Man Without a Heart

by Anne Hampson

  The car standing outside her garden gate did not even attract Jill's attention; the road was very quiet and dark and it was usual for cars to be parked along it while their owners walked to the taverna a few hundred yards away on the main street. She had been out to a meal at the home of a Greek friend, a young woman who worked in the bank which was next door to the travel agency where Jill was employed, and so it was much later than usual when she arrived home. It was as she fumbled in the dark with the little gate, whose latch was difficult to undo, that her senses suddenly became alert, not immediately to danger, but rather to the fact that two men had been sitting in the car, in the dark, for as she stood there they got out and came toward her. It was as they drew close that fear entered into her and she felt the presence of danger. Her hands began to tremble, but to her relief she managed to unlatch the gate. That was all; she was unable to take even one step along the path. A hand was thrust around her and pressed over her mouth; she was lifted bodily, struggling but unable to scream for help, and within seconds she was in the car and a blindfold fastened over her eyes.

  She heard the two men talking in Greek, something about being taken on a boat of some sort. The car shot forward, the jerk sending her head hard against the window. Bright lights spun behind her eyes and, more from fear than pain, she drifted into unconsciousness.

  She opened her eyes and all was dark except for a strange disk of muted light which seemed a very long way off. Dreaming.... Yes, she'd had the most horrible nightmare, where she was kidnapped by two men—

  It was no dream! She sat up, fear sweeping over her like a deluge as memory returned, and noticed that she had been lying on a bunk. Where was she? Where were the two men who had carried her off? She turned and slid off the bed. Her legs were like jelly, but she moved carefully toward the disk of muted purple light.

  A porthole. The moment this registered, she became aware of the throbbing of engines and remembered that she had heard the men saying something about a boat. Where were they taking her? How long would she be on this vessel? What time was it? Was there a light switch? She began moving around, amazed that her mind could be so clear when fear was holding her so mercilessly in its grip.

  She was searching for an electric switch and knew that she would very likely find one. It came to her hand at last and she blinked for a moment or two as the cabin was flooded with light. It was a luxurious cabin, with highly polished woodwork and furniture. A wardrobe was on one wall and a dressing table on another.

  The bed she had been lying on occupied the wall opposite the door, which was on the same side of the cabin as the wardrobe. Jill saw her lightweight coat on a chair, her handbag on top of it. She glanced at her watch and saw that it was half-past two. The throbbing of the engines seemed to become louder and louder until it became a drumming in her ears. She tried the door, then began thumping on the panels with her fists. No sound except that deafening drumming of the engines! She would go mad! Her glance went round the cabin again and lit on a metal wastebasket. Picking it up, she banged on the door, marking the beautiful wood and even splintering it in places. At last she heard voices, then, after what seemed an eternity, the sound of shuffling footsteps and the repeated murmur of voices.

  'Be quiet! What do you want?' The words came in strongly accented English.

  What did she want? Was the man soft in the head to ask a question like that?

  'I want to get out of here! Open this door—'

  'Thank heaven she's awakened!' The voice was that of a second man, speaking in Greek. 'She's been unconscious a long time.'

  Jill wondered whether to hammer on the door again, just to see what would happen, but she thought better of it, deciding to listen instead to the two men talking. Her Greek was not so good that she caught every single word, but it was certainly good enough for her to understand all that was being said. 'I'll be glad when we're there and can hand her over to the master.'

  'It won't be long now.'

  'She was so afraid, Petrol, and I couldn't help thinking that if it was my daughter, my little Maria—'

  'Your daughter would not be carried off like this one, Georgios. Why should she be? So what's the use of talking about it?'

  'This English girl,' said Georgios, bypassing Petros' words, 'was so frightened. You should have made it clear to her that she would come to no real harm.'

  'She didn't give me the chance! She fainted before I could tell her anything.' The voice faded and Jill realised that the men were walking away. She cried out, crashing the wastebasket against the door again.

