Smokescreen Page 16

  ‘She’s not his wife,’ Olivia corrected, but Francis was not really listening to her. Ever since she had felt bound to tell him about Alex bringing Lilian Eve and her baby to stay at the house, Francis had been disapproving, and this present development was evidently as unpalatable.

  ‘I can’t understand why Cosgrove puts his trust in him!’ he exclaimed now. ‘I mean—Alex Gantry was never the saint you seem to think him. Oh, he had a hard time of it all right, when his mother died. But afterwards, long before he knew the truth about her death, he was a source of great distress to his father.’

  Olivia turned to him now. ‘How?’

  ‘Oh, the usual way.’ Francis sighed. ‘There were always girls—from the minute he was old enough to know the difference. Girls, and when he was old enough, motorbikes and fast cars. His father bought him out of a dozen different scrapes before Alex delivered the final insult.’

  Olivia shook her head. ‘I didn’t know that.’

  ‘Well, you wouldn’t, would you? I doubt Alex would betray that kind of confidence. Besides, he probably believes the world owes him, instead of the other way around.’

  ‘Yes.’ But Olivia was disturbed, and she was glad when they were interrupted by the arrival of a man in white overalls, carrying a tray. The smell of hot rolls and coffee was tantalising, and the man’s black face creased into a wide smile as he set the tray on the table.

  ‘ ’spector Roche thought you’d like some breakfast,’ he drawled, straightening. ‘He says he’ll see you in thirty minutes, if you’ll come down to the office.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Olivia was grateful.

  ‘A pleasure, ma’am,’ the man essayed politely, and let himself out again as she turned to the tray.

  ‘Hmm, hot rolls,’ she breathed, inviting Francis to join her as she spread one liberally with butter from an iced container. ‘I’d forgotten how hungry I was.’

  This time Inspector Roche was waiting for them when they entered the administration building. He turned out to be a tall fair-skinned South African, and his smile was friendly as he invited them into his office.

  ‘Mrs Gantry,’ he greeted her smoothly, urging her to a chair. ‘And Mr—Kennedy? Am I right? Mr Graham was here earlier, and he told me your name.’

  Olivia blinked. Who was Mr Graham? But this was no time to concern herself with trivialities, and linking her hands in her lap, she said: ‘You know why we’ve come?’

  Inspector Roche picked up a pack of cigarettes from his desk, and after offering it to both of them and being refused, he put a long slim cylinder between his lips. ‘There was a man in Ashenghi recently who claimed to be a representative of the—Gantry corporation, am I right?’

  Francis nodded. ‘That would be Philip Ndobe.’

  ‘Ndobe? Yes, I believe you’re right.’ Roche flicked his lighter and lit his cigarette. ‘But I didn’t know this man, and I’d had no instructions from Mr Graham to give him the information he wanted.’

  Olivia sighed. ‘Well, that’s not important now, is it? We’re here. And we are bona fide representatives of the company. I—my husband was Henry Gantry. Alex Gantry’s father.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I know.’ Roche inclined his head, and Olivia wondered rather irritably whether ‘Mr Graham’ had told him that too. ‘And you want to know what happened to Mr Gantry—Mr Alex Gantry, that is. For some pecuniary reasons pertaining to his late father’s estate.’

  ‘You could put it like that.’ Francis exchanged a wry look with Olivia. ‘First of all, would you recognise Alex Gantry if you saw him?’

  Roche stared at him in evident bewilderment. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  Francis made an impatient gesture. ‘Alex Gantry—do you know Alex Gantry?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘So you’d recognise him if you saw him?’

  ‘I would,’ Roche nodded. But before Olivia could draw an uneven breath, he added: ‘However, as Alex Gantry is dead, I don’t—’

  Olivia came round to find herself lying on a couch in Inspector Roche’s office. She had not noticed the couch earlier, or the fly-spotted ceiling; but now she had plenty of time to observe both as Francis sat beside her, patting her hand.

  ‘Olivia!’ he was saying agitatedly. ‘Oh, Olivia, please wake up!’

  ‘Would you get out of my way?’ Inspector Roche shifted Francis aside and bent over Olivia capably, offering a cup of cool water to her parched lips. ‘Drink this,’ he urged, cradling her against his shoulder. ‘It’s the heat. You’re probably a little dehydrated.’

