Crimson (63 page)

Trembling now with excitement, she pushed her hand to the back of this space: there was a little trough in which she could feel several small items.

From it Annabel eagerly withdrew three small, battered, black leather notebooks and an envelope.

The black notebooks contained page after page of neat figures in Adam’s handwriting. The envelope contained a certificate and a crumpled handwritten letter.

Holding her breath, willing herself to concentrate on what she was doing, Annabel carefully replaced the central section of the desk; then, one by one, she started to replace the little drawers.

Behind her, there was a sudden crack! She jumped and gasped with fright. But it was only the sound of a smouldering log.

At the SUPPLY KITS EGM, Adam Grant, tight-lipped, stood up. As was appropriate, he offered his resignation from the board of directors of

SUPPLY KITS

Mr. Grant’s resignation was accepted. The meeting was then dissolved. Reporters, wearing un belted raincoats, rushed towards the platform and a glowing Miranda.

As Annabel crept downstairs, Mrs. Pr ice appeared in the kitchen doorway.

Seeing that Annabel was wearing her fur coat, Mrs. Price said, “Going out again, madam? In this weather?” Broom in hand, she advanced to the bottom of the stairs.

“A hair appointment,” Annabel said rapidly.

“Dare not skip an appointment with Leonard himself, not even in this weather!” Her heart thudded against her black skinny rib sweater as she added, “I’m afraid I’ve made rather a mess of the bathroom, Mrs. Price. I’ll explain to Mr. Grant that it was my fault.”

“Was it the overflow stuck, madam? That’s happened to Mr. Grant a couple of times.” Now Mrs. Price stood before the front door.

Annabel thought wildly, Get out of my way. Please! Get away from that front door! In a worried voice, she said, “Would you mind making quite sure I turned all the taps off? I might have left the basin tap running. Awful of me.” Mrs. Price scooted upstairs. She didn’t want her kitchen ceiling falling down again.

Annabel flung herself through the front door and waited, trembling, for the elevator, pressing the button anxiously over and over. She couldn’t hear it coming up. Damn! Someone must have left it open down below.

She dashed to the end of the passage, clattered down the service stairs, and ran out to the street and headed for Sam’s car, parked farther up the road, next to the wrought-iron railings of the garden. Before she reached it, Annabel slipped on the slush and almost fell.

Sam was feeling apprehensive as he waited. Annabel had been in Adam’s home for nearly two hours, and there was no way of knowing when the SUPPLY KITS meeting would end. Just then Annabel ran across the road towards him, and Sam could see from her excited face that her search had been successful. He switched on the engine purposefully, and they were gone.

M arrived at the lawyer’s office just after midday. Sam d Annabel watched impatiently as the big Rank Xerox dark brown photocopier slowly copied each page of the black notebooks. The machine gave off a slight smell of ozone as the paper went through the heat fuser. Obviously, the copier was one of the older models.

“Can’t it go fas terT Annabel asked, then added nervously, “Must I take those notebooks back to Adam’s apartment?” “If we want to be safe yes,” Sam said regretfully.

“We don’t want Adam to realize they’re missing. If he suspects that we’ve enough evidence to put him in jail, he’ll immediately whisk off whatever cash is left, remove all evidence, and disappear.”

Annabel fidgeted with a fingernail, then remembered that she was supposed to be at the hairdresser. She went to the cracked mirror in the dingy cloakroom and began to comb her hair, flattened by the balaclava, into a thick lion’s mane that would rival even that of Baby Jane Holzer. Mrs. Price would definitely see a change.” Heart thudding, Annabel opened Adam’s front door. She could hear the news on the radio in the sitting room, which, meant that he was in. Her heart sank as she slowly entered the room.

“Where the hell have you been?” Adam asked irritably. A glass of whisky in one hand, he sat in one of the transparent inflatable armchairs.

“I told you in my note. I’ve been at the St. Ivory health farm.”

“You said a health farm. You didn’t say which one,” Adam said crossly.

“Suppose someone had wanted to get in touch with you? Suppose something had happened to your grandmother?” “I’m so sorry,” Annabel said.

“I just didn’t think…” Her voice trailed away.

Well, hurry up. I’ve just told Mrs. Price to serve lunch.” Adam did not kiss her.

