‘Naughty! Naughty!’ he admonished her. ‘That isn’t at all PC.’ Secretly he was not unhappy with the result. Surely there had to be a limit to her spending?
‘I am not objecting to his skin colour. It’s the size of his wallet that really galls me.’ It took a little sweet talking and a lot of loving before she regained her good humour.
Russia was the next stop on their movable honeymoon feast. As always the Hermitage museum in St Petersburg enchanted them with its vast array of treasures that the Bolshevik revolutionaries had plundered from their own doomed aristocrats. However in Moscow things turned a little sour once more. For the past two years Bannock Oil had been involved in a courtship dance with the Russian oil giant Gazprom. The proposed project was a joint venture in deepwater exploration of gas deposits in the Gulf of Anadyr in the Bering Sea. Bannock had spent tens of millions on bringing this proposal to the bargaining table. Now it ran into the iceberg of Russian intransigence and sank without a trace.
‘Insufferable Russkies! I have to punish them somehow,’ Hazel fumed at Hector when they settled once more into the lulling luxury of the salon in the BBJ, and took off for Osaka. ‘I think I am going to have to seriously boycott their caviar and vodka.’
‘If you destroy the Russian economy that way, just think of those millions of cute little Russian babies who will starve to death because of you.’
‘God! You are a bleeding heart, Mr Cross! Okay. I give in. I never did fancy the Bering Sea, anyway. I hear it’s dreadfully cold up there.’ Hector called the chief steward on the intercom.
‘Please bring Mrs Cross her usual Dovgan vodka and lime juice.’
‘Not bad!’ Hazel gave her opinion as she tasted it. ‘But isn’t there anything for afters?’ She glanced at the door to the Versace bedroom.
‘I did have something in mind,’ he admitted.
‘Goody! Goody!’ she said.
In the shipyards of Osaka the mighty tanker stood on the slipway ready for launching. The entire board of Bannock Oil and a number of other dignitaries, including the Prime Minister of Japan, the Emir of Abu Zara and the US Ambassador to Japan, were assembled to witness the event.
The interior of the ship was still unfinished. She would sail with a skeleton crew to Chi-Lung, the seaport of Taipei in Taiwan, where she would undergo the final fitting out and the installation of the revolutionary new cargo tanks. A lift took the guests to the top of the scaffold at the bows of the hull, where they were seated in the aerial auditorium. They applauded as Hazel went to the front edge of the platform to name and launch the great ship. From such a height she felt as though she were standing on the peak of a mountain with the world far below her. The substitute for champagne that she was to break against the steel hull was a magnum of Australian sparkling chardonnay.
When Hector had queried her choice of wine she told him seriously, ‘We aren’t going to drink it, darling. We’re going to smash it to little bits. I don’t want to get the reputation of being spendthrift.’
‘Extremely abstemious of you, my love,’ he agreed. Fifty photographers had their lenses focused on her as she made her speech from the front of the high platform. Her voice was magnified by the loudspeakers until it echoed and reverberated around the yard below her where thousands of workers were assembled.
‘This ship is a monument to the genius of my deceased husband Henry Bannock. He created and controlled the Bannock Oil Corporation for forty years. His nickname was The Goose. Therefore I name this ship the Golden Goose. God bless and protect her and all who sail in her.’ The Golden Goose slid broadside down the slipway and when she entered the water she raised a tidal wave that rocked every other vessel in the basin. They sounded their foghorns and all the spectators cheered and clapped. There were another three days of meetings and banquets before Hector and Hazel were able to escape again.
They flew up to the Shinto temple of auspicious memories below Mount Fujiyama. Their hectic itinerary had left both of them close to exhaustion, so after their obligatory visit to the sacred cherry tree in the temple orchard they returned to their suite and bathed together in the hot tub. As they lay there soaking in the almost scalding waters, Hazel reached out for her mobile phone and switched it on.
‘Five missed messages from Dunkeld,’ she murmured lazily as she wriggled her toes against his back. ‘I wonder what Mater wants. She isn’t usually so persistent. I wonder what the time difference is?’
‘Cape Town is about seven hours behind us here. It’s just after lunchtime there.’
