CHAPTER NINETEEN
The iron gates protecting the Anderson house hissed open on well-oiled hinges. The S-Class Mercedes swept through, tires crunching on the wide gravel drive, and pulled up outside the house. The chauffeur stepped out and opened the back door of the car. Jessica emerged wreathed in a cloud of cigarette smoke and Chanel No 5. She walked briskly up the four stone steps to the front door, which opened as her foot hit the top step. A butler dressed in an immaculate black pinstripe suit, crisp white shirt and navy blue tie stood to one side to allow her to enter.
‘Good to have you home, miss,’ he said, a flawless English accent exaggerated but natural.
‘Good to be back, Foxworth. Terrible flight though. Delayed for two hours at Heathrow and turbulence most of the way.’
He smiled sympathetically.
‘Is my father here?’
‘He arrived home just before you. I believe he’s in the study,’ Foxworth said. ‘Would you like me to let him know you’re home?’
‘No, it’s okay. I’ll surprise him. Can you fix me a sandwich? I haven’t eaten since I left New York. You know how I hate in-flight catering.’
‘Very well, miss. Turkey or ham?’
‘Turkey sounds good.’ She glanced back at the chauffeur who was hauling her suitcases from the trunk of the car. ‘Jennings, take the bags straight up to my room, and get Maria to unpack for me. After I’ve eaten I’m going to crash.’
Jennings, the chauffeur, flicked the peak of his cap and carried on unloading. Like Foxworth he knew when to speak and when to stay silent.
‘The study you say?’ she said turning to Foxworth.
The butler nodded.
She made her way up the stairs to the first floor where her father had his study. She hesitated for a moment outside the door, then took a breath and opened it.
Carl Anderson sat at a large walnut-veneered desk, tapping away at the keyboard of his laptop. As Jessica entered the room he looked up, stopped typing and stared up at her, a welcome in his eyes. ‘You’re late,’ he said. ‘I was getting worried.’
He had now entered his sixtieth year, but he was still a good-looking man. His thick hair had turned silver and was swept away from a smooth, tanned face. He was taller than Jessica by a foot, and his well-muscled, gym-toned body strained the material of the pale blue sports shirt. The fawn slacks were immaculately creased, but they were in sharp contrast to his black loafers, which were scuffed and well worn. He’d deliberately chosen comfort over style, a minor allowance to the advancing years and to his mildly bunioned feet.
‘I’ve asked Foxworth to fix me a sandwich. Have you eaten?’ Ever the dutiful and attentive daughter, especially when she wanted something.
‘I ate at the tennis club.’ He was the master of negotiation, having taught his daughter as much as she could learn at this stage in her business development.
‘I rang you there to tell you the flight was delayed.’ She pulled up a chair and sat down at the desk opposite him.
‘Sorry, I didn’t get the call. I was in the middle of a game with Oliver Marchant. Beat the old bastard two sets to one.’ He smiled at the memory. ‘I trust everything went to plan.’
‘They’re on their way. They’ll arrive on the island in a few hours.’
‘Well, let’s hope they can sort this mess out. What did you make of Crozier?’
‘He has a sharp mind. The man’s no fool though he plays the part of one quite well. He needs watching. He wasn’t at all pleased with the arrangement we made with the Minister.’
‘Too bad. The Minister was quite happy to accept our offer…and of course there was also the contribution we made to his party’s election fund. He never acknowledged it of course, but I’m sure he found it very generous.’
The door opened and Foxworth entered the room carrying a tray containing a plate of sandwiches, a cafetiere of freshly brewed coffee and two cups. He laid the tray down on the desk. ‘Will there be anything else?’ he said.
‘No, that’s fine,’ Jessica said. ‘Thanks.’
Once he’d left the room she poured coffee into the cups and slid one across the desk to her father.
‘Are you sure you don’t want a sandwich?’
He shook his head.
