Misgivings hit her the moment she opened her eyes. The previous evening had occurred with no planning, as naturally as it should have been. But now? Now it was calculated. Connor would arrive at the hotel where Holly, presumably, would be lying in bed just waiting for him. No way! This was definitely not on. But she didn’t know how to stop him, how to tell him not to come, that she’d changed her mind. There was something tacky about the whole situation. She couldn’t go through with it.
‘Jesus, Jones!’ she berated herself. ‘What were you thinking?’
She flung back the covers, grunting with pain as her ribs reminded her that sudden movement was a bad idea. A quick shower, a cup of coffee, and her worst outfit later, Holly paced the room, still unable to relax. It was nearly eight thirty and she was an emotional mess. ‘Jesus, Jones!’ she repeated angrily. ‘Your bloody libido takes over and your commonsense doesn’t just go out the window, it checks itself off the bloody planet altogether.’
A demanding shrill from the telephone scared her half to death. ‘Holly Jones.’ She fair barked it out.
‘It’s Connor.’
Might as well come right out with it. ‘Look, I . . . about last night . . .’
‘It’s okay, Holly.’
She didn’t hear him. ‘It’s just that . . . well, I’ve been thinking . . .’
‘I’m not coming.’
‘What was that? What did you say?’
‘I’m not coming.’
Of all the cheek!
‘I’ll pick you up at eleven as arranged.’
‘Fine.’ Her voice was stiff.
‘See you then.’ He hung up, leaving her staring at the instrument in her hand.
She was slow to replace the receiver. Doubts crowded her mind. Was he backing off because he had the same misgivings? Or because what seemed like a good idea last night was now a bad one? Did it mean anything at all to him? Was she not good enough? She caught sight of herself in the mirror. Drab grey trousers, loose white blouse, no makeup, the unflattering way she’d combed her hair. Holly sank down on the bed, put her face in her hands, and laughed herself silly.
At eleven, she was waiting for him outside reception. The oyster-coloured linen trouser suit had been resurrected and a touch of make-up applied. She was in brisk mode. So was he.
‘Yep. And the presents.’
‘Let’s go.’
Silence was loud in the car for about ten minutes. Connor broke it. ‘We must talk.’
‘What about?’
‘Today.’
That surprised her.
‘Shoot.’
‘And last night.’
Holly turned to face him. ‘Must we?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay.’ She squared her shoulders.
Connor stamped on the brakes to avoid hitting a stray dog. ‘Sorry. It won’t happen again.’
The question popped out before she could stop it. ‘Why not?’
If he hadn’t been concentrating on the road she’d have seen the amusement in his eyes. As it was, all she had to go by was his voice, which he kept neutral. ‘Because it will get in the way.’
‘I agree.’
‘You do?’
‘Absolutely.’ She was staring straight ahead.
He glanced sideways at her. ‘Good.’ His voice was quiet.
‘Yep.’ She nodded.
‘I’m not apologising, you understand?’
‘Sure.’
‘And I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it.’
‘Elephants,’ she said, a trifle desperately. She was blushing and it annoyed her.
‘Let’s talk about elephants.’
‘Why?’
‘Because.’
‘I don’t want to talk about elephants.’
‘Oh.’
He reached over and squeezed her arm. ‘There’s no reason to feel embarrassed.’
‘I’m not.’
‘Good. So don’t be.’
‘Okay.’ She turned away, seeing but not seeing the view through her window.
‘Holly.’
‘Yep.’
‘Look at me.’
She did, reluctantly.
‘You look very beautiful today. It’s all I can do to keep my hands to myself. I want to throw you over my shoulder, take you to my cave and ravish the daylights out of you. I want you begging for mercy.’
‘I’m not in the habit of begging.’
‘Would you consider demanding mercy?’
‘Demanding is good.’ She felt a rush of affection and gratitude. He was trying to lighten her discomfort. She undid the seatbelt, leaned over and kissed his cheek. ‘Thank you.’
‘Get off me.’
Holly smiled as she buckled up again.
‘There’s just one more thing,’ he said.
‘Damn! Just when I thought you’d finished.’ She watched his profile, wondering what he was about to say. He was so damned good-looking.
‘When we get back to Oz, brace yourself.’
‘Is that a warning, Maguire, or are you simply bragging?’
A dimple perched on the edge of his smile. ‘I could get unbelievably used to you, Jones.’ He shook his head as if to clear it. ‘Right, a word about today.’
Holly was sorry for the subject change but didn’t object. ‘What about it? Raoul has invited us to lunch. It’s because he knows you and because I need a Franco-Mauritian angle on my story.’
‘Okay. Keep it that simple. Keep everything superficial.’
‘Superficial! As far as I know, it’s the truth. You let that little word “drugs” escape the other day but since then you’ve been as tight as a duck’s arse on the subject. What about the treasure? Does Raoul know you’re after it?’
‘Probably. I’m a Maguire and he’s not stupid.’
‘What if he asks me?’
‘If it comes up there’s no harm in saying that you know. Madame Liang does and as she’s his mistress there’s every chance he does too. But be very guarded with your words. Don’t mention that fellow Justin, Kathleen, or the journal. If Raoul is after the treasure he’ll stop at nothing to beat me to it.’
‘You said he’s a business acquaintance. What kind of business?’
Connor’s tone hardened. ‘Shipping. Cost me a lot of money, that little venture. I had a first-rate South African partner but we needed a third man. Raoul seemed perfect. What a mistake. The man has no professional ethics. Took what he could when he could. No proof, of course. Always some excuse. He knows that I know but it doesn’t bother him one iota.’
