Bloodline (15 page)

The room looked as though a hurricane had swept through it. The storm had blown open the French doors during the night, and the wind and the rain had wreaked havoc, scattering everything before it. A few loose pages of the report lay on the wet rug, but the rest of the pages had obviously been carried away by the wind.

Elizabeth stepped to the French windows and looked out. She could see no papers on the lawn, but the wind could easily have blown them over the cliff. That must have been what happened.

No
COPIES
. She must find out the name of the investigator Sam had hired. Perhaps Kate Erling would know. But Elizabeth could not be sure now that Sam had trusted Kate. This had become like a terrible game, where no one could trust anybody. She would have to move very carefully.

Elizabeth suddenly remembered that there was no food in the house. She could shop at Cala di Volpe and be back before Alec arrived. She went to the hall closet and got her raincoat and a scarf for her hair. Later, when the rain let up, she would search the grounds for the missing papers. She went into the kitchen and took the key to the Jeep from the
key rack. She walked out the back door that led to the carport

Elizabeth started the engine and carefully backed the Jeep out of the carport. She turned it around and headed out the private driveway, braking to slow down because of the wet surface. At the bottom of the driveway she turned right, onto the narrow mountain road that led to the little village of Cala di Volpe below. There was no traffic on the road at this hour, but there seldom was, for few houses had been built up this high. Elizabeth glanced down to her left and saw that the sea below had become dark and angry, swollen with the night storm.

She drove slowly, for this part of the road became treacherous. It was narrow, with two lanes that had been cut into the side of the mountain, along a sheer precipice. On the inside lane was the solid rock of the mountain, and on the outside, a drop of hundreds of feet to the sea below. Elizabeth kept as close as she could to the inside lane, braking to fight the momentum of the steep mountain gradient.

The car was approaching a sharp curve. Automatically, Elizabeth put her foot on the brakes to slow the Jeep down.

The brakes were dead.

It took a long moment to register. Elizabeth pressed again, harder, pushing down on the pedal with all her strength, and her heart began to pound as the Jeep kept gathering speed. It took the curve and was moving faster now, racing down the steep mountain road, gaining momentum with each second. She pressed down on the brakes again. They were useless.

Another curve lay ahead. Elizabeth was afraid to
take her eyes off the road to look at the speedometer, but out of the corner of her eye she could see the needle racing upward and she was filled with an icy terror. She reached the curve and skidded around it, much too fast. The back wheels slid toward the edge of the precipice, then the tires found their traction and the Jeep plunged forward again, hurtling down the steep road ahead. There was nothing to stop it now, no barriers, no controls, only the swift roller-coaster ride down, and the deadly, beckoning curves ahead.

Elizabeth’s mind raced frantically, seeking some escape. She thought of jumping. She risked a quick look at the speedometer. She was going seventy miles an hour now, and building up speed every moment, trapped between the solid mountain wall on one side and the deadly drop into space on the other. She was going to die. And in an instant revelation, Elizabeth knew that she was being murdered, and that her father had been murdered. Sam had read the report, and he had been killed. As she was going to be killed. And she had no idea who her murderer was, who hated them enough to do this terrible thing. Somehow she could have borne it better if it had been a stranger. But it was someone she knew, someone who knew her. Faces flashed through her mind. Alec…Ivo…Walther…Charles…It had to be one of them.
Someone in the highest echelon of the company

Her death would be listed as an accident, as Sam’s had been. Elizabeth was crying now, silently, her tears mixing with the fine mist of rain that was falling, but she was not even aware of it. The Jeep was beginning to skid out of control on the wet surface, and Elizabeth fought to keep the wheels on
the road. She knew it was only a matter of seconds before she hurtled over the cliff, into oblivion. Her body became rigid, and her hands were numb from gripping the steering wheel. There was nothing in the universe now but herself, careering down the mountain road, with the roaring wind tugging at her, saying
Come join me,
tearing at the car, trying to push it over the brink of the cliff. The Jeep started into another skid, and Elizabeth fought desperately to straighten it out, remembering what she had been taught.
Steer into the skid, always into the skid,
and the rear wheels straightened out and the car continued racing downhill. Elizabeth stole another quick glance at the speedometer…eighty miles an hour. She was catapulting toward a steep hairpin curve ahead, and she knew she was not going to make this one.

