This book is dedicated to

Rosie Cheetham, Susan Lamb, Barbara Kennedy-Brown,
and Tall Poppies everywhere.

Chapter I


'No! Stop it, we can't do this!'

Nina squirmed away. She kept her eyes down, hoping
he wouldn't see that telltale glitter, her dilated pupils.
Her face was flushed from wanting, but it was too soon.

'Come on, sugar, gimme a break,' Jeff said. His voice
was rough, and she could see the outline of his hard-on
through his grey flannel pants. Nina tried to be cool
about it, like Judy or Melissa or any of those popular
girls, and not think how much it would hurt if he put it
inside her. Perhaps he wouldn't get it in, Nina thought
wildly. She'd checked herself out in the bathroom mirror
last night - pretty small. He'd split her in two.

'You drive me crazy,' Jeff breathed, running his hands
inside the burgundy school blazer, finding her voluptuous
breasts under the thin cotton of her outsize shirt. She was
wearing some kind of coarse, heavy sports bra to hold
them back, just like she wore her kilt a size too large, to
cover up her tiny waist and full, round butt - but not
even Nina Roth could hide for ever. Jeff grinned with
triumph as her nipples stiffened against his palm. He'd
been after her ever since he'd come off the basketball
court, thought he'd like a swim, and found Nina doing
twenty laps. After hours, guess she thought she'd be by
herself. Jeff had hidden in a corner to watch. Christ! Who
knew? Nina Roth, scholarship girl, major nerd, charity

hair, trailing down across a cheap black swimsuit,
outlining big firm breasts, a tiny waist, a flaring ass and
long, curving legs. He'd felt his cock throbbing so
urgently in his pants he had to slip into the guys'
bathroom and jerk himself off. That was three weeks
ago.

'Not here,' she said, looking up and down the corridor,
trying to back away. 'Someone might see ...'

'So what?' Jeff demanded sullenly. Nina was hard
work for a chick that never had a guy look at her before.
Sometimes he wondered if she was worth it. He had a
hundred skinny blonde cheerleaders who'd jump through
hoops for the chance to lay him. 'Don't you care about me?'

'You know I do--' The bell rang for third period and
she jumped aside, shaky with relief, as kids came
streaming out of their classrooms. 'I have to go, I got
physics. I'll see you later ...'

Melissa Patton came sidling up to Jeff's locker, her
arins laden with cute pink files covered in butterflies.
Melissa was blonde, thin, bouncy, scraped by in most of
her classes. She always talked about being an actress or a
model. Real popular with the girls.

'Hey, Jeffie ... some of us were going to see Rage, that
movie? D'you wanna come along?' Melissa smiled
invitingly, tossing one shiny blonde ringlet out of her
eyes.

Glazer shook his head, liking the way her eyes moved
appreciatively across his chest muscles. Missy and her

crowd never missed a football practice.

'I'm going to hang in the park.'

'With Nina Roth?' Melissa's manicured nails curled
around her gold eternity ring. He could smell Chanel
No. 5 mingling with the newly washed scent of her hair;
his mom would love Melissa. Jeff shrugged.

'I don't know why you bother. She's only into math,'
Melissa snapped, and flounced away, blonde curls flying.

Right! But Nina made Melissa look like a stick of
spaghetti ...

Jeff Glazer slammed the door of his locker.


Inside the quiet, gleaming classroom Nina Roth took
deep breaths, taking in the smell of chalk and polish and
disinfectant, trying to concentrate on what Sister Bernadette
was saying. Normally this was one of her favourite
classes; Sister Bernadette had been a research fellow at
MIT before taking the veil, and it was cool to learn from
somebody like that. But not today.

The class sat hunkered down at their desks, bored and
restless, drawing in their margins with one eye on the
clock. Rows of smart burgundy blazers and crisp cotton
shirts, tailored linen pants or neat, swinging kilts were
turned towards the teacher, eyes staring glassily at the
blackboard where Sister was outlining equations in
chalk. They did things the old-fashioned way here: the
College of St Michael the Archangel was big, impersonal
and expensive, one of the most prestigious schools in
Park Slope. Brooklyn's richest parents had been sending
their kids here for decades, paying through the nose for
the nuns, the uniform, the Catholic education. Most of
the trust-fund babies ignoring Sister Bernadette were
atheist or Episcopalian, but so what? St Michael's was all
about cachet, not the Church.

The kids shifted in their seats. One or two glanced over
at Nina, the nerd, the scholarship girl. Her uniform was
stretched and shapeless, but everyone knew she had to
buy stuff secondhand. Anyway, she never cared how she

looked; she was always lost in her stupid books ...
'So, the sum of the angles is ...?'
Silence.
'Nina?'


3

Nina jumped in her seat, dragging her mind away from

the feel of Jeff's hands on her breasts. She flushed a dark

red.

'Excuse me, Sister?'

The teacher pursed her thin lips. 'Nina, what did I just
ask?'

'I - I don't know, Sister.'

'I'm not surprised. You're miles away. How do you
expect to get anywhere in life, Miss Roth, if you don't
pay attention in school?'

Mean giggles from the class. Nina felt the familiar haze

of humiliation creep over her again. They all knew she
was the only one here who'd have to work her way up:
heir folks were lawyers, doctors and bankers; hers were
a retired cop, a slob who lived for beer and Jeopardy, and
a wasted alcoholic who ran their rundown deli between
blackouts.

'Miss Whitney?'

'Ninety degrees, Sister,' Josie Whitney said smugly,
shc?oting a look of triumph at Nina.

But Nina didn't care, not today. Because she was
dating Jeff Glazer, the hottest guy in the school. Maybe things would be different now, Nina thought as she
scribbled furiously. Maybe her luck was finally about to
change.


Nina Roth was an only child, which was just as well,
since her parents couldn't have afforded a second.
According to her father, wheezing and complaining
whenever he signed a cheque, they barely managed the
first. Mark and Ellen Roth shared a dingy walk-up on
South Slope and an air of bitter disappointment. They
also shared a daughter, but for as long as she could
remember, Nina had only got attention during their
endless fights. A pawn to be squabbled over. Pop was in
his fifties, fat, squalid, a major armchair jock. He


4

mouthed off about the government and the Yankees and
the weather in front of the TV, never shifting his
blubbery body to do a thing about it. Pop said he was
retired from the force, but Nina heard on the street he'd
been canned for theft, siphoning off confiscated money
and goods for himself. She never asked him about it. She
knew it was true.

Then there was Mom. Nina thought she remembered a
time when her mom loved her, took her walking in
Prospect Park, bought her Italian ice cream on Court
Street, or best of all, took her out to magical Coney
Island in the summer, to ride the funfair and eat cotton
candy.

But that was when she was very little. Before Dad had

come home. Before Ellen started to drink.

Then things got bad very quickly.

These clays Mom only hugged her in a drunken stupor,
with her breath rank and tears of self-pity streaking her
thin cheeks. Nina hated it, hated her, lreferred to be left
alone. Ellen didn't really love her daughter, Nina knew
that. She took comfort solely in a bottle. Her mom was a
sour woman, cocooning herself in an alcoholic fog from
the misery of her life, often blacking out for entire days.
She kept just enough control to staff the family store, a
scuzzy 7-I with peeling Coke ads on the door and a
loaded pistol under the counter. Ellen sold cigarettes,
booze and candy bars and counted the money. Matthew
took deliveries, stacked shelves once a week. The important
stuff, like accounts and reordering, Nina took care
of. She'd asked to do it when she turned thirteen.
Somebody had to put bread on the table.

Nina was sixteen years old. She knew her rich
classmates despised her. She hadn't been popular at Beth
Israel Elementary, either, when she was ten years old and
studying desperately for the St Michael's scholarship, but
she didn't give a damn, because school was the way out

Her whole life had one blind obsession: to get out of the
South Slope, away from the drugs and the garbage, the
graffiti, the gangs, the stray dogs.

Away from all the dirt and despair. Away from home.
Even so, it hurt, the way the other kids shunned her,
never inviting her to hang out, snickering at her patched
up uniform and secondhand blazers. Nobody ever asked
her to sit at their table at lunch. Nobody picked her for
their team at games. She'd gotten the reputation for being
a loner, and nobody ever bothered to disprove it - at
least, not until three weeks back.

That miraculous day, Jeff Glazer had actually strolled

up to her locker after French, and casually asked if she'd

,like to go out with him.

At first Nina just stood there blinking, convinced this

had to be some particularly cruel joke. Glazer was
seventeen, school quarterback, the only son of very
wealthy parents, and a major hunk; muscular, tall, with
Viking-fair hair and ice-blue eyes, Jeff had every babe in
school flirting with him constantly. He'd dated and
dropped half the best-looking ones already; ex-girlfriends
swore he was a stud but a user, but that never stopped
the next crop of giggling cuties trying out as replacements.
Nina Roth would as likely fly to the moon as be
asked out by Jeff Glazer.

But he was there. And he was asking.

'Like a date?' she stammered.

Jeff gave that indifferent shrug of his. 'Sure. You want

to?'

OK, so it wasn't exactly Romeo and Juliet, but when

he'd sat next to her at lunch, Nina wouldn't have traded
the envious stares of Judy Carling and her crowd for all
the roses in the world.

She pinned her compass to the paper in front of her

and mechanically traced out a couple of angles. It
couldn't last like this, she knew that. Jeff wanted to make


6

love to her, and if she didn't let him, he was going to
dump her. Even when she said she was too young, Jeff
told her that everybody did it, she was way too uptight,
and if she loved him she would make love to him.

Nina thought of the sniggering when Sister Bernadette
said she'd have to get on in the world. They were all
snobs and she hated them. But it didn't matter when she
had Jeff - he'd picked her, not them. And some of the
guys on the football team, even some of the girls, had
started including her in stuff since she'd been dating him.
Was she going to give it up? Just 'cause I'm chicken?
Nina thought. He does love me, why would he touch me
like that if he didn't love me? And I know I love him ...

Nina breathed in deeply, trying to stop her heart
thumping so hard against her chest. She could be as good
a girlfriend as Melissa or Judy or Josie ... as any of those
rich babs. Jeff was gonna expect an answer in Prospect
Park tonight. And the answer was going to be yes ...

Chapter z


The turrets of Caerhaven Castle towered black as coal
against the twilight sky, darkened from the rain and
wind. The bitter storm had raged all day, churning the
sea to fury against the cliffs below and uprooting two
pear trees in the castle orchards. But tonight nobody
noticed the weather. Light streamed from every window
in the medieval walls, from the sturdy marquee set up on
the croquet lawn and from the stream, of Bentleys and
RollsoRoyces crunching past the stone dragons on the
front gates and up two miles of gravel drive.

The Countess of Caerhaven was giving a ball.
'Goddamn it, Monica. Where is that wretched child?'
Tony Savage, Thirtieth Earl of Caerhaven, tugged at
the waistcoat of his immaculate white-tie suit. He hated
being defied. Not only was he holder of one of the oldest
titles in Wales, lord of Caerhaven Castle and seven
hundred acres of rich farmland, Tony was Chief Executive
of Dragon plc., the family company. Founded on
blood money from the slave trade, Dragon was a
pharmaceutical giant, with divisions worldwide. It was
publicly held; Tony Savage had eleven per cent.

At his side Monica shrugged, offering her hand to a
new batch of arrivals. 'Joanna, delighted you could come.
Richard, how good to see you ...' Tall and elegant, the
second Lady Caerhaven swished around in a sea-green
Baleniaga, pearls looped round her neck, sapphire clips
pinching delicate earlobes. She smiled dazzlingly at every
unfamiliar face: Cabinet ministers, industrialists and


8

investment bankers, along with the society set. She was
charming to them all. So important for Tony's business.

The earl nodded softly to himself. Monica looked
wonderful, behaved perfectly. Never gave him a second's
concern. She knew her place was at his side. None of that
feminist claptrap had ever sullied her brain; she just liked
spending his money, hosting his parties and dazzling the Tatler set every season. Women envied Monica and men
wanted her. She was the perfect wife.

Monica Savage had done her duty in every way. There
was Charles, Lord Holwyn, and Lord Richard; the heir
and the spare. And if she no longer welcomed him into
her bed, that was fine too: Tony Savage had women
whenever he wanted them. Monica pretended not to
notice and got her little baubles from Tiffany or Gar
rard's as a reward.

Tony grinned. If he'd chosen the Hon. Monica Fletcher
first, he'd have had no problems whatsoever. As it was,
there was only Elizabeth.

Tony glanced at his sons. Charles, Lord Holwyn,
thirteen. Dark and intense, he was destined to look like
his father. Charles was handsome and callous, calculating
like his mother and ruthless like Tony. Just into his
teens and already cocky and self-possessed. It was easy to
be confident: Charles was heir to a title, a castle, London
property and a vast fortune. Eleven-year-old Richard
would get a slice of that too, though nothing like as
much. Another boy might resent it, but Richard was lazy
and easygoing. Charles had dominated Richard since
they were tiny boys, and Richard never complained.
Richard was popular with the girls because he was so
pretty; he made average grades in school; he'd be a
gentleman of leisure and do very well. The kid was only
eleven but Tony could tell. Richard was the image of his
mother.

If only they had not had Elizabeth.


9

The earl checked his watch and felt rage stealing over
him. Elizabeth was late for her own ball.

Elizabeth. Daughter of Louise, Countess of Caerhaven,
his first wife and the only woman ever to make him look
a fool. To this day Tony hated the bitch. Louise worked
when he asked her not to, refused to play hostess, and
cuckolded him with Jay DeFries. His former best friend.
Careless whether they were seen in public, Louise made
Tony Savage a laughing stock and then divorced him
before he'd had a chance to divorce her. He'd hated
everything about her, even his infant daughter. Louise
perversely delighted in the fact her baby was a girl. And
little Elizabeth was just like her mother: the same downy,
,dark blonde hair, green eyes and long, lean body, not a sign of her father on her. Tony was sure she wasn't even
his, but admitting his wife might have borne another
man's child would have been too shameful.

When Louise died, aged twenty-seven, of breast cancer,
the infant Lady Elizabeth moved back to her papa. She
grw up a green-eyed, rebellious minx, her mother
blossoming back up in her like a flower, an almost
uncanny replica, laughing at Tony even in death.

Tony ruined Jay DeFries. Dragon was powerful: it
wasn't difficult. He took over DeFries's business, muddied
the books, got the Fraud Squad in. His former best
friend had gone down for eight years, bankrupt. Hanged
himself in jail.

As Dragon grew bigger, thewhispers grew smaller.
Soon nobody dared mention Louise or Jay; Tony Savage,
Wall Street's Robber Baron, heard nothing but flattery.
But young Elizabeth, running wild, flirting with the local
boys, dressing indecently, blossoming into exquisite,
dangerous beauty, was in his face every bloody day. She
didn't mix with her brothers or stepmother. She was her
mother's kid. The cuckoo in his golden nest.

'I have no idea,' said Monica, beckoning Charles over.


IO

'Darling, do go and find your sister. Tell her to come
down here at once. It's her sixteenth, and David Fairfax
has been waiting for her all evening.'

Tony Savage looked across the grey stone of the Great
Hall, lit by torches flickering in iron sconces and the
roaring fire burning in the grate, past the rich swirl of
silk, lace and velvet, to where the plump figure of a young
man stood, surrounded by toadies and cradling a glass of
vintage champagne. His Grace the Duke of Fairfax, one
of the most eligible men in England. Suitor for the hand
of his only daughter.

'Can't think what he sees in her,' Tony said.


In her bedroom in the West Wing, Lady Elizabeth Savage
leaned against the chill stone of the turret window and
stared out into the night. Her eyes were used to bleak
darkness'and she could make out most of the landscape:
the stable roofs, the black stretch of forest outside the
castle walls, the low hills in the distance. She ignored the
sounds of the glittering party, below her and listened for
the endless sigh of the sea. The cold air tasted of salt.

Granny was dead. Only two days ago she had been
sitting with her in the East Wing, chattering about
business, politics, and the roaring twenties. Granny never
minded her talking on, her curiosity and ambitions. Two
days without her already seemed like an eternity.

Despite what she said - 'Don't be ridiculous, child,
everybody loves you'- Elizabeth knew Dad and Monica
didn't care for her. She thought-it was because she wasn't
a boy.

Elizabeth grew up eager and vivacious. Scandalously
careless of her station, she made friends with the
servants' kids, climbed apple trees in her vest and
knickers, and got suspended four times from Cheltenham
- twice for smoking, twice for swearing at her teachers. A
cold letter to the countess had threatened expulsion. She

wasn't bookish, but Elizabeth was fascinated by business,
the only thing about her dad she admired. There was an
almighty row the day Tony discovered she'd been sending
away for Dragon company reports.

'What is this nonsense, young lady?' he spluttered.
Elizabeth hurried to explain. 'I'm just taking an
interest, Daddy. I thought I could study how Dragon
does its marketing - you know I'm interested in how
people sell things--'

'How people sell things? What are you, a salesman?' 'I want to work at Dragon,' Elizabeth said stubbornly.
'You have no idea what you want to do.'

'I do. I'm fifteen years old. I want to work in
advertising, in Dragon ...'

'Over my dead body.' Tony actually laughed. 'The company is going to your brother! Behave like a lady for
once in your life.'

White faced, Elizabeth had turned and raced away up

the stone staircase, looking for her grandmother. Flushed
with anger, her father drew a deep breath and walked
slbwly back to his offices. With every year that passed, he
was more certain Elizabeth would disgrace the family just
like Louise.

But no. He would never let it happen again.


Elspeth, the dowager countess, had occupied the East
Wing for twenty years since her husband died. She loved
Elizabeth, although she too was convinced the girl was
Jay DeFries's bastard. Elspeth's heart sank each year
Elizabeth grew older, looking like a younger, prettier
version of Louise. She knew Tony would never give the
child a chance.

When Elizabeth sobbed out what her father had said
about Dragon, the old lady coughed drily and gave her a
hug.

'Never mind, Lizzie. He'll come round.'

'He won't.' Elizabeth buried her face in the stiff cotton
petticoats. 'He doesn't want me to do anything! He said
it wasn't ladylike ... and he said if I'm expelled he'll have
Dolphin put down!' Dolphin was her Labrador puppy.
He slept on her bed and she loved him fiercely.

'Did he?' Granny said, frowning. 'I was expelled once,
dear.'

'You? When? Why?'

Elizabeth's face was blotched red and puffy from
crying. Her son was going to crush this one, unless
somebody stopped him. Liz was a merry little thing. She
wouldn't let Tony snuff the child out.

'The year before I married your grandfather. From
finishing school in Switzerland.' A wicked chuckle. 'For

painting my nails red.'

'Just for that?'

'Very Wanton in those days.' Elspeth smiled, slipping
her wrinkled hand over Elizabeth's smooth one. 'So, you
want to work? If that's what you want, dear, you shall.'

Elizabeth shook her head. 'Daddy said the company
belongs to Charlie. He won't let me anywhere near it.'

'But it isn't up to him. I own fifteen per cent of the
stock ... it was a wedding gift. It would get you a seat on
the board. If you like, I'll call a lawyer and change my
will. You can have it on your eighteenth birthday.'
Granny's wrinkled face creased into a smile. 'I don't need
to play at tycoon any more.'

Elizabeth stared at her grandmother. 'Truly? But what
will Daddy say?'

'He can like it or lump it,' the old lady said crisply.
'Oh, don't worry, child. I'll speak to your father
tomorrow. He can bluster away, but that never frightened
me.'

She knew Daddy had called on his mother the same
day.

When he went up to her again the following morningl


x3

however, the earl found Granny stiff in her chair. Dead,
from what the family doctor called a 'routine coronary'.

Elizabeth resented every smiling idiot at the ball
downstairs. All she wanted was to be alone, to have a
little time to mourn. The wonderful news about Dragon
was dust and ashes without Granny. How can I bear
being stuck with the rest of them? Elizabeth thought
blinking back tears.

There was a heavy creak as the ancient oak door to her
bedroom swung open.

'I should have known you'd be hiding up here,' Charles
said. His low voice was full of disapproval. 'Everybody's

waiting for you. It is supposed to be your party, Lizzie.'
'Nobody asked me if I wanted a party!'

'You're spoiling things again, as usual. Mamma can't
believe how selfish you're being. Don't you know David
Fairfax wants to see you?'

'I couldn't care less about David.'

'What's that dress you're wearing? That's not the
gown Mamma bought you!'

lie was annoyed. Elizabeth glanced back at the plain
green Laura Ashley dress with the huge bow on the
bottom, lying rejected over a Regency chair. She'd known
there was no way out of this horrible ball, so she'd snuck
upstairs to Granny's rooms last night. Undisturbed by the
cleaners, she'd unpacked the gown she wanted from
Elspeth's chest of drawers; under folds of crisp white
tissue, hidden away for nearly sixty years, was this vision
of a dress. It was a cloud of the palest gold silk trimmed
with cream lace, a whalebone corset tapering down to a
billowing skirt over stiff petticoats of ivory lace, a discreet pattern in gold thread and seed pearls dusted
over the bodice. It fit Elizabeth's long, lean body snugly,
pushing her small breasts together and lifting them up,
the skirts sweeping gracefully with every movement of
her legs. She'd pulled her tawny hair up into a .formal


4

rench pleat, added topaz drop earrings and slipped her
feet into apricot satin heels.

Dad could try and ignore her now.

'It was one of Granny's,' Elizabeth told him. 'Just go
away, Charles, please.'

'All right, I'm going, but you'd better get down there.
Otherwise, Father's going to come up here and drag you
down, in front of everybody ...'

He would, too. Elizabeth knew that. She had to face
her parents and all their vacuous friends ...

Taking a deep breath, Lady Elizabeth Savage composed
herself, opened her bedroom door, and walked
slowly down the winding stairs to her sixteenth birthday
party.

FChapter 3


'I told you before. I can't come back early tonight, I have
economics,' Nina said.

'Yeah? And what are we supposed to do? The stock
needs checkin'.'

Nina shrugged. They were arguing in the tiny, cramped
kitchen, standing shoulder to shoulder while Nina

'washed the dishes. Ellen gave them a perfunctory wipe
with the towel and stashed them in the rack. She was
only interested in haranguing her daughter.

'You're never around,' Ellen whined. 'You're always
studyin' or out with your friends. Don't even have time
for your mom.'

'Mom, I have to go to school, and I took that job at
Duane Reed,' Nina told her shortly. She was too tired for
this. SATs were two months away, she worked weekends
and two nights a week at the local drugstore, and three
evenings she had to be as fresh as she could for Jeff. The
deli was just too much extra grind. They'd have to work
it out by themselves.

Mr David had been right. Nina's math teacher had
called her in last semester and laid out the facts.

'Nina, I have to tell you, I'm concerned about your
grades trailing off.' He'd looked at the solemn little face
bunched with worry under its mop of raven hair. 'Your
concentration seems to be wandering, you're constantly
tired, and Sister Agnes tells me you fell asleep during
chemistry practical last week.'

'I'm sorry, sir. I'll try harder.'

'I don't think that's the problem.' He paused. 'Are
things difficult at home?'

Nina stiffened. 'No, sir.'

Peter David gently motioned his star pupil to a chair,
wondering how to handle this. He took a personal
interest in the welfare of Nina Roth. She had an
instinctive grasp of economics, the like of which he had
not encountered since leaving Harvard. What most of the
other teachers took for shyness and quietness, he knew
was something very different - a blind concentration, a
steely determination to master her subject. Nina might be
a gangly, awkward teenager, but there was a core of iron
in her soul that almost scared him. Nina Roth was
destined for great things.

And now she was letting it crumble to dust. Her grades
had plunged. Her essays lost their sparkle. The Ivy
League scholarships he'd assumed were sure things were
slipping away.

Mr David felt close to this girl. He'd asked around
when Nina first came to St Michael's, knew all about the
lazy father and the lush mother, heard on the grapevine
that the kid practically ran the family store herself- no
wonder she was so clear about basic business economics.
You didn't have to be a shrink to see that Nina was
compensating hard for her parents' failure, and he
approved of that. But now something had changed; she
was getting exhausted at school.

He knew Nina was too proud to discuss it, but
everything would go up in smoke if he didn't do
something.

'You work for your parents, don't you?' Mr David
asked gently. 'Have you taken on any extra duties besides
that? School clubs, for instance? Drama, volleyball,
something like that?'

Nina smiled slightly. Drama or volleyball, indeed. He

I7


must think she was like Missy or Josie or the rest of
them.

Since she'd been dating Jeff, she needed more money.
He liked her to look pretty, to have good Levi's, cool
boots, whatever the other kids took for granted. And
though he always picked up the cinema tickets or the beer
or whatever, she wanted to spring for it sometimes, and
there was no way her parents would come up with an
allowance.

Before Jeff Glazer she hadn't had a social life, but that
had changed, and she needed money.

St Michael's, Jeff and her parents all taught Nina the
same lesson: money was everything. It was new uniforms

and fancy cars. It was American Express cards and

' respect. It was a house on the North Slope and your own
business, versus a walk-up on the South Slope and a
rundown deli. Jeff's folks versus her parents. Hope versus
despair.

People who said 'Money isn't everything' had one
thing in common.

'None of them was poor.

Nina Roth had known since she was a baby that the
worst thing in life would be to turn out like Mom or
Dad, sitting around, waiting for rescue, waiting for
something to happen. She was filled with contempt when
she thought about it. There was no White Knight. You
made things happen yourself. When Duane Reed advertised
for a junior clerk, Nina marched off to the
interview, lied about her age, and was hired on the spot.
First week, she'd taken her paycheque and opened an
account at Wells Fargo. Each month, she checked her
balance, watching the tiny green glowing numbers with
intense satisfaction. She spent only what she had to, and
those numbers were creeping up. They were small, but
they were growing.

Money was independence, power, freedom.

Nina's eyes narrowed as she looked at her teacher. No
way was she giving up her job.

'I work at a drugstore part-time,' Nina said. She sat up
in the chair, determined. 'I need the money, Mr David.'

'Well, we all need money,' the older man replied,
surprising her, 'but you'll be giving up a lot more money
if you go on this way.'

'I don't understand,' Nina said, but she was listening.
She respected Mr David; he took an interest in her when
other staff hadn't bothered, just dished out good grades
and no feedback. Early on, Peter David graded one of her
projects a 'C' when any other student would have gotten
an 'A'. When Nina complained, he told her she was
smarter than the rest of the class, and therefore he
wanted better results. She'd get graded by her own
standard, s, and she'd only get an 'A' for outstanding

work. If she didn't like it, she could drop his class.
Nina never got a 'C' since.

'You have your SATs coming up, assessments, reports.
You'll need all that for college. Now, we both know that
you're good for an academic scholarship to NYU, Mount
Holyoke, Brandeis, maybe Vassar, but you can do better
than that, Nina.'

'Better than Vassar?' Her eyes widened.

'Sure. Sure.' Peter David nodded impatiently. 'I'm
talking Harvard or Yale. Maybe MIT if you planned to
specialise.'

She shook her head, glossy raven hair gleaming in the
light from the office window. 'I'd.need a full scholarship
for that, and they only give out a handful each year.'

'That's right. You could easily take one of them, Nina,
but not the way you're performing now.' Her teacher
brushed aside her protests with an impatient wave. 'No,
stop giving me excuses. You are a student gifted with
outstanding mathematical ability. Your economics ate


x9

fluid and perceptive. You're strong in physics, chemistry

and business studies, but you're letting yourself down.'
He leaned forward.

'It amazes me that someone like. you would sacrifice
longterm profit for pocket money. Look, Nina, the
graduate market is a market. Maybe it doesn't matter to
some of your fellow pupils, but when you come out of
college, do you want a rsum from somewhere OK, or
do you want to be the best?'

Nina sat there, taken aback.

'Something's got to give,' Peter David said.

She pushed back her chair, stood up straight, and
offered him her hand. She's so dignified, David thought,

his dry academic's heart touched by this tall, awkward

' teenager, standing there so seriously.

He shook it warmly.

'I hear you, sir,' Nina told him. 'I'll work something
out.'

From now on, she thought grimly, Morn and Dad are
on their own.

'Starting that day, Nina cut back on her hours in the
deli. She told Dad he'd have to check the books himself;
she told Mom she'd need to spend more time behind the
counters. But they didn't like it, and every day they let
her know.

'You're workin' for them when we need you here,' her
dad grunted. Nina looked behind her to see him slumped
in his easy chair, eyes fixed on .Wheel of Fortune.

'You don't need me, Daddy, you could do the books,'
Nina said. 'You're just as smart as me.'

'I know that, miss. Don't you sass me,' her father said.
He fancied himself a great brain, always quoting from
Shakespeare and Whitman. Nina despised him all the
more because he was intelligent: an intellectual, real
proud of his education and never doing anything with it.
'I'm busy enough with deliveries ...'


9-0

'They only deliver once a week,' Nina tried. 'And I gotta stack the shelves. That's real work.'

Nina waited for Mom to wade in shrieking, but there
was only silence. They were united for once. Against her.

'You spend way too much time with that fancy jock
you're seem',' her mother snapped.

'He's not a jock, he's just athletic,' Nina said, her
buttermilk complexion lighting up. She couldn't help it.
Just the mention of Jeff was like the sun bursting through
the thick clouds all round her. She'd be going round to
the park to meet up with him tonight ...

Her stomach felt squirmy with excitement, hungry for
his touch. Sometimes she was ashamed to find how hot
he could get her. Lying in her cramped bedroom at night,
Nina would stare at the damp cracks in the ceiling and
think about Jeff, about his smooth strong chest and the
flat of his stomach with its smattering of wiry hair,
trailing down to his cock, and she'd feel weird, hot and
edgy, and her hand would slip between her legs, rubbing
herself frantically for some release. Somehow it was
better when she was imagining it than when it happened.
In her dreams, Jeff's tongue was gentle over her aching
nipples, his hands would stroke her butt and her back
and tease her the way she teased herself ... Nina's hands
would start to move of their own accord under the
languorous heat of her. body, her mouth slightly open,
panting softly as she thought about Jeff inside her, kissing
her and saying soft things but somehow fucking her
harder and harder all the time, until she'd lose control
and her stomach would contract and expand in an
exquisite, savage flash of white fire ...

Actual lovemaking with Jeff wasn't quite that way and
sometimes Nina thought about it guiltily when she began
to pleasure herself. But it was thinking about Jeff that got
her that way, after all, and she loved him so much, it just
couldn't be wrong.

'He's not interested in you, girl. He's playin' with you,'
her dad grumbled.

'Jeff's in love with me,' Nina said fiercely.

'Oh yeah?' Her father's pudgy face creased in scorn.
'He take you back to meet his folks yet? White trash,
that's what we are. You reckon he thinks any different?
Don't kid yourself.'

'You're wrong!' Nina shouted. She grabbed her coat
from the back of the door.

'Where d'you think you're going, Nina Roth? You got
work to do here!' her mother yelled.

'Sharper than a serpent's tooth it is, to have a thankless
child,' Matthew pronounced.
, 'I'm going to meet Jeff,' Nina told them. She nodded
back at the ragged pile of papers stacked on the couch.

'You should deal with those, Mom. I don't have time.'
The door slammed on its hinges behind her.

Ellen Roth stared at it. 'Little bitch thinks she's too
good for us,' she said bitterly.

"You got that right,' grunted her husband.


A fresh fall wind whipped around Prospect Park, sending
golden leaves dancing across the paths as Nina hurried
towards the Long Meadow. She drew deep breaths,
elated to be out of the claustrophobic apartment. Tantalised
by the thought of seeing Jeff. A pair of joggers huffed
past her and Nina flashed them a beaming smile. No

matter what, when she was with Jeff, life was good.
'Hey!'

She spun round, the wind lifting her coal-black hair,
and saw her boyfriend lounging under an elm tree. She
felt her heart jump. God, he was so gorgeous, all those
muscles huge and hard under his navy sweatsuit, picking
out his cornflower-blue eyes. He was wearing the latest
black Nike runners and a steel Rolex. Nina pulled her

threadbare duffel tight against the chill and told herself
clothes didn't matter.

'Hey,' Jeff repeated, when she caught up to him. He
smiled, his eyes trawling lazily over her wrapped-up
body. 'Where you been?'

'Sorry I'm late. I had some trouble back home,' Nina
apologised. She knew he hated to be kept waiting. 'I got
out as soon as I could.'

'No problem,' Jeff said graciously. He turned and
started walking west out of the park, heading for the
cheap hotel on Eighth Street they always used. Nina used
to think that was so cool of him, the way he'd casually
spring for a whole night although they only took a couple
of hours - 'So we don't need to sneak around at my
place,' he'd explain, kissing the nape of her neck. Often
he'd order up room service, too, and that made her feel
spoiled affd exotic; waited on hand and foot, even if it
was only cheeseburgers and beer. The sex was usually
just OK; she always felt hot and weird when he started,
but after Jeff collapsed across her with that strangled
groan, bathed in sweat and looking drained, she felt ...
unsure. Left out. Maybe the flashes of excitement and
tenseness she felt sometimes were an orgasm. Maybe that
was what they felt like when you weren't doing it to
yourself ... She wasn't sure, and something told her there
was no way she could ask Jeff. It was being alone with
him, being kissed, stroked, told how beautiful she was that was what Nina loved. In bed with Jeff she was
accepted. Desired. That made up for everything else.

But today Nina could still hear her mother's carping
voice. Suddenly the hotel didn't seem so magical ... it
seemed a little cheap, a little seedy.

'Hey, Jeff ?' She caught up with him, putting a hand on

his arm. 'Could we maybe do something else tonight?'
He stopped short, frowning.

'You don't like the Payne? Where d'you want to go?"


z3

'I was thinking maybe we wouldn't go anyu, here.' Nina paused nervously at the shadow that crossed over his face. 'I'd like to go to your house and meet your mom
and dad.'

'Oh yeah? XFhat for?' Jeff demanded, irritated. Nina
Roth looked pretty sharp, despite the cheap clothes and
lack of grooming: her creamy skin, perfect without makeup,
was flushed and glowing from the fresh air; her heavy-lidded eyes glittered like polished slate and her
ebony hair cut down across her cheekbones in a gleaming
cap. But he could imagine the reaction if he took her
home! His mother would go ballistic! She was always
nagging at him to find a 'nice girl', but to the Glazers,
that meant someone like Melissa or Josie ... someone like
themselves. Not a Jewish checkout girl from South Slope,
a scholarship kid with a lush for a mother.

'It's a dumb idea. Te can't just drop in on them like
that.'

'Why not?' Nina asked stubbornly. 'Are you ashamed
of me? That's what my morn said.'

"'She's nuts,' Glazer said warily. He didn't like that
mutinous look she was giving him, though. Nina's body had nearly given him a heart attack once he finally
coaxed her into bed, and there was no way he was letting
her go now. 'Look, we can't go tonight, because, uh,
we're having some people over for dinner. Let me talk to
Morn and you can maybe come for tea, or something.
OK?'

'Sure.' Nina smiled up at him, bursting with happiness.
He does love me, she thought triumphantly. He does,
he does, he does!

Chapter 4


Murmurs rose from the crowd as Elizabeth descended the
stairs, floating on a glorious cloud of pale gold silk. The
apricot satin shoes, topaz earrings and coral necklace
were perfect with her glowing skin and tawny mane.