Holly hesitated, then asked, ‘Is Raoul involved in the drugs thing?’
He blew out air. ‘I’m beginning to wish I’d never mentioned them. Can’t you give it a rest?’
‘Is he?’
His answer surprised her. ‘It’s complicated but I don’t think so. Not what I’m . . . No, he’s not.’
‘I hope you’re right. You don’t sound very sure. From what Kathleen said, he’s a man to be avoided.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. It might simplify things.’
‘What things?’
‘Things. Just things. I can’t say any more. Just be very careful around him.’ Connor’s voice was quiet but there was no doubting his sincerity. Whatever the reason for Connor Maguire being in Mauritius, and Holly was not fooling herself that she had been told the full story, Raoul Dulac had him worried.
Their arrival had been announced by shrill, hysterical barking from within the house. Raoul himself opened the door and Holly was nearly bowled over by an eager Afghan hound that pushed past its master to sniff out the scent of newcomers. Realising that Raoul had made no attempt to stop the embarrassing investigation, Holly, who believed that dogs, like children, should be taught good manners from an early age, delivered a sharp slap to the inquisitive pointed snout. Thus rebuked, the hound turned its attention to Connor who, equally unfazed by what Raoul might think, jerked its collar hard enough to get attention, said ‘no’, quietly but firmly, then patted the animal’s chest when it obeyed.
Raoul, like his house, was clad entirely in white. ‘Welcome, so glad you could make it.’ The expansive smile and outstretched arms were followed by flamboyant cheek-kissing and exclamations of protest when the wine and chocolates were handed to him. He pressed himself too close for Holly’s liking and it took a conscious effort to control the frown she knew had appeared between her brows.
Ice tinkling in a glass announced the presence of Raoul’s wife. Solange stood a few paces behind her husband, waiting to be introduced. Elegant was the word that came to Holly’s mind. Dressed in coral silk trousers and a loose tunic-style top, her blonde hair deceptively simple though expertly cut in a chin-length bob, Solange was a trifle over made-up, yet there was no disguising the fact that she had once been stunning. With age, that beauty had started to blur, her features to coarsen, and the smile accentuated bitter lines around her mouth. Her expressionless eyes were hard and impossible to read.
A crystal glass in her hand held liquid the colour of honey. Her breath, as she approached to press a powdered cheek, advertised cognac. Words of welcome came loud yet strangely halting, making it obvious that their hostess was trying very hard not to slur. Holly speculated that the lady had a lengthy head-start on them liquor-wise.
The Dulac residence was a three-storeyed mansion fronted by pseudo Corinthian columns along a wide, tiled verandah, onto which opened six separate French doors. Inside, ornate ceilings and imported marble floors set off antique furniture and gilt-framed oil paintings of racehorses, sailing ships and scenes from the French Revolution. Kathleen said the original house had been burned to the ground. This one, while reflecting a bygone era, was crass in its newness. Holly felt like she was in a museum. The house had no heart, no warmth – a statement shrieking of the money that had been thrown at it.
Raoul fussed over them, proudly pointing out features and furniture, then insisting on a tour of the garden – all five landscaped acres of it – before the other guests arrived. Solange melted away, murmuring about seeing to the food. Their host could not have been more superficially charming or more transparently flirtatious. By the time they went back inside, Holly’s patience had been sorely tried. The last straw was Raoul’s stage-whispered, ‘The beauty of this rose is matched only by your own, my dear,’ which provoked her to respond, ‘Thank you, Raoul, and just look at all those wicked thorns.’
Approval gleamed briefly in Connor’s eyes.
Raoul had just poured drinks, wine for Holly and a beer for Connor, when people started to arrive. The steady stream kept him busy. Staring up at a painting of Louis XVI’s execution by guillotine, Connor whispered, ‘Not receptive to good old Gallic charm, I see.’ He was grinning.
Holly, also pretending to study the old and obviously valuable picture, delivered a withering look. ‘Not when it’s conducted with all the sincerity of a hungry cat apologising to a mouse.’
As introductions and polite chitchat gathered momentum, a strikingly beautiful woman in her mid-thirties appeared on the winding staircase. She paused to survey the now crowded reception room and swept down to join the throng. She was dressed from head to toe in cream: a silk scarf wound Bedouin-style around her head, long silk caftan, cream-coloured open sandals. The only break from that single colour was her jewellery. She wore gold, lots of gold, around her neck, on her arms, and dangling from her ears. The cream and gold combined perfectly to enhance the rich amber of her flawless skin.
‘Ah, there you are, my darling.’ Raoul made an elaborate fuss over the new arrival. ‘Come and meet our special guests.’
Even before the introductions were made, Holly realised she was looking at Kathleen’s daughter.
Raoul, the woman’s father, introduced Anne-Marie as his sister. Holly examined the coldly beautiful face. Of her mother there was little evidence. A family resemblance, yes, if you looked hard enough, but time and arrogance had chiselled the face into something cold and hard. Kathleen’s softness might have been there once but now there was no sign of it. Anne-Marie had her mother’s eyes, but only in shape. And the look she was giving her father was one of pure hatred.
Raoul left Holly and Anne-Marie together while he greeted more people. ‘I understand you live in France.’ Holly could have bitten her tongue. That information had come from Kathleen.
But Anne-Marie didn’t notice the slip. ‘Yes.’
‘You grew up here though, didn’t you?’
Anne-Marie’s eyes swept contemptuously around the walls. ‘Not in this house. The original one burned down last year. My parents were killed in the fire.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Hostile brown eyes bored into her. ‘Why on earth should you be sorry?’
‘It must have been . . .’
