A Woman of Courage (46 page)

The conversation with Sara was more businesslike, as Hilary had expected. Yes, things were going well. Yes, she and Vivienne were getting on fine. Martha was doing splendidly in Hong Kong. The new genetics laboratory was being set up under William Gainsborough's supervision on the outskirts of Shanghai. Profits looked like being ten per cent up for the year.

‘That should keep the shareholders happy,' Hilary said.

‘Why should you care?'

‘Because I'm one of them.'

Sara made no mention of any love life nor did Hilary enquire; it was natural for a mother to be interested but when Sara wanted her to know she would tell her. They had always been a family for secrets. Probably most families were.

2

It was night and they were lying in bed before sleep.

‘I want to do something special for my birthday,' Hilary said.

‘Like what?' Craig asked.

‘In all the years you've lived here you've never explored the hongs of South Thailand, have you?'

‘I don't even know what they are,' he said.

‘Of course you do. I mentioned them to you before.'

‘You must make allowances for my great age,' Craig said.

‘You are only six years older than I am so spare me your nonsense.'

‘Tell me again.'

‘They are sea caves on the islands and coast of the Andaman Sea. They are open to the sky, no way in or out on the landward side, and very beautiful. Mysterious too, some of them.'

‘How do you get into them?'

‘By kayak, from the sea. Some of the entrances are so low you have to duck your head and so dark it feels like burrowing into the earth. Once you're inside it's different. It's light and there are mangroves. Even monkeys in some of them.'

‘If I want to see monkeys I can go to the zoo. Less trouble.'

‘Don't be a spoilsport. They are romantic. I thought you'd like that.'

‘I am all in favour of romance in the right place.' With one arm around her, his free hand gentling her breast.

‘Given the great age you mentioned just now I thought that sort of romance might be beyond you.'

‘If you insist on sleeping naked at my side…'

‘I am a shameless hussy.'

‘And all the better for it.'

A little later she said: ‘You're pretty shameless yourself.'

‘I thought you'd never notice.'

Dear God, she thought, I love this man more than I believed it was possible to love anyone.

Sleep then, fathoms deep. When she woke they shared a tray of coffee and biscuits in bed while they admired the golden morning light beyond the window.

‘Lazy slut,' she said.

‘Thank you very much.'

‘I am talking about myself. It's my job to make the coffee.'

‘You can make the next lot.'

She nibbled a biscuit, making it last. ‘Shall we do it, then?'

‘Do what?'

‘Shall we pay a visit to the hongs of the Andaman Sea?'

‘Would you like to?'

‘Christmas in Krabi,' she said. ‘What could be nicer? And then my birthday afterwards.'

‘You'll be sixty-four,' he said. ‘Too old to go exploring caves. By rights it should then be a case of an armchair in front of the fire.'

‘In the tropics? That would be smart, wouldn't it? In any case it's not relevant. The way you misused me last night, I doubt I'd have survived had I been a day over twenty.'

‘Misused?'

‘Manhandled, rather.'

‘That's better. It seemed to suit you at the time,' he said.

‘I heard no complaints from you either.'

The funny thing was she did feel young again. In the shower she thought: Christmas in Thailand. What could be nicer?

SEASON'S GREETINGS FROM HASKINS GOULD

1

It was the middle of a hot Sydney afternoon, fifteen days before Christmas. The season of festive lunches was in full swing but Sara was no more a fan of the business lunch than Hilary had been and never went near Cavaliers if she could help it.

She was in a session with one of the accountants when Desmond Bragg threw open her office door and barged in. No knock, no apology: his indifference to basic courtesies had always exasperated her; she thought sometimes that was why he did it. She looked up from the spreadsheets plastered across her desk.

‘We're busy, Desmond. Can't it wait?'

‘Well now, Sara, I'm inclined to think it can't, no.'

He plonked himself down in a chair on the other side of her desk, a fat man with a fat smile. His eyes were red-veined; his breath would have fuelled a distillery but his mind, as Sara well knew, was a steel trap.

