The Collector's Edition Volume 1 (32 page)

M
ICHAEL
lounged at ease in the stretch limousine, smiling as he imagined the scene being played out in Wayne Boyer’s office. Lauren had a great family. All they had needed was a bit of direction, a bit of organisation, and the heart was certainly there to see her freed from being emotionally and physically victimised by a man who deserved no place in her life.

He almost wished he smoked. A cigar would have added an extra little punch to the image he wanted to imprint on Wayne Boyer’s brain. But enough was enough. He’d bought a pinstripe suit he didn’t need and other bits and pieces of flashy apparel he’d never wear again. The opal and gold cufflinks were a particularly nice touch. There had been a big spread in last Sunday’s newspapers about a lawless gang of ratters raiding the opal fields in Lightning Ridge.

Wayne Boyer was a rat of the worst kind, spreading the disease of fear with his nasty marauding attacks on Lauren. Michael was only too aware of how debilitating fear was. His brother, Peter, had never really recovered from the sadistic practices of their grandmother. That Lauren had managed to keep such a strong sense of self in spite
of her ex-husband’s abusive tactics was a marvel to Michael.

It was going to give him a lot of satisfaction to give Wayne Boyer a lesson in fear today. Michael could say one thing about his grandmother. She’d left him with some fine examples of how to get a point across with optimum effect. He hoped Wayne would appreciate the thoroughness with which a plan could be carried through.

The door to the dry-cleaning factory opened and out they came, Wayne Boyer accompanied by two burly policemen-or at least what one could call splendid facsimiles of burly policemen. They were, in fact, two well-built amateur actors who had adopted their character roles with relish and wore their costumes particularly well.

Wayne was expostulating vigorously, but his words had no visible effect on Lauren’s cousin, Joe Hamish, and his mate, Terry Johnson. They flanked Wayne as they crossed the sidewalk, hedging him in so when Joe opened the back door of the limousine, Wayne really had nowhere to go but into the car.

“What the hell is this?” he demanded. Clearly it was not a police vehicle.

“Get in, Mr. Boyer,” Joe said phlegmatically. “We’re taking you for a little ride, courtesy of the boss here.”

“Who?” He ducked his head to see. “You!”

It was clearly a mind-stunning moment for Wayne-the recognition of the face of his assailant, unexpectedly transposed to a vastly different
appearance and coming with the accoutrements of a posh limousine and the evocative title of “the boss.”

Seizing the advantage of the element of surprise, Terry wasted no time in bundling the shell-shocked Wayne into the double-seated rear compartment of the limousine. He and Joe climbed in after him, shoving their guest to the end of the seat directly facing Michael. Everyone ignored his cursing and yelling. The back door was closed. Terry tapped the glass partition between them and the chauffeur. The limousine purred off down the road.

“Might as well calm down and behave, Mr. Boyer,” Joe advised. “No-one can see in. The windows are tinted.”

“This is an abduction,” Wayne fiercely accused. “You said I was wanted down at the police station because my ex-wife had signed an official complaint against me.”

“He lied,” Michael drawled, “just as you lied about Lauren the other day, Wayne.”

The black ferocity of Wayne’s eyes reminded Michael of a wild animal that had been cornered but not cowed. “My secretary can identify these two cops. Don’t think you can get away with any further assault on me.”

“I have no intention of harming a hair on your head. Provided I get your cooperation.”

“What do you want?” he growled.

“Oh, I thought we’d just talk for a while.”

“Who are you, anyway?”

“
Many
people think of me as a friend, Wayne. One could say I have the reputation of being a friend to quite a lot of powerful people.” Michael paused to let that thought linger. “I’m also a friend of the Magee family. And I’m very particularly a friend of your ex-wife.”

Wayne snorted derisively. “You can’t intimidate me.”

“I was thinking more along the lines of exterminating you, Wayne.”