Anne-Marie’s gold-encrusted hand swept aside Holly’s unfinished response. ‘I wasn’t sorry then and I’m not sorry now. Does that satisfy your curiosity?’ With a curt nod she moved away, leaving Holly standing on her own.
Connor seemed to materialise out of nowhere. ‘Is that who I think it is?’
Holly nodded.
‘And did her words match the expression?’
‘Afraid so.’
A sudden hush in conversation served to emphasise the supposedly whispered words of several women in the room. Holly turned to see what had caused the silence. Madame Liang Song stood poised in the doorway, an expression of contempt challenging anyone to question her presence. Solange Dulac appeared frozen in mid-slurp, her knuckles white around the raised glass of cognac. Raoul, wearing the smug smile of a contented cat, threaded his way through the crowd as he called an attention-getting greeting. His eyes, as he bent over the Chinese girl’s hand, gleamed with malice.
A woman laughed and resumed her conversation. Slowly, the buzz of voices picked up again. Holly found she’d been holding her breath and let it out in a rush. ‘How the other half live,’ she commented quietly to Connor.
‘I told you, he has no morals. It’s like Kathleen said, he believes he’s untouchable.’
‘I didn’t like him when I first met him. After Kathleen’s story, I can hardly bear to look at him. He disgusts me.’
‘Getting ideas for your article?’
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted candidly. ‘This is not exactly typical.’
‘You can say that again,’ Connor concurred. ‘The entire Dulac family are conspicuous by their arrogance. Most French Mauritians are warmhearted, genuinely friendly people.’
‘I’m glad you mentioned it,’ Holly said in an undertone, moving to join a nearby group. ‘I hope I can find some.’
As Sunday lunch parties went, this turned out to be a good one. Connor was right, most of the guests were friendly and interesting people. When it came out that Holly was putting together an article about Mauritius for an Australian publication, most people she spoke to appeared concerned that a French-only perspective would be misleading. When she explained that this was not the intention, they were keen to answer any questions or provide quotable anecdotes about life on the island. Several times Holly picked up on innuendo that the Dulac family were not particularly popular.
She was standing momentarily alone, when a young man, aged no more than twenty, introduced himself. ‘Welcome to the illustrious palace,’ were his opening words. ‘I’m Guy Dulac. Been watching you. You interest me.’
‘Holly Jones.’ He was immensely tall, not far short of two metres, and standing as close as he was Holly was forced to tilt her head back to look at him. ‘Are you Raoul’s son?’
‘Indeed.’ He smiled and his teeth were very white against the deeply tanned skin. ‘Who and what are you, Holly Jones?’
Unless Holly missed her guess, he was flirting with her. ‘I’m an Australian journalist doing a feature on Mauritius. Raoul thought I’d find a Franco-Mauritian angle interesting.’
‘And do you?’
‘Very. It’s an important part of something really quite complex.’
He turned his head to greet someone and Holly noticed he wore his blond hair long, like his father, and tied back with a strip of leather. When he looked back he made no attempt to hide the fact that he found her attractive. Holly might have been flattered if he hadn’t been so disturbingly intense. His blue eyes roved over her face and body and the smile on his lips was intimate and self-assured. His words could have been taken one of two ways. ‘This is your lucky day. I’m French-Mauritian and you are welcome to me. I can satisfy your every need.’
A younger girl might have been bowled over by his attention. He was certainly good-looking enough. ‘That’s very kind of you, but –’
‘But nothing.’ He bowed deeply, sweeping one arm across the space between them in cavalier fashion. ‘I insist you let me help. You will have my undivided attention.’ Straightening, he added, ‘All day and all night if necessary.’
Holly began to feel uncomfortable. He was charming, she’d give him that, but she had never felt at ease with men who said one thing with their mouth while their eyes advertised something quite different. Guy Dulac was making it very plain that he fancied her. ‘I’ll let you know,’ she said lamely.
He would not be fobbed off. ‘What are you doing later?’
‘Having dinner with a friend.’ The lie came easily enough.
‘Can’t you get out of it?’ Guy looked so disappointed she almost felt sorry for him.
‘Not possible, I’m afraid.’
‘I’ll be in Rodrigues.’
‘Tonight then. Call me after your dinner.’
Holly was starting to feel irritated. ‘It will probably be a late night.’
Guy sighed theatrically. ‘He’s a very lucky man.’
‘Actually,’ Holly said, smiling sweetly, ‘it’s a her. I’m gay.’ She wandered off, leaving Guy Dulac staring after her and fresh out of words.
Twenty minutes later, Connor caught up with her as she stood chatting to a neighbour from an adjoining estate. When they were alone he bent his head and asked quietly, ‘I’ve just been talking to Guy Dulac. Did you really tell him you were gay?’
‘Yes.’
His eyebrows were raised, dimples in place, and she didn’t know whether he was trying not to laugh or cover up surprise. All he said, however, was, ‘Charming!’ before moving off to circulate.
Holly had been aware that Madame Liang Song kept staring at her, so she crossed the room to find out why. ‘We meet again.’
Liang Song nodded briefly. ‘So we do.’
‘Forgive me for saying so, but at our interview the other day I rather got the impression that the Chinese community, especially someone of your background, didn’t mix socially with the French.’
‘I never said that.’
‘No, but the implication was clearly there. It’s something I’ve included in the article and I’d hate to be wrong.’ Holly looked guilelessly at the Chinese woman.
‘I’m a business acquaintance. There’s a difference.’
‘That explains it then,’ Holly said softly.
Liang Song changed the subject. ‘You seem to be keeping quite regular company with Mr Maguire. I gather he’s changed his mind about an interview.’
