She opened another door into an enormous living room furnished with modern cedarwood furniture of Scandinavian design. Persian carpets were scattered over the polished wood floor. Along its outside wall, beyond plate glass windows, ran a terrace, its blue canopy pulled down to keep the room cool.
Beckoning to Ann, her hostess opened a door at the far end, which led into a bedroom. It was decorated in dark blue. She pulled open a mirrored wardrobe and indicated a drawer.
‘Here are some swimsuits to choose from.’ Her gaze took in Ann from head to toe and she was suddenly conscious of her larger hips and breasts. ‘We must be nearly the same size,’ Andrea said kindly. ‘Take this one. You’ll look divine.’
Ann took the minuscule garment in silence. Andrea went on, ‘You can change here. Come, let’s see how you look in it.’ She sat back in a suede‑covered chair and gazed into the full‑length mirror at Ann’s dumbfounded reflection. ‘Come,’ she said again, and Ann sensed the same edge to her voice that Erick’s had held when issuing an order to Sam.
She turned from the mirror and took off her shoes. She unfastened her skirt and let it drop to the floor, then took off her top. Now she was down to her underwear, she was conscious of the eyes of the other woman watching her in the mirror; but strangely she felt calmer, more at ease than she would have expected. She slipped off her bra and pants, then pulled on the bikini. It fitted her perfectly.
‘Let me see you,’ Andrea commanded. ‘Turn round. Yes, as I thought. You look gorgeous.’
Trailing her hand over the clothing on the bed, she rose languidly and slipped her arm round Ann’s waist.
‘You are certainly very attractive. But I had to check you had no microphones hidden.’
She gave Ann a wide smile, then calmly led the way out.
They spent the next couple of hours alternately swimming and talking. As Erick had promised, Andrea explained his earlier remark about his own imprisonment in Denmark.
‘I had several years of pure hell when Erick went away, but my worst problem was that it was such a public disgrace. Was it different for you? Tell me about it.’
‘It was the shock more than anything. I was so unprepared for it,’ Ann said. ‘It’s taken me all this time to get used to the consequences of what Paul did. I was very pampered, I now realise. I thought I had married a conventional bank manager, reliable and trustworthy, and I was his totally respectable wife. I lived in Virginia Water, where I fitted in perfectly. I expected us to grow old peacefully, tending the roses together.’
Andrea threw back her head and laughed. ‘Erick is hardly the bank manager type! I knew exactly what he was like when I married him. I was prepared for ups and downs, but never in my wildest dreams expected him to be labelled a criminal. It was only because that label stuck like glue, even after he had finished his sentence, that our lives changed. Denmark is the most hierarchical society in the world. Erick could not just get on with his life as if nothing had happened so, of course, neither could I.’
‘But people do forget, given time,’ Ann said. ‘I hope so, anyway, or life will be impossible for Paul and me.’
‘Denmark is a small country, which makes a difference,’ Andrea said soothingly, ‘but knowing someone has been to prison is like having one up on them. It doesn’t worry Erick in the slightest now, but I was damned if I’d be labelled in the same way.’ Her pale turquoise eyes narrowed angrily at the memory.
‘At least you’ve got this place,’ Ann said. ‘That must make up for a lot, having somewhere like this to call home.’
‘For me this is like living on a beautiful desert island. I hardly think about the outside world, unless it’s to wonder what our children are doing. I go to Palma a couple of times a week and I fly to London or Paris once a month, but I always look forward to coming back here.’
‘It could easily be the same for me. But I’ll have to go back when Paul’s released. I can’t see him living abroad.’
‘You have plenty of time before you need to worry about that. And who knows? You’ll be a different woman by then. You’ll be independent, used to looking after yourself.’ Andrea patted her thigh. ‘There are a few basic things to learn about working for Erick, but once you are used to them you will fit in perfectly, I’m sure. Someone made an excellent choice when they offered you the job.’
