Exposure (42 page)

King looked at her with contempt. He understood her motives, and maternal concern wasn't one of them.

‘You think I'm a fool? I'm not going to get heavy. I don't want to alienate my daughter. I'll buy him off. And he'll be bought.'

‘I'll go and tell Monique we're ready for lunch,' his wife said. She permitted herself a rare oath of disappointment when she was out of his hearing.

‘I don't understand,' Hugh Hamilton said. ‘What do you mean she's gone?'

It had been a difficult scene that became distressing when Julia's mother burst into tears. Ben had come down with the letter and said brutally, goaded by his own feelings, ‘You needn't expect Julia for dinner. Or for anything else, either. She's gone to Switzerland.'

He was torn between anger and pain; he had no time for social niceties. She had deceived them all, planned it well ahead and simply taken off, leaving with lies to her parents and that letter for him. He dismissed what she had written about loving him. He rejected out of hand her plea for understanding of why she had to go without telling him …

You would have tried to stop me or come with me and I couldn't have stood the pressure. It's taken all my courage as it is
…

Courage. He had exploded when he read that. Obstinacy, foolhardiness. And, above all, upside-down priorities. Never mind about her family, never mind about him. She has to go on and try to win … Seeing May Hamilton in tears calmed him down. He had apologized. There was no use alarming them. It wasn't fair. They didn't know what had happened at the flat. It wasn't the time to tell them now.

So he lied to them. It was a job offer, he said. She knew he didn't want her to take it, so she went off without telling him. He was hurt and angry, but he had no right to take it out on them. They'd been so kind to him and Lucy. It might be better if they packed up and went back to London. They wouldn't hear of it. May Hamilton recovered quickly; she made light of her tears and said she was just a foolish old woman. ‘Please stay and don't upset Lucy.' When did he think Julia would be back? He couldn't answer.

I don't know how long this will take, but I've got to see it through to the end. I wish I could tell you about it, but I will when I get back. Promise me you'll listen
.

‘I don't know,' Ben had to tell them. ‘It may take some days. She didn't give an indication. If you're sure … of course we'll stay. It's done Lucy so much good. Thanks.'

The rest of the day and the evening had been a strain of which his daughter was unaware, with forced
bonhomie
on all their parts for her benefit. Ben was glad to excuse himself early. He felt like getting drunk. But he couldn't. He wanted to be alone, but the bed where they'd made love, and she'd sidestepped his idea of marriage, was no place for him to sleep. Marriage, commitment, they weren't for her. He had been building a fantasy world for both of them. No cosy domestic future with a child of their own instead of a cat … Her career came first. It had always come first, and he had refused to face that. She was going to confront Harold King. She had said it in those words, and then added something that turned his stomach with jealousy.
I won't be in any danger. There'll be someone with me
. Someone. Not him. Who? Who could she ask to go on such an assignment? Felix Sutton. Sutton had been the one she'd called on after the attempt to kill her. She'd been out drinking with Sutton that same evening. Sutton, the ex-boxer, must be the ‘someone' she'd taken with her.
He
was too cautious, too bound up with Lucy … He wouldn't be up to the challenge. He was too old.

He slipped downstairs in the small hours and helped himself to Hugh Hamilton's whisky. Then he dialled Felix Sutton's home number. Officially the holiday was over, all newspapers were working, but not necessarily the political staff. The House was in Christmas recess. He swallowed the neat spirit and tipped more into the glass as he let the phone ring. He wanted to yell, Answer … Answer, you bastard … But there was no reply, and no taped message. Sutton wasn't home.

He went back upstairs and fell asleep on top of the bed without getting into it. When he woke in the morning he realized he couldn't spend another night in the Hamiltons' house. He said to Hugh, ‘I'm afraid I raided your Scotch last night. I couldn't sleep. I must buy you a bottle.'