‘Okay, I’ll try and return her calls.’ Hazel punched in the number and it was answered within a dozen rings.
‘Hello, Uncle John. It’s Hazel,’ she said and then broke off, and listened with dawning astonishment. Then she interrupted him.
‘Uncle John, why won’t you let me speak to her?’ Her temper was rising sharply. ‘All right! Damn it. Here he is.’ She covered the mouthpiece with her hand.
‘He won’t put me through to Mater, and he won’t tell me anything. He only wants to speak to you.’ Hector took the phone from her.
‘John? It’s me, Hector. What’s going on?’ There was a silence on the other end of the line, but then he heard the painfully laboured sounds of a grown man weeping. ‘For God’s sake, John. Speak to me.’
‘I don’t know what to do,’ John sobbed. ‘She’s gone, and now there is nobody to take her place.’
‘You’re not making sense, John. Get a hold of yourself.’
‘It’s Grace. She is dead. You and Hazel have to come. Now. Immediately. Please, Hector. You must bring Hazel. I don’t know what to tell her. I don’t know what to do.’ The line went dead. Hector looked at Hazel. She was deathly pale and her eyes were huge, and so dark blue that they were almost black.
‘I heard,’ she whispered, ‘I heard what he said. My mother is dead.’ She sobbed once as though she had taken an arrow through the heart and she reached for him with both arms. They hugged each other in the steaming waters of the bath. After a while Hazel rallied.
‘Darling, I need a little time to recover from this. Will you please speak to Peter for me.’ Peter Naughton was the captain of the BBJ. ‘Tell him we must have an expedited takeoff for Cape Town. Tell him we will be at the airfield in two hours at the latest.’
They refuelled in Perth in Western Australia, but were airborne again within an hour. Their next and last refuelling stop was on the island of Mauritius. They had tried repeatedly to contact uncle John, but he was not answering his phone. Hazel sent him an SMS from Mauritius informing him of their ETA in Cape Town, but the reply was from Grace’s secretary, who confirmed that there would be transport waiting at Thunder City for them. By the time they landed in Cape Town their nerves were ragged. Since leaving Japan they had spoken of very little else than Grace’s death, and in the end Hector had to insist that Hazel take a sleeping draught. When they touched down she was still dulled by the drug. Hector had never seen her looking so drawn and haggard.
As soon as they were seated in the Maybach and heading into the mountains towards Dunkeld Hazel tried to pump the chauffeur for information. However, if he knew anything beyond the fact that Miss Grace was dead and that her body had been taken away in an ambulance, he was not saying. Clearly he had been gagged by somebody and the obvious somebody was uncle John. In the end he let slip one small item.
‘But at least the police have gone now, Miss Hazel.’ Hazel leapt on this morsel of information and tried to wheedle more from him, but the chauffeur looked terrified and retreated behind a barrier of feigned ignorance. In the end even Hazel was forced to give up bullying the fellow.
Uncle John was waiting for them on the porch of the house. When he came down the steps to greet them they hardly recognized him. He seemed to have aged by twenty years. His features were ravaged. Hazel did not remember his hair as being so white. He moved like a very old man. She gave him a perfunctory kiss and then looked into his eyes,
‘What are you up to, Uncl
e John?’ she demanded. ‘Why won’t you tell me what has happened to Mater? I know she wasn’t sick. How can she be dead?’
‘Not out here, Hazel. Come inside, and I’ll tell you all that we know.’ When they were in the sitting room John led her to a sofa. ‘Sit down, please. It’s a shocking business. I cannot yet get to grips with it.’
‘I can’t wait any longer. Tell me, damn you.’
‘Grace was murdered,’ he blurted and began to sob. He slumped onto the seat beside her and his whole body convulsed with grief. Hazel’s expression changed and she hugged him to try to comfort him. He clung to her like a bewildered child.
‘Grace was my only sibling. She was all I had, and now she is gone.’
‘Tell us what happened. Who killed her?’ Hazel was gentle with him, controlling her own suffering.
‘We don’t know. There was an intruder. He poisoned the dogs, and somehow managed to short-circuit the alarm system. Then he got into her bedroom. I was sleeping only two doors away and I heard nothing.’ Hazel stared at him dumbly. She left it to Hector to ask the next question.
