out the clever innuendo.’
‘Very well, Cross. I will come straight out with it. I think you are a blood-thirsty racist, and I don’t particularly like you for it.’
‘Mr Bannock did not think the same thing about me when he signed my contract with Bannock Oil.’
‘I know my husband had a higher regard for you and your abilities than I do, but then my husband also voted for the Bushes, father and son. Henry Bannock was almost but not entirely perfect.’
‘Of course, you voted for Mr Clinton and Mr Gore?’
She ignored the question, and went on, ‘I note your subtle reference to your contract with Bannock Oil, Cross. I have read that document through, every word of it.’
‘Then you know it will be an expensive one to break.’
‘At this stage no one is talking about breaking any contracts, especially one that was authorized by my husband. But I will have my eye on you. Please try not to cull too many more niggers on my time.’ At the completion of their run she turned away from him with a curt ‘Thank you, Cross,’ and started into the building, glancing at her wristwatch.
‘Mrs Bannock!’ He made her pause and look back. ‘Like me or loathe me, if you ever need me you will need me badly, and I will be here, if for no other reason than that your husband was one of the good guys. They didn’t come any better than Henry Bannock.’
‘Let’s hope I never need your services that badly.’ She dismissed him. In twenty minutes she had a final meeting with Simpson before she helicoptered back to the oil terminal at Sidi el Razig. The jet was waiting for her on the runway there to take her down to Mahe Island in the Seychelles to be with her beloved family. She showered quickly and used a moisturizing sun cream, but no makeup. She went through to her communications room. There was a string of emails from Agatha, but she did not have time to deal with those now. She would run through them once she was on the jet. She started for the door on her way to the meeting with Simpson. At that moment she heard her BlackBerry buzz in the outside pocket of her crocodile skin handbag that stood on her bedside table. She turned back. Very few people had that number. She took the mobile phone from the pocket of her handbag and switched it on. The legend on the screen read, ‘You have 2 missed calls and 1 message. Do you wish to view your messages?’ She pressed ‘Show’.
‘I wonder what my little monkey wants now,’ she said to herself fondly and the text appeared. It was chillingly short and simple:
Terrible things happening. Strange men with guns . . .
It broke off as if Cayla had been interrupted in mid-sentence. Hazel felt a dark shutter flicker over her vision. She swayed on her feet. Then her vision cleared and she stared at the message blankly, deliberately refusing to face up to the enormity of it. Then it dawned upon her and she felt an ice-cold hand clutch her heart and start squeezing the life out of her. With shaking hands and short asthmatic breaths she punched the reply button on her BlackBerry and listened to the endless ringing tone at Cayla’s end of the line. It was interrupted at last by an impersonal voice:
‘The person you have dialled is not available at present. Please leave a message after the tone.’
‘Darling! Darling! I am going mad. Please call me back as soon as you can.’ She spoke into the BlackBerry then darted through to her communications room. She punched the contact number for the Dolphin ’s bridge. For the security of the ship and the passengers most of her crew were combat-trained and well armed. Surely they would have defended Cayla , she thought desperately. But the phone rang interminably. Her mouth was dry and her eyes blurred.
‘Please!’ she begged. ‘Please somebody answer me.’ Then the ringing tone switched off, and the ready signal buzzed infuriatingly in her ear. She slammed down the receiver and dialled Agatha. Her heart bounded at the sound of
‘Very well, Cross. I will come straight out with it. I think you are a blood-thirsty racist, and I don’t particularly like you for it.’
‘Mr Bannock did not think the same thing about me when he signed my contract with Bannock Oil.’
‘I know my husband had a higher regard for you and your abilities than I do, but then my husband also voted for the Bushes, father and son. Henry Bannock was almost but not entirely perfect.’
‘Of course, you voted for Mr Clinton and Mr Gore?’
She ignored the question, and went on, ‘I note your subtle reference to your contract with Bannock Oil, Cross. I have read that document through, every word of it.’
‘Then you know it will be an expensive one to break.’
‘At this stage no one is talking about breaking any contracts, especially one that was authorized by my husband. But I will have my eye on you. Please try not to cull too many more niggers on my time.’ At the completion of their run she turned away from him with a curt ‘Thank you, Cross,’ and started into the building, glancing at her wristwatch.
‘Mrs Bannock!’ He made her pause and look back. ‘Like me or loathe me, if you ever need me you will need me badly, and I will be here, if for no other reason than that your husband was one of the good guys. They didn’t come any better than Henry Bannock.’
‘Let’s hope I never need your services that badly.’ She dismissed him. In twenty minutes she had a final meeting with Simpson before she helicoptered back to the oil terminal at Sidi el Razig. The jet was waiting for her on the runway there to take her down to Mahe Island in the Seychelles to be with her beloved family. She showered quickly and used a moisturizing sun cream, but no makeup. She went through to her communications room. There was a string of emails from Agatha, but she did not have time to deal with those now. She would run through them once she was on the jet. She started for the door on her way to the meeting with Simpson. At that moment she heard her BlackBerry buzz in the outside pocket of her crocodile skin handbag that stood on her bedside table. She turned back. Very few people had that number. She took the mobile phone from the pocket of her handbag and switched it on. The legend on the screen read, ‘You have 2 missed calls and 1 message. Do you wish to view your messages?’ She pressed ‘Show’.
‘I wonder what my little monkey wants now,’ she said to herself fondly and the text appeared. It was chillingly short and simple:
Terrible things happening. Strange men with guns . . .
It broke off as if Cayla had been interrupted in mid-sentence. Hazel felt a dark shutter flicker over her vision. She swayed on her feet. Then her vision cleared and she stared at the message blankly, deliberately refusing to face up to the enormity of it. Then it dawned upon her and she felt an ice-cold hand clutch her heart and start squeezing the life out of her. With shaking hands and short asthmatic breaths she punched the reply button on her BlackBerry and listened to the endless ringing tone at Cayla’s end of the line. It was interrupted at last by an impersonal voice:
‘The person you have dialled is not available at present. Please leave a message after the tone.’
‘Darling! Darling! I am going mad. Please call me back as soon as you can.’ She spoke into the BlackBerry then darted through to her communications room. She punched the contact number for the Dolphin ’s bridge. For the security of the ship and the passengers most of her crew were combat-trained and well armed. Surely they would have defended Cayla , she thought desperately. But the phone rang interminably. Her mouth was dry and her eyes blurred.
‘Please!’ she begged. ‘Please somebody answer me.’ Then the ringing tone switched off, and the ready signal buzzed infuriatingly in her ear. She slammed down the receiver and dialled Agatha. Her heart bounded at the sound of
Similar Books
