Fifth Victim

hastily. ‘But I don’t want to spoil Torquil’s birthday, so we’ll—’

‘Oh, that’s so sweet of you,’ Manda interrupted. ‘Well, honey, our limo’s still here. Tell you what, why don’t the three of us go find somewhere to have a drink? Tor won’t mind if we skip out, I’m sure.’

But it didn’t take an expert in body language to tell that Tor did mind. He minded like hell.

The two security men he’d sent to escort us out were hovering with their mouths open, unsure what to do next. The other partygoers who’d received their special invitations had emerged from the yacht club and were closing fast on their way to the Eisenberg liner, with Hunt and Orlando in the lead.

Torquil must have known that for Benedict and Manda to leave now, so soon after arriving and with Dina so publicly in tow, would be the ultimate humiliation. He only had one realistic option, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

‘It would spoil the party if you left, Dina,’ he said, with an almost credible attempt at sincerity. ‘Stay.’ I’m sure it was only shock that made her keep him waiting for a response, but he flushed at her silence and added through clenched teeth, ‘Please.’

‘I … er … yes,’ Dina said faintly. ‘Of course. Thank you, Torquil.’

He glared at her. ‘Don’t mention it,’ he said, his tone ominous. His gaze swung to me. ‘But your friend still needs to leave.’

CHAPTER TEN

There was a long pause after Torquil’s last statement. It was eventually broken not by Dina but by Manda, who threw her head back and began to laugh.

‘Oh Tor, honey, that’s just priceless,’ she said, indicating me with a languid wave. ‘But there’s no way she’s going to walk out of here and leave Dina behind to your tender mercies.’ It was the first time she’d acknowledged my presence.

Torquil subjected me to a rapid scrutiny as if afraid he’d missed something obvious. His mouth opened and closed a couple of times before he finally had to admit defeat. He knew the joke was on him somehow, but he couldn’t work out what or how. ‘Why the hell not?’ he demanded.

Manda laughed again as she removed her dark glasses. I caught the brief flicker of her eyes and realised she’d been waiting for the crowd to arrive. She wanted an audience.

Some things never change.

‘Because, honey, that’s not how professional bodyguards behave, is it, Charlie?’ she said, loud enough to carry. ‘And I ought to know, huh?’

If I’d been hoping for anything else, it was too late now. In my peripheral vision I registered shock in varying degrees. There was no point in denial. Suppressing a sigh, I agreed gravely, ‘Yes, Amanda, you ought.’

Her face twitched. ‘It’s Manda,’ she said sharply. ‘I haven’t been called that for years.’

Two years, certainly. Two years since Amanda Dempsey had briefly proved the bane of my life, trying to protect her old-monied family from threats largely manufactured by their own wilful teenage daughter. Caroline Willner’s fears for Dina, by comparison, were mild and unjustified.

I jerked my head towards the limo. ‘I see you’ve progressed from sneaking out over the castle wall at night.’

‘Yeah, my trust fund finally kicked in.’

I nodded slowly. ‘How is your father these days?’

‘He’s dead,’ she said with a ripe satisfaction, and when that failed to elicit the expected response, she added reluctantly, ‘Natural causes, I’m sorry to say. The old bastard had a stroke.’

Well, you’ve been doing your best to bring that on since you were fourteen.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be,’ she said with spirit that held more than a touch of bravado. ‘I’m not.’

Benedict made an impatient noise in his throat. ‘Sorry to break up the touching reunion,’ he said acidly, ‘but are we gonna stand around here all night, or are we getting on the damned boat?’

Torquil jerked out of stasis. ‘Yeah, uh, let’s go aboard.’ He brushed past me without eye contact and shook his head briefly to the two gorillas. They shrugged and turned away. Manda determinedly took Dina’s arm again.

With Torquil in the lead, we followed him along the network of jetties, through another security gate, and approached what must have been the largest and most luxurious vessel in the place. I let out a low whistle under my breath. With an unblemished dark-blue hull, white upper decks and tinted glass, the superyacht’s huge superstructure was raked back so that it seemed to be moving at high speed even lying graceful at its berth. It screamed of money and class.

The yacht must have been the best part of three hundred feet long. It was wider than a house. I counted about four separate deck levels, plus a helicopter pad. Every deck had big sliding glass doors that opened out onto private balconies, and most had a jacuzzi or a hot tub. Even by Long Island standards, the whole thing was a monstrous display of wealth.

As we neared it, the yacht suddenly lit up, underwater neon turning the surrounding water into an ice-blue glow and sending any aquatic life scattering. Deck lights blazed. There was an audible intake of breath from those approaching, and Torquil turned to catch the reaction. It must have been all he hoped for, because he treated us to a wide smile, the first sign of genuine pleasure he’d shown all evening.

Short of grappling hooks, the only way to scale the endless smooth sides of the yacht was via the lower deck area at the stern, presumably for diving or swimming – although why you’d want to get into the nasty old sea when there were so many private swimming pools on board was anybody’s guess.

Two crewmen wearing an approximation of naval officers’ white dress uniform were standing by to help us along the short gangplank. A gently curving staircase led to the next level, a pool deck, with yet more discreet neon under the water and flanked by sunloungers. I took one look at the acres of teak decking on view and was glad my evening shoes did not have the kind of spiked heels that would leave a trail of damage. Nobody else seemed to bother.

More crew appeared with trays of canapes and drinks, their faces carefully blank to the revelry winding itself into full swing around them. The yacht boasted a sound system with external speakers that must have had half the harbour reverberating to the beat. After about ten minutes, I began to wish I’d brought the ear defenders I normally reserved for visits to the gun range.

It was the kind of party where several people were bound to end up flinging themselves, shrieking, into one of the pools before the night was out – either fully clothed or completely naked, take your pick.

Nobody seemed to bother much about that, either.

I tried to keep a careful eye on Dina without gluing myself to her side, although the yacht had been designed with the privacy of its guests in mind. Every deck had its own personal sun deck, none of which were visible from the others. I was only too aware that things could very quickly get out of hand.

As standard operating procedure, I’d already identified myself to the ship’s captain, pointed out my principal and asked for notification if anyone tried to take her off the yacht without me in attendance. By his reaction, this kind of request was not unusual.

Still, she was my responsibility, and she didn’t need to be taken ashore in order to be taken advantage of, so I ended up doing a constant roving sweep, no mean feat on a boat that size. Dina, apparently oblivious, danced with various people on the pool deck, sat and chatted to others in the thickly carpeted main salon area below. If her earlier experience with Torquil and the glass of champagne had unsettled her, she gave no sign of it. I saw nothing to alert me that she was in danger.

I suppose it was inevitable, sooner or later, that I’d run into Manda Dempsey again as I prowled round the decks. I was up near the slim pointed bow, far enough forward to have a glimpse onto all the balconies and where the volume of the music was less combative. She stepped out of one of the open sliding doorways and made a beeline for me. At first I thought it was purely coincidence, but I quickly realised she’d sought me out. I put my back to the guard rail and waited. She stopped a couple of metres away, took a sip from her champagne glass and said at last in a cool voice, ‘I always wondered if I’d end up meeting with you again, Charlie.’

Smiling to take the sting out of it, I said, ‘And I always wondered if you’d end up in gaol.’