A little while later they were served a tuna and tomato salad and a bottle of ice‑cold Chablis on the covered terrace. Ann looked towards the sea, drinking in the view, and became aware of Erick seating himself between her and Andrea. He helped himself to pieces of tuna from Andrea’s plate, and she slapped his hand in reproof. Erick, laughing, told Ann that they had a visitor whom they were taking back to Palma on the yacht. As they had to pass Cala Vinas, they would drop her off on the way.
‘We will be leaving in an hour’s time,’ he said.
After coffee Andrea took Ann upstairs to change. She peeled off her bikini with no sign of embarrassment and stepped naked into the shower, leaving the door open. ‘You come too, Ann,’ she called. ‘There is another shower.’
Ann was surprised how uninhibited she felt. She undressed and joined Andrea. They dried themselves in the bedroom, laughing together, then joined Erick downstairs.
A speed boat took them out to the yacht, L’Acquisition, where Erick and his guest were talking on the sun deck. He rose at their approach and introduced Ann to the large man in the deckchair. ‘May I present Mr Randolph Purcell?’
Ann shook hands, overwhelmed. The exploits of the British tycoon were usually splashed over the front pages of the newspapers. He owned his own paper, a football club and a vast industrial conglomerate.
‘Glad to meet you, Ann. And how long have you lived on this beautiful island?’
‘Not long,’ she managed to stammer, feeling totally out of her league. As if sensing this, Erick took her elbow and steered her away, telling her he would take her on a tour of the yacht.
‘There are four cabins, allowing us to accommodate eight guests and a full‑time staff of six, including a chef.’ As he spoke, he opened doors into the spacious, well‑furnished cabins. ‘As you can see, it’s fully air conditioned and equipped for water sports. One of these days, Ann, Andrea and I would like it very much if you would be our guest here for a night or two.’
She was overcome. ‘Thank you. I look very much forward to that.’
Erick led her along the lower deck and opened a door into a cabin which was furnished as an office, with dark mahogany panelling and a desk with a computer.
‘This is my favourite office. It’s not big, but very cosy. And wherever we are, we are in contact with the Cave.’ He indicated a chair for Ann and sat down behind the desk, swivelling his chair round to look out of the porthole.
Ann studied the back of his head. She found him more attractive than any man she had ever met. His calm, relaxed manner was such a contrast to what she had expected. Even on the yacht he wore his white tracksuit and went barefoot. But by the manner in which the crew deferred to him, and especially the way Andrea spoke about him, it was clear to Ann that he had their respect. He had hers too. She felt suddenly guilty. How could she even think like that only weeks after having left Paul to serve his sentence?
‘I wanted a few words with you in private. About the job,’ he began. ‘It’s not a nine to five thing, but it will occupy you pleasantly, giving you an opportunity to travel abroad. Sam O’Sullivan’s the only person you will deal with. He will ask you to fly to various places, picking up or delivering certain documents. Sometimes you will come straight back here, other times you will go on to other destinations. You will often go to London, so you can visit your husband then. Have you any objections? If you do not want to do this, please say so. Rest assured that your life on Mallorca will not be jeopardised.’
‘No, I – I’d like work.’
‘You will never be asked to carry anything illegal. You have my word on that.’
She hesitated. ‘What d
ocuments are we talking about?’
‘Share certificates, authorizations for transfers, bank drafts, contracts, business papers – even money. Things we don’t want interfered with.’
There was a knock on the door and Andrea popped her head round. ‘Excuse me, but we are getting close to Cala Vinas. I do not want you to forget to drop Ann off.’ She pulled a face at her guest. ‘Several times he has forgotten to set people ashore at the right places.’
Erick rose and wagged a finger in Andrea’s face. As Ann went to follow him out, Andrea drew her back into the room and closed the door.
‘I want to tell you something.’ Her easy‑going attitude had been replaced by a sudden air of seriousness. ‘It is very, very important that you understand this fully.’
Ann nodded.
‘Whatever you see, whatever you hear, whoever you see or hear about, directly or indirectly, do not mention it to anyone at all. I mean absolutely no‑one.’ She put her face closer engulfing Ann in the light citrus perfume she wore.