She took one from the plate and bit into it, savoring the tender turkey smothered in creamy mayonnaise. ‘It’s good to eat,’ she said as she swallowed the mouthful.
‘Evidently,’ Anderson said, watching her with an expression of mild amusement.
‘I hate England,’ she said. ‘It’s so buttoned down. Everything’s so precise, so formal. Everywhere feels constipated.’ A vision of Crozier crossed her mind and she quickly tried to dispel it.
‘I did warn you, but it was your choice to get involved with the Kulsay venture. Nobody twisted your arm. I could have given it to Levy or Baxter, and then they’d be suffering now. But you seemed so insistent.’
‘It appeared to be a golden opportunity,’ she said, a trace of bitterness in her voice. She knew what she was doing, thought she knew what she was doing. She just wished, for once, her father could show his approval of something she achieved.
‘Golden opportunities often hide demons that come up and bite you on the ass when you’re not looking.’ Anderson had collected a variety of truisms during his business life and enjoyed sharing them with those he was mentoring.
‘Then I’ll consider myself well and truly bitten,’ she said. ‘What’s been happening here?’
Anderson leaned back in his chair. ‘Nothing much. There are a few civil cases pending. The helicopter pilot’s family has lodged a negligence suit against us, but Legal don’t think it’s got legs. The fact that both Harrison and the helicopter disappeared and no wreckage was found doesn’t give their lawyers much to work with. What’s to say he didn’t just fly off somewhere? For all anyone knows he could have flown out to the Caymans or the Bahamas, sold the chopper and is now living a life of luxury. The only other pressing matter is the party tomorrow.’
‘Is everything ready?’ She was making short work of the sandwiches.
‘My secretary’s dealing with it, but I understand the caterers and the pianist are booked; thirty-five guests have confirmed.’ He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the desk. ‘I still think it’s impolitic to be going ahead with the party,’ he said.
Irritation flared in Jessica’s eyes but it was gone in an instant, to be replaced by an easy smile. ‘We’ve got nothing to hide, and nothing to be ashamed of,’ she said. ‘No one will be looking at what happened on Kulsay and blaming us for it. Hell, hardly any of them will have heard of Scotland, let alone a remote island.’
‘Except Harrison’s family,’ Anderson said. Voicing remorse for an employee was uncharacteristically humane for the notoriously hardhearted Anderson. Jessica wondered whether he was unwell.
‘They won’t be here,’ Jessica said, her voice cold. ‘I’ve told you before; you worry too much about what people think.’
‘Now, listen. I’ve spent forty years building my reputation. I’m not prepared to sit back and see you destroy it. I’ve given you every advantage; the best schools, a Harvard education, but in some ways you’ve learned nothing. Your arrogance will be your undoing. You think you’re fireproof, but this Kulsay fiasco has proved you’re not. You’re out of your depth, Jessica. My only decision is whether to throw you a lifeline or let you drown.’
She regarded him coolly, but inside her emotions were writhing. ‘We’ve let it be known that we’re doing everything humanly possible to get to the bottom of what happened on the island. If we cancel the party, at such short notice, the media will be all over us. They’ll take it as an admission of culpability.’
‘They might see it as a demonstration of restraint and humility.’
‘We’ve nothing to hide,’ she said again, desperately trying to stand her ground. ‘Our hands are clean. The party will show that.’
He shrugged and got to his feet. ‘If you say so. But if there’s any flack flying around I may not be in a position to protect you.’
‘I wouldn’t expect you to. I’m a big girl now,’ she said.
‘Not to me,’ he said, laying a hand on her shoulder. ‘It’s good to have you home.’
She covered his hand with her own. ‘It’s good to be home,’ she said. At that moment they were both sincere.
She watched the door close behind him and bit her lip. She was scared; more scared than she’d been in her life. Everything now rested on the collective shoulders of Jane Talbot, Robert Carter and the rest of the team on Kulsay. She prayed they wouldn’t let her down.