Sara sighed. ‘Give us a few minutes, Alan. OK?'

‘Sure, Sara.'

The young accountant gathered his papers and fled. Sara stared at Desmond.

‘So what is so urgent?'

‘I've just come back from lunch. You know, Sara, you should try it sometime. Amazing what you hear.'

‘Why do I need to do that? You aim to tell me anyway.'

Desmond laughed. ‘Well, that's true. I was talking with Micky Monaghan. Good man to know, Sara. Nobody's got their ear closer to the ground than Micky Monaghan. He told me something interesting.'

Desmond's ego required that Sara coax the information out of him.

‘Which was?'

‘He's picked up a rumour that Haskins Gould is planning a raid on Brand Corporation.'

‘A rumour?'

‘That's all it was. There may be nothing to it but I thought you ought to know.'

‘Have you told Vivienne?'

His eyes met hers. ‘I get the impression she has enough on her plate without bothering her with what may be no more than idle gossip.'

‘If that is what it is.'

‘Be interesting to know if it's true or not,' Desmond said. ‘Any thoughts on how we might find out?'

Clearer than words, Desmond's action in coming to her showed he regarded Sara as the boss in waiting. Very well; she would act like the boss.

‘There may be nothing to it but I doubt we can just ignore it. I'll turn over a few stones, see if I can find anything. And thank you for bringing this to me.'

Desmond knew a brush off when he got one. He raised a sardonic eyebrow. ‘Next thing we'll be calling you towkay neo,' he said.

Sara gave him a cold look. ‘I'll get back to you,' she said.

Desmond hauled himself out of his chair. ‘Ladies man like Haskins?' he said. ‘Hell, Sara, make him the right sort of offer and he might even tell you himself.'

With the door shut behind him, Sara sat and thought.

I was sure you'd know what to do
… Yeah, right. But saying it and doing it were two different things. On the other hand what else had he said?
Make him the right sort of offer…

I'd dance on the moon before I'd do that, she thought. It wouldn't work anyway. But she remembered what Hilary had said to her once.

You will come across situations where you can't do what you know must be done. When that happens get someone else to do it for you. That way you'll get the job done.

She thought about that for a while. Should she discuss it with Vivienne? Vivienne, after all, was the CEO. No, she thought. Vivienne wouldn't approve and there was no point troubling her conscience if there was no need, right?

She'd picked up a few dodgy contacts during her time with Channel 12. Maybe now was the time to use them. She picked up the phone.

‘Lou Masters? Sara Brand. I need a favour.'

Ten minutes later she was talking to a woman who said her name was Dolores Morrison.

2

They met for lunch four days later at an upscale restaurant, chosen by Dolores, in Sydney's east. Sara had understood that lunch would be on her, as would the services she wanted Dolores to provide.

Dolores said she was twenty-three. She had a university education, an angelic smile and a way with her that Sara saw would be useful in her line of work. Dolores Morrison was demure in both dress and appearance but that was misleading because she was an escort and no stranger, she claimed, to industrial espionage. Sara's contact had said she was the best in her field and she needed to be, the fee she was asking.

Sara didn't quite blink but it was close. ‘I'm in the wrong line of work,' she said.

‘You want the best you have to pay,' Dolores said.

‘So it seems,' Sara said. ‘Obviously our arrangement is confidential. No word of it must get out.'

‘A blabbermouth wouldn't last five minutes in my business,' Dolores said.

‘Very well.' Sara looked thoughtfully at the young woman working her way through her
sole Veronique
and was heartened: no false fastidiousness with this one. It was possible she was being set up but doubted it; it wouldn't be in Dolores's interests to double-cross her clients. She decided to trust her.

‘Does the name Haskins Gould mean anything to you?'

Dolores smiled. ‘I like to keep up with the business scene,' she said.

‘Very well. Then this is what I want you to do.'

She spelt it out.

Dolores listened intently while she worked her way through a large helping of strawberry pavlova, with cream. ‘You need to keep up your strength in my game,' she said.