Something in her mind seemed to freeze, and it was as if there was a thin veil between her and reality. She heard her father’s voice saying,
What are you doing down here alone in the dark?
and he was picking her up and carrying her to bed and she was on stage dancing and turning and turning and turning and she could not stop, and Mme. Net-turova was screaming at her (or was it the wind?) and Rhys was there, saying,
How many times does a girl have her twenty-first birthday?
And Elizabeth thought, I’ll never see Rhys again, and she screamed his name and the veil disappeared, but the nightmare was still there. The sharp curve was looming closer now, the car speeding toward it like a bullet. She would go over the cliff.
Let it happen quickly,
she prayed silently.

At that moment, to the right, just before the hairpin curve, Elizabeth caught a glimpse of a small
firebreak trail that had been cut through the rock, going up the mountainside. She had to make a decision in a split second. She had no idea where the trail led. All she knew was that it went
upward,
that it might slow her momentum, give her a chance. And she took it. At the last instant, as the Jeep reached the trail, Elizabeth swung the wheel hard to the right. The rear wheels started to skid, but the front wheels were on the gravel road and the momentum gave them enough traction to hold. The Jeep was now hurtling upward, and Elizabeth was fighting the wheel, trying to keep the car on the narrow trail. There was a thin line of trees and their branches were slashing at her as she raced by them, tearing at her face and her hands. She looked ahead, and to her horror, she could see the Tyrrhenian Sea below. The path had merely led to the other side of the cliff. There was no safety here at all.

She was getting closer and closer to the brink now, moving too fast to jump from the Jeep. The edge of the cliff was just ahead of her, the sea hundreds of feet below. As the Jeep hurtled toward the edge, it went into a wild skid, and the last thing Elizabeth remembered was a tree looming up in front of her and then an explosion that seemed to fill the universe.

After that the world became still and white and peaceful and silent.

She opened her eyes and she was in a hospital bed and the first thing she saw was Alec Nichols.

“There’s nothing in the house for you to eat,” she whispered, and started to cry.

Alec’s eyes filled with pain, and he put his arms around her and held her close. “Elizabeth!”

And she mumbled, “It’s all right, Alec. Everything is fine.”

And it was. Every inch of her body felt bruised and beaten, but she was alive, and she could not believe it. She remembered the terror of that drive down the mountain, and her body went cold.

“How long have I been here?” Her voice was weak and hoarse.

“They brought you in two days ago. You’ve been unconscious since then. The doctor says it was a miracle. According to everybody who saw the scene of the accident, you should be dead. A service crew came across you and rushed you in here. You have a concussion and a hell of a lot of bruises, but, thank the Lord, there’s nothing broken.” He looked at her, puzzled, and said, “What were you doing up there on that firebreak road?”

Elizabeth told him. She could see the horror on
his face as he lived through the terrible ride with her. He kept repeating, “Oh, my God,” over and over. When Elizabeth had finished, Alec was pale. “What a stupid, terrible accident!”

“It wasn’t an accident, Alec.”

He looked at her, puzzled. “I don’t understand.”

How could he? He had not read the report. Elizabeth said, “Someone tampered with the brakes.”

He shook his head incredulously. “Why would anyone do that?”

“Because—” She could not tell him. Not yet. She trusted Alec more than she trusted anyone else, but she was not ready to talk. Not until she felt stronger, not until she had had time to think.

“I don’t know,” she said evasively. “I’m just sure someone did.”

She watched him and she could read the changing expressions on his face. They went from disbelief to puzzlement to anger.

“Well, we’re certainly going to find out.” His voice was grim.

He picked up the telephone, and a few minutes later he was talking to the Chief of Police in Olbia. “This is Alec Nichols,” he said. “I—Yes, she’s fine, thank you…Thank you. I’ll tell her. I’m calling about the Jeep she was driving. Could you tell me where it is?…Would you keep it there, please? And I’d like you to get hold of a good mechanic. I’ll be there in half an hour.” He replaced the receiver. “It’s in the police garage. I’m going over.”

“I’m coming with you.”

He looked at her in surprise. “The doctor said you must stay in bed for at least another day or two. You can’t—”

“I’m coming with you,” she insisted stubbornly.

Forty-five minutes later Elizabeth checked her bruised and swollen body out of the hospital over a doctor’s protests, and was on her way to the police garage with Alec Nichols.

Luigi Ferraro, the Chief of Police of Olbia, was a swarthy, middle-aged Sardo, with a large stomach and bandy legs. Next to him was Detective Bruno Campagna, who towered over his chief. Campagna was a muscularly built man in his fifties, with an air of solid competence. He stood next to Elizabeth and Alec, watching a mechanic examine the underside of a Jeep that was raised on a hydraulic hoist. The left front fender and radiator had been smashed, and they were streaked with the sap of the trees they had crashed into. Elizabeth had felt faint at her first sight of the car, and she had had to lean on Alec for support. He looked at her with concern. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

“I feel fine,” Elizabeth lied. She felt weak and terribly tired. But she had to see for herself.