Monica's first frown of disapproval at Elizabeth's
rejecting the Laura Ashley melted into a warm smile. Her
one aim in life was to get rid of Elizabeth as quickly as
possible. Her husband's discreet nudge pointed out the
young Drake of Fairfax, at the door to the Great Hall,
gasping like a dying trout. The countess heard wedding
bells.

'Happy birthday, darling. I must say you look splendid,'
Tony boomed, moving to grip her elbow firmly as
Elizabeth started shaking hands. He felt taken aback. His
tomboy daughter looked enchantingly feminine. David
Fairfax was interested, and if Love was that blind - well,
Elizabeth might bring something besides trouble to the
family. He thrust her. forward briskly through the
glittering crowd.

'Evening, David. Glad you could make it,' the earl said
genially.

Elizabeth blushed scarlet. How could he be so obvious!
She wanted to pick up her cascading skirts and scamper
away. Anything rather than listen to Father suck up to
David Fairfax while he showed her off like a prize heifer.

'Good of you to ask me, Lord Caerhaven,' Fairfax
replied. His gaze swept approvingly across Elizabeth's
figure-hugging bodice and lingered on the freckled swell'


z5

of her breasts. 'Hullo, 'Lizbeth. Happy birthday. Smashing
dress,' he added with more spirit.

Elizabeth looked at him wearily. David had had a
crush on her for years. He was ordinary looking, with
sandy hair and a strong jaw, graduated from poly with a
spurious degree in estate management. In real life, if you
were David Fairfax, that consisted of hiring a manager to
run your estates. They'd met often at parties and later
hunt balls and Tory fundraisers Dad wouldn't let her
duck. He was OK, but pretty boring, and he was twenty
four, while she was sixteen today. She secretly thought he
was a bit of a perv, chasing after a girl eight years
younger.

Dad had made himself crystal clear. To him, no duke
could ever be boring, but David was a young fogey: he
actually wore tweeds and he listened to Cole Porter
instead of Bowie or T-Rex.

Granny's spirit bubbled up mischievously inside her.

'Hiya, Dave. How's it hangitig?' Elizabeth asked,
grinning.

Her father stiffened, but when Fairfax laughed he just
glared at her and moved off.

Elizabeth chatted briefly to David and then tried to get
away. Her heart sank as she saw Monica swooping down
on her.

'What do you think you're doing? Can't you see the
way David's looking at you?' Monica hissed.

Elizabeth sighed and glanced back to the fireplace.
Mother was right, His Grace was gazing after her with a
particularly annoying sort of moony-calf expression. Like
a spaniel after you refused to give it a bit Of your cheese:
all helpless misery and silent pleading.

'I want to dance with Richard Villiers,' she snapped.

Richard was the bluff son of Dragon's finance director,
a massive Blackburn Rovers fan. She'd rather talk about

z6


football than David Fairfax's gardeners any day of the

week.

'For God's sake, Elizabeth!' Monica spat.

Elizabeth pouted. There was no way out of it, if she
wanted to avoid a scene. She walked back across the
room and watched the moony eyes light up with the
enthusiasm of a border terrier spotting a rabbit.

'Smashing dress, smashing,' David repeated. 'D'you
like a dance?'

She surrendered sullenly to the inevitable, much to the
fury of the gaggle of hopeful debs who'd been hovering in
the duke's vicinity all night.

'Sure, Dave, that'd be cool.'

David hauled her bodily round the draughty hall,
stepping anxiously all over her apricot slippers. Elizabeth
was selfishly furious. Why couldn't the great hulking lout
take dancing lessons? He spent his life attending these
wretched things!

'I say, Bessie - can I call you Bessie?'

'No,' replied Elizabeth coldly.

'You're wasted at school. Really, you know. You're
very pretty. Ever thought about gettin' hitched?'

Elizabeth withdrew as far as the waltz allowed her, but
was caught by David's plump arm squeezing her waist.

'Definitely not. I'm only sixteen, I haven't even been to
college yet.'

The duke looked nervous but tried again. 'What does a
pretty girlie like you want to bother with college for? Bet
your ma and pa wouldn't mind;'

'I wouldn't dream of it,' said Elizabeth sharply.

'Anyway, I've got a boyfriend. Joe Sharp in the village.'
'Sharp? Never heard of him.'

'You wouldn't.' Elizabeth grinned again, picturing Joe,
stained overalls, swearing, muscular, the forbidden taste
of cigarettes in his mouth when she kissed him. 'He's an
attendant at the garage, he goes to St Joseph's school.'


z7

'Ha ha,' Fairfax chuckled, annoyingly, 'don't be ridiculous?

Suddenly he caught her to him as they whirled in time
with the Strauss, thrusting his face into her neck and
kissing it. Revolted, Elizabeth braced herself and shoved
him away.

'What the hell do you think you're doing? Get off me!'
She was a strong girl. Fairfax tripped and fell sprawling,
and there was an agonising crack as his head hit the
flagstone floor.

Around them couples stopped dancing to stare. The
string quartet faltered in its playing for a second because
of the commotion at the centre of the ballroom. It struck
up again as the countess made frantic motions to
continue, but David Fairfax lay crashed out on the
polished marble, groaning in agony. Blood was seeping
out of one cheek.

There was a stunned silence amongst the assembled
guests.


l'.eaning back against the tree trunk, Elizabeth winced at
the memory. Her father's face had set like granite and the
ball had started breaking up as of that moment. Suddenly
all the tycoons remembered important breakfast meetings
and the socialites developed headaches, as the guests
made polite excuses to their hosts and scurried away.
David, helped to his feet by the onlookers, gave Elizabeth
an embarrassed nod and hobbled towards the door. It
had taken barely half an hour for the piles of fur coats
and cashmere shawls to disappear from the cloakroom,
and once the last guest had hastened outside the earl sent
his daughter to her room, the quiet menace in his voice
worse than any shouting fit.

Neither last night nor this morning had Tony wanted
to hear her explanation. As far as her parents were
concerned she was simply a disgrace.

z8


Elizabeth sat under the mossy trunk of an apple tree,
biting into the crisp, smoky flesh of a windfall. She loved
it out in the orchard: the dry-stone walls covered with
bindweed and ivy, the warm scent of mown grass, the
tiny white moths that fluttered around her like scraps of
lace. They kept pear, apple and plum trees, and if you
didn't mind the wasps that gathered greedily around all
the ripe fruit, the orchards were a glorious place to get
lost in. Elizabeth discovered them as a child, to her
parents' dismay. She liked nothing better than shinning
up the ancient, gnarly trunks, finding a nook to sit in, and
hiding there all afternoon, while the stable-hands combed
the grounds calling for her.

Maybe that was the start of my rebel streak, she
thought ruefully. It had been so exciting, clambering up a
tangle of branches and leaves like a squirrel. If she got
high enough, she could see over the orchard walls, to the
red-roofed stables and the manicured green of the
croquet lawn, and even past the bounds of the estate, to
the cliff-tops and the silver glitter of the sea. She would
trek back up to the castle around teatime, with grazed
knees and torn stockings, leaving mud and leaves all over
the kitchen flagstones, and be marched off to bed without
supper.

Elizabeth smiled. Sixteen years old, and she was still in
trouble.

Even the servants had been giving her stern looks at
breakfast. Mother had been reduced to taking a tray of
coffee and dry toast in her bedroom, while Daddy and
that little prig Richard had glowered heir way through
the kippers and marmalade without so much as a 'Good
morning'.

My God, if he wasn't already leaving everything to the
boys, he'd disinherit me, Elizabeth thought, then hugged
herself. Granny had put a stop to that. She needn't be
afraid of Dad any more.


z9

Even so, she had saddled up one of the bay mares as
soon as breakfast was over and taken her out for a gallop
across the cliff tops. It was good to be out of his way; the
turrets and battlements rearing behind her seemed
gloomy and menacing in the chill morning light. She'd
never known Tony so furious. It was dawning on her that
he had been serious about her marrying David. He was
outraged that she'd blown her chances of becoming a
duchess ...

'Lizzie!' called a reedy voice.

'Right here, Richard,' Elizabeth said, throwing her
apple core into some bracken. Her brother came clumping
through the trees, looking annoyed.

'Where on earth have you been? You'd better get
yourself inside, sharpish. Father wants to see you in the
library, right away.'

She got up, ignoring the gloating tone to Richard's
voice. What an unpleasant little brat he was, he loved to
see her in trouble.

She tried to ignore the nagging voice inside her that
told her she'd behaved like a spoilt brat herself last night.
Poor clumsy David, he hadn't meant any harm.

But no! Elizabeth thought sulkily. Why should I have
to put up with him on my birthday!

When they reached the dark-panelled hall Richard
turned pointedly away towards her stepmother's morning
room, leaving Elizabeth standing in front of the
library door by herself. She looked at the brass studs in
the old oak door and drew herself up bravely. Father's
bullying needs standing up to, Elizabeth told herself. She
smoothed down her long mane of hair and knocked
sharply.

'Come in,' the earl snapped.

Elizabeth pushed the thick door hard and it swung
open, creaking on its hinges. The library was a large
room, tapestries and antique swords mounted .between


3�

rows of dusty, leatherbound books. A mahogany grand
piano stood to one side. Behind it, his back to her, her
father was sitting in front of his writing desk, a sheaf of
papers laid out neatly on the green baize.

'Elizabeth,' he said icily without turning round, 'your behaviour last night was unforgivable. You disgraced
yourself in front of all our friends. You made a public
exhibition of yourself. Your stepmother was so ashamed
she has made herself ill.'

'David Fairfax kissed me. What was I supposed to do?
He was slobbering down the front of my dress--'

'Elizabeth!' Her father spun round on his seat, glaring
at her. 'Not another word, do you hear me? Stop lying!'

'But I'm not lying!' Elizabeth protested, feeling the
tears well up despite herself.

The earl.raised a warning hand, his expression dark.
'For the sake of sheer impudence and disobedience to us

you chose to assault one of your own guests.'

'That's not true!'

'Why in the name of God a decent young man like that
should have been interested in you, Elizabeth, is quite
beyond me, but you could not even accept a small
romantic gesture--'

'There's nothing romantic about being pawed by that
baboon!' Elizabeth cried angrily. 'You and Monica just
want to marry me to a duke! You're nothing but a pair of
snobs!'

Father gazed at her impassively.-Then he reached down
to his desk and picked up a piece of paper.

'This is a letter of registration, enrolling you at the
Ecole Henri Dufor.'

'The Ecole Henri Dufor?' Elizabeth repeated blankly.
'In Saas-Fe.'

'You're sending me to Switzerland?'

Her father nodded coldly. 'Since you cannot seem to

3][


behave yourself here, I am sending you to your stepmother's
finishing school to learn some manners.'

Elizabeth stared at him in disbelief. 'To learn flower
arranging and deportment? This is the seventies, Daddy.
Nobody does that any more. What about my A-levels?'

'You can take the Baccalaureate, for all I care.' He laid
the letter purposefully in front of him. 'You have gone
too far, young lady. I tell you that I will not permit you to
make a mockery of this family.'

She thrust her hands deep inside her jodhpurs. 'I won't

go.'

'You'll go. Or I will cut you off without a penny.'
'I'll borrow money from the bank.'

'Indeed. Do you imagine that banks take charity cases?
Against what would you borrow money? Your pony,
perhaps?'

Her father's expression frightened her, but Elizabeth
stubbornly shook her head. 'You know perfectly well.
Granny told you about her will the day she died. She left
ne fifteen per cent of the company.'

There was a silence, broken only by the crackle of the
pine logs blazing in the fireplace.

'Your grandmother left me her entire estate,' Tony
Savage said.

'No.' Elizabeth paled. 'Granny wouldn't lie to me.'
Her father picked up a tiny brass key from the green
baize, reached under the desk and unlocked a small side
drawer. Elizabeth felt her heart thumping as he drew out
a thin sheaf of vellum, yellowed somewhat with age.

'This is Mamma's will, Elizabeth. If you doubt my
word, you are at liberty to read it yourself.'

'She was making a new one,' Elizabeth said.

'She did not make a new one. She did not leave you any
stock.' The earl glanced down at the parchment. 'I seem
to remember there is a small jewellery bequest t.o you in

here, but you won't inherit that until your twenty-first
birthday. A bank wouldn't think much of it.'

Elizabeth stood there trembling with shock. The
bequest had been her protection; she had counted on it.

'Phone her solicitors, if you like,' her father told her
coolly, indicating the telephone that stood next to her on
a card-table. 'They will confirm it.'

Fighting to stay calm, Elizabeth shook her head. Father
wouldn't make that offer if he was bluffing, but Granny
had given her a solemn promise just a few days ago.

'She can't have got round to changing it, then,'
Elizabeth managed, 'but you know she intended to,
Daddy. That was what she told you when you went
upstairs to see her. She wanted me to have her stake in
Dragon. You have to respect her last wishes!'

'Mother told me no such thing.' The earl's tone was
flat. 'I confess I am sorry that you choose such a subject
for more lies.'

'I'm not lying,' Elizabeth gasped. 'You know how
much I loved Granny!'

'Did you? It sounds to me as though you were trying to
influence a frail old woman for your own benefit. You
have been a thoroughly selfish girl for far too long.' Her
father leaned forward, his sallow face set hard. 'For your
information, Mamma and I were discussing your brother's
trust fund. The world, does not revolve around you,
whatever you may believe. And I notice you never
mentioned this so-called bequest until this moment.'
He snorted with contempt. 'You fool only yourself,
Elizabeth.'

Panic and doubt washed over her in a wave as she
looked at her father's cold, certain face. Did he really
think she would lie about Granny? Was it possible that
Granny had planned on telling her father later? And
never had the chance?

The earl was holding the vellum will firmly. Elizabeth

33


realised, with a terrible sense of desertion, that she had
lost. She wasn't a major stockholder in Dragon. She had
no chance of a marketing job, no right to a seat on the
board. She was just a rebellious teenager whose parents
were determined to crush her.

For one wild moment Elizabeth thought about running
away, but where would she go? Cardiff? London? With
what money, and to do what? She was only a schoolgirl,
and she'd lived in luxury all her life. She knew she'd last
about ten seconds on the streets.

'You will go to Switzerland, one way or the other,' the
earl snapped, as though reading her mind. 'If you behave
sensibly, we will continue your allowance at the Ecole. If,
on the other hand, you decide to cause your stepmother
or me any more distress, you will receive not one
centime. Which is it to be?'

At least she would get away from him.

'I'll go to Switzerland,' said Elizabeth.

Chapter


'Would you like some ham, Nina?' Mrs Glazer asked.

Nina shifted uncomfortably on her seat, unsure if she
was being deliberately insulted. Jeff had mentioned that
she was Jewish at the start of tea, and an extra chill had
settled over the already icy table.

'No, thank you,' she replied quietly, taking a sip of her
tea. The cup was made of bone china and rimmed with
gold leaf. The cutlery was silver plate, the table made
from some'dark wood that looked very expensive, and
the Glazers' carpets were so thick her shoes sank into
them as she walked. They lived in a redbrick townhouse
on Willow Street in the Heights; the neighbourhood was
rich, the streets leafy and clean. Mrs Glazer answered the
door in a smart red woollen suit, with gold earrings and
Italian leather shoes.

Nina smoothed down her own cheap black dress.
Nothing could quiet the bolting nerves in her stomach.
She'd known Jeff was rich, but it was still a shock. They
might both reside in Brooklyn, but he lived in another
world.

Clearly his mom thought so too. Her thin, polite smile
never reached her eyes.

'It's a beautiful neighbourhood,' Nina said, trying hard
to make conversation. Jeff was no help; he'd spent the
meal with his head lowered, pushing blueberry pancakes
round his plate.

'Isn't it?' Mrs Glazer answered coolly. 'Henry Ward
Beecher used to live right opposite us.'


35

'Is that so?'

'Nina, tell me again about your parents,' Ken Glazer
said. Ken was looking uncomfortable in weekend clothes.
She'd asked around and found that Mr Glazer had a job
with IBM, supplying mainframe computers. The computer
industry was in its infancy, but growing every year.
Most people thought of the huge machines as a science
fiction fad, but Nina was certain they had a big future.
Maybe every company would need a computer of its own
one day ...

At any rate, computers had been good to the Glazers.
She'd have liked to discuss it with Jeff's father, but every
time she looked over at him his eyes were glued to the
large swell of her breasts. Maybe that explained Mrs G.'s

obvious dislike. Nina didn't know which was worse.
'Jeff tells me they have their own business.'

'Well, uh, not exactly.' Nina coloured. 'My mom runs
a store.'

'Oh?' Mrs Glazer took a tiny bite at a chocolate wafer.
'What kind of goods does it sell? Clothes, cosmetics ... ?'
'It's just a deli,' Nina admitted.

Jeff's mother gave a tinkling laugh. 'How refreshing.
And whereabouts is it? I must pop in some time.'

Nina wanted to die. 'I think it would be out of your
way. We're on the south side of Park Slope.'

Mr Glazer frowned disapprovingly at his son.

His wife pursed her lips. 'Yes,' she said after a
moment. 'I'm not down that .way very often.'

I'll bet you're not, Nina thought miserably. She gave
Jeff a pleading look but he reached for another scone,
refusing to meet her eyes.


It was another dreadful hour before Jeff lumbered to his
feet, muttering something about football practice, and
they were able to escape. Nina thanked her hostess for
the tea in as dignified a manner as she could, and took


36

her time about putting on her coat, as though it were a
silver fox instead of her threadbare duffel. She felt Mr
Glazer's eyes roaming hungrily over her body the whole
time, but she tried not to show it. As Jeff's girlfriend, she
knew she had to win his parents over. That awful woman
would be her mother-in-law eventually.

As she descended the Glazers' scrubbed stone steps,
Nina turned round and gave the townhouse a long, cool
look. Some day, I'll be richer than you are, she thought.
I'll own a bigger house, wear better clothes and have the
kind of success you've never even dreamed of. I swear it.

Her small fist clenched under her cheap coat. I swear
it.

'God, aren't families the worst?' Jeff said lazily.
Outside the house, his confident swagger reappeared.
'That was lame. Come on, baby, let's go and make love.'

He adrnred the way Nina's glossy hair caught the light
as they walked off down the street. Damn, she was a hot
babe. He got turned on just thinking about peeling those
heavy clothes off that dynamite body. It was worth all
the shit he was going to get tonight.

Beside him, Nina dropped her eyes so Jeff wouldn't
catch the contempt glinting in them. Ordinarily, she'd
have laid into him for letting her down like that, but not
tonight. They had more important things to talk about.
She had a sneaking suspicion she was pregnant.


'What do you mean?' Jeff asked her half an hour later.
They were sitting on the bed of the same room they
always used, but for once the coverle remained straight,
the sheets unrumpled. Nina could see their reflection in
the dresser mirror and shrank inwardly at the sight of
Jeff, his athlete's body hunched up in tension and
disbelief. 'You think you're pregnant? You can't be.' He
passed a hand through his gleaming fair hair. 'We've been careful.'


37

It was true that they'd followed all the current teen
wisdom on sex - antiseptic douches and avoiding the
middle of the cycle - but Nina had no money for a doctor
and no access to a birth-control clinic. South Slope was
big on coat-hanger abortions and welfare mothers instead. Jeff had tried condoms before he met her, and
refused to do so again. Douches worked, he promised
her: 'I've been around, baby, even if you haven't.'

'I'm late,' Nina said dully. She hadn't expected him to
jump for joy - at least not right away - but this blind

panic was making her nervous.
'How late?' Jeff demanded.
'Two and a half weeks.'

He shot up from the bed and started pacing the room.
'But it could be stress, right? Girls sometimes skip one for
stress. You had all those college exams last week. It must
have been pressure.'

Nina shook her head. As if! 'I've been under a lot of
stress before, and I've never missed a period.'

Jeff rounded on her, his handsome young face suddenly
aggressive. 'You don't know for sure. And anyway, who
says it's mine?'

'What?' Nina gasped.

'Don't give me that weepy look. Come on, Nina, I'll
bet you've been seeing other guys as well as me. It's been
three months. Nobody's that saintly.'

'You know there's only you!' Nina cried, battling
tears. How could he say that to her? Didn't he love her?
And what did that mean, was he saying he'd been
cheating on her? 'Have you got somebody else?'

Jeff leaned heavily against the window and thrust his
hands into his jeans. He shrugged defensively. 'Sure. I've
seen Melissa Patton a few times.'

Nina's beautiful face went grey with shock. She felt ill.
'See? I knew you'd start gettin' heavy,' Jeff sneered.


38

'Why the hell shouldn't I? We weren't married. I never
said I wanted to go steady. That was your deal.'

Despite herself, Nina felt two huge tears well up and
trickle down her cheeks. She felt like such a fool. 'I
thought you loved me. I thought we'd get married,' she
said bleakly.

Jeff gave a harsh laugh. 'You're kidding. You thought
I'd marry you?' His stare was cruelly indifferent. 'OK,
now I got it. You reckoned I'd fall for this baby crap and
get you a one-way ticket to the good life. Huh?' He
pulled out a cigarette from his jacket pocket and lit up
with shaking fingers. 'Don't pull that with me, sugar. I'm
not getting married at nineteen. And when I do, it won't
be to some white trash.'

Nina couldn't speak. She couldn't take it in. Was this
the same Jeff who had held her close all those nights,
whispered" sweet things in her ears, covered the back of
her neck with downy kisses? Was this the boy she'd spent
hours daydreaming about, the lover she'd killed herself to
get time with?

Just a few hours ago she'd been eating with his parents,
thanking God that Jeff was nothing like them. And he
wasn't. He was worse. At least his mother hadn't been a
hypocrite as well as a snob.

She'd thought Jeff Glazer was her Prince Charming:
the most popular guy in school, the football hero, big and
brave and daring. Now Nina saw him for what he was,
as he stood scowling by the window: an immature boy, a
coward, a bully, a cheat.

And she had his child growing inside her.

'I shouldn't have said that. We'll work something out.'
Relieved that Nina wasn't arguing, Jeff looked away. All
that white-faced melodrama, he couldn't stand it. It was
kind of a shame, but there was no way he was up for this.
Marry Nina Roth! She must have been out of her mind. It
had been tough enough getting her invited to the house.'


39

Sooner or later, he thought sourly, they all Start
whining.

'I know this guy works out of Sixth Avenue,' Glazer
said, calmer now. 'Dr Fenton. He's sorted out some of
the girls from St Mike's before - he's a real doctor,
qualified, he'll give you anaesthetic and he's clean and
stuff. It's expensive, like five hundred dollars.'

Nina was gazing at him, her face expressionless.
'Hey, I'll spring for it,' Jeff said magnanimously. 'I
know my responsibilities. I'll get the money to you in
school next week.' He paused. 'No hard feelings, Nina,
right?'

Nina stood up slowly and reached for her coat. She let
herself out of the hotel bedroom without looking round
and quietly closed the door behind her.


The journey home through the park had never taken so
long. The bluster of the early afternoon had given way to
a glorious sunset of rose and gold, but Nina was blind to
the beauty of the day. Nobody watching the tall young
glrl striding home, her black hair tousled and ivory
complexion flushed pink from the fresh air, could have
been aware of the dark thoughts racing through her. As
she walked slowly home, grief gave way to furious anger,
and by the time she reached Third Avenue she had started
to form a plan.


'Can I see you for a moment, sir?'

Peter David turned round in the corridor to see young
Nina Roth standing patiently behind him, a heavy sports
bag slung over one shoulder. Not for the first time, he
thought what an attractive kid she was. Her hair was
swinging around her face in a shining bob, and she smelt
of some delicate perfume. School uniform looked disturbing
on that voluptuous body. He could feel the gaze of
the boys linger on her as they streamed past. Only some


4o

heavy, dark circles under her eyes marred her beauty. He
supposed a girl like Nina would be out late with some
lucky boyfriend. And why not? It was the last few days of
the semester. If any kid deserved a little partying, it was
Nina Roth.

'Of course, Nina.' Mr David opened his office door.
'Come in.'

'How long will it be before my college results are
back?' Nina asked him directly.

'About a month, but you don't need to worry, Nina.
I'm sure you'll be offered a scholarship - probably
several. Since we last talked, your work has improved
one hundred per cent.' His smile was reassuring.

'What if I wanted to put off college for a year?'

'Delay a year?' Her tutor was shocked. 'You can't do

that. We've made the applications. You enrol in the fall.'
'And "qaat if I couldn't?'

Mr David leaned forward, his kindly face concerned.
'Is there some problem, Nina? Is it something I can help
with?'

She gave him a small smile. 'Not really, sir. I just need
to know.'

'Ah, let me see ... I don't think that's a good idea.
Competition for assisted places is so fierce. I think you'd
lose your chance. Better to reapply the following year,' he
said, pushing his wire glasses back up the bridge of his
nose, 'but even that might be a problem. Take your place
up this year, young lady.' He attempted to look stern.
'Time enough for a year's fun. after you've taken that
degree.'

Nina nodded and rose. Thank you, Mr David.' She
clasped his hand and shook it briskly. 'Thank you for
everything.'

The teacher watched her go and wondered why he felt
so uneasy.


41

Nina went to her locker and opened it. The space behind
the grille was empty; twice Jeff Glazer had stuffed an
envelope full of bank-notes in there, and twice she had
returned it. Perhaps he'd finally gotten the message. She
pulled out her running shoes and one file of math notes,
unzipped her sports bag and packed them inside. The rest
of the space was full of the clothes she had taken from
her bedroom this morning - two pairs of jeans, her boots,
underwear, a few shirts and sweaters and her one good
skirt. Her toothbrush, soap and flannel were packed in a
side pocket from which she now removed a sealed
envelope, addressed to Sister Ignatius, the principal. A
similar note was tucked under her pillow at home, for her
parents to find when they bothered to make the bed. She

' didn't expect them to show any concern for at least a day
or so, which would give her ample time to do everything
she needed to. Without rushing, Nina stacked her
textbooks neatly inside her locker. Then she carried her
tote bag into the girls' restroom, shut herself in a cubicle
and changed into her skirt, a neat blouse, dark hose and a
lair of flats. She emerged with her uniform folded in a
neat pile, laid it on top of the textbooks and closed her
locker door.

The bell rang for second period. Nina ignored the
strange looks her classmates gave her as they hurried off
to geography. She turned left at the end of the corridor
and walked straight through the double doors, down the
marble steps and out of the gates.

The bag was heavy but Nina marched down the street
like she hardly noticed it. Yesterday afternoon she had
gone to see Jo Kepler, her supervisor at Duane Reed, and
explained that Mom had been taken ill. She was going to
have to quit her job right away. She was terribly sorry for
the inconvenience, but could Ms Kepler give her a
reference she could use in the future?

'Sure, of course. I hate to lose you, Nina, but of course


4z

I understand,' Ms Kepler said, shaking her head. She was
really sorry to see Nina go; the girl had been one of the
brightest assistants in the store, suggesting products to
customers and helping them out instead of merely ringing
up the purchases. She had awarded her two pay rises in
two months and had been planning to offer her a place
on the trainee management course next year. 'I'll give you
an excellent reference, and maybe we'll see you back here
when your mother gets better.'

'Thank you, ma'am. Would it be a lot of trouble if I
asked you to write it out now? I don't know when I'll be
able to look in again.'

'No trouble at all.' Ms Kepler-stepped into the back
office, slotted a headed sheet of paper in her typewriter
and dashed off a reference, couched in the most glowing
terms. She signed it, slotted it in an envelope and handed
it to Nina'. 'There you go, honey. Now you take good
care of yourself.'

'Don't worry, I will,' Nina promised her gravely.
The letter was tucked safely inside the outer pocket of
her purse, and now there was only one task left. Nina
turned right down a side street and headed for the nearest
branch of Wells Fargo. There was an empty teller

window and she went straight up to the smiling clerk.
'Good morning, miss. May I help you?'

'Yes,' Nina said. 'I'd like to close my account.'

The smile was replaced by a frown, but five minutes
later Nina was back out on the sidewalk with a brown
envelope in her hand. It contained $6z7; all she had in
the world.

43


Chapter 6


'Six thirty! Six thirty, mesdemoiselles.'

Elizabeth could hear the maid coming along the
dormitory corridor, tapping on doors to wake up the
young ladies. There was nothing so vulgar as an electric
bell at the Henri Dufor, but if you were more than ten
minutes late to the dining room, you'd miss breakfast.

'Six thirty, my lady,' the maid announced, opening
Elizabeth's door a fraction.

"Merci, Claudette,' Elizabeth said, quickly swinging her

bare feet out from under the eiderdown duvet before its
cosy warmth could tempt her back to sleep. The beds
were heavy, old-fashioned things carved from solid oak,
��ith pretty Alpine flowers painted on the headboards,
made up freshly each morning with crisp linen sheets.
Elizabeth loved her bed and collapsed into it at night
without a second thought. Yet it wasn't difficult to get up

in the mornings, she had so much to look forward to.
'There's been a new snowfall.'

Penny Foster, her room-mate and the only daughter of

a property tycoon, was standing at the window looking
up at the Alps. Saas-Fe was ringed with a massive
horseshoe of mountains, great stretches of shadows and
brilliant white velvet bisecting each other. Green pastures
full of tiny flowers lay at their feet in the summer, and the
chalet school was perched low down on one of these, east
of the main village. Elizabeth padded across the polished
wooden floor and craned her neck past the apple-green
shutters. Penny was right: even in the dark of early


4,1

morning she could see a fresh blanket of white covering
the upper meadows.

'Terrific!' she grinned. 'More skiing. I can do a run
straight back to the village.'

'Is that all you ever think about?' Penny sniffed,
pushing a lock of red-gold hair out of her eyes. Where
Elizabeth had a strong, athletic body, Penny was slim and
constantly worrying about her weight. She had a pair of
the latest electric scales by her bed and weighed herself
morning and night. She'd been taught to ski by the school
instructors but preferred the ballroom dancing classes, as
exercise made her even hungrier. Elizabeth thought
Penny was neurotic. Penny resented Elizabeth's energy
and the way she ate mountains of food without ever
getting plump, but she was also in awe of her roommate's
daring. Elizabeth Savage had a wild reputation, in
school and the village as well; a natural on the slopes,
within months she was taking on the local hotshots,
Swiss boys who had started skiing when they started
walking. Elizabeth ski'd with ferocious passion, ignoring
all the school rules about forbidden areas. Saas-Fe had
practically year-round snow, and even after the tourists
departed, admiring locals noticed Elizabeth's graceful
young body in its snug lilac suit twist sharply down a
mogul field or bomb down a black run, crouching into
the trajectory like a brightly coloured bullet. Penny heard
the other girls gossiping about Elizabeth's nickname in
the village, 'Coup de Foudre', the thunderbolt. She was
sure it was no accident that the phrase also meant 'love at
first sight'.

Six months of Switzerland had changed Elizabeth
dramatically. Her curves had become high and tight, her
legs powerful. Her glossy hair had grown longer and
thicker and the mountain sun had highlighted it with rich
streaks of gold, the colour of warm honey. Away from
Tony's constant disapproval, the sullen rebellion had'


45

disappeared. There was a fresh flush to her complexion
and a dancing light in her green eyes. Elizabeth would
never be model-thin like Penny, but she didn't seem to
care. She practically glowed with health, and looking at
her standing there in her white cotton nightgown,
breathing in the cold morning air, Penny felt another stab
of envy.

'Come on, we've only got twenty minutes,' Penny said,
and the two of them scrambled into the school uniform:
ivory shirt, fitted navy blazer and skirt and knee-high
black socks and shoes. Elizabeth caught her hair back in
a ponytail, Penny spritzed herself with Miss Dior, and
they rushed out into the corridor to join the other girls.
The dining room was laid out with long tables and ' hand-carved, high-backed chairs, its windows looking
out towards the pastureland and the dark, scented pine
forests beneath. Herds of belled cattle were already
grazing, .and below them the girls could see the lights of
Saas Grund. After the first week, though, nobody paid
attention to the view, as all the young ladies were
c)nstantly gossiping about boyfriends or rock stars.
Penny's wardrobe door was covered with pictures of T
Rex and The Who; it was another weird thing about
Elizabeth that she seemed totally unmoved by pin-ups,
and had her wardrobe tacked up with ads - a pregnant
man encouraging men to think about condoms, 'Go to
Work on an Egg', 'Guinness Is Good for You'.

Elizabeth rushed towards the buffet and loaded her
plate: newly baked bread, warm croissants, a bowl of
steaming hot chocolate and some fresh apricots. Penny
took a small helping of cornflakes and a cup of black
coffee and they sat down.

'Hey, Elizabeth, something to interest you,' Vanessa
Chadwick announced. Vanessa was a shipping heiress, a
willowy blonde and a prefect, who obeyed school rules
and found the Savage girl rather shocking.

46


Elizabeth grunted. 'I doubt that.'

Mornings at the Ecole Henri Dufor were spent practising
music, dancing or deportment and then attending
'lectures'. These were supposed to broaden the mind but
normally sent Elizabeth to sleep; Mademoiselle Char
main, the French mistress, would blather on about Marie
Antoinette, or Herr Flagen, the history tutor, would
drone on about the Confederation in his dense Schweizerdeutsch accent. Occasionally they were treated to outside
guests with links to the school. These ranged from the
Mayor of Zermatt to some pupil's filmstar mother. The
girls still talked about the visit Yves Saint Laurent had
once made.

Vanessa sighed at this sad lack of school spirit. 'His
name is Herr Hans Wolf. He helped organise the Winter
Olympics here last year.'

'Not Hans Wolf the skier?'

Vanessa flicked back her shiny blonde hair and
consulted her lecture notes. 'He coached the Swiss ski
team, if that's what you mean.'

'Yes, but he was a skier long before that.' Elizabeth
tore off a piece of croissant and dipped it in her
chocolate, eyes sparkling. 'Back in the twenties, when
people used wooden skis they tied on to their boots.'

'That don't sound too safe,' remarked Chantal Miller,
an American banker's daughter.

'It wasn't. It was incredibly dangerous. Hans Wolf set

five downhill records that way during his career.'
'I'll never hear the end of this,' Penny sighed.
'How long is he staying?'
'Just to give the lecture.'

The others started chatting about the Robert Redford
film showing down in the village, but Elizabeth ate her
breakfast silently. Her head was miles away in a world
without safety nets, padding or crevasse warnings,


47

imagining a young Hans Wolf tearing down a mountainside
on a pair of shaped planks, lashed to his feet with
hempen rope. She found she was almost blushing with
excitement. Perhaps she could talk to him after the
lecture, ask him what it had been like. Maybe he would
let her watch the Swiss team train ...

After breakfast the girls cleared away their plates and
trooped into the music room for piano practice. Elizabeth
was dreadful as usual but smiled engagingly at Madame
Lyon; she wanted some new ski-boots and that meant
Dad had to receive good reports. She plunked awkwardly
at the keys, one eye on her watch, longing for nine
o'clock. As soon as they were dismissed - all the girls
bobbing a curtsy to the old lady - Elizabeth rushed down
' the corridor to the lecture hall to bag herself the best seat.
The room filled slowly with laconic, overprivileged
teenagers, and Herr Geller, the headmaster, peered in to
check that his flock was settled. He noticed Penny Foster
and Elizabeth Savage sitting centre front and raised an
eyebrow; most unlike Lady Elizabeth to take an active
illterest in anything.

