Crimson (61 page)

“But I’ll check our records to see whether Mr. Grant has done anything like this before.” Sam asked, “What do we do if we get hard pro ofT “Bring it to us as fast as possible there always someone available to take emergency action.” In her pale grey drawing room, Miranda collapsed into an armchair. She was exhausted; she also felt that the

white dagger slicing through her head was about to split it in two.

“Help yourselves.” She wearily waved her hand towards the drinks tray.

“I’ve been trying to think. I’ve no idea where Adam might keep a small notebook. It could be anywhere.” Sam poured himself a generous whisky.

“Not “anywhere” because it’s very valuable. Where would you hide a twenty carat blue-white marquise diamond? Not anywhere.”

“I doubt he carries it around with him,” Miranda mused.

“What happens if he takes off his jacket and the notebook falls out? … It wouldn’t be safe from pickpockets. it wouldn’t be safe while he … slept.”

Annabel volunteered, “Sometimes I fetched things from Adam’s pockets cigarettes, keys, that sort of thing. He’d never have asked me to do such a thing if he kept something secret and precious in his pockets.”

“Do you think it might be in a bank vault?” Miranda asked Sam.

“Unlikely,” Sam said.

“It sounds as if Adam has to keep it handy to make entries.”

“He’s unlikely to keep it in his SUPPLY KITS office.” Miranda continued to think aloud.

“We have the usual petty theft problems, so none of the staff arc supposed to keep valuables in their desks.”

“Maybe he keeps the notebook in an office safe?” Sam asked.

“No, our only safe is in the accountant’s office,” Miranda said.

“And we regard it as a serious burglary risk. We use it as little as possible.”

“Adam has his own safe in his apartment,” Annabel volunteered.

“It’s not particularly secret. It’s built into the window wall in his sitting room, and it’s hidden by a curtain … Oh my God, I gave him my jewellery to keep safe, and it’s still there!”

“..Airanda smiled grimly.

“Maybe. I’ve also seen that safe.

Adam keeps cash in it but not very much and a few valuable bits and pieces: his father’s gold cigarette case, things like that. Last Christmas I gave him a Cartier watch which he put in that safe. I noticed he never wore it: he always wears that old Omega.”

“Maybe the notebook is hidden in his home but not in his safe,” Sam said.

“It’s probably in a private sort of room his bedroom or bathroom. And it’s probably in something immovable rather than something like a briefcase that can be stolen.”

Annabel said, “I think I know where it is.” Miranda and Sam looked at her.

“No, really. A couple of weeks ago, when Adam left for work, I was still in bed, doing the newspaper crossword. I wanted an eraser I’m not very good at crosswords so I went to that Georgian desk opposite the fireplace. As I pulled the desk flap down, Adam opened the bedroom door he’d forgotten something. He made a lot of fuss about my going to his desk. But where would you look for an eraser if not in a desk? I wasn’t rifling through the drawers, you understand.”

“This notebook, or file, wouldn’t be lying around in a. drawer,” Sam said.

“How about a secret drawer?” Annabel suggested.

Miranda nodded.

“Any good eighteenthcentury desk has at least one secret drawer, because they didn’t have wall safes then.”

“D’you remember Gran showing us how to measure the depth of each desk drawer with a ruler? Any drawer that’s shorter than the desk space it seems to occupy probably has a secret compartment behind it.”

“There are probably plenty of other hiding places in his bedroom,” Sam said.

“How can we get in the re?” Miranda said, “You mean…”

“Can we break into the house?” Sam asked impatiently.

“What staff are there? What burglary precaution sT “His apartment’s on the top two floors of an old house in Cadogan Place,” Miranda said.

“There are double locks and chains on the front door, sliding steel shutters on the windows. There might be some sort of access to the roof, but I bet it’s barred.” In a quiet voice, Annabel said, “There’s no need to break in. I still have the keys. Adam thinks I’m at a health farm. As far as he is concerned, our relationship hasn’t altered.”

“The Trojan Horse!” Sam exclaimed, delighted.