‘Connor Maguire is news. He accepts that.’
A smile, or was it a sneer, crossed Madame Liang’s face. ‘He won’t find any treasure.’
‘Perhaps, but he sure as hell is going to try. Anyway, it’s for a good cause.’
Raoul joined them. ‘I see you two have met. Good.’ He looked across at his wife. ‘Solange, chéri,’ he called, loudly enough for most of the room to hear. ‘Do come and talk to us.’
Solange Dulac, with apprehension written all over her face, obeyed. She was charming, gracious and as drunk as a lord. Holly found herself in complete sympathy with the woman. Not that she allowed it to show. Madame Dulac was the kind of person who would despise sympathy when sober. Inebriated, she’d more than likely make a scene. Anne-Marie joined the group.
Great, Holly thought. Now all we need is the amorous son.
As if on cue, Guy Dulac appeared at her side.
From the conversation that followed it was obvious that these five people had very little time for each other. Holly endured a few minutes of thinly disguised hostility before excusing herself with polite words and moving away.
The buffet lunch was late but well worth the delay. White-coated servants glided in with silver platters loaded with hot and cold food. Holly remembered Kathleen saying she had waited at table in the old house. Somehow, she couldn’t picture the serene little nun in a place like this. Guests piled their plates high and found somewhere to sit. There was nothing formal at this gathering. Holly perched on a sofa and was joined by a portly gentleman who introduced himself as Francois Prost. He turned out to be the acting police surgeon, out from France to do a locum and due to fly home in about a month. Holly wanted to find out about his work but Anne-Marie arrived and sat on his other side. The Frenchman’s attention wavered, switched allegiance, then galloped away, leaving Holly to silently wish him the best of luck. Whether it was Anne-Marie’s beauty or obvious wealth that had attracted Prost’s interest she didn’t know, but if the woman’s expression and lacklustre responses were anything to go by, Francois Prost’s time and energy were being seriously wasted.
Deciding to skip coffee, Holly went in search of a bathroom. There was one off the entrance hall but it was occupied and two people were waiting. Coming back into the crowded reception room, she saw Solange Dulac sitting alone and asked if there was another that she might use. Solange pointed upwards. ‘Upshtairs, shecond door on the left.’ Holly climbed the curved staircase to the first floor, located the door and opened it. She was in a bedroom. It was large, light and airy with French doors opening on to a balcony. No personal belongings. The room appeared unoccupied. An equally uninhabited bathroom opened off it. Relief! She shut and locked the door behind her.
Holly had only seen such luxuriously appointed bathrooms in the pages of magazines. Toilet and bidet, spa bath, shower raised on a dais, twin vanity basins, mirrors everywhere, floor to ceiling marble, gold taps, exquisitely monogrammed towels – it was almost decadent. She loved it! About to flush the toilet and leave, Holly heard conversation coming from the bedroom – male voices. She hesitated, recognising Raoul’s. Making a noise to announce her presence was the logical thing to do, but instinct told her that whatever had brought these two upstairs for a private chat might be interesting. So she did what any self-respecting journalist would – eavesdropped. It took only seconds to discover that the other man was Justin Parker.
‘You weren’t there long enough to know that,’ Raoul barked, sounding angry. ‘You knew I wanted you to stay there.’
‘I’m telling you, Rodrigues is not the place. Nothing matches.’
‘So why is Maguire going there tomorrow? He must have a good reason. And he’s taking that reporter girl.’
Raoul was getting closer to the locked bathroom. He went past the door.
‘You’ll have to go back. You were a fool to leave. I told you to wait for Maguire.’
‘I thought I would be of more use back here.’ Justin sounded sulky.
‘Well don’t think.’ The voice kept moving. Obviously Raoul was pacing. ‘Just do as you are told. And don’t come to the house again. What if Maguire, or the girl, had seen you?’
‘What if they did? You might have invited me.’
‘I’d prefer it if Maguire doesn’t connect the two of us.’
Justin’s voice sounded puzzled. ‘Look, I appreciate you don’t want him horning in on the treasure but your need for secrecy over our association is bordering on paranoia. What’s the harm in anyone finding out we know each other?’
‘Maguire is tough,’ Raoul snapped. ‘The less he knows the better.’
‘What’s he going to do?’ Justin mocked. ‘Kill us?’
‘Don’t be stupid. And don’t underestimate the man. I’ve done business with him. He’s good. Do it my way, Justin, and keep our association to yourself.’
The voice was still moving.
Holly tensed. Please don’t let either of them decide to use the bathroom.
Justin spoke again. ‘I’ll get the morning plane. Maguire and Holly will be on it but she thinks I’m looking for dodo eggs.’
‘No. Better they don’t know you’re there. We might need that element of surprise. I’ve got some business to attend to on Rodrigues. We’ll take the boat. Get yourself up to Cap Malheureux. Wait for me on the jetty. I’ll be there as soon as I can decently leave here.’
‘How long will the trip take?’
‘About twenty-four hours.’
‘Then we won’t be there ahead of Maguire.’
Raoul’s frustration was obvious. ‘It’s the best we can do. If the treasure is on Rodrigues he won’t waste time, he’ll go straight for it. Dammit, Justin! Why didn’t you stay there?’
Justin’s voice turned nasty. ‘I’ve already told you, there is nowhere on Rodrigues that matches the map.’
‘Then there must be more.’ Raoul sounded puzzled. ‘I know the man. He’s got information that we don’t. Maguire plays the odds. Doesn’t mind risk but he’s methodical, leaves little to chance.’ Holly heard him snapping his fingers as he spoke. ‘Maguire knows something else. There was rumour of a journal. He might have got his hands on it, or some other piece of evidence. Maybe he’s found a copy of the map.’ Raoul sighed heavily. ‘No matter. You just have to find him and observe, understand?’