‘Don't talk rubbish. I raided it myself.' He lowered his voice slightly so that his wife wouldn't hear him in the adjoining kitchen. ‘All this upset, it's so bad for May. I'm sorry to say this, but what Julia's done was very selfish. We thought she'd changed in the last few months. For a long time she thought of nothing but getting on and getting to the top. We hardly saw her … I'm going to say something when she does come back. Lying and walking out like that. Especially on you. It's just not good enough. I hope she'll think this damned job is worth it.'

‘If she brings it off,' Ben said bitterly, ‘I don't think she'll care. I have to tell you, I think this is the end of the road for us, anyway. And I'd better get back to London. I lost my job, too. People forget about you if you're away from the action. I'll go and get Lucy up and organized. See you and May later.'

When they had gone Hugh came and slipped an arm round his wife's shoulders.

‘He was so hurt,' she said. ‘He looked dreadful, as if he hadn't slept. I just can't understand my own daughter.'

‘Well, we're not going to try,' he said firmly. ‘All I can say is that she'll regret it. He's a good man and he'd have made her happy. No, darling, you're not cooking lunch. I rang up Tom and they've asked us over. We can spend the day with our grandchildren. That'll cheer us both up.'

‘This is grim,' Leo Derwent remarked, looking round the small residents' lounge. ‘Are you the only one here?'

‘No,' Julia answered. ‘Two couples and one woman. She's English, but she spends all day skiing and goes to bed early, I think she said good morning once. Anyway, I didn't come here to have fun.'

His condescension irritated her. She recognized it as a sign of nervous tension. When she was uptight she snapped for very little reason. Ben teased her about a redheaded temper. She dared not think of Ben. Leo had asked for whisky and soda. She had ordered wine for herself.

‘He didn't want to come to me,' Leo said. ‘Tried to get me to go over there. But Gloria talked him into it. She thinks I'm going to ask for her hand in marriage.'

He had a sneering laugh that grated on Julia. She stared at him, ‘You haven't asked her?'

‘No, but I might. Depends how this turns out. And she's shown me how to make his favourite drink. He mixes it himself at home. It has to be just right.' He looked at her; he had pale flint-coloured eyes. ‘Grenadine, Perrier and freshly squeezed lemon juice.'

She said slowly, ‘And he won't taste anything else?'

He shook his head. ‘No. I tried it out. With alcohol and without – he likes so much lemon juice and it's so strong it masks the taste of the vodka. He's coming round at six-thirty. So you'd better arrive at about seven. I can keep him talking and get two drinks into him. He swallows the stuff like water. I've noticed when I've been at the chalet. I must admit,' he said suddenly, ‘it could be very interesting when you walk through that door. Aren't you just the teeniest bit nervous?' He mocked her to disguise his own apprehension.

‘No, not nervous. Scared witless,' Julia answered. ‘And so are you. I've brought the tape for you. Here.'

It was so small it fitted into her purse; a narrow oblong box less than six inches across.

‘It's simple; you just set it and it's voice activated. The range is thirty feet minimum. Just put it on a table out of sight. It'll record up to two hours.'

He weighed it in his hand. ‘It's small enough.'

‘They come much smaller,' Julia pointed out. ‘But they're not so accurate and the range is less. We want every word clear.'

‘What a dirty business journalism is,' he remarked. ‘Almost as dirty as politics.'

‘I'm glad you said that instead of me. I'll be there just before seven. But what happens if by any chance he hasn't drunk the stuff?'

‘They'll ring through from reception when you arrive,' he answered. ‘If anything's gone wrong, I'll tell them I'm busy and will meet you in the bar. Don't worry, I've thought of everything. My head's on the block too, don't forget.'

Julia stood up. She held out her hand. ‘It'll be worth the risk. He's an evil man, Leo. It's time someone stopped him. Good luck.'

He shook her hand briefly. He still had that limp clasp she remembered all those years ago when she met him with William Western. Somewhere, buried in a box file, was the unpublished profile she had done on him. It was ironic that they should have come together in any common enterprise. ‘Good luck to you too,' he said. ‘We're both going to need it.'

Then he was gone, and as he left, the young French couple poked their heads round the door, saw Julia sitting alone, smiled at her briefly, and retreated. It was the last evening she wanted to spend alone.