‘How did he do it, John? Did he strangle her? Club her to death?’
John shook his head. ‘It’s too horrible.’ The old man bowed his head and sobbed.
‘You have to tell us, John,’ Hector insisted. John lifted his head slowly and his voice was so soft and tremulous that they could barely make out the words.
‘He decapitated her. He cut off her head,’ he said.
Hazel gasped. ‘Oh God, no. Why would anybody do a thing like that?’
‘Did he steal anything?’ Hector demanded brusquely. His tone was hard and without emotion. John shook his head.
‘So you are saying that he stole nothing? He took nothing from the house?’ Hector insisted. John raised his head and looked directly at him for the first time.
‘He took nothing, except . . .’ He broke off again.
‘Come on, John! Tell us. What did he take?’
‘He took Grace’s head.’ Even Hector was speechless for a long moment.
‘He took her head? Have the police found it?’
‘No. It’s gone. That’s why I couldn’t tell you before. It’s too horrible.’ Hector turned his head to look into Hazel’s eyes. She read his expression and rose to her feet covering her mouth with one hand, staring at him.
‘Sweet Christ!’ he said softly. ‘It’s the Beast again!’ She dropped her hand from her mouth.
‘Cayla! Oh, God save my baby! Cayla!’ She sank to her knees and buried her face in her cupped hands. ‘I am so afraid for my baby. I have to go to her.’ Hector put his arm around her and lifted her to her feet. He looked at John on the sofa.
‘We have to go, John. I’m dreadfully sorry. However, the living must take precedence over the dead. Cayla is in mortal danger. Unless we can do our utmost to prevent it, the same thing may happen to her.’ He started for the door, still guiding Hazel.
‘You can’t leave me. Please stay with me until after the funeral at least,’ John cried after them. Hector had no reply for him. He and Hazel ran down the front steps to where the Maybach was still parked. He placed Hazel tenderly on the back seat and sat beside her with his arm around her. Then he snapped at the chauffeur,
‘Take us back to the airport at once!’
As soon as they were airborne they made the first call on the speaker phone. It was to Cayla’s mobile phone, but it went straight to voicemail. Hazel’s next call was to Cayla’s dorm at the Vet School in Denver. She was answered by a cheerful young female voice.
‘Cayla Bannock? Okay! I haven’t seen her today, but she must be around. Can you hold while I try to find her?’ It was seven minutes of agonizing wait, before the girl came back on the line.
‘She isn’t in the common room. I knocked on the door of her bedroom, but there was no reply. None of the other girls in the dorm has seen her since Monday. Can you try the registrar at the main block? I’ll give you the number.’ They made four more calls before they found Simon Cooper at the Med School.
‘Hello, Mrs Bannock. Excuse me! I forgot that you are married now. Hello, Mrs Cross.’
‘Simon, I have to speak to Cayla. Do you know where she is?’
‘Oh, I haven’t seen her since last Friday evening. I have been studying for the examinations that are coming up. Cayla is not too pleased with me. She says I’m neglecting her. She hasn’t called me, and she won’t answer my calls. I think I’m being punished. I presumed she was with you in Houston for the holiday weekend.’
‘No, Simon, we are not in Houston. We’re travelling. Cayla is missing. Please try to find her. When you do find her please ask her to telephone me urgently, will you?’
‘Of course I will, Mrs Cross.’ Hazel broke the connection and she and Hector looked at each other.
‘We mustn’t jump to the worst conclusions.’ He touched her arm.
‘No,’ she agreed. ‘There’s probably a perfectly logical explanation. I’ll ring Agatha in Houston.’ Hazel’s PA came on the line after only a few rings. She had recognized Hazel’s number on the screen at her end.
‘Good evening, Mrs Cross,’ she said in her usual businesslike tone. ‘Or I expect it’s not evening wherever you are.’ Hazel had neither the time nor the fancy for pleasantries.
‘Agatha, have you seen Cayla?’
‘No, I’m afraid not. Not since the wedding in any event.’