  'Go to sleep, woman,' shouted Petros. 'It will be light in an hour and I'll bring you some breakfast!' She decided not to court trouble by making a bigger fuss and getting him even more angry than he sounded already. She had been calmed by Georgios' words: 'You should have made it clear to her that she would come to no real harm.'

  Besides the calm, though, there was puzzlement. If no harm were meant her, then why had she been abducted at all? She sat down, trying to think, but realising that she was very, very tired. It would be easiest to get back on that bed and try to sleep for an hour. At least she was safe for the present, and it seemed very much as if she would continue to be safe. Many questions darted about in her mind as she lay on the bed a moment or two later, questions about her kidnapping, about this 'master' to whom she was being taken, but gradually the questions ran into one another as her mind became more and more hazy with the approach of the soothing slumber that she craved.

  Daylight was streaming through the porthole when, awakened by the door opening, Jill sat up on the bed and quickly slid off it. Petros had brought a tray, which he deposited on a small table at the foot of the bunk bed. 'We'll be there in half an hour,' he told her. 'You will be taken to my master.'

  'Who is your master?'

  The man shrugged and turned to the door. 'My master say that we must not speak to the lady,' and with that he was gone. Jill watched the door frowningly, heard the key turn in the lock, and then, with a little sigh that was a mingling of resignation and bewilderment, she determinedly sat down to tackle the contents of the tray. She might as well face this 'master' on a full stomach rather than an empty one, she thought, eyeing the crispy rolls, the fresh butter and the cherry jam. The coffeepot was hot to her touch, and the cream in the jug was thick and fresh.

  The engines stopped a short while later and she looked out the porthole to see a charming little harbour surrounded, except for the narrow strait through which the boat had come, by pine woods, olive and palm trees, and orange groves. The land to the east looked steep, with a pyramid of blue and white houses gleaming in the sunshine. Next to the harbour itself, men sat mending nets or just chatting to one another. One man was slapping an octopus on the hard surface, creating a lather which, Jill had already learned, made the flesh tender and juicy.

  A donkey was ambling up a hillside, its back laden with brushwood; its owner rode another donkey, while his wife trudged along beside the laden donkey, a stick in her hand. Familiar sights. Jill had visited several Greek islands while she had been living in the capital, and she naturally wondered which one this was. Not one that she had visited, but its distance from Athens could not be very great. It was only six o'clock when Petros entered the cabin again, this time to tell her that she was to be taken by car to his master. She merely nodded, having already decided that to argue or question would be to no avail. Better wait until she came face to face with the man's employer, for only then would all the baffling questions be answered. 'Are you ready?' asked Petros.

  'Yes, quite ready.' She picked up her coat and handbag. Her face was pale, but because of Georgios' reassuring words, she had completely lost that terrible fear which had sent every nerve in her body rioting and her heart throbbing wildly.

  Chapter Two

  The house appeared after the car had turned off a narrow tree-shaded lane and into the drive which, overhung with trees and flaunting exotic flowering bushes for the whole of its winding length,
had caused the villa to be hidden from view until they were almost upon it. Georgios was driving the huge white car, Petros sitting in the back with Jill, alertly watching her all the time.

  'We're there at last,' grunted Petros in his accented English. 'And I am not sorry.'

  'Nor am I,' said Jill, but to herself. Her eyes were taking in the beautiful white villa with its bright blue shutters and gaily coloured sunblinds. A verandah running the length of the front facade seemed to be dripping with exotic flowers; the arched front door, approached by a flight of white marble steps, had stone portals smothered in magenta bougainvillaea; in a shady courtyard seen through an archway of rambler roses, a fountain played, its waters stealing all the colours of the rainbow from the sun. The villa's setting was the most picturesque Jill had ever seen; it was set on a plateau on the hillside with a view of the bay and the strait on one side and of a pine forest on the other. White-sailed luxury yachts could be seen anchored in the bay, and there seemed to be flowers everywhere, growing in the hedgerows or flourishing in the gardens of the pretty villas scattered about the hillsides or along the flatter region down by the bay.