‘Your husband’s early release depends on this. He is in the best possible prison, but should you say anything about your work to him or to anyone else, even about people who work for Erick, his situation could change. You understand what I am saying?’
‘Yes.’
Andrea’s gaze was still fixed upon her. ‘I have strong reasons to be paranoid about this. My husband is responsible to an even higher authority. The slightest indiscretion on your part would make him vulnerable.’ She took Ann’s face in both hands.
‘I promise I won’t let you down.’ Ann gazed unflinchingly into Andrea’s clear eyes. She knew she was being asked for a more personal commitment and to her astonishment found she would give it gladly.
Slowly Andrea bent her head and kissed her lightly on the lips. ‘I knew you would say that. Welcome, Ann.’
At Cala Vinas they berthed in front of the hotel. Ann said her goodbyes and walked quickly along the sandy road towards her apartment block.
She still found it difficult being alone. In company she felt fine but back in her apartment loneliness descended. She bolted the front door. Pulling out a mattress, she laid it out on the balcony in the sun. Then she poured herself a large gin with a splash of vermouth and plenty of ice.
The drink made her feel a little light‑headed. She thought back over the events of the day; about Erick in his white tracksuit, and Andrea’s kiss in the intimacy of the small cabin. She could still feel the softness of those lips. It was confusing, with Paul so far away and wanting her to make a life for herself. Now she found to her surprise that she wanted that new life too, with all the dangers and the pleasures it promised.
In the bedroom she stood in front of the full‑length mirror. Holding the glass in her left hand, she took out an ice cube and pressed it between her breasts. Slowly she loosened her belt, holding it for a moment stretched out over her head.
Button by button she opened her skirt, looking down at her tanned body. The skirt fell to the floor, followed by her bra and pants.
‘Not bad for a woman of forty‑six,’ she said aloud.
Her hands moved down from her breasts. One finger started stroking rhythmically. Meeting her reflection in the mirror, she closed her eyes. In the darkness she saw the imprint of Erick, his jacket unzipped, his bronzed chest, his bare feet. She saw Andrea, naked, in the shower. Her legs started to tremble. She slid down on her knees. Her finger continued the rhythmic movement. She came with a short low moan.
Ann did not move for several minutes. Then, walking naked to the balcony, she lay down on the mattress under the hot, caressing sun.
* * *
Sam phoned early the following week.
‘I’ll pop round to see you later this morning.’ His soft Irish accent was music to her ears
Erick wanted her to go to Zurich that night and deliver a briefcase to a bank, Sam told. her when they met. Then she could fly via Heathrow to visit Paul and their daughter being back in Mallorca by Monday.
‘The envelopes in the case contain cash, so be careful,’ he instructed her. ‘Keep the case with you always and don’t let it out of your sight. Don’t worry – there’s nothing fishy about these transactions, but if Customs should ask you about the money, just give them this. ‘He handed her a sealed envelope. ‘It contains the telephone number of a lawyer in Zurich who will explain everything on your behalf. Remember, you must say absolutely nothing.’
‘Can I ask you one thing?’ Ann had made up her mind to be bold. ‘What exactly is the name of Mr Elgberg’s company?’
‘We just call it the Company, with a capital C. But you won’t find it registered anywhere.’ Sam’s tone made it clear that the subject was closed. The Zurich trip had been uneventful. Sam had new orders for her. He went on, ‘This time you’ll fly to Rome. You’ll be met in the airport and taken to where you need to go. From there you’ll visit the same bank in Zurich. Then come back to Mallorca and I’ll have some tickets to London. This time you can’t go direct.’
At Fiumicino airport she was met by a large, elderly, grey Mercedes 600. An hour later the car stopped at a rusty gate which the driver opened, then continued on to a villa with an imposing columned facade, shabby and in need of repair though it was palatial.
The driver told her to ring the bell. A huge man, at least twice her size, opened the door. ‘You are the lady to see Signor Grattini,’ he said, allowing her in. ‘Walk up the stairs, signora. It is the last door on your left.’
She mounted a wide, sweeping staircase, flanked by ornately‑framed oil paintings of the type more usually seen in art galleries. She arrived at the last door and knocked.
