miracle, but this wasn't the year of miracles.
She thought of the long, lonely nights ahead of her. She knew too that her conscience would be burdened by the guilt of her betrayal. She had done this disgusting act of disloyalty only to keep Daz for herself. Why go on? She asked herself. You can't hope to live with yourself . . . so why go on?
She went into the kitchen, moving slowly like a sleepwalker and found a small, sharp vegetable knife. Taking this with her, she paused to put the front door on the latch, then she went into the bathroom. She turned on the bath taps and stood in a black daze until the bath was half full of tepid water. She kicked off her shoes and stepped into the bath. Her pleated skirt ballooned out and she pressed it down. She felt the comforting water soak through her clothes to her despairing body.
She lay still. Would it hurt? They said it was the easiest way to die. Gritting her teeth, she drew the sharp blade across her left wrist. She cut deeply and she fought back a cry of pain. The knife slipped from her hand. For a brief moment, she looked at the water surrounding her, now turning pink and darkening, then she closed her eyes.
She lay there, thinking of Daz with his handsome face and his long black curly hair and his beautiful strong body until she quietly slid away from a life she no longer had use for.
Chapter Four
Armo Shalik returned to his suite at 08.30 hrs. on Monday morning. He was met by Sherborn who reported that Fennel was in Paris. He explained the circumstances while Shalik sat at his desk, glowering at him.
'I hope I did right, sir. Had I know where to contact you, I would, of course, have consulted you.'
The fact that Shalik had had an unsatisfactory week-end with a call girl somewhere in the country, and he had no intention of advertising this fact to Sherborn, increased his rage.
'Well, he's gone. He said nothing about what he thought of the Kahlenberg set-up?'
'No, sir. He was in and out like a rocket.'
Shalik had a feeling this was going to be a black Monday. Had he known that the three tapes, recording the details of his plan to steal the Borgia ring had already arrived on Max Kahlenberg's desk, he would have considered this Monday to be a disaster, but he didn't know.
Irritated and short tempered, he presided over the 09.30 hr. meeting, explaining to Gaye, Garry and Ken Jones that Fennel had had to leave and was now in Paris.
'There is no need to go into details,' he said. 'Mr. Fennel left so hurriedly he was unable to tell me his opinion about Kahlenberg's security measures. I trust he will be able to tell you when you all meet at the Rand International hotel. As I have a busy morning, there is no useful purpose served in prolonging this meeting.' He looked at Garry. 'You have studied the maps I gave you?'
'Yes . . . no trouble,' Garry said. 'I'll get there.'
'Well, then the operation is now in your hands. I have done my best to make it easy for you. It is now up to you. You will be leaving tonight, and you will arrive at Johannesburg tomorrow morning.' He paused, hesitated, then went on, 'It is only fair to warn you that Fennel is a dangerous criminal, but absolutely necessary if this operation is to succeed.' He looked directly at Garry. 'You appear able to take care of yourself, so I will ask you also to take care of Miss Desmond.'
'That will be my pleasure,' Garry said quietly.
'Oh, Armo!' Gaye said impatiently. 'You know I can well look after myself. What are you fussing about?'
'Men fuss over beautiful women. I am no exception,' Shalik said, lifting his fat shoulders. Again he looked directly at Garry who nodded. 'Well, bon voyage and success, Sherborn will give you your tickets and all the necessary details.'
When the three had gone, Shalik looked for his list of appointments which Natalie always left on his desk. He couldn't find it. Again, he had a feeling that this Monday was going to be more than tiresome. Angrily, he went into her room. That she was not sitting at her desk as she had always sat for the past three years startled him. He looked at his watch. The time was 10.00 hrs. Returning to his office, he rang for Sherborn.
'Where is Miss Norman?'
'I have no idea, sir,' Sherborn returned indifferently. Shalik glared at him.
'Then find out! She may be ill. Call her flat!'
The buzzer of the telephone sounded. Impatiently, Shalik waved to Sherborn to take the call.
Sherborn picked up the receiver and said in his pompous voice, 'Mr. Shalik's residence.' There was a pause, then in a voice suddenly off-key, he said, 'Who? What did you say?'
Shalik looked angrily at him, then stiffened for Sherborn had lost colour and there was alarm in his eyes.
