by Anne Mather
Nicola had to go with him or brave a lonely vigil outside with a crowd of curious tribesmen and women. But, as they traversed the empty corridors, and she began to see vaguely again, she felt an awful sense of nausea. The smell of disuse and decay and unwashed bodies was overpowering, and she wondered how she would bear spending any length of time in such a place.
But when they reached the chamber where a huge Arab was squatting on the floor waiting for them, she found the odour alleviated by another, more potent scent of something that repelled as well as appealed. It was not pleasant, and yet it was not unpleasant, and her head swam dizzily for a few moments, so that the opulence of this chamber almost passed her by. But as her senses cleared she saw the rich tapestries hanging on the walls, and admired the richness of the ornamentation. The room was in the inner recesses of the building, and there was no daylight, only light from lamps hanging from the ceiling which also was intricately carved.
Jason greeted their host, introduced Nicola, and then indicated that she should do as he did and sit on the floor, only behind him.
Nicola objected to this, but decided she might as well obey as cause another argument, and while the two men talked, she took in the strange scene. Standing behind the fat Mustafa were two women, with huge palm leaves which they waved languidly, causing a pleasing draught to encompass the bulk of their master. He really was enormous, with massive, fleshy fingers, covered with rings that sparkled in the artificial light. Nicola wondered why he didn’t use some of his obvious wealth to improve his surroundings. She glanced at Jason. Beside Mustafa he looked tall and lean and very dark. She wondered how he would look in Eastern dress. She thought he might suit the white robes and flowing headdress. Then she squashed the thought. Jason Wilde looked right as he was, in his levis and cotton shirt. He needed nothing to make him even more sure of himself. He had superb self-confidence.
Eventually, after talk, wine was served, and Nicola was allowed a glass. She sniffed the beverage she was offered rather suspiciously, but Jason merely moved his head slightly, indicating that she should drink it. She did so, and found it rather too sweet for her taste. Then it was time to leave.
However, Mustafa now turned his attention to Nicola, and made some remark about her to Jason. As the whole of their conversation had been incomprehensible to Nicola, she objected to herself becoming a subject for discussion, and felt an infuriated sense of frustration as Jason said something that made Mustafa roar with laughter and make eloquent gestures with his hands. Nicola looked hard at Jason, and said in a tight little voice:
‘Are you ready to leave?’
Jason nodded, and Mustafa struggled to his feet. He came across to her, walking round her rather disconcertingly, and then he touched the gold of her hair with his flabby fingers. Nicola cringed inwardly, but Jason’s eyes were hard and steady as he stared at her and she made no objection. Then Mustafa said something else, for which Jason had no ready retort. Instead he shook his head and taking Nicola’s arm guided her to the door, where good-byes were said. Nicola managed a faint smile, and then they were walking back along the corridors towards the welcoming daylight outside.
Jason said nothing until they were in the Land-Rover, and then he said: ‘You really will have to harden yourself to this kind of thing if you intend to stay here,’ in a cold voice.
‘What do you mean?’ Nicola’s breath came in jerky gasps.
Jason swung the Land-Rover round in a half-circle and headed back through the village. ‘You’re too squeamish,’ he said coldly. ‘If you imagined the desert as some kind of technicolor epic where nothing repels, nothing hurts, nothing is unpleasant, you were sadly mistaken.’
Nicola stared at him. ‘I didn’t imagine any such thing. As for—for—for that—in there,’ she glanced back, ‘I don’t like any man pawing me.’
‘Mustafa wasn’t pawing you! He was admiring you!’ snapped Jason.
‘I suppose he wanted to buy me for his harem!’ she said sarcastically.
Jason uttered an expletive. ‘You!’ He shook his head. ‘You’re much too scrawny for Mustafa!’
‘I’m not scrawny!’ Nicola was horrified.
‘He thinks so. He thinks your hair is pretty, though.’
‘Thank you!’ Nicola stared out of the car’s windows. ‘Anyway, I’m glad it’s over.’
‘So am I. Now we can take our time getting back.’
Nicola blinked. ‘What time is it? My watch seems to have stopped.’