Still, he was pleased to see it. It had been a great coup
for the Ecole to land the daughter of Lord Caerhaven -
titles always looked good in the pupil register - and in
many ways, her ladyship had proved ideal. The earl had
written him a frank letter before Elizabeth was admitted,
explaining that she was a wilful girl and likely to cause
trouble; on no account was she to be given business
education, maths lessons or allowed to have marketing
journals delivered. He wanted a young lady and not a
tomboy to return from the Alps. Geller had called
Elizabeth to him when she arrived and explained her
father's prohibitions, expecting a storm; instead, all he
got was a nod and a shrug of the shoulders.

Elizabeth had resigned herself to the inevitable. She
knew the dream would have to be postponed. She. wasn't

48


going to work in Dragon, and if she was ever going to
escape her parents' clutches, that meant money. Tony
had it and she didn't. For the moment, it was better to
play along, let the family think she'd given in. She should
be studying for her A-levels, but instead she was stuck in
this relic from the past, learning cordon bleu cookery,
flower-arranging and ballroom dancing. Whenever she
heard Penny talk about her brother at Oxford, or
Chantal's at Wharton, or Th6rse Lecoute's cousins at
the Sorbonne, she felt a tight knot of anger in her
stomach; no university for her - Dad only wanted her
qualified for the Mrs degree. Enthusiasm was asking too
much, but Elizabeth dutifully stuck roses in jars and
waltzed to the 'Blue Danube'. At the end of her first term
her report said, 'Modest and well behaved,' and gave her
average marks for everything.

Tony Zloubled her allowance.

Besides, Elizabeth was enjoying herself. She thought
she would loathe Switzerland, but within a week she was
in love - the soaring, white-capped mountains, green
Alpine slopes covered with Eidelweiss and grazing cattle,
the belled goats and clear mountain air. She adored Swiss
food, thick black bread and Kaise, cuttlefish soups,
fondues and Kirschtorte, or cherry tart. There was spicy Gliihwein and perfect chocolate, and the village of Saas
F6e was enchanting, with its narrow, winding cobbled
streets and gabled shops.

Elizabeth made friends easily despite her reckless
streak; some girls disapproved violently, but others
secretly admired her. Elizabeth tried hard to sort out the
real friends from the crowd of nouveaux riches who
sucked up in the hope of an introduction to her brothers.
She never trusted Vanessa since the morning she caught
her doodling 'Lady Holwyn' all over her art history file.

Good behaviour and a large allowance meant she was
allowed to join the termly school trip to Zurich. Penriy


49

and Chantal dived into the expensive hotel shops packed
with Herm/s scarves and Louis Vuitton luggage, but
Elizabeth liked to stare at the towering banks, with their
mirrored walls and discreet brass plaques. Businessmen
in dark suits and Cutler & Gross sunglasses strode past
and the news stands were full of financial journals in
every conceivable language. Zurich had none of the
commercial buzz of London or New York, but its sober
atmosphere was impressive. Elizabeth felt she was
breathing money. Finance, secrecy and power practically
bled from the paving-stones. She would sit in a roadside
car6, sipping a glass of schnapps, and think slowly about
what she was going to do about Dragon. That company
was her birthright, and she wouldn't let it go.

She turned the problem over and over in her mind - in
class, in her bedroom, in the village. One day, Elizabeth
promised herself. One day.

Meanwhile, she toed the line. It was easy enough to
turn up for classes, and it was necessary. Then she had
her first skiing lesson, and her life was transformed.

'Alone on the black runs from Felskinn and Langfliih,
slicing down the glittering, pearl-white tracks, her blood
racing, she felt more alive than she had ever believed
possible. Elizabeth had two years of finishing school and
from now on she looked forward to every second.

She heard the other girls rise to their feet in a rustle of
lambswool and cotton as Herr Geller and his guest
entered the room. Hans Wolf marched rapidly up to the
lectern amidst the polite applause, with the air of a man
who wants to get something over quickly. His long stride
and erect back were in strange contrast to his wiry white
hair and the deep wrinkles scoring his face. Elizabeth
knew he was seventy-six, but he looked fiftyl That's what
a lifetime on the slopes will do for you, she thought,
thrilled.

Sighing, Hans Wolf regarded his bored, b.eautiful


50

audience for a second. Then he reached into his jacket
pocket, fished out some crumpled notes and a pair of
wire-rimmed spectacles, slid them up his nose and started
to read. What a waste of a morning. He resented having
to do this; the young prodigy, Franz Klammer, was
racing down the Lauberhorn right now and Wolf had
hoped to be there, checking him out. But a banker from
Geneva with a daughter at the school had asked him for
this favour, and since the banker made a breathtakingly
large contribution to Swiss athletics last year, Wolf
reluctantly agreed. Money, after all, was sacred.

He rattled on in a dry monotone about the Olympic
ideal and the healing powers of sport, occasionally
glancing up at the bored faces in front of him. Most of
them were examining their manicures, or staring at him
with glazed eyes, except for one girl in the centre front.
She was "a pretty, healthy-looking child with bright green
eyes and a dusting of freckles around the nose. Wolf
galloped through his clichts at a rate of knots. He paused
for breath and noticed the same girl looking at him as if
spellbound, leaning forward on the edge of her seat.
Disconcerted, the old man gave her a brief smile, lost his
place, found it again and ploughed on to the end. Then he
sat down, mopping his brow, and wondered how soon he
could get out of here without being rude.

Herr Geller was on his feet. "I'm sure we're all most
grateful to Herr Wolf for that fascinating talk.' Dutiful
applause. 'Now, mesdemoiselles, do you have any questions
for our distinguished guest?'

The prefects duly raised their hands with prepared
questions about sporting behaviour and it being the
taking part that counted. Wolf answered them in an
equally pat manner and waited for the attractive blonde
to speak. He was slightly disappointed that she did not.
After a few minutes Geller thanked him to a fresh round
of applause and dismissed the school.


5x

'Many thanks, Herr Wolf. I'm sure that was very
instructive for our young ladies,' Geller was saying.

Wolf picked up his notes and thrust them back into his
jacket. 'My pleasure, Herr Geller.'

'I hope I can persuade you to stay for lunch. The
school maintains an excellent cook ...' Geller began
obsequiously.

Wolf suppressed a shiver of dislike and was starting to
decline when he felt a small tug on his sleeve.

'And what do you want, young lady?' Herr Geller
snapped, annoyed at being interrupted.

'I'd like to ask Herr Wolf a question,' Elizabeth said
nervously.

Wolf turned to see the girl from the front row. Close
'up, she was even prettier and she had a lean, fit figure.

'You had a chance during the talk, Lady Elizabeth.'

Herr Geller was never too sharp with an carl's daughter.
'Well yes, sir, I know, but this isn't about the talk.'
'Don't worry, Herr Geller, I'm happy to answer the
young lady's questions.' Wolf was interested despite
hitnself. 'Go ahead.'

'Well, Herr Wolf,' Elizabeth said nervously, ignoring
the annoyance on the headmaster's face, 'I was just
wondering what it was like to break the record on the
Hahnenkamm?'

'What?' Wolf stuttered, taken aback.

'In nineteen twenty-five,' the young girl added helpfully.


']a, I remember when it was,' Hans Wolf replied. He
took a closer look at the pretty eyes and saw the pale ring
of goggle-marks. 'It was terrifying. Wonderful. You are
interested in skiing?' How many of his own. countrymen
knew he'd broken that record? It was half a century ago

now.

Elizabeth nodded eagerly and Herr Geller, wanting to
impress a member of the Olympic committee, .added,

'Lady Elizabeth is a very good skier, I believe, Herr Wolf.
Our own instructors taught her. The Ecole has an
excellent record into'

Wolf caught the scornful glint in Elizabeth's eye and
was suddenly vastly amused. Maybe he could take the
young Friiulein out for lunch at a mountain caf& Good
sausage, black bread, soup. A glass of Ptlaumen. No
doubt she would enjoy the chance to get out of this
ridiculous establishment for a while, and it would be fun
to tell war stories from his youth. The Hahnenkamm in
9z5! A lifetime ago.

'So I hear, Herr Geller. I would very much like to see
for myself, though.' He turned to Elizabeth. 'Young lady,
will you show me what you have learned? We could take
the gondola up to Plattjen.'

'I'd love to, sir.' Elizabeth glanced at Herr Geller. 'Natiilich, go ahead,' he said expansively. 'We have
many skis, suits and boots in the games room, Herr Wolf,
if you would like to join her yourself.'

'I hung up my skis a few years back.' Wolf eyed the

young woman speculatively. 'Are you good?'

'Very good,' Elizabeth said boldly.

Wolf grinned. 'There are some nasty mogul fields up
there. We'll see.'


Hans Wolf leaned over the rail on the restaurant balcony,
wondering if he could believe his eyes. Down the steep,
unforgiving slope opposite him, Elizabeth's strong young
body was flying around the-moguls. The stick was
planted firmly and removed cleanly, She jumped high and
twisted sharply from the waist. Slice, leap, slice. No
mogul seemed too large, no jump too high. The teenager
moved with instinctive grace and skill. The technique was
unpolished, but Gott in Himmel! she was superb.

Ten minutes ago he'd been looking forward to an
encouraging chat and a pleasant lunch. The Engliinderin

aristocrat was very down to earth and warm, openly
admiring of him, obviously passionate about skiing and
funny about her school. He had settled on the restaurant
balcony and told her to have a go at the short, steep
mogul run while he ordered lunch. The first time he
watched her descent Wolf thought he must be imagining
things. He waved at her to do it again, to check it was not
a fluke. And then again.

She was so good, it set his adrenalin flowing just to
watch her. For a second the old man imagined Heidi
Laufen and Louise Levier, their own World Cup hopes
on the Swiss women's team. They wouldn't thank him
for what he was about to do, but he didn't hesitate for a
second.

' He beckoned to a waiter. 'Do you have a payphone in
the back?' he asked. 'I need to make a telephone call.'

'Of course, sir. Let me show you,' the waiter said, and
led him into the bar. Wolf dropped some coins into the
slot and dialled the number from memory.

'British Ski Federation,' replied a female voice.

'This is Hans Wolf calling from Switzerland,' he said.
'Is the director around?'

Chapter 7


Six hundred and twenty-seven dollars didn't get you very
far, even in Brooklyn.

'Fifty a week,' the landlord said.

Nina shrugged and looked scornful. She was staring
into a tiny, cramped little room with damp stains on the
walls, a tiny chipped basin and one closet. The communal

bathroom was down the hall.

'Thirty-five,' she said.

He lat[ghed sourly. 'C'mon, sugar, we charge fifteen
bucks a night.'

The Ocean Motel was in the scuzzy Red Hook area
and it blended right in, catering mostly to sailors working
on the docks.

'Yeah, but you won't fill this every night. I'll stay at
least three weeks.'

'Forty, baby, and you're robbing me,' the landlord
said. His eyes flickered hungrily across her large breasts
and small waist. The kid was weird, kind of like a coed
but with street-smarts. She was so serious she freaked
him out. Not a hooker, he could tell that much. Pity,
'cause she could have made the rent in kind, any time.
He'd have offered her a drink, but she had this standoff
vibe around her.

'Thirty-five.' Nina locked into his eyes and killed the
fire there with an icy stare. 'It's all I got. It's not enough,
I'll need to go somewhere else.'

The guy frowned. He smelled of sweat and cigarette
and Nina wanted him out of her room.

'OK. But two weeks in advance.'

She fished in her pocket, peeled off the bills from her
small roll. He left. She sat down on her small bunk and
put her head in her hands.

Nina wondered what her parents were doing now.
Calling the police? Did they miss her? They had to miss
what she could do. But even so, Red Hook was a no-go
area, nobody knew her here. The cops wouldn't find her.

She felt surprisingly calm. She'd been self-reliant for a
long time; the only thing different now was the circumstances.
Looking back on it, Jeff Glazer had been such a
stupid mistake for a clever girl. What was he? Just a
good-looking jock who'd used her and then run for
over. She'd trusted him, and look where it got her.
Yeah, whatever. She wouldn't make the same mistake
again.

Nina got up from the bed and went to the grimy
window. Outside was an alley; beyond that, the bustle
and noise of dirty, dodgy Brooklyn. She had $557 and
the. clothes she stood up in.

Tomorrow she would go get a job. It was time to get
out of here.


Nina didn't find a job the next day, nor the day after. She
spent two anxious weeks trudging down Flatbush Avenue
and around the Civic Centre, terrified her money
would run out before she found work. Even her reference
was no help.

Brooklyn was sunk in the late seventies recession.
Nobody was hiring: the drugstores were full, the banks
had enough tellers, even the delis didn't need a clerk. She
was desperate when she had her first stroke of luck. A
boy named Leon was standing in front of her in a
checkout queue, bitching about the health food store that
had just fired him.

Green Earth was a small Mom-and-Pop joint, a hippy56


looking place. Fading paint peeled from its storefront and
dusty windows, displaying an assortment of candles,
vitamins and joss sticks. Not promising, but her heart
beat a bit faster. Surely this place would need someone

new.

A bell jangled as she pushed the door open.

'Hi, can I help you?'

The storekeeper was grey haired, maybe sixty. He was
sitting behind the counter, hunched over a stack of loose
receipts.

'I hope so,' Nina said politely. 'I heard you fired Leon.
I'd like to apply for the job.'

The proprietor shook his head. 'I'm not replacing him.
Third kid I tried in a month. All they do is sit around
chewing gum and talking back to the customers.'

'I'm not like that, really. I've got experience and a
reference' Nina persisted.

'Sorry, honey. Try somewhere else.' Nina swallowed
her bitter disappointment and was about to leave when
he added, 'What I need is an accountant. Or a magician.'
He patted the forms in front of him with a good-natured
sigh.

'What are they, your records?' Nina asked.

'Uh-hnh.' The old guy shook his head again. 'Never
keep a store, kid. You'll go blind before your time.'

'I can organise those for you,' she said, walking
towards the counter and ignoring his disbelieving expression.
'Really. My folks kept a seven-eleven. I used to '
she nearly said 'do the', but change.d it to '- help with
reordering and stocktaking.'

'Yeah? You good at math?' he asked, a slight interest
creeping into his tone.

'Top of the class. Look, why don't you let me sit with
you and sort those receipts? If you think you can use me,
give me a month's trial. If not, I'll stop bothering you:'
She fought to keep the anxiety out of her voice.


57

He paused for a second, then nodded. 'I guess it
couldn't hurt.'

'I'm Nina Roth,' Nina said, weak with relief.

'Frank Malone,' the old man said, shaking her hand.
'So you understand these order forms?'


Nina started at Green Earth at six bucks an hour. She
reordered stock, washed the windows, and hand-painted
the storefront a cotton-candy pink. The small price list
Frank kept at the counter was replaced by bold cardboard
signs for special offers and discounts. Compared to
the chaos of her mother's deli, Green Earth's simple
product line was a breeze to keep track of, and soon Nina
could tell her boss what was selling and what wasn't.

'Word got around fast, and more customers started
coming in. Nina gave them all polite, efficient service,
and made sure she learned the names of the regulars.
Frank .was impressed.

'How come you work so hard?' he asked her one night,
as she combed through a pharmaceutical catalogue. 'You
don't have to stay this late. You should be out having
fun.'

'I like to work,' Nina said truthfully.

It was true, she did like to work. She had a million
ideas for improvements, and Frank Malone was eager to
try them all. A widower of seven years, the store was all
he had left, and Nina Roth made it an exciting, friendly,
bustling place to be. As they started making a little
money, he gave Nina a raise; not much, but better than
nothing. Nina slaved all hours, she worked like a demon.
For one thing, the bright, airy store was better than her
dingy motel room. For another, she wasn't the fun
seeking type. And finally, she knew she had to make
herself indispensable to Frank Malone before the inevitable
happened.

It took four months.


58

'How's my favourite girl?' Frank asked one morning,
as Nina unlocked the front door.

'Good. You know, Frank, we should think about

advertising. Posters round town. The local paper.'
'Too expensive.'

'It'll pay for itself in a month.' She took off her coat
and hung it in the back.

'Well, I'm glad to see that.'

'What?' Nina asked, turning round.

He gestured at her stomach. 'You're putting on a little
weight at last. It suits you, you should eat more.'

Nina braced herself. He'd have to know some time.
'It's not that, Frank. I'm pregnant.'
Blank astonishment. 'You're pregnant?'
She nodded.

The ld man's face darkened. 'Boyfriend's not
around?'

'No.' Nina's grey eyes were expressionless, and for a
moment Frank Malone felt uneasy. Nina was such a
serious, determined kid. Seventeen going on forty-eight.

It was clear she was in no mood for arguments.

'You need any help?'

'No.' She wondered if she was being too snappy. 'But
thanks all the same.'


When she'd picked up her meagre savings, Nina had just
one thought in her head. She'd get a plac.e, find a job to
cover the rent, and spend her money on an abortion. It
was terrible to lose her scholarships, but she couldn't
stand it a second longer; she had to get out of Park Slope.
Nina wanted a place of her own, away from her selfish
parents, away from St Michael's and the kids who
laughed at her, a million miles away from Jeff Glazer.
The pain of what he'd done to her was unbelievable. Jeff
said she was nothing. Her parents treated her lik

nothing. Nina felt so lonely and so hurt she'd thought she
would die.

There was no way she'd take a c6nt from Jeff. In his
world, money bought everything, but Nina swore she
was not for sale. Once she had a job, she'd pay whatever
it took to rip his bastard out of her. By next year, she'd
be in control of her own life - she could reapply to
college then.

It was difficult to pinpoint the moment she'd changed
her mind. After she started at Green Earth, Nina meant
to make a doctor's appointment, but she kept putting it
off. She told herself she was settling in, but two weeks
passed, then three, and she still hadn't done it. Walking
down Atlantic Avenue in the summer evenings, past the

'
	Arab bakeries and falafel stands, she'd watch the black
robed mothers cuddling their downy-haired babies, and
feel an unexpected tenderness. Or she'd notice a little girl
trotting behind her morn in a shopping mall and wonder
what her own baby might look like. Somehow she shoved
the issue to the back of her mind. It was easy to ignore it,
af least at first. Nina had no morning sickness, no
cravings for sardine and jelly sandwiches, nothing. Her
already voluptuous body didn't seem any different,
except for a little tenderness around the breasts.

Two months into her job, the third month of pregnancy,
Nina found herself stacking jars of baby applesauce.
She froze as she stared at the label, showing a
chubby baby with a gap-toothed smile. And she knew
she'd changed her mind.

Nina wanted her child. No matter who the father was.
She wanted someone to love. She wanted to take her to
the park and buy her dolls and building bricks. She
wanted to play with her. She wanted to give her all the
joys, all the caring, that her own parents never bothered
with. She knew it sounded selfish, but that was the way
she felt.


6o

Come on, Nina, you have to be kidding, she lectured
herself. What about college? You think you can work
your way through college with a baby?

But what about college? That was unreal, that was
another world. St Mike's and Jeff's world. This was life, earning a wage and making the rent. She could survive
without a college degree. She looked again at the applesauce.

A baby would be family, and that would be worth
anything.

It's going to be tough, the nagging voice of reason
warned her. But Nina had made UP her mind. Tough I'm
used to.


Nina always remembered the day she told Frank. It was
bitterly cold, freezing grey slush on the streets, gaudy
Christmas decorations everywhere, Chanukah lights in a
few windows, another New York winter. She found
herself looking in toy stores, full of holly and kings and neon Santas, and wondering how she'd handle Christmas with her kid. The only thing she didn't like about being
Jewish was Christmas. There was no getting around it,
Chanukah gifts couldn't compete with the orgy of
Christmas celebrations, food and trees and lights and
cards and presents, bombarding you everywhere you
went. You felt guilty as a kid for feeling so left out,
because even if it was all about money, lots of Jewish
parents scrupulously ignored the twenty-fifth. Hers had,
for sure, although Nina was sure it was more to avoid
spending any dough than for God.

She decided she'd just make a bigger deal of Chanukah.
Her baby would have no cause to complain.
That was when she knew for sure.
'Frank, I got something to tell you.'

'You're leaving,' Frank said anxiously. Nina had onl

been around a few months but it felt like for ever. He
didn't know how he'd get along without her.

'No, but I hope you won't be mad ... I've decided to
keep the baby.'

'That's wonderful,' the old guy said. His face blossomed
into a vast crinkly grin. 'You'll be a great mom. I
guess I'm gonna have to give you a raise.'

He trundled over and hugged her. Nina almost wanted
to cry. Nobody had given her such imple friendship for
as long as she could remember.

Frank added, 'I been thinking about giving you a share
in the profits, anyway. Five per cent on top of your
wages. Since we're making some, these days.'

'Oh, Frank,' Nina said. She knew it wasn't true, and
maybe she ought to turn him down, but money was so
tight, she couldn't afford to. Frank Malone was a lonely
man who felt paternal towards her, and she bad made a
big difference in the store. 'I shouldn't,' she said weakly.

'Take it.' Frank brushed aside her objections. 'I got a
cousin in Queens, a lawyer. Did my will. I'll get him to
draw up the paperwork.'

Nina hugged herself. Five per cent of one tiny store,
hardly an empire. But it was something, it was her first
step on the ladder. And Frank was a friend, and she was
going to have a baby. The future wasn't rosy, but
perhaps it wasn't so black either.


Three days later Frank Malone 'had a stroke. He was
rushed to hospital, but there was nothing the doctors
could do. He died an hour later.


'Nina Roth?'

Nina looked up from sweeping the floor as the door
jangled. A tall, stocky man in a homburg and a black
overcoat stepped into the store, ignoring the 'Closed'


6z

sign. She frowned wearily; there was so much to do
before the funeral, and nobody else to do it.

'That's right,' she said, holding on to the broom in the

hope he'd take the hint, but the stranger didn't budge.
'I'm Connor Malone.'

'Oh.' Nina blushed, wiped her dusty hands on her
apron and came forwards to shake his hand. Connor
would be Frank's son from Albany, the one he was
always moaning never came to see him. Connor had a
sister, Mary, in Texas and Nina hadn't been expecting
either of them so soon. She wished she'd been wearing
something more appropriate than her tatty blue jeans and
red checker shirt to meet her new boss. 'Hi there. I'm so
sorry about Frank, Mr Malone. He was always very
good to me.'

She decided not even to mention the five per cent.
Connor Malone wouldn't believe her, she could tell that
right away.

'Yeah, he was a generous guy,' Connor said vaguely,
glancing around the shop. 'He really pulled it together
since the last time I was here.'

Nina couldn't exactly say that it was mostly her doing,
so she just nodded and smiled. 'Green Earth is doing
really well.'

'That's good, we'll get a better price for it.'

Connor Malone was, an insurance salesman, used to
sizing up assets, and he liked what he saw: great retail
space, attractively laid out, nicely kept. He missed his
pop but they hadn't been close for years, whereas fifty per
cent of this store would be a great" windfall for Cheryl
and the kids. He was so pleased he missed the look of
panic on the face of the small, dark-haired clerk in front
of him.

'You're not going to sell, Mr Malone?'

Connor glanced at her. 'Sure, who'd run this place
now?'


63

'Why not me?'

'I don't think so.' The salesman smiled politely. 'OK,
well, thanks for looking after the place till I got here,
Miss Roth. I know you didn't have a contract, but I'll see
you get a full month's severance. That's only fair.'

'Mr Malone, don't you think you should keep Green
Earth open? It's making a nice profit--'

'But my father's dead,' Connor explained patiently.
'Yes, sir, but I did all the book-keeping, I ran the
promotions and ordered the stock. I could go right on
doing that, and you could hire a junior to help me out.'

Malone looked at the earnest little face and almost
laughed.

'How old are you, honey, twenty-two?'

' Tm eighteen,' Nina admitted.

'Yeah? You look older ... but still, I didn't get where I
am today by hiring teenage girls to take care of business,
even pretty ones,' he added with a laboured attempt at
gallantry.

'But I have been taking care of business,' she protested.
Connor Malone's face lost some of its genial air.

'Nice try, Nina, but no dice. Sorry. I'll get you that
cheque tomorrow.'


Nina didn't attend the funeral. Instead she stayed back
and organised what passed for an Irish wake, a restrained
affair with a few glasses of Scotch and some tired
sandwiches, which was what Connor thought appropriate.
She worked methodically in the store before the
guests came back, tidying the last few boxes of pills and
bottles behind the counter. Connor would be pleased to
see the place straight and somehow it seemed a better
farewell to Frank than a bunch of flowers anyway. Nina
buffed the mahogany counter until she could see her own
face and tried to figure out what Frank would have
advised her. First up, don't panic.


64

She leaned back against the empty shelves and took a
deep breath. On her own again. Well, she'd been there
before.

It was scary, but she did have some options this time.
The local storekeepers knew her and a couple of them
had been over making probing noises. Fatimah Resaid in
the large grocery across the street had even offered her a
job, so she wasn't going to starve. But Nina had the baby
to think of now. Even if it was frightening, she had to
hold out for something better. A career with potential.

Mrs Minsky in the hairdresser's opposite, who was
fond of the grave, quiet kid who'd turned Frank
Malone's sorry little store around, had tried to do her a
good turn just that morning. Abraham & Straus, the
huge department store on Hoyt Street, ran a management
trainee programme.

'My niece's husband works over there, he could put in
a good word for ya,' Mrs Minsky announced. 'You got
your pay, your benefits ... that's a real business, Nina, ya
could go places with an outfit like that.'

'Thank you, Mrs Minsky, I appreciate it,' Nina said
uncertainly.

'What, ya don't like Abraham and Straus? Ain't it big
enough for ya after the empire here?' Mrs Minsky

snorted, waving her hands round the empty room.
'It's not that,' Nina said.

'Ya worked in retail, in a drugstore,' Mrs Minsky
pointed out. 'Now the question is, where can that take
ya? In the store business, in Brooklyn? A and S is the best
there is, honey, think about it.'

When the mourners returned and pounced on the
whisky and salmon, Nina was still thinking about it. By
the time pompous young Connor took her aside and
magnanimously announced he was adding one extra
week to her severance pay, Nina had pretty much made
up her mind.


65

She was more interested in 'drug' than 'store'. Abraham
& Straus was glamorous, for Brooklyn; a retail
career could lead to Saks and Bloomingdale's, to pretty
cosmetic counters and staff discounts on perfume. It
would be fun and fashionable.

However, the real money was elsewhere. A year's
book-keeping had taught her the kind of cash that the
prescription-drug companies made, despite lazy salesmen
and lousy service. New York was hooked on its vitamins
and minerals, its pills and potions, and it would stay that
way. There were vast improvements needed in the
pharmaceutical business. She'd been a customer and she
knew it. Thinking about that gave her a little frisson of
excitement.

' The drug business would be less diverting than a big
retail store and much harder work, but it would provide
better for her kid. As far as Nina was concerned, that was
all that mattered.

Chapter 8


Elizabeth arched her back under the caress of his tongue.
Gerard's grip was firm, one hand expertly brushing
across her breasts, the other stroking between her legs as
he moved down her spine. Her skin was hot and slippery,
making her long, burnished hair damp around the
forehead and dewing the chiselled outlines of her
muscles. Gerard was so lost in lust for her incredible
body he never noticed her eyes were closed. His own
were fixed on the gilt-edged mirror opposite the bed, its
ornate frame belying the wild scene it was reflecting. Silk
sheets and pillows crumpled on the floor. A primrose
satin Dior gown and evening suit flung casually over a
chair. And Elizabeth's firm body curving back against
him, his cock pushing in and out of her ... too hot to
wait, Gerard felt himself speeding up, his breath coming

shorter, starting to thrust. He gasped.

"Chrie, chrie, je t'aime ..."

She said nothing but he felt her press against his hand.
In time to his thrusts, he brushed his fingertips lightly
back and forwards, the way she liked it. She moaned, and
his touch got faster. He felt his orgasm gathering,
struggled to control it until he could make her come. Two
strokes, two more, and then he pressed hard against her
clitoris and heard her cry out, the flat of her stomach
pulsing. Groaning with pleasure, Gerard exploded inside
her and collapsed. They slumped back together on to the
sheets.

Elizabeth panted as her climax subsided, coming out of


67

her fantasy. For a few seconds she was dizzy, disorientated.
Then she felt Gerard slip out of her and remove the
condom, snapping her back to reality. The James Bond
sex scene dissolved into her hotel suite, Sean Connery
reverted to her boyfriend, and Moscow turned back to St
Moritz.

'You're so beautiful, Elizabeth. ]e t'adore,' Gerard
murmured.

'You were great, Gerard,' Elizabeth said coolly. She
could never reach a climax with Gerard without fantasis
ing. Once the pleasure had ebbed, she found she always
wanted to be alone. She wondered how to get him out of
her suite without actually being rude.

'You've worn me out, baby.' Elizabeth stretched out as
*though exhausted. 'Better get back to your own room. I
need some sleep before tomorrow, and if you stick
around, I'll be up all night.'

'OK, sure. I understand. The races come first.'

He was too eager to please, pulling on his clothes right
away. Elizabeth couldn't stand that puppy-dog look.
Gerard had seemed like he'd be different from Karl and
Richard, but in the end they were all the same: knocked
out by dating the famous Lady Elizabeth, society darling
and starlet of the slopes.

'Well, it is the World Cup.'

'And you'll go home with the title, cbrie, j'en suis sr.'
His enthusiasm annoyed her. Who did Gerard de
Mesnil want to be with? Elizabeth, or the World
Champion? She knew he'd be right at the bottom of the
black run that plunged down from Diavolezza tomorrow,
waiting to hug her for the cameras after the ladies'
downhill. It was boring. He was boring.

Elizabeth stirred restlessly. 'See you tomorrow.'

"A demain."

After Gerard left, Elizabeth got up from the bed and
wandered into her bathroom, a fantasy of ivory and gold.

68


he ran a bath, pouring a stream of expensive scented oil
under the foaming taps. The fragrance of lavender and
thyme filled the room and she willed herself to relax. The
bathroom had a large window overlooking the lake, and
as Elizabeth sank into the watei she could see the spires
and turrets of the luxurious Palace Hotel, where her
parents would be checking in tonight. For all she knew
they might already have landed. Monica could be
strolling through St Moritz right now, picking up some
new toys at Cartier or an extra scarf at Hermes. Dad
would have gone straight to the Corviglia, the most
exclusive ski club in the world. Despite a total lack of
interest in skiing, her parents had bought some equipment
and joined last year, skipping the long waiting list.
Lord Caerhaven was old money and head of Dragon plc.;
cash and class. The Corviglia was just another open door.

Relations with her family had changed completely.
When Elizabeth was offered a place on the British ski
team, Tony agreed at once. Skiing was a frightfully
pukka sport, almost as good as showjumping. They
could talk about Elizabeth at dinner parties again.

Soon it was clear they could do more than that.
Elizabeth came second in her first slalom, actually won a
downhill at M6ribel. To the amazement of the Europeans,
the British teenager came from nowhere to finish
fourth overall in her first World Cup.

Elizabeth was an overnight sensation. The story had it
all - a beautiful, sexy-looking young girl, with a strong
body and cascading honey hair; a British amateur beating
the Alpine nations at thei own gamei and best of all, she
had a title. Photos of Elizabeth smiling on the rostrum in
her sapphire Ellesse skisuit were splashed all over the
papers. The BBC put her on the news. Reporters were
hastily dispatched to Cortina to grab a quote. She was
the pin-up of the moment - recession-bound Britain, with
strikes paralysing the Labour government and rubbish

Spiling up on the streets, was in need of a bit of glamour.
In the 'Winter of Discontent', sexy Lady Elizabeth Savage
gave people something to smile about. The press called
her 'plucky' and 'gorgeous' and praised the earl and
countess for letting her have a go. To their amazement,
Tony and Monica found Elizabeth was an asset, her
black fleece washed white by the Alpine snow.

That Christmas, Elizabeth cautiously asked her father
for a favour. She wanted to spend thee summer working at
Dragon plc.

Instead of the curt refusal she'd been dreading, the earl
calmly agreed.

'If it would amuse you, Elizabeth. I believe there's
some space at head office.'

Elizabeth gaped with disbelief and stammered a thank
you.

'Switzerland has obviously been good for you, you've
been a credit to the family. Is that going to continue?'

Shock was replaced by understanding. Swallowing a
sarcastic retort, Elizabeth nodded.

"Good. I expect you'll enjoy it. As long as you realise
the arrangement is temporary. You're bound to meet a
decent chap on the winter circuit, and you'll be far too
busy with wedding plans ...'

Tony couldn't have been plainer. As long as she played
ball and behaved herself, she could do what she wanted,
but they were still planning on marrying her off. They
just liked the added extras she could bring them right
now: a whole new set of parties, terrific social clout, a
new sparkle on the family crest.

To underline the point, Monica gave her a diamond
bracelet for Christmas, and on New Year's Day Tony
quadrupled her allowance.

Elizabeth sold the bracelet. She opened a secret bank
account in Geneva, and fed her allowance into it every
month. The new star of the British team didn't need


70

money. She raced as an amateur and wasn't allowed pay,
but after the World Cup success companies fought to
sponsor the team. Suddenly the Federation was swamped
with funds. The team got aerodynamic, body-fitting suits
especially made by Ellesse, and customised Rossignol skis
with an extra edge. They booked suites at the best hotels
and flew first-class instead of club. For Elizabeth, nothing
was too much. She demanded an iridescent suit that
caught the light when she hit the slopes, so she looked
like a flashing rainbow against the snow. She never
shared a room; she ignored the British coach; and she
stayed up all hours on the circuit, partying, glittering,
flirting, a butterfly playgirl in the skiing jet set.

It drove her team-mates mad. When they were getting
up at six to sweat in the hotel gyms, Elizabeth was
lounging in bed with hot chocolate and a croissant. When
they were slamming down the practice runs, being
screamed at by the coach, Elizabeth would turn up late
and do her own thing. When they were ordered to bed at
nine p.m. before a race, Elizabeth would be downstairs in
the cocktail bar, living it up with the Austrians, swapping
notes with Franz Klammer, or draping herself over the
arms of the latest beau.

Janet Marlin, Karen Carter and Kate Cox, the other
British girls, thought Elizabeth was a bitch. A spoilt
teenage brat, she loved the limelight and rewrote the
rules. It drove them nuts the way the men swarmed
around her, begging for a date, . drooling over the tight
young body with its firm curves, the suntanned face with
its big green eyes. Bad enough that Elizabeth was so
gorgeous, without her showing up in sparkling diamond
earrings and Perry Ellis cocktail gowns. And on top of
that, she had a title. It was 'Yes, my lady', 'No, your
ladyship', wherever they went. Even the press hounds
called her 'Lady Elizabeth' when they were baying for a

7][


quote. Elizabeth never did what the officials told her, but
nobody dared complain.

The bottom line was, on the day of the race, Lady
Elizabeth Savage was a crouching she-wolf, one of the
top ten females in the world. She was the best skier from
Britain in fifty years. And she knew it.

Elizabeth clung to her new freedom fiercely. For the

first time in her life, she had nobody bossing her; not her
father, not her finishing school. Unsure of what to do, she
tried to act as sophisticated as possible. The skiing circuit
was full of ultra-glamorous types: billionaire Americans,
old English money, European princes, comtes and margraves.
Everybody admired her skiing and it was easy to
fit in; she was rich, titled, talented. The team didn't

'bother her while she kept winning races. She was the coup de foudre, the thunderbolt, famous across the Alps.
She felt edgy and rebellious, she didn't listen to her
trainers. International skiing didn't have much to do with
sport: the events took up one per cent of her time; ninety
nine per cent was press, publicity, planes, and parties.