That got through his belligerent guard. He swallowed convulsively and tried to hide the flicker of fear in his eyes. His gaze dropped to Michael’s flamboyant tie, wandered to the silk handkerchief featured in the top coat pocket of the pinstripe suit and shot across to the door, where Michael’s arm occupied the armrest. The opal cufflink earned some sobering study. Michael casually crossed his legs, dangling one obviously Italian shoe for perusal.

“Unfortunately, Lauren said not to hurt you,” he went on in a tone of mournful indulgence. “A pity, really. Extermination is such a neatly final solution.”

“To what?” Wayne demanded harshly.

“To you bothering her and her family. It has to stop, Wayne. I really won’t tolerate any more of it. You upset everyone the other day.”

“Tough!” he muttered scornfully.

“Well, I knew words wouldn’t be enough to convince you, Wayne, so I thought I’d arrange a little
demonstration. That’s quite a nice sports car you drive. A Ford Probe, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is.” Wary suspicion.

“Cost about fifty thousand?”

“About that.”

“Fully insured?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good. I like to deal with a careful man.”

The wind was definitely up Wayne’s sails. He looked deeply worried, though true to his bullying form, he continued to bluster. “If you’ve damaged my car—”

“Now that’s what I want to get across to you, Wayne. Damage control. What we need to work out is what price you put on things. Like doing a valuation on your life. You do value your life, don’t you, Wayne?”

He looked confused.

“Then there’s quality of life. You wouldn’t want that messed up with busted kneecaps or other little unfortunate accidents.”

“What the hell are you getting at?” Wayne burst out, no longer sure of anything.

“Ah, here we are.”

The limousine pulled to a halt alongside a row of vehicles in the car park Wayne habitually used. An electric blue Ford Probe occupied a bay in the row to their right. Wayne had a good view of it.

“As I mentioned, Wayne, a demonstration tends to fix things in a person’s mind,” Michael said affably. “I might add there is nothing you can do but
sit and watch. These doors and windows are powerlocked.”

Even as he spoke, a huge caterpillar tractor came trundling into the car park. The Magees had contacts in the earth-moving business. The big cat lined up behind the Probe, lifted its massive front-end excavating bucket and crashed it down on the glistening blue bonnet. There was a squawk of anguish from Wayne. Michael and the two policemen watched impassively as the bucket lifted and descended again, mangling some more bodywork.

“For God’s sake! Stop it!” Wayne cried.

“I want you to stop bothering Lauren and her family,” Michael said in a tone of sweet reason.

Another thumping, metallic crunch.

“Are you mad?” Wayne shot at him, visibly cracking up with the destruction of the car.

“The car is only a start, Wayne. I can think of lots of other things to damage,” Michael said carelessly.

“You guys are cops!” Wayne yelled at Terry and Joe. “Are you going to let him get away with this?”

“We’re not cops,” Joe said with a shrug.

“I didn’t want the boys coming the heavy with you, Wayne. It was a smoother operation to have your cooperation in leaving your office,” Michael explained.

Wayne muttered a few expletives under his breath as he jerked his gaze to the electric blue wreck. “My car—” He choked.

“I feel the same way about Lauren,” Michael said earnestly. “When you hurt her the other day
and said such nasty things about her.” He shook his head. “I would like to come to some agreement with you, Wayne. It’s a matter of damage control, you see. I can do this to your car, trash your apartment, set fire to your laundrettes, make your life generally unpleasant.”

Wayne stared at him in horror.

“But if you stay right away from Lauren and her family and swear never to come near them again—”

“I swear. I swear,” he repeated hoarsely.

“But have you really got the message, Wayne? I need conviction here.” Michael glanced out the window. “Ah, the clean-up crew. I have a very tidy mind, Wayne. I like to get everything cleaned up to my satisfaction.”

The big machinery moved out and a tow truck moved in, courtesy of one of Lauren’s uncles. Wayne’s olive skin had turned sallow. He watched the wrecked Probe being towed away with glazed eyes. A pickup truck arrived. Men in overalls alighted and swept up the broken glass and bits of metal with big industrial brooms. Lauren’s brothers were very thorough.