‘What if he finds it?’
‘Let me know. Do not approach him.’
‘But half of it’s mine.’ Justin was sulky again. He didn’t like being told what to do.
‘Half of nothing, my friend, is nothing. And that’s precisely what we’ll end up with if you’re not careful. You’d do well to remember that. Now, unless there’s anything else, I’ll see you tonight. I must return to my guests.’
Holly heard the two men leave and blew out a shaky breath. Waiting a good five minutes, she flushed the toilet, quickly crossed the bedroom, cautiously checked the passage beyond and set off in search of Connor. She did not notice Raoul narrow his eyes when he saw her coming back down the stairs.
Connor looked relieved to see her. ‘I was just thinking of a search party. Where did you get to?’
‘Let’s take a walk in the gardens.’
‘Nothing I’d like better.’ His voice was dry.
She waited until they were well away from the house before relating all that had happened. Connor didn’t seem unduly worried by confirmation of Justin’s association with Raoul. He was more concerned that Holly might have been discovered eavesdropping on their conversation. ‘Did they mention anything other than William’s treasure?’
‘No.’ Holly leaned towards him and lowered her voice. ‘You don’t think that Justin is involved with that D-word you hate me to mention?’
‘It crossed my mind but no, I don’t.’ His eyes warned her to say no more.
Holly ignored him. ‘Then what’s going on?’
‘Two things. They’re not connected.’
‘But, if . . .’
Connor turned her to face him, his hands holding her arms. ‘Woman, don’t you ever let up?’
Holly shrugged. ‘There’s a story on the wind. It’s like –’
‘The scent of blood to a hungry lion,’ he finished for her, letting his hands drop. ‘Are you about finished here? I’ve had the social scene in chunks.’
‘But we’re supposed to be the Dulacs’ special guests. It’s too soon for us to leave.’
‘I don’t know how to break this to you,’ Connor told her heavily, ‘but you and I could spontaneously combust in front of Solange and Raoul and neither of them would give a monkey’s.’
Holly knew he was right.
They made their farewells using the early flight to Rodrigues as an excuse. Raoul managed to appear disappointed that they were leaving so soon, Solange didn’t even know, having already retired. Anne-Marie stood in for her. ‘So nice to meet you,’ she murmured, offering one perfumed cheek and then the other. Guy Dulac watched them leave with brooding eyes but made no attempt to come and say goodbye.
‘Whew!’ Connor breathed, as they drove away. ‘I just can’t believe that she’s Kathleen’s daughter.’
‘What is it you Catholics say?’ Holly asked. ‘Give a priest a child for the first five years and he’ll be a Catholic for the rest of his life.’
‘I’m not a Catholic.’
‘With a nun in the family and a name like Maguire! Who lapsed?’
‘God knows.’
‘He’s probably the only one who does.’
Connor ignored the comment. ‘There has to be something inherited from her mother.’
‘If there is, it’s well buried. Or, more likely, it died a long time ago.’
*
At the hotel, Holly was surprised when Connor parked the car and came with her. She expected him to simply drop her off. ‘Going somewhere?’
‘Your room.’
‘Any particular reason?’ Damn! Her heart started hammering.
‘We haven’t discussed Rodrigues.’
‘That reminds me. Give me the ticket details and I’ll see that Out of Focus repays you. Ditto the accommodation.’
‘I’m not worried about that. We need a plan.’
‘A few days ago you said that there’s one place on Rodrigues that sort of matches the map. Surely that’s it? Our plan, I mean.’
Connor didn’t answer.
There were no messages at reception when she picked up her key.
‘Help yourself to a drink.’
‘No thanks.’
Holly shrugged out of her jacket, threw it over a chair and kicked off her shoes. Connor had crossed to the sofa. ‘Come and sit down.’
She joined him.
‘I haven’t been entirely honest with you.’
Holly grinned. ‘Surprise, surprise! I have to tell you, Maguire, that I find your lack of interest in finding buried treasure outstanding in its intensity. You barely avoid yawning whenever the subject comes up. It’s a cover for something else. That D-word keeps popping into my head.’
‘And you said it was too risky to do a drug story without back-up security.’
‘So? What keeps you here? If you don’t believe I’m looking for treasure, why stay?’
Holly chewed her bottom lip while she thought about it. ‘For some reason better known to yourself, and my father no doubt, you have to appear as if you’re up to another newsworthy charity stunt. And, in your own inimitable style, you are doing just enough to give it credibility. The uncharacteristic lack of publicity is to make sure nobody looks too hard and discovers another agenda altogether. With your luck, you’ll probably find the bloody treasure, but whether you do or don’t doesn’t actually matter. The mere attempt will make fascinating reading. You are the news, Maguire, not the treasure. The Australian public love you to bits. Anything you do is okay by them. That’s the bottom line and the reason I’m still here.’
Connor made no comment. She was stating fact, nothing more. Instead, he picked up on his concerns for her safety. ‘Then you’ll drop all this hidden agenda stuff?’
She couldn’t fathom him. ‘Why should I? You’re the one who wanted to avoid the subject.’
‘I do. It’s just that . . .’ he looked away, his voice soft. ‘It’s just that I’m a bit concerned you are getting mixed up in something about which you know nothing and which could prove dangerous to you, or me, or even both of us. That’s why.’
‘I’m extremely touched.’
His voice hardened. ‘This is not a game, Holly.’
‘What are you really, Maguire?’ When he didn’t answer, she went on. ‘Because you’re sure as hell not the adventurous playboy you pretend.’
