Wilbur Smith's Smashing Thrillers (43 page)

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Authors: Wilbur Smith

Tags: #Adventure, #Thriller, #Suspense, #Mystery, #Adult, #Action & Adventure, #General, #Literary Criticism, #Sea Stories, #Historical, #Fiction, #Modern

BOOK: Wilbur Smith's Smashing Thrillers
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What a splendid idea.


So that I can warm the bottles and wash the
nappies while you go off to the ends of the oceans - and we'll have
lunch together once a month?

She shook her head.

We might have a baby
together one day - but not now, there is still too much to do, there is
still too much life to live.


Dammit.

He shook his head.

I don't like
to let you run around loose. Next thing you'll take off with some
twenty-five year-old oaf, bulging with muscles and
-‘


You have given me a
taste for vintage wine,

she laughed in denial.

Come as soon as you can,
Nicholas. As soon as you have done your work here, come to Florida and
I'll show you my life.

The hostess crossed the lounge towards them, a
pretty smiling girl in the neat blue Pan Am uniform.


Dr. Silver? They are calling Flight 432 now.

They stood and looked at
each other, awkward as strangers.


Come soon
,’
she said, and then she stood on tiptoe and placed her arms
around his shoulders.

Come as soon as you can.

Nicholas had protested
vigorously as soon as James Teacher advanced the proposition.

I don't want to speak to him, Mr. Teacher. The only thing I want from
Duncan Alexander is his cheque for six million dollars, preferably
guaranteed by a reputable bank - and I want it before the 10th of next
month.

The lawyer had wheedled and
jolli
ed Nicholas along.

Think of the pleasure of watching his face - indulge yourself, Mr. Berg,
gloat on him a little.


I will obtain no pleasure by watching his face,
off
hand I can think of a thousand faces I'd rather watch.

But in the
end Nicholas had agreed, stipulating only that this time the meeting
should be at a place of Nicholas choice, an unsubtle reminder of whose
hand now held the whip.

James Teacher's rooms w
ere in one of those picturesque,
stone buildings in the Inns of Court covered with ivy, surrounded by
small velvety lawns, bisected with paved walkways that connected the
numerous blocks, the entire complex reeking with history and tradition
and totally devoid of modern comforts. Its austerity was calculated to
instil confidence in the clients.

Teacher's rooms were on the third floor. There was no elevator and the
stairs were narrow, steep and dangerous.
Duncan Alexander arrived slightly out of breath and flushed under his
tan. Teacher's clerk surveyed him discouragingly from his cubicle.


Mr. who!

he asked, cupping his hand to one ear. The clerk was a man as
old, grey and picturesque as the building. He even affected a black
alpaca suit, shiny and greenish with age, together with a butterfly
collar and a black string tie like that last worn by Neville Chamberlain
as he promised peace in our time.


Mr. who?

and Duncan Alexander flushed deeper. He was not accustomed to
having to repeat his name.


Do you have an appointment, Mr. Alexander?

the clerk inquired frostily,
and laboriously consulted his diary before at last waving Duncan
Alexander through into the spartan waiting-room.

Nicholas kept him there exactly eight minutes, twice as long as he
himself had waited in the board room of Christy Marine, and he stood by
the small electric fire in the fireplace, not answering Duncan's
brilliant smile as he entered.

James Teacher sat at his desk under the windows, out of the direct line
of confrontation, like the umpire at Wimbledon, and Duncan Alexander
barely glanced at him.


Congratulations, Nicholas
,’
Duncan shook that magnificent head and the
smile faded to a rueful grin.

You turned one up for the books, you
truly did.


Thank you, Duncan. However, I must warn you that today I
have an impossible schedule to meet, I can give you only ten minutes.

Nicholas glanced at his watch.

F
ortunately I can imagine only one thing that you and I have to discuss.
The tenth of next month, either a transfer to the Bermuda account of
Ocean Salvage, or a guaranteed draft by registered airmail to Bach
Wackie.

Duncan held up his hand in mock protest.

Come now, Nicholas -
the salvage money will be there, on the due date set by the Court.


That's fine
,’
Nicholas told him, still smiling.

I have no taste for
another brawl in the debtors court.


I wanted to remind you of something
that old Arthur Christy once said


Ah! of course, our mutual
father-in-law.

Nicholas said softly, and Duncan pretended not to hear;
instead he went on unruffled.


