‘No, sir. She and Mr Nikator said that they didn’t want to be disturbed by anyone, for a long time.’
‘What happens in an emergency?’
‘Mr Nikator said no emergency could matter beside-’
‘I see. Thank you.’ He hung up abruptly.
At the Lukas mansion the secretary looked around to where Nikator stood in the doorway.
‘Did I do all right?’ she asked.
‘Perfect,’ he told her. ‘Just keep telling that story if there are any more calls.’
Lysandros sat motionless, his face hard and set.
The words called to him out of the past, making him shudder.
It meant nothing. She had every right to leave. It was different from the other time.
‘Get out,’ he said without looking around.
The door closed hastily. He continued to sit there, staring-staring into the darkness, into the past.
At last he rose like a man in a dream and went up to his room, where he threw a few clothes into a bag. To his secretary he said, ‘I’ll be away for a few days. Call me on the cellphone if it’s urgent. Otherwise, deal with it yourself.’
‘Can I tell anyone where you are?’
He headed for the airport and caught the next flight to the island of Corfu. To have used his private jet would have been to tell the world where he was going, and that was the last thing he wanted.
In Corfu he owned Priam House, a villa that had once belonged to his mother. It was his refuge, the place he came to be alone, even to the extent of having no servants. There he would find peace and isolation, the things he needed to save him from going mad.
The only disturbance might come from students and archaeologists, attracted by the villa’s history. It had been built on the ruins of an ancient temple, and rumours abounded of valuable relics that might still be found.
Light was fading as the villa came into sight, silent and shuttered. He left the taxi while there was still a hundred yards to go, so that he might approach unnoticed.
He opened the gate noiselessly and walked around the side of the villa. All seemed quiet and relief flooded him. At last he let himself in at the back and went through the hall to the stairs. But before he could climb he saw something that made him freeze.
The door to the cellar was standing open.
It was no accident. The cellar led directly to the foundations and that door was always kept locked for reasons of safety. Only he had the key.
Rage swept through him at having his solitude destroyed. At that moment he could have done violence. But his fury was cold, enabling him to go down the stairs and approach his quarry noiselessly.
Someone was in the far corner of the cellar with only one small light that they were using to examine the stones, so that the person couldn’t be seen.
‘Stop right there,’ he said harshly. ‘You don’t understand the danger you’re in. I won’t tolerate this. I allow nobody in here.’
He heard a gasp as the intruder made a sharp movement. The torch fell to the floor. His hand shot out in the darkness, found a body, seized it, grappled with it, brought it down.
‘Now,’ he gasped, ‘you’re going to be sorry you did this. Let’s look at you.’
He reached over for the torch that lay on the flagstones and shone it directly into his enemy’s face. Then he froze with shock.
CHAPTER SIX
PETRA lay looking up at him, her eyes wide, her breath coming in short gasps. Hurriedly he got to his feet, drawing her up with him and holding her, for she was shaking.
‘You,’ he said, appalled. ‘
‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’
She swayed as she spoke and he tightened his grip lest she fall. Swiftly he picked her up and carried her out of the cellar and up the stairs to his room, where he laid her gently on the bed and sat beside her.
‘Are you mad to do such a thing?’ he demanded hoarsely. ‘Have you any idea of the danger you were in?’
‘Not real danger,’ she said shakily.
‘I threw you down onto stone slabs. The floor’s uneven; you might have hit your head-I was in such a rage-’
‘I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t-’
‘The hell with that! You could have died. Do you understand that?
‘My dear,’ she said gently, ‘you’re making too much of this. I’m a bit breathless from landing so hard, but nothing more.’
‘You don’t know that. I’m getting you a doctor-’
‘You will not,’ she said firmly. ‘I don’t need a doctor. I haven’t broken anything, I’m not in pain and I didn’t hit my head.’
He didn’t reply but looked at her, haggard. She took his face between her hands. ‘Don’t look like that. It’s all right.’
‘It isn’t,’ he said desperately. ‘Sometimes I lose control-and do things without thinking. It’s so easy to do harm.’
She guessed he was really talking about something else and longed to draw the truth out of him, but instinct warned her to go carefully. He’d given her a clue to his fierce self-control, but she knew by now that he would clam up if she pressed him.
And the time was not right. For the moment she must comfort him and ease his mind.
‘You didn’t do me any harm,’ she insisted.
‘If I had I’d never forgive myself.’
‘But why? I broke into your house. I’m little more than a common criminal. Why aren’t you sending for the police?’
‘Shut up!’ he said, enfolding her in his arms.
He didn’t try to kiss her, just sat holding her tightly against him, as if fearing that she might try to escape.
‘That’s nice,’ she murmured. ‘Just hold me.’
She felt his lips against her hair, felt the temptation that ran through him, but sensed wryly that he wasn’t going to yield to it. He had something else on his mind.
‘How badly bruised are you?’ he asked.
‘A few knocks, nothing much.’
‘Let me see.’
He got to work, opening the buttons of her blouse, drawing it off her, removing her bra, but seemingly unaffected by the sight of her bare breasts.
‘Lie down so that I can see your back,’ he said.
Wondering, she did so, and lay there while he studied her.
‘It’s not so bad,’ she said.
‘I’ll get a shirt for you to wear tonight.’
‘No need. My things are next door. I’ve been here several days. Nobody saw me because of the shutters. I