‘Half after eleven,’ replied Jason briefly. ‘We’ll be back at the oasis before one. We’ll have lunch there and return to the camp this afternoon.’
‘Lunch?’ echoed Nicola. ‘But have you brought lunch, too?’
‘Ali packed enough for half a dozen meals,’ replied Jason smoothly. ‘Why? Do you want to go straight back?’
‘No!’ Nicola flushed. ‘That is—well, won’t your men wonder where you are? Where I am?’
‘Probably. However, I think we can comfortably forget them for an hour or so, don’t you?’
Nicola was doubtful. Somehow now she wished they were going straight back to the camp. She had wanted to attract Jason Wilde, indeed that was her first objective, but it was one thing to plan something cold-bloodedly back in England, and quite another to carry that something out when the man involved had such an annoying way of disconcerting her.
Still, she must not think of herself. She must think of Louise, and the children, and the havoc he had wrought in her own affairs.
The oasis was a beautiful sight after so much barrenness. Nicola slid out of the Land-Rover, and ran to the water’s edge, dipping her handkerchief into the water and wiping her hot cheeks. It was remarkably cool, and she knelt down beside it, allowing her wrists to rest under the coolness. Soon the blood circulated that coolness to all parts of her body, and she sighed, and wiped her hands on the sides of her pants. Then she looked round. Jason had taken a hamper out of the vehicle, and had set it down on a rug under the palms. He was now stretched out beside it, smoking a cigarette lazily. The heat didn’t seem to affect him at all, except that he, like everyone else, sweated a good deal. Right now, he had loosened his shirt, and pulled it free of his pants for coolness.
Nicola walked across to him, and stood looking down at him a trifle nervously. His eyes flickered. ‘Sit down,’ he said. ‘I promise I won’t grab you or anything.’
Nicola hastily subsided on to the rug before he noticed her expression, opening the hamper and peering inside. Ali had certainly prepared a delicious picnic. There was salad, and ham, bread rolls, mayonnaise, little Eastern pastries simply oozing with nuts and a kind of sticky sweet filling, fresh fruit, and beer or lager.
‘I’m sorry there’s nothing hot to drink,’ remarked Jason, propping himself on one elbow to watch her, ‘but Ali thinks that everyone should drink long cool drinks this side of the Med.’
Nicola smiled. ‘That’s all right. I like lager,’ she replied quickly. ‘Shall I deal with the food?’
‘Why not?’ Jason lay back again. ‘You know, you remind me of someone.’
Nicola’s heart plunged. ‘Oh,’ she said casually. ‘Who?’
Jason frowned thoughtfully. ‘A girl—a girl I knew back in England. She wasn’t much like you at all to look at—she was much smaller and less—aggressive!’ He grinned. ‘But there were certain characteristics she possessed that you possess, too.’
Nicola’s hands were clammy, and a trifle unsteady. ‘Wh—what was her name?’ she queried lightly.
Jason looked at her intently. ‘Now why should you want to know some strange girl’s name?’ he asked.
Nicola shrugged. ‘No reason. Don’t tell me. I don’t care.’
Jason chewed his lips for a moment. ‘Okay, her name was Louise, Louise Ellison. Do you know her?’ Nicola’s colour nearly gave her away, but by an immense effort of will-power she restrained herself. ‘Heavens, no!’ she exclaimed. ‘Why should I?’
Jason sat up, studying her with uncom
fortable intensity. ‘Because, you see, I happen to know she had a sister. Oh, I didn’t meet her, or anything like that, but her name was Nicola, too. Now isn’t that a coincidence?’
CHAPTER FOUR
NICOLA was speechless. She didn’t know what to say. She had already denied all knowledge of Louise Ellison and yet she had the feeling that Jason Wilde did not really believe her. What possible reason could she have had for denying such a thing? What plausible excuse could she think up? How could she be certain that his knowledge of her was no greater than she assumed? Had he tackled Sir Harold about her? Did he know in truth that she was related to Louise? The questions went round and round in her brain until she felt sick. Jason was still watching her, a half-smile playing round his lips, and she wondered if he fully realized what a furore he had plunged her into.
