‘Goodness, Mr Steiner, you flatter me!’ she cried teasingly.
‘I flatter you, perhaps, but I also speak the truth.’
‘So?’
Shiva Steiner sighed. ‘You doubt my sincerity?’
‘Not at all. I’m just waiting for you to come to the point.’
Steiner spread his hands flat on the table. ‘If I may say so, my dear Sarah, if either of us is evading the point, I suggest it is you. You still have not given me a positive answer to my invitation of last night.’
‘I don’t accept invitations from strange men without thinking about it first. I’m still thinking.’
‘You have my word, there will be no compromising conditions. In these days of what is called “Women’s Lib” a woman is surely her own mistress?’
‘Not in the Ruler’s country, from what I hear. Don’t they still stone women for adultery and flog them for fornication?’
‘Those are stories built up by the newspapers. It only happens in primitive areas. As my guest, you will be frequenting the most exclusive circles. But of course —’ he tilted his head and smirked — ‘I know some girls who like to be flogged. It breaks the monotony.’
‘Well, it certainly doesn’t turn me on,’ she said coldly. ‘And if it’s going to be that sort of party —’
‘Please, please!’ He raised both hands as though warding off a blow. ‘You must forgive me, it was my little joke. Of course it was not serious. The party will be eminently respectable. But I have a suggestion to make. It is by way of a favour to you in return for the honour you will be extending me by accepting my invitation.’ He paused. ‘Sarah, I would like you to accompany me this evening to a small private dinner party which His Imperial Highness is giving at his chalet in Klosters. It will be an informal affair — just myself, an American archaeologist and his wife, and an elderly Italian princess.’ As he spoke, he counted the names off on his fingers. ‘Five, you see. A small party, but an awkward number. Will you make up the sixth?’
‘Who’s the unfortunate woman you’re going to drop?’
Shiva Steiner gave an unctuous smile. ‘Now I shall have to flatter you again. A young French actress — very pretty, but very stupid. His Highness will not miss her.’
‘What time?’
‘His Highness dines early. I will collect you downstairs in the hotel at 6.30. His Highness’s personal helicopter will fly us to the chalet.’
She stood up and held out her mittened hand. ‘Thank you, Shiva. I’ll see you this evening.’
‘Just one thing,’ Steiner said, as she turned to go. ‘I would prefer that you did not mention this engagement to D’Arcy-James or any of his friends. His Highness prefers these matters to remain private.’
She nodded, and walked briskly off the terrace into the lobby, and across to the ladies’ toilet. When she emerged a few minutes later and was crossing the balcony to the lifts, she happened to glance down into the well of the main hall.
In a corner, behind a marble pillar, stood two men. One of them was Shiva Steiner; the other, the man with the bruised face who had left the terrace shortly before. Sarah stared at them, then drew back in case Steiner saw her. She was not so much suspicious as amazed. Steiner was not talking but listening, while the man with the wounded face was speaking rapidly, with quick short gestures. Steiner just stood against the pillar facing him.
What surprised her was not merely that such an unprepossessing creature could claim the attention of an important man like Shiva Steiner; but that Steiner had cut the man dead on the terrace only a few minutes earlier. And now that Sarah was gone, Steiner was treating him like an honoured client.
If it had not been for her hangover, she might have reasoned more clearly. As it was, her suspicions were distracted by what seemed a more immediate problem. She was wondering what she would do if the Ruler wanted to sleep with her that night.
Up in her room, which Steiner had now reserved in her name for another night, she rang down for a plate of smoked salmon sandwiches, hung DO NOT DISTURB outside the door, and went to bed.
CHAPTER 26
‘Democracy! In one word the New Testament of the twentieth century.’ Shiva Steiner’s fingers flashed under the subdued light of the single chandelier. He used his hands like a conductor orchestrating the conversation — adagio, andante, presto — and as he gestured, his bright little eyes moved over the faces round the table, judging exactly the mood of the evening.
They had finished the first course and, for the moment, seemed to be content to listen to Shiva Steiner.
‘Democracy is a word. Like “love”. Like “liberty”. What do they mean? They mean all things to all men. When people talk of “love”, they mean obsession. Love, if it exists at all, is a form of madness. The same with liberty. Liberty, democracy. Half the world is today screaming these
