Catier's strike (7 page)

and glanced up at the air extractor on the ceiling, that was apparently still in working order, with its fan whirling monotonously round. The windows were there to give light only, and were never opened, for there were no nets for protection against the various flying insects that would home in as if guided by radar.

Sarah's glance moved on and rested on the intercom speaker, from which numerous summons would undoubtedly come in the not so distant future, and she wished that there was some way that she could cut the connection. This of course was only wishful thinking. If she didn't answer the summons, Sean would only stalk down to her room and yank her out, and there was no sense in asking for more trouble.

As she felt despondency edging nearer, Sarah forced herself to concentrate on positive thinking. Today was Thursday, and that meant that the next fruit delivery would come next Thursday, and somehow she had to be in the area around three-thirty. Better make it three o'clock, she thought, to be on the safe side. She could hang around inside the canteen entrance, there was a small enclosure there where the dustbins were kept out of sight until they could be collected and which would be ideal for Sarah's purpose, since the refuse was only carried down at the end of the day. Sarah's short sojourn in the canteen had proved useful for this knowledge.

If only she had been able to ask Mrs Pullman if the delivery was made at the same time each week, she thought wistfully, then shrugged. If she failed next week, then she would try the week

after, she told herself firmly, flatly refusing to acknowledge the little ditty that crept into her mind at this point that went something like, `sometime, never.'

SARAH hung her one and only decent suit on the makeshift hangers, and sadly surveyed its creases, that she hoped would come out with hanging. It would be worn again when she made her bid for freedom, and although appearance was of small matter now, she did have some pride in her dress.

As she moved away, her foot touched something soft on the floor and looking down she saw that it was one of Martha's Tshirts, that had apparently got overlooked in the rush of leaving.

It was not an expensive item, and Sarah doubted whether Martha would recall its existence, it was certainly not worth the mailing fee should she make an effort to retrieve it.

All grist to the mill, Sarah thought, as she picked it up and held it away from her for inspection. It was certainly better than one of Mrs Pullman's dresses. All she had to do was to wash it, it would dry quickly in this torrid heat.

That was before she discovered that she was looking at the back of the shirt. When she turned it round and saw the deep vee in the front, she blinked and dropped the shirt as if it had burnt her fingers. Whatever else she wore, it wouldn't be that! Mrs Pullman's dresses would be more in keeping, she thought indignantly. She would have to be hard up if she came down to that, and if things got that bad, she would have to wear it

back to front! Trust Martha to own a garment like that, although Sarah couldn't recall her wearing it. It was not the sort of thing one could miss noticing, not with Martha's cleavage!

The sight of the deep vee-fronted shirt brought back Sean Cartier's threats, threats that Sarah had simply refused to dwell on. He had only been trying to frighten her. She swallowed—and he had succeeded! She didn't want to think about what he had said, because in her book such situations simply didn't exist.

Sarah stuck her chin out. She had been hounded before by wolves, hadn't she? and she had learned to cope with them. Charles Ashley for one, and there were several others that she could mention. She ought to have got the hang of it by now, she told herself calmly.

Only she hadn't come across a man of Sean Cartier's standing before. As accomplished as Charles, no doubt, but with a ruthlessness that set him apart from the others.

A man who had no respect for her. She swallowed. She was entirely on her own. No dialling for reinforcements for her—police or fire brigade! She would have to get Sean Cartier's permission first, she thought wildly, recalling that flat voice on the other end of the line when she had tried to contact the outside world.

She took a deep breath. It was no use getting panicky. That would be playing the game his way, and it just wasn't on. If her luck held she would only have to put up with him for a week, so the thing to do was to play it coolly, she told herself sternly, although she didn't feel very cool

at that point. Even let the wretched man think she had fallen for him. Sarah took a deep breath. In spite of his vanity, he hadn't been born yesterday, either. He would spot what she was up to in a flash, and most probably capitalise on it, and she would really be in a mess then.

Her eyes narrowed. He would play the cat-andmouse game with her. He had said that she wouldn't know from one day to the other how he really felt about her, hadn't he? That could only mean that he intended to use his manly charms on her, by subtle flattery no doubt. Not that Sarah minded that, she could cope with that. It was what else he might have in mind that was really worrying her.

Her mind went back to the earlier dinners she had with him, before Charles Ashley had put a spoke in the wheel of their blossoming friendship. Sean had not put a foot wrong, and Sarah had appreciated this. There was no doubt that he had made a beeline towards her on the first day of their arrival. She could remember the way his blue eyes would automatically seek her out from the gaggle of press when they assembled for the daily bulletin, and it had come as no surprise when he had approached her later to have dinner with him.

Sarah was not a vain person, but life had taught her to expect such happenings. Her looks had gained her much unwelcome attention in the past, and they were her undoing now. If she had been plain, none of this would have happened. She would have got shot off the site in double quick time, but then there would have been no

need for any such action. If she had been plain, Charles Ashley wouldn't have hankered after her, or bothered to put her in this mess—not content to just mention the past, but to tar her with the same reputation as his own.

Sarah sighed. In a way she could understand Sean Cartier's outraged feelings. He had, in his eyes, made a fool of himself in the company of several members of the press, and was still of the opinion that Sarah's past was common knowledge to all of them. Sarah drew a deep breath. Well, it hadn't been, not until now, that was, and she could imagine the interpretation Martha would put on her continued absence from the scene. She would easily accept the story of Sarah's engagement to Sean; with one of her knowledgeable nods, clever Sarah had worked the oracle again.