"In the eye of the glittering storm, Elizabeth Savage felt
lonely and empty.

She got a reputation as a playgirl. Soon she accepted

one of the persistent suitors: Karl von Hocheit, a male
model and son of a German car tycoon. Karl introduced
her to sex, and she felt defiant and wild, but they had
nothing in common. Karl was handsome, but he was
blond and bland. She dumped him for the Hon. Richard
Godfrey, an Old Etonian, heir to a hotel empire; her
parents were thrilled. Then Richard said she should win
the title and settle down to child-rearing.

'Who cares?' he asked when she talked about Dragon.
'Lizzie, don't you realise you don't need to work? I'll take
care of the cash.'

They broke up the same night.

Now there was Gerard, Comte de Mesnil. Gera.rd was


7z

a good lover and made no demands. She had been with
him ever since.

In her second year of competition, Elizabeth took the
individual silver for the slalom, gold for the downhill and
overall bronze medal. The country went nuts, but she
was bitterly disappointed. She stood beside Heidi Laufen,
triumphant on the winner's rostrum, and heard them
play the Swiss national anthem.

Next year, Elizabeth swore. Next year it'll be 'God
Save the Queen'.

That autumn, Elizabeth flew out to Davos to begin
training again. She met up with Gerard and started to
party. Once again, though, she began to feel a gaping
emptiness inside her.

It was true that she loved to ski, but she didn't want to be a skier. Yet she wasn't equipped to do anything else.

All the'flashbulbs, laughter and chiming champagne
glasses in the world couldn't drown out the question
pounding in her head.

My God. What am I going to do?

73


Chapter 9


'Elizabeth, you have a visitor.'

Ronnie Davis, the British coach, studied his star athlete

with an exasperated expression. Elizabeth had come third
in the downhill at Val d'Isre, trailing Louise Levier by a
good six seconds. Shrugging, she had promised to do
better at Mribel, but she'd still cut training yesterday.
How could he ream her out for coming third when the
media were all over her, celebrating another bronze? The
kid had professional talent but an amateur attitude. It
drove him crazy.

'Is it Gerard again? Tell him I'm busy,' Elizabeth said,
p.ushing her dark glasses further up her nose. 'I want to
unpack and take a shower.'

They were standing in the lobby of the Antares,
Mribel's smartest hotel. Janet was already strapping up
for the slopes; Kate had gone to work out in the fitness
room. Ronnie knew that Elizabeth would head for a cafe
and a paper, despite the slalom tomorrow. It was her

third World Cup. You could lead the mare to water ...
'No, it's not Gerard. Regretfully.'
'Hans!'

Elizabeth spun round to see a tall, white-haired figure
standing behind her. She rushed to give him a hug. 'What
are you doing here? I thought you retired last year.'

'It's true I don't coach, but they can't get rid of me that

fast,' Wolf told her gravely. He nodded at Ronnie. 'An
honour, Herr Davis. You have your country wining races
again.'

'That's all down to Elizabeth,' Davis said flatly. 'I'm
sure you two will want to catch up. I think I'll find Janet
and run through the slalom.' He shook hands with Hans
and headed for his room. Great, just great. Another
hanger-on to tell Elizabeth how wonderful she was.

Hans took Elizabeth out to lunch. They rode the La
Saulire gondola, suspended high over the Trois Vall6es,
the biggest skiing area in the world. Mountains stretched
below them, vast craggy peaks covered with smooth
blankets of snow, pine forests bisected with open trails.
People swooped down the runs like colourful ants, but at
this height the frantic activity seemed calm, minute,
dwarfed by the immensity of the Alps.

Wolf had chosen the Pierres Plates, a chalet restaurant
at the gondola station with breathtaking views down the
valley. They sat on the sun-drenched terrace, the light
burnishin copper highlights on Elizabeth's tawny hair,
and watched the skiers swoop away down the black runs.
Pulling on his own shades because of the glare of the
mountaintops, Hans ordered for them both: soup with
thick, black bread, sausage and sauerkraut, and a beer
and Orangina.

'It's a beautiful view, Night wahr? The top of the
world.'

'Stunning,' Elizabeth agreed.

Hans waved a wrinkled hand at the scene in front of

them. 'Ja? What do you see?'

'See? Skiers, I suppose.'

'Skiers. I am surprised you recognise them.'
Elizabeth glanced sharply up at the bid man, and found
the pale blue eyes were narrow with disapproval. 'What
are you talking about?' she protested. 'I took the bronze
in the Cup last year.'

'If I was Herr Davis, I would send you home. I would
not let you ski. You are a disgrace to your country.'

Hans Wolf was leaning towards her, his weatherbeaten


75

face angry and passionate. 'Everyone talks about you,
how you do not train, you will not learn, you refuse all
instruction. With these boys, always you are running
around. You are not a skier, you are a tourist.'

Elizabeth dropped her hunk of black bread and pushed
back her chair. 'I don't have to listen to this. Don't you
read the papers, Hans?'

'Acb, the papers. Of course, you area big star. Coup
de foudre, the thunderclap, yes? A woman Prime Minister,
and now a girl ski champion.' He snorted with

disgust. 'You don't notice the others saying that.'
'Which others?'

'Other skiers. The pros. The men and women up here
who are not impressed by your pretty face, your noble
family. They know you are not trying. You have talent.
So? Talent, you were born with. That is nothing to
respect. What matters is what you do with it.' Ignoring
her look of outrage, Hans Wolf dipped his spoon in the
spicy soup. 'You, Frdulein, turn up to race like you were
p.unching a clock.'

'Hey, I took fourth, then the bronze. I'll make gold this
year.' Elizabeth tried to pretend she didn't know what
Hans meant. 'Maybe I need a little polishw'

'Polish! You think taking gold is as easy as that? Yes,
you took bronze last year, but only because Heidi fell in
the Lauberhorn." Otherwise, it would have been fourth
again. You are four, five seconds behind Heidi and
Louise, each race.'

'That's nothing,' Elizabeth muttered.

'It is eternity. The Swiss girls train every day, while you
go shopping. They rest every night, when you giggle with
your young men. But then they are not here to catch a

husband; they are here to race. And win.'

'Hans ...'

'The young Comte de Mesnil? Very rich, a good estate.
A fine catch.' He shook his head contemptuously. 'Aah,

Elizabeth. When I first met you, you had the passion. You
could have been one of the best. I saw a great skier, not
some gilded Hausfrau.'

'I don't intend to marry Gerard. In fact, I'm going to
break up with him,' Elizabeth said, knowing it was true.
'Hans, I'm not out here to get a husband.'

'Why do you resent the sport, then? Liebcben, I can't
help if you won't tell me.'

Behind her sunglasses, Elizabeth's eyes filled with tears.
Nobody had dared speak this way to her since she'd
started racing, but it was all true. She was coasting; she
was pathetic. Hans was deadly accurate: along the way,
her love of the silent, plunging world of the skier had
turned into a brooding resentment.

'Because I like to ski, but they're making me a skier. Just a skier. I want to be in business, Hans.'

Her mentor's face was a mask of astonishment. 'Is this
all? You do that later, no? When you finish on the
slopes.'

'No! I can't! You don't get it. My parents wouldn't let
me qualify for college; they don't want me to work. I've
got no degree, no experience, nothing. This is all I can
do.' She gestured to the crowds behind her, and then, to
her embarrassment, burst out crying.

Hans Wolf handed her a handkerchief and coaxed out
the whole story. Her miserable childhood, Granny, her
disastrous sixteenth-birthday ball. The showdown with

Tony over the will, Switzerland, and now this.
'So. You have no way to fend for yourself.'
Elizabeth shook her head. Now wasn't the time to
bring up her Zurich bank account; she'd been salting
money away since the start of last year, but it still
totalled only �5,ooo. Not enough to live on.

'Well, maybe there is other things you can do. Other
firms you work for, not only Dragon. Perhaps the FIS, being ?' The Fd6ration Internationale de Ski was the

77


sport's governing body. 'You are clever, Elizabeth.
Nobody needs pieces of paper to see it. You are
glamorous, well known. You might help promote the
sport, but not if you continue this way - they know you
are faking, they won't touch you.'

'OK, 0 K. I hear you.' Elizabeth felt a tiny ray of hope
pierce the shadows. Sell skiing for the FIS ? God knew she
had first-hand, customer experience. All it would take
was one post, one job where she-could shine.

		you suggest I do?'

	do

Wolf speared a forkful of sauerkraut. 'You stop
wasting time this season and you start to train. For the
first time, you work with the other athletes. You will

, need to sweat blood to get that five seconds back.'

'All right. I suppose I could try.'

'You will succeed. I will arrange for you to train with

some of the men's teams - don't think of beating Heidi
Laufen, think of beating Franz Klammer.'

'Klammer!'

"The legendary Swiss racer had won twenty-five titles.

'You must try to be best. Not just as a woman - best
overall. Then, you might take the gold. Anyway, this

World Cup is a warmup.'

'To next year's Cup?'

'No, idiot child. To the Olympics.'


Darkness. Panic. Elizabeth woke with a start, the shrilling
of the telephone shocking her out of sleep. Semiconscious,
she grabbed at-it blindly.

'Good morning, my lady,' a French voice said calmly.
'It's five a.m. Your wake-up call.'

The slalom was at twelve, and she'd agreed to be ready
for practice at six. Hans had arranged for her to meet up
with the US men's team; there was a long mogul run
down from Mont de la Challe, an unrelenting bastard of


78

a run that would have her turning and slicing like her life
depended on it.

It would be hard, hard work.

Sighing, Elizabeth hit the shower.


'Where's our princess?' Kate Cox asked at nine, when the
team assembled in the lobby for training. 'Still in bed?'

'Some rich French Romeo's still keeping her up,' Janet
guessed.

Karen Carter shook her head. 'We won't wait for the
thunderbolt. Let's just hope she turns up for the race.'

Ron Davis joined his team, a scrap of paper in his
hand.

'It's a note from Hans Wolf. Apparently Elizabeth's
already on the moguls. Training. She got there three
hours ago.'

'You're )king. Who with?' Janet demanded.

Davis scratched his head. 'With the Yanks.'

'Kim and Holly are training with her? They're letting
Elizabeth see their technique?'

'She's training,' Davis said slowly, 'with the men.'


When Hans Wolf arrived at five forty, Elizabeth Savage
was already waiting. He had a flash of admiration for her
curvy figure, the stylish way she carried herself on those
skis; he might be fifty years too late, but some guy was
going to get very lucky. It annoyed him to think of a girl
like that with Gerard de Mesnil. That milksop was just a
snow groupie with money.

Of course, people said that about Elizabeth, but they
were wrong. There was some spark about the girl he'd
never forgotten; enough to make his blood boil when he
saw her wasting her talents. At Saas-Fe she'd looked one
with the slopes, a snow-leopard, but a year into international
competition, she was a robot. Bored and cynical,
lost in the glitterati.


79

Wolf didn't know himself why he cared. He was
retired, and Elizabeth wasn't even Swiss. But it was the
chill twilight of early morning, and here they were.

'How you feel? Muscles all warm and relaxed?' he
asked as they jumped on the draglift.

Elizabeth nodded, adjusting her goggles.

'After four hours with Brad they will be screaming for
mercy,' Wolf told her smugly.

He could see her body in front of him tensing with
anticipation. Every muscle in her thighs was lovingly
outlined in that shimmering Lycra; her tight, round butt
sat high on her long legs.

For a second he worried that Brad would get mad at
him. Brad Hinds, the US men's coach, was training for
the Super-G tomorrow. The demands he made of his
boys would be a shock to Elizabeth's system, but if they
took time out to look at their guest, she'd have them all
crashing into the mountain.


'] can't believe you're making us do this, Brad. It's a
waste of fucking time.'

Jack Taylor leaned against his ski-pole, his two.
hundred pounds perfectly balanced, barely denting the
snow. It always amazed the team, how such a big guy
could be so fluid, so smooth, once he strapped his boots
into the skis. Taylor was six-three, bench-pressed three
hundred, refused to check into a hotel without a weights
room. But get him on the snow and he moved like a
ballerina.

Sam Florence, Rick Kowalski and Pete Myers had all
been on the team longer than Jack, but they didn't resent
him. Taylor was the great white hope for the Olympics
next year. He'd taken the silver in his first World Cup,
overall gold last year and was running a comfortable lead
over his Austrian rival this year. Despite the overnight
success, though, Taylor had worked for it. His dedication


8o

took even champion athletes aback. Taylor would be up
before dawn working out, ran five miles each evening
before supper, ski'd all year long to train, following the
snow round the world as the seasons shifted across the
globe. Jack studied videos of the competition, tested out
countless pairs of skis to find a millimetre advantage for
his edge. It wore you out just watching him.

Jack Taylor had his sights on next year. An Olympic
gold medal for his country, nothing less. The World Cup
was a practice run.

The team admired him more because he didn't have to
do it. Now twenty-four, Taylor had been tapped for the
US three years back, when he was skiing for Harvard at
Aspen. That year he'd graduated magna cum laude in
English and put off a business degree for the sport. He
could only dedicate one more year to amateur competition
- his oe shot at the Olympics. But Taylor was never
going to need the glory for a r6sum& His father was a
multimillionaire, one of the few Texans to make a
fortune outside oil and cattle. John Taylor, Sr, had a
Thoroughbred horse ranch outside of Dallas and traded
Grade-A bloodstock across the world. The Aga Khan and
other Arab princes made the trip across the Atlantic to
buy from him.

Jack Taylor was an only child. One day he would own
four hundred acres of prime Southern land, two Dallas
hotels, a large stock portfolio, a colonial mansion and an
exclusive stable of racehorses.

In addition to this, there was the slight matter of his
looks. His mom used to say that when" God was making
Jack, he forgot to press the 'stop' button. Sometimes it
didn't seem fair. Not only was he smart, rich and athletic,
Jack Taylor's tall, muscled body was crowned with a face
that stopped girls in their tracks. Women passed him on
the street, paused, and turned round for another look.
Taylor had jet-black hair, so smooth and glossy it

8I


looked like the flank of one of his mares. He cropped it
close to the head in a severely masculine cut, which
complemented the frank brown eyes with their dark, long
lashes, the square jaw and the sensual, slightly cruel
mouth. Jack couldn't help his mouth, but it was the
finishing touch that broke so many girls' resistance. Set
against his all-American, open good looks, the faint
sullenness of the mouth, the ruthless set of his lips, spoke

of a hidden drkness, a pitiless male sexuality.

Girls fluttered around him like butterflies.

Jack was selective about the ones who made it to his
bed. He'd been hit on since junior high, the envy of all his
friends who found it Mission: Impossible just getting to
, second base. Jack was thirteen years old when he lost his
virginity, and thirteen and a half when his pop caught
him on a haystack with his riding mistress. The riding
mistress was fired, and Jack was given a lecture. Horrified
by his father's lurid descriptions of what venereal
disease could do to his cock, Jack was supposed to
abstain. Instead, he learned everything there was to know
about condoms.

His pop did nothing because he was secretly delighted.
Every good of' boy would be proud of a son who got laid
at thirteen.

By the time he was fifteen, Jack Taylor was a
connoisseur.

By the time he hit college, .he was sexually mature.
Dynamite in bed, he was dominant and skilful. Non
orgasmic women often climaxed for the first time with
Jack. He learned to savour going slow, to enjoy relationships,
not just two-week flings without strings. His pop
boasted that if a stallion of his could sire like Jack, he'd
retire ten years early, but slowly the string of cute faces
were replaced by steady girlfriends who lasted four, five
months at a time.


8z

Still, Jack had never fallen too hard. Six girlfriends at
Harvard; six broken hearts by the time he left.

Clarisse Devlin was the last candidate. Blonde, slim
and pretty, Clarisse had hung on for a year post-graduation,
but eventually the constant travel broke them up.
Against the dream of Olympic gold, Clarisse never stood
a chance, and Jack was secretly glad. He didn't need a
girl hanging round right now. There were enough
Identikit Euro-babes on the circuit to keep any guy
happy, and being single gave him more time to train.

Taylor took practice deadly seriously. He was none too
happy right now.

'It's not a waste of time. It's a favour to Hans Wolf.'

'Yeah? Why can't she train with the British guys? Or
have Hans ask favours from the Canadians, not us?'

Brad Hinds shrugged. 'He wants her to train with the
best. She's'the women's bronze medallist. This year she
wants gold.'

'Elizabeth Savage is no gold medallist.'

'I didn't know you followed the women's competition,
Jack.'

'Enough to know that Savage is lazy, disruptive.' Jack's
voice was ice. 'We don't need that attitude around.'

'So, not everyone's a fanatic,' Brad Hinds said doubtfully.
He'd heard the same things. 'But it's only once, and
we owe Hans. Come on, Taylor. He helped you out
enough last year.'

Sighing, Jack Taylor nodded. Last year he'd pulled a
ligament and might have dropped out if Hans Wolf
hadn't found him the best doctor in Switzerland.

'OK, OK. But don't expect me to slow down so she
can study my technique.'

His team-mates laughed.

'You wouldn't slow down for the President,' Rick
Kowalski pointed out.

At that moment the draglift pulled two figures into


83

view and started carrying them up the mountain to the
top of the mogul run.

Sam, Rick and Pete stared at Elizabeth's curvy frame
with open admiration.

Jack shook his head. Sex kittens were great, but not
while he was working.

'Here already,' Hans said cheerily as he slid off the
draglift. 'Brad, it's good to see you. Hello, guys. Brad,
can I present Lady Elizabeth Savage.'

Brad Hinds leaned forward and took Elizabeth's
gloved hand. He tried hard not to show how surprised he
was. Christ, the kid was gorgeous! High cheekbones,
brilliant green eyes, full lips, kick-ass athletic little body.
She had a tight butt, long legs, sculptured shoulders.
Goggles and rainbow Lycra that clung like a second skin
did a lousy job of wrapping her up. He couldn't stop his
eyes flickering over her breasts. They had to be the only
part of her that wasn't firm and toned. To his dismay, he
felt the beginnings of a hard-on. Thank God he'd picked
bulky nylon pants today.


	'Uh, how do you do, my lady,' Hinds said uncertainly.
'Please call me Elizabeth, Mr Hinds. It's such an

honour to meet you. I really appreciate your making time
for me today.' Her small hand shook his huge paw
enthusiastically.

'Hey, no problem. I'm Brad, and these are Sam, Pete,
Rick and Jack.'

'Elizabeth.' Sam Florence's grin was fit to split his face.
Kowalski and Myers nodded hi and undressed her with
their eyes. Nothing she wasn't used to.

However Taylor's reaction was a surprise. He gave her
a cold stare, shifted impatiently on his skis, and turned
away. 'Brad, can we get going? We've hung around long
enough.'

'Sure.' Hinds pulled out a stopwatch. 'You take the
first run.' He turned to Elizabeth as Taylor settled into a

crouch. 'Don't mind Jack. He's World Champion, it
makes him a little excessive about training.'

'Oh, I understand,' Elizabeth said warmly. 'Jack, you
were superb at Garmisch--'

She never got to finish her sentence. Ignoring her
completely, Taylor pushed off with a mighty lunge and
tore down the mogul run, planting his stick cleanly and
with perfect rhythm, his heavy body leaping, twisting and
landing cleanly and sharply.

'Jack Taylor is a real skier. He does not want to know
you,' Hans whispered in her ear. 'You have not earned
his respect.'

Elizabeth stood at the top of the run, her eyes
narrowing.

That smug bastard. She was going to teach him a
lesson, o


Two hours later, Elizabeth was ready to drop. Hans had
been right: training with the men pushed her to the limit.
Her muscles were burning with effort, her body bathed in
sweat under the suit, her head throbbing from the gritted
focus it took keeping up with them. After Pete Myers
sliced his way down the mogul run barely a second
behind Jack, Elizabeth took a go. Swooping, turning and
jumping with ferocious concentration, she made the run
three seconds ahead of her personal best.

She was miles behind the men. Taylor's stare was
scornful.

Elizabeth listened to Brad's comments with unusual
humility, but she was biting her lower lip with rage. The
second descent, she shaved off two extra seconds, but still
trailed Taylor. The third time she pushed herself too hard
and fell, bruising her outer hip painfully and jolting a ski
out of its bindings.

'Are you OK? Maybe you'd better take a breather,' the'


85

coach suggested anxiously. Ronnie Davis would skin him
alive if the Brit's star girl was injured before her slalom.

'You made a great time for a woman, anyway,' Sam
told her.

Jack Taylor caught her looking at him. She was
stunningly beautiful. The type of chick who thought the
world owed her a living. Or a gold medal, in this case.

'The idea is to stay upright, Cinderella,' he remarked
coldly. 'Don't bite off more than you can chew. Women's
training is effective for women - if they bother turning up
for it.'

'I'll go again,' Elizabeth told Brad furiously.

On the fifth attempt, she managed to beat Pete Myers
,by half a second.

'Jesus!' Pete swore, disgusted with himself.

'Come on, Pete. You're way off today. Just concentrate,'
Jack Taylor said loudly, belittling her achievement.

The girl flashed him a look of pure disdain, which
Taylor pretended to ignore. He thought she was an

arrogant bitch, and he wanted her to know it.
Privately, he had concl.uded something else.
Elizabeth was the best female skier he'd ever met.

And she was the sexiest, best-looking babe he'd ever
seen.

86


Chapter


Nina was writing a job application when it happened,
sitting in Green Earth in the gloom. Connor had boarded
the place up, ready for sale, but Nina had kept a spare set
of keys. She snuck in the back most nights and hammered
out rsums and letters, a torch propped up behind her,
bombarding the big drug giants until somebody said yes.
At first she felt like a thief, but Nina was getting used to
be!ng ingenious. You could only ever rely on yourself.
Until she" landed a new job, she couldn't afford a
typewriter of her own. Most of her severance cheque had
been eaten by her new, tiny walk-up studio; you couldn't
afford to head letters with a motel address.

She was trying ICI when the first pain came. A sharp
twinge in the gut that she ignored - she was always
getting pains from her pregnancy. Then it was worse.
Nina pressed a hand to her taut midriff. God, it hurt, it
really hurt; like the worst period she ever had. Gasping,
she doubled forwards, clutching herself. There was a
pause, then another wrenching, flaming stab. Nina
staggered out of the door and on to the sidewalk. There
was a payphone there and she dialled

When the ambulance got there fiv6 minutes later, they
found Nina clinging to the phone, tears streaming down
her face. Her slacks were drenched. She knew what was
happening. She was going to lose her baby, like she'd lost
everything else.


St Jude's Blue Cross Hospital was staffed with brisk,'


87

fatigued junior doctors. A black gynaecologist saw Nina.

'I'm sorry you lost the child, but you're OK. No reason
why you couldn't have another.'

'Thank you, Doctor,' the girl said quietly.
'Got a husband?'
'No.'

'Got a job?'

'No.'

Dr Kenmore shook her head. The kid was still the light
side of twenty. Most girls in that position would be
pleased to miscarry. 'You're nineteen? You look older.'

Nina pushed herself up on her pillows. 'When do you
think I'll be fit to leave?'

She was taken aback. 'You're fit now, physically, but
you can stay and rest, that's fine. We do Medicate.'

'I have to go,' Nina said, and pushed back the covers.

'Don't you want any counselling?' Dr Kenmore asked.
'We have a rabbi here, he could talk to you.'

'No. Thank you.' Nina Roth looked up at the doctor,
her face beautiful despite its pallor, heavy, silky hair
rirging her face. 'No counselling's gonna change what
happened. I'm alive, I have to get on with it.'

What a cold young woman, Dr Kenmore thought as
she left.

Nina felt weak enough to take a cab home. She let
herself into her apartment, collapsed on the bed and cried
like she would never stop.


When she woke up, it was six p.m. It was bitterly cold,
her rickety radiator barely blunting the edge of the chill.
Her stomach hurt, but the emptiness and the loss hurt
more.

Nina forced herself out of bed and went to the
window. It was sparkling clean, like the rest of her tiny
place. Food stacked neatly in the cupboards, reiection
letters piled on the kitchen table. Total contrast, to the


88

grime and dirt outside: hookers and dealers hanging out
on the street corner, sirens screaming, traffic noises and
drunks. All those people, millions of people, and not one
of them who cared about her. She'd lost Frank. Jeff. And
now, her baby.

Idly she picked up the bottle of painkillers Dr Kenmore
had prescribed. A junkie was yelling on the sidewalk
below her. She could probably get about a hundred bucks
for these; powerful shit, Valium mixed with opiates. Easy
to get high on, easy to check out with. She would float
away on a hazy, warm cloud and just never wake up.

There was a cheap hand-mirror propped against the
Cheerios packet. Nina looked at the reflection inside the
ugly pink piping; she was red eyed but beautiful, pale,
exhausted. She saw too much experience and cynicism in
her own dark eyes. She was still just eighteen years old.

Nina unscrewed the bottle and counted out two
tablets. Recommended dose. She'd never seriously consider
taking the coward's way out. She'd made herself a
promise on Jeff Glazer's front steps, and she was
absolutely going to keep it.


Two days later, she got her first positive reply.

Dolan MacDonald was the tenth drug firm she'd
applied to. The position was for an assistant sales
manager at $z,ooo a year; a pittance by industry
standards, but a fortune to Nina. She wanted the job so
much she ached. Anything, anything to get her out of
here.

In her first interview, she answered questions on her
work experience and Dolan. Today she was meeting her
prospective boss.

Nina left the subway at the Jay Street exit and headed
for Dolan's offices, a functional block of grey stone
behind the Borough Hall. It looked dull, but she was


89

excited. Dolan MacDonald, with its boring pill bottles
and plain white packaging, was the place to be.

Her second interview took place in a drab room
somewhere on the second floor, with a bored-looking
flunky who chewed a pencil the whole time, and Ivan
Kinzslade, head of the vitamins division.

'You don't have a degree, but you made good grades.
Why you drop outta school?' he asked without preamble.

'I wanted to get on in the world, make something of
myself.'

'So why you join a tiny joint like Green Earth?'

'It was tiny, but it made a good profit,' Nina said
defensively.

Her interviewer's eyes narrowed. 'Not when you
'joined.'

Nina sat up a little straighter, realising Kinzslade had
been asking around.

'I couldn't get a job anywhere else. It wasn't such a
great idea, dropping out of school.'

T-he Russian laughed. 'You got any family?'
Only my parents, and I don't talk to them.'

Kinzslade called her at home that afternoon to tell her
she was hired.


Nina insisted on her first paycheque in advance; she
needed it for a deposit on the rent. She was surprised that
demanding the money didn't hurt her image, in fact it
impressed her bosses. Nina found that if she acted
seriously people respected her. For the second time in a
month she moved, to a small one-bedroom off Flatbush.
It wasn't much, but to Nina it was a triumph. Her own
apartment! For the first time in her life she had a
respectable place of her own, she was doing good at
work, she could pay all her bills.

It was hard, though. Nina's creamy complexion was
dull with fatigue by the end of each day, even tho.ugh she


90

was eating well. She couldn't afford unhealthy convenience
meals; it was all cheap pulses, potatoes and veggies
from the local markets, fish and chicken if it was on offer.
Nina could cook, just about. Still, she was pathetically
grfiteful when Mrs Minsky, her neighbour, dropped
round with the odd apple pie.

'Lord, child,' Mrs Minsky said, sniffing, 'they work ya
too hard, you're white as ivory. Didn't your momma tell
ya you're too cute for this? Ya need a man to take care of
ya. I gotta grandson, Carl--'

'Thanks, Mrs Minsky, but I like things this way,' Nina
said politely, but in a tone of such finality the old lady
actually gave up.
'If those guys at your work don't ask ya out, they
should be takin' their own medicines,' was her parting
shot at the door.

Nina could have laughed. Ask her out! Like they ever
did anything else! Almost every man on her floor, from
the geeky researchers to the cash 'n' flash commission
salesman, had tried his luck already. Slowly but surely
Nina got the word out that she wasn't interested. That
might have caused resentment, but who could resent the
quiet Ms Roth, that mousy, dedicated little toiler with
her reports and calculations, always either glued to the
phone or hammering at her computer screen? Nina got a
skewed reputation. She was a major babe, but uninterested
in men. She was ambitious, but bored by office
politics. Nina stayed well away from the water-cooler
crowd, just doing her job, finding her feet. And soon
enough, the boys ignored her.

All except Ivan Kinzslade, who had an instinct about
Nina. The job he'd hired her for was simple, form-filling
and number-crunching. At first she seemed happy just to
do that, but after the first month, Ivan noticed her calls to
the field offices were taking longer, she was asking for
more data.

9I


First thing one Monday morning she showed up in his
office.

'Morning, Nina, you gotta problem. ' the Russian

asked, offering her a bite of his jelly donut.

'An idea,' Nina said, coming right to the point.

Ivan liked it. Roth was more upfront than any other
young girl he'd hired. She seemed much older than her
years. Ivan was an immigrant who'd escaped from Russia
and taught himself English before winding up in Brooklyn.
Sometimes he thought he saw a similar hardness in
Nina, the look of a person who'd been through a furnace
and come out tougher the other side.

'Go on, then.'

, 'We're wasting a lot of money in the way we sell our
stuff. Look at this,' Nina said, spreading out research in
front of her boss. 'We tailor journeys to our salesmen. If
we paid more attention to retailers, we could focus our
efforts.'

'You think so?'

'I know it. Look, Ivan, I've been the customer. I know
what they want.'

Kinzslade glanced up at the grave young woman
standing over him. 'I guess you can try it,' was all he said.

Over the next year, Nina crammed as much work as
possible into an eight-hour day. She tried to alter Dolan's
sales, organising training programmes and policy around
the needs of the customers, not the company. Dolan's
sales force got a reputation for friendliness and efficiency.
Orders picked up, and Ivan gave her a pay rise.

Nina opened a new account at Wells Fargo, with a first
deposit of five hundred dollars. Every extra cent she
earned, she salted away. Waiting till she had enough
money to do something.

In her second year, Nina talked her boss into thirty
new computers. The expense was a black hole in the

92.


quarterly budget, but quickly paid for itself. Productivity
went up two per cent; clerical expenses fell.

It was hard, grunt work, trying to change a system that
had been in place for decades, but her colleagues listened
when Nina talked, even the flyboys who thought any
women in offices should be taking dictation.

'Nice idea you had for Ohio,' Grant McCoist, a flash
Midwestern rep, told her after one strategy session. 'It'll

help get our profile off the floor.'

'Thanks,' Nina said coldly.

The handsome young corner didn't take the hint. 'You
know, that dress is real pretty. You should let me buy
you dinner, we could discuss it some more.'

'If you want to discuss it, send me a memo,' Nina told
him.

'Good morning, Ms Roth,' Ally Hendry announced
confidently, turning up in her office at nine a.m. with a
huge bunch of roses. 'Wanna have lunch? We could swap
computer strategies.'

'I mostly eat at my desk. And they're sweet, but I get
hay fever,' Nina said bluntly.

'You know, you're quite the rising star,' Jock MacCallister,
a finance manager, told her as he leaned over
her computer and stared soulfully into her eyes. 'You got
some free time? You could tell me your secret.'

'I can tell you that now, Jock,' suggested Nina sweetly.
He leaned forwards.

'Hard work and imagination,' she said, trying not to
laugh at the offended look in his bloodshot eyes.

'What, you're frigid? Or you gotfa boy in your life
already?' Jock demanded, acting like a spoilt brat. Nina
regarded him coldly. That's all they were, these boys,
spoilt brats whining when they couldn't get the toys they
wanted. She made twenty-six grand a year now, she paid
her own way. Independence that was very precious to
her. Mrs Minsky might see it as natural to seek out male'


93

protection but Nina was determined never to have to. She
had no respect for men and no time for romance. Jeff
Glazer had bruised her heart so badly Nina never wanted
to risk pain like that again.

'Yeah, I do. I have a boy in my life,' she lied.

Jock puffed up like a mating pigeon. Of course, or how
could she have ignored his advances?

'OK, I guess we shoulda known,' he said magnanimously.

After that the guys left her alone. Nina was a beauty,
but she was off the market.

Nina climbed quietly, seriously, relentlessly, hand over
fist, without stopping for friendship or looking back for

love. She didn't care. She thought that stuff was for
' weaklings.


The phone trilled on her desk right after one. It was
Edwin Jensen a prestigious firm of head-hunters who
specialised in pharmaceuticals. She was getting herself a
reputation, they said. Dragon was looking for a business
dvelopment exec. Would Ms Roth be interested?

Nina lowered the soggy tuna sandwich that was her
idea of a lunch break and took a deep breath. Dragon
Inc. The big time. The bluest of blue chips, Dragon had
pharmacies, drugstores and health food places across
Europe and the States. Their executives were highly paid,
with hefty bonus schemes and expensive company cars.
The head offices on Park Avenue were a fantasy of
marble and gold, burgundy leather and oak, exuding old
world elegance and Fortune 4oo wealth.

Nina hadn't even considered the British giant. Dragon
was not known for its political correctness. Just for its
profits.

Dragon acted like a gentleman's club. The dress code
was strict, recruitment conservative. Dragon wanted
clean-cut young men, the cream of the Ivy League, Out of


94

Harvard via Brooks Brothers. It wasn't big on ethnic

minorities, City College grads, or women.

Why me? Nina thought.

'So, would you consider interviewing, Ms Roth?'
'Absolutely,' she said. It was certainly worth a shot. At
worst she'd get a little flavour of life inside a market
leader.

The interview took place a week later. Uncharacteristically
nervous, Nina arrived at the Dragon building on
Park Avenue ten minutes early, wearing her best suit and
imitation leather shoes. Dragon's HQ was a palace. The
reception area was a study in burgundy leather,
mahogany and marble, bustling with middle-aged men in
expensive suits. The receptionist looked at Nina like she

was gunge sticking in the sink drainer.

'Yes, miss, can I help you?'

'I'm het'e for a job interview.' Nina's voice sounded
very small in her own ears and she cleared her throat.
'My name's Nina Roth.'

The woman tapped her hi-tech keyboard and unbent
slightly. 'Yes. You take the elevator to the thirteenth
floor. You'll be seen by Mr Gary Bellman from our
Personnel division, and Lord Caerhaven.'

The back of Nina's throat dried up. 'Lord Caerhaven, personally?'

'That's right. He's visiting New York,' the receptionist
said blandly.

Nina could feel the hostility rising off the older woman
like steam. There you go, cutie, it said, how do you like
them apples?

Tony Savage. The Robber Baron. She'd clipped countless
articles about him at Dolan, everything from Vanity
Fair puff pieces to Fortune assessments. Savage had
ripped the heart out of countless small firms and research
teams, invested brilliantly, fired thousands of workers,
and turned his moribund family business into a global'


95

giant. He was respected but loathed. The drugs business
feared him. And adored him. What the hell was he here
for? Why was he attending this interview? Nina buzzed
for the elevator and tried to calm herself. Thank God, she
thought, I don't have too much time to think about it.


Upstairs a secretary ushered her into Gary Bellman's
spacious office. The two men were sitting casually on
chairs behind a long table; one, smaller chair was set in
front just for her. It felt like a long walk before she could
sit down.