‘Si?’ a voice called. She entered. Inside the room, a large elderly man was leaning against a writing desk.
‘Welcome, signora. Please, sit down.’
She had never seen a man with such an abundance of silver‑grey hair. It gave him an air of wisdom and distinction.
He laughed, noticing the direction of her glance. ‘It has gone grey because most of my years have been spent in the pursuit of women. And when at last I meet someone as lovely as you...’ He shrugged with Italian eloquence and gave her his large hand. ‘Rudi Grattini. Enchanted to meet you, my dear.’
‘Would you mind if I asked you a few questions, just to be sure?’ He then asked for details about Paul and Elisabeth that only she would know. Finally he nodded, satisfied. ‘Enough of these games! But I have to be sure who you are for very good reasons, as you will see in a moment.’ He picked up the phone and spoke in rapid Italian.
A few minutes later the giant entered, carrying a grey Samsonite suitcase which he put on the table.
‘Open it, Ann,’ Signor Grattini said, after the giant had left the room. ‘The code number is the year of your daughter’s birth.’
She dialled the figures, pressed the lock and the suitcase opened. There were several long thin envelopes on top which Signor Grattini removed.
Ann gasped. Underneath, the case was full of cash in large‑denomination US dollar bills.
‘Take the case to wherever you have been told to go. My chauffeur will take you back to the airport. Goodbye, my dear – I have a feeling we will meet again soon.’ He kissed her hand, releasing it with a reluctant sigh.
She got through Customs in Zurich without having to open the case. The bank was on the first floor of an anonymous building in a side street in the centre of the city. The last time she was here, she had merely handed some envelopes to the girl on reception, but now she was asked to wait.
A man with a pointed white beard and moustache invited her to step into his office.
‘My name is Count George von Fritzenberg. I am one of the owners of the bank,’ he said, handing her a business card. There was a smell of fine cologne about him.
‘Thank you.’ She pushed the suitcase towards him. He tried to open it but Ann, remembering that only she knew the code, had to help him.
‘That looks fine to me,’
he said, looking into one of the envelopes but not touching the money. ‘Thank you, Mrs Dockett. I trust you’ll have a pleasant trip home. Perhaps next time we meet, you might care to have some lunch with me?’
On the plane back to Mallorca Ann thought how strange it was that two such different people as the gentlemanly Count George von Fritzenberg and the unashamedly lecherous Rudi Grattini were involved in the same business. She settled back in her seat, a slight smile curving her mouth. What would Paul think if he could see her now – a fully fledged femme fatale!
* * *
Her next trip was to London a week later. She was to go to Browns Hotel in Mayfair. Ann knew it quite well, having met Paul there sometimes. Sam had told her that a man called Arthur Black would contact her in the St. George’s Bar.
She arrived early for the appointment and sat down on one of the leather sofas drinking a Martini, thinking how quickly she was becoming used to travelling and meeting the challenges of this way of life.
Erick and Andrea Elgberg had changed her whole outlook. For almost the first time she felt important, indispensable even. She couldn’t let them down.
She also couldn’t stop thinking about them. Although she had met the Elgbergs only that once, Sam had mentioned the possibility of a week’s holiday on the yacht and asked if she would be interested in accompanying them. She had accepted without hesitation, but no date had been given as yet.
The first thing she noticed about the bearded man who entered the bar was his green bow tie with white spots. Very few people, she thought, could wear bow ties with such elan. He also wore a dark red corduroy suit with matching waistcoat and a light blue shirt. The whole ensemble gave him a dandified appearance, but one of singular style.
‘Good evening, Mrs Dockett,’ he said, sitting down next to her. ‘So sorry I’m late, but I had an important client. One cannot be brusque with one’s important clients, can one? And as it was such a lovely evening, I walked here. I try to walk everywhere in London. I adore this town, don’t you? Its mixture of tawdriness and beauty quite fascinates me. I discover something new about it every day.’ He inclined his head towards her. ‘Arthur Black, at your service. Allow me to order you another drink. Would a glass of champagne suit you?’