Quest for Alexis (10 page)

“You do seem to have had a narrow escape,” said
Brett when I stammered to an end. “But you must for
get this crazy idea about someone trying to kill you,
Gail. Obviously, it was just some drunk.” His hand
went to his pocket. “I suppose I’d better pay off your
escort.”

Pedro understood the gesture, if not the words. He
backed away, his manhood insulted.

“No, not to pay money. I do not wish.” He turned to
me, still concerned on my behalf. “You okay now,
yes?”

I nodded, pulling myself together and smiling at him.

“Yes, I am okay now. Thank you for being so very
kind and helpful, Pedro. And please thank your moth
er again, too.”

Brett surprised me by adding a few words in Span
ish. With an oddly appealing little bow, the boy turned
and walked off quickly.

“Come on,” said Brett. “Let’s find a taxi and get
back to the hotel.”

“But shouldn’t we report this to the police? Someone
tried to kill me.”

“For God’s sake,” snapped Brett irritably. “You’ve said yourself there was nobody around when it hap
pened, nobody who could back up your word. Just
suppose we could get the police to believe your story
that it was no accident, but done quite deliberately—
what then? What could you tell them to help them
track down the culprit? You couldn’t describe the car, could you? Or the driver?” He shot me a keen, probing
look. “Well, could you?”

I shook my head unhappily. “All the same ...”

Brett cut across me. “The sum total of going to the
police would be to start a lot of inquiries we don’t want.
So far, Gail, we’ve been lucky. So far the press haven’t
got on to the fact that you’re Alexis Karel’s niece who’s
come to try and persuade him to return home. But if
they do, and you stir up trouble with the police, just
think of the headlines—‘Runaway’s niece claims some
one tried to kill her.’”

“All right, you’ve made your point. So we’ve just got
to let him get away with it?”

Brett pounced on the word. “Him?”

“I mean, whoever was driving the car.”

“Forget it, Gail. Put the incident right out of your
mind. If there really
was
anything deliberate involved,
and it wasn’t just a drunk driver who couldn’t control
his car, then my guess is that it must have been some
young hooligan who thought it would be fun to give you
a scare.”

“A scare? But I’d have been killed, I tell you, if that
door hadn’t given way.”

He nodded, frowning. “I realize you’ve had a nasty
shock, but you mustn’t get it out of proportion. Honest
ly, I should try and forget the whole thing, or you’ll
finish up with a persecution complex.”

It was easy for Brett to say forget it. But how could
I ever forget that car roaring toward me with its headlights blazing, blinding me, almost touching the wall
where I cowered helplessly?

Brett found us a taxi, and I climbed in almost in a
trance. I was so deeply absorbed that when Brett spoke
his words hardly registered at first.

“If you hadn’t gone off like that, Gail, I could have
told you there isn’t a chance of finding Alexis in Palma.
He’s skipped out. He’s left Majorca.”

“Left Majorca?” I surfaced with a jolt. “Where is he,
then?”

It was dark in the taxi. Lights from outside gave me
flashed glimpses of Brett’s face. I couldn’t read his expression, but he sounded pleased with himself, almost
smug.

“At the present moment your dear uncle and his girlf
riend are somewhere at sea aboard a
fishing boat,
heading for some destination unknown. They left this afternoon before we even arrived.”

“But I don’t understand. Why weren’t we told at the
hotel that they’d checked out? The desk clerk said—”

“The desk clerk was no doubt well bribed by Alexis
to put inquirers off the scent. Your uncle didn’t want anyone to know they’d left the island.”

“But why not? What’s it all about, Brett? How did
you come to find out, anyway?”

“I happened to run into a chap I know in the hotel lobby. Dougal Fraser. He works for the
Globe,
and he
shot over here yesterday when the story first broke
about Alexis and Belle turning up in Majorca. Dougal
actually had an interview with your uncle. He says
Alexis kept complaining about being hounded by the
press, saying he’s a private citizen, a naturalized Brit
ish subject, and that what he does is entirely his own
concern and no one else’s. And now, apparently, he’s
fixed a deal with a fisherman to take them off the is
land secretly. Not a soul knows where they’re heading.”

I felt stricken, engulfed by an agonizing sense of
failure. That this blow should come scarcely half an hour after I’d narrowly escaped death in a dark side
street. I closed my eyes, fighting tears that threatened
to sweep away the last shreds of my self-control.

“Where ... where do you think they can have
gone?” I faltered.

Brett hunched his shoulders. “The possibilities are
endless, right around the compass. Algeria, the east
coast of Spain, the French Riviera, Corsica, Sardinia.
Or maybe just one of the other Balearic Islands—Mi
norca or Ibiza. It looks as if Alexis has achieved the
exact reverse of what he hoped for. He won’t be left
in peace now. As Dougal pointed out, if they had just
hung around here in Majorca the story would have
died a natural death in a couple of days. But now the
press is on the alert again. This has given the whole
thing a new lease on life.”

“So what do we do now?” I asked miserably.

“We pack up and go home, if we’re sensible.”

“No, Brett, I can’t. Not without trying to find him.”

“Then we just stay put until we get some news.”

“You mean, just wait here?”