He turned back and grabbed both her arms. His eyes glittered with emotion – frustration, anger? Holly stared back at him, unflinching. She saw his look, almost of despair, as one hand reached for her face and his finger gently traced a line around her jaw. With a shuddering breath he pulled her to him, his lips seeking hers. There was passion and a kind of desperation in the kiss, as though afraid of whatever lay ahead. Through the thin material of his shirt she could feel him shaking. ‘Holly!’ His voice was hoarse. ‘You are the most exasperating woman I’ve ever known.’
‘You have a funny way of showing it, Maguire.’ The sting was softened by the fact that she was still in his arms, her lips the merest whisper from his.
Pulling back a little, he gazed deeply into her eyes. ‘Go home, Holly. Please.’
‘No.’
He sighed, brushed his lips gently over hers, then gathered her close and kissed her again. When they broke apart Holly’s breathing was unsteady.
‘This is wrong.’ Connor sounded anguished. ‘Go home, damn you. Keep this on ice until the job is done. Promise me . . . baby . . . Holly. You don’t know what you’re getting into.’
But Holly was kissing him, not listening. He’d told her to feel, not think. She was full of feeling. If she’d thought about it she’d have wondered what the hell was the matter with her. But whatever it was, it was afflicting Connor as well. Reason fled, commonsense melted away, personal hang-ups were forgotten, past hurts no longer counted. Holly Jones and Connor Maguire might have been forgiven for feeling that they’d been born for this particular moment.
A long time later Connor stirred, nuzzled her neck and asked, ‘Are you awake?’
It seemed a funny sort of question to ask. ‘You can’t seriously think I’m asleep.’
Holly raised herself on one elbow and looked down at him. He was quite a mixture. His lovemaking had been tender and passionate, and he’d remembered her sore ribs, taking great care not to hurt her. Suave, cheeky yet vulnerable, these traits were all there in his face. And a little bit extra. Sensitivity that was strictly his own. It was an irresistible combination. She realised suddenly that all the empty spaces inside her had been filled. There was no longer the hollow feeling of betrayal, loneliness or anger. She was complete again. It didn’t matter if the relationship with this man would last, or if he’d want to take it further, or even, for that matter, if she’d want to. All Holly knew for certain was that he had swept away her inability to trust. With that finally gone, she could take the first step towards the rest of her life. None of these thoughts showed. She simply smiled at him and said, ‘Maguire, you are one beautiful man.’
‘Jones.’ He looked serious. ‘You are one beautiful woman.’
‘But,’ she said, snuggling into him with her head on his shoulder, ‘you’re not off the hook. I think you have something to tell me. The diversionary tactics were very good but I’m not a guppy. My memory is excellent. As I recall, you confessed to being dishonest.’
‘I did not.’
‘I haven’t been entirely honest with you, quote, unquote,’ she repeated his words. ‘Same thing.’
‘What do you mean, diversionary tactics?’
‘You’re doing it again, Maguire. Talk to me.’
He was weakening. ‘I’ll hate myself in the morning.’ He tried appealing to her better nature.
‘Hard luck.’ Holly was damned if she’d fall for it. She had no problem shelving her better nature when the necessity arose.
‘My only concern is keeping you safe. That’s why I’m prepared to talk.’
‘Ta.’
She heard a smile in his voice. ‘I’d have told you earlier but you seduced me.’
‘Didn’t.’
‘Shameless. You don’t care, do you?’
‘Nope.’
He moved to prop himself over her. ‘I didn’t want this to happen.’
‘It’s happened.’
‘How do you feel about it?’
‘I feel good about it.’
‘Good?’
‘Okay. Better than good.’
He kissed the end of her nose. ‘Since it’s obvious you’re not going to ask, I’ll volunteer the information that I feel better than good about it too.’
Connor’s lips moved over her cheek to just below her ear and then back, along the line of her jaw to rest firmly on her lips.
‘Nice try, Maguire,’ Holly mumbled, returning his kiss.
‘It’s not my fault,’ Connor objected, revisiting her ear. ‘My diversionary tactic has just developed rigor mortis.’
‘I’m not a government agent, a police officer or anyone official, that’s the first thing you should know.’
Connor was propped against a stack of pillows, the sheet pulled up to just below his navel, a glass of wine in hand. Holly sat cross-legged next to him, acutely aware of his brown, lean body and how it had felt in her arms. Draped in a beach robe, her wine on the bedside table, she experienced the deepest desire to pounce on this man beside her and kiss him all over. She resisted the temptation. Reluctantly.
It was six in the evening, and as pre-dinner drinkies and some small talk went, this promised to be, in her own words, a lulu. Connor had been amused when she’d expressed that opinion but was now semiserious. ‘I didn’t want to tell you, I didn’t want to get involved with you and I don’t want you with me. So how come nothing seems to be going my way?’
She’d shrugged. ‘Some people sure know how to make a girl feel good.’
Half-smile, half-dimple. ‘You know what I mean.’
‘Agreed. I just don’t know why.’
‘I could kill for a cigarette.’
‘Likewise for some information, Maguire.’
‘Okay.’ He sighed. ‘I’m not a government agent, a police officer or anyone official, that’s the first thing you should know. I’m acting on my own, and if it goes wrong, I could be in deep sticky brown stuff. That’s why I don’t want you involved.’
There was no doubting his concern. Holly felt a rush of appreciation that this man sincerely cared about her safety. That, and apprehension for his. ‘I’m listening.’