  The whole atmosphere was warm and friendly, and as Jill slid from the car, she could scarcely imagine the owner of such a property being mixed up in anything as criminal as a kidnapping.

  Petros escorted her to the door, his hand clutching her arm. He need not have been so cautious; Jill had no intention of making a run for it. She knew that she would not get very far before someone caught her, for now that she was out of the car, she saw no fewer than three gardeners at work in various parts of the grounds.

  The door was opened by a Greek smartly dressed in a pair of black trousers, a white shirt and a grey linen jacket.

  'The woman!' said Petros, giving Jill a push which sent her past the manservant and into the hall. 'Mind she doesn't escape.'

  The last sentence was spoken in Greek, and the man nodded his head. He closed the door and turned to Jill.

  'This way, miss,' he said briefly, and Jill found herself following him toward a door at the far end of the hall. The servant opened the door after knocking and waiting for the invitation to enter.

  'The lady, Mr. Adam,' he said, and Jill gave a sudden start on hearing that name. The servant seemed to disappear into air, so quickly did he make his departure. Jill, standing just inside the room, with the door closed behind her, could scarcely think clearly with the name 'Adam' repeating itself in her brain, and in addition, the attitude of the man who, sitting at a massive oak desk, had not yet even looked up from the paper he was perusing, seemed somehow quietly disturbing. Jill coughed, and he said quietly, but with a harsh edge to his faintly accented voice,

  'So, my little runaway, you'd go back on your word, eh—' He had glanced up as he spoke, breaking off abruptly when his very dark brown eyes encountered Jill's slender form on the other side of the desk.

  'Good heavens! Who the devil are you?' His expression was one of scowling disbelief. 'What the devil—?' He stopped again and stared, rising from his chair. 'How did you get here?' he demanded so belligerently that Jill's hackles were instantly up. Her brown eyes glinted and her mouth went tight. That he was completely staggered by the sight of her was plain, which was not surprising, the truth having been made plain by his first words. It was her sister who was to have been abducted. For a fleeting space Jill stared at him with as belligerent an expression as any he himself could produce. She was noticing the flexed jawline and firm, dominant chin, the sensuous mouth that carried the ruthless lines she had seen in the stone statues in the museums of Athens, statues of his pagan ancestors. His nose was straight, his cheekbones high, his skin a rich deep bronze, unlined and clear. Her eyes moved to his forehead, and to the widow's peak wedging deeply into it. She spoke while continuing her examination of him, her attention on his body now-a tall, lithe body with wide, powerful shoulders and narrow hips.

  'Your second question is superfluous, Mr. Doxaros, since it was on your orders that I was attacked by two ruffians and bundled into a car, then onto a boat and then into another car, which brought me here. The answer to your first question is that I am Susie's sister, Jill Harris.'

  His eyes opened wide. 'They took the wrong girl.... The damned idiots! I'll flay them alive!' He looked so savage that for a moment Jill really believed he would carry out his threat. 'Idiots!' he repeated. 'I told them that the girl had blond hair and blue eyes!'

  'It was dark when they abducted me,' returned Jill tartly. 'You can't blame them for the blunder; it was poor organisation,' she added finally, because she just had to get at him. His eyes glinted, but any retort that came to his lips was stemmed, and it was plain to Jill that he was not going to waste time on irrelevancies. He had suddenly become interested in her, examining her thoughtfully, his eyes first on her hair, short and curling and the colour of beech leaves in autumn, then on her face with its clear alabaster skin through which the blue veins on her temples could clearly be seen, her mouth, her eyes, big and honest and framed by curling dark lashes. In the cabin there had been a shower alcove and Jill had been able to make use of it. In her handbag she had a blusher and lip rouge, and despite her situation, she had spent a little time on her appearance, firm in the belief that, with a woman, her degree of confidence was increased if she knew she was looking her best.

  'Where is your sister?' demanded the Greek at last. 'In England—out of your way!'