'You're Nina Roth?'

'Yes, Mr Bellman, how do you do.' Nina shook hands, hoping she sounded confident.

'
	The sandy-haired guy raised an eyebrow. 'How do you

know I'm Bellman?'

'Because I recognise Lord Caerhaven.'

Tony grinned. He liked to sit in on odd meetings
around the world; lightning visits to keep his people on
their toes. Today he was inspecting Human Resources.
Bllman, his new guy, liked to pick people from different
backgrounds to the norm: scholarship kids, entrepreneurs, corners cherry-picked from Glaxo or ICI. This
girl, Roth, had brought in some reforms at Dolan. Her
file said she had a reputation already. She was clearly
terrified, but putting on a good act. It impressed him; her
lovely face and sexy figure impressed him a lot more.

He didn't mind the odd woman around. They cost less,
they worked harder. The Dragon boys' club was no place
for a lady, but then this kid wasn't a lady, she was a

working-class hustler from the wrong side of Brooklyn.
And she knew who he was.
'Tony Savage,' he said.

His strong, fleshy hand gripped hers like a vice, dark
eyes sweeping across her body like they could X-ray her.

Nina blushed. Savage was physically overbearing,


96

large and muscular. He had an air of ruthlessness that
matched his reputation. She had to fight not to flinch
under his stare. Next to his charcoal wool Turnbull &
Asser suit, his gold Blancpain watch and his immaculate
manicure, Nina felt cheap and underdressed.

'Thank you for seeing me,' she replied coolly.

'Lord Caerhaven has some questions for you, Ms
Roth,' Bellman said.

Tony Savage looked Nina over for a long, luxurious
moment, careful to keep his eyes expressionless. The
scout reports on her work suggested some ugly bluestocking.

Nina Roth was anything but..An awesome body under
that shapeless suit. A flaring bosom tapering down to a
handspan waist, a tight, round ass, creamy white skin,
nicely turned calves. Her body language was repressed,
though.�Knees pressed together. Back rigid. Clothes
designed to play down that sexy shape.

Savage fired a question. Nina answered it sharply. He
fired another.

Nothing seemed to raze her. As Nina talked, Savage's
thoughts drifted. He wanted to see if his hands would
really fit round that waist. What colour the nipples were
on top of those creamy breasts. She looked uptight: great.

Not the kind to sleep around.

A challenge.

Tony nodded coldly and made a small note on his pad.
Nina Roth had a great future with Dragon.

Chapter


Nina gave herself a last check. It- was her first day at
Dragon and she wanted to look perfect. She'd chosen her
new suit at Saks on Saturday, something she could barely
afford, but it was an investment. The eighties were here.

It was a brave new world, and women executives had a
new rulebook to go with it - John Molloy's Dress for

'
	Success. Nina had a well-thumbed copy of this bible next
to her bed, and she obeyed it to the letter. Adopt a
business uniform. Blouse lighter than the suit. No bright
red, bright orange or bright anything. Avoid emphasising
the bust.

Easier said than done, Nina thought uneasily. Her suit
conprised a white cotton blouse, a boxy jacket with the
latest 'power dressing' essential - padded shoulders - a
skirt that hovered precisely on the knee and low pumps
with natural hose. In her one concession to individuality,
Nina rejected navy in favour of rich burgundy. Hopefully
the jacket was boxy enough to disguise her breasts.

Nina fiddled with the floppy bow tie at her neck, and
picked up her new leather briefcase.

'Let's go to work,' she said.


As her yellow cab crawled up Park towards the Dragon
building, Nina read over her product marketing file. She
didn't think about the oddity of her situation. A young
woman with no formal training, from the wrong side of
the tracks, storming one of corporate Manhattan's most
exclusive male bastions ... it was unheard of. But it had


98

happened, and Nina didn't waste time wondering why.
That was the past. Her eyes were fiercely trained on the
future. She'd make her mark fast and keep moving up.
She soon realised how tough that would be.

'Good morning, Ms Roth,' an elegant blonde receptionist
greeted her as she stepped inside the Italian marble
lobby. Nina had thought she would be early, but the
lobby was full of Identikit young men striding purposefully
towards banks of elevators. It was eight-twenty a.m.
She made a mental note to arrive at eight tomorrow.

'I'm the new Business Development manager,' Nina
explained, trying to sound like a businesswoman. 'I'm
due to report to Mr Jax at nine.'

The receptionist's gaze swept across the glossy black
bob, the grey eyes and ivory skin. Then she stared almost
rudely at the hourglass figure only half-hidden under the
burgundy suit, and the long, curvy calves that tapered
down to the neat pumps. Nina had to restrain herself
from checking to see if she had coffee stains on her lapels.

'Yes, ma'am,' the girl said thinly. 'Business Development
is on the twelfth floor and you have offices next to
Mr Robbins and Mr Daly. They've already arrived.'

'Thank you,' Nina said, but the girl had already
returned to her magazine. Clearly that was it. Uncertainly,
Nina picked up her briefcase and headed for the
nearest elevator bank. Three young men were standing
inside one car, but as Nina hurried towards it, the doors
hissed shut. They didn't try to hold them open for her.
She took a deep breath and pressed the button for the
next one. Maybe this was just how'people behaved in a
big corporation, Nina told herself as she waited. After
all, they didn't know her yet, and time was money.
Right?

In the slow ride up to her department Nina fiddled
anxiously with her buttons. The reflection in the mirrored
doors showed a pretty girl, maybe a little flushed, but


99

neatly, conservatively dressed. She examined it carefully
but still couldn't see anything wrong. Shrugging, Nina
shook it off. Two minutes inside the corporate jungle and
already she was getting paranoid ...

At the twelfth floor the elevator stopped gently and the
smoothly hissing doors opened on to a luxurious corridor.
The floor was carpeted with a soft grey weave and
elegantly framed prints of Dragon products. Men and
women were walking in and out Of various offices, but
only the men were executives. The women wore short
skirts, heels and pretty dresses in pastel colours, and they
all hovered and smiled deferentially. Nina glanced
around but could not see one other woman in a business
,suit.

'Excuse me.' She stopped a young redhead carrying a
freshly made mug of coffee. 'I'm new. Could you tell me
where to go?'

'Sure,' the girl said neutrally, giving Nina a once-over.

'The typing pool's at the end of the next corridor. You
should report to Mrs Finn.'

'No, I mean - I'm the new Business Development
manager. Apparently I'm going to be working with Mr
Robbins and Mr Daly,' Nina explained. 'Could you
direct me to my office?'

The girl did a double-take. 'You're N. Roth?'

'Yes. Nina Roth,' Nina confirmed.

There was a second's stunned silence, and then the girl

said, 'If you'll follow me, Ms Roth,' with barely concealed
hostility. Making no effort to put her coffee aside,
she led Nina down the length of the corridor and to the
right. A small group of tiny, windowless offices nestled in
a corner, with names stencilled in thin black lettering on
the doors. 'N. Roth' was in between 'S. Daly' and 'T.
Robbins'. You had to peer closely to read the titles and
Nina was shocked to see that all three of them h.ad the


IO0

same status: Manager, Business Development. She had
assumed she'd be the only one doing the job.

'This is your office,' the secretary said, showing Nina
into the cubbyhole of a room. Between the desk, the filing
cabinet and the trashcan, there wasn't enough room to
swing a kitten.

'Tracy Jones is the assistant assigned to you. You'll be
sharing her with Mr Robbins and Mr Daly,' the girl
continued, her tone making it clear she felt for Tracy.
'You can buzz her if there's anything you require. All the
new managers have an appointment with Mr Jax at nine
and his office is on the thirteenth floor.'

'Thank you,' Nina said faintly, opening her briefcase
and starting to lay out her documents.

'Uhohuh,' the girl said, and closed the door.

Gee, Nina thought wryly. What tells me they don't
have many women in management roles?


Five minutes later, as she was busily setting up her
computer passwords, there was a smart rap on her office
door.

'Come in,' Nina called.

It swung open to reveal two expensively dressed men,
both of them wearing big smiles and sombre pinstripe
suits. One had a gold watch and one a steel Rolex, and
Nina could see at a glance that the shoes were handmade
European leather.

'Hi, I'm Simon Daly and this is Tom Robbins,' the
taller one said, indicating his colleague. 'You must be Ms
Roth.'

'Nina.' She stood up and shook their hands. 'I'm
looking forward to working with you.'

'Ditto,' Robbins said. He had sandy hair and freckles
and she didn't care for the twinkle in his eye as he took in
her figure.

'Are you guys new here too?'


IOI

'Yes, ma'am.' Simon, the blond, seemed more open
and relaxed. He had a slight Chicago accent and a
straightforward manner. 'First day of my working life.
Dragon yanked me out of my student haven and now I'm
supposed to sing for my supper.'

'Goes for me too,' Tom added, eyes still roving over
her jacket. 'I majored in economics at Cornell and Simon
did math at Yale.'

Nina straightened up. 'I went sfraight into business
from high school. I worked at Dolan most recently.'

'And now the big time. Well, you're a liberated lady,'
Tom teased her, with an obnoxious smile.

'I like to think so,' Nina replied calmly.

, 'That's the reason, then. You don't have a degree and
we don't have any experience. That's why we get forty
five thousand and all the others get fifty-two,' Simon
grouched. He checked his Rolex. 'Ten of. Come on, let's
get upstairs. We don't want to be late for our first pep
talk.'

Nina nodded and followed them into the elevator,
trying not to let her feelings show on her face. Obviously,
working at Dragon would be like running up the down
escalator.

She'd thought thirty-five thousand was a fortune, but
they'd hired two younger guys with zero experience to do
the same job as her. For ten thousand bucks more.


The thirteenth floor was already pretty crowded. Around
thirty people were standing in the sumptuous waiting
area Nina recognised from her interview, admiring the oil
paintings of hunting scenes, sitting on chintz couches, or
gazing out of the stunning floor-to-ceiling windows. Nina
was relieved to see four other women, but as she
introduced herself, the relief lessened. Two of the girls
were in Human Resources, one was a creative in

ackaging, and one was assigned to PR. As they shook
hands, Nina sensed her isolation creep back. The girls
had jobs that sounded impressive but kept them well
away from the bottom line.

The door swung open and they filed in. Small, gold
backed chairs had been lined up in rows in front of the
elegant mahogany desk. Nina noticed the other women
automatically seating themselves in the back, anxious not
to appear pushy. Squaring her shoulders, she headed for
the centre front row.

Dragon hadn't hired her to be a shrinking violet.

All conversation ceased as Gerald Jax strode into the
room. He was wearing a dark suit and a platinum Gucci
watch. His grey hair was severely cropped and his dark
eyes hard and uncompromising. The head of Dragon US,
Jax was Tony Savage's right-hand man in the States. He
radiated ruthless power.

'Dragon Chemical is the largest drug company in the
United States. We have revenues of half a billion dollars
on turnover of three billion.'

There was absolute silence as they gazed at their new
boss.

'Taat's not enough,' Jax continued coldly. 'Lord
Cz.erhaven wants to be the biggest in the world. We aim
for radical improvements in US market share. We pay the
highest salaries and we expect the best. Dragon is looking
to you to implement its expansion.'

Jax surveyed the spellbound-new recruits.

'We're not easy to work for. We want results fast.
Those who do not deliver will be fired. Those who do -
will become extremely rich. I expect to see tangible
progress in the first month of your employment. Then
we'll know who's intended for which fate.'

He leaned forward slightly, as hypnotic and menacing
as a swaying cobra.

P'We remain the best because we never let up. Remember
this: if you rest on your laurels, they become funeral
wreaths.'

Dismissed, they rose from their chairs and began to
leave. As Nina stood up, Jax motioned to her to stay.

'Good morning, Nina. Welcome to Dragon,' he said.
'Thank you, sir,' Nina answered carefully.

Jax nodded at the crowd of young men. 'By now you
may have realised that you're quire an exception. We
haven't had many women applicants with your ability.'
His tone was unapologetic. 'I hope that's not going to be
a problem for you.'

Nina looked the vice-president straight in the eyes.
, 'No, sir. No problem at all.'

'Glad to hear it,' Jax said coolly, turning aside.

His gaze followed Nina with vivid interest as she left
the room. Tony had asked for a report on this one. She
didn't know it, but Nina Roth was going to be very
closely watched.


Th speech might have been macho melodrama, as Nina
told herself once she was safely back in her office, but a
part of her thrilled to the challenge. She had one month
to come up with something hot. Brainstorming all
afternoon, her first day, Nina fished out a dramatic idea
from her fertile subconscious. Dragon was richer than
Dolan MacDonald, but it followed a lot of the same
practices - shipping the same drugs at the same prices
right across the States. There was huge wastage, but that
was 'the price of doing business'.

What if I could change that? Nina thought. What if I
could get Dragon to invest in another mainframe, a
computer that could track what drugs sold where? If we
had a clearer picture of the market ...

Nina titled the project 'Customised Response'. Her
phones buzzed incessantly and the mailcart stopped by


Io4

her door five times a day as data she requested came
flooding back. It was a mammoth task, and even harder
than it had to be.

Simon and Tom kept pretty much to themselves.
Nina's trouble was the support staff. There was no
sisterly feeling at Dragon Chemical. The receptionists and
secretaries, far from being pleased to see a woman
executive, all resented her bitterly and let it show. They
called her 'Ms Roth' and made it sound like an insult. They took for ever to do her filing and often did it so

sloppily Nina found herself staying late to correct things.
But the major problem was her assistant.

Tracy Jones had been assigned to the three of them. A
sexy-looking redhead with wild hair, short skirts and
long nails, she hated having to work for a woman. Tom's
letters and Simon's charts always came before the work
Nina needed typing.

Nina didn't complain at first. She was new. But
eventually she had to say something and told Tracy she
wanted her reports assigned equal priority.

'They are,' Tracy insisted insolently, with a flick of her
rosy curls. Nina flushed, hating the confrontation, but
saw all the other girls in the pool slow down their
typewriters so they could eavesdrop.

She knew she had to assert her authority.

'I'm sorry, Tracy, but I don't think so. I want these

letters on my desk first thing tomorrow.'

'Yes, ma'am,' Tracy said icily.

The letters were delivered to her by mailcart at nine
a.m. the next day. They had two spelling mistakes and a
word Tipp-Exed out in each of them.

Gritting her teeth, Nina did it herself.

Three weeks into the deadline she was seriously
behind. Her proposal needed detailed statistics, and she'd
have to check it before it went off to Jax. If she gave it to
Tracy on schedule, Nina realised, it would be handed in

late or so messy she couldn't use it at all. Gerald Jax
wasn't interested in excuses.

Besides, there were no excuses. Nina wanted to get to
management, but right now she couldn't manage her own
secretary! Tracy and all the others assumed a woman had no place being an executive. They preferred flirting with
the boys and Nina was basically letting them get away
with it.

The bright, polite schoolgirl in Nina shrank from
appearing a bitch. She remembered how hard it had been
when she started at Green Earth, and she had no desire to
be anyone's boss from hell. But as the deadline got closer,
she had no other choice.

On Friday Nina went down to the typing pool at
eleven a.m., to find Tracy sitting at an empty typewriter,
painting her nails. As Nina approached, she brazenly
continued.

'Hello, Tracy. I need this report typed up today. It's
got quite a few statistics,' Nina told her, laying the sheaf
of neatly written notes on her desk. 'Do you think you
could get it done for me?'

The girl barely glanced at her. 'Sorry, I'm too busy.'
Aware of the others watching her, Nina drew breath.
'How can you be too busy? Coffee break is over and
you're painting your nails. �gbenever I need something
done, you're always too busy. I think the problem is that
you just don't want to work for me.'

At that moment, all the girls in the pool stopped
typing.

Tracy shrugged, without looking up. Then she turned
to Maria, a hard-working Spanish girl who sat next to
her. 'Maria, can you do this?'

Nina tapped the paperwork sharply. She was red
faced, but her voice was firm. 'No, Tracy. You are my
assistant and I want you to do it. I am leaving it oN your

desk and I'll be back for it at three. If it isn't done by
then, I am going to fire you.'

'Oh, really,' Tracy said with a sneer.

'Try me,' said Nina.

There was complete silence as Nina walked back down
the corridor. Her heart was hammering in her chest and
her palms were sweating, but she held up her head. She
could feel the eyes of all the typists boring into her back.

Nina tried to get on with her research. It was
impossible to concentrate. She didn't eat at lunch and
wondered what on earth she was going to do. Nina was a
new hire, very junior, and already she was making waves,
but it was a matter of principle and she knew nobody else
Could get her through it.

At five of three Nina marched down to the typing pool
to find Tracy languidly tapping at her keyboard. One
look at he paper told her this was a letter of Tom's.
Nina's own project was resting on Tracy's desk, exactly
where she'd left it.

The typing pool fell completely silent as Nina stood in
front of her secretary.

Tracy shot Nina a defiant look.

'You haven't typed up my report,' Nina stated flatly. 'I
gave express orders that it was to be ready by three. Is
there a reason why you haven't done it?'

'I told you. I'm too busy,' Tracy said rudely.

'And I told you. You're fired,' Nina said. 'Collect your
papers from Gary Bellman in Personnel.'

The room was so quiet she could hear the other girls
breathing as they watched the confrontation.

'You can't do that. You don't have the right,' Tracy
challenged her.

'I've just done it. If your desk isn't cleared in ten
minutes security will throw you out,' Nina replied.

Then she turned on her heel and marched back to her
office.

I07


Breathing deeply to calm herself, Nina lifted the phone
and dialled an extension in Human Resources. Her palm
was clammy with sweat where she gripped the receiver.

'Gary? This is Nina Roth in Business Development,'
she said when he answered the phone. 'I've just fired
Tracy Jones.'

'Nina, you can't dismiss anybody. You don't have the
authority,' Gary Bellman said, sounding worried.

'Gary, I have fired her,' Nina told him firmly. 'And I
have fired her in front of thirty-five other secretarial
staff.'

There was a long pause.

'In that case, she's fired,' said the personnel director.
That night, Nina could hardly sleep. She lay on her bed
'and stared into space. What if Tracy had needed the
money? What if she herself had been responsible for not
fixing the problem sooner?

But she knew that under the same circumstances, she'd
do the same thing again. Tomorrow, if necessary.

Chapter 2


Hans Wolf was right. The amount of work it took to
claw back just a few seconds on each race was staggering.
That first day at Val d'Isre, even with the ferocious
training she'd done that morning, Elizabeth still came
third in the slalom. It didn't help that Jack Taylor
watched at the finish line, and left without comment.

'I can't believe it,' Elizabeth said, heartsick with
disappointment.

".]a. You have a long way to go. Heidi does not give up
the crown just because now you want it,' Wolf replied,
but then he softened. 'You were only three seconds
behind.'

'For ever!'

The old man smiled grimly. 'Listen to my little snow
leopard, who yesterday is calling five seconds nothing.'

Elizabeth nodded briskly, preparing to face the barrage
of cameras for her post-race interview. 'Yeah, well.
Today, things are different.'

Things certainly were different. As the World Cup
continued across the Alps, the British team watched her
transformation open mouthed: Ronnie Davis couldn't
believe it was the same girl: Elizabeth rose early in the
morning to jog, practised with Karen, and turned up to
formal practice religiously. She apologised to him for
being so bloody minded before.

'I was a jerk, Ron. I'm sorry. I'm paying for it now.'

'No problem,' said her coach, waving it aside. Ronnie
was a bus-driver's son from the East End of London'.

He'd never voted Tory and despised the upper classes,
but Lady Elizabeth was sweating it so hard she'd almost
changed his mind. 'You're Welsh. You're stubborn. Goes
with the territory.'

'Diolcb for nothing, cariad bach," Elizabeth retorted,
pulling her mane of shiny honey-blonde hair back from
her face.

Ronnie whistled under his breath as she plunged off
down another downhill. Prolonged exercise, sun and
crisp mountain air made that girl more attractive every
season. They were having to lay on extra security at the
hotels to keep the reporters away. Back home, Britain
was slumping further and further into recession, and his
dazzling champion offered a total contrast. The Ski Club
'of Great Britain had reported a four hundred per cent
increase in membership, especially from girls. Skiing
holidays were selling out. He knew several travel agents
had tacked posters of her young ladyship up in their
offices.

This time she wasn't letting it swell her head, but they
still had problems. If Elizabeth was ever going to get that
gold medal, she needed to go an extra mile. Reluctantly,
Ronnie concluded that it couldn't be with him.

It was all very well, Elizabeth turning up for practice.
Trouble was, there wasn't much he could teach her. Now
she was making an effort, her real talent was coming
through.

She was leagues ahead of his other girls. She was
leagues ahead of him.

Ronnie called the office back home and secured some
extra funding. Then he called Hans Wolf.

'We want you to come in as coach for Liz Savage.'
A dry chuckle. 'Acb, Ronnie. You know I am retired.'
Davis swallowed his pride. 'She needs more than I can
give her, Hans. What's the point of you discovering her,
if you don't see it through?'

'She's the world bronze medallist.'

'So fucking what? Come on, Hans. Don't muck me
about. Are you up for it?'


Hans Wolf took over as Elizabeth's coach. It was the first
time in her life she'd known what real work was. To her
runs, he added heavy backpacks. In gym training he
upped her weights. When she studied videos of Heidi and
Louise, he made her write notes. The second an event was
finished, Elizabeth barely had time to shower before she
was being hustled on to a plane. If they got to the next
stop ahead of time, Hans explained, there'd be an extra
evening for practice runs.

'Don't I ever get a break?' Elizabeth gasped, as Hans
rushed her away from the press after a downhill victory
in Grindelwald.

'Nein. "Plenty of time to sleep when you're dead,' Wolf
told her briskly.

Travel, train, race. Travel, train, race. Elizabeth spent day after day lost in the brutal cycle of competition. The
chic bars and glittering hotels she'd hung out at last year
faded from view, replaced by an endless, interchangeable
set of cable-cars, black runs and slalom poles. At night
she dreamed about run layouts. On planes she fantasised
about sleeping till noon. But in spite of the punishing
pace, she never considered cutting back.

Motivation was easy to come by. It was right there in
the stocky, skilful form of Heidi Laufen, twice World
Champion, and the aerodynamic crouch of Louise Levier,
her heir apparent. The commentators" called them unbeatable.

Elizabeth knew better. She sweated, strained, pushed
her way forward, eroding the lead. Bronze turned to
silver, then to gold. In one punishing month she wiped
out Louise's lead. Now there was only Heidi to chase.
The two girls struggled for supremacy across Europ6.


III

Sometimes Heidi topped the table, then Elizabeth, then
Heidi again.
Elizabeth found she suddenly wanted victory desperately.
She was twenty years old, with nothing to show for
her life. She didn't even have a degree, thanks to Tony's
attitude. In the World Cup, her breeding and her bank
account meant nothing. Talent was the only thing that
counted. And she wanted to show she was worth
something. She wanted to be the best.

Basically, Elizabeth admitted to herself, she wanted to
be like Jck Taylor. She couldn't stand him, but she had
to admire him. Hans forced her to watch tape after tape
of Taylor's victories, pointing out the speed, the technio
,que, the mastery.

Jack Taylor wasn't just poetry in motion. He was a
symphony, an epic. He had blasted through the sport like
an F-14 jet fighter. Jack might have come from nowhere,
Elizabeth thought, but my God, the guy is ruthless on a
pair of skis.

The Swiss, the Austrians, the Scandinavians, the
FrEnch - none of them knew what had hit them. Over
and over, the Stars and Stripes tlew on the winner's
podium.

'I cannot understand it,' the Swedish coach had
shrugged. 'He is a freak. After all, there is no skiing in
Texas.'

He's the best, but doesn't he know it, Elizabeth
thought, annoyed. Jack bloody Taylor, with his magna
cum laude from Harvard and his blatant sexuality. She'd
heard the stories from some of the other girls, and tried
to dismiss Taylor as a womaniser. What else could he be,
with that Southern drawl like slow-pouring treacle, and
that cruel, sexy mouth?

She thought about Jack Taylor a lot. It bugged her that
she thought about him so much. Though she pretended
not to care, his derision at Val d'Isre cut her.to the


IIZ

quick. Elizabeth knew the American was a one-off, a
once-in-a-generation kind of talent. She wanted his
respect. She wanted his approval. The bastard could snub
her all he liked, but she wanted him to rate her. As an
equal.

When the women's and the men's events coincided,
Jack Taylor turned up to the female event to cheer on
Kim Ferrell and Holly Gideon, the US team. At those
races, Elizabeth tried to squeeze a little more excellence
from her performance. She could see Taylor watching her
as she crouched forward, schussing over the finish lines.
His handsome face was assessing, taking notes. But
though she took three wins and a second in front of him,
he never offered her a word of encouragement.


It became ever clearer that Elizabeth stood a chance, and
the British media went nuts. The 'battle of the slopes' was
the second favourite tabloid story, right behind the
rumours that Prince Charles had a thing for Lady Diana
Spencer.

Hans kept her away from the media, but that only
made them chase her more.

'These people are fools,' he snorted, when he caught
Elizabeth reading The Times at the airport. The headline
'Lightning Strikes' showed a glowing Elizabeth after a
four-second slalom win at Val Gardena. 'They think you
are good last year.'

He couldn't afford her to relax one millimetre. It was
the final stage of the Cup, and things were too close to
call.

'Ronnie Davis called the hotel. CBS wants the team to
go on Good Morning, America,' Elizabeth told him,
hopefully.

She wouldn't mind becoming well known in the States.
Maybe it would help convince the FIS to let her do their

marketing. Or be leverage to change Dad's mind about
Dragon.

'The team, indeed! They want your ladyship, nicbt
wabr? Certainly not.' Wolf snorted with disgust. 'We
have only two more races, and you are just one point
ahead of Friulein Laufen. The only Americans you mix
with will be Taylor and Kowalski.'

Elizabeth felt her heart skip a beat under her Jean Muir
suit. 'What did you say?'

Boarding for first-class passengers was announced, and
they stood up, picking up their hand-luggage. Wolf
glanced at his protegee, a smart!y dressed young woman,
beautiful, vibrant, her hair flowing loosely about her

shoulders, her elegant hand resting on a Gucci purse. Her
'forest-green eyes sparkled like snow in the sun.

'They are already at Kitzbiihel for the slalom. Thursday
they ski the Hahnenkamm.'

'We've got slalom Tuesday, downhill Wednesday.'

']a, and I have asked Kowalski if you can train with

him Wednesday morning. He agreed.'

'And Jack Taylor?'

'Taylor always trains with Kowalski. Rick is the
American number two,' Wolf reminded her. 'He will not
alter his plans for you.'

Elizabeth handed her boarding card to the attendant,
smiling.

'You are excited, Liebcben,' the old man teased. 'Just
make sure you keep your eyes on.the snow. Taylor is very
good looking, no?'

'No.' Elizabeth sounded dismissive. 'Jack's the best in
the world. I'm the best in the world. Who else would I ski
with?'

"Natiirlicb,' Hans said, grinning.


The final slalom of the women's World Cup was a nail
biter. Girl after girl swooped off from the s.ummit,

planting their ski-poles, turning, planting again, control
and speed in brilliant balance. Kitzbiihel cheered the
Austrians and Louise Levier, the Swiss now certain to
take bronze. But it was Heidi and Elizabeth everybody
was waiting for.

Elizabeth said a prayer at the starting gate and thrust
forward. Three hours of practice, days of layout study, a
week of videos, all down to these few minutes. Plant,
turn. Stick, slice. The cheering crowd lining the run,
deafening her with whistles and cowbells and ululating
shrieks, urged her forwards. Out of the corners of her
eyes she saw Union Jacks, even the Red Dragon flag of
Wales. She ignored it all. There was nothing registering
except the flagpoles and the snow. Concentrating furiously,
her technique was perfect but she lost a little speed.
Elizabeth shot through the finishing line one point five
seconds'behind her best time on this course. She led the
field comfortably.

Hans slapped her on the shoulder and Elizabeth turned
to the cameras to give her reaction. She kept it short.
Nothing to do but wait for Heidi.

Kim Ferrell took fourth place for the US and Kate Cox came in eighth for Britain, a terrific result for her.
Elizabeth congratulated her warmly.

Finally, to roars of approval from the Swiss in the
crowd, Heidi Laufen was called to the start. Time seemed
to stop for Elizabeth as she reached the first gate and
twisted through it cleanly. Slicing, sticking and lunging,
Heidi tore through the flagpoles. White plumes of snow
sprayed up behind the edges of he skis. She wasn't as
exact as Elizabeth, but she was quicker. With each gate
Elizabeth felt her heart sink. She didn't need to look at
the clock to know Heidi's pace; she could see it in her
rhythm. Laufen was letting go and she was fast.

Heidi came bombing through the finish line over a
second ahead.


115

Elizabeth could feel the eyes of her coach, her team and
the press burning into her back as she walked over to
shake the World Champion's hand. Now they were level.
It would all depend on the downhill tomorrow - the
legendary Hahnenkamm, the fastest, toughest, most
dangerous run on earth.

At the side of the ropes, Jack Taylor, looking stunning
in black jeans and a sweater, was standing with the US
team: Elizabeth walked across and pumped Kim's hand.
'Nice racing.'

'You too,' the redhead said. 'Bad luck. Heidi was on
top of her form, right then. Didn't you think so, Jack?'

Jack Taylor shrugged, looking straight at Elizabeth.
is eyes flickered over her body, but their expression was
unfathomable.

'You could have done better,' he said.

Elizabeth stiffened. She pulled up to her full height.
'And I will. Tomorrow.'


W0dnesday morning, Elizabeth was up before her wake
up call. She'd tried to rest but she hadn't slept much. The
thought that everything was riding on this afternoon had
been too exciting for sleep. She only hoped that Heidi
Laufen had been similarly affected.

Quickly, Elizabeth selected a training suit in scarlet
Lycra and began to get dressed. Outside the windows of
her hotel suite the massive mountain peaks were jagged
silhouettes against the early-morning light. A telltale
brightness in the sky let her know there'd been a fresh
snowfall during the night. Adrenalin pumped through
her. Today would be sudden death; she was challenging
the world's best skier on the world's most dangerous
course. It had a hospital purpose-built at the bottom, to
cater to the dead and wounded the mountain regularly
claimed; victims of the Mausfalle, the sheer drop y.ou hit

just after the starting gate, or the 18o� Panorama turn, or
the plummeting dive of the Steilhang ...

Enough. Enough, Elizabeth told herself, selecting her
training skis. Practise first.

It would be a great warm-up to the downhill, to show
that son-of-a-bitch Jack Taylor just what she was made
of.

Before she headed out the door, Elizabeth spritzed
herself with Chanel No. 5 and slicked a dash of Elizabeth
Arden over the sunblock on her lips.

Not only was she going to ski the pants off him, she
was going to do it in style.


Rick Kowalski had arranged to meet her at the top of the
Resterh6he. Seven thousand feet above sea level, it was
the higb, est ski area in Kitzbiihel, guaranteeing no
problems with the snow. This morning he needn't have
worried, Elizabeth thought as she leaned back in the
cable-car. The fresh fall in the night had blanketed the
whole resort, and the peaks and valleys lay covered with
a thick, unmarked blanket of soft white velvet. The
forecast had been for clear skies, but she was sure there
was more to come. Clouds were gathering darkly behind
the mountains. She prayed no blizzard would delay the
race.

The car clanked to a halt and Elizabeth stepped out,
hefting her skis on to the flattened snow. She was ready
for some serious training. They would be heading off
piste; apart from the Hahnenkamm "there were no black
runs at Kitzbtihel hard enough for a world-class skier.

She looked around for Kowalski, but couldn't see him.
Maybe he was out there wearing an ivory suit, or
something. Elizabeth cupped her hands over her mouth
and yelled.

'Rick?'

Suddenly, from behind her, a black-suited figure shot

out of nowhere and sliced to a halt.

Elizabeth jumped out of her skin.

He raised dark goggles and regarded her steadily.
'Jesus Christ, Jack. You scared me,' Elizabeth said
angrily. 'Where the hell did you come from? Where's
Rick?'

'Good morning to you, too, ma'am,' Taylor replied.
The Texan drawl was cold. 'Kowalski couldn't make it.
He's in bed.'

'Really.' Elizabeth's nerves made her snappy. 'Too
much Gliihwein last night? I'd have thought even you
Americans might give the partying a rest two days before
,your last downhill.'

Jack's eyes narrowed with anger. He paused, then said
calmly, 'Actually, he has flu. He's in bed on doctor's

orders, so he stands a chance of competing tomorrow.'
Elizabeth blushed. 'Oh, OK. I'm sorry.'

'He asked me to come train with you. Rick never

breaks a commitment.'

'I said I was sorry.'

'And there's nothing Rick could teach you about
partying, my lady. Not from what I hear.'

She bent down and locked her boots into their
bindings, forcing back the reply. She was here to train,
not to fight Jack Taylor.

'My name is Elizabeth, Jack. Are we going to ski, or do
you prefer talking?'

Taylor studied her a moment, then lifted his stick and
pointed off down the mountainside towards a dark pine
forest.

'Brad found a route for me yesterday. It's got a sixty
five-degree sheer drop, a tough mogul run, some tree
skiing, lots of powder on the straight.' He shrugged.
'Reasonably challenging.'

II8


That meant white-knuckle terror, Elizabeth thought. A
shiver of spine-chilling pleasure rushed through her.

'I'll want you to stick with me. There are crevasses and
the new snow will have covered some of them. We'll be
going close to a lot of mountain edges; concealed
boulders, outcrops, stuff like that. Think you can handle
it?'

'Hey. I do have a little snowcraft, Taylor.'

'You want to train with me? You follow me.' He was
uncompromising. 'I'm not explaining to some English
lord how I watched his daughter ski off the edge of a
precipice.'

'I'm the best female in the world.'

'You're not as good as me,' Jack Taylor said flatly.
Enraged, Elizabeth glared at him, but Taylor held her
gaze calmly, refusing to back down. He was resting his
huge bod on his ski-pole, dark brown eyes studying her
impassively.

He was right and she knew it.

'You win.' Elizabeth swallowed her pride. 'I'll be right
behind you. But this better give me a workout.'

'Hey, Princess,' Jack said, and now his look was
sexual, flickering over the tight red Lycra, stripping,
assessing, lingering on her breasts. 'You haven't been
trained at all. After this, the Hahnenkamm's gonna look
like a nursery slope.'

He pulled down his goggles and pushed off to the right,
schussing swiftly down towards the forest. Elizabeth
followed, gathering her body into a crouch. The snow
glittered like crystal dust in the rosy dawn light, arching
up behind her skis in a feathery spray. The air had the
crisp, clean sparkle of high altitude. She gathered her
body into an aerodynamic crouch, skis close together,
picking up speed. Jack's tracks were deep tramlines on
the virgin slope, their smooth, sharp angles displaying his
skill like a signature. Thrusting harder, she caught up


119

with him. His black-clad figure was aiming straight for
the forest; he said nothing to her, was acting like she
wasn't there. Angrily, Elizabeth ski'd closer, crowding
him, until there were just a few inches between them.
Taylor swung sharply left. Elizabeth followed. He immediately
took a hard right. She matched him, inch for inch.
Fighting. Challenging. Competing.

Without so much as a glance at her, Jack leaned
forward into his crouch and disappeared. Gasping,
Elizabeth found herself plunging down a sheer icy curve
that had looked like an ordinary ridge a second ago.
Instinctively she righted herself and hugged the gradient,
while her stomach somersaulted.

