by Anne Mather
"I didn't think he was," replied Lisa, with a sardonic expression. "As far as I know, the bastard's still in the States. What I want to know is what you're going to do about it. Or is sleeping with his brother just your way of keeping it in the family?"
Caitlin prayed her father wasn't at the office. The last thing she wanted right now was to have to explain her visit to him. She only hoped Marshall was there and not out on some assignment; or even down at Fairings, explaining the evening he'd spent at the flat to Matthew Webster.
The receptionist soon put her fears to rest.
"I'm afraid Mr Webster's not here," she exclaimed, naturally assuming Caitlin was there to see her father. "I'd ask if there was anyone else who could help you, but I expect it's a personal visit, isn't it?"
"I—well, perhaps," said Caitlin nervously, feeling the doubts she had had about what she was about to do surfacing once again. It was all very well telling herself that she had to talk over what had happened with someone, but why was she so convinced she could trust Marshall and no one else?
The truth was, she was still in a daze, and nothing she had done since Lisa Abbott departed seemed quite real. She had the distinct feeling that this was a dream—or perhaps a nightmare—and that everything the other woman had told her was just her imagination working overtime.
Yet, for all her ambivalence about her physical state, there was no doubt that Lisa's explanation had made an awful kind of sense. Caitlin had known Nathan was different—but how different even she found it hard to accept. That he might be another person—his twin brother, in fact—was the cruellest kind of irony. Had she conceivably fallen in love with another man?
If she allowed herself to think about it, alone, she was afraid for her own sanity. Not because she didn't believe Lisa, but because she was very much afraid that she did. But how long had Nathan—no, Jake; she must remember his name was Jake—known about the deception? Not long, she hoped painfully. She didn't want to believe he'd deliberately seduced his brother's wife.
The ramifications of the situation were almost too numerous to mention. Why had Jake been on the plane? Why had he been carrying his brother's passport? And where was Nathan? Why hadn't he come back and set the matter straight?
"Kate—Caitlin?"
The voice behind her seemed to solve her immediate problem. As she turned somewhat reluctantly from the desk, she saw Marshall walking towards her across the veined marble floor. He had evidently just entered the building, and she guessed he was just coming back from lunch. And as he walked towards her, she felt that disturbing ring of recognition she had once felt before.
But it disappeared as soon as he reached her. She was too aware of how incongruous her arrival must seem to him, particularly as until that evening at the apartment, they had hardly exchanged more than a couple of words. He must know she hadn't liked him, that she had resented his intervention in their lives. Consequently, he must be wondering what she was doing here; even more so, when he discovered it was him she'd come to see.
"Hello, Marshall," she responded now, aware of the receptionist's interested gaze behind her. And, because she suddenly found she hadn't the guts to speak directly, "I understand Daddy's not here."
"No." Marshall frowned. "Did you expect to see him?"
That was more difficult.
"Well—yes and no," she said, feeling awkward. Then, "Do you think you could give me a few minutes of your time?"
"My time?" Marshall was understandably taken aback. "I—why, of course," he exclaimed confusedly. "Um—do you want to come up to the office?"
Caitlin shrugged. "Anywhere would do," she murmured, and something in either her voice or her eyes warned him that this was no ordinary visit.
"How about the boardroom?" he suggested. "There'll be no one using it today. We can be—private there. If that's what you want."
"It is."
Caitlin was grateful he didn't ask her to explain there and then, and going up in the lift to the fourteenth floor, she was grateful also for his understanding. He spent the entire time making small talk about the weather, and Caitlin was able to calm the nerves that had flared up when he appeared downstairs.
The boardroom at Webster Development was an impressive room, with a long table made of solid teak, and a dozen matching chairs upholstered in crimson leather. There was a painting of Matthew Webster high on the wall above her father's chair, and a long row of windows overlooking the roofs of the city below.
