The Seventh Scroll - Smith Wilbur - Страница 88
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words she was an arrant snob.
She questioned him closely on his antecedents, insisting on going back
several generations.
In the end she called to her husband down the table, "Sir Nicholas owns
Quenton Park. Did you know that, dear?" And then she turned back to
Nicholas. "My husband is a very keen shot."
Sir Oliver looked suitably impressed by his wife's intelligence.
"Quenton Park, hey? I read an article in the Shooting Times the other
day. You have a drive there called the "High Beeches". Is that right?"
"The "High Larches",'Nicholas corrected him.
"Some of the best birds in Britain. That's what they said," Sir Oliver
enthused, looking eager and expectant.
"I don't know about that,'Nicholas protested modestly.
"But we are rather proud of them. You must come and have a shot at them
next time you are home - as my guest, Of course."
From that moment Sir Oliver's attitude towards Nicholas altered
dramatically. He became affable and solicitous, even going so far as to
send the butler to fetch a bottle of the 1954 Lafite.
"You have made a good impression," Geoffrey murmured wryly. "HE doesn't
waste the 1954 on anybody but the chosen few."
It was after midnight when Nicholas was at last able to escape from his
hostess and rescue Royan from Sir Oliver and General Obeid. He led her
away, supporting her as she limped along fetchingly at his side,
avoiding Geoffrey Tennant's knowing and speculative gaze until they had
negotiated the first landing of the staircase.
"Well, you were definitely the star of the evening," he told her.
"You had Lady Bradford purring like a cat," she counterattacked, and he
was delighted to hear the faint tone of possessive jealousy in her
voice. He had not been the only one.
At her door she solved any problems by offering him her cheek, and he
kissed it chastely.
"Those bosoms!" she murmured. "Don't have nightmares about them." And
she closed the door behind her.
He felt quite jaunty as he went to his own room, but as he opened the
door he saw the envelope lying at the threshold. During dinner, one of
the servants must have pushed it under the door. Quickly he tore open
the flap of the envelope and unfolded the pages that it contained. His
expression changed as he scanned through them, and he left the bedroom
and went back to tap on Royan's door.
After a moment she opened it a crack, and peeped out at him. He saw the
confusion in her eyes, and he hurried to allay her suspicions.
"Reply to my fax." He showed her the sheaf of papers.
"Are you decent?"
"One moment." She closed the door, and opened it again only seconds
later. "Come in, she said.
She indicated the decanter on the cabinet. "Would you like a nightcap?"
"I think I need one. We know who runs Pegasus now."
"Tell me!" she ordered, but he took his time pouring a Scotch, and then
smiled at her over his shoulder. "How about a soda water for you?"
"Damn you, Nicholas Quenton-Harper." She stamped her stockinged foot.
"Don't you dare torment me. Who is it?, "When I first met you, you were
a dutiful little Arab girl. One who realized the superiority of the mate
species.
Listen to you now. I think I have spoiled you."
"I think I should warn you that you are flirting with disaster." She
tried to suppress her smile. "Tell me, please, Nicky."
"Sit down," he ordered, and took the armchair facing her. He unfolded
the fax and then looked up at her. "Mrs. Street has worked fast. In my
fax, I suggested that she rang my stockbroker in the city. We are three
hours ahead of Greenwich Mean Time, so it seems that she must have
caught him before he left his office. Anyway, she has all the
information I asked for."
"Stop it, Nicky, or I will tear my bodice and scream and cause a
scandal. Tell me!'
He rustled the pages, and then read. "Pegasus Exploration is registered
on the Sydney Stock Exchange in Australia with a share capital of twenty
million-'
"Don't go through all the details," she pleaded. "Just name the man."
"Sixty-five percent of the shares in Pe asus are owned by Valhalla
Mining Company," he continued imperturbably, "and the remaining
thirty-five percent are owned by Anaconda Metals of Austria."
She had given up pleading with him and sat forward in her chair,
watching him with a fixed gaze.
"Both Valhalla and Anaconda are fully-owned subsidiaries of HMI, Hamburg
Manufacturing Industries. All the shares in HMI are owned by the von
Schiller family trust, the sole trustees of which are Gotthold Ernst von
Schiller and his wife, Ingemar."
"Von Schiller," she repeated softly, still staring at him.
"Duraid had him on his list of possible sponsors. He must have read the
Wilbur Smith book - I know it has been translated into German. He
probably contacted Duraid just the way that you did. But he was not put
off as easily as you were by Duraid's denials."
"That's the way I read it also, Nicholas nodded. "It would have been
easy to sniff around the Cairo museum, and find that Duraid and you were
working on something big. The rest of it we know only too well."
"But how did he move Pegasus into Ethiopia so quickly?"she demanded.
"That must have been a stroke of luck on von Schiller's side - the luck
of the devil. Geoffrey tells me that Pegasus obtained a concession to
prospect for copper from President Mengistu five years ago, just before
he was ousted. Von Schiller was already in place, even before he heard
about the scrolls. All it involved was moving the base camp down from
the north where they were working and relocating it on the escarpment of
the Abbay gorge, to be ready to take advantage of any fresh
developments. We will probably find his dirty tricks that Jake Helm is
one of his heavies, specialist that he sends to any of his trouble spots
around the world. It's apparent that he has Nogo in his pocket.
We waltzed right into their arms."
Royan looked thoughtful. "It all makes sense. As soon as Helm reported
our arrival to his master, von Schiller must have ordered him to set up
the shufta raid on our camp. Oh, sweet heaven, I hate him. I have never
laid eyes on him, but I hate him more than I thought I was capable of
hating anything or anybody."
"Well, at least we know now who we are dealing with."
"Not altogether," she demurred. "Von Schiller must have had a man in
Cairo. Somebody on the inside there."
"What is the name of your minister?" Nicholas wanted to know.
"No," she denied it instantly. "Not Atalan Abou Sin. I have known him
all my life. He is a tower of integrity."
"It's amazing what effect a bribe of a hundred thousand dollars or so
can have on the foundations of even the best constructed tower,"
Nicholas observed quietly, and she looked stricken.
They were the only two at breakfast. Sir Oliver had left for his office
an hour earlier, and Lady Bradford had not yet risen to greet the clear,
cool highland morning, "I hardly slept last night, thinking about
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