Bloodline (29 page)
The helicopter pilot was flying as low as he dared over the island, skimming the tree tops, trying to avoid the punishing winds. Even at that altitude the air was filled with turbulence. In the distance ahead the pilot saw the mountain peak of Porto Cervo. Max saw it at the same moment. “There it is!” Max shouted. “I can see the villa.” And then he saw something else that made his heart jump. “It’s on fire!”
On the balcony Elizabeth heard the sound of the approaching helicopter over the wind, and she looked up. Alec paid no attention. He was watching Elizabeth, his eyes filled with pain. “It was for Vivian. I had to do it for Vivian. You see that, don’t you? They have to find you in the fire.”
Elizabeth was not listening. She could only think,
It wasn’t Rhys. It wasn’t Rhys.
All the time it had been Alec. Alec had killed her father and had tried to kill her. He had stolen the report and then tried to frame Rhys with it. He had terrified her into running away from Rhys because Alec had known that she would come here.
The helicopter had disappeared from sight now, beyond some nearby trees.
Alec said, “Close your eyes, Elizabeth.”
She said fiercely, “No!”
And Rhys’s voice suddenly called, “Drop the gun, Alec!”
They both looked down, and on the lawn below, in the light of the flickering flames, they saw Rhys and Chief of Police Luigi Ferraro and half a dozen detectives, armed with rifles.
“It’s finished, Alec,” Rhys shouted. “Let her go.”
One of the detectives with a telescopic rifle said, “I can’t shoot at him unless she moves out of the way.”
Move,
Rhys prayed.
Move!
From behind the trees across the lawn Max Hornung came hurrying up to Rhys. He stopped as he saw the tableau above. Rhys said, “I got your message. I was too late.”
They were both staring up at the two figures on the balcony, puppets, backlit by the rising flames coming from the far side of the villa. The wind was whipping the house into a gigantic torch, lighting the surrounding mountains, turning the night into an inferno, a blazing Valhalla.
Elizabeth turned and looked into Alec’s face, and it was a mask of death, his eyes unseeing. He moved away from her toward the balcony door.
On the ground the detective said, “I’ve got him,” and raised his rifle. He fired once. Alec staggered, then disappeared through the door into the house.
One moment there were two figures on the balcony, and then only one.
Elizabeth screamed, “Rhys!”
But he was already racing toward her.
Everything after that happened in a quick, confused
kaleidoscope of motion. Rhys was picking her up and carrying her down to safety and she clung tightly to him and could not hold him close enough.
She was lying on the grass, with her eyes closed, and Rhys was holding her in his arms, saying, “I love you, Liz. I love you, my darling.”
She listened to his voice washing over her, caressing her. She could not speak. She looked into his eyes and saw all the love and anguish, and there was so much she wanted to tell him. She was filled with guilt for all of her terrible suspicions. She would spend the rest of her life making it up to him.
She was too weary to think about it now, too weary to think about any of it. It was as though it had all happened to someone else in some other place, at some other time.
The only important thing was that she and Rhys were together. She felt his strong arms holding her close, forever, and it was enough.
It was like stepping into a blazing corner of hell. The smoke was getting thicker, filling the room with dancing chimeras that kept vanishing. The fire leaped down at Alec, fondling his hair, and the crackle of the flames became Vivian’s voice calling to him in an irresistible siren song.
In a sudden flare of brightness, he saw her. She was stretched out on the bed, her beautiful body naked except for the scarlet ribbon tied around her neck, the same red ribbon she had worn the first time he had made love to her. She called his name again, her voice filled with longing. And this time she wanted
him,
not the others. He moved closer, and she whispered, “You’re the only one I ever loved.”
And Alec believed it. He had had to punish her because of the things she had done. But he had been clever—he had made those others pay for her sins. The terrible things he had done had been for her. As he moved toward her, Vivian whispered again, “You’re the only one I ever loved, Alec,” and he knew that it was true.
She was holding out her beckoning arms to him, and he sank down beside her. He embraced her, and
they became one. He was inside her, and he
was
her. And this time he was able to satisfy her. And he felt such pleasure that it became an exquisite pain beyond bearing. He could feel the heat from her body consuming him, and even as he watched in wonder, the ribbon around Vivian’s neck turned into a vivid tongue of flame caressing him, licking at him. In the next instant, a blazing beam from the ceiling crashed on top of him in a fiery pyre.
Alec died as the others had. In ecstasy.
While this is a work of fiction, the backgrounds are authentic, and I wish to express my gratitude to those who so generously contributed to my research. If, in adapting their information to the requirements of a novel, I have found it necessary to expand or contract certain time elements, I take full responsibility. My deepest appreciation goes to
Dr. Margaret M. McCarron
Associate Medical Director
Los Angeles County,
University of Southern California
Dean Brady, USC Pharmacy School
Dr. Gregory A. Thompson
Director, Drug Information Center
Los Angeles County,
University of Southern California
Dr. Bernd W. Schulze
Drug Information Center
Los Angeles County,
University of Southern California
Dr. Judy Flesh
Urs Jäggi, Hoffmann-La Roche & Co., A. G., Basel
Dr. Gunter SiebeL Schering A. G., Berlin
The Criminal Investigation Divisions of Scotland Yard, Zurich and Berlin
Charles Walford, Sotheby Parke Bernet, London
And to Jorja, who makes all things possible.
SIDNEY SHELDON
At the age of twenty-five, Sidney Sheldon had three hit musicals running simultaneously on Broadway. A producer and director as well as a writer, Mr. Sheldon has won an Oscar and a Tony for his work in motion pictures and the Broadway theater. His first novel,
The Naked Face,
was nominated for an Edgar and was acclaimed by
The New York Times
as the “best first mystery novel of the year.” His following books,
The Other Side of Midnight
and
The Stranger in the Mirror,
have become international best sellers and have been read by over thirty million people.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.
“Exotic, confident, knowledgeable, mysterious, romantic…a story to be quickly and robustly told and pleasurably consumed.”
—Los Angeles Times
“A blood-chilling tour de force. Readers will be dazzled by Sheldon, who weaves a rich tapestry of violence, romance, power plays and international intrigue.”
—Hollywood Press
“Fast, furious, fascinating, superbly entertaining and once begun, utterly impossible to put down.”
—Fort Worth Telegram
“A tale that captures the reader on the first page and keeps him glued…until the very last gasp, because he builds conflict on conflict and casts of flamboyant, colorful, richer-than-Croesus characters who leap from bed to boardroom to continents and capitals with the ease of a trapeze artist.”
—Lifestyles
“An intriguing and entertaining tale.”
—Publishers Weekly
“An excellent novel, plotted tightly…a novel of powerful business…a first-class detective story.”
—Natchez Democrat
“Frighteningly readable.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“Un-put-downable…****!”
—Western Review of Books
A Stranger in the Mirror
Copyright © 1977 by Sidney Sheldon
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the Publisher. Inquiries should be addressed to William Morrow and Company Inc.,105 Madison Ave., New York, N.Y. 10016.
BLOODLINE. Copyright © 1977 by Sidney Sheldon. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition APRIL 2010 ISBN: 978-0-062-01561-7
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