  He nodded frowningly. 'She phoned me to say she was breaking the engagement. I said she couldn't do it, but she rang off immediately. I called at the house; she was out, but I felt it would be simple to catch her sometime, and I set my men to watch the house....' He tailed off, his ruthless mouth compressing. 'How in the devil's name they managed to take the wrong girl, I don't know. I warned them that there was a sister. I'll deal with that later, though. For the present—well, I owe you an apology.' He was suddenly the gentleman, gracious and smiling. 'Please sit down, Miss Harris, and let us talk. You must have learned something from Susie as to the reason for our engagement?'

  Jill found herself moving to the chair he had brought forward for her. One part of her mind was concerned with getting out of here, getting back home, to telephone her employer and give him some sort of excuse for her absence from work. The other half of her mind, though, was intrigued by the whole situation. She would have been less than human if she had not been exceedingly curious to learn a little more about it.

  'Will you have some refreshments, Miss Harris?' Adam Doxaros spoke as she sat down, pulling a bell rope without waiting for her answer. He talked while waiting for his manservant; Jill listened intently, and all the while she was taking in his appearance, deciding that in spite of the extreme severity of his features he was without doubt the most handsome and distinguished man she had ever met. He was cultured and highly intelligent, and it soon struck Jill that he would have become bored in no time at all by a green girl like her sister. By the time the manservant arrived, he had already given Jill a clear picture of what he had in mind when he asked Susie to marry him.

  'It was purely a business deal,' he was saying when the servant knocked and entered. 'Coffee?' he inquired of Jill. 'Or a cool drink? Lemonade? We grow our own lemons here.'

  'I'll have coffee, please.'

  'Coffee it is.' And then, as the thought suddenly occurred to him: 'Do you want something to eat? Did you manage to eat anything for breakfast?'

  His meaning was quite clear, and to her amazement Jill found herself smiling in amusement.

  'You're wondering if I was so paralysed by fear that I couldn't eat? No, Mr. Doxaros, I wasn't paralysed by fear. I thoroughly enjoyed the breakfast you so thoughtfully provided.' The last sentence was spoken with a distinctly acid touch; Adam smiled now, as if he too were seeing something faintly amusing in the fact that she had been able to tuck into the breakfast that had been given her. His servant went off, and Ac' am, as she was already thinking of him, resumed his narrative, putting his listener in possess
ion of several important facts that Susie had omitted to mention. However, in the main, he was only repeating what Susie had already said.

  'You seem very, very concerned about your mother.' Jill spoke after a short silence during which she had been going over some of the information imparted to her. She was deeply impressed by the Greek's anxiety over his mother's health, and by his sincere love for her. She had known, of course, that in Greece, more than in any other country in the world, old people were tenderly cared for by their relatives. They were looked up to, and although the Greek woman was servile in her youth and middle age, she became the queen of her household once she grew old.

  'It's a natural thing, Miss Harris. You say you have lived in my country for over a year, so you must have learned of our concern for the elderly people of our families.' She nodded her head. 'Yes, I have.'

  'My mother will die happy only if I am married. Greek women are like that; they want to see their sons married. My father died an unhappy man, I'm sorry to say, because I was unwilling to marry just to please him. As I have mentioned, I'm secretly engaged to the daughter of a business acquaintance, and we shall marry when my mother dies. But Mother hates this girl, being convinced that she would never make me happy. The idea that I would marry her would be appalling to my mother, hence my insistence on a secret engagement.'

  'This young lady doesn't mind if you marry someone else in the meantime?' Jill was frowning, wondering what kind of a girl would be willing for her fiancé to enter into a temporary marriage with someone else.

  'She has no option,' returned Adam inflexibly. 'It is I who am in control of the situation.' His mouth had set, his eyes become hard. 'In Greece the female does as she is bid—but you must have learned that also.'

  The servant had entered with the tray, which he put down on the corner of Adam's desk. 'Will there be anything else, Mr. Adam?' he asked respectfully.