never ceased to hate.
I'm sorry about that, princess,' Schiebel said, 'but these oafs were really fond of the man. I can't think why.'
The Arab who held Selina passed his hands over her body, and spoke to his friends. They nodded, and a stubby finger hooked into the neck of her gown, pulled and ripped to reveal her olive-gold body. The hand moved again to enjoy the firm young flesh, and Schiebel shook his head. The hand at once was still.
'These men are boors,' said Schiebel. 'They propose to—how shall I put it?—enjoy you beside the bodies of their friends, and yours. They seem to find it appropriate in some way.'
'I can't stop them,' said Selina.
'No. Only I can do that. The experience might be good for you—in my terms, that is. It might teach you submission. On the other hand, it might make you even more determined to kill me.'
T doubt that,' Selina said.
'In any case,' said Schiebel, 'I think I might save that pleasure for myself.' He pushed the gown aside, let it fall back. 'When we have more time of course.'
'It would be better if you killed me now. It's the only chance you've got.'
'No,' said Schiebel. T have many chances. What do you suppose your father would do if he knew you were in this embarrassing predicament? I greatly fear he would come here to kill me, don't you?—which is exactly what these good people want.' He nodded at the Arabs. 'I want your help, princess. It will be better if you give it willingly, and keep your father out of this.'
He said in Arabic: 'Let her go,' and she was freed at once. She took up a patterned robe, and let it hang from her shoulders to cover her body.
'What am I to do?' she asked.
'I want you to come to England with me,' said Schiebel, 'so that I can keep an eye on you. You'll be returned to your father if you both behave.'
'Why England?'
'I want Naxos back with us where he belongs,' said Schiebel. 'We need his vote, princess.'
» Chapter 17 *
Craig rested, and spent time with Pia in his flat in Regent's Park. Naxos stayed in a nursing home that Loomis provided for Sir Matthew Chinn. Naxos worried about his wife, and Loomis brooded about luring Swyven back out of Venice. Grierson devoted his life to finding out about Swyven, and always it came back to the same thing: at prep school, public school, and university, in his six weeks in the army and six months in the Foreign Office, his travels in Arabia and tantrums in dress shops, to one principle he held true. Swyven loved his mommy, and nobody else. Loomis frowned, and rang up Sir Matthew, and frowned again, and sent Grierson away, and brooded again, and told Miss Figgis what to do about Craig.
Craig was teaching Pia how to speak Greek and drink tea. She found both processes very funny, and laughed a great deal, and so did Craig. He looked alert and fit, and ten years younger than on his return from Greece. He also looked very slightly restless, and Pia had seen this already, and was worried by it. When the phone rang, she scooped it up at once, said 'Just a moment, please,' and handed it to Craig.
'There is a woman called Figgis to speak to you,' she said, and frowned. 'She does not sound like a Figgis.'
'Who?' said Craig, and took the phone. 'Craig here.' he listened to the sultry purr and said: 'Yes. Of course. Where is it? Now? Okay.' He put the phone down. 'I've got to see Fhp Naxos,' he said.
'Blondes,' said Pia. She said it the way Rommel might have said 'Montgomery.'
'She's ill,' said Craig. 'In a nursing home.'
'Okay,' said Pia. 'I'll come with you.'
'No,' said Craig. 'You can't, love. This is business.' He thought hard. 'Look,' he said, 'why don't you give Grierson a ring? He knows a lot of theater people. Tell him I said he should show you around.'
'Are you getting rid of me?' she asked.
T have a job to do,' he said, and kissed her. T don't want you just to sit around and get bored.'
He kissed her again, put on his jacket, and was gone. Pia stared at the door, and didn't doubt for a moment that her time with Craig was at an end, yet she remained dry-eyed. To weep would have been an impossible self- indulgence. She dialed Grierson's number instead.
» « »
Sir Matthew said: 'She's talked about you rather a lot. She thinks she owes you an apology, and she wants to make it now.'
'It isn't necessary,' Craig said.
'I've no doubt,' said Sir Matthew, 'but she thinks it is, and I'm prepared to indulge that. The withdrawal symptoms from heroin can be quite appalling. From time to time she thinks she is going to die—not in any melodramatic sense, you understand. She genuinely beheves it.'
'Is she like that now?' said Craig.
'No,' Sir Matthew said. 'At the moment I have her sedated. But I can't do that all the time. Her only real hope is psychotherapy, but she has to rest from that from time to time. She's led a very odd life. You know about that?' Craig nodded. 'The oddest thing is she still wants it.'
Craig said: 'Are you going to cure her?'
I'm going to have to,' Sir Matthew said. 'Tour friend Loomis insists on it. Come on.'
Craig had expected a bed, and a white-faced, writhing figure in a hospital gown. Instead he saw Philippa in a cherry-pink dress, in a flounced and chintzy room that belonged to a thirties drawing-room comedy. She sat on a sofa, her feet tucked up beneath her, and sipped tea from a Spode cup. Her color was delicate and beautiful, and her impossibly golden hair gleamed. Only her eyes looked dark and shadowed. 'John, my dear,' she said. 'Come in. Have some tea or a drink or something.'
Craig went to a drinks trolley like a cinema organ, and mixed Scotch and ginger ale.
'Come and sit beside me,' said Fhp, and Craig moved toward her.
Sir Matthew sat, neatly, precisely, in a chair nearby, and produced a notebook.
'Just talk quite naturally,' he said. 'Forget I'm here.'
Fhp scowled at him, and turned her back; the procedure seemed a familiar one to both of them.
'He's terrible really,' said Fhp, 'but I have to be nice to him. He means well.'
I'm sure he does,' said Craig.
'I had to see you, John,' she said. 'I've had so much on my mind and I've been ill—and I'm so mixed-up I don't know where to start.'
Craig sipped his Scotch.
'You're deliberately prevaricating,' Sir Matthew said. 'You asked Mr. Craig here so that you could apologize. Why not do so?'
'Oh you,' said Fhp, and turned to Craig, touched his hand.
'It's true though,' she said. 'I do want to apologize. I've done such dreadful things.' 'Surely not?' said Craig.
'But you know I did. I had the steward give you that dreadful suntan oil—' She giggled. 'It was so funny.'
Craig felt the hair on the back of his neck rise.
'Trottia got it for me. He said it would turn you bright blue, like one of your Ancient Britons or something. But you didn't use it, did you?'
Craig shook his head. 'Why did you want to do
that?'
'I didn't. Not really. But Nikki, the steward, said he couldn't get me any white stuff—heroin, you know—unless we got you out of the way first. He said you'd stop him. And I did need it so.'
'But your husband said he thought Nikki worked for me.'
'Harry can be pretty stupid sometimes,' said Flip. 'I guess he never looked at you properly. You never peddled dope in your life.'
'That's nothing to apologize for,' Craig said. 'It never happened.'
'There's something else as well,' said Flip. 'I knew that Harry was going to fool you at Venice. I should have