“Have you any better idea?” He slung the words at
me. But when I didn’t answer, he added more gently,
“I don’t think it will be for long, Gail. It seems certain
they weren’t equipped for a lengthy voyage. They’ll have to make some landfall in the next twenty-four hours or so, and the minute word comes through we
can get after them.”

“Plus every reporter within range, I suppose,” I said
bitterly. “Why can’t Alexis see that he’s playing into the hands of the gutter press? At this rate we’ll never
be able to keep it from Madeleine.”

Brett said curtly, “Just you remember, Gail, that if
it wasn’t for the newspapers you’d never have got onto
Alexis as fast as this—if at all. And as for your aunt,
that’s your own lookout. It was a stupid idea to try and keep her in the dark.”

I bit my lip. I should have known better than to ex
pect sympathy from Brett. And yet I had to acknowl
edge that I needed him at this moment. I needed his
contacts in the newspaper world if I was to get after
Alexis in time to save the situation. Every day, every hour that passed, the chance of Madeleine finding out grew more likely. Rudi couldn’t keep her in the dark
indefinitely. If she happened to ask for a newspaper,
he could hardly refuse to give her one. And Madeleine
had a radio in her room, though she almost never
switched it on.

I remembered how desperate I had been to come to
Majorca without Brett. Now I was glad that he had
found me out. But I would have to watch my step with
him. I couldn’t afford to go on risking his anger. I didn’t
want him to rush off in a fit of temper.

In an effort to placate him, I said, “Perhaps I made a
mistake deciding not to tell Madeleine, only at the time it seemed best. A shock like that
...
I didn’t
know how she’d react. I just felt I had to try and talk
to Alexis, to try and persuade him to come home be
fore it was too late. And now I’ve got this far, Brett, I
can’t give up. Not yet.”

 In the darkness of the taxi, I felt his fingers touch
my wrist, resting there for an instant. Considering that
he and I had once been lovers, it was a trivial gesture.
But the effect upon me was out of all proportion. I felt suddenly breathless and had to fight a wild yearning to throw myself into his arms.

There was a disturbing feeling of intimacy about stay
ing the night under the same roof as Brett, in a bed
room just across the corridor from him. I wondered if
he was conscious of it, too. I wondered if it brought
back to him, as vividly as it did to me, the other times
we had been together.

Not that this palatial hotel was anything like the
places we had stayed at before. We had chosen sleepy
country pubs where we felt shut away from the outside
world, where they served roast beef and Yorkshire
pudding for dinner and a huge platter of bacon and
eggs to entice us down in the morning. We’d had a
special favorite, an ancient millhouse lying in a fold of
the Sussex Downs, a few miles inland from Brighton.
Our bedroom was cozy under the thatch, with heavy
oaken beams and beeswax-scented furniture. The
whispering of water from the stream outside was a
gentle background to the night hours.

A favorite place. My memory was running riot. In
reality Brett and I had stayed there only twice.

The white telephone on the bedside table reminded me that I had promised to call Rudi. I felt a curious reluctance, but I wanted to ask about Madeleine, too.
The operator told me there would be a delay, so I un
dressed and slipped into bed. I waited with growing
impatience for over an hour before at last the call came
through.

“Rudi, it’s Gail. Is everything all right? How is Mad
eleine?”

“She still suspects nothing, thank heaven,” he told
me. “But, Gail, you’re so late phoning me. I’ve been
worried, expecting a call the whole evening. Have you
seen Alexis? What did he say?”

“No, I haven’t been able to contact him, not yet.”

“Why not? Is something wrong, Gail?”

“The thing is, Alexis and Belle left Majorca before
we even got here.”

“Left?”

“They hired a fishing boat, and we don’t know where
they’re heading for.”

“I see.” There was a brief pause. “Gail, you said
‘we.’ Who do you mean?”

Why did I hesitate? Rudi would have to know sooner or later.

“Brett is here too,” I said slowly. “He turned up at
London Airport just before the plane took off.”

“But how did he know you were going? I told him
you’d decided not to.”

“It seems he phoned Deer’s Leap this morning, and Mrs. Cramp told him I’d gone to catch a plane. So he
put two and two together.”

“Damn the woman. You can’t stop her from gossiping.”

I said quickly, “There’s no real harm done. Brett
isn’t being a nuisance or anything.” I didn’t add that I
was actually glad, now, to have Brett here with me.

“What are you going to do, Gail? I suppose you’ll
come straight back home, won’t you?”

“No, I’m staying here until we get news of where
they’ve gone. It shouldn’t be long—not more than a
few hours, according to Brett.”

Rudi asked, with a sudden rush of suspicion, “Is
Brett there with you now?”

“No, we separated over an hour ago. I’m in bed
now. We’ve checked in at the same hotel where Alexis
was staying.”

There was silence at the other end of the line. I
wanted to end this pointless conversation, yet I couldn’t bring myself to hang up on Rudi.

“I can’t help feeling anxious about you, Gail,” he
said at last. “Being there with Brett. I know how deeply
he hurt you once before. I don’t want that to happen
again. I beg you, please come home.”

“I can’t, Rudi. And you don’t need to worry about
me—at least not because of Brett. It was all over be
tween us long ago. Finished and dead. It could never
happen again.”

“Then why is he in Majorca with you?”