The Forgotten Sea

by Beverley Harper

‘She was okay but apparently Solange and Raoul took his death very badly. Surprising, isn’t it? I never thought the Dulacs were that close.’

  ‘They must have known what he was like.’

  ‘I suppose so, considering his gene pool.’

  Holly’s exhausted mind had nearly shut down. ‘There’s no way Raoul can link any of this back to you, is there?’

  ‘Not a chance. He’ll be assuming the evidence went down with the boat. He’s probably wondering who fingered him. The list of possibilities must be endless. Raoul’s made a lot of enemies over the years.’

  ‘How about the Triad?’

  ‘It’s amazing what you can do with a paper trail. Especially if it has the government’s blessing. They’ll find nothing to tie me in with the raid in Australia.’

  Holly reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Mission accomplished. What’s next?’

  ‘Haven’t you had enough for one lifetime?’

  She gave a lopsided grin. ‘Come on, Maguire! You must have something up your sleeve.’

  ‘Not a damned thing. Honest.’

  She let her hand drop. Closing her eyes again, Holly murmured, ‘How come I don’t believe you?’

  His fingers rested briefly on her leg. ‘How does a month cruising the Mediterranean sound?’

  ‘Bloody marvellous.’

  She slept then, only waking when Connor cut the engine in front of the Dulacs’ mansion. Anne-Marie must have been watching for them because she opened the front door almost immediately and ran down the steps. Connor leaned across and opened the back door for her.

  ‘I’m so nervous,’ she confessed. Then gave a gasp of horror as she took in Holly’s face. ‘Oh, my God. Did Guy do that? I’m so sorry.’

  Holly couldn’t help herself. First impressions of Anne-Marie had hardly been favourable. ‘He was your half-brother.’

  She was amazed to see tears spring from the Frenchwoman’s eyes. ‘I know. For most of my life I believed he was my nephew. Even so, I never liked him.’

  ‘It’s over,’ Connor said. ‘Put it behind you.’

  He’s right, Holly thought. It’s hardly Anne-Marie’s fault.

  ‘Does Kathleen know we’re coming?’ Anne-Marie asked.

  ‘She’s expecting us.’

  ‘How did . . . I mean, does she really want to see me?’

  ‘Without doubt. She’s waited a long time for this day.’

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ Holly said gently. ‘Just be yourself.’

  ‘That’s all right for you to say,’ Anne-Marie replied with a touch of the old asperity, ‘I’ve only just found out who I really am.’

  Kathleen had chosen the derelict site of William Maguire’s house to meet her daughter for the very first time. Holly waited in the car while Connor showed Anne-Marie where to go. When he returned there was a nice, soft smile on his face.

  ‘It wasn’t awkward at all,’ he said. ‘Kathleen held out her arms and Anne-Marie just fell into them.’ He shook his head. ‘What a hell of a long wait to hold your only child.’

  ‘Come on.’ Holly opened her door. ‘I need a bit of time to absorb this place. We’ll be gone tomorrow.’

  Connor helped her out of the car. They stood together, shoulder to shoulder, leaning on the stone ramparts and saying nothing. Holly slipped an arm around Connor’s waist. He placed one protectively across her shoulders. Out to sea, a grey expanse of mountainous waves boiled under an overcast sky for as far as the eye could see. Water pounded the reef, frothing, foaming white, shooting into the air before creaming over the coral. Wind plucked at their clothes, gusting so hard at times that Holly swayed with its force. The crystal-clear waters of Warwyck Bay had clouded with churning sand. Holly shivered and Connor’s arm tightened around her.

  Her thoughts were of William Maguire. No-one had forced him to become a pirate. His self-imposed exile couldn’t have been easy but the wayward third son of Irish aristocracy who had plundered, raped and killed throughout the Sea of Zanj had undoubtedly left his mark. Not only his treasure. Also his seed. Holly wondered what the one-time corsair might have thought if he’d known that the reverberations of his life were still being felt 250 years after he departed this world.

  Connor had been thinking of the pirate too. ‘You know,’ he said softly, turning Holly to face him, ‘if it hadn’t been for William I might never have met you.’