“Well, there goes the evidence,” Michael said cheerfully. “What do you say, Wayne? Are you convinced it’s a good idea to leave Lauren and her family alone?”

“Yes. She’s not worth it,” he said dully.

“I’m relieved to hear you think that, Wayne. On the other hand, Lauren and her well-being and happiness are worth a lot to me. Matter of fact, I
paid fifty thousand dollars for the car you’ve just seen destroyed.”

“You? But…but it was my car!” Wayne croaked, his eyes almost rolling in helpless shock and distress.

“No. Your car is being driven back into place right now.”

Wayne stared disbelievingly as another electric blue Probe was parked in the cleanly swept bay. “I don’t understand,” he mumbled.

“It was a demonstration, Wayne. Lauren said I wasn’t to hurt you, but I’ve always been an action man. It’s my nature, taking action. Lauren tied my hands this time, but I did want you to see what I can do. Anytime I like.”

“You spent fifty thousand—” He looked at Michael with the full realisation he was face to face with a ruthless fanatic. It scared him witless.

“Let’s call it an initial outlay. If there’s a next time I won’t feel so generous.” Michael looked inquiringly at Terry and Joe. “What’s the going rate for a good hit man, boys?”

“Eight thousand is the word,” Joe answered.

“Yeah, eight’s the top,” Terry agreed.

“Could have hired six hit men for fifty grand,” Michael mused. He wagged a finger at Wayne. “You’re a lucky guy. If Lauren didn’t have such a soft heart.”

“Look!” Wayne leaned forward, hands outstretched in desperate appeal. “I swear she’s as free as a bird, as far as I’m concerned. I’m out of her life for good. Okay? Please?”

“Well, we’ll just drive around while I think about that. Would you tap the chauffeur, please, Terry?”

Michael lolled back in his seat, watching Wayne through meanly narrowed eyes as the limousine rolled towards the exit of the car park. Beads of perspiration broke out on Wayne’s skin. He looked every bit as sick as Lauren had in the restaurant kitchen. Michael was satisfied that at least some justice had been done.

“You think he means it, boys?” he asked Joe and Terry.

“He’d be a damned fool if he doesn’t,” Terry grunted.

“I wouldn’t waste another car on him,” Joe said contemptuously.

“Oh, I don’t intend to, Joe. I never give repeat lessons,” Michael stated decisively. “If someone’s too dumb to learn-”

“I swear I’ve got the message,” Wayne cried, unable to bear the tension of not knowing his fate.

“I guess I’m going to have to take his word for it. Lauren doesn’t want me to hurt him. Tap the chauffeur to stop, Terry.”

The limousine drew to a halt.

“Well, Wayne, this is goodbye.” Michael opened the door on his side. “I’d go while the going’s good, if I were you.”

He scuttled out and ran.

Michael closed the door and grinned at his companions. “Thanks a lot, guys. I reckon we did it.”

They broke into wild, rollicking laughter.

Michael leaned over and slid open the glass partition. “To the airport,” he instructed. “I’ve got a very important date with the lady of my life.”

T
WO
pink lines appeared.

Lauren’s heart sank. There was no refuting that evidence. The test results were quite specific. Two pink lines meant she was positively pregnant.

If only she’d stayed on the pill! Her mother had always warned her, don’t trust a man to protect you from pregnancy. Although Michael had used condoms. She had even helped him with one during that long, lustful night together. She looked at her long fingernails. Maybe it was her fault.

Well, it was done now, she thought, heaving a sigh to relieve the constriction in her chest. She hadn’t even considered such a possibility until yesterday, when she’d noticed a tight tenderness in her breasts. Then she remembered her mother saying it was the first sign.

Having been through nine pregnancies, her mother had considerable experience and knowledge of the condition. Even so, Lauren hadn’t really believed this was an infallible sign. The test she’d bought was more a peace-of-mind measure. She now had no peace of mind at all!