Clever Sarah wasn't clever at all, Sarah thought dispiritedly. She was in a mess, and she couldn't see how she could get out of it. Her one and only chance was in escape, and she was going to need a lot of luck to accomplish that.

By way of distraction she picked up the file that Sean had thrust at her, and began to study its contents.

The trouble was that she couldn't concentrate properly. She was dreading the dinner that she was being forced to have with Sean. If she didn't go to his quarters, then he would carry out his threat of having it served in her room, and that could lead to trouble, and she had had enough of that for the time being.

What a fool she had been in telling him of her plans to sue him! That was something she ought

to have kept up her sleeve. Now that he knew, it gave him an extra hold over her. He wasn't likely to let her go on her way once he had got tired of the game. He hadn't needed much excuse as it was, but she had handed him a far stronger one.

This time she was able to concentrate on the contents of the file. Anything rather than pursue her earlier train of thought, that was doing nothing for her pulse rate.

After studying the sheets of data for some time, Sarah thought she had the hang of it. It was just a question of copying the figures, once you recognised the scientific terms.

Sean's writing was bold and clear, much like the man he was, no half measures for him, she mused, and actually jumped when his voice came over the intercom. 'Dinner in thirty minutes,' he announced perfunctorily, and switched off.

Sarah glanced at her jeans and blouse. They were still presentable, and he wouldn't be expecting her to dress for dinner, she thought ironically, in an attempt to introduce some humour into the situation that went badly awry, for her pulse rate had gone up at the sound of his voice.

She spent as long as she could in the shower, and dawdled over brushing her hair, until she could no longer put off the moment she had been dreading, to go and join Sean for dinner.

A short walk across the main block brought her to Sean's quarters, and to take her mind off what was bound to be a miserable evening she recalled her first sight of the area, when they had arrived in various modes of transport, she and Martha

sharing a cab with Charles Ashley, paying an extortionate amount for the trip. She recalled the surprise shown by all of them at the size of the site. No makeshift buildings here, but sturdy serviceable dwellings, and Charles had made some remark about it looking as if his source of information had not let him down. This site was built for a long stay, and was the property of the Bureau of Mineral Resources that covered a multitude of various surveys. It had been Sean Cartier's presence at the site that had sparked off the newsmen's interest.

There was something else that Sarah recalled at this time too, that did nothing to ease her situation, and that was that these surveys could go on for years.

She was in no mood for pleasantries when she met Sean at the door leading to his private quarters, and followed him through to the room he had selected as his dining room.

Sarah, of course, had been there before, but under much different circumstances. Then, she had been a welcome guest, and now she was under detention for goodness knew how long.

It had been Sandy, Mrs Pullman's niece, who had served the food before, when Sarah had been present, and she only hoped it would be Sandy again, and not her aunt.

In the event, Sarah's hopes were fulfilled, and it was Sandy who appeared a short while after Sarah's arrival, with a tray of covered dishes, and she would have stayed to serve the meal had Sean not sent her away with a flourish of his hand, indicating they they could manage, and little

Sandy had scuttled away before he changed his mind, in a manner that would have made Sarah smile any other time. It was plain that Sandy was in awe of the big boss, and had evidently received orders from her aunt not to make a nuisance of herself.

Up until Sandy had left, not a word had been spoken, Sean had contented himself with the fact that Sarah was there at his bidding, and Sarah had hardly looked at him since entering the room, and now that she did so, she saw that he had changed into evening wear, white shirt and dark pants, and she was provoked into saying acidly, `You must excuse my not changing. I'm afraid my wardrobe, as I believe I did mention, is a bit on the sparse side.'

This only served to add to his enjoyment of the situation. 'Shall I have a word with Mrs Pullman, or will you?' he asked blandly, as he took the covers off the piping hot food and proceeded to ladle it out on to plates.

It was roast chicken with all the trimmings, but however delicious it smelt and looked, Sarah couldn't see herself enjoying one morsel, and she decided to ignore his taunt. She had already told him what she thought of that idea.

`On second thoughts,' he said musingly, as he placed a plate in front of her, 'it would be a shame to cover those gorgeous curves of yours, wouldn't it? I'm off to Darwin in a few days' time. I might pick you up something while I'm there.'

He might just as well have added, 'if you're good,' Sarah thought, as she stared down at her

food. If he had wanted to make her feel like a kept woman, then he had succeeded, and she was careful to keep her eyes on her plate so that he should not see the hate she could feel welling up inside her. No matter what, she wasn't going to let him get under her skin.

`Eat up,' he said harshly. 'We can't have you fading away, can we?' he added silkily.

Sarah pushed her plate away. She would choke if she attempted to swallow one morsel.

`Have it your way,' Sean said lightly. 'Sooner or later you'll eat. I'd rather sooner, of course. Going without food makes you lightheaded, did you know that?' he sneered.

Sarah said nothing. He was baiting her, and she refused to rise.

`I'd like to take you to Darwin with me,' he went on conversationally. 'They've got some good restaurants there, although I may say I can't fault Mrs Pullman's cooking. It's just that there's more choice. They've also got some good night spots, and pretty well cover all types of entertainment,' he sighed loudly. 'It's not on, though, I'm afraid. I can't trust you, can I?'

If the look Sarah sent him was anything to go by, he had his answer!

He went on smoothly, 'Apart from our little private confrontation, you are now a security risk.'

Sarah blinked at this. 'Security risk?' she got out indignantly. 'If that's your excuse, it's a poor one, and wouldn't stand up in any court of law, and you know it!'

As soon as the words were out, Sarah regretted

them. The flash of fury in Sean's eyes told her it had been a mistake to bring the law into it.