‘My first wife, Diana, was a stunner,’ Connor began. ‘We were eighteen when we met, twenty-three when we married. She . . . I loved her very much, but I was too young and inexperienced to realise that she needed constant reassurance. As I told you last night, while I was building for our future, she was destroying herself.’ He sipped his wine. ‘With the booze and cocaine came the inevitable undesirables. We started fighting about her friends. In the end, she ran off with one of them.’
Holly could imagine his confusion and hurt.
‘For a while I clung to the hope that she’d come to her senses and return. I blamed myself and wanted to understand what went wrong, to find a way of avoiding the same mistakes. Where to start was a problem. I had no experience of drug addiction or alcoholism. All I knew was that I had to be there for her when she came home.’
Without thinking about it, Holly rose from the bed and picked up Connor’s discarded shirt. She found cigarettes, lit one, inhaled with the silent satisfaction of a person who had given up but would really rather not have, and passed the cigarette to Connor. Taking it without comment, he kissed her his thanks.
‘One thing led to another. I met with all sorts of groups. Some trying rehabilitation, others counselling the addict and their family. You name it, it’s been tried. Tough penalties, educational programs, individuals going into the streets and devoting their lives to saving others, shooting galleries, scare tactics, alternative drugs.’ Connor ran a hand through his hair. ‘Jesus, Holly! The world has turned itself inside out to help these people but nothing seems to work.’
‘I wouldn’t say that,’ Holly said gently. ‘Although I can see how it must seem like that to you.’
‘The more I looked into it, the more hopeless it became. I grabbed a few headlines, blamed a few government departments, raised some money for research, generally made a noise, but it got me nowhere. Diana never came back. Then, out of the blue, I received a phone call. This person represented a particular syndicate . . . and no, I can’t mention their name . . . that had been extremely active and quite successful in tipping off Customs whenever a large consignment of drugs was due to be smuggled into Australia. Apparently they’d been following my one-man crusade for some time. They’d seen what I was trying to do. There is nothing vigilante about them but . . .’ he hesitated, ‘. . . let’s just say that they are well connected, work outside the usual channels and, in order to succeed, sometimes find it necessary to break the law themselves. They believed that with my commercial connections and networks I could be useful to them. At first I wasn’t keen to get involved. It seemed way out of my league. I had businesses to run and, because of my profile, it’s not easy for me to do anything without the media getting to hear of it.’ He cocked one eyebrow at Holly.
‘Guilty.’ Holly raised an arm.
He smiled slightly. ‘I said no. They didn’t push it.’
‘What changed your mind?’
‘Time passed. I remarried, probably on the rebound and was regretting it within two months. What was it you said? Choose a wife with your ear, not your eye?’
‘Not my wisdom. I found it in a book of proverbs.’
Connor offered her the cigarette but she shook her head.
‘Events kind of took over. Our marriage broke up, the press learned of it and, for a week or so, it was splashed all over the gossip columns. The group made contact again.’
Holly cut in. ‘I know I asked earlier but I’ll run it past you again. Is Raoul involved?’
The answer was the same. ‘To be absolutely honest, I don’t know. He’s having an affair with Liang Song, has the right connections, no conscience, is insatiably greedy. I’m guessing he’s probably involved with her European side of the business but the Australian deal . . .’ Connor shrugged. ‘I’d have expected him to leak something, show off a bit, let me know that he knows. He’s that kind of man.’
‘I agree.’
‘Liang Song needs my connections in Australia. Raoul doesn’t have them. Up to now, Madame Liang has been concentrating on Europe and has established a successful network on the continent. Now she’s looking to expand. Mainland Africa is not a lucrative option. The Nigerians have got it tightly sewn up. But the west coast of Australia is wide open.’
Holly had a flash of insight. ‘It would serve your purpose quite nicely if Raoul were involved. That way, if Madame Liang goes under in the Australian deal the rest of her drug business is likely to come to light and, if Raoul is involved with her, he’ll most likely go under too. Is that what this is all about? Getting even for the shipping failure?’
Connor’s eyes were unreadable but a deeply felt emotion flickered in them briefly. ‘Yes.’
She was disappointed. There was a spiteful element in his plan that she hadn’t expected. ‘So you said yes when you were approached for a second time?’
‘Not right away. I had the same worries as before. Told them I’d think it over and took a long-promised trip to Ireland.’
‘Which was when you found William’s journal?’
‘Correct. It was like fate had pointed me in this direction. I didn’t have much of a plan but it seemed to me that by being here I might be able to dig up enough dirt on Raoul to pay him back. I decided that a search for William’s treasure would make the perfect smokescreen. On my return to Australia I said I’d help but only if they had something for me on Mauritius. They did. So here I am.’
‘To do what exactly?’ Holly thought she knew but wanted it clarified.
His dark eyes bored into hers. ‘That’s a big ask, Holly.’
‘I know.’ She held his gaze. ‘You can trust me,’ she added quietly.
‘Yes.’ He nodded. ‘I suppose you do need to know. You’re pig-headed enough to go off halfcocked if I don’t explain. Besides, you are already too connected for my liking. If this goes wrong . . .’ He let it hang. ‘Madame Liang and I are setting up a trading company.’
‘To deal in drugs?’
‘That’s the plan.’
‘Wait just a minute here, Maguire. This mysterious group who need you to front for them. How do they fit in? It’s all very well for them, you’re the one in the hot seat. What if you’re caught? Australia would lock you up and throw away the key.’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘But . . .’
Stubbing out the cigarette, Connor leaned over, put his arms around her and pulled her down to him. When he had her snuggled to his satisfaction, he said, ‘Shut up and listen.’
Holly fumed briefly but decided to do as she was told.