So, where to go from here? she asked herself as she went through the motions of getting ready for work. Michael would be back today. He wanted
her to be waiting for him. But with this news? It was so…unplanned, premature, mind-boggling.

It had to be faced, of course, but Lauren decided she needed some breathing space first. Becoming a parent was a big responsibility. Her job would certainly be affected, as well as a lot of other things. One little baby represented change on a huge scale. Lauren wasn’t sure yet how she felt about it. Once she got over the shock of the idea. Well, she’d face it properly then.

She arrived at work in a state of distraction.

“Hi, Lauren!” Sue Carroll, the receptionist, gave her a cheery wave. “Got anything planned for the weekend?”

“Weekend?” she echoed, not connecting anything much together.

“It is Friday today,” Sue informed her dryly.

Thank heaven for that, Lauren thought. “Yes. Big weekend,” she replied. Michael…baby…

Sue prattled on about her plans until Lauren escaped into an elevator.

Graham Parker caught her on her way to her office. “The rain in Spain falls mainly on the plain,” he intoned.

“What?” Lauren looked blankly at him.

“You’re late. Roxanne has limped forth. Your ear is about to catch a drumming.”

“Oh! Thanks, Graham.”

Lauren tried to do some mental girding. Roxanne seemed totally superfluous to the issues that were running around in her head, but Michael’s ex-wife
could not be discourteously dismissed. They still had to work together.

Nevertheless, since Roxanne had been off work for the past one and a half weeks, there was something definitely perverse about her returning on a Friday. Most people would have waited until after the weekend. It wasn’t as though Roxanne was critically needed in her department. She liked the intellectual eclat she perceived in the image of having a job in publishing, but she wasn’t exactly a workaholic.

Something had to be eating at her, and Lauren suspected that something was Michael. Roxanne couldn’t bear not knowing if her telephone call had borne the fruit that would taste sweet to her. If that were the case, Lauren was about to give Roxanne a dose of sour grapes.

Her office was blessedly empty when Lauren entered it. No-one actually had any right to be there without her permission or direction. Roxanne didn’t always respect these little niceties, but apparently she had this morning. Lauren had time to go through her usual routine of checking incoming faxes before the rain descended.

“May I come in?”

Lauren affected surprise. “Roxanne! How’s the ankle?”

“Still rather weak.” She hobbled in and collapsed gracefully into the chair on the other side of Lauren’s desk. “It was up like a balloon for days. So painful!”

“Yes. I’ve heard a sprain is often worse than a break. You should have kept resting it until after the weekend.”

A delicate wrinkling of the nose. “I was getting so bored. Godfrey is a dear, but he fusses.”

The shine wearing off the honeymoon? Lauren made no comment. She was not about to encourage Roxanne’s confidences. As Graham had warned, they would fall anyway. That was as inevitable as the sun going down each day.

Lauren appraised the woman sitting opposite her, trying to see her through a man’s eyes. Michael’s eyes. She was shorter than Lauren but her figure was in proportion and very shapely, enhanced by the designer clothes she wore. Her pretty china-doll features were ideally framed by the long silky fall of hair that shone like spun gold.

Lauren suspected the colour was not natural, but it was certainly kept beautifully. No dry, strawlike effect from continual dying. No split ends. Glossy perfection at all times. It was hair that invited touching. For a sensualist like Michael, it would be very attractive.

Then there were the green eyes. So green Lauren wondered if Roxanne wore tinted contact lenses. But that was probably being a bit green-eyed herself. Lauren had to concede they were striking eyes. A man could very easily drown in them if they were glowing at him with doting admiration.

Roxanne Kinsey was a highly polished package who would be prized by any man who wanted an ornamental wife. Opening the package was another
proposition. All the same, Lauren reminded herself it had taken a while for her to see Roxanne in her true colours. Those big green eyes could be very effective in projecting whatever Roxanne wanted to project.

“I feel really badly about you not knowing who Mikey was,” she opened up, her expression eloquently awash with sympathetic concern.