‘Please try to find her, and tell her to contact me urgently.’ She disconnected and looked at Hector. Her eyes were filling with tears.
‘She has disappeared,’ she said miserably. ‘And here we are stuck helplessly in this stupid damned machine over the Atlantic. What can we do?’
‘Paddy is in Vancouver. He’s attending a seminar there. He gave me his number.’ He searched quickly through the names listed on his mobile phone. ‘Here it is.’ He dialled and within a very short time Paddy’s familiar brogue echoed from the speakers.
‘This is O’Quinn. Who is calling?’
‘Paddy, this is Heck. We have a red alert.’
‘I’m listening. Tell me about it, Heck.’
‘Hazel’s mother has been murdered in Cape Town. Her corpse was decapitated and her head was taken by her killer. The whole business stinks of the Beast. Now Cayla seems to be missing from her school at Denver. We are returning as fast as we can, but we have only just taken off from South Africa. You must take a charter flight to Denver, Colorado. That is where Cay was last seen four days ago. Go there and find her, Paddy!’
‘Right away, boss,’ said Paddy. ‘First thing to do is file a Missing Persons. Who was the last person to see her?’
‘As far as we know, it was her boyfriend, Simon Cooper.’ Hector gave his phone number to Paddy.
‘Tell Hazel not to worry. It never helps at all.’
‘Call us every hour, Paddy, even if you have nothing to report.’
Within eight hours Paddy was with the Chief of Police in Denver. They had an all-points bulletin out for Cayla. All the local radio stations and TV stations were broadcasting appeals for information and displaying Cayla’s photograph. Police officers had been sent out to grill Simon Cooper and all the other students in Cayla’s class and dorm.
‘Nothing definite yet, Hector. But everybody is working on it. Cayla hasn’t slept in the dorm for the last three nights, nor has she attended her classes since Monday. I have just this minute spoken to the Chief of Police in Houston. He knows Hazel well. Big respect. He is sending out his people to visit all Cayla’s usual haunts.’ When the BBJ landed at Atlanta to clear customs and immigration Hector called Paddy immediately.
‘We have to make a decision, Paddy. Do we fly to Houston or Denver? What is your advice?’
‘Half an hour ago we received a tip from the local TV station. A caller thinks he recognized the photograph of Cayla. He thinks he saw a girl like her on the flight from Denver to Houston two days ago. So the main search moves to Houston.’
‘Please
God, let it be her,’ Hazel breathed. ‘Tell Peter to file a flight plan for Houston. I’ll call Agatha to have a car for us at the airport. It will be after midnight before we arrive.’ Both of them managed a few hours of broken sleep on the last leg of the flight, but they were exhausted when they at last reached the Bannock homestead. All the lights were on in the house and Agatha met them at the front door.
‘Any news?’ Hazel demanded.
‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Cross. I have heard nothing more since we last spoke. They are trying to contact all the passengers on the flight that Cayla may have been on.’ As soon as they were in the suite they called Paddy again.
‘Nothing more for the moment,’ he told Hector. ‘Why don’t the two of you try to get some sleep? It looks as though you are going to have a hectic time over the next few days. I will call you again the minute I have anything new to report. I promise you that.’
‘All right. That’s what we’ll do, Paddy.’
Hector reached out in his sleep, but although the sheet was still warm from Hazel’s body the bed beside him was empty. He was wide awake instantly and reached out to touch the pistol that always lay on the bedside table.
‘Hazel!’ he said sharply.
‘I’m here.’ She was standing by the window.
‘Come to bed,’ he ordered.
‘I thought I heard something.’
‘What was it? I heard nothing.’
‘You were asleep,’ she said. ‘Perhaps I was dreaming.’
‘Come to bed, my love.’
‘I have to use the bathroom, before I burst.’ She moved across the room, a slim silhouette against the moonlight coming through the windows. She went into the bathroom and switched on the light. She paused in surprise. There was something on her marble vanity top that had not been there when she went to bed. It was a large object with a loose white cloth draped over it. She crossed the room slowly and cautiously; then she saw that there was an envelope propped up against the package. It was embossed, the kind that usually contains a greeting card or a message from the giver, from a lover.
Those in Peril Page 30