The mechanic wiped his hands on a greasy cloth and walked over to the group. “They don’t build them like that no more,” he said.

Thank God,
Elizabeth thought.

“Any other car woulda been in bits and pieces.”

“What about the brakes?” Alec asked.

“The brakes? They’re in perfect condition.”

Elizabeth felt a sudden sense of unreality engulfing her. “What—what do you mean?”

“They’re workin’ fine. The accident didn’t hurt them at all. That’s what I meant when I said that they don’t build—”

“That’s impossible,” Elizabeth interrupted. “The brakes weren’t working on that Jeep.”

“Miss Roffe believes that someone tempered with them,” Chief Ferraro explained.

The mechanic shook his head. “No, sir.” He walked back to the Jeep and pointed to the underside. “There’s only two ways you can
fregare—”
He turned to Elizabeth. “Excuse me, signorina—screw up the brakes on a Jeep. You can either cut the brake links or you can loosen this nut”—he indicated a piece of metal on the underside—“and let the brake fluid run out. You can see for yourself that this link is solid, and I checked the brake drum. It’s full.”

Chief Ferraro said to Elizabeth soothingly, “I can understand how in your condition it could—”

“Just a moment,” Alec interrupted. He turned to the mechanic. “Isn’t it possible that those links were cut and then replaced or that someone drained the brake fluid and then filled it again?”

The mechanic shook his head stubbornly. “Mister, those links ain’t been touched.” He took his rag again and carefully wiped off the oil around the nut that held the brake fluid. “See this nut? If anyone had loosened it, there’d be fresh wrench marks on it. I’ll guarantee that no one’s touched it in the last six months. There’s not a thing wrong with these brakes. I’ll show you.”

He walked over to the wall and pulled a switch. There was a whirring sound and the hydraulic lift began to lower the Jeep to the floor. They watched as the mechanic got in it, started the engine and backed the Jeep up. When it was touching the back wall, he put the Jeep in first gear and pressed down on the accelerator. The car raced toward Detective Campagna. Elizabeth opened her mouth to scream, and at that instant the Jeep jerked to a stop an inch
away from him. The mechanic ignored the look the detective gave him and said, “See? These brakes are perfect.”

They were all looking at Elizabeth now, and she knew what they were thinking. But that did not change the terror of that ride down the mountain. She could feel her foot pressing on the brakes, and nothing happening. Yet the police mechanic had proved that they worked. Unless he was in on it. And that meant the Chief of Police probably knew too. I’m becoming paranoiac, Elizabeth thought.

Alec said helplessly, “Elizabeth—”

“When I drove that Jeep, those brakes were not working.”

Alec studied her for a moment, then said to the mechanic, “Let’s suppose that someone
did
arrange it so that the brakes on this Jeep wouldn’t work. How else could it have been done?”

Detective Campagna spoke up. “They could have wet the brake lining.”

Elizabeth could feel an excitement stirring in her. “What would happen if they did that?”

Detective Campagna said, “When the brake lining pressed against the drum, it would have no traction.”

The mechanic nodded. “He’s right. The only thing is—” He turned to Elizabeth. “Were your brakes working when you started driving?”

Elizabeth remembered using the brakes to back out of the carport, and braking again later when she came to the first curves. “Yes,” she said, “they were working.”

“There’s your answer,” the mechanic said triumphantly. “Your brakes got wet in the rain.”

“Hold on,” Alec objected. “Why couldn’t someone have wet them
before
she started?”

“Because,” the mechanic said patiently, “lf anyone had wet them
before
she started, she wouldn’ta had no brakes at all.”

The Chief of Police turned to Elizabeth. “Rain can be dangerous, Miss Roffe. Particularly on these narrow mountain roads. This sort of thing happens all too often.”

Alec was watching Elizabeth, not knowing what to do next. She felt like a fool. It
had
been an accident after all. She wanted to get out of here. She looked at the Chief of Polce. “I—I’m sorry to have put you to all this trouble.”

“Please.
It is a pleasure. I mean—I am distressed about the circumstances, but it is always a pleasure to be of service. Detective Campagna will drive you back to your villa.”

Alec said to her. “If you don’t mind my saying so, old girl, you look ghastly. Now, I want you to hop into your bed and stay there for a few days. I’ll order some groceries by telephone.”

“If I stay in bed, who’s going to cook?”

“I am,” Alec declared.

That evening he prepared dinner and served it to Elizabeth in bed.

“I’m afraid I’m not a very good cook,” he said cheerfully, as he set a tray down in front of Elizabeth.