“When would be the best time for you to get in when you can be sure that Adam won’t be the re?” “That’s easy, “Miranda said triumphantly. “The SUPPLY KITS EGM takes place tomorrow, at nine a.m.” at the Connaught Rooms miles away from Cadogan Place. Adam can’t afford to miss that meeting. He has a starring role.”

s Maclayne turned up the collar of his heavy city ‘ercoat and hurried down the steps from the VCio, an bo … ur late. London was almost as cold as New York, he thought, stifling a yawn.. Although eight a.m. in London, it was still only three a.m. New York time. Angus, unable to sleep in the plane, had gone over his notes of the international banking conference that had taken him to New York.

He crunched wearily through the gritty snow to the airport bus, which smelled of stale cigarette smoke. Although he carried only hand baggage to avoid delay, there were too few customs officers, so it was eight forty-five when he hurried to his black Daimler, waiting for him at the terminal entrance: there was still enough time to get to the meeting.

The voice of Maria Callas “In mia man” affin” tu sci’ throbbed with exultant emotion in Clare’s pink kitchen. David, who had eaten little, pushed away his breakfast plate and said, “I wish you’d sit down and talk about this seriously, Clare.”

“If people bother to bicycle through the snow for my bread,” Clare said, tying her baker’s apron, “I’m going to serve them as usual.”

“But your damned husband will turn up tonight! I want an answer from you before then!”

Clare looked lovingly at him, but there was also determination in her

look. Quietly she said, “I may be able to answer you tonight, but I may not. We’ve been together now for two years, sharing meals, hopes, concerns; sharing my son, sharing my bed. All that time I’ve loved you even when you were in one of your “difficult” moods, when you didn’t want me or anyone else. I have loved you, and you have known it, the whole time. And I’ve known that you loved me as well, even when it didn’t seem that way.”

“Then why won’t you say you’ll marry meT “Because all the time we’ve been together, I’ve never felt that you were really mine; you’ve been like some partly domesticated animal there beside me for months, and then one day gone! Back to the wilds, or to whatever place your demons drive you … But now you’re afraid of losing me, and you don’t want that, and I’m very glad. I don’t want you to lose me. Nevertheless, I can’t accept your ultimatum: there are too many things to be considered. You, and our love for each other, are incredibly important to me, but in the time I’ve had to wait for you to decide what you want to do, I’ve grown stronger, more sure of myself, increasingly aware of my absolute need to decide for myself what’s best for me. I need time to make that decision. I can’t decide by this evening.”

“Fine. How long do you ne ed?” “I don’t know. I may decide by tomorrow, but I may need longer. I might need a week, I might need much longer than that. But I think this is as important as you do and that’s why I’m not going to be rushed into a decision. I hope you’ll allow me the time I need, and not put me under pressure. And also I hope you know that I really do love you, David.”

“How can I believe that, when you won’t say yes?” “You know I love being with you, David; I love doing things with you; I love learning from you. And I simply love sleeping with you.” A dreamy look came into her eyes, -V’Ac hugged herself.

“I can’t imagine anything more luxnuggling with you under the patchwork quilt than s stairs, knowing that it’s snowing outside. Except waking up in the middle of the night and putting my arm out to you and feeling that wonderful warm lump beside me.”

“So how are you going to feel if you wake up and the warm lump beside you turns out to be Sam? You have to decide whether you want me or a square-jawed Superman gets his way with his fists.” Clare hesitated. At Elinor’s rescue, she had secretly found Sam’s fight-now-talk-later, he-man side almost irresistible. Now, being fought over by two men made her feel Eke a medieval damsel with white hands and a wimple. To Clare’s surprise and chagrin, two aggressive, battling rivals for her hand made her feel exultant and powerful, sneakily, guiltily thrilled to bits.

Turning away from the oven, she looked intently at David and said, “We’re not the only ones concerned.”

“Josh likes me you know he does and I’m growing very fond of him,” David said.

“As a matter of fact, I was quite hurt when he” “Ran to his dad? Josh ignored me as well,” Clare said ruefully.

“Whether or not I think his father deserves it, Josh loves his father. And I’m glad he’s loyal to his father painful though it is.”

“So Josh is going to decide who you’ll spend the rest of your life with?” David asked.

“What will happen to you in twelve years” time when Josh leaves you with never a backward look to play in some college band or work his way to India with the rest of his mates? How are you going to feel then when you wake up in the dark and feel for the warm lump?” Clare sat down abruptly. This is what made her decision so difficult. Where did her duty lie? With Josh. And where did her heart lie? With David.