He said, with Berg and Alexander I have put together one of the finest
teams in the world of shipping. The old man was getting senile towards
the end.

Nicholas had still not smiled.


He was right, of course. We just never got into step. My God,
Nicholas, can you imagine if we had been working together, instead of
against each other. You the best salt and steel man in the business,
and
-‘


I I'm touched, Duncan, deeply touched by this new and gratifying
esteem in which I find myself held.


You rubbed my nose in it, Nicholas.
Just as you said you would. And I'm the kind of man who learns by his
mistakes, turning disaster to triumph is a trick of mine.

'Play your
trick now,

Nicholas invited.

Let's see you turn six million dollars
into a flock of butterflies.


Six million dollars and Ocean Salvage
would buy you back into Christy Marine. We'd be on equal terms.

The
surprise did not show on Nicholas, face, not a flicker of an eyelid, not
even a tightening of the lips, but his mind raced to get ahead of the
man.


Together we would be unstoppable. We would build Christy Marine into a
giant that controlled the oceans, we'd diversify out into ocean oil
exploration, chemical containers.

The man had immense presence and
charm, he was almost - but not quite - irresistible, his enthusiasm
brimming and overflowing, his fire flaring and spreading to light the
dingy room, and Nicholas studied him carefully, learning more about him
every second.


Good God, Nicholas, you are the type of man who can conceive of a
venture like the Golden Dawn or salvage a giant tanker in a sub-zero
gale, and I am the man who can put together a billion dollars on a wink
and whistle.
Nothing could stand before us, there would be no frontiers we could not
cross.

He paused now and returned Nicholas scrutiny as boldly, studying
the effect of his words. Nicholas lit the cheroot he was holding, but
his eyes watched shrewdly through the fine blue veil of smoke.


I understand what you are thinking,

Duncan went on, his voice dropping
confidentially.

I know that you are stretched out, I know that you need
those six big M's to keep Ocean Salvage floating. Christy Marine will
guarantee Ocean Salvage outstandings, that's a minor detail. The
important thing is us together, like old Arthur Christy saw it, Berg and
Alexander.

Nicholas took the cheroot from his mouth and inspected the
tip briefly before he looked back at him.


Tell me, Duncan,

the asked mildly,

in this great sharing you envisage,
do we put our women into the kitty also?

Duncan's mouth tightened, and
the flesh wrinkled at the corners of his eyes.


Nicholas
,’
he began, but Nicholas silenced him with a gesture.


You said that I need that six million badly, and you were right. I need
three million of it for Ocean Salvage and the other three to stop you
running that monster you have built. Even if I don't get it, I will
still use it to stop you. I'll slap a garnishee order on you by ten
minutes past nine on the morning of the eleventh. I told you I would
fight you and Golden Dawn. The warning still stands.


You are being
petty
,’
Duncan said.

I never expected to see you join the lunatic
fringe.


There are many things you do not know about me, Duncan. But,
by God, you are going to learn - the hard way.

Chantelle had chosen San
Lorenzo in Beauchamp Place when Nicholas had refused to go again to
Eaton Square, He had learned that it was dangerous to be alone with her,
but San Lorenzo was also a bad choice of meeting-ground.

It carried too many memories from the golden days. It had been a family
ritual, Sunday lunch whenever they were in town. Chantelle, Peter and
Nicholas laughing together at the corner table
.
Mara had given them the
corner table again.


Will you have the osso bucco?

Chantelle asked, peeping at him over the
top of her menu.

Nicholas always had the osso bucco, and Peter always had the lasagne, it
was part of the ritual,

I'm going to have a sole.

Nicholas turned to the
waiter who was hovering solicitously.

And we'll drink the house wine.

Always the wine had been a Sancerre; Nicholas was deliberately
down-grading the occasion by ordering the carafe.


It's good.

Chantelle sipped it and then set the glass aside.

I spoke
to Peter last night, he is in the san with flu, but he will be up today,
and he sent you his love.


Thank you
,’
he spoke stiffly, stilted by the
curious glances from some of the other tables where they had been
recognized. The scandal would fly around London like the plague.


I want to take Peter to Bermuda with me for part of the Easter holidays
,’
Nicholas told her.


I shall miss him - he's such a delight.

Nicholas waited for the
main course to be served
before
he asked bluntly,

What did you want to speak to
me about?

Chantelle leaned towards him, and her perfume was light and
subtle and evocative.

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