It was imposing by any standards, but today Caitlin paid little attention to her surroundings. Even the niggling thought that she had once harboured the belief that this would all be hers someday didn't trouble her any more. Indeed, she no longer felt any great desire to control anything except her own life, a circumstance that at this moment seemed almost as remote.
Marshall closed the door behind them, and then asked if she would like some coffee. "Not right now," replied Caitlin, pressing her lips together. She loosened her long cashmere overcoat. "It's very warm in here."
"Is it?"
Marshall seemed surprised at her comment, and Caitlin guessed that she was generating her own heat. But since Lisa Abbott left the antique shop, she'd been unable to control her emotions, and her blood felt almost feverish as it raced along her veins.
Marshall himself looked much as he had done when he had come to the flat for supper. His dark suit was smart, without being obviously expensive, its double-breasted styling accentuating the impressive width of his shoulders. He wasn't as tall as Nathan, and she found herself in the unusual position of meeting him almost eye to eye, but his steel-rimmed spectacles made reading his expression less easy to achieve.
"Is something wrong?" he asked now, watching as she paced somewhat agitatedly about the boardroom. "Why don't you sit down? And take off your coat."
Caitlin hesitated, and then, realising she would feel cooler without the heavy coat, she slipped it off her shoulders and draped it over a chair. But although Marshall pulled out a chair, she didn't immediately take it, linking and unlinking her fingers as she sought to find a way to begin.
It seemed easiest to approach the subject by a less-than-direct route, and realising he would probably think she was crazy, she chose a circuitous path. "Um—did you know that—that Nathan had a—has a girlfriend?" she ventured offhandedly, and was not surprised when Marshall threw her a wary look.
"A girlfriend?"
"As in—another woman," agreed Caitlin uncomfortably. She paused. "A—mistress, or is that an old-fashioned term? In any case, it doesn't matter." She hesitated again. "Did you know?"
Instead of answering her question, Marshall offered one of his own. "Did you?"
Caitlin sighed. "All right. Yes. Yes, I did." She pressed her lips together. "It's just as well, in the circumstances."
"What circumstances?"
Caitlin licked her lips now. "She came to see me."
Marshall looked stunned. "When?"
"Just this morning, actually." Caitlin wished she could be more casual about it. "She—she apparently had a visitor yesterday."
"Nathan."
"Well, I thought so," said Caitlin, swallowing. And then, unable to withstand the pressure any longer, she collapsed into the chair and burst into tears. Sniffing, she sought the pockets of her coat, searching for a tissue, and then gulped when Marshal pressed a white handkerchief into her hand.
Marshall waited until she had calmed herself before attempting to find out what she was crying about. He had a great aptitude for calmness, she thought, aware that her embarrassment at breaking down had been greatly reduced by his patience. He made her feel secure, comforted, cared for. That he was a friend she could rely on. If nothing else, she had Nathan—Jake—to thank for that.
When she was in control of herself again, she wiped her eyes one last time with his handkerchief, half offered it back to him, and then, realising she couldn't return it in such a state, she crushed it between her palms. "I'll let you have it later," she sai
d. Then, "I'm sorry. I don't usually make a fool of myself like this."
Marshall lifted his shoulders. "Think nothing of it," he assured her gently. "Now—are you sure you want to go on?"
"Oh, yes." Caitlin was fervent. "I have to talk to someone, or I'm afraid I'll go mad!" She swallowed. "That woman—Lisa Abbott—said Nathan wasn't Nathan after all. He'd apparently admitted to her that he was really Nathan's twin brother, Jake, and that they had changed places before he boarded the plane."
Marshall stared at her. "Are you saying he's recovered his memory?" he exclaimed, slipping into the seat next to her. "Or that he'd never lost it?"
"Recovered, I think." Though Caitlin didn't feel she could be absolutely sure of anything at this moment. "In any case, he knows who he is. Like us, she thought he was Nathan at first, but he apparently convinced her otherwise."
Marshall frowned. "And you believe her?"