Sara could well believe it. ‘You think you can do this for me?'

‘Haskins has a name for being a stud,' Dolores said. ‘So that part should be easy. But whether I can get him to talk about his business interests is another matter.'

‘But that is the whole point.'

‘I know that. And I could easily say yes of course I can. But I don't work like that. I mean, I can screw him half to death and ask him every question in the book but if he won't tell he won't. I can hardly torture him, can I?'

‘And if I offer you a bonus if you can get it out of him?'

Dolores shook her head. ‘That's part of the deal. Whatever he tells me I'll pass on but if he won't, he won't.'

Which Sara supposed was fair enough. ‘OK. We'll give it a try.'

‘How do I meet him?'

‘The lord mayor's giving a reception in three days' time. I'll get you an invite.'

‘Good. And it's cash up front,' Dolores said.

‘Half up front, half afterwards,' Sara said.

‘No trust, no deal,' Dolores said. ‘Cash up front. And before you ask, I don't take credit cards.' She gave Sara her angelic smile. ‘But lunch is on me.'

3

Watching from a distance amid the pomp and glitter of the reception, Sara thought that Dolores looked like a million dollars. Not surprising; the rates she charged, she was probably worth at least that. It was certainly an eye-catching outfit with more of Dolores on show than some might have thought appropriate, but Sara doubted Haskins would be too discouraged.

She'd been scared Haskins would not be there but he was. They even saw each other briefly in the crush and he gave her his best crocodile smile, the one with the glint of teeth, which she returned in full measure. After that she lost sight of them but was confident Dolores would track her man down; confident too that Haskins would react the way she wanted. After that… It would all be in the laps of the gods and Dolores Morrison.

The next day Dolores phoned. ‘We've made contact.'

‘And?'

‘And I'll keep you posted. These things take time.'

Now Sara was the one being given a brush off. Nothing she could do about it; she would just have to wait until Dolores got back to her. She walked into the bathroom that adjoined her office and stared at her reflection in the mirror. She spoke aloud.

‘Are you up to the job? Are you tough enough?'

The reflection told her nothing but after a minute she nodded.

Yes.

Whatever she had to do she would do. And always, she knew, she would have Hilary to fall back on in case of need.

INTO THE HONG

1

The car delivered Hilary and Craig straight to the resort. It was dark, the underwater lights of the swimming pool welcoming in the tropical night. They had eaten before they boarded the plane so didn't go to the dining room but followed the porter to their room. It was immaculately clean, the huge bed neatly turned down. There were paintings and Thai-style artefacts on the walls. A floor-to-ceiling window looked out over the small town of which nothing could now be seen but the flare of kerosene lanterns in the stalls that lined the main street and the faint shapes of people walking.

‘You want a drink?' Craig asked.

‘No thanks. Me for a shower and bed.'

‘Mind if I join you?' he said.

‘Might be handy if I wake up and feel lonely in the night.'

‘You think that's likely?'

‘Tomorrow definitely. Tonight maybe not.'

‘Snivel,' he said. ‘Sulk. No fun going on holiday with you.'

Hilary patted his hand. ‘Poor baby. Tomorrow I'll give you all the fun you want.'

Before sleeping, with Craig already in bed and the room lights switched off, Hilary opened the bedroom's sliding window and stepped on to the balcony. Lights burnt in the resort and down the hill. She heard the distant murmur of voices, a motor scooter drove down the road, but the faint sounds seemed to complement rather than disturb the silence.

Her birthday was a week away; she felt strong, younger than her years. She drew the warm air into her lungs, aware of what she had seen ten thousand times yet never seen: the peaceful reaches of the night. The stars bore her up amid their blazing fires and a gush of heat, rising from her belly to her head, extended to embrace the peacefully murmuring town, a woman's laugh, the incomprehensible vastness of stars and space. At that moment Hilary knew she was one with all things, no more than a particle yet significant because she was part of the whole and without her all creation would be diminished.