  Olivia sipped the water gratefully, but as her memory returned to her, she knew it was not the heat that had made her lose consciousness. It was the news that Alex Gantry was dead. Dead! Which meant that the man masquerading as him was an impostor.

  By the time she had finished the glass of water, Olivia was feeling well enough to sit up, and Inspector Roche resumed his seat. ‘Shall we go on?’ he suggested, glancing at Francis, and Olivia nodded before he could respond.

  ‘Please,’ she said, holding herself stiffly. ‘You—you were saying Alex Gantry was dead. Can—can you tell us how that happened?’

  ‘Of course.’ Roche riffled through some papers on his desk and produced a narrow file. ‘This contains a copy of the report the South African authorities prepared at the time of his death—’

  ‘The South African authorities!’ Olivia was blank.

  ‘Yes.’ Roche sighed. ‘You didn’t know he was living in South Africa at the time of his death?’

  ‘No.’ Olivia shook her head. ‘I understood—’ She gestured towards the windows. ‘The mine…’

  ‘Ah.’ Roche nodded. ‘You knew he was one of the original owners of Gstango Ore?’

  ‘Original?’ Olivia was confused.

  ‘Of course. Gantry abandoned the scheme years ago. I’m afraid your stepson was not interested in the long-term benefits of the development. The mine was going through a bad patch. Money was scarce. Gantry cut his losses, and sold out.’

  ‘I see.’ Olivia put an unsteady hand to her head. ‘And—and Alex’s partner?’

  ‘Mr Graham?’ So that was who Mr Graham was! ‘He managed to keep the mine going. It was tough, but he made it, and since we discovered this area is rich in pitchblende—’

  ‘Pitchblende!’ Francis interrupted him now, and Olivia gazed at him in surprise.

  ‘Yes, pitchblende,’ agreed Roche dryly. ‘I see you are not unfamiliar with its by-products, Mr Kennedy. Gstango Ore has become one of the most profitable developments in the world.’

  Olivia shook her head. ‘I’m afraid I—’

  ‘Uranium, Mrs Gantry,’ Roche inserted smoothly. ‘The Tsaban government has granted the sole concession to Gstango Ore.’

  She tried to take it in. ‘So—Alex would have been rich, had he lived.’

  ‘No.’ Francis was impatient. ‘I told you, Mrs Gantry, Alex was a loser. He sold out. Inspector Roche has just said so.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Roche nodded. ‘But I must tell you, Mr Graham had tried to find him. Unfortunately, by the time he was successful Alex Gantry was dead.’

  ‘When did Alex leave? When did he go away?’

  Roche frowned. ‘A little over two years ago.’ He sighed. ‘There were other—problems, of a personal nature. I don’t think I should go into them.’

  ‘Oh, please.’ Olivia was urgent. ‘I—I wish you would. What kind of personal problems?’

  Roche hesitated. ‘It concerns a young woman—’

  ‘Lilian Eve!’

  ‘How did you know?’

  ‘Does it matter?’ Olivia shook her head. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well,’ Roche moved his shoulders, ‘she’s a fellow countrywoman of mine—a nurse, at the hospital here in Gstango. She—she became involved with Alex Gantry. I think she thought he might marry her. In any event, he didn’t, and soon after he went away she found she was pregnant.’

  Olivia shivered. ‘It was—Alex’s child?’

  ‘Without doubt.
’

  ‘Did he—did he know?’

  ‘That I can’t say.’ Roche looked a little discomfited now. ‘What is relevant is that she stayed on here, at Gstango, and had her baby.’

  ‘A boy.’

  ‘Yes.’ Roche made no further reference to her foreknowledge. ‘When we discovered that Gantry was dead, Mr Graham made himself responsible for her. He wanted to give her a share of the mine, but she refused.’

  Olivia caught her breath. ‘This—this man—this Mr Graham you speak of, what—what does he look like?’

  ‘Olivia!’ Francis spoke involuntarily, her name spilling naturally from his lips.

  ‘Wait, Francis,’ she said, squeezing her hands tightly together. ‘Well, Inspector? Does—does Mr Graham bear any resemblance to—to the man you knew as Alex Gantry?’

  Roche frowned. ‘Why do you want to know?’

  ‘Please—just answer my question.’

  Roche shrugged. ‘Well, I suppose there were similarities. They were of a similar height and build.’