It was the understatement of the year, Elizabeth thought. Alec was a terrible cook. Every dish was either burned, underdone or oversalted. But she managed to eat, partly because she was starving, and
partly because she did not want to hurt Alec’s feelings. He sat with her, making cheerful small talk. Not a word about what a fool she had made of herself at the police garage. She loved him for it.

The two of them spent the next few days at the villa, with Elizabeth remaining in bed, and Alec fussing over her, cooking all the meals, reading to her. During that time it seemed to Elizabeth that the telephone never stopped ringing. Ivo and Simonetta called every day to see how she was, and Hélène and Charles, and Walther. Even Vivian called. They all offered to come and stay with her.

“I’m really all right,” she told them. “There’s no reason for you to come. I’ll be returning to Zurich in a few days.”

Rhys Williams called. Elizabeth had not realized how much she had missed him until she heard the sound of his voice.

“I hear you decided to give Hélène some competition,” he said. But she could hear the concern in his voice.

“Wrong. I only race on mountains, downhill.” It was incredible to her that she could joke about it now.

Rhys said, “I’m glad you’re all right, Liz.”

His tone, as much as his words, warmed her. She wondered if he was with another woman now, and who she was. It would be someone beautiful, of course.

Damn her.

“Did you know you made the headlines?” Rhys asked.

“No.”

“ ‘Heiress narrowly escapes death in car accident. Only a few weeks after her father, the well-known—’ You can write the rest of the story yourself.”

They spoke on the phone for half an hour, and when Elizabeth hung up she was feeling much better. Rhys seemed so genuinely interested in her, and concerned. She wondered whether he made every woman he knew feel that way about him. It was part of his charm. She remembered how they had celebrated her birthdays together.
Mrs. Rhys Williams.

Alec walked into the bedroom. He said, “You look like the Cheshire cat.”

“Do I?”

Rhys had always been able to make her feel that way. Perhaps, she thought, I should tell Rhys about the confidential report.

Alec had arranged for one of the company planes to fly them back to Zurich.

“I hate to take you back so soon,” he said apologetically, “but there are some rather urgent decisions that have to be made.”

The flight to Zurich was uneventful. There were reporters at the airport. Elizabeth made a brief statement about her accident, and then Alec had her safely inside the limousine and they were on their way to the company headquarters.

She was in the conference room with all the members of the board, and Rhys, present. The meeting had been going on for the past three hours, and the air was stale with cigar and cigarette smoke. Elizabeth was still shaken from her experience, and she had a pounding headache—
Nothing to be concerned
about, Miss Roffe. When the concussion wears off, the headaches will go away.

She looked around the room, at the tense, angry faces. “I’ve decided not to sell,” Elizabeth had told them. They thought she was being arbitrary and stubborn. If they only knew how close she had come to giving in. But now it was impossible. Someone in this room was an enemy. If she quit now, it would be his victory.

They had all tried to convince her, each in his own fashion.

Alec said reasonably, “Roffe and Sons needs an experienced president, Elizabeth. Particularly now. For your own sake, as well as everyone else’s, I would like to see you walk away from this.”

Ivo used his charm. “You’re a beautiful young girl,
carissima.
The whole world is yours. Why do you want to become a slave to something as dull as business when you could be out, having a wonderful time, traveling—”

“I’ve traveled,” Elizabeth said.

Charles used Gallic logic. “You happen to hold the controlling stock, through a tragic accident, but it makes no sense for you to try to run the company. We have serious problems. You will only make them worse.”

Walther spoke bluntly. “The company is in enough trouble. You have no idea how much trouble. If you do not sell now, it will be too late.”

Elizabeth felt as though she were under siege. She listened to them all, studying them, evaluating what they were telling her. Each of them based his argument on the good of the company—yet one of them was working to destroy it.

One thing was clear. They all wanted her to get
out, to let them sell their stock, and bring in outsiders to take over Roffe and Sons. Elizabeth knew that the moment she did that, her chances of finding out who was behind this were finished. As long as she stayed here, on the inside, there was the possibility that she could learn who was sabotaging the company. She would stay only as long as she had to. She had not spent the last three years with Sam without learning something about the business. With the help of the experienced staff he had built up, she would continue to carry out her father’s policies. The insistence from all the board members that she get out now only made her more stubbornly determined to remain.

She decided it was time to end the meeting.

“I’ve made my decision,” Elizabeth said. “I don’t plan to run this company alone. I’m aware of how much I have to learn. I know I can count on all of you to help me. We’ll deal with the problems one by one.”

She sat at the head of the table, still pale from her accident, looking small and defenseless.