"Well, I don't disbelieve her," murmured Caitlin obliquely. "Why would she lie?" She felt an unfamiliar feeling of panic stirring inside her. "Do you think it's possible? As far as I know, Nathan doesn't have a brother. He's always maintained he was an only child. Isn't that what he told you?"
Marshall gave her a curious look. "It's not something we'd ever discussed," he murmured drily. "But situations aren't always as cut and dried as they appear." He paused.
"I suppose it's not inconceivable. It would certainly explain a lot of things."
"Yes," said Caitlin unhappily, her nails digging into the ball of cotton in her hand. "She also said she believed Nathan was trying to double-cross her. I didn't know what she was talking about. Do you think Nathan has found someone else?"
"I don't know." Marshall was thoughtful now. "So where is Nathan? And why is this man denying his identity, when for the past three weeks he's let us think he was someone else?"
Caitlin shrugged. "Because he did believe he was Nathan," she said tremulously. "He must have. He couldn't have faked something like that. Dr Harper—that's the doctor who dealt with him in New York, when he was first admitted to the hospital—said he had a mild concussion. I don't believe he could have pretended not to know who he-was at such a time."
"All right." Marshall nodded. "So we'll accept that he had lost his memory. Why didn't he tell us it had come back?"
"I don't know." Caitlin drew an uneven breath. "It's like a nightmare."
But, after what had happened between them, perhaps she did.
Marshall shook his head. "Let's start at the beginning, shall we?" he suggested. "Exactly why did this woman come to see you? Did she say?"
"Well…" Caitlin considered her words before speaking. "I think she was angry with Nathan, and she thought I might know where he was. She said he—Jake, that is—had gone to see her because Nathan had sent him. But she didn't believe that. Like I said before, she accused Nathan of selling her out."
"Did she know about—about the amnesia?"
"No. Until this—other man told her, she hadn't realised what had happened at all. She just thought Nathan was avoiding her because the crash had screwed up their deal."
"What deal?"
"The deal he's supposed to have cheated her on. She didn't go into details. She did tell me that she and Nathan had been planning to go away together after he got back. I think she thought I'd be devastated at the news."
"And you weren't?"
"No." Caitlin bent her head. "If she'd known how long I'd wanted a divorce—" She broke off abruptly. "Well, she wouldn't have accused me of trying to get him back."
"So, go on," Marshall prompted. "Did she say how Nathan planned to finance their elopement?"
"No." Caitlin grimaced. "I assume he intended to ask his father to help him. He said he was going to see Mr Wolfe when he left."
"Nathan told you he was going to see his father?"
"Yes."
"So—do you know if he did?"
Caitlin gasped. "I know he didn't," she said in sudden confusion, remembering Jacob Wolfe's surprise when she'd told him his son was in the New York hospital. She lifted her shoulders. "But he must have been hoping to get some money from somewhere. I don't think Daddy paid him enough for him to have saved an enormous amount."
"He didn't," said Marshall flatly. "Not that that troubled your husband," he added reluctantly. "I think you ought to know, Kate, the reason your father employed me was because Nathan had been embezzling from the firm."
Caitlin's jaw dropped. "But—but why didn't Daddy tell me?"
"Why didn't you tell him you wanted a divorce?" countered Marshall with a wry face. "It looks like you've both contributed to Nathan's success in defrauding Webster's. But rest assured, it won't be happening again."
Caitlin gasped. "But—how? How could he do it?"
"In various ways." Now that Marshall had started, he seemed prepared to tell it as it was. "It started when your father was ill, though I believe Matt had had some inkling of Nathan's dishonesty before that. But when your father was in hospital, and Nathan took control—well, let's just say he almost ran the company into the ground."
"Oh, God!"
"I don't think you want to know all the details. I'll just say that Nathan was awarding contracts to anyone who was prepared to make it worth his while. Which in simple terms means that our costs were not competitive. Your father had to drag himself from his sickbed to avoid a vote of no confidence by the board."
Caitlin's face was pale. "I knew there must be some reason why Nathan was replaced."