  She lay a cheek against his chest. ‘I don’t know about that.’ Connor breathed into her hair. ‘I think Kathleen’s fate theory would have seen to it that we’d have managed it somehow.’

  Half-an-hour later, a quietly delighted Kathleen and an emotional Anne-Marie returned, arm-in-arm. ‘I wonder if I could come with you?’ Kathleen asked. ‘Anne-Marie is going to pack her things and move to Mahébourg. We’ll drive back in her car.’

  ‘Where will you stay? Surely not at the convent?’

  ‘No. My brother, Thomas, has quite a large house. I’m sure he won’t mind. I’ll be taking some time off to help Anne-Marie recover William’s treasure.’ She smiled at Connor and Holly. ‘I could see this happening between you two. It was meant to be.’

  ‘You said we’d meet one more time. Is this it?’ Holly asked.

  ‘Yes.’ Kathleen’s eyes roved carefully over Holly’s injured face. ‘It’s finished. You have no more need of fear. There is nothing but happiness in your future.’

  ‘To be perfectly honest, I never quite believed that sixth sense of yours. Now I owe my life to it. Thank you.’

  ‘Tell your children about it one day.’

  ‘Children! Will we have many?’

  ‘As many as you would wish. I will not say more.’

  Anne-Marie had her mother’s arm tucked tightly through her own, as if she was afraid Kathleen would disappear. ‘Did you know this moment would come, Mother?’

  ‘I don’t often see things about myself,’ Kathleen said. ‘It’s too easy to mix up premonition with hope.’

  Anne-Marie turned to Connor. ‘Thank you for the things you told me this morning. For the first time in my life so much made sense.’

  ‘What now?’

  ‘Find William’s treasure first. I’ve got some money of my own. Buy a house near my . . .’ she stumbled over the word, ‘. . . mother. A lot of things I’m not proud of have to be undone. It’s time to reinvent myself. That’s the plan anyway.’

  Connor nodded. ‘Sounds good. How about Solange? What’s she likely to do?’

  ‘Drink herself to death,’ Anne-Marie said sharply. Then sighed. ‘See what I mean?’

  Kathleen patted her daughter’s arm. ‘We can’t rush these things, my dear.’

  Connor reached into the glove compartment and passed William’s journal to Kathleen. ‘This belongs to you and Thomas.’

  Kathleen ran her fingers across the old leather cover. ‘If it hadn’t been for this . . .’ She smiled. ‘How strange it is to think of all the coincidences that have led to this moment.’ She looked up at Holly. ‘See what I mean? Fate is fate. If just one person down through the years had done something even a little bit differently, perhaps none of us would be standing here now.’

  A look of love passed between mother and daughter. Holly reflected that it wasn’t only her life which had changed. And it was all down to one man.

  That same individual’s influence was also being felt by Raoul, though not with any degree of contentment. He was in a towering rage and trying to hide it behind a facade of overbearing arrogance. Two men from the internal revenue department studiously ignored his stinging sarcasm, as did two plain-clothed police officers. Raoul’s study had been turned inside-out. Solange, her face a mask of indifference, looked on with an air of abject boredom. Only her eyes gave away the fact that she was enjoying the unfolding drama. The so-called devastation over their son’s death was, for the moment at least, the last thing on either of their minds.

  When Holly and Connor arrived with Anne-Marie and Kathleen, Raoul’s anger and frustration reached new hei
ghts.

  ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he demanded. No-one was sure exactly who he was addressing.

  ‘I’ve come for my things,’ Anne-Marie told him calmly. ‘I’m going to stay with my mother.’

  Raoul stared at Kathleen. ‘Mother!’ he said derisively. ‘That’s a joke. Common whore is more like it.’

  That, as Connor later speculated to Holly, was the final straw for Anne-Marie. Raoul’s thoughtless words did more damage to himself than he could ever have imagined. She turned to the men searching through a roll-top desk. ‘I think you’ll find what you’re looking for in the master bedroom. There’s a safe set into the floor. Under the carpet. The combination is 260949, my father’s birthday.’

  She stared Raoul down then smiled mockingly. ‘Oh yes, and he has another supposedly secret safe in the conservatory. He thinks no-one knows. I came across it quite by accident. Even found the combination written on his desk blotter.’ She crossed the room and pointed to a corner of the much scribbled-on pad. ‘There – 007711. It’s also the first six digits of a numbered account with Union Banque Suisse in Geneva.’

