ‘Why? I thought she was with you. Is something wrong?'

He wasn't going to discuss it with her. He didn't answer; he picked up the fax and said, ‘Get this faxed through to Heyderman, will you please. Wasserman's handling London.'

‘Yes,' she was reading it at speed. ‘My God, you must feel like celebrating. I know I do.'

She flashed the white sexy smile at him. He remembered what he owed her.

‘Wouldn't be possible without you. I haven't forgotten. I'm going out for the rest of the day. I'll call in sometime to check on my calls, you deal with everything till I get back tomorrow.'

‘Can I reach you if I need to?'

‘No. I'll be moving around. See you tomorrow, Ruth.'

She came a little closer to him. Her cheeks were glowing as if she had just made love. ‘I'll bring the champagne for us tomorrow. If you don't mind?'

He didn't answer. He just walked out of the office.

He was upset, she had expected that. But, so upset that he didn't seem to care about what he'd achieved? That surprised her. There was no sense of triumph, no euphoria. Just a grim detachment. He hadn't smiled or responded to her enthusiasm. He almost seemed to resent it. Her offer of champagne to celebrate had been rebuffed by silence. To hell with him, she thought. So he was moping about the miscarriage. That wasn't going to spoil it for her. She'd send the fax to Johannesburg immediately, ignoring the time difference. Wasserman might be handling London for him, but she was going to put in a personal call to Reece and give him the news. What better way to remind him of her part in it? She moved behind James's desk and perched in his chair. It felt comfortable. She made the call to London on his telephone.

11

‘I told you not to come here,' Jean Pierre said. ‘I warned you, Hastings.'

They were standing in the hall of the château. Lasalle stood squared up to him, glaring.

James said, ‘I know, and I'm not here to upset anyone. I just want to see my wife. If she says no, I'll go. Will you tell her I'm here?'

They were of a height and a weight, but not an age. If Lasalle lost his temper, and it looked as if he might, James didn't want to hit him. He turned away, avoiding a physical confrontation.

‘She has a right to know I'm here,' he stated.

‘She has a right to get well without you causing any more trauma,' Lasalle snapped back at him. ‘Haven't you hurt her enough?'

‘I'm not going to argue with you,' James said. He had made up his mind to be calm on the way down. ‘You've been very good to her, and I'm grateful.'

‘I love her,' Jean Pierre said. ‘When she's got rid of you, I want to marry her.'

It took the last of James's self-control, but he managed to say, ‘Just let her know that I'm here. That's all.'

There was a moment's hesitation, and then Jean Pierre swung away from him with an exclamation and went through a door leading off the hall.

It seemed a long wait. There was an old French Cartel clock on the wall above his head, and it ticked like a bird scarer, minute after minute. The hall was cold. Stone floors, not much central heating. He made observations just to occupy his mind and stop himself jumping up and bursting through that closed door. It opened on a last explosive tick of that damned clock, and James was on his feet.

Lasalle came out and said, ‘Elizabeth will see you. But only for a few minutes and with the door open. If I hear any raised voices—'

‘You won't,' James said curtly, and walked past him.

He was shocked when he saw her, she looked so thin and drawn. The bloom and beauty had gone. She was sitting on a sofa by a big log fire and the room was as warm as the hall had been cold.

‘Liz,' he said, and came to her. ‘Oh Liz, darling …'

He sank down beside her and burst into tears. In all the years Elizabeth had never seen him cry. She said in a low voice, ‘Don't do that, James, please. Otherwise I'll start. I promised Jean Pierre I'd be calm.'

‘Yes,' he said. ‘Yes of course. I'm sorry. I won't make a scene. I won't say anything to upset you. But please, can we just talk for a minute?'

‘I don't know what there is to say,' she said. ‘Everything's gone wrong for us, that's all. The trouble is, I can't really feel anything. I'm numb. How did your weekend go?'

‘Oh don't,' he begged. ‘Don't say that. Liz, I didn't know. I never got a message about anything. I couldn't even get through to the flat because someone left the phone off the hook!'

‘There was a bit of a panic,' she admitted. ‘I asked you about the weekend because I know how important it was to you … I wasn't trying to score a point. I lied about putting my back out. I was due to go to the clinic, anyway, but I thought you'd cancel everything and come home, and it was probably a false alarm. I did know how much it mattered to you.'

He looked at her. He reached over, surprised at his own tentativeness, and took her hand. It was limp, returning no pressure. ‘This isn't you,' he said, ‘looking at me like that and talking like this. You should have told me. Of
course
I'd have chucked the bloody weekend.' And then, because he couldn't help himself, ‘It was my child, too.'

‘Yes,' Elizabeth said. ‘I know you wanted it, I'm so sorry.'

He wasn't getting through, and he knew it. He clutched at her hand in desperation and felt her resistance. ‘That doesn't matter. Nothing matters but what's happening to us. Liz, I can't bear this, you're the only thing I care about in the world. If I lose you, I've lost everything. I didn't know – I didn't know anything was wrong! For Christ's sake, what kind of a man do you think I am?'