  ‘And colouring?’

  ‘Yes. Now you come to mention it, they were both fair-haired, although Mr Graham has much darker skin.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Olivia exchanged another charged look with Francis. ‘I—I should like to speak to—to Mr Graham. Is that possible?’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’ Roche shook his head.

  ‘You’re afraid not!’ Olivia got agitatedly to her feet. ‘But you said—you said you’d spoken to him earlier.’

  ‘I did. But he left soon after. He flew back to Ashenghi.’ He paused. ‘The head office of the mining company is there. But I believe he said he was flying back to England tonight.’

  ‘Back—to England,’ echoed Olivia faintly.

  ‘Yes. He has—friends there. Why? I’m afraid I don’t know their address, so I couldn’t put you in contact with him.’

  ‘That’s all right.’ Francis had got to his feet now, and it was he who answered the inspector. ‘We—er—I think we’ve learned all we need to for the present.’

  ‘I’m extremely sorry about your stepson, Mrs Gantry,’ Roche offered, getting up also and holding out his hand in farewell. ‘If you’d like to take the report, I have instructions that it may be offered to you.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Olivia accepted the folder. ‘It was very good of you to see me.’

  ‘Not at all.’ Roche smiled, which took years off his somewhat tough appearance. ‘By the way, Mr Graham has offered you the use of one of the company helicopters, should you prefer to fly back to Ashenghi.’

  ‘A helicopter!’ So that explained how Alex—no, not Alex, Mr Graham, she corrected herself incredulously—had been able to reach Gstango so quickly.

  ‘We’d be very grateful.’ Francis answered for both of them, and Olivia could see how relieved he was at the realisation they would not have to make the journey overland again.

  ‘Very well.’ Roche showed them to the door. ‘I will contact the mine manager and let you know when transport will be available. Until then, I suggest you avail yourselves of the bungalows you occupied last night. Goodbye.’

  In Olivia’s bungalow, Francis flung himself on to the couch with a grunt of disbelief. ‘Imagine it,’ he said, before she could make any comment. ‘Alex Gantry is really this Mr Graham! He has to be. But why is he doing it, that’s what I’d like to know!’

  ‘For Sacha,’ said Olivia at once, almost without conscious thought. ‘Sacha is Henry’s grandchild. And if he hadn’t been prepared to do something, nobody would.’

  * * *

  Olivia and Francis arrived back in London the following evening. They were both exhausted, and after the briefest of farewells, Olivia went to find a taxi to take her back to Chalcott. Francis had his own car at the airport, but she refused to allow him to drive her home.

  ‘We’ll talk tomorrow,’ she assured him firmly. ‘And thanks, Francis. Thanks for everything.’

  The taxi ranks were busy, and she was leaning wearily against a pillar when a hand touched her sleeve. ‘Taxi, lady?’ an unmistakable voice offered softly, and she swung round disbelievingly to find Alex standing behind her.

  ‘Alex!’ she exclaimed, but he shook his head apologetically.

  ‘Leon,’ he corrected her dryly, picking up her belongings. ‘Leon Graham. Come on—the car’s over there. I got held up in the traffic, and I thought for a minute I’d missed you.’

  Olivia shook her head. ‘It’s so busy! I thought I was going to have to wait hours.’

  ‘After waiting hours in Ashenghi, I know,’ remarked Leon swinging open the Maserati’s door. ‘Get in. I’ll dispose of these.’

  Trying to disguise the way her hands were trembling, Olivia got into the front of the car, schooling her features to composure when he got in beside her.

  ‘How—how did you get back to London before we did?’ she ventured, as he negotiated the way out of the terminal area. ‘I thought there only was one flight a day to England.’

  ‘There is.’ Leon accelerated into the tunnel. ‘I took one of the mining company’s flights to Lagos and got a connection from there.’

  ‘I see,’ Olivia nodded. She had expected to meet up with him in Ashenghi, but had been somewhat relieved to find he had already left. Somehow, the idea of meeting him again in Francis’ company had not been appealing, particularly when her late husband’s assistant was still suspicious of his motives.

  They cleared the airport concourse, and once they were on the M4 heading for Maidenhead, he glanced her way. ‘Well?’ he said. ‘Do you forgive me? Or am I forever damned for making such a mess of things?’