“Not to worry, Roxanne. Michael and I have sorted out that little misunderstanding,” Lauren said dismissively.

Roxanne frowned. “You don’t mean you intend to go on seeing him?”

“Yes, I do. I happen to like the man. Very much.”

Metaphorically, it knocked Roxanne’s socks off. She started to her feet, remembered her fragile ankle and subsided in her chair again, green eyes narrowing. “I see,” she said coldly. “I thought you’d have better sense, Lauren.”

She smiled. “There’s a certain zest in living dangerously.” Though the consequences weren’t so happily zestful at the present moment.

Roxanne managed a careless shrug. “One lives and learns.”

“Yes. One does,” Lauren agreed.

Roxanne looked askance at her, heaved a sad sigh when Lauren’s expression remained impassive, then produced a brilliant smile. “Anyhow, I have some wonderful news, and I wanted you to be the first in the office to know.” She leaned forward confidentially,
her eyes sparkling with delight as she whispered, “I’m pregnant.”

It hit Lauren in the throat, making speech impossible. Her mind stuck on the words, I
am, too.
But she couldn’t feel delight, not in the circumstances. She felt quite sick with uncertainties. Even sicker with Roxanne crowing her wonderful news.

“Godfrey is tickled pink,” she prattled on. “He fusses over me all the time.”

Michael wants a family. He said he’d look after me.

“When I had that fall last week, he was beside himself with worry until the doctor assured him there was no problem. He’s so proud that I’m having his baby.”

“That’s nice. That’s great, Roxanne.” Lauren forced the words out, trying to have some generosity of spirit. It wasn’t the other woman’s fault she was feeling so vulnerable about the future.

Roxanne heaved a happy sigh and leaned back in her chair, settling comfortably. “Yes, it is great. I’ve always wanted children. I just couldn’t risk having them with Mikey.”

That jolted Lauren into asking, “Why not?”

Roxanne rolled her eyes. “Madness runs in the Timberlane family.”

Lauren stared at her, inwardly rejecting the statement, yet uncomfortably aware she knew next to nothing about Michael’s family history. “If that’s the case, Roxanne, I’m amazed you married into it,” she remarked as lightly as she could.

“Oh, everyone said Mikey was all right. He administers the estate and on the surface he seems fine.” She lowered her voice ominously. “You don’t find out about his dark side until you live with him.”

Was this malicious spite? Lauren wondered. “Everyone has a dark side, Roxanne,” she said sceptically.

Roxanne gave her a pitying look. “Of course, coming from Melbourne as you do, you can’t possibly know the family background.”

Lauren leaned back in her chair, crossed her legs and waved a casual invitation. “Go ahead and spit it out, Roxanne. You’re obviously dying to.”

“It’s for your own good, Lauren.”

“Naturally.” Do-gooders always said that before grinding their own axes.

“The Timberlanes were well-known for being extremely eccentric. Most of them died young and in extraordinary or mysterious circumstances. Like Mikey’s parents. They disappeared in Africa.”

“The Dark Continent just swallowed them up, did it?”

“Nobody ever found out. They certainly never came back, and Mikey and Pete were only little kids then.”

“Pete?”

“Mikey’s younger brother. He’s a wastrel, frittering away his inheritance in Monaco.”

Lauren recalled Michael’s mention of a brother in Monaco.

“They were left to the dubious mercies of their mad grandmother. She lived in a massive stone mansion at Hunter’s Hill and she used to lock the boys in the cellar if they were naughty. It drove Pete crazy.”

“Not Michael?”

“He kept a stash of books down there. She found out about it one day and made a bonfire of them to teach him he couldn’t escape being punished.”

“Not much love,” Lauren remarked sadly. No riches at all, she thought, remembering what Michael had said.

“He withdraws into himself. You can’t reach him when he does that, Lauren. No-one can. He just cuts himself off.”