You son-of-a-bitch! She was barrelling into the schuss
now, beside him again, but Jack tilted away left, bringing
his skis together. Why was he doing that? And then she
saw it - two patches of dark shadow, bridging white
ground barely two feet across. Shade like that could be
covering a ravine, a crevasse. You would plunge down a
hundred feet of solid ice to your death. Elizabeth broke
into a cold sweat as she swung her body violently,
making sure she was behind him, not beside. The broad
muscles of Taylor's back, skiing without even a hint of
tension, seemed to taunt her as he schussed coyly across
the strip of solid ground. Elizabeth followed, dry
mouthed with fear. Now she was across!

Her heart was hammering against her ribcage. Her
palms were clammy under her gloves.

He wants me to beg him toease off! she thought. Jack
Taylor thinks I'll go crawling up to him, admitting I can't
keep up with him! I'll die of a heart attack first, you
bastard!

She settled into a racing position, chasing Taylor's
handsome silhouette in front of her.

'So, how are you doing, honey?' Jack asked as she
drew level. 'All warmed up?'

Warmed up? 'You said you've ski'd this before.'
'Yes, ma'am.' The Texan drawl was relaxed.

'So when does it start getting hard?' Elizabeth asked
casually. Two could play that game.

Taylor looked across at Elizabeth, imagining that
strong, sexy body curled up naked on the rug beside his
chalet hearth. She was stunning. It was turning him on,
watching her move. If only she wasn't such an arrogant
bitch.

Jack didn't want to admit he was changing his mind
about Lady Elizabeth Savage. He'd been determined to
despise her - just a haughty British piece of ass who was
squandering her talent, dissing her team-mates and
turning on the charm for the cameras - but it was hard to
dispute that her attitude had changed. And despite the
fact that he'd rated.her as competent but boring - a robot
in rainbow Lycra - this year she'd been something else.
Heidi Laufen had perfect technique, but Elizabeth Savage
was inspirational. Fluid and fast. One of the best he'd
ever seen.

This run would have beaten most guys he knew by

now.

'Right about now,' Jack said, and shot over a mogul,
executing a perfect helicopter spin. He plunged full
throttle towards the pine forest which now loomed up
over the second ridge, shooting past a triangular sign
with an exclamation mark on it. Elizabeth could only
make out the word .'VERBOTEN" as she raced forwards.
Then she brought her knees together with a crash.
Taylor had headed down the steepest, largest mogul field
she'd ever seen. Her breath coming short, Elizabeth
twisted, jumped, landed, twisted. Every muscle was
shrieking for mercy. Jack Taylor was a big, strong man,
and jumps he took easily Elizabeth strained to clear.

Panting for breath, she righted herself at the foot of the
run. Taylor cut an S-bend between a boulder and a


I.I

shadow patch, heading down the mountain. Elizabeth
followed grimly as he made for a boulder, shot over it,
and soared into a twenty-foot jump due south, landing
cleanly and hurtling forwards.

I don't get it, Elizabeth thought as she flew into the air.
Where's the break in the trees?

Jesus! Oh, Jesus! There isn't one! That maniac is
heading straight into the forest!

She was going too fast to think. Jack shot into the trees
and Elizabeth, terrified, shot after him, hugging his trail
as close as she could. Suddenly the bright glitter of the
mountainside disappeared, and she was swallowed up by
green, scented gloom. Elizabeth was dimly aware of the
fresh snow piled on the branches, the twigs and cones
snapping under her skis. Instinct took over as she lunged,
ski'd, and thrust around the trunks, ducking under
branches, making the fastest, sharpest turns she'd ever
done in her life. No slalom ever invented could match up
to this, and you took the slalom slow, not at Warp Factor
Nine! Elizabeth tried to beat back the rising panic.
Follow Jack. He's got the trail. She kept her eyes on those
wide shoulders, dodging rocks, hushes, branches. A crash
at this speed would snap her legs like matchsticks,
wrench a shoulder from its socket! Not only would she
lose the World Cup, she might never ski again!

Then, blessedly, there was light. The trees thinned. She
swerved right, left, right again and schussed out on to the
clear snow.

Jack Taylor had pulled up a hundred yards in front of

her, resting on his poles and nodding in admiration. 'Congratulations. That was some sharp skiing.'
Elizabeth sliced to a stop and ripped off her goggles.
Scalding hot tears burst out of her eyes, cooling instantly
against her flushed cheeks. She was sobbing, hyperventilating.
You bastard, you absolute bastard! I hate you!' she
spat at him.

'Hey, come on. You did fine'

'Is that your idea of a joke, Jack Taylor? Your stupid
macho games could have fucking killed me!'

'Honey, I wouldn't have taken you any place you
couldn't handle. I've seen how you ski.' He smiled at her.
'That's why I insisted you follow me. I was going first, so
if you stuck behind me you'd be fine.'

'Is that right.' She wiped the back of her hand across
her eyes, furious with him, furious with herself for
breaking down in front of him. Jack stretched out a hand
towards her, but she was still seeing red. Angrily she

shoved his arm away and pulled up her goggles.
'Elizabeth, I'm sorry. I--'

'Jack, do me a favour and get lost,' Elizabeth snarled,
and thrust" off violently, skiing away from him down the

mountainside as fast as she could.

'Wait! Elizabeth, stop!'

Taylor's voice floated down towards her, but, still
sobbing, Elizabeth ignored it. She had no idea where she
was, but the lights of Kitzbiihel in the valley below gave
her some sense of direction. She would schuss to the next
ski area and ride a lift back home. Get to the hotel, calm
herself down before the Hahnenkamm.

Jack had stopped shouting, but she could hear the faint
hiss of his skis some way behind. Glancing round, she
saw him settle into a crouch, as though desperate to reach
her. As he saw her look at himi Taylor shook one pole
frantically. She ignored him. Now he could try catching
up with her.

She was hugging the mountainside, following the
steepest gradient down. Powder snow plumed around
her. The world was returning to what she knew and
loved - whiteness and silence - except for--

A faint rumbling sound like a growling stomach.'

'Nervously, Elizabeth looked up. Not thunder! A blizzard
was all she needed.

The sky was still cloudy, but calm. And yet there it was
again. Louder this time. Out of the corner of one eye,
Elizabeth saw a rocky outcrop quiver. A pile of snow
loosened and dropped heavily on to the slope.

Elizabeth slowed in an S-bend, suddenly petrified. Her
face drained of blood.

There was only one explanation for that sound.

Jack Taylor was bombing after her at a speed which
suggested he'd already figured it out.

Oh, Christ! She didn't know where she was! Where
this slope led! If it was a precipice, she was dead!

,
	Elizabeth turned to the right, back the way she'd come,
and pushed off with all her strength. She could see Taylor
do the same--

And then it came! A deep cracking sound, a slow boom
of breaking rock, with the ground under her feet
quivering like jelly, and small pebbles and twigs falling

from the cliff-face behind her!

Avalanche!

Elizabeth's body flooded with adrenalin. She pointed
her skis straight ahead, crouching as low as she could
safely go. Skiing for her life. Racing the snow.

Jack was heading hard right, motioning for her to
follow. He knew the danger, and he came after me
anyway, she thought miserably..Jack had risked his life to

try and save her, and now she'd probably got him killed.
Oh, God, I'm sorry, Jack, I'm so sorry ...

Her eyes were blurry with tears of terror. Sobbing,
gasping, she blinked them away. She had to be brave! If
she lost control, she was history.

Abruptly Taylor's black-clad figure stopped and swung
round, skiing towards her. Elizabeth schussed frantically
forwards. My God, don't come any further this way! she


I4

thought desperately. But he was barrelling her way, the
heavy body plunging forwards.

As he reached her, another huge rumble shook the
mountainside. Elizabeth's head whipped round to see a
vast, menacing wall of white, piled eighteen feet high,
sliding steadily down the rock face above them, gathering
speed and size with every foot. Mesmerised, she gazed at
the tidal wave of snow, freezing like a rabbit caught in a
car's headlights.

Jack Taylor's big hand jerked her back to reality.

'You shouldn't have come for me! Jack, I'm sorry,'
Elizabeth gasped.

'Tell me later, OK, sugar? Let's go. This way,' Jack
said shortly, and jetted off to the right. Elizabeth
followed blindly.

'This slope leads to a cliff edge!' Taylor yelled, as they
bombed d3wn the mountain together. 'We need to get to
the right! You have to outrun it! Point your skis straight
down and just wing it, OK?'

'OK!' Elizabeth managed. She copied him, pointing
her ski-tips straight downhill, leaning into the gradient,
sticks tucked under the arms. Downhill racing was
instinct and gravity. If you were thinking about it, you
weren't going fast enough.

'Get to the forest!' Taylor shouted.

Elizabeth headed after him, rocketing towards another
grove of trees. Her body was soaking in sweat, but it
wasn't enough. Behind her the avalanche had hit the
slope and was cruising forwards, its mammoth weight
hissing as the air rushed past the towering snow-wall. She
didn't need to look round to see how fast it was gaining a
black shadow loomed over the ground in front of her,
silent as death.

Jack was nearly at the trees now. She had two hundred
yards to go. To her left, the slope finished abruptly,
dropping down into a rocky chasm a mile deep. The

avalanche was closer, closer, gently nudging her towards
the precipice. She wasn't going to make it. Desperately,
Elizabeth pushed to the right, towards the trees at the
edge of the cliff. Jack was standing three yards into the
forest, his arms wrapped round a tree trunk. The forest
could resist twenty foot of snow, but she couldn't! The
breath sobbed in Elizabeth's throat as she saw snow
spattering across her skis; was engulfed in the shadow of
the avalanche. She'd failed by a few feet, she was going to
die. Air shot out of her lungs as the snow hit her,
freezing, heavy, and she waited to be swept into the
voidm

But something held her back.'A hand, .]ack's hand, his
vast palm clamping her left wrist, strong fingers like a
vice around it.

Elizabeth's body was flung forwards, her skis knocked
off balance, right pole ripped from her grasp, but she
didn't fall. Jack Taylor was holding on to her wrist with
a mighty grip. Her arm burned agonisingly as it took the
full weight of her body. She couldn't scream, because her
routh was muffled with snow. For a few horrible
seconds, the avalanche trundled over her back, pressing
her down into the slope. She thought she might pass out
from the pain and terror, but bit her lip to keep herself
conscious.

And then suddenly there was light, the weight bearing
down on her slid away, and as she sucked air into her
lungs the wave of snow teetered slightly and crashed
slowly, unhurriedly, into the ravine.

Jack pulled her up, away from the cliff edge. Her
shoulder socket screamed and she scrambled forwards
with her legs. Taylor was holding on to a tree trunk with
his left hand, his right hand clutching her. She could see
every muscle in his arms rigid with the effort. He had
been a human bridge, clutching her against the force of
the snow.

Elizabeth flung herself into his arms.

'You didn't let go, you didn't let go!' She was crying,
her whole body trembling against him. 'Jack, you saved
my life!'

'We all make mistakes,' Jack Taylor said.

Then he tilted her face up to his, and kissed her, hard.

IZ7


Chapter 13


Jack bore down on her, kissing her frozen mouth open,
the tip of his tongue tracing a fiery line across her bottom
lip. One arm was circling her back, pulling her to him,
and one was cupping her ass and sliding up and down her
thigh. Elizabeth felt burning warmth rush through her icy
flesh as his body warmed hers. His chest was rock hard,
his strength incredible. Jack was sucking snow crystals
from her mouth as he kissed her and Elizabeth found
herself flooded with a different kind of heat, a wet rush of
lust that curled like smoke in the pit of her stomach.

She'd never been with a man like this. All the suave,
.Eurotrash men she'd ever dated with their flowery
compliments and sexual proficiency had never affected
her like this man who was crushing her to him. Jack was
handsome, brilliant and fearless. He was also a stubborn,
ruthless bastard.

Elizabeth told herself to go slow, but her muscles were
melting with longing. She felt weak against such raw
male strength. Pleasure fluttered across her groin. Despite
herself, she moaned softly at the back of her throat,
pressing herself against him.

Taylor's hand immediately slid up over the tight, cold
red Lycra of her skisuit, his huge paw brushing her
breasts softly, teasing the tips of her nipples. Elizabeth
gasped as a burst of heat exploded between her thighs.
Glancing down, she saw the outline of his erection and
her eyes widened. He was massive, not just long but
thick, too. It frightened her a little.


xz8

What did you expect, with a man this size? Elizabeth
asked herself, but then Jack moved forward to cover her,
pressing her back against the tree roots. The rough bark
prickled against her back, breaking the tension just long
enough for Elizabeth to gather her thoughts.

You nearly died. You're not thinking straight. You
can't sleep with Jack Taylor! You only just met him!

Firmly she pushed against his chest, shaking her head.
'Jack, no.'

He leaned back a fraction. 'What's wrong, sugar?'
'We can't do this.'

'We can do anything we want,' Taylor said. His brown
eyes were full of hunger for her, glittering with desire.
Elizabeth dropped her eyes. She couldn't look at him.

'You just saved my life, Jack. I - I'm not clear-headed. I
don't even know you!' .She was stammering out explanations. 'And-we have to get back to Kitzbiihel! I've lost a
ski-pole and I'm racing in three hours!'

Jack stared at her for a second, then sighed and stood
up. He stood with his back to her and took a deep breath,
trying to stamp out the fire blazing in his groin. Liz
Savage wanted him. He could feel it in the hot flush of
her skin, the tantalisingly erect nipples. His cock was so
hard it ached. Jesus, how he wanted her. He wanted to
nail her right there on the snow, peel that teasing Lycra
off her and just fuck her brains out. Kiss her mouth
off. Stroke her and lick her until she begged him to take
her ...

'Jack?' Elizabeth asked, scrambling to her feet.

'All right, Elizabeth. I'm not pushing you.'

'Thank you,' she said, hoping she didn't sound disappointed.

Taylor gestured to her boots. 'Fix your bindings and
we'll get back.' He unhooked the ski-pole from her left
wrist and handed her his own pair.

'I don't need these--'

IZ9


'Take them,' Jack said.

She didn't argue.


When they reached the Pass Thurn skiing area, Ronnie
Davis and the other British girls were standing by the
gondola station, waiting for them.

Elizabeth glided to a halt and offered Taylor back his
ski-poles. He hadn't said a single word to her all the way
down.

'Right on time,' Ronnie said. 'We're going to head
back to the hotel. So, Jack, how was she?'

'She was the best female skier I've even seen,' Jack said,
without looking at her.

'Thanks for helping me practise,' Elizabeth said,
blushing.

'My pleasure, ma'am," Taylor replied softly. He nodded
to the British team, turned, and schussed away down
the mountainside.

'God, he's so gorgeous,' Janet sighed.


	'That guy was made in heaven,' Kate added wistfully.
'I see you lost a pole, Liz. How was the training?'

Ronnie asked.

Elizabeth's eyes were following Jack's tiny black figure
as it plunged away to the south.

'Oh, pretty quiet,' she said.


When they got back to the hotel there was a telegram for
Elizabeth. Tony wished her luck. The dry, restrained
language was a message from another world. The Cup
was so intense, so focused that Elizabeth had almost
forgotten about the real world below the mountain
peaks. She was certain that her success this year would be
enough for the FIS, but still ... Dragon was the family
company. Dragon was what she wanted. It was x98o
now; maybe she could change Tony's mind ....

Just one more reason not to fail today. More pressure
to perform.

Hans Wolf found her clutching the crumpled scrap of
paper when he arrived in her room. He pulled it out of

her grasp and tossed it on to the bed.

'Tony and Monica wrote.'

'So I see.' Wolf scowled. 'Today you do not need
distractions.'

'My father will be so pleased if I win this,' Elizabeth
told him.

'Child. You cannot control your father. Business is
business, but skiing is life,' the old man told her, so
seriously Elizabeth had to smile. 'Think about your
company tomorrow, Liebchen. Today is for the mountain.
Today is for me."

'Oh, Hans, you've been so good to me,' Elizabeth said
tearfully. :What if I let you down? I screwed up
yesterday.'

'The only way you let me down is if you do not try. Do
your best. Not for me, for your father, even the gold. Just
because you are a skier, and this is the greatest race in the
world.'


The foot of the course was a zoo. Press, radio and TV
crews from all over Europe were jostling for position,
shouting out reports in ten different languages. Elizabeth
waited with the others tO hear her draw - it might be
anywhere in the top fifteen numbers, the earlier the
better. Heidi Laufen was drawn number three to thunderous
applause from the Swiss in the crowd. Elizabeth was
drawn number fourteen.

She shrugged elegantly to the BBC cameras, but she
was very disappointed. Fourteenth versus third. A bad,
bad position. A bad omen?

Looking graceful, polished and stunning in her signature
rainbow suit, Elizabeth tried not to show her nerves.


131

It was always bad before a race, but this time she had eels
writhing in her stomach. A few hours ago she'd been
close to death. She'd lost an easy slalom yesterday. Heidi
Laufen was hitting perfect form.

Her parents were watching, Hans was watching, the

world was watching ...

'How's it going?'

Elizabeth jumped out of her skin.

'Jack, don't sneak up on me like that!'

'I wasn't sneaking, baby. You were miles away.'
Jack Taylor was wearing dark jeans, cowboy boots
and a black windcheater with the Stars and Stripes
embossed on the pocket. Goggles had been replaced by
black Wayfarers. He looked just as impressive off skis as

on.

The memory of his hands on her breasts sent a stab of
wanting right through her. Under the sheer Lycra, her
nipples tightened.

She saw Taylor watching them.

'It's cold, isn't it?' Elizabeth said quickly.

'No,' Jack said, giving her a lazy smile. The sun was
blazing down on the slopes.

Elizabeth blushed and tried to cover herself. 'I got

number fourteen,' she said quickly.

'I heard. But it don't matter.'

'What do you mean, it doesn't matter? I--'

'Forests, ravines, avalanches,' Jack said, cutting her

off. 'Remember? This is a walk in the park.'

'For you.'

'For both of us,' Jack replied. His easy air was
infuriating.

'Oh yeah?' Elizabeth snapped. 'That's just great, Jack.
Anything else?'

'Yes, there is.' He touched the side of her waist,
pressing her skin. 'You were lying up there, sugar. You
do know me.'

I3Z


An official marched up and tapped her on the elbow.

'You should go to the start gate now, my lady.'
'Elizabeth,' Jack said.
'What?'

He looked her right in the face. 'Just ski. Everything
else is talk.'


Heidi Laufen made the run of her life. Jumping, schussing,
hugging the treeline on the Stemmle stretch. It must
have been perfect snow for her, Elizabeth thought
jealously, as she heard the shrieks of joy, the football
whistles, the ringing cowbells drifting up from below.
The TV screen outside the start gate told its own story.
Heidi made a textbook run. Dismayed, Elizabeth
watched the spinning numbers freeze as she shot through
the finish line. A new record. Position: first.

Waiting" was eternity. Elizabeth took deep breaths,
tried to stay calm. She studied the TV, watching the
other top seeds, trying to get a feel for the course. Kim
Ferrell came in second for the US. Then Louise Levier
pushed her back to third. The Austrian and French
champions were quick, too, but Heidi held firm at the
head of the table, four seconds clear of Levier.

Then finally her number was called. Instructions,
technique, layouts raced through her mind as she settled
into her starting crouch, .waiting for the bell. Trying to
remember everything ...

The countdown finished. Three, two, one ...

And then, as Elizabeth thrust off down the mountain,
Jack Taylor's voice drowned out the'theory, lust ski.

The run fell away under her, a steep drop before the
first two gates. Sharp swings, right, left - and now she
was hitting the Mausfalle, sheer ice plummeting down,
her stomach flipping over as she hit the hundred-andfifty-foot
jump. If she turned right she'd jet into the trees.
Flying by pure instinct, Elizabeth ski'd straight ahead.


33

She was going too fast for thought. She hit the Panorama
turn like a bullet - i8o� left - throwing herself into it
with her whole body, dragging herself round. The run
soared over a hill and she twisted rightwards, ready for
the Steilhang - hard left, then down through the forest,
reaching the Woodcutter's Path. Her head rattled inside
her helmet, the sounds of the shrieking crowds deafening
her. Now the Stemmle stretch - if you played safe here
you'd slow right down. Elizabeth swung hard towards
the net, hugging the line, going I4o kill per hour. A crash
at this speed could maim or kill, but she felt no fear. She
was soaring. Off at the Alte Schneise - nearly over, but
here you could drop precious seconds if you lost position.
Elizabeth held her crouch rock solid, every muscle
screaming as she rode the bumps - Larcheschuss, swerve
right - a huge jump by the Hausberg! Elizabeth took it
high and hard. Landing swiftly, poles tucked under her
arms, she could see the finish - a racing crouch down the
Zielschluss, she was almost prostrate now ...

She fired past the finish line, heart ricocheting under
hr chest, and sliced to a clean halt.

Panting, Elizabeth tore off her helmet and spun round,
as the press did, as Louise did, as Heidi did, waiting for
the announcement. She'd been fast. But how fast?

There was a second's silence as the dry Austrian tones
announced the time.

Then pandemonium. Cameras flashing, reporters
thrusting forwards, Hans fighting to get to her, and
Elizabeth burst into tears.

She was twenty years old. She had just won the World
Cup.

As she was swallowed up by TV cameras, Elizabeth
caught sight of Jack Taylor, hanging back by the netting.
He nodded once, calmly. And then they both smiled.

Chapter


Tony Savage stirred restlessly in his bed. The girl in front
of him looked as pretty this morning as she had last night - slim, silky legs, large breasts, glossy hair the colour of
candied chestnuts - but he felt no desire. He was done,
and it was six a.m.

He slipped carefully out of bed. Camilla didn't stir; he
didn't want her to spoil things by waking up and starting
to talk. She was a great lay, but that braying voice
annoyed h4m. Not to mention the whining she was likely
to do with it.

Tony dressed quickly. He kept one eye speculatively on
the fuzz between Camilla's legs, but his mind was already
elsewhere. His research team were presenting today on
slimming drugs. It was the holy grail of pharmaceuticals.
The first firm to develop a safe slimming drug would own
the biggest moneyspinner since aspirin. Conventional
wisdom was that it couldn't be done, but Tony didn't
believe that. And then there was Elizabeth. Her demands
to work at Dragon were getting more insistent, and this
time, she had some leverage. She was World Champion;
famous. If she made a fuss, the press would notice it. Run
stories. Embarrass him. Dredge up the past...

A quick burst of anger sizzled through him. Blackmail,
it was blackmail. Liz wouldn't let it go. Standing there in
Kitzbihel, a gold medal round her neck, defying him.
Like Louise ...

With an effort Tony pulled his mind away and fastened
his cufflinks. Nothing for it, he'd have to fob her off.'


3 5

Maybe a taste of work would actually calm Elizabeth
down. Switzerland had settled her, hadn't it? And there
was Jack Taylor, a Texan, lots of money, Harvard.
Apparently interested. He could do worse; Taylor was no
duke, but then again, America was thousands of miles
away. If he could pack DeFries's bastard off to the South,
maybe he could forget about her. Those Southern men
kept their women in line. Yes, maybe it would be
expedient to keep Elizabeth sweet, for once.

Tony's elbow knocked a crystal champagne flute on to
the ground. There was a dull thud on the thick carpet,
but it was enough to wake Camilla. He sighed as she
propped herself up sleepily, magnificent tits swaying
slightly as she turned to accuse him.

' 'Darling, you're not leaving already! It's only, my God,
it's only six.' The horsy Berkshire tones turned plaintive.

'You were going to leave without saying goodbye ...'
'I didn't want to wake you,' Tony said coldly.
'When will I see you again?'

'I'm not sure. I'll call you today.'


	'When?'

'When I can,' Tony said, and let himself out of the
suite. He could shower and shave at the office; there was
always a freshly pressed outfit ready for him there.

Downstairs in the lobby Tony settled the bill. 'Have
breakfast delivered to my guest at half-seven.' He wanted
her out of there, but there was no point in being too
harsh. Breakfast was a neat way to say it.

'Very good, my lord.' The receptionist's face was as
blank as a discreet British hotelier's could be.

'Send up some champagne and some flowers. Not
roses.'

'Yes, m'lord. Any message?'

'No,' Tony said, passing over his gold Amex.

As he strode out to a waiting taxi, the clerk shook his
head in admiration. No false names, separate s.uites or

136


embarrassment for Caerhaven. You had to give it to his
lordship, he was a cool bastard. Flowers and champagne;
he wondered lasciviously just how the latest bit of fluff
had earned them.


'Where to, guy?'

Tony relaxed slightly as the cab drew away from the
Ritz and headed down Piccadilly. At this time in the
morning traffic was sparse; they should be on the South
Bank in less than ten minutes. He made a mental note to
ring Camilla before lunch and finish with her. A pair of
diamond earrings, a line about feeling guilt towards
Monica, that should do it. He was bored of her; she was
clingy and tiresome when she wasn't performing. And
good as she was, he'd had better. She wouldn't cut up
rough if she knew what was good for her. Her father
worked gor one of his subsidiaries, her brother for
another. Anyway, Camilla was pliant and nervy, another
reason he'd picked her:

Tony had other business this morning. First, a quick
call to Los Angeles, to check in with Jax, out on the West
Coast. Get the vibe on New York; the stock was jittery
on the Street and he wanted to know why. Also, to see if
their latest crop of bright boys had come up with
anything in the initial brainstorming period.

The Dragon building loomed massive in the predawn
twilight. Tony paid the cab and stepped into the deserted
place, nodding at the security guard's obsequious greeting.
He ordered coffee, toast, marmalade and crisp bacon
sent up from the kitchen and then took the executive
elevator to his private office. It was good to get in early;
it added to his intoxicating sense of control. Today the frisson of power was particularly enjoyable. He felt
lustful. Wondered about Camilla's replacement. Whoever
she might be.


I37

Nina walked in to work feeling nervous. She knew she
wasn't alone there: every man of the new Dragon intake
had submitted their reports on Friday. Jax would have
leafed through them this weekend and today they got
their results. Everyone was on a two-monther, so unless
you got it renewed today, it was a case of clear your desk
and sayonara.

She was wearing a short dress with a cropped jacket,
cream cotton with navy piping, and navy pumps. She'd taken extra care this morning with her make-up, her dark
hair and eyes set off with subtle shades, charcoal around
the eyes, matt plum lipstick and tinted moisturiser to
smooth out the .skin. Her thick, dark hair had been cut
and curled under at the edges in a sleek pageboy. If she

' was going to get fired, it would help her out to look good.
She'd be stronger about it.

Nina walked into her tiny office. Her desk was almost
totally clear; she'd done that Friday night. There couldn't
be anything worse than standing there, maybe crying,
ladling your personal effects into a black plastic bag
�hile the secretaries watched. This way, if Jax handed
her her pink slip, she could just ride the elevator down to
the lobby and walk smartly out the door.

Simon and Tom were laughing together in Tom's
office. She could hear the thuds as the boys lobbed paper
at Tom's basketball hoop; obviously they had a bit more
confidence than she did.

It's not the project, Nina reminded herself. 'Customised
Response' was good, computerisation was her bag,
she knew it would be effective. It was the fact that she'd
exceeded her authority. Fired Tracy Jones last Friday, in
public, forcing Gary Bellman to back her up. Gary
Bellman, a division chief! Gary had been ftirious and she
knew Jax would have seen what she'd done. Women in
Dragon were expected to keep their heads down.
Already, they'd see her as a troublemaker.


x38

Eventually, there came the rattle of the mailcart from
the corridor. Stopping at Tom's office. She heard muffled
speech, then whoops of glee. New contracts for those
two, then.

There was the knock on her own door. Heart hammering,
Nina pulled it open to be faced with Abdul. He was
handing her a small, thin envelope; didn't look like a
contract.

'Is this all? You're sure?' Maybe she'd been expecting it
but her heart plunged.

'Yes, ma'am. Sorry.'

Great, now the mailboy's feeling sorry for me, Nina
thought dully. It was a memo envelope and she ripped it
open. From Jax himself. 'Nina, please come to this office
at ten a.m. sharp.'

Would Dolan take her back? God, why couldn't she
have just put up with it? Now she was not only getting
the can, she was going to get carpeted first. Wonderful.
Simon and Tom must have realised by her silence what
the score was, but they weren't exactly hurrying in to
comfort her. That was business here: failure was
regarded as an infectious disease.

Sighing, she looked at her watch. Best get it over with.
Nina picked up her bag and closed the office door behind
her, heading for the elevator bank.


Jax's secretary looked at Nina gleefully. She must have
heard about the Tracy thing too.

She recognised Jack Fletcher,-new at Accounts, as he
stormed out of the office, his face white. Clearly, another
candidate for the black plastic binliner and the cab home.

The secretary buzzed her boss. 'I have Nina Roth for
you.' She listened a second, then, 'You can go in, Ms
Roth,' like butter wouldn't melt.

Actually Nina was grateful for the hostility. No danger
of dissolving into tears when that was their attitude; pity


139

would have been a lot worse. She squared her shoulders
under the cream cotton and marched into Jax's office.

The boss was sitting behind a heavy oak desk, his
room decorated in clubby burgundy leather and dark
woods. It was so traditional and masculine Nina almost
expected to smell cigars.

Jax waved her. to a seat. He had a file open in front of

him; her project.

'This is good work,' he said.

Nina was so shocked she didn't say a word.

'Precise and focused,' Jax went on, and she carefully
wiped the astonishment off her face. 'You didn't try
anything too flashy, but this could save us a good lot of
overhead. It's similar to what you did at Dolan, but that's

'
	OK. This isn't the movies, you don't get Oscars for
creativity. We can use it.'

'Thank you, sir,' Nina said.

Jax looked the girl over appreciatively. A cool customer,
this kid. She must have figured she was getting
fired, but look at her. All poise and calm. A real beauty,
t6o, in that understated way, dark hair, sharp cheekbones,
huge black eyes. You couldn't tell what she was
thinking, with that alabaster mask up all the time. And
no matter how she dressed, she couldn't hide those
curves. He felt desire ripple through him, mixed with
annoyance. It would have been great to have her stay
here. Under his authority.

'You fired your secretary Friday.'

'Yes, sir.' Nina's hopes sank again.

'You had no authority to dismiss another member of

staff. Tracy Jones reported to Mrs Harris in Support
Staff, even if she was assigned to you. Discipline is
undertaken by the relevant department head and Personnel.
Mr Bellman's office was furious.'

'But she defied me openly.'

'So you fired her, just like that?'


I4o

Nina squirmed. 'No, of course not. It was the end of a
long line of incidents.'

'I see.' Jax's voice was mercilessly cold. 'So you had
previously discussed this problem with - which one of
Ms Jones's supervisors?'

'I didn't.' Now, it sounded impulsive and childish.
Nina couldn't help herself, she blushed a rich red. 'I guess
I thought I could handle it myself. I thought I had to, as

a--'

'As a what?' Jax demanded.

Nina couldn't bring herself to come right out and say,
'as a woman'. She knew Jax knew exactly what she
meant.

'Well. Your action was certainly decisive, Nina, but it
was way out of line. Next time, contact somebody
appropriate.'

Next time? It sank in: she wasn't getting fired. She felt
almost light-headed with relief.

'Oh, yes, sir. I'll contact Mr Bellman's office right
away--'

'It won't be Mr Bellman,' Jax said.

'I'm sorry, I don't understand.'

'It'll be Mr Keith Sweeney. In London.'

'London?' Nina gasped, startled out of her composure.
'I'm being posted to London?'

'That's right. The earl saw your report and requested
you personally.' Jax leaned forward. 'That's not a
problem, Nina, is it? You don't have any family here, or
property? Nothing you can't leave behind?'

'No.' Nina bit her lips to stop i stupid grin from
spreading right across her face. 'Nothing at all.'

'Good. The firm will pay rent on your apartment while
you're away. You'd better take the rest of the day off to
pack.'

'When am I leaving?'

'Tomorrow morning. Nine thirty out of JFK.' Jax'


4x

allowed himself a small smile at the girl's shocked face.
'This is Dragon Chemical, Nina, we move fast here.'


Elizabeth smiled and bowed for the millionth time that
evening. If her calves and quads were supple and limber,
the muscles in her cheeks were definitely starting to ache.
At least they'd cleared out the photographers, finally, and
now the athletes present were helping themselves to
champagne, starting to loosen up to celebrate.

It was the US team's victory ball. Schloss Lebenberg,
the modernised castle that was their team's hotel, had
been taken over. Everywhere from the casino to the pool
was draped with vast Stars and Stripes and blowup
photos of the team. Jack Taylor had insisted on it; the
most he would do solo was pose with the medal for the
networks. The States were trumpeting their triumph from
the rooftops, as usual, Elizabeth thought, amused. One
individual gold, and already the TV stations, sports
people, even food chains were begging to throw sponsorship
at them. The British camp had its feet on the ground.
"After all, the Alpine nations were still skiing them off the
snow in the team events.

Still, it was fun, to come out and party. She'd almost
forgotten how to do it. Elizabeth's dark blonde hair hung
loosely down her back; her dress was a gorgeous, slim
column of white silk and gold thread, spiralling into a
loose fishtail. She danced the first stately waltz with Hans
Wolf, to huge cheers, then whirled gracefully round with
Ronnie Davis, Brad Hinds, Pete, Sam and Rick. Everywhere
she went people murmured appreciatively,
pumped her hand, asked for her autograph. Elizabeth
told herself she was having a good time. She wasn't going
to be put out just because a certain person hadn't come to
find her. After the joint photocall, Jack Taylor had
disappeared. Probably with some groupie.

I'm not disappointed, I'm the World Ch.ampion,

Elizabeth thought fiercely. Who does he think he is,
anyway? Arrogant bastard!

She reached for another flute of champagne and then
stiffened. Someone was resting their hand on the tight
curve of her back. Angrily Elizabeth whipped around to
be confronted by Jack, his tall frame bang up against her.
His white shirt was unbuttoned at the top, displaying a
tanned chest and just a smattering of hair. He looked
relaxed.

'Congratulations,' Jack said softly.

'And to you.' She was stiff with him.

'You been looking for me?' Jack asked. He reached
down and made to brush some hair away from her cheek
but Elizabeth pulled back sharply. God! He thinks he's
God's gift, the infuriating jerk! But Jack did look
wonderful, the formal dark cloth picking out his eyes, the
confidence the aggression. Stuff had already passed
between them that couldn't be taken back. Even if she
had skied away down that mountain, Elizabeth knew,
she'd lain under him, responded to him. Her nipples had
stiffened under his hands, her body had flooded with heat
for him. He knew it. She knew it.

'And why would I be doing that?' Elizabeth snapped.
Jack laughed. 'Thought you might like to dance.'
'I've done nothing but dance.'
'With me,' Taylor insisted.

'Well, I've had to make do with the lesser gentlemen
that were on offer,' Elizabeth answered icily.

They were standing close to-the dance floor. Skiers,
their coaches and families were whirling around merrily
and clumsily to 'She Wore a Yellow Ribbon'.

'Come on.' Taylor held out one large hand for
Elizabeth's tiny one. He was looking her right in the face
with insistent, come-to-bed eyes. She felt a new flood of
lust, no doubt about it. Strong arms, he had. Elizabeth
badly wanted to be held by them. Pinned down again,


143

made love to. The certainty that Jack would be great in
bed mingled with the certainty that he'd done this to
loads of women before, and that they'd all been eager to
comply.