Annabel wondered if she could -endure lunch, knowing that proof of her theft was a few feet away, in her scarlet leather shoulder bag. She decided to replace the documents immediately; it would be a risk, but Adam was sitting down with a fresh drink, and she’d be able to do it in three minutes.

“I’ll just take off my wet boots,” she said.

Taking her bag with her, Annabel hurried upstairs to the bedroom. By the time she reached the top of the stairs, her knees were weak with fear.

She shut the’ bedroom door, but did not dare lock it. Moving quickly to the desk, she pulled out the sloping desktop.

Slowly she edged out the elaborate central box. Hands trembling, she opened her bag and replaced the notebooks and envelope, then edged the box back into place and closed the desk flap.

A wave of relief swept over her, only to be replaced by terror as she turned away from the desk.

Adam was standing in the doorway, watching her.

“Looking for stamps The asked pleasantly.

“Second drawer down on the left-hand side. I’ve brought you a Campan and soda tell me if you want more Campari in it. And do hurry down, darling. Mrs. Price is getting tetchy. You know she likes to leave promptly at three o’clock.”

“She’s had a trying morning. I’m afraid I flooded the bathroom again.” With a great effort, Annabel took the drink, and Adam left the room. She collapsed on the sofa and, with shaky hands, tugged her boots off.

Had he seen her? If so, why hadn’t he said anything? He couldn’t have. It was too unbearable to think about.

Adam carefully closed the door of the fiving “He needed time to think. There was only one thing Annabel could have been looking for in that desk. Her face told him that she’d found the notebooks. Had she hidden them in her clothes? Or in her purse? Was she about to deliver them to someone outside? Annabel wasn’t smart enough to be in this alone. And she certainly wasn’t smart enough to understand what was in those notebooks. Someone who did know how important they were had clearly sent Annabel here to steal them … and that person must be waiting somewhere outside. Adam could search her purse, he could search her person; he could certainly find and remove the notebooks but that unknown someone would still come after them.

He had to think clearly, control his momentary panic. Okay his next move should be to conVince Annabel’s accomplice that he didn’t have the notebooks. But how could that be arranged? Suppose Annabel was given all the space she needed to take anything she wanted out of this house? And then suppose she was mugged and her purse stolen before she had a chance to give those notebooks to anyone else? She’d have to be beaten up a little to make the mugging look convincing … but the bitch deserved it … Yes, that was it. He had to keep calm there were still a lot of things to work out. He needed to arrange for someone to follow Annabel until she was in a relatively quiet spot where she could be jumped. Maybe he needed two people, in case her accomplice was lurking outside his front door. In that case, they would both have to be taken care of. Maybe three men would be needed … Mike would be able to arrange it. God, he hoped he’d be able to get hold of Mike …

And maybe he’d better drop everything and get out of the country without waiting until the rest of the money had been funnelled out. Most of the money was out there, waiting for him … He didn’t think there was anything the police could hold him for, but then everyone caught in some sharp practice thought that. If he got out fast, he’d be taking no chances … But suppose the airports were already being watched? … Steady, steady no need to panic. There was no need to worry. If someone got hold of the notebooks, that someone still wouldn’t know where the money was, or how to get it. No, he had nothing to fear, so long as he kept his head … Still, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to arrange for the notebooks to be ‘stolen’, and to let them rough up that bitch Annabel while they were about it that would teach the little whore a lesson … and if her accomplice was also beaten up, then Adam would discover who he was. Maybe she’d been reconciled to that smart-ass husband of hers Mr. Hotshot Reporter … He’d get them both, mess up both their pretty faces … Yes.

Now that he’d decided what to do, all that remained was to locate Mike. Obviously, it would -take Mike some time to make these arrangements, so he would have to keep Annabel here until Mike’s people were in place. But he knew the perfect way to stall Annabel … What better way to kill time than by giving the bitch a fuck she’d never forget?

Adam reached for the telephone.-As he listened to the rings, he nervously tugged his hair over his left eye, then jerked his head up to flip it back into place.

“Mike? Thank God I’ve reached you. I’m in trouble … I knew you would … Look, I need you to take care of someone for me … I promise, I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t absolutely necessary … No, I only want you to frighten someone … Thanks … Right now, as a matter of fact … 19m sorry … Thanks … Well, it’s Annabel O’Dare ““AYJX,0U bloody well just said you would! Mike, I’m sunk if .joi.Aon’t! When I explain later, you’ll see there’s no alternative for me short of pushing her out of the window, or jumping myself… No, no, of course I won’ tV Quickly Adam explained that he had just seen Annabel deliberately steal carefully hidden documents that could put him behind bars.