The tactics of a survivor, Lauren thought. She knew all about the need to remove oneself from crushing realities, the strength it took. Michael understood where she had been coming from, she suddenly realised. He obviously had a very personal acquaintance with abuse.

“As I said, the grandmother was mad,” Roxanne repeated with relish. “She stayed in that old mansion and never went out. People were summoned to her. The staff nicknamed her ‘the duchess’.”

“Being autocratic is not necessarily mad,” Lauren remarked.

“Huh! She had to pay her staff double wages to keep them. None of them would have put up with her otherwise.” Roxanne leaned forward to press home her poison. “And let me tell you, Mikey is
precisely the same kind of autocrat. He can chill you right through to the bone with those icy eyes.” She illustrated this with a theatrical shudder.

Michael, the judge, Lauren thought, but he did try to be fair. He listened. Lauren had little quarrel with the way he had acted in the circumstances presented to him. And he had been magnificent, standing up against Wayne.

“Blood will tell in the end,” Roxanne said darkly. “I’m glad I didn’t have any children by him.”

The reiteration of that sentiment stirred Lauren’s blood. “You may very well prefer Godfrey’s genes, Roxanne, but I’d pick Michael above any man I’ve ever met to be the father of my child.”

Lauren wasn’t absolutely sure of that, but Michael had stood up for her against Wayne, and she was not going to let his ex-wife’s nastiness go by without standing up for him.

Roxanne’s jaw dropped. She collected it again and snapped, “Haven’t you been listening? The man is a monster.”

Mikey the monster. Roxanne’s self-serving fiction. The idea of a taint of madness in his family was not a comfortable one, but Lauren was not about to let Roxanne get away with maligning Michael any more.

“Well, it’s been interesting, Roxanne, but I have a different view of Michael, and I don’t want to hear him slandered by you.”

“Slandered!” She looked deeply affronted.

“In fact, he could very well have a defamation case against you,” Lauren went on matter-of-factly.
“I don’t think Godfrey would like it if you ended up in court. Michael can be very formidable once he swings into action.”

Roxanne stared glassily, as though she was seeing her life pass before her eyes.

Lauren went for the kill. “With his wealth, he wouldn’t have to worry about how much a barrister costs or how long the case dragged on. It’s a very touchy and dangerous business, damaging a person’s reputation, Roxanne, and Michael strikes me as the kind of man who could make a very bad enemy.”

“I was only telling you for your own good,” Roxanne snapped, recovering as best she could but unable to hide a flicker of fear in her eyes. “Before it’s too late,” she added defiantly.

“Thank you. But when I need your advice, I’ll ask for it. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to do.” Lauren uncrossed her legs, dragged her chair toward her desk and gave Roxanne a dismissive smile. “Have a nice day. Oh, and congratulations about the baby.”

Roxanne’s pouty mouth thinned into quite an ugly line. She flounced out without another word, fuming with frustration. As the door banged shut behind her, Lauren sent Graham Parker a telepathic warning.

Stormy weather on its way!

Her victory over dark forces, however, did not afford Lauren much pleasure. She fiercely wished she had known Michael much longer before falling pregnant to him. Not that she believed he was in
any way insane. He was a survivor, like her, but backgrounds and upbringings did have a bearing on how people acted within marriages. Wayne had taught her that.

For her baby’s sake, she couldn’t afford to rush into any rash decisions, no matter how vulnerable she felt being unmarried and unprotected by a husband. She needed time to think. It was strange how quickly she was beginning to accept the reality of a baby, of it being a real person to care for.

Perhaps it was best not to let Michael know of her condition for a while. Pregnancy seemed to cause too many emotional pressures for clear thinking. Here she was on day one, so to speak, already worrying about a child that hadn’t even begun to form.

The morning passed with aching slowness. She wondered how Michael’s business in Melbourne was going. By midafternoon she was suffering a bout of intense loneliness. She decided it was a very lonely thing finding out one was pregnant when not surrounded by any loved ones who would feel good about it. She wanted to feel good about it herself, but she didn’t.