Toying with a plastic container containing bread rolls, Nicola said: ‘What has that to do with me?’ rather tentatively.
Jason shrugged. ‘You tell me.’
Nicola clenched her fists. She felt furiously angry suddenly. How dared he sit there laughing at her confusion? Why didn’t he come out into the open? If he knew she was Louise’s sister, why didn’t he say so? She heaved a sigh, and opened the container. ‘Do you want some ham and salad rolls, or would you prefer it on a plate?’
‘Rolls will do fine,’ he replied evenly. ‘What’s upset you, Miss King? You seem—distraught!’
Nicola fumed. ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she said tightly. She added ham and lettuce to a roll. ‘Mayonnaise?’
‘Fine, thank you.’
Nicola supplied him with the roll and extracted a can of beer. ‘Where are the glasses?’
‘In the hamper at the bottom, but this will do fine for me,’ he answered, taking the can from her and peeling back its lid. He raised it to his lips and drank deeply. ‘Hmmn, that’s good! Warm, but good!’
Nicola busied herself filling another roll. She no longer felt hungry and she knew it would be force-work endeavouring to swallow food. However, after supplying Jason with two more rolls she picked up a banana and began to peel it, hoping the fruit would not stick in her throat.
Jason propped his back against a palm and ate with obvious enjoyment. Nicola moved restlessly, brushing away flies unnecessarily, tidying the hamper, doing anything to distract attention from herself. As each minute passed she became convinced that he knew who she was and was deliberately playing on her nerves with this silence. But even so, if he did know who she was, what of it? She was an employee of Inter-Anglia just as he was and she had a job to do. Why should he imagine she had ulterior motives for coming out here? So why had she denied that Louise was her sister?
Coming to a decision, she said: ‘If you must know, Louise Ellison is my sister.’
Jason did not turn a hair. He continued eating his roll. When she was beginning to think he hadn’t heard her, he suddenly said:
‘So why should you deny knowing her?’
Nicola bit her lip. ‘Well, I knew that you and she were once—well, acquainted, and I didn’t want to embarrass you.’ She flushed.
He frowned. ‘And you knew I was to be here, didn’t you?’
Nicola hesitated. ‘Yes,’ she said at last. ‘Naturally Sir Harold told me. I had to be briefed about my new boss.’
Jason finished the can of beer, and she passed him another which he opened before speaking again. Then he lay back against the palm and surveyed her lazily. ‘I’m surprised you wanted to come out here,’ he remarked laconically. ‘I should have thought you would have hated my guts!’
Nicola’s head jerked up. ‘W—Why?’
‘Didn’t Louise tell you?’
Jason’s eyes were very penetrating despite their shielding veil of thick black lashes. Nicola wondered what thoughts were going through his mind. It was a nerve-racking situation.
‘Tell me what?’ she asked now.
Jason frowned. ‘Oh, come on! Louise wasn’t the type to keep things to herself.’
Nicola’s finger nails bit into the palms of her hands. ‘Louise’s affairs are no concern of mine,’ she denied uncomfortably. ‘She’s a married woman—and older than I am.’
Jason’s eyes narrowed. ‘Married—yes,’ he said slowly. ‘I know.’
Nicola stared at him. ‘Didn’t that deter you?’ The words were out before she could prevent them.
Jason shrugged. ‘I’m not married,’ he replied pointedly.
Nicola stifled a retort, opening a can of lager with trembling fingers and pouring some into a glass. Sipping it, she felt a little better. His dispassionate dismissal of Louise’s marriage aroused all the hatred she felt towards him. How dared he act so indifferently? He deserved to suffer for what he had done. Somehow she must destroy that insensitive façade, that mocking expression from his handsome face. But could she?
After they had finished the meal, and Jason had started his third can of beer Nicola closed the hamper and settled down on the rug to relax. Jason seemed absorbed in his own thoughts, and Nicola wondered if he would sleep. If he did it would give her a chance to do a little detective work, look through his belongings, perhaps. She didn’t know what she expected to find. It would be too much to hope for that she might find something, some evidence, to discredit him in Sir Harold Mannering’s eyes. His life was too tidily mapped out, categorized as she had said. His record in that file in London showed how reliable, how methodical in business matters he could be. And when his practical work began to bore him there was always that seat on the board waiting for his acceptance. So neat—so logical, but so cold.