‘I'm not sure,' she said slowly. ‘I'd like to believe you, James. But I can't quite. I've been thinking ever since it happened. You know, from the day I married you, I've done what you wanted. I dropped things I liked doing because they didn't interest you. I even stopped seeing so much of my family because I knew it was a strain for you. I mixed with people I didn't like much myself, because they were your friends and useful to you … I uprooted and came over here, and gave up my big chance to do the Lord Chancellor's job, just because I put you and your career ahead of anything I wanted—'

‘Liz,' he interrupted. ‘Liz, what are you talking about? You told me you didn't get it.'

‘I lied,' she said quietly. ‘I turned the commission down and came here with you instead. Oh, I didn't
mind
, James, it was my choice. I had my priorities right. You needed me here. I let you use me socially because it was all part of your business. You knew how much I hated doing it. How much I've always hated that sort of ghastly snobbery. But I went along with it because I loved you so much and I believed you loved me the same. But you didn't, did you? Not when it came to the bottom line. That's the trouble. I can't get rid of the doubt.'

He said slowly, ‘What can I say to all this? I'm sorry? I didn't know? I thought you were happy, that we had everything going for us. All right, I was selfish, I didn't think enough about you and what you were giving up all the time. I'll change. That's a promise I'm making to you now, this minute. If you give me another chance, and believe me, it'll be what
you
want. We can work it out together. As for not loving you … Oh Christ, Liz, what does it look like?'

‘It looks like you want me to come back and start again,' she answered. Suddenly she softened, as if she pitied him. ‘I don't know if I can do that now. My mother's coming over at the end of the week. I'm going down to Freemantle for a while.'

Freemantle, the big house in its parkland, where he had always felt so ill at ease.

‘Don't,' he said, quickly. ‘Don't cut yourself off. Go home. I'll be back soon, I'm finished with this bloody place. All right, I won't stay at the house if you don't want me to, but don't go to Freemantle.' He covered his face in his hands. ‘We'll never get back together if you do.' She heard him say in a muffled voice, close to breaking again. ‘Are you going to leave me for that bastard? He said you were …'

He felt Elizabeth touch him on the arm and turned to her. She looked so sad. ‘No,' she said. ‘He'd like me to, but no. I'm going home, James, to my own home, not London. I need space and time to sort myself out. I won't throw our marriage away, but I can't promise anything. I do want you to leave me alone till I've made up my mind. Will you do that?'

‘Yes,' he said. ‘If that's what you want. But, Liz, how long?'

‘I don't know that either,' she said. ‘James, I'm sorry, but would you go now, please? I can't take any more at the moment.'

He stood up. He bent down and kissed her on the forehead.

‘I'll wait,' he said. ‘However long it takes, I'm going to get you back.'

He walked out into the hall past Lasalle; for a moment their eyes locked in an exchange of cold antagonism. ‘I may not win,' James said quietly, ‘but you've lost.'

He drove back to Paris and his office. That night he went to dinner with the Wassermans. When they opened champagne he drank it. His life was on hold. There was only Diamond Enterprises left.

Julius Heyderman put down the fax from Paris and laughed out loud. Hastings had done it. He'd cut the legs off Karakov. No sale of the red diamonds, no foreign currency for the Russian government. Proof positive that there was only one reliable outlet for their stones in the world market, and that was Diamond Enterprises. They were on the point of signing up with London, and this would seal the package. He was in such a good mood he called Sylvia and told her to get some cronies round for dinner. And start setting up some dates for them in London. Stella was getting back to normal. The bills for clothes and luxuries and the suite at the Dorchester proved that. He didn't care. They'd go to London and all fly home together. The first family Christmas in God knows how many years. Then, when all the dust had settled, he would set about levering Arthur Harris out at the March Board meeting. He was a truly happy man.

‘Ray,' Arthur said warmly, ‘come in, come in. What can I do for you?'

When he came back from Moscow Andrews had noticed the change in Arthur Harris. He had lost that air of sadness, that was, in fact, deceptive, because he was as clever and as ruthless in his way as Julius Heyderman. Now he looked confident, almost rosy cheeked. He beamed his smile at Andrews. The documents were ready, the Russian representative was scheduled to fly into London for the signing in less than ten days. The only sour note in the symphony of success was James Hastings' nasty
coup
in Paris. Harris had admired the result. Ethics were one thing and big corporate ethics, with hundreds of millions at risk, had to be something different. But nothing outshone Andrews' achievements.

‘I've had a fax from Moscow,' Ray said. He was frowning, looking slightly puzzled. ‘Can't make it out. They want me to fly back as soon as possible. No explanation.'

‘Get on to your friend Borisov,' Arthur suggested. ‘Find out what's the problem. Some little hitch, I expect. You can probably sort it out on the telephone.' He went on smiling confidently at Andrews.

‘I tried,' Ray explained. ‘He was out of the city till tomorrow. He's expecting to see me there; they gave me an appointment. I think I'd better go.'

‘Well,' Arthur said, ‘since everything's so close to signature, you might as well. We don't want a last-minute delay on some little detail at this stage.'

‘I'm sorry, Sue,' Ray said later as he packed. ‘It's just a bloody nuisance having to go off at the last minute. But I shouldn't be away more than a couple of days. We're missing the Morrises' anniversary party, too.'