  Raoul’s face paled. ‘You bitch!’

  Anne-Marie looked him up and down. ‘You bastard!’ She smiled slightly at Kathleen. ‘Sorry, Mother.’

  ‘I couldn’t agree with you more,’ Kathleen murmured. ‘Come, dear, let’s get your things.’ She cocked her head, listening. ‘I could be wrong,’ she said to Raoul, ‘but someone seems to be knocking on your front door.’

  An avalanche might start from a single stone but it soon catches up anything in its path. Something similar seemed to be happening to Raoul Dulac’s life. The International Criminal Police Organisation, clearly not aware that Raoul was in trouble on other counts, had been investigating Scylla for some months. Any mercenary organisation attracts official attention and in the course of what started as routine observation, it had become known that the head of African operations was not too fussy about those he recruited. Wanted criminals and terrorists were numbered alongside thrill-seeking adventurers. The newly arrived Interpol agents were hoping for details. Thanks to Anne-Marie, they found more than they bargained for in the conservatory hideaway. Dossiers on some of the world’s most notorious men and women were proof enough that Raoul had been flagrantly obstructing police enquiries in a dozen different countries. Those who still managed to avoid capture, despite the damning evidence of Raoul’s files, would not take kindly to their betrayal. And like many clandestine individuals, their arms were long. Raoul Dulac’s chances of surviving a healthy spell in prison seemed very unhealthy.

  All in all, the prognosis for having two cents to rub together if Raoul survived long enough to serve what was likely to be a considerable prison sentence, didn’t look very rosy either.

  He knew it too. As document after document revealed the full extent of his illegal activities, he was grey, sweating and shaking.

  Solange, already inebriated, celebrated her husband’s financial and personal destruction by opening a bottle of Dom Pérignon. She was not in the least put out when no-one accepted a glass. The ramifications of Raoul’s arrest on her precarious financial position had not, as yet, made their way through her alcohol befuddled mind. She subsided into a maudlin state, to contemplate the bubbles.

  Holly and Connor stood outside waiting to say goodbye to Anne-Marie and Kathleen. ‘Does this make up for what Raoul did to your brother and Emma?’

  ‘It comes close.’

  ‘You’ve done what you set out to do. He’s a broken man.’

  Connor sighed. ‘Human emotion is a peculiar thing. It doesn’t feel half as good as I thought it would. I almost feel sorry for him.’

  They saw a car turn into the long drive. It slid to a stop in front of them and the driver’s tinted window was lowered. Madame Liang Song was behind the wheel. ‘Is it true?’ she asked. ‘Has Raoul been arrested?’

  ‘So it would seem,’ Connor replied.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘What has this to do with you?’

  ‘Not a thing,’ Connor lied. ‘I’m here with Anne-Marie and her mother.’

  ‘Her mother! She died in the fire last year.’

  ‘Her natural mother,’ Connor explained. ‘Or perhaps you didn’t know that Anne-Marie is Raoul’s daughter, not his sister?’

  Liang Song’s beautiful mask of a face showed no expression. ‘I repeat, what has this to do with you?’

  ‘Anne-Marie’s mother is a Maguire.’

  Madame Liang’s eyes flicked to Holly’s face, then back to Connor. ‘I don’t like surprises.’

  ‘And neither do I.’ Connor’s voice was steel hard. The implication clear.

  Liang Song looked back at Holly. ‘I did what I thought best.’

  As apologies went, it was probably about as stylish as the Chinese woman could concede. ‘Well,’ Holly said with a tight smile, ‘I think that says rather a lot about you.’

  The insult went straight over Liang Song’s head.

  Just then, handcuffed, dishevelled and wild-eyed, Raoul was almost carried down the steps towards a police car. He looked across at Liang Song. Tears welled and burst free to run unchecked down his cheeks. ‘Song,’ he cried out, brokenly.

  The Chinese woman’s eyes passed coldly over him. She pulled the gear lever into drive, staring straight ahead. Her words were meant for Connor. ‘I’ll contact you next week. The final arrangements should be in place by then.’ The automatic window slid upwards, stopping ten centimetres from the top. ‘Goodbye.’