But suppose she went back to Sam and it didn’t work out? Briefly she recalled what her life had been before David appeared.

No, she preferred not to think of it! Life was never, never, never going to be like that again for her. She wasn’t going to drop the reins of her own life again. Clare was damned if she was going to be over influenced by Sam, David, or anyone.

Anyway she told herself, she didn’t believe that Sam was going to turn over a new leaf.

But if that wasn’t his intention, then why had he bothered to come here? Sam had travelled halfway around the world no doubt at great inconvenience, for Clare knew how carefully his life was structured to help solve her family problems and to see her. It certainly looked as if he was serious.

Feeling ambivalent and confused, Clare said, “It’s no use. The arguments just go round and round in my mind, until I’m back where I started.” David zipped his windproof wine jacket. From the chair beside him he picked up his sheepskin gloves and flat tweed cap.

“Let me know when you decide.”.

“You’ll be back this evening?” Clare asked anxiously. She pushed back her chair and ran to him.

David hesitated. He knew he ought to say no, that he’d come back only if she agreed to marry him. On the other hand, given David’s absence, that bastard Sam would move in as fast as a greased lizard.

He said, “I’ll see what the weather’s like when I’ve finished work.” He left without kissing her.

The driver half turned to Angus.

“Sorry about this, sir. Looks as if we might be here for some time.” The Daimler was stuck in a seemingly immovable traffic jam at Hammersmith Broadway.

gh lightly falling snow, Angus peered impatiently conglomeration of honking, static vehicles feeding in in five converging roads.

“I’ll get to Holborn quicker if I take the underground,” he decided.

“You go on to the Connaught Rooms and wait for me there.” Carrying his briefcase, Angus slipped and stumbled through translucent brown slush, dodging past cars, lorries, “and taxis, towards the blue sign that hung above the station. He was no longer confident of arriving in time for the meeting. He wondered briefly whether to dangle a few fivers in front of one of the motorbike riders who were weaving their way neatly through the traffic. Angus decided against it better late than never and hurried to the ticket office.

At a quarter to ten, Adam hurried across the well-swept pavement of Cadogan Place and lowered himself into his black Porsche.

Annabel, wearing a black balaclava and ankle-length wolfs king coat, watched the Porsche dart away and turn left into Pont Street.

She slipped ‘from the inconspicuous grey BMW Sam had hired and stumbled across the wet road towards the old red-brick building that seemed suddenly forbidding. When she turned the key in the lock, the black do-or to the communal entrance hall swung open.

Why shouldn’t it? There’s no reason why Adam should have changed the locks, Annabel reassured herself as she heaved aside the oldfashioned metal-barred door to the elevator.

And her key also opened the front door to Adam’s apartment. Annabel crept into the hall, her wet boots making tracks across the navy carpet.

A dark shape leapt from the floor at her. She jumped back, alarmed. But it was only Pitch, Adam’s huge black cat. He sprang at Annabel’s

crimson boots, clawing the toes. She bent to stroke his silky head and whisper reassurance, then looked up. The silence seemed threatening.

Ahead was the door to the recently redecorated living room, which stretched the depth of the house with windows at both ends. To Annabel’s left was the dining room, and to her right, the kitchen.

Adam’s apartment was as handsome, impersonal, and tightly controlled as its owner. His fashionable decorator had done a slick job: the walls were painted in carefully chosen tones of plum, aubergine, and grey blue; the carpet and upholstery were navy. Eastern antiques were mixed with the latest clear-plastic, inflatable armchairs and white pedestal tables.

Suddenly, upstairs, a vacuum whined. Annabel started. Mrs. Price must be cleaning t1le bedroom. What a nuisance, she thought the Georgian desk was there. Annabel had imagined herself going directly to the desk and, searching it thoroughly.

Because she reckoned that the desk was the most likely hiding place, she couldn’t summon up much enthusiasm for searching elsewhere. But perhaps she should search the living room while Mrs. Price was occupied in the bedroom above it. Or should she just march upstairs, whistling, and use some excuse to get rid of Mrs. Price?

Annabel decided to go straight to the desk. Decisively she turned right, towards the staircase.