Being Elizabeth (41 page)

‘Go ahead.'

‘Are you absolutely positive about those two companies?'

‘The source was good. I've no reason to doubt the accuracy of what I've told you.'

‘We could ask Jake Sorrenson, the chairman of the North Sea Consolidated Oil Company. He knows who owns shares in his company.'

‘Of course he does,' Francis agreed. ‘And if he doesn't have it in his head, he can look up the list of shareholders. The problem is, Sorrenson doesn't know
who
owns Belvedere Holdings and Castleton Capital. And neither do I. My source assured me Bothwith is the owner, but that he has straw men fronting for him. He's a devious sod.'

‘Who is your source?' Elizabeth asked.

Francis looked at her and smiled. ‘Even if you were the Queen of England I couldn't tell you that, and you know it, Elizabeth.'

‘It's Francis.'

‘Is everything all right? You sound awfully strained,' Elizabeth said, her grip on the receiver tightening.

‘There are no problems, but I want to cancel the meeting for this afternoon.'

‘
Oh
. Why?'

‘Because we don't need to have it. However, I would like to come to your office now. I only need ten minutes of your time.'

‘That's fine. I'm working on my charity donations at the moment, but that's nothing pressing.'

Three minutes later Francis Walsington walked into Elizabeth Turner's office and sat down opposite her. ‘I'm now going to tell you what you have to do. So please listen carefully.'

And she did.

‘A
nd I thought this year was going to be peaceful!' Elizabeth said, reaching out, clasping Robert's hand resting on the table. ‘But it looks as if 2005 is going to be as hectic as all the others.'

Robert brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. ‘What was it Grace Rose said to you … that your life was always going to be
extreme
.'

‘I miss her, you know. She was a marvellous sounding board for me.'

‘And now you only have me. And Cecil … blokes who don't understand women!'

‘Oh, the two of you understand all right, and so does Francis. I really felt sorry for him on Monday, he seemed at his wits' end, don't you think?'

‘I think he was really pissed off about the kilt. Let's face it, she's being pretty callous, flaunting Bothwith and Darlay hardly cold in his grave. He died in February, and this is April. By God, she's a swift one. Fairly takes my breath away.'

‘I don't understand the police. Haven't they done a proper investigation?'

‘I'm sure they have, darling. But if a crime's not solved in the first forty-eight hours it usually isn't …' He beckoned a waiter, and ordered two more glasses of pink champagne, then continued. ‘That seems to be the rule of thumb these days, so I'm told.'

‘I wish this new problem hadn't come up. We need it like holes in our heads. By the way, I've changed the meeting with Spencer Thomas, made it next week. He was a bit startled, and actually rather anxious, but I stonewalled him like Francis told me to, and just re-set it.'

‘That's fine. Have you told Cecil?'

‘No, I will tomorrow. In the meantime, when are we going to Paris again?'

‘After we've dealt with our current problem.'

‘That sounds like very soon then,' she murmured, smiling at him, and inclined her head as a couple walked past their table at Harry's Bar, another of their favourite Mayfair restaurants.

‘Who was that?' Robert asked. ‘I didn't recognize them.'

‘No, you haven't met them, and she's the person I know, not her husband. I just met her, in fact. She has a beauty line that I'm hoping to buy … the company, I mean. For the spas.'

The champagne arrived, and they touched glasses, and then Elizabeth said, ‘I do make you happy, don't I, Robin Dunley?'

‘Yes, you do, my darling girl. Do you realize we've been together for nine years now?'

‘As grown-ups, you mean. If I remember correctly, you first kissed me when I was eight years old, under that big oak at Waverley Court.'

‘No, you kissed me first, you little minx!'

‘It was you who made the first move, Robin Dunley.'

‘No, no, I did not. You were rather a fresh little thing, as I recall. All over me like chickenpox, you were.'

They laughed together then, for the first time in several days. Elizabeth drew closer and murmured, ‘Can you imagine … the
kilt said all those nasty things about me years ago. Castigated me for having a scandalous affair with a married man. And now she's doing exactly the same thing with James Bothwith.'

‘Francis was always right about her … he detected something strange in her, the first time he met her in Paris when she was married to François de Burgh.'

‘Do you think she was involved … in Darlay's death, I mean?'

‘It's hard to know, but to be truthful I'm a bit dubious about that accusation by the gossips.' He stared at her. ‘After all, let's not forget that there were those who pointed a finger at me, said that I murdered my wife. And you know I didn't, so maybe Marie Stewart is innocent of that particular crime, too.'

Elizabeth walked along the corridor to the boardroom at Deravenels, her face unreadable as she opened the door and went inside.

Cecil was sitting at the table with Robert, and Spencer Thomas, the head of Deravco, their oil company. The three men stopped talking as she entered and stood up; Spencer hurried to greet her in the doorway. After kissing her on the cheek, he led her into the room.

Elizabeth sat down and placed the folders she was carrying on the table, and said, ‘Sorry to keep you waiting. I was delayed by a phone call from New York.'

‘No problems,' Spencer responded, beaming at her. ‘Imagine, you'll soon be the proud owner of Norseco Oil, one of the biggest oil companies in Europe.
Congratulations!
'

‘Oh, no, no, not so fast, Spencer! I'm superstitious, I'm afraid, and I don't congratulate myself until a deal is signed, sealed and delivered.' She patted the pile of folders in front of her. ‘And I've been going through everything again. All these are
documents pertaining to Norseco, and there are a number of things that have come up.'

Spencer's face fell. ‘
Oh
. But last week you were gung-ho. Is there something wrong?'