She glanced across at him. Why did he think she had come out here really? He didn’t believe she was merely a secretary, and certainly he didn’t imagine she was anything to Paul Mannering, so what possible solution had he come up with? Unless he had not come up with any solution, and was merely biding his time, waiting for her to show her hand. Whatever she decided to do it must be done surreptitiously. He must not suspect her real motives. She frowned. It would have been so much easier if he had been a man like Graham Wilson, and after all, she had had no reason to suspect he was not a man like that. A man who pursued married women without thought for their married state ought to have been an easy conquest. But instead all she had succeeded in arousing in him was anger.
She thought about Louise. Poor Louise! She would not have stood a chance against a man like Jason Wilde, who if he chose to exert his concentrated charm and personality could be an overwhelming temptation to someone whose life was dull by comparison. And George, Louise’s husband, had long passed the stage of trying to charm his wife. Maybe Louise had not been blameless, but without encouragement she would not have behaved so foolishly.
The heat pressed down on Nicola’s eyeballs, and she thought she would just close her eyes for a moment. It was so pleasant lying there. The sound of the water as some insect skimmed its surface was soothing, and there was nothing to disturb the stillness. They might have been alone in the world, the blank expanses of desert stretching away endlessly into the distance.
But when she opened her eyes again, a film of heat had enveloped her body, and she realized with a sense of annoyance that she had been asleep. She sat up abruptly, wondering where Jason Wilde was. Then she relaxed. He was lying on the other side of the hamper, stretched out lazily, his eyes shaded by one arm, while the other rested by his side. She leaned over and read the time. It was already after three o’clock. She must have slept over an hour. She sighed, looking down at him exasperatedly. She had no real idea whether he was carrying a wallet with him or not, and if he was it would most likely be in his back hip pocket, and completely inaccessible.
Quietly she got to her feet, trying not to disturb him. Then she walked to the water’s edge and wet her handkerchief again, giving herself a cooling wash. Afterwards she straightened, and glanced across at the Land-Rover. She didn’t know why, but something urged her to take a look inside. Crossing the clearing, she slid into her seat, scanning the parcel sh
elf for any likely item of interest. Jason’s papers were there, but a glance at them confirmed that they contained purely technical information relating to the oil rig and pipeline. There was a map of the desert, with information noted upon it of various geological strata, and a kind of gauge which meant nothing to her.
She rifled through the rest of the paraphernalia lying there; empty cigarette cartons, matchboxes, a couple of old newspapers, some sunglasses, rolled-up scraps of paper, a broken pencil. The usual mess of rubbish collected in a car over a period of time. Nothing of any interest to her.
But suddenly her fingers encountered a metal container. It was newer than the rest of the things and from the feel of it far from empty. There was nothing on the outside to indicate what its contents might be and with trembling fingers she prised off the lid. She felt no shame at searching his belongings like this. He was the one who had started it all.
Inside the tin a fine white powder confronted her. It was weighty too, considering the tin was barely half full. She frowned, and bending her head sniffed it cautiously. There seemed to be no smell except one of dryness from the lining of the tin. Her mind darted agilely over the possibilities. Could she have innocently discovered something far more dangerous for him than a mere error in his work? Despite her hatred of him she had thought that in business at least he was an honest man. But what could this substance be that he was concealing so carelessly in the Land-Rover? And yet was it careless? Didn’t the very essence of subtlety lie in using ordinary things to their best advantage? If this was what she thought it might be hadn’t he chosen quite a clever hiding place? Who would imagine anyone would conceal a quantity of heroin amongst a pile of rubbish on a parcel shelf?
She dipped her finger into the tin and brought out a little to put on her tongue. She tasted it, allowing it to dissolve slowly. It certainly didn’t seem familiar, and her pulses raced madly. If Jason Wilde dealt in drugs that might account for him choosing a job here, in the Middle East. Her heart plunged. She must think carefully. What could she do about it?