‘As I said, there’s nothing official about this. But . . .’ he stressed the word, ‘I’m not as far out on a limb as it might seem. If I screw up, the Australian government will deny all knowledge of my activities. If I’m successful, they’ll take the credit. I don’t exist and neither does the group I’m doing this for. We do, however, have Canberra’s unofficial blessing.’
‘So all you have to worry about is being dead and discredited.’
He hugged her into him. ‘It won’t come to that. If the deal goes wrong my name will be kept out of it.’
‘You’re messing with the Triads for God’s sake, Maguire. You don’t half live life on the edge.’
‘I believe in this, Holly.’
She saw how serious he was. ‘For Diana?’
‘Yes.’
‘And she’s too far gone to know the risk you’re taking on her behalf?’
‘She’s dead, Holly. Found in some Kings Cross hotel room a few months ago. Overdose.’
‘I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’
‘Where were you at the time? Siberia? It was all over the papers.’
‘A few months ago I wasn’t very interested in anything.’
‘Yes.’
‘I can identify with that.’
Holly kissed his bare shoulder. ‘I like you,’ she said softly.
‘Thank you.’ He kissed her hair. ‘I could get used to this.’
‘One more thing.’
‘I rather thought there might be.’ His lips were still against her hair. ‘Are you always so persistent?’
‘Always.’
‘What’s your question?’ He was nibbling her ear.
She moved slightly. ‘Mmmm. I can’t think straight when you do that.’
‘I’ll bear that in mind.’ His eyes smiled at her. ‘I get the impression that you’ll occasionally need controlling.’
‘I’m not a horse, Maguire.’
He grinned.
‘How far down the track are you with Liang Song?’
‘The groundwork’s been done. The company has been established. Arrangements made. Just the last-minute hiccups that usually crop up. Madame Liang is keen for this to proceed but she’s understandably cautious. She knows that if anything goes wrong, fur will fly all over the world. It’s big, Holly. Liang Song thinks we’re setting up a regular trade route but she accepts that our first consignment will be the easiest. Australian authorities would quickly pick up on any increase of heroin in the market and it wouldn’t take them long to make the Mauritian connection. For that reason the initial delivery will be massive, bigger than anything anyone has attempted before. The whole stockpile, in fact. And Customs will grab the lot. Madame Liang isn’t as clever as she thinks. The link will be made back to her, I can make sure of that. By busting the attempt to breach Australian shores, her whole European network should also break down. It’s a one-off hit.’
‘What about her family? Are they in on it?’
‘A few. Not on the Liang side. Sadly, Liang Song’s father-in-law is as honourable a gentleman as you’d hope to find. He hasn’t a clue what she is doing. She’s got some unsavoury relations, particularly two of her uncles.’
‘Those two who followed me?’
‘The very same.’
Holly thought for a moment. ‘If you pull this off, what guarantee do you have that the Triad won’t come after you? They’re not exactly known for their forgiving nature.’
‘That’s been taken care of.’
‘How?’
‘Better you don’t know.’
‘Maguire!’
‘I can’t tell you.’
‘Okay,’ she said slowly. ‘How about this? You are a very clever businessman, well versed in the practice of covering corporate tracks. If the Australian government is backing you, albeit unofficially, some kind of insurance policy must be in place, a watertight safety net perhaps. Am I on the right track? At least tell me that much.’
‘Close enough. Now can you please drop it?’
She did. ‘Raoul?’
‘Hurt him financially. Maybe a spell in prison. Get back at him somehow.’
She gave him a shrewd look. ‘That’s the only thing that doesn’t make sense. It’s out of character.’
Again, a deep pain crossed his eyes. ‘Trust me, Holly. It’s not.’
There was something else, something she couldn’t put her finger on. A failed business deal on its own should have been shrugged off. Holding a grudge did not seem like Connor Maguire’s style. Holly let it go. He obviously wasn’t going to tell her any more. ‘So you’re not really searching for William Maguire’s treasure at all?’
‘Well yes, I am actually. It’s for a good cause and it’s the kind of thing that appeals to me.’
‘Rodrigues. Is that treasure or drugs?’
‘I’ve always wanted to go there. Haven’t you?’
‘Maguire!’
‘Treasure,’ he yelped, when she dug fingers into his ribs.
‘Maguire!’ Her fingers were poised for another prod.
‘And drugs. There’s a connection. My trip there is to meet somebody.’
Holly was absently stroking Connor’s chest. ‘The other day when you deserted me in the restaurant, who did you need to speak to?’
‘A contact. He’s Australian, fluent in French and under deep cover. He’s . . . I can’t tell you any more, Holly.’
‘He wasn’t the only reason you chose that particular restaurant. You knew Liang Song was in there.’
‘Killing two birds with the one stone. I wanted to rattle her.’
‘Why?’
‘She’s a very good businesswoman. Give an inch and before you know it, you’ve lost the edge. I just wanted to let her know that she could be found, anywhere, at any time. That’s all.’
‘Fair enough. But what if Madame Liang had seen you together with this contact?’
‘She didn’t. As soon as he knew I’d seen him he made himself scarce. We met at a prearranged rendezvous. Anyway, she’d have no idea who or what he is. He’s kept well away from her and her associates.’
Holly’s hand slipped under the sheet. ‘There’s just one other thing, Maguire.’
‘What?’ He breathed in sharply as her fingers found him.
‘This was not supposed to happen.’
‘No,’ he agreed, his arms tightening around her. ‘But if you stop now I’ll become seriously depressed. Probably never recover.’ He grinned. ‘Total decline. Can you handle the responsibility?’
She was laughing with him. ‘God no, Maguire. I’d hate that on my conscience.’
‘Good girl.’