  ‘Song! Ma chéri!’ Raoul stumbled and would have fallen but for the police officer at his side.

  The window closed completely and Liang Song drove away. Raoul left in a police car a few seconds later.

  ‘Not exactly grief-stricken about her lover, was she?’ Holly commented.

  ‘Hard as nails,’ Connor agreed. ‘Congratulations by the way.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Restraint. I was expecting one of your little gems.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘Your parting shot to Liang Song. If she ever figures out what it means she’ll probably set her uncles onto you.’

  ‘Maguire, I’m tired. I’d very much like to sleep until we leave to catch that plane tomorrow. Is there anything else we need to do or can I count on your company? Preferably curled up with me. If it’s little gems you’re after, would you take a rain check? My mind is one second from sleep mode.’

  He kissed her gently on the lips. ‘Some women would go to any lengths to get me into their bed.’

  Holly’s mouth twitched. ‘Piss off, Maguire.’

  ‘That’s my baby.’

  EPILOGUE

  Quinn was waiting for them at Sydney Airport. He took one look at Holly and, before they even reached him, let everyone within ten metres know of his displeasure. ‘Good God, man! What the hell have you done to my daughter? What went on over there?’

  They took him for a drink, or three. Because as Holly had mentioned, before the plane touched down, calming her father’s ruffled feathers could take a while.

  It did. Quinn was halfway through his second gin and tonic before he stopped huffing. ‘You lied to me,’ he accused Holly.

  ‘No I didn’t.’

  ‘You left stuff out. Same thing.’

  ‘Sorry, Dad.’

  Quinn’s eyebrows quivered. The unexpected apology had momentarily distracted him.

  Holly seized on the advantage. ‘I didn’t want to worry you.’

  ‘You’re forgetting how well I know you. I was worried. Anyway, you took some insane risks. In God’s name, girl, what made you go on board that boat?’

  ‘Um.’

  ‘Don’t say that word. You know I hate that word.’

  Connor intervened. ‘She wasn’t to know it was Guy, not Raoul, who’d brought it there.’

  Quinn fixed him with a challenging glare. ‘You lied to me too. All that stuff about Scylla and pirate treas
ure. You conveniently forgot the whole drug issue. Triad indeed. My daughter could have died.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Quinn. I had no idea you’d send Holly.’

  Quinn took a disgruntled pull at his drink. ‘Seems like I was wrong about a few things,’ he admitted reluctantly. ‘Apart from her hands, my darling daughter seems to have brought the rest on herself.’

  ‘Thanks, Quinn,’ Holly said dryly.

  ‘You’re taking a break, Big Shot. No more assignments for a while.’ He waited for her to react. She didn’t, so he repeated himself. ‘Did you hear me? I said no work from me.’

  Holly and Connor exchanged glances.

  ‘What is it?’ Quinn demanded.

  Holly nodded her permission and Connor told him. ‘Seems like your daughter is an aspiring author.’

  ‘She is?’ It was news to Quinn.

  ‘Even has an idea for a novel in her head.’

  ‘There is?’ Definitely doubtful.

  ‘After we’re married she’s going to start work on it.’

  ‘Really?’ Relief. ‘And when will that be?’

  ‘Soon. She needs looking after.’

  ‘You can say that again.’

  Both men kept glancing at Holly, who allowed their conversation to flow around her. She was perfectly content to sit and listen.

  Quinn pushed his luck. ‘Do you intend to have children? It’s just that Delia and I would like grandchildren before we get too old.’

  Connor rose to the occasion. ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Again, Quinn’s eyes took in Holly, who simply sat gazing into space. ‘She’s twenty-nine next week, did you know that?’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘Getting a bit long in the tooth for children.’ Pure enjoyment shone in Quinn’s eyes. He was getting away with it – a first. ‘You’ll have to get a move on.’

  Connor looked surprised as well. It was not like Holly to let such comments pass. ‘Just as soon as we’re married.’

  ‘A big wedding?’

  ‘I don’t think so. Something private. Between us we’ve had three practice runs.’

  Two sets of eyes bored into Holly’s. She realised suddenly that both men had concern written all over their faces. ‘What? What have I done?’