‘I wouldn't use that word.' She shook her head. ‘Not
wrong
, Spencer, but maybe not
right
. For us that is, for Deravenels.'

Spencer Thomas, in his early fifties, was a boyish-looking man whose unlined face, blue eyes and blond hair belied his age. A Texan, genial and outgoing, he was a long-time veteran of the oil business and had been at Deravenels for eighteen years. Elizabeth liked him, and she trusted him, but not quite enough to share her secrets with him. Always wary, cautious, even cagey, she now dissembled.

‘I'm sorry, Spencer, but I'm afraid Deravenels will have to pass. We can't go forward here.'

He frowned, appeared totally bewildered. ‘What do you mean? I don't understand.' He was almost stammering in his confusion.

‘I'll put it in the simplest terms. We are not going to buy Norseco Oil,' Elizabeth announced, her voice neutral.

Spencer sat back in his chair, so startled he had lost all power of speech. Eventually he asked in a voice suddenly scratchy, even hoarse, ‘But why ever not? It was a great deal, you said so yourself.'

‘A lot of reasons. The company's not right for us. It's basically too big, and I've suddenly grown worried again about terrorist attacks. Also, I've had word, a very
confidential commu
¬
nication
, from a government terrorist expert who says that various extremist groups are planning new attacks on tankers. Most especially British and US tankers. They will be major attacks. Several well-known groups want to create ecological disasters, quite aside from damaging the oil business in general – dis asters costing us billions, by the way. I've been advised by an unimpeachable source to cancel this deal. And that is what I'm doing.
Now
.'

‘Good God! This is terrible. What am I going to tell Jake Sorrenson?'

‘Exactly what
I've
told
you
, Spencer. Because it's the truth. And naturally I shall write a letter to Sorrenson, apologizing.'

It was a warm day in May when Francis Walsington walked into Elizabeth's office, closed the door behind him, and said, ‘She's married him.'

‘I'm not surprised,' Elizabeth responded in the same neutral tone Francis had used. ‘You always said she wasn't very bright.'

‘Apparently not. She keeps compounding mistake after mistake. Anyway, they tied the knot this morning, and no doubt there will be repercussions. She's ousted her brother, who's up in arms about everything, and Jimmy Bothwith rules the roost.'

Elizabeth grinned at him. ‘Cock of the muck heap, eh?'

‘That's one way of putting it. But she's made a lot of enemies, Elizabeth, and that's understandable. She's from a notable family in Scotland … and she eventually comes back from France, manages to create havoc. Widowed, she's soon married to her second husband, who dies in a weird explosion. Or fire – you name it, it's mysterious to say the least. He's hardly been put to rest when she's seen gallivanting around with a local, so-called tycoon, who gets an instant and questionable divorce and marries her.
Today
. Before she even gets married to Jimmy Bothwith she installs him in the ancient family business, getting rid of her brother in the process, who's actually been cast aside without a second glance.'

‘While she's busy making mayhem in Edinburgh she's leaving me alone,' Elizabeth felt compelled to point out.

‘I always said she'd come to a sticky end, and she will,' Francis remarked, ignoring her comment. ‘There's no doubt about that.
I understand Jimmy's been interfering in Scottish Heritage for months now, and there's been a lot of double-dealing. Some very questionable deals have been made, and I've even been informed that some of them may well be considered criminal acts. Those two could easily be prosecuted.'

Elizabeth sat up straighter in her chair and leaned across her desk. ‘What are you getting at?'

‘I have a lot of information on her, on them, and what they've been doing with Scottish Heritage.'

‘How did you manage to get
that
? From her half-brother?'

‘You've asked me such questions for years, and I keep telling you I cannot talk about my methods. I'm your head of security, and I will not permit you to
know
anything. That way you can never be blamed. Or take responsibility for anything I do. Understood?'

‘Yes. You don't have to say another word. But I'm not stupid by any means. The kind of information you usually get has to come from inside the company. And if her brother's not your source then obviously you have somebody embedded who's doing your bidding, and that's perfectly all right by me.' Elizabeth took a sip of water, and finished, ‘How do you like them apples?'

‘They're very good for cooking,' Francis said, and finally chuckled.

‘I just need to know one thing,' Elizabeth began, and took a deep breath. ‘What are you going to do with the information you have on Jimmy Bothwith?'

‘I'm not sure, but I do believe I have to report it. I had a drink with a friend of mine who's with the Fraud Squad. He used to be an inspector with Scotland Yard, then moved on to handle white-collar crime. He told me this afternoon that I must speak to his equivalent with the Scottish police. That it is my duty to do so. Nobody can withhold that kind of information.'

‘Are you going to do that, Francis?'

‘What choice do I have?'

‘What will happen to Jimmy Bothwith?'

‘I suppose he will be arrested, sent to trial. Finally. He's always been two steps ahead of the sheriff.'

‘And Marie Stewart?'

‘The same. She's been hand-in-glove with him all along, and she's possibly an accessory to murder. But certainly she's been his partner in business … in her family business, which they've ruined, brought to its knees in the last few months.
Ransacked
is the word most often used.'

‘So they'll be prosecuted and sent to jail? Is that what you're saying?'

‘I'm afraid it is.' He stared at her. ‘Why do you look like that?'

‘Like what?'

‘As if you're suddenly feeling sorry for her … stricken. And don't start saying she's your cousin. She's your enemy, Elizabeth.'

‘I don't feel sorry for her,' Elizabeth protested.

‘I'm glad to hear it. She deserves what she's going to get.'