"By me," conceded Marshall ruefully. "Your father needed someone he could trust."
"And he trusted you?"
"For his sins."
"That's an odd expression."
"It was an odd situation."
Caitlin's brow furrowed. "But how did he know he could trust you any more than Nathan?"
"Let's say we made a deal. How about that?"
Caitlin frowned. "I don't understand. How did he find you? You hadn't worked for the company before."
Marshall looked as if he would have liked to explain everything, but instead, he returned to the matter in hand. "Whatever," he said, "I was supposed to monitor Nathan's behaviour. Matt thought he'd covered all the bases, but he was wrong."
"And you found out?"
"Eventually." Marshall pulled a wry face. "I didn't realise what he was doing at first. We suspect he's diverted funds away from the Magdalena River project. It would explain why our estimates don't add up."
Caitlin looked confused, and Marshall continued. "You may have heard the project mentioned. It's the dam we bid successfully for in Colombia. It's one of our biggest undertakings, and the funds involved are enormous. No one initially questioned the extra materials Nathan had costed to the job. But, as I say, our suspicions were aroused, and after making inquiries, I'm afraid it looks as if Nathan has managed to convert at least some of these funds to his own ends."
"The South American contract," breathed Caitlin, and Marshall nodded.
"The South American contract," he repeated. "From preliminary investigations, we do know that a healthy sum of money was deposited in a numbered account in Bogotá." Marshall paused. "I know we shouldn't jump to conclusions until we have positive proof, but that's my opinion. Which might account for why he's disappeared."
Caitlin blinked. "You think he never intended to come back?"
"It's possible. It might explain why his brother was on that plane." He paused. "I wonder how he persuaded— Jake, did you say?—to help him. It seems a small amount to split two ways."
"How small?"
Marshall hesitated. "Half a million pounds, give or take."
Caitlin frowned. "Well, it is a fortune to some people!"
Marshall tendered a reluctant smile. "So your father tells me. But I would have thought Nathan needed more than that to make it worth his while. Except that we don't know what he plans to do with it. That might provide an answer, if we knew."
"What he plans to do with it?" Caitlin was perplexed. "Why,
he'll spend it, of course. Nathan was always short of money. I know that."
"Perhaps. But don't you think the fact that the money was deposited in a bank in the Colombian capital is significant?" Marshall paused. "Particularly as it just happens to be one of the biggest producers of illegal substances in the world."
Caitlin was stunned. "You can't suspect Nathan of smuggling drugs!" she exclaimed. She caught her breath. "I don't believe it. He wouldn't know how to do such a thing. He may be a thief, but he's not an addict." She shuddered. "After what happened to me with David Griffiths, doesn't Daddy think I'd know if he was?"
"No one's saying he's an addict, or that he intended to smuggle the drugs himself." Marshall sighed. "But he could have paid someone else to do it." He shook his head. "He could have bought the stuff in New York and arranged for someone else to take it to England."
Caitlin felt sick. "It's not possible."
"Why not?" Marshall warmed to his theme. "People are smuggling goods into the country every day. Some get caught. Some don't. Believe me, not every ounce—or kilo— of cocaine is discovered. Pushers are making a fortune selling the stuff on the street."
"But some get caught?"
"Yes. And the penalties are severe. You'd have to be pretty foolish, or pretty desperate, to take the chance. But you have to admit, it is a possibility. It's something I've been considering for a while."
Caitlin sniffed. "You mean, you and Daddy have been considering it, don't you?"
"He knows of my suspicions, yes."
"Is that why you grilled Na—Jake—when we were staying at Fairings? Were you trying to find out then if he was lying or not?"
"Something like that."
Caitlin shook her head. "It's unbelievable."
"But possible." Marshall grimaced. "Though knowing Nathan as I do—the real Nathan, that is—I find the idea of him risking everything to buck the system almost beyond belief." He hesitated. "But this—what you've just told me—might provide an answer. It could explain his brother's presence on the plane."