11

‘Daddy,' Gloria said, ‘you will be nice to him, won't you?'

Harold King was in a bad mood. He didn't want to leave his own home and drive to the Regent Hotel. It disturbed his evening. The meeting with Leo Derwent hung over his day like a cloud. Gloria's pleading annoyed him. ‘She's crazy in love with him,' Marilyn had said. She was certainly behaving as if she was, and that enraged him. He didn't soften when she clung to his arm and smiled up at him.

‘Depends what he wants,' he snapped. ‘If it's some political cock-up and he thinks he can make use of me … I
won't
be nice!'

She looked away from him. ‘I'm sure it's not anything like that,' she said defensively. ‘He'd never try and take advantage of you.'

‘He knows he wouldn't get away with it, that's why.'

Gloria stepped back from him. ‘Supposing he wants to talk about me?'

He glared. ‘Why should he? What about you?'

‘About our relationship,' she said. She felt close to tears. He had a bruising way with other people; she wasn't used to it, and it hurt.

‘Your relationship is no business of mine. What are you, for Christ's sake, a child? You're sleeping with him and that's nothing to do with me. You know what I think of him, and I haven't changed my mind. I'm going, and it had better be something important or I'll have his balls!' He swung away from her.

Gloria blinked back tears. She started to get angry. He was being deliberately brutish and difficult. She didn't know for certain why Leo wanted to see him in private, but there had been hints … ‘If you ever do decide to get married,' he'd mused one day, ‘your father would have to agree first.'

She had allowed herself to think of something more permanent than the episodic lovemaking, the evenings spent together at the theatre and the opera, and the days they had to spend apart. When she did spend a full night with him, which was not too often because her father didn't like it, she enjoyed making him breakfast and pandering to his little whims. It satisfied her need to feel enslaved instead of guilty.

She found her mother watching television. King had satellites and could tune in anywhere. Marilyn loved Sky TV. She had never had a serious interest in her life, Gloria thought.

‘Has your father gone?' She glanced up and then said, ‘You look upset – anything the matter?'

Gloria had never confided in her mother. She had never shared anything with her. They had been incompatible from the start. She had never ever criticized her father to her. Gloria said sharply, ‘No – nothing! Do we
have
to watch this crap?'

Marilyn was used to her rudeness. She shrugged. ‘You don't. There's a set in the library, there are sets all over the house. But I'm watching this one. And I'm not changing channels.' She heard her daughter slam the door as she went out.

Leo hadn't felt so nervous since he stood up in the House and made his maiden speech. His stomach was churning, and it heaved when reception phoned through to say Mr King was in the lobby.

‘Ask someone to bring him up,' he said.

Good manners required him to go down and greet Gloria's father, but he dared not risk a suggestion to go to the bar … He was in the corridor when King emerged from the lift, following a page boy.

‘Good evening, Harold,' he said, coming forward. He slipped a few francs to the boy and guided King to his room. ‘Sorry I couldn't come down when you arrived, but I was in the middle of a call from London. Official business. They never leave you alone …'

King grunted. Call from London … Self-important little sod, trying to impress him. He looked round the room aggressively. ‘This is nice,' he said. ‘Must be costing Gloria a packet.'

‘Please sit down.' Leo's freckled skin tinged with pink at the jibe, but he smiled at King and added, ‘It's very nice of you to come; I do appreciate it. And I have your special all ready for you.' He turned to the table with the jug of rosy grenadine and lemon juice. Ice cubes bobbed on the surface. He had poured half a bottle of 80 proof vodka into the mixture and stirred it vigorously to distribute the spirit. He had sipped some himself. No taste; just the bitter-sweet mix of lemon and grenadine, that was the advantage of vodka; it was flavourless and didn't smell on the breath. His hand shook slightly as he poured out a glass and then added Perrier. He stirred once more with a long cocktail spoon and handed the drink to Harold King. ‘I've been coached by Gloria,' he said. ‘I hope that's how you like it?'

King took it and set it down beside him. ‘What's this all about, Leo? Why do you want to see me?'