Her bodice was reinforced satin. Her hardening nipples
would not betray her this time. He owed her an apology.
Right now he's acting like he's got some right to me,
Elizabeth thought crossly.

'I'm sorry. I'm feeling a little tired.'

Jack let his hand drop, annoyed. 'Please, girl. Stop
playing games.'

'Excuse me?' Elizabeth said, coldly.

Jack bristled. This wasn't going the way he'd planned

it at all. So he'd had a few drinks before coming to find
'her, so what? He'd noticed her casing the crowd.

Certainly she was looking for him. They could dance, sip
a little champagne together, go upstairs. Women, he
hated it when they got coy.

'I booked a private suite here especially,' he said.
'There's no point, Elizabeth, I know how you feel.'

"A private suite. He was planning on hauling me into
bed? Elizabeth's brows knitted together.

'Clearly you've got no idea how I feel, Mr Taylor.' She
drew herself up, took a step back from him. 'I wouldn't
place too much emphasis on what happened earlier. It

was a near-death experience, I wasn't thinking.'

'Yeah. I liked that,' Jack said.

They were interrupted by a .waiter heading towards
them with a salver. On it was a thin yellow envelope: a
telegram.

'Excuse me, my lady, but it's a message from your
father.'

'Thank you.'

Jack stood back, seething with irritation, as Elizabeth
ripped it open. She read the message quickly, then looked
up at him.


x44

'I'm afraid I have to say goodbye. I've got to get back
to the hotel. Dad wants me to come home tomorrow
morning: he's going to give me a job at Dragon,'
Elizabeth said triumphantly.

Jack read the exhilaration in her tone. Was there
something else there? Regret? Hey, clutching at straws
now, champ, he chided himself. He wanted to kick
something. He was angry. Frustrated.

With an effort he made her a little bow. 'Then allow
me to escort you home.'

'Thank you, I can manage.'

'I insist.' Jack took Elizabeth's elbow and steered her
towards the cloakroom. Normally, when a girl got an
attitude he lost interest, but right now he was dreaming
up excuses to be in London.

Jack Taylor looked down at Lady Elizabeth Savage,
walking-stiffly at his side, refusing to look at him. Maybe
she'd blown him off tonight, but only tonight. He had her
down as unfinished business. He'd never lost a battle of
wills with a woman, and he wasn't gonna start now.

x45


Chapter 1 5


Nina looked round her new apartment and smiled. Two
bedrooms, a tiled bathroom and neat, fitted kitchen, in a
tree-lined Camden street. She had selected it from a list of
company-approved flats, as the English called them, and
eighty per cent of the rent would be coming out of her
overseas living allowance. Then there was the displace�
'ment bonus, the relocation expenses scheme and her rise
for signing the new contract. Dragon had locked her up
for five years, but they were paying handsomely for the
privilege. She'd never seen anything like this in her life.
Tom and Simon and her old colleagues back in New
York were probably used to it, but after years of walkupS,
living over stores and in rank motels, Delancey
Street was a palace.

On the plane she had done the sums in her head. She
was going to be very comfortable; the allowances, the
rise, and the strength of the dollar would see to that.
Britain had just emerged from years of socialist government,
the country was in a mess, and the austerity
measures employed by the new Prime Minister had
plunged it into deep recession. Inflation was still high, but
she was being paid abroad. Her dollars would go even
further. She'd winced when she paid the bill on her new
wardrobe - dark blue suits, smart heels, severe dresses
and jackets in pinstripes, burgundy, black and chocolate
brown - but then realised that it would barely dent her
new monthly cheque.

The weather outside was gloomy - grey skies and


I46

threatening rain. Nina could not have cared less. Camden
was funky, full of musicians, long-haired students, stylish
rood artists blasting the Jam. And Britain was full of
opportunity. Nothing like the Queen-and-cucumber- sandwiches image back home - a woman could even be
Prime Minister here. A woman President seemed about as
likely as a man giving birth. Clive Sinclair had launched
the ZX-81, a tiny home computer that played games and
ran programmes off tape recorders. It was a big craze.
They were wired here, they were going places. London
was the city both of punk and princesses - Lady Di
souvenirs from the summer's big royal wedding adorned
every market stall - and the City was the financial centre
of Europe.

She'd had three days to settle in. Today was the first at
work. Nina felt a rush of nerves, but they were swamped
in her bolting excitement. Dragon HQ, after all, was not
in Park Avenue, it was right here, south of the River
Thames. She was going to work in the heart of the
company, directly for the earl. Tony Savage, the Robber
Baron, had ordered this posting personally.

Nina picked up her briefcase and set off for the Tube.
Even London's subway system beat New York: tickets
and automated gates, no fumbling about with rolls of
quarters and filthy tokens. A fast train would take her
practically to her office door. She was over an hour early,
and she couldn't wait. New decade, new city, new job. Maybe she was finally getting somewhere.


'Good morning, my lady.'

Elizabeth beamed at the receptionist as she handed
over her security pass and a sheaf of company recruitment
forms. They looked so official. Everything was
great, even the wet, crowded streets full of businessmen
barging past her, even the grey ugliness of the Dragon
tower. She was used to being stopped and asked for an


47

autograph, but in the City, nobody gave her a second
glance. That was great too. They were all serious people,
seriously busy. Doing real work. She had been trying to
gain admittance to this world for ever.

'Mr Sweeney is the head of Personnel, and he asked if
you could fill these in today.'

'Of course, thanks,' Elizabeth said.

'New Products Division is on the ninth floor, just take
the lift to your left.'

Elizabeth nodded and joined a crowd of men in dark
suits. They immediately parted and let her stand at the
front. When the lift arrived, everybody waited until she
had stepped in.

'What floor, Lady Elizabeth?' a grey-haired executive
hsked politely.

Elizabeth brushed back her glossy hair and told him,
returning everybody's beaming smiles. Of course they all
knew who she was, she was famous. Everyone was going
out of their way to be nice and welcoming. She felt super
confident. Dad was wrong, she was going to fit in here
jus[ fine.


'Initial tests look promising.' Tony grinned, seeing the
flash of greed lighting up Frank Staunton's eyes. 'Appetite
suppressant, amphetamine base.'

'Could be big,' Staunton agreed.

Fifty-five, Frank Staunton was thin and wiry, nicknamed
the Terrier by his subordinates when his back was
turned. He went after results like a dog after a rat, and he
displayed utter loyalty to Savage, his master. Frank
Staunton had run New Products for ten years, ever since
Tony poached him from Glaxo. Most of his pay was
stock options, so that Dragon's success was his success.
Frank loved money. Self-interest made him reliable.

Tony knew Frank would never leav.e. The carrot had
been perfectly effective, and he was also keeping th.e stick


x48

in reserve. Photos of Frank in drag at clubs like Heaven;
arms round a fourteen-year-old cherub on Hampstead
Heath; getting his cock sucked in a notorious gents'
lavatory outside Waterloo Station. Not a portfolio he'd
want flashed around the Travellers' Club, or the Carlton.
Or mailed to his wife. Tony had never had occasion to
refer to them, but the thought made him relaxed. Frank,
like all the big Dragon players, had a weakness. Whereas
Tony had nothing but strengths.

Frank was discussing the prospects for the new
slimming drug they were developing. If toxicity and
addictive problems could be ironed out, they were
looking at a whole new level of power and wealth. One
tiny tablet for doctors to prescribe, and the stock would
be on automatic pilot to the moon.

'Your drones need to concentrate on this.'
Frank'nodded. 'Including her young ladyship?'

Tony did not return the grin. He hadn't forgotten that
Elizabeth was coming in today. He had to find her
something to do, something to keep her quiet. The
necessity ached in him like a rotten tooth; even though it
was temporary, it felt too much like a victory for her.
Louise's bastard, forcing her way into the heart of his
kingdom. He grunted.

'And we have some others new in this morning.' The
Terrier sensed his master's blackening mood and changed
the subject fast. 'Joe Walsh, an analyst. Hotshot from
Morgan Grenfell. Lionel White, a systems kid. The New
Yorker.'

'Nina Roth.' Tony leaned forward, animated. 'I forgot,
she starts today.'

'She's working in the same area as Lady Elizabeth.'
Tony didn't listen. His pulse quickened as he flashed
on the girl from Brooklyn, with her strong accent and
dark, grave beauty. Intelligence and drive combined with
great tits, a great ass and a handspan waist. Very


49

different from his usual blonde bimbos, she was sexy, but
a scrapper. Dimly he recalled some story about her firing
her secretary when she was still a brand-new rookie. And
she'd known who he was. Nina was different, very
different.

Beneath his sober bespoke trousers Tony felt his cock

stir. Since Camilla Browning had got her marching orders
he had only had Monica and one high-class hooker. He
hated having to pay for it; mistresses were the better bet.
His memories of the Roth girl sharpened into focus.
She'd come up from the street, fast, still only twenty-one
years old.

It occurred to him that was Elizabeth's age. Fucking
Nina would be like fucking one of her schoolfriends.
What thought sharpened the twitch between his legs into
a real hard-on.

'Uh-huh.' He was casual. 'I'll take the first meeting
with you. I'm going to be working with some of them
myself.'

'Then you'd better come with me.'


Nina was shown into Frank Staunton's office, where ten
other people were waiting: nine men and a girl. Two of
the men were in their early twenties, looking expectant.
New hires like herself. The girl was probably a secretary.
She was wearing a pretty little dress in a Liberty print,
and fashionable high heels, together with bracelets and
earrings. Nina smiled at them all.and began to introduce
herself, but she kept one eye on the girl. There was
something familiar about her, but she couldn't place her.
Was she a secretary? She must be. And yet she had a soft,
rich look about her, a polish. The hands were manicured,
the eyebrows beautifully plucked, and now she was a
little closer, the bracelets were real, gold studded with
diamonds. Plus, she was sitting on a chair like the
executives. Nina felt confused, more so when she c.aught

a breath of expensive scent. Long, shiny hair worn loose,
not even tied back for the office. Very beautiful, slim and
delicate. Who's the him? she thought. Sleeping with
somebody?

The men were all smiling at the girl. There was a
nervous deference in their body language. Nina frowned.
She was sleeping with somebody important. Like Honor
Feathers at Dolan, a talentless twenty-five-year-old piece
of ass who was the managing director's regular date.
Honor had gotten promotions and raises so regularly you
could set your watch by them, and all the boys had been
terrified of her, because she told tales out of school and
got her enemies fired. Nina had disliked Honor intensely.
Women like that made it harder for all other women. She
had more respect for whores - at least they were open
about what they were doing. This beautiful rich chick set
her teeth'on edge.

Elizabeth glanced up as Nina entered the room. A
dark-haired, voluptuous woman, very young, wearing a
tailored black suit, flat shoes and a steel watch. Immediately
she blushed. The men's quick glances of approval
told her that this was the right look, this girl was wearing
the right clothes. She felt embarrassed. Now the woman
was shaking hands, briskly and impersonally. The others
greeted her as one of them. No joking or banter, they
were talking business right off the bat.

The girl came closer. Elizabeth heard an American
accent. And then, she glanced right at Elizabeth and gave
her an unmistakable look of icy derision.

Elizabeth bridled. So she'd got the Wardrobe wrong, so
what? This girl looked her own age but she'd clearly been
working for years. She hadn't had to blackmail her way
into an office. Dad's company had hired her and given
her a real chance. She's got no business looking at me
that way!

There was only one empty chair, right at the front, b


5

Elizabeth. Nina slid into it and sighed inwardly. There
was no getting away with it. She offered her neighbour
her hand.

'Nina Roth. Just over from Manhattan. I cut my teeth
with Dolan for a couple of years.'

The blonde showed no sign of recognising the name.
Nina was shocked. Dolan was a big player, hadn't the
cutie here even heard of them?

'I'm Elizabeth. I - well, this is my first job.'

The accent was plummy and patrician, accompanied
by a little flick of the hair. The girlish gesture was out of
place. What the luck was she doing in New Products? It
was a vital division!

' 'Oh. And what are you gonna be doing?' Nina asked
politely.

'I'm not sure.' Breathy upper-class voice was accompanied
with rounded green eyes. 'I expect they're finding
something for me to do.'

Nina was dumbstruck. She looked down at her lap in
case anybody saw how pissed off she was. Finding

something for her to do!

'Elizabeth who?'

Elizabeth heard the hostility and bridled. It had been a

long time since anyone had shown her contempt.
'Lady Elizabeth Savage,' she said coolly.

Nina looked at her sharply. Of course. Lady Elizabeth,
the Brit skier, she'd seen her on CNN getting her medal
with Jack Taylor. So, she wasn't a girlfriend, she was a daughter. Christ, she was just playing around on Daddy's
patch. She hadn't even heard of Dolan, and here she was.
No messing around with experience or education for the
boss's kid.

Nina knew she should be sucking up, like all the men,
but she couldn't do it. The thought of her own struggles
boiled up in her like acid.

'And I'm Ms Nina Roth.' The sarcasm was unmistakable.
'You can call me Nina.'

One of the younger men behind Elizabeth sniggered,
then clamped a hand across his mouth. Elizabeth blushed
a rich red. Bitch! Who did the Yank think she was? She
spun round to fire something back but at that moment
the door swung open and Frank Staunton walked in.
Followed by her father.


'London. Y'all have to be kidding.'

Jack reached down and patted Queen of Arabia on her
sleek white neck. It was still cool enough in the early
morning, but the gallop around his Texas farm had left
him sweating and sore. Pop looked comfortable enough,
but he lived in the saddle. Plus, he'd set Jack up on this
fine, half-tamed mare, a huge beast, gorgeous but hard to
control. Like Elizabeth.

'No. I'm used to Europe from the circuit.'

That was plausible. He might buy that.

John Taylor, Sr, waved a hand at the vista before them,
the green lawns kept lush by sprinklers, the palm trees,
gaudy flowers and rows of neat stables. Jack had loved
the stud farm since he was knee high.

'But we keep the horses here. Main office, here. Major
hotels. London's just an outpost, boy.' The sharp blue
eyes twinkled. 'You're hidin' something.'

Jack shook his head and squeezed his knees round the
mare's flank, to still her. 'I think we're wasting opportunities
over there. Too many Brit and Irish stables need
good studs, we're ignoring that marlet. Waiting for them
to come to us. Plus, there are horses we never see. Meets
we don't go to.'

'Y'all only have a few months off,' John said shrewdly.
'Exactly.' Jack pounced. 'Not enough time to do
anything major here, but I can see if we're missing
anything in London.'


I53

'OK, if that's how you wanna spend Christmas.' His
father snorted. 'This ain't about a girl, son? You got era'
linin' up in Dallas! You didn't used to chase any pussy
halfway round the world.'

Jack almost blushed. 'C'mon, you know me. No girl's
worth making a fuss over.'

'I know you.' John spurred his stallion round to face

the woods, preparing for another run. 'That's the
problem, son.'


Tony listened with one ear as Frank ran through the new
protocols. Most of the men in this room knew exactly
what they had to do. The new kids were thrown in at the
,deep end.

He was watching the men take notes. Joe Walsh knew
the market - he would be ferreting out info on their
competitors, finding out what Glaxo, ICI and SmithKline
had in the pipeline. Lionel White was already sketching
computer codes for a modelling system, seeing how the
numbers would affect them.

Elizabeth was writing it all down, laboriously, occasionally
looking up at him and catching his frown. She
seemed uncomfortable, out of her depth. He bit back a
smile; her defiant streak would mean trouble unless he
found her some pretence of a role.

Nina Roth sat next to her. He liked what he saw. She
wasn't writing, she was drinking it all in. Leaning
forwards, straining at the leash .like a bloodhound, her
thick, raven hair fell heavily round her high cheekbones,
the young, pale skin dusted with excited pink. Under that
sombre suit her body was magnificent. The breasts
looked heavy, but still firm with youth. Her ankles and
calves turned beautifully, her ass flared out from a tiny
waist. Unlike his boyish, muscular daughter, Nina was
womanly, all curves. A go-getter. Nothing ladylike about
her. His imagination stripped her slowly, so she was


x54

sitting there naked. He knew she was aware of him,
nervous in his presence. Her eyes kept sliding towards
him, and if he caught her looking, she blushed and
glanced back at Frank.

The earl was good at body language. Elizabeth sat stiffly next to Nina. For her part, Nina's eyes never even
flickered towards Elizabeth's busy pad; the gesture was
contemptuous, like, I'll never need notes.

Nina didn't know how he felt about Elizabeth. If she
pissed off the chairman's daughter, she was taking a big
risk. He wasn't used to females who did that.

Tony smiled. He'd made it a rule not to mess his own
doorstep, but none of the pretty, blonde and bland girls
stuffing Personnel or PR had ever really excited him. Not
like the curvy, prickly little Brooklyn smartass.

His hard-on was refusing to go away. Rules were made
to be broken.

I55


Chapter x6


Elizabeth leaned over and pressed the button on her
treadmill, pushing it up to maximum. It was already
tilting at an angle, simulating uphill running. The
responsive growl from the machinery blasted her ears;
her space was by far the loudest in the Chelsea gym.

Several flabby ladies-who-lunch looked over, annoyed.
' Elizabeth was drowning out their new Sorry Walkmans as
they pedalled sedately on stationary bikes or trod slowly up a Stairmaster. Elizabeth was aware of them dimly, like
she was clocking the admiring stares from the men's
weights room next door, although she couldn't care less.
Nothing mattered but the workout.

"Her strong body was clothed in the bare minimum. Hi
tech sneakers, Lycra cycling shorts and a leotard in icing
sugar pastels. Blonde hair swept back and up in a raised
ponytail, to keep it out of her eyes. The heart-rate
monitor was flashing, but she didn't have time to look
down. Sweat dewed her body, her fringe was plastered to
her forehead. Arms raised for maximum motion. Balls of
the feet pushing off the rubber with every pulse. Her
heart beating like a roadside drill, Elizabeth Savage lost
herself in vicious, punishing speed. She'd already done
the weights and the crunches, training every major
muscle group in the upper body. Now the endurance

work.

In under an hour she'd be reporting to that utter bitch,

Nina Roth. This was a pleasure in comparison.

The thought of Nina drove Elizabeth into a fu.ry, feet


I56

flying up the mechanical hill. They called her the
Brooklyn Bomber in the office, the men, almost admiringly.
She still hadn't worked out what Nina did but she
sure was good at it. Phone glued to her fucking ear,
barking orders and tapping out computer programs and
talking science gobbledygook Elizabeth couldn't work
out. Never losing an opportunity to put Elizabeth down.

Dad had given her the job she begged for. Advertising
on New Products. But whatever she suggested to Nina,
the cow lost no time in vetoing. It was so unfair: Jake and
Richard and Dino, the other advertising guys, all loved
her ideas, but Nina stopped her work from getting
anywhere.

Anger burned in her face as bright as exertion. Bitch!
Nina had a chance to learn; Elizabeth never would. And
Nina was Daddy's bright-eyed little girl. She worked
directly for him, she was his right-hand girl on the
slimming drug thing. Elizabeth hated the way she
smarmed up to Tony. Those two deserved each other.

She leaned forwards to increase resistance, throwing
herself into the final burst. Elizabeth needed her fitness.
While she was struggling at Dragon, Heidi Laufen was
practising in the Alps.


Tony Savage stepped out of his car and paused while his
chauffeur handed over. his briefcase. Breakfast at the
Connaught had been light: coffee, bacon and toast for
him, enough to stave off hunger without dulling his
senses. Not that there had been much danger of that. Sir
Leo York, his companion, gorged himself on eggs,
kippers and pastries, with a bottle of Krug. Leo called it a
champagne breakfast to celebrate the deal. Tony called it
a surefire sign of a lush.

He had been the one doing the celebrating. Disposing
of Idun Cosmetics had completed his firesale of Loki
Medicine. Leo overpaid. Now Tony was only left with


157

the key labs division. The disposal of the rest covered his
original payment. It was like getting a company for free,
plus twelve million cash as a bonus.

Tony's blood sang as he walked into the building. He
checked his Tag Heuer sports watch. Ten to eight.

In the express elevator Tony went over his plans for the

day. Talk to New York and Sydney. Interview with the FT at lunch. Strategic planning in the afternoon. Tory
donors do at the Opera House tonight.

He was pumped up, he wanted to celebrate.

Almost without thinking Lord Caerhaven unlocked his
office, went straight to his phone and dialled the
extension for Nina Roth.


INina glanced at the scrolling text on her computer
screen. The glass reflected the view behind her, the wide
Thames glittering in the chill winter sun, commuter
traffic streaming across Westminster Bridge, the Houses
of Parliament grey and forbidding in the background. But
it had been weeks since she'd noticed the view.

"l'he earl had assigned her to his own task force. She
supervised Lionel's computer modelling and found out
which companies Joe should be investigating. That meant
research, and lots of it. She had to find out who their
most likely competitors were, and how far their slimming
projects had come; what the distribution impact would
be; and how it might affect their antitrust status. Nina
gathered facts all day.

Because she was Tony's direct inferior, the boys at
Dragon fell over themselves to help her. It was the total
opposite of New York. She felt she was finally making
inroads. The world drug market was cominginto sharper
focus, like a city emerging from a blanket fog.

If only she didn't have to waste her time with that
stuck-up Sloane, Lady Elizabeth. Nina couldn't stand
her: the prissy, entitled air, the super-confidence of. a star


58

and an aristo at the same time. Elizabeth kept offering
stupid ideas, but all the boys here couldn't wait to tell her
how great they were. Elizabeth was rude to her own
father, she was bolshy with Nina, she took every
opportunity of rubbing her nose in it. 'No better than you
ought to be.' That was the Brit expression. Lady
Elizabeth's slap in the face: you're just a piece of Yankee
white trash from the wrong side of the tracks, whatever

suits you wear or job you do.

The phone trilled.

'Nina?' She started as she recognised the cut-glass
tones. Lord C. 'You're in early.'

'I've been at my desk for an. hour,' Nina shot back
without thinking, then bit her lip. Oh, God. You didn't
cheek Tony Savage.

'Glad to hear it. You should be up to speed on the
FDA scan, then.'

'Yes, sir,' Nina said quickly. She glanced down at her
dress, a dark red cropped affair with a long, slimming
jacket, by Jil Sander. Wolford tights, low Cartier heels,
and fortunately, she was already made up. The earl
expected all Dragon employees to look polished and
pulled together.

'Then come upstairs to my office,' Lord Caerhaven
said.

'Yes, sir. Right away'

Nina carefully replaced the receiver on the hook and
took a deep breath. One on one with the Robber Baron.
It was the kind of chance she used to daydream about.

As she stood up she saw her hands were trembling.


Tony's office was fairly modest. It had a private bathroom
off to one side which was shut, and a secretary's
annexe as yet deserted. Neat windows looked north over
the Thames to Soho. The d6cor was light and modern. It
was far more impressive than Jax's clubby cavern on


I59

Park Avenue, or Frank Staunton's expensive art; Tony
Savage, Nina realised, didn't need the English gentleman
look, because everyone knew he was one.

The earl was sitting behind his desk, waiting for her,
wearing a dark, nondescript suit, immaculately cut. His
hair was close-cropped chestnut, only lightly speckled
with silver. His eyes were hazel and he had a broad,
strong chest. He looked powerful physically as well as
financially. There was something-cold about the alert
speculation in his eyes. Nina sensed a fresh, spicy scent;
Floris maybe, the lightest tang, pleasant but perfectly
masculine.

Anthony Savage was the best-groomed man she'd ever

seen. He looked almost predatory. He wore no jewellery
'except a gold signet ring, stamped with his family crest.

Nina had heard all the rumours. Now she wondered if
they were true. He wasn't pretty, but his sexuality was
magnetic.

She blushed. She couldn't believe it, she felt a ripple of
desire. Something she hadn't felt since Jeff Glazer.

Tony Savage was more man than a million Brooklyn
high-school jocks.

Watch it, girl, she told herself, you are out of your
league.

'Take a seat."

Tony looked at the new kid. Short, but exquisite.
Alabaster skin and a long, refined nose. A stylish suit that
played up the coal-black eyes and hair. And close up,

those curves were even more impressive.

He settled back languidly.

'I sold Idun this morning. For eighty.'

'Eighty?' Nina asked. Tony watched the wheels in her
brain whirr; the very tip of her tongue touched the dark
berry gloss on her full lips. 'That's twelve million more
than it's worth.'

'That's what I thought,' Tony said. He was impressed:

I60


she'd pegged the market value off the top of her head.
'Tell me about the FDA.'

Nina swallowed drily. She had news she was sure this
man did not want to hear.

'They don't like drugs based on amphetamines, and
even with those they sanction, you have class action suits.
A single bad reaction, a good lawyer, and you have a
dented quarterly or worse. The appetite suppressant has
an addictive effect and suppresses various auto-immune
responses. I found well over thirty landmark rulings over
eight separate states, then you have Federal liability ...'

Tony watched Nina as she blasted through her findings.
It was good work, well presented. She wasn't
flinching; no soft soap or small talk. He enjoyed the
rhythmic swell of her breasts and the sharp little hand
gestures she used, long, elegant fingers tapering down to
blood-r nails. Her calves slithered against each other.
Despite the grown-up dressing and clever talk, she was
very, very young.

'Hmm,' he said when she had finished. 'So the drug
won't work?'

'Not in its present form.'

He leaned forwards.

'I want a slimming drug. One that they will ratify.'
'Yes, sir.' Nina didn't know what else she could say.

Tony looked at her; his gaze was hypnotic. 'And how

are you settling in? Do you like London?'

'Very much, In'

'How are you getting on with my daughter?'

Nina coloured. She felt fearful again. 'I, that is, she--'
Tony cut her off. 'You think she's a waste of space?'
Nina thought fast. Somehow, she knew that if she lied,
this man would know. 'Well, Elizabeth's learning,' she
replied.

Elizabeth. Tony noticed the deliberate lack of a title.
She had balls, this girl, something he usually hated. In

I6I


Nina it was erotic. Maybe it was the contrast, the
rounded softness of her body and the hard coldness of
her manner.

'I agree with you. I don't think work is any place for a
young lady.'

Nina flinched. It was like a punch to the gut. He didn't
think she was a lady, then? Too common, wasn't that
what the English called it?

On the other hand, he was looking at her like an equal.
Giving her an amazing job for a new kid. Power and

position she hadn't thought she'd get for years.

'No, no place for a lady - o.r a gentleman.'

Tony glanced up sharply. The girl was staring at him

boldly, her pale cheeks flushed from her challenge.

'I could have you fired.'

Nina lowered her eyes. She had the thickest lashes he'd
ever seen. 'Yes,' she said, 'my lord.'

He almost laughed. She was fencing with him. No
female had tried that on with him since Louise. But Nina
was no Louise; she was earthy, she was street, she was
JeWish. Tony could handle her, easily.

'We still need to find a plan B for the drug. Do some
thinking. We'll have dinner tonight at the Groucho, eight
p.m.'

Nina stood up. 'Right. Thanks for the invitation.'

'It wasn't an invitation,' Tony Savage said.


'This won't work. It's flashy, consumer orientated.' Nina
didn't bother to hide her exasperation. 'You keep coming

to me with ad campaigns.'

'It's a good idea.'

Elizabeth burned with resentment. Her ads for their
Soothex throat pastels were arresting, original. Dino
loved them.

'It's not what I asked you to do, Elizabeth.'

'Lady Elizabeth,' Elizabeth snapped. She couldn't help


i6

it; something about Nina's dismissive attitude made her
lash out.

The two girls glared at each other. The men in the
room stood stock-still; you could almost see their ears
pricking up. Nina felt adrenalin surge through her.

'I don't think so. Social titles are not appropriate in the
office. Not for a junior.'

Elizabeth flushed darkly.

Nina spoke up, so the rest of the room could hear her.
'If you have a problem with that, you could take it up
with your father. I'll be happy to call you Lady Elizabeth,
if he tells me to. Otherwise we'll keep it informal.'

There was a pause, then Elizabeth muttered, 'That's
fine.'

Nina brushed a lock of black hair out of her eyes. Now
she wanted to smooth things over.

'I love your bracelet, by the way. It's gorgeous.' She
gestured to a thick silver cuff around Elizabeth's [eft
wrist, covered in delicate engravings of ferns and ivy.
'Where did you buy it? I'd adore one.'

The other girl looked up at her. The green eyes were
chips of ice, the aristocratic brows lifted in supercilious
disdain.

'I don't buy my jewellery, I inherit it.'

Now it was Nina's turn to stiffen. 'I'm sorry, I didn't
realise you were so grand.'

'Don't worry, Nina. You couldn't possibly know about
things like that. Considering your background.'

Nina paled as the insult went- home. For a moment, the
two young women just glared at each other. Then
Elizabeth gathered up her rejected work and walked back
to her own department.


Nina stepped out of the taxi and tipped the driver almost
absentmindedly. It had been a rush, racing home at
quarter of seven, tearing off her suit, fixing her face at th


63

speed of light. She knew the earl would not expect her to
change for dinner, but she wanted to be impressive in
every way.

A three-quarter black Prada jacket covered her dress, a
loose, flowing sheath of Thai silk in metallic blue. The
bright reds and charcoals of the day had been replaced
with subtler shades: clover on her full lips, plum across
her cheekbones, nails painted silver to match her
necklace. The lids over her dark eyes were slate-grey, blue
and black; all the colours of a dark English sky. Nina's
black hair fell thickly over a grey cashmere wrap. The
mirror had been kind; she was stunning, and she knew it.

Despite the long day and the rush at the end of it, Nina
felt composed. Somehow, Lady Elizabeth's challenge had
'made up her mind. The confusion she'd felt in Tony's
office had vanished long since. Nina knew what she was here to do.

The outfit she was wearing had cost over a thousand
pounds. All the new money she'd thought she had was
vanishing in things like this: good suits for the office,
dcent shoes, coats, accessories. As a Dragon executive,
you couldn't shop at Marks & Sparks. You had to have
an abundance of the right clothes, the stuff Elizabeth
merely 'inherited'. Nina thought about that when she
was dressing. How the few square feet of fabric clinging
to her curves would, less than a year ago, have paid for
months of food and lodging.

Elizabeth and the well-heeled young men at Dragon
looked on her as nothing. An upstart, almost a child.
They don't realise, Nina thought sourly, that I've never been a child. I've never had that luck.

Her past was a prison. Growing up in that slovenly
apartment, carrying the can for Mom and Pop. Her
mother a lush. The teasing she'd gotten at St Michael's
for being white trash, well, some things never changed.
The dizzy hope of Jeff and then the crunch of b.etrayal.

Rooming with drunk sailors. Passing up college. Frank
dying, Connor throwing her over. Miscarrying in a dark
room.

But she'd done it. She'd gotten away. Two years at
Dolan, now Dragon, Nina thought, and no one to help
me but me. She'd turned twenty-one a few days ago and
hadn't even noticed until the evening. Birthdays just
didn't seem important. Elizabeth Savage might be the
same age as her, but she was younger, lifetimes younger.
Even though she was untrained and inexperienced, Lady
E. was drawing a salary like Nina's and getting respect
and position. Because she'd been lucky enough to be born
on the right side of the tracks.

Nina pulled her cashmere scarf tighter and picked up
her skirts, carefully stepping across the Dean Street slush.
Her coat was smart, but not practical against the biting
December air. She hurried across to the nondescript
entrance to the club and ducked inside. When she told the
receptionist she was meeting Lord Caerhaven, the
woman melted.

The Groucho was a hot place to be. Full of media
executives and stars, Nina recognised a couple of famous
actors, a newscaster and a pop star. There was also a
division chief from Hanson and the Treasury Secretary.
Every one of them eyed her up as she walked over to the
restaurant.

The atteiation thrilled her. It was perfect, she thought
cynically. Men were all the same, no matter who or what
they were. Some curves and a pretty face, and they were
baying for it.

So why shouldn't she take advantage? Nina felt tired of
being bruised. Of being the last person on the field
playing by the rules.

Tony Savage was an attractive man. She knew the
gossip round Dragon was that she was his pet. Elizabeth
never lost a chance to sneer about her by the watei"


65

cooler. Nina respected the earl, although she didn't like
him, or trust him. However, he was her boss, the ultimate
power. Lord Caerhaven was known for making his
favourites rich and destroying his enemies. She was sure
he wanted he. Well, maybe she wanted him. Maybe it
was time to do something for herself.

Tony was seated at a discreet table in a corner of the
room, still wearing his work suit. He stood up when
Nina appeared and waited as she shrugged off the scarf

and coat, appearing in a slither of cobalt and silver.
She saw desire blaze into his eyes.
'You look wonderful, Nina.'

'Thank you, Tony,' Nina said softly.

i66


Chapter I7


'So what do you think?'

Jack looked at Rupert Beeching and shrugged. He
thought it was too cold, too windy, and too damn close
to Christmas to be conducting serious business, but he'd
asked Pop for the assignment, and now he had to live
with it.

He was standing with a Gloucester farmer in a
rundown stables, inspecting one of the finest colts he'd
ever seen: Beeching was a part-timer with a useless
trainer, but this one had come third in a minor race he'd
attended down in Sussex. Beautifully proportioned,
bursting with potential. Trouble was, his interest would
spark off other buyers. Rupert wasn't so dumb he
wouldn't have figured that one.

Jack thrust his hands into the pockets of his thick
overcoat. The farm behind him looked out over sweeping
hills; elm copses and dry-stone walls glittered under
midwinter frost. In London, his secretary was drowning
in messages from Paris and Galway; his book of photos
and stud pedigrees was attracting a lot of interest. Jack
was a good salesman, and the warm Texan accent was a
help. Breeders were looking into Taylor Stud who had
never considered it before. It had been a successful couple
of months.

Jack named a figure, ignoring Beeching's theatrical
scowl. 'Look, bud, I ain't haggling. He's pretty, but he's
got no blood.'

'He is the blood.'


I67

Jack laughed. 'Unplaced in three meets, third in one
minor race? It ain't the Derby winner we're talking
about.'

'Kerry Stud left me a message.'
'Ireland's in deeper trouble than Britain, right now.
They can't match my price, and you know it.' Jack
looked at his Rolex Oyster. 'Come on, Rupe. I want to
take him home. I'm too tired for hassle. You think you
can get a better price, be my guest, but I'm leaving now
and so's my chequebook.'

The farmer winced at the familiarity, but he also
looked wary. I've got you, you stupid, greedy jerk, Jack
thought.

'You've got me,' Beeching said. He smiled foolishly as
'Jack sat down on a bale of hay and pulled out his

chequebook. Coutts & Co. A lousy bank with high
charges, but in England, appearance was everything.


First-class on a rickety BR train back to London, Jack
sipped a watery Earl Grey and grinned to himself. Piece
of cake. What should he call the animal? A funky
racehorse name. Maybe Easy Money. His fledgeling
operation here had been as successful as everything else
in his life. It was a nice surprise to find that the business
school principles he'd picked up at Harvard actually
worked. Plus, it was a buyer's market. Britain was
tightening its money supply, and the medicine was
hurting. Jack had toasted Margaret Thatcher, strident at
her party conference in a frumpy suit and floppy bow tie.
'You turn if you want to. The lady's not for turning.'
Stirring stuff, sure, but monetarism was hard. Inflation
fell, but recession was biting deep. Luxury, high-end
businesses - like racehorse stables - were feeling it.
Closing down, selling up, desperate for cash influxes.
And here was the young Texan champ, riding to the
rescue like Zorro. A bit of schmooze, a bit of bluff, a

168


macho chat about skiing and sport. Amazing how all the
round, red-cheeked country gents with their gin and
tonics and massive girths loved that stuff.