  Olivia’s tongue circled her lips. ‘I think you’d better tell me about it. Then—then I can decide. Inspector Roche explained about Alex. I—I have his report in my bag.’

  Leon added. ‘Then you’ll know how he died.’

  ‘In a brawl in Johannesburg? Yes, I know. What I can’t understand is, what was he doing there? And why did he leave Gstango, when there was every reason he should stay?’

  Leon sighed. ‘Let me tell you about Alex, hmm? Let me try and explain the kind of man he was.’ He paused. ‘I’m not saying he was a saint, but he wasn’t as bad as that report seems to suggest.’

  ‘Francis said he was a loser.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, Francis would. And I guess he was, in a way. But that’s the way somemen are made. They seem bent on a course of self-destruction. Alex was like that.’

  Olivia tilted her head to one side. ‘You liked him, didn’t you? You really liked him.’

  Leon acknowledged this with a faint inclination of his head. ‘Yes. Yes, I liked him. When we met in 1971, I guess you could say we identified with one another.’

  ‘You mean, you and your father quarrelled?’

  ‘In a manner of speaking. Unfortunately, my father died before I could make amends. He never forgave me for abandoning a university career.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘But that isn’t relevant here, is it?’ Leon grimaced. ‘We’re talking about Alex, about Alex’s hang-ups, and I guess he was a bit of a tearaway.’ He looked her way. ‘How did you feel about him?’

  ‘Latterly?’ Olivia bent her head. ‘I think you know the answer to that.’

  Leon’s hand pressed her knee for a moment, and then, doggedly, he went on: ‘As I say, when Alex and I got together we had similar aims. We both wanted to succeed, for different reasons. The engineering job I’d gone out to Zambia to accept had fallen through, and I guess Alex had been mooching around for longer than that. Anyway, we got on together, and we told one another our troubles. I heard all about Chalcott, and the house and Alex’s life there; and naturally I took Alex’s part when it came to the matter of his father. We talked for hours and hours. I guess I got to know Chalcott as well as anyone can, who’d never been there.’

  Olivia looked at him. ‘Go on.’

  ‘Well, we worked at various jobs, technical drawing, engineering, we even worked in a steel mill, but event
ually we saved enough money to buy a concession at Gstango, and I guess Roche told you the rest.’

  ‘He told us the mine had floundered for a while.’

  ‘It did.’ Leon pulled a wry face. ‘As I said to you that first morning we talked together, quarrying minerals can be a soul-destroying business.’

  ‘He—he also told us about—about Lilian.’

  ‘Did he?’ Leon frowned. ‘Well, I guess it was relevant. That was how we found out what happened to Alex.’

  ‘So he said.’

  ‘Yes.’ Leon hesitated. ‘I suppose I should tell you how that happened—’

  ‘You don’t have to—’

  ‘I do.’ Leon was adamant. ‘Let me see—I suppose it began as soon as Lilian came to Gstango. Even in a place as remote as that, we needed hospital facilities—men could be hurt, there were rock falls. Anyway, we eventually built up a small hospital staff, and among them, as you know, was Lilian.’

  ‘Did Alex love her?’

  ‘Love?’ Leon grimaced. ‘That’s a strange word to use in connection with Alex. I don’t know that he ever loved anyone, except perhaps his mother. After she died…’ He shrugged.

  ‘But he must have cared about her.’

  ‘I suppose he thought as much of her as he was capable of feeling,’ agreed Leon quietly. ‘But it was never a tranquil relationship. Alex was too quick-tempered, too volatile; and when Lilian told him she was pregnant, he just took off without a second thought.’

  ‘He took off?’

  ‘Oh, the mine was having a bad time. Nobody wanted our ore. The world was in recession, and it seemed likely we were going to fold.’

  ‘But you didn’t.’

  ‘No, we didn’t. We discovered uranium, in sufficient quantities to ensure the mine’s survival.’

  Olivia shook her head. ‘Poor Alex!’

  Leon sighed. ‘How do you think I felt? Lilian had had the baby by then, and I wanted her to have what was rightfully hers. But she wouldn’t listen. That was when I instituted enquiries to find Alex.’

  ‘And—and Adam?’

  ‘Cosgrove?’ Leon shrugged. ‘Well, he had kept in touch with Alex, as you know. When Alex disappeared, I wrote and informed him, and after that, he kept in touch with me.’