everything’s going Tor’s way. Which is kinda weird, because from what Tor says, he’s hardly ever around.’
We climbed into the car. I fired up the engine to let the air con disperse the heat that had built up inside the cabin, and found Dina watching me.
‘Why did you ask?’
My turn to shrug. ‘I’m just surprised, that’s all,’ I said, ‘that he’s putting on a big birthday bash for his son when there’ve been these kidnappings. You would have thought he’d be wary of conspicuous displays of wealth – go out of his way to make his son seem a less attractive target.’
She laughed. ‘From what I hear, Tor hasn’t had to ask twice for anything since he was about six years old,’ she said wryly. ‘Can you imagine what would happen if his twenty-first birthday party was cancelled because it might be risky?’
‘He likes taking risks?’
‘He wrecked his first Ferrari when he was sixteen. He’s into skydiving, snowboarding, you name it,’ she said. ‘If it’s dangerous, Torquil will do it.’ But where there should have been a certain amount of respect or admiration in her voice, something more heartfelt took its place.
I checked the mirrors and slid the Merc out into traffic. ‘You don’t like him very much, do you?’
‘I—’ She flicked me a telling glance and lapsed into glum silence for the next couple of blocks before finally admitting, ‘It’s not that. He just doesn’t know when to stop, you know? Like, it’s not funny until someone gets hurt.’
‘Yeah, and then it’s hilarious,’ I muttered, glanced across and caught her frowning. ‘So, why are you going to all this trouble over his birthday? Your mother obviously didn’t want you to go, and you’ve admitted you don’t really like the guy …’
‘It’s not for Tor—,’ she began, biting off whatever she’d been about to say next. ‘Oh, never mind!’
I wasn’t being paid to be easily offended so I just shrugged. ‘OK.’
We drove on in silence, with Dina staring pointedly out of the window. It was the first hint of discord, of temperament, she’d shown in the three days since I’d been assigned to her.
Dina swam every morning in the heated outdoor pool on the lower terrace, while I made a show of apparently lounging around, keeping her company. At varying times we rode out on the beach – Dina on the showy white Cerdo, and me on an elderly chestnut Quarter Horse that had apparently been her previous mount.
Dina had been friendly and chatty enough, without actually revealing much of herself to me, nor enquiring too deeply in return. She seemed most interested in my riding skills, acquired in my childhood and not used much since.
Apart from that, she’d shopped, and gone to hairdressing and beauty appointments, all with me firmly in tow. I’d done my best not to crowd or irritate her and it had seemed to be working fine ’til now. When she’d lunched with her mother at a fashionable restaurant, I’d excused myself to the adjoining bar area and kept a discreet watch over the pair of them from there. If body language was anything to go by, they ended the meal in excruciatingly polite disagreement over something. I didn’t ask, and Dina didn’t tell. We didn’t have that kind of relationship.
And today, she’d quickly accepted that I was not going to act as her own personal pack mule, not that she’d bought much so far. Certainly nothing suitable as a birthday present for the thrill-seeking only child of a billionaire.
I checked my mirrors again before changing lanes, indicating late before our turn-off to flush out a possible tail. There had been no hint of anything so far, but it did no harm to be cautious.
Our destination was a shopping mall that seemed to stretch as far as the eye could see in all directions. My heart sank at the prospect of a long afternoon’s continued dithering, but when I parked up near the main entrance, Dina made no immediate moves to get out.
‘I’m sorry about … before,’ she said in an awkward rush. ‘But, you see, there will be other people there – at the party. People I kinda like …’
‘So, putting up with an evening of Torquil’s dubious sense of humour is the price you’re prepared to pay.’
‘Yes … I guess it is.’ She gave a wan smile. ‘Doesn’t make it any easier to choose a gift for him, though.’
So, her earlier dreaminess had been strictly for the necklace. I sighed. ‘From what you’ve said, it sounds like you can’t hope to buy anything that’s going to impress him, so why not get him something quirky instead? Something that will make him smile. It doesn’t have to cost a fortune.’
She stared at me like I’d suggested she dance naked in the streets. ‘Like what?’
I resigned myself to yet more shopping and nodded to the mall looming ahead of us. ‘Let’s go and find out, shall we?’
CHAPTER SEVEN
In low heels and an all-purpose evening dress, I leant on the balcony rail of the yacht club and stared out across the glittering lights of the harbour.
When Dina had said the birthday celebration was taking place at a regatta, I’d envisaged sailing boats of some kind, slim and sinuous. What greeted me instead was a collection of floating gin palaces, halfway to cruise ship size, bobbing fatly, gleaming and self-satisfied in their allotted mooring spaces, like prize pigs at a trough.
Below me was a wide outside terrace area overhanging the water, strung with fairy lights and bordered by waist-high glass panels, presumably to stop the more enthusiastic partygoers tumbling into the murky depths. There were currently about thirty or forty of them down there, doing their damnedest to put that to the test.
Our host for the evening, Torquil Eisenberg, was at the centre of things and working a little too hard at being the life and soul of his own party. He was a thin geeky kid with a long neck and prominent Adam’s apple above the bow tie of his white tuxedo. I guessed, in different circumstances, he would have had buck teeth and sticking-out ears, too, but Daddy’s considerable riches had fixed what it could and showered him with money in the hope of taking your mind off the rest. If he was into the extreme sports Dina had mentioned, it hadn’t helped convert his stringy physique into anything immediately impressive.
It took me about ten seconds after meeting him to decide I didn’t like the kid. Dina had handed over her beautifully wrapped gift with studied casualness, like his reaction didn’t matter to her. He tore his way through the brightly coloured paper and ribbons and looked suddenly nonplussed when he came to the manufacturers’ logo on the box.
‘Victorinox?’ he said blankly. ‘What’s this?’
‘Why don’t you open it and find out?’ I suggested.
He managed to open the box itself and found, nestling inside, the most comprehensive and expensive Swiss Army knife in the shop, bristling with attachments for every occasion. After she’d chosen it, Dina had gone back to the jeweller’s and had six words neatly engraved along the side of the casing.
FOR THE GUY WHO HAS EVERYTHING
Torquil stared for a moment longer and I could have sworn I caught the slightest twitch at the corner of his mouth, then he looked up and it was gone, replaced by an indifferent contempt.
‘Is that it?’ he demanded, dumping the gift into the hands of a flunkey and elbowing his way towards the next hopeful bearer.
Dina tried to affect a blase pose in response, but I saw her quickly bitten lip and wanted to slap his legs for him. Sadly, such an action was not part of my remit, however much personal satisfaction I might have derived from it.
The party had been going for about three hours by that point. Torquil had made a showy arrival by chauffeured Bell Jet Ranger, touching down on the yacht club’s private helipad, and been swept into a huge marquee on the lawns for a short but concussive set by a moody rock group. I initially had them pegged as a particularly good tribute band and only realised, when the lead singer nearly punched out the birthday boy for making a grab at his favourite guitar, that they were actually the real thing.
The catered meal that followed defied belief, from the massive ice sculptures on the tables to the vintage champagne freely available. Then it was on to the yacht club itself and the partying had started in earnest. What it had all cost was anybody’s guess.
Now I sipped my ginger ale on the rocks slowly, as if it were whisky, and looked for trouble.