Jack bought himself a malt whisky and soda from the
drinks trolley and smiled at the ogling waitress. He
sipped the drink and watched rural England slide past
him, the beautiful riverside meadows and thick forests
belying the turmoil the country was going through.

Old money - landowners like Beeching - was on the
slide, and a new breed was on the rise. Young, smart
entrepreneurs, working for themselves, clawing up the
ladder hand over fist. Men just like him.

To the victor the spoils. Jack had nearly everything he
wanted. And finally, he had a chance at the one prize he
hadn't been able to reach. Though she'd been turning
down his calls all winter and refusing all his invitations,
this one Me couldn't duck. An order from Ronnie Davis,
the British coach, to start her training again in preparation
for the Olympics. The whole British women's team
to meet in Kent at the weekend. And Ronnie, bless his
cockney heart, had heard Jack was in town.

'Don't tell her I'm turning up.' Jack grinned as he
remembered his own words. 'It'll be good to see all the
girls again, but let's keep it a surprise.'


Elizabeth tried to get her brain in gear. Skiing. The
Olympics. It was important, she had to focus on it. A
weekend at base camp. doing fitness routines and studying
videos would be a good warm-up to the new training
season, but it was hard to fight the ense of failure that
swamped her.

Life at Dragon had proved to be one big disappointment.
She was sure her ideas for ad campaigns were good
ones, but Nina Roth was having none of them.
And nobody was going to listen to her over Nina, that
robotic cow. Nina, with her years of experience and her


69

in-at-seven ferocious energy. Whatever Nina was up to,
in that search for a new drug, she was given total backing
from everyone who mattered. With her severe suits and
her humour bypass, everyone took the New Yorker
seriously. Especially darling Daddy.

Constant failure had worn Elizabeth down. She stopped
presenting new ideas to Nina, and contented herself
with reading company reports and typing market
research. At least there was enough of that to keep her
looking busy, and she'd learned more than she ever
wanted to know about the pharmaceutical marketplace
in the UK. Which hospitals bought what, which new pills
were in development. Maybe it would be valuable
knowledge - if they let her do anything with it.

' Elizabeth's blonde hair whipped back under her Scotch
House scarf as she emerged out of the Leicester Square
Tube. The cinemas flashed ads for the big Christmas
movies - Raiders of the Lost Ark, On Golden Pond. Tinned carols bled out of tourist-shop windows and
mixed with pop music from a breakdancer's transistor. It Was freezing. She bought some chestnuts from a brazier
stall to try and jolly herself out of it. What was Hans
Wolf doing at this moment? Sipping Gliibwein by the
lake in Lausanne? Waiting for her to come back, in
January, ready to forget playing shop and get on with her
real job?

That was how everybody else saw it. Certainly Nina.
And certainly her noble papa. Elizabeth never even
thought about complaining to him. Hand Tony that
satisfaction? She'd rather die. He thought the sun shone
out of Nina Roth's backside. He was happy to give her
all the chances of real work, real satisfaction, he'd always
denied his own daughter.

Elizabeth strode briskly through the crowds down to
Charing Cross. Tunbridge Wells, great. Home of rich
dowagers and the biggest drugs problem outside of


I7o

Glasgow. Plus dry-skiing slopes. As if! It was like asking
Picasso to practise on a painting-by-numbers book. Oh
well, maybe they were all right. Maybe she should just
try and ski.

Jack Taylor had called this morning. Again. And she'd
blanked him, again. It didn't help to see that arrogant
bastard doing so well, his every triumph reported
lovingly in Dempster's diary, his social exploits pictured
in Tatler for the last couple of months. When she really
didn't need to feel any lower, there Jack was, staring out
at her, his muscled arm slipped round some bland
blonde: Violet Tomlins at the Royal Ballet do, Ursula
Fane-Harvey at the Waldegraves' party, even Vanessa
Chadwick, her old schoolmate from Switzerland. God, to
think she'd nearly fallen for him!

Elizabeth scurried into the station, her Louis Vuitton
overnight bag slung across her shoulder, and ducked into
W. H. Smith's to pick up some reading for the journey.
Nothing about fucking business. A Jilly Cooper and a Standard, that should do it. Her train was already at the
platform and she secreted herself in first-class, ready to

try and relax with a KitKat and the paper.

She opened it at the sports pages.

There was a picture of Jack, his warm smile beaming
brightly at her through the muddy newsprint. He had his
hand on the neck of a young horse, a magnificent-looking
colt. The caption called it 'Another score for Taylor
Stud.' Jack had named the beast Easy Money. Elizabeth
flung the paper into the luggage rack.


The Alpine Hotel was primed for their arrival. A twee,
purpose-built affair on the outskirts of town, it overlooked
the distinctly non-Alpine dry-ski slope and was
decorated with Holiday Inn-style mountains, pigtailed
Heidis and cuckoo clocks. A giant Christmas tree in the
lobby fought for attention over the huge display of'


7

banners and balloons welcoming 'Our Lovely Olympic
Hopefuls'. Elizabeth signed in, furiously embarrassed,
under a huge poster of herself, as the hotel manager
fussed over her.

'Mr Davis has left a message in your ladyship's suite.
Let me get a porter for your bags.'

'There's just the one. I can manage,' Elizabeth muttered,
lifting her small bag.

'No, really, my lady--'

'Honestly, it's good for me. The exercise,' Elizabeth
pleaded, scribbling an autograph and escaping to the
lifts.

Her 'suite' was two rooms done up in tasteless pink
and grey, with noisy air-conditioning that she knew would dry out her skin. Her spirits perked up for a
moment as she noticed a bottle of champagne in an ice
bucket and moved to pick it up, but the cork had been
popped and it was empty. A small note was tucked under
the neck: 'You won't be needing this. Or the chocolates,
which I threw away. Meet us in the gym at six thirty.' It
was signed Ronnie Davis.

Elizabeth flopped down on the bed. She wouldn't even
have time to clean up. The mirror opposite showed a
cross, red-eyed young woman with hair that needed a
wash and skin that needed some sleep. In her futile efforts
to make a dent at Dragon she'd let the gym work slide,
and now she was unfit, out of condition and muscularly
weak. She was tired and she looked dreadful.

'Welcome back,' she said aloud.


The gym was reserved for the team. Elizabeth could hear
Ronnie's trademark growl as she arrived, in a sports bra
and Lycra leggings over Adidas cross-trainers. No point
trying to hide in baggy jog-pants, Ron would see right
through that.


x7z

'Fucking 'ell, Karen, is that the best you can do? Pick it
up, girl, gawd almighty ...'

Elizabeth stuck her head through the door. Poor
Karen, Janet and Kate were racing around a circular
track, sweating bullets. Tinny music, Adam and the Ants,
was drifting out of a portable radio. It was no competition
for the strident voice of her coach, yelling scornfully
as his athletes completed their endurance tests. A group
of men in BSF tracksuits lounged at the side of the track
but Elizabeth didn't look at them. She was staring
horrified at her team-mates. Ron didn't think any of them
were up to it, and all three of them looked way, way fitter
than she was.

'Hold it.' Ron switched off Radio One and and waved
Elizabeth over. 'It's the nobs' answer to Anita Roddick!
Good evening, milady, you've finally turned up.'

'Nice to'see you too, boss,' Elizabeth said, waving at
the girls who all collapsed on the linoleum.

Ronnie came forwards and cast a critical eye over her
body. Clearly he didn't like what he saw.

'Flex. Biceps, triceps, delts -' Expert stubby fingers
probed her cotton-wool arms. 'Quads, glutes -' Now he
was pushing against her bottom, checking her out like
one of Jack's horses. Elizabeth blushed scarlet. She was
as soft as a marshmallow.

Ronnie frowned thunderously. He grabbed her wrist
and took her pulse.

'You're jokin', aren't ya? Seventy-five beats per
minute? I'm sorry, miss, you'll have to leave the gym. I'm
expecting a World Champion athletd to show up any
second.'

Elizabeth paled. Seventy-five? Just three months ago
she'd been a steady fifty-eight. That was an athlete's rate.
Joe Blow's average was eighty. Could she really have lost
it that fast?

'You can't be serious.'

I73


'I can be serious, darlin'. The question is, can you be?'
Ronnie threw a towel at her. 'Warm up. You got five
minutes. Then we're gonna see just how bad the damage
really is.'


Barely forty minutes later, Elizabeth was gasping for air.
Her feet hurt, her calves were screaming. The clock on
the wall told its own sorry tale: forty minutes, Christ, just
a warm-up session normally, and here she was, totally
worn out. Her sprint speed was still OK but her
endurance was shot to pieces. Fifteen minutes of vicious
squat thrusts had her in tears, .Ronnie screaming at her,
the officials shaking their heads, Ronnie screaming at the
officials. At least he'd sent them out of the room. Then
Elizabeth had to endure the humiliation of a crunch
routine and push-up routine in which Janet, Kate and
Karen, three girls not usually in her league, outperformed
her. easily.

'Go and 'ave your dinner,' Ronnie barked at them
eventually. 'Not you, milady. You ain't going anywhere.
Drop and give me fifty.'

'Fifty!' Elizabeth gasped, wiping the trickles of sweat
and dust out of her eyes. 'I can't manage fifteen.'

The coach settled himself on a gymnast's mattress.

'Fifty, Elizabeth. Hans had you on sixty for routine--'
'But that was--'

'Back when you were a skier?'

Elizabeth responded to this .with such fury that she
didn't hear the gym door creak open again. She tried to
ignore everything; the pain in her upper arms, the ache
lancing over her back, Toyah Wilcox lisping on the radio,
Ronnie's cheerful hello to someone or other. Come on! She wasn't so bad that she had to take this shit. Surely.
The floor and her upper body. Fifteen, sixteen ... now the
lactic acid was burning, blazing fire around the weakness
of her biceps ... Another pair of boots had joined

Ronnie's an inch from her nose. She was sweating,
gasping, grunting like a stuck pig, willing herself through
the red mist of exhaustion. Feeling like a tomato with the
blood flooding her face. Twenty-two, twenty-three ... but
there was only so much that will power could do.
Elizabeth felt failure hovering over her like a vulture. She
groaned. Her body simply could not cash this cheque.
With an agonised moan she swayed and collapsed, her
cheek hitting the dusty linoleum, gasping for air.

'We've got a lot of work to do,' Ronnie said into the
silence, 'if you're gonna go to the x98z Olympics. Let
alone win 'em.'

Elizabeth nodded. She didn't have the breath to say
anything.

'Oh' well.' Her coach's voice shifted back into a
friendly, non-business mode. 'Time for supper. You can
catch up wi'ch the girls, Liz, you'll enjoy that. And your
mate here.'

A sudden sickening revelation hit Elizabeth as she
stared at the second pair of boots. Cowboy. Chestnut
leather. She'd seen those somewhere before.

She raised her reddened, sweating face from the dust
and looked up into a pair of twinkling brown eyes. The
neat suit and Gieves & Hawkes shirt could not conceal
the perfect strength and proportion of his iron, obviously
super-fit muscles.

'Hi there,' said Jack TaYlor.

Elizabeth scrubbed angrily at her hair in the pouring
shower. The fragrance of lavender and hyme drifting up
from her Floris conditioner, and the burning heat
attacking her soreness, could not wipe away the sense of
outrage. If she wasn't so mad she'd be crying. Seventy
five bpm, looking like shit, flabby, weak - couldn't even
do thirty reps on the floor, and Jack, bloody Jack Taylor,
actually standing over her, watching her collapse!


x75

How could Ronnie do it to her? She was going to
complain in the strongest language. Get the insufferable
bastard thrown out. What was a Yank doing in the
British training camp? What, oh God, if word of her
condition leaked out? Heidi Laufen would have a very
happy Christmas!

She switched off the water and started to dry her hair.
Miserably she wished she'd packed a few more cosmetics.
There was nothing in her bag but basic foundation,
blusher and lipstick. Not much to counter the first
impression Jack must have got. He was probably still
laughing about it now. Vanessa and Ursula and co. had
all looked like they'd spent the morning at Molton
Brown. But God, she'd only packed for the girls!

Elizabeth dressed in her travelling outfit, a long, simple
knitted jersey sheath from Sonia Rykiel. It was OK, but
she had no jewels to dress it up with. The pale pink shade
matched her lipstick and blusher and that was about all
you could say. It was off the sh6ulder, and Elizabeth
'��ished it had sleeves. Dinner with four athletes and a
coach, it was like advertising her wimpy delts.

She didn't know which was the more humiliating -
looking so ugly or looking so weak! Jack had been as
polished and gorgeous as ever, and he was clearly still at
his peak performance. He could race a downhill tomorrow
and cruise it. Most likely he was laughing about it in
the hotel bar, right now. With whatever bimbo he was
here with.

That thought stopped her hairbrush in mid-stroke. She "
pounced on her telephone and stabbed out the number
for Ronnie's room.

'Hi, it's Elizabeth.'

'Want to talk about it already? Look, Liz, it's early
days. No need to panic just yet--'

'No, no.' She cut him off. 'Jack Taylor, Ronnie! What

176


the hell's he doing here? I want him gone by tomorrow
morning!'

'He's here because I invited him. He's going to be

doing a little pre-season training with us. It's just fitness.'
'Fitness, hell! He could report back to Kim or Holly.'
'Jack's hardly a spy. You didn't exactly complain
about training with him before.' Ronnie's voice was
sharp. 'In fact, it did you a lot of good, I seem to recall.'

'He goes! I'm not having it!' Elizabeth heard her own
voice rise. She felt like stamping her feet. 'I'm the World
Champion, it's my team--'

'Hey! It's the British team, Liz Savage.'

'Bullshit!' Some part of her mind told her to give in,
but the shame and the anger wouldn't let her stop. Karen,
.Janet, who the luck were they? She was the only hope
they'd got! 'I'm the medallist here! I refuse to train with a
foreigner! You get him out of here, Ronnie, or I'm filing
an official complaint to the Olympic Council.'

'All right, that's enough.' Davis's surprise was as
obvious as his anger. 'I'm the gaffer, Elizabeth, simple as
that. You say one more word about it and I'll call in the
OC myself. There's a minimum fitness standard for all
Olympic athletes, do you hear me? If I have you tested
officially tomorrow, you're scratched.'

Elizabeth took a deep breath, frozen to the spot.
'You do exactly what you're told, girl, or you wind up a "Where Are They Now" clue on Question of Sport. Jack stays. You come down to dinner in ten minutes, and
we never had this conversation.' Davis paused; his fury
crackled down the line. 'Your attitude needs as much
work as your body. You got two weeks to get both in
shape or believe me, milady, you are out."

I77


Chapter 1 8


Nina pulled her Golf GTi sharply to the right and parked
neatly. It was the black darkness of early morning in
December, but the Dragon car park was flooded with
light. It gave her a little thrill to see her name stencilled in
white against the wall. 'Reserved, Miss Nina Roth, New
Products.' Last week she had passed her driving test first
time; no trouble learning the English system, because
she'd never had a car in the States.

The Golf had been the first tangible benefit. The day
after that long, teasing dinner with Tony, Keith Sweeney
from Personnel had summoned her and shown her a
range of cars. Pick one. Any colour. Red is the most
popular.

Nina thanked him and took a dark blue.

She smiled softly as. she left Sweeney's office. Dinner

the night before had rewritten the rulebook around here.
As she casually ran through chat about drugs, approvals,
regulations, Nina made sure her body did all the real
talking. Leaning into Tony, le .tting those hard eyes flicker
over her bodice, her inviting smile and long legs. Tony
Savage had started bringing up figures of his own.
Money. Market share. Personal profits. Letting her see
just how powerful and rich he really was. He was brash
and obvious, but it had worked. Savage was magnetically
sexual. Nina knew it was throwing her principles to the
winds to flirt with Tony like that, but he was the boss,
and it was what he wanted.


x78

She tried not to think about the fact that it was what
she'd wanted too.

Tony's kiss on her hand at the end of the night was
slow, toying with her skin, his lips touching her hand just
that fraction too long.

He wants me, Nina thought triumphantly.

She got out of the car and pressed a button on her keys.
Central locking, a new invention. They were all over the
place. Atari games consoles were cramming the West End
toy stores, and yesterday someone at Phillips had shown
them a flat, rounded metal disc, loudly proclaiming it to
be the future of music. In television, video recorders were
the new craze; now you could tape pictures as well as
sound. Betacam and VHS were fighting it out as
operating systems.

'Buy VHS. And buy stock in VHS,' Nina had told
Tony last night.

He had smiled at her, a little patronisingly. 'Betacam is
clearly superior.'

She had ducked her head, letting her newly waved,
softly curled hair skim her shoulders. 'Yes, but VHS have
more software available. Superior pictures don't matter if
you can't watch any movies.'

Once more she had felt his eyes lock on hers as the
finance director launched into his report. For two weeks
they had been circling each other; Tony, with his diary
crammed full of year-end speeches and Christmas dinners,
hadn't had any evenings free since he took her to
dinner. Nina, pressing her advantage, put together a file
on freelance drug researchers that she hoped would blow
Frank Staunton away. It was clear to her that the current
slimming drug was a bust. Effective, but not safe. If
Dragon put a pill out there before it was ready, the
company could be ruined. Like Betacam would be.

And there was more work to do. Nina knew Tony was
chasing his holy grail, but what if that was a mirage? "


x79

Right here and now there was a lot more work to do.
Inefficient customer response. Poorly advertised standard
drugs that were losing market share. Dull stuff, maybe,
but their bread and butter. Nina made sure she had that
stuff covered too. It wouldn't look good on her rsum if
she spent all her time on a project that ended up a failure.

So Tony was busy and she was busy. But that was
about to change.

The building was half-empty.-In the last week before
the Christmas holiday, many staff had taken up holiday
time and gone home. Balloons sprouted from computer
monitors and gaudy paper-chains looped across ceilings.
There was a definite sense of unreality. In the States,
Nina thought wryly, you'd get a couple of cards stood on
a desk, that was it. The Brits did it differently; x98x
seemed already over for most of the drones sitting here
making half-hearted calls. Partly that was because of
Europe. The Swiss had packed up and gone home,
retailers had placed Christmas orders long ago, research
labs stocked with international teams were dispersing
across the globe. Who would you call? Even the Stock
Exchange was sluggish. The Brits were like a bunch of
schoolchildren, watching the clock and waiting for the
bell.

Nina threaded her way through Marketing. Lady
Elizabeth's desk was unoccupied except for a huge pile of
cards and presents. The staff sucking up. Sports fans'
tributes, forwarded by the BBC. But Elizabeth wasn't
here to pick them up, she was off at training camp in
Kent.

Nina paused. 'This looks ridiculous.'

Dino Vincenza, senior marketing manager, looked up
from his terminal. 'Lady Elizabeth is very popular,' he
said silkily. 'Many people like her skiing. And her ideas.'

Nina heard the rebuke just as he meant her to. Popular,
unlike you. And you're stamping on her. T.echnically

180


Dino outranked her, but she was a corner in a more
important department, and a favourite of the Robber
Baron.

She reached forwards and picked up an envelope at
random. It was very stiff, thick card inside creamy paper.
An invitation. Nina flipped it over and found a gold
coronet franked on the back. What was it? A New Year's
ball, Boxing Day sherry, a hunt meet somewhere? She
didn't look to see whose the crest was. It didn't matter. It
was another sign of Elizabeth's world, of her class, her
privilege. All the things that Nina could never get.

'I'll call Maria in the postal office. Get this cleared, and
future mail routed to the castle. Itmay be Christmas, but

that's no excuse for the place looking a dump.'

'Of course,' Dino said sweetly.

Nina stormed off to her area with her cheeks flaming.
She hated "being mocked. Her own desk was fastidiously
neat; since she was Jewish, nobody had sent her cards.
Yesterday she had been pleased by this sign of respect.
Now she found herself riddled with doubts. Was it
respect? Or were they all snubbing her?

Come on, girl. Since when did you care what a bunch
of limey assholes thought of you?

Angrily she switched on her computer and started to
cross-reference. To Nina the end of the year represented
opportunity. It was a chance to get her act together and
her findings in order. While the rest of the company
sipped sherry and stuffed mince pies, and that blonde
dilettante went jogging in the countryside.

I'm efficient, Nina told herself, pulling up a new
spreadsheet. I work during the working day--

The phone buzzed on her desk, making her jump. She
snatched it up.

'Roth, New Products.'

'Tony Savage, Chairman's Office.' The dry voice sent a
shiver through Nina's stomach, an electric crackle like'

I8I


radio static. She wasn't expecting his call until late this
afternoon. 'Do you have that report on the research
teams?'

'I was just tidying it up.'

'I need it now. You'd better come upstairs and
present.'

'But I haven't even typed it ups'

'Now, Nina.' The earl hung up.

For a moment she sat frozen. BaStard! It wasn't readyt
He'd said tomorrow, hadn't he? But repeating that to
Tony Savage wouldn't help her any. He didn't like
excuses; he was merciless to underlings that proffered
them. Quickly she dumped her early notes out to the

, printer and rushed over, ripping the still-warm sheet out
of the machine after it inched through. Present? To
whom? The virtuous smug feeling of a few moments
before evaporated.

The elevator arrived. Piped carols rang out annoyingly

as Nina stood there fidgeting. 'God rest ye, merry
gentlemen, let nothing you dismay ...' Which was great
for the merry gentlemen, but bugged the hell out of the
harassed lady.

Tony met her as she stepped out. He looked crisp as
ever. No novelty Rudolph ties for his lordship.

'I have the basic gist, but it was due tomorrow,' Nina
said.

Her boss frowned. 'Unlike the rest of the bloody
country, we don't deal in work' to rule.'

'No, sir, but I had to do the sales projections and--'
'I told you what your priority was to be.' Lord
Caerhaven's angry voice had nothing of flirtation about
it. 'The slimming drug. It's not for you suddenly to decide
what you concentrate on. Now go in there and present
it.'

Nina looked up into the dark eyes and found them
unyielding. Reluctantly she walked into his office..A long

I8Z


table had been set up in the middle of the room and was
surrounded by middle-aged men. She recognised Gerald
Jax and Don Hadley, head of Finance US. Plus there was
a banker from Credit Suisse whose name she couldn't
place, but his jowly face was familiar - a heavy hitter.

Tony sat at the head of the table and introduced her
briefly while Nina's heart flipped slowly in her chest. She
didn't need lapel badges to realise who this lot were.
Investment bankers, Dragon Europe heads, American
management. The big boys. The guys who ran things.

Men you seriously didn't want to screw up in front of.
'Thank you, Lord Caerhaven,' Nina said faintly. 'The
first thing we have to face is that Steele Ripley, our
current research team, is not up to the job. Their drugs
are effective but consistently unsafe. We must look for
other R and D sources ...'

Her throat was dry. The room seemed dreadfully
bright. Not so much as a sprig of plastic holly lightened
the tone up here. The eyes of her superiors were fixed on
her and Nina had to fight back panic. Not a natural
public speaker, without orderly notes she was flustered.
She forgot company names, track records. She kept
looking at her paper. She fumbled questions from around
the room. Sometimes she didn't even know the answers.

Nina couldn't look at Tony. She had the awful feeling
that she might be going to cry. She didn't want to cry, it
was a reflex action against the embarrassment. She didn't
look super-smooth now; these men were seeing just what
she was, a young girl, floundering miserably, out of her
depth.

'But you're arguing the allocation of massive resources.
Steele Ripley are a known quantity,' Gerald Jax was
objecting.

'Yes, sir. But known to be greedy and lax on safety.'
'The B-28 damage isn't as bad as you're making out."


I83

Heinrich Giinther, Dragon Deutschland. The West German
was bony and florid, anger making him more ruddy
than usual. He'd discovered Dr Steele and Professor
Ripley. 'Nobody has died.'

'Not yet, Herr Giinther, but they would, long term.'
You fucking Nazi, Nina thought, what were your parents
doing in the war? 'Look, we might as well package up
cocaine! You'd enjoy it, you'd get thin, at first you'd be
fine. But in the end you'd be a useless junkie.'

There was a heavy silence. Jax lowered his eyes.

'Get out!' Giinther shouted. 'You incompetent, you are

wasting our time!'

Nina froze.

'Didn't you hear me? Get out!'

Shellshocked, Nina grabbed her sheet of notes and
bolted for the door. Once she was safely in the corridor,
her eyes filled with tears. She ducked into a restroom to
get herself together. Christ! What had she said? Was she
really that bad? Was she going to get fired?


Tbny watched Nina scarper like a startled doe. Her
pretty turned calves flashed out of the room, black tights
with seams at the back rising up to a smart turquoise wool skirt. She'd been scrappy and scared, but she'd got
the information across. He was pleased with the result.
His lieutenants had something to think about. And Ms
Roth had been scalded out of her complacency.

She'd been doing well, but he .never liked any junior to
think they were doing too well. Especially not a woman.

She was bruised now, he thought; that would soften
her. That dbcle with Heinrich was wonderful. Poor
little Nina, how was she to know about his!ongstanding
fondness for a snort of Charlie? His head of Dragon
GmbH thought he was being deliberately insulted.

Tony reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a
folded red spotted handkerchief. He threw it at Giinther.

184


'Here, Heinrich. Terrible sniff you've got, old man. I
should see a doctor about that cold. And now, gentlemen,
let's consider the points Miss Roth made.'


Back at her desk Nina typed furiously. She worked
through lunch without taking a break. She couldn't
afford to be caught napping twice. When the travel office
sent someone upstairs with her air ticket for tonight,
Nina almost told them to check if she was still meant to
be travelling. But if Tony wanted her out, she'd be out
soon enough. Christmas was no protection. Tony would
fire someone at the office party if he felt like it.

By the end of the day her stomach was growling and
her fingers were cramped. She filed everything into a
briefcase and set off for Heathrow. She guessed she was
still going, since nobody said otherwise.

Londoa and its suburbs slipped by her in a cold drizzle.
The sky was already black, but there were too many
clouds for stars. Nina drove as fast as she could without
breaking the law. She didn't want a ticket or a delay; no
more black marks, please, Lord.

The Human League, Madness and Diana Ross blared
out of her car radio. When Haircut xoo came on Nina
switched off. Shitty music, shitty weather, stuck-up old
money pricks! she thought. I hate this fucking country!

But did she want to go home? After today, maybe she'd
have to. All the money, the allowances, the car and nice
clothes, vanished. The thought made her sweat. Back to
Brooklyn? No job, no references ... when you were in
with Dragon, great; when you were out you were usually
dead. People who pissed them off didn't work again. At
least, not in the drugs business.

At the airport she checked in for Dublin with British
Midland and was directed to the VIP lounge.

The earl was standing to one side in the middle of a
knot of men. With a start Nina recognised Harry Cohen


85

from Planning, Joe Bould from Strategic Accounts, even
mousy, capable Maggie Stevens from Customer Relations.
For the second time today she was taken aback.
She'd thought she was the only one Tony was taking to
Dublin, to attend a Europe-wide conference on distribution
routes. But there were at least seven others!

Trying to hide her discomfiture, she walked over.

'Miss Roth. Good. I thought you were going to delay
us,' Tony said coolly.

Nina smiled lamely. She didn't dare say a word. Tony
wasn't smiling at her or glancing over; he seemed deep
a discussion with the Cohen boy. Clearly she'd got it very
wrong. She was just one more junior exec; nothing
special.


From Dublin airport they were ferried in limos to the
Shelbourne Hotel. The hotel was old fashioned, with art
deco nymphs at the gate looking out on a small green
park; it was bustling with delegates in evening dress,
packing the Horseshoe Bar and talking shop. The Dragon
c6ntingent filed into a packed conference room to listen
to speeches; they would be changing for dinner later.

Exhausted and upset, Nina tried to force herself to
listen. She saw Maggie taking notes but this was kids'
stuff for her. Stuffed shirts from ICI, SmithKline Beecham
and Glaxo droned on about healthcare providers.
The room was warm from the packed audience, and
Nina was fighting to stay awake, to fake some enthusiasm,
and to avoid the besuited assholes all round her
trying so obviously to catch her eye.

And then it was his turn.


Tony Savage stood up at the podium and noted the
immediate response. The packed room jerked to life.
Heads lifted. Whispers ceased.

He was the Robber Baron.


i86

As he talked- with enough gravitas for a Lord
Chancellor, rather than a takeover pirate - Tony felt the
pleasure of it all flood through him like adrenalin. His
quarterlies looked great. Recession? What recession?
Look at these pricks, he thought: drab, plump, soft
bellied losers, the lot of them. He knew they'd all heard
the rumours: the debauchery, the vengeful streak. They
loved it. They wished they were him. Like Machiavelli,
Tony thought, I'd rather be feared than loved. And
nobody said a word. He took his pleasures like a City
barrow-boy, but last July, he'd been there with Monica in
Westminster Abbey, a sombre and dignified peer, watching
Diana Spencer waltz off with. the Prince of Wales.

Louise and Jay DeFries were the last people ever to
make him look a fool; and look what happened to them.

As his speech raced to its conclusion, Tony let his gaze
find his o,,vn people. The boys and Miss Stevens were
watching with appropriate awe, but it wasn't them he
was looking for. And then he saw her: a flash of light
blue in the drab browns and greys; pale face framed with
that thick cloud of black hair; a dragonfly amongst the
midges. Nina. She was watching him, and Tony was
amused again. Because even though she quickly dropped
her eyes, it wasn't fast enough to hide the blazing anger,
the rage in them, burning in her dark pupils like fire on
coal.

187


Chapter


After Tony's closing address, the room broke up to
prepare for dinner. Nina rushed upstairs, feeling stressed
out. She knew she'd glared at him, knew he'd seen it. The
misery and rage would not be held back. He had lectured
her and humiliated her. God knew how she was going to
get through tonight.

' Her bedroom was decorated with genteel, faded
charm: Victorian prints and a radiator whose age could
not be disguised by its new coat of paint. But it was
luxurious, after a fashion; the bed made with heavy Irish
linens, fresh lavender and roses scenting the air, the wall
mirror mounted in an antique brass frame. Nina
unpacked her overnight bag quickly. She wished she'd
been smart and brought some Pro-Plus. If the rumours
were true, Joe Bould across the hall would be refreshing
himself with a quick line or two of fine Peruvian
marching powder right now. But Nina didn't do drugs.
Loss of control equalled weakness.

In the pretty mirror she repaired the damage to her
exhausted face. Concealer under the eyes, white pencil
along the bottom lid for that alert look. Light turquoise
shadow with sea- and dark greens at the edges, a bronze
slash of blusher painting the colour back into her cheeks,
berry lipstick with a neat matching liner, her dark hair
curled gently into her face. It took less than five minutes;
Nina planned everything in advance now, it was a habit.
Even her make-up. She pulled on a pair of dark-green
velvet mules by Ferragamo and grabbed her dress from


x88

the hanger. Full-length, bias-cut jade crpe, layered
thickly enough to be opaque, it was a creation by a hot
new Manhattan designer, Donna Karan. Looked nothing
on the peg, but when Nina slipped it on, adjusting the
thick gilt clasp on the left shoulder, it clung to her curves
then fell from the waist, making her look like a Greek
goddess. And it moved like a sea wave.

Nina smiled softly. She looked beautiful. On nights
like this one, you could put on your beauty like armour.

Downstairs the Dragon party had assembled already.
Maggie Stevens's jealous scowl - she'd picked a boring
black velvet number, probably from Next - reassured

her.

Harry Cohen coughed. 'Shall we go in? They've set our
placings.'

Nina followed her colleagues. The conference had set
out tables back to back, dispersing delegates from different firms around the room. That was the point: you
swapped business cards, made contacts. Nina was cynical.
She didn't believe real work got done at these places.
Conference jaunts were an institution, an excuse for a
booze-up and salary-swapping, comparing your status.
Whatever.

The menu plan had Nina on Table x. She checked it
again just to be sure. Table i was surely for the MDs and
directors, wasn't it? But there she was, so she mounted
the wooden steps at the end of the room.

'Nina Roth,' she told the hovering waiter.

He glanced at a list. 'Yes, madam. Just over here.'
Nina followed the man right to the head of the table.
She was two places down from the Chairman of ICI. To
her left was the Finance Minister of the Republic. The
chair to her right was empty. Trying to hide her surprise,
she smiled and shook hands in complete confusion as she
sat down. And then a shadow passed over the table and
the waiter was seating her other neighbour.

189


Tony Savage.

He looked great. Tony had been born to black tie. The
other bigshots here were grey and bespectacled, nerdy, or
plump. The earl was lean; spare and muscular, his hair
dark, his eyes glittering as he sat. Nina couldn't help but
notice the table's reaction, how these gentlemen smiled at
her boss with their eyes full of envy, curiosity, and

loathing. The alleycat was among the tame pigeons.

She had to say something.

'I'm - I - good evening, Lord Caerhaven.' She didn't
dare call him Tony, not after today. 'Aren't the delegates
supposed to be sat separately?'

,
	'Umm.' The arrogant tilt of his head looked down on

her. 'They are, but I ordered that you be sat next to me.'
Nina swallowed. .

'Is that a problem?' Tony asked. His eyes were
dancing, observing her discomfiture. 'Would you rather
be down there, with the others?'

'No, sir.' She was blushing. Although everybody at
Dragon called Tony sir, in a work situation, there was
something disturbing about it right now. The formalised
submission. The sense of his power. And his closeness.
Nina took refuge in a belt of champagne. 'I'm sorry
about this morning, sir. I should have been ready.'

'Yes, you should have,' Tony said. 'I set the priorities.
You follow them. Is that clear?'

The rest of the table were talking amongst themselves
while the starter was laid out. Nina knew they were being
rude, but Tony clearly didn't give a luck. She swallowed
the rest of her glass. She was a mess of fear and desire.

'Yes, sir.' She couldn't help it, she blurted out, 'Am I
fired?'

He grinned. His eyes. flickered down the bodice of her
dress. The look burned a wash of fire across her skin, like
the alcohol was burning down her throat. Under.the silk,
her groin tightened.

'You're good. I can use you. You're just not as good as
you thought you were. Don't act on your own initiative,
act on my initiative. Dragon is not a democracy. You're
not at your five-and-dime store in Brooklyn now.'

The reference to her past jerked Nina's eyes back up to
his. The earl was looking at her in that superior,
maddening way Elizabeth had. Don't forget who you are,
it said. I took you out of there and I can send you back.

With an effort Nina nodded. Bastard, she thought, he's
got the whip hand and he loves it. She turned to the
Minister for Finance and made some desultory conversation,
pushing her oysters round her plate. She couldn't
eat. Tony Savage, on her other side, was lording it over
the rest of the table; sometimes their eyes slid over her
dress, but-then it was always back to Tony. That was his
magnetism, and anyway, for guys like these, sex always
came second to power.

Nina drank champagne for courage, enjoying the icy,
bubbling sting in her mouth. I might be white trash, she
thought angrily, but I'm smart white trash. The best. I
got here myself, asshole, and you were born in a
goddamn castle!

She forced herself to take