“What she’s nicked are details of some bank transactions. It won’t do her a blind bit of 1-stood because she doesn’t know where to find the bank Account numbers.” Adam’s voice sounded increasingly desperate as he whispered, “I’ve got to find the bastard she’s working with. I’ve got to find out who’s after my notebooks… and I’ve got to scare Annabel so badly that she’ll refuse to do it again or involve the police … “Why don’t I frighten her? Because, Mike, it’s more frightening if someone else does it. Shows them I have powerful friends. Makes Annabel feel that even if I’m put behind bars, she’ll still be vulnerable … Yes, of course I know it’s also safer for me. Look, I want this done by someone else for exactly the same reason Toby Stitch gets other people to do this sort of thing.

“Mike, I swear I need you on this … I swear you’ll understand when I tell you the whole story … As a matter of fact, I’m scared stiff. If I can’t frighten her off, I’ll have to leave the country for good … Thanks, Mike … How long will you need to arrange it? … Yes, yes, I can keep her here for another couple of hours. Thanks.” Triumphantly Adam replaced the receiver.

They ate a pleasant but not very enterprising meal of green pea soup, grilled Dover sole, and a too stiff chocolate mousse, followed by a perfect, ripe Camembert.

Over lunch, Adam chatted agreeably about nothing much: John Lennon’s blossoming romance with Yoko Ono; whether the Americans actually would

land a man on the moon; whether Golda Meir would be Israel’s first woman prime minister; whether Annabel wanted to stay in that evening or dance at Sybilla’s.

To Annabel, every minute seemed to stretch to an hour. She felt ashamed, confused and worried because she knew that she wasn’t a very good actress. A screen test in LA had once confirmed this.

As he finished his coffee, Adam stared across the table at her elaborate coiffure. He said, “I know you’ve spent the entire morning at the hairdresser having your hair put up like Marie Antoinette’s. But I feel an irresistible impulse to tear it all down.” Smiling, he stood up, walked around to Annabel’s seat, drew her chair back for her, took her firmly by the wrist, and led her to the stairs.

It was a quarter to three. Mike had said not before five o’clock, by which time it would be dark.

FRIDAY, 31 JANUARY 1969

irmly Adam led Annabel up the stairs. She had no choice but to follow him. She dared not suddenly act out of vitaracter: should she seek excuses to avoid going to bed Mith him, it would be the first time. Adam, whose reactions were as fast and instinctive as those of his damned huge cat, would immediately guess that there was another reason for Annabel’s refusal.

He would ask questions, silky smooth and casual at first but gradually becoming sharper, faster, and more pointed. Annabel knew that she would become flustered; she would allow herself to be led into the trap of contradicting herself and then that many-toothed trap would snap shut! She had watched Adam do this to others why not to her?

And though the apartment was warm, and Adam’s hand was warm, Annabel felt her body chill and the hair -prickle on the back of her neck. His strong, insistent fingers firmly clasped her wrist as they climbed the stairs: his hand felt like a handcuff, impossible to unshackle.

Annabel dreaded what was about to happen. She could not bear Adam to touch her, could not bear to think that she had ever allowed him to touch her; she could not bear to think that once she had willingly offered her body to him willingly opened herself, her mind, and her affection. Without much hope, she longed for some distraction, some possibility of escape, some means of putting off this humiliation. On the other hand, she was anxious to get this final ordeal finished and escape.

Adam was now leading her towards his bedroom as he would a call girl for a little light entertainment on a wintry afternoon. The only way Annabel’s situation differed was that the call girl would be paid and would probably feel indifference, for it was something she had chosen to do, and in a way, she would feel wanted.

Of course, Adam would probably prefer a call boy. Briefly Annabel remembered the moment at the pub when he had given a lingering kiss to that boy and, for the first time, she had seen Adam’s emotions not under his usual firm control: she had seen him openly relaxed and happy. Before that moment, she hadn’t understood why he had insisted, so successfully, that Miranda keep their long affair a secret but now she knew what might have happened if those two had become engaged: blackmail. The boy he had kissed was unlikely to be the only one. Annabel supposed that discarded male lovers felt as bruised, battered, and resentful as female ones and might similarly seek revenge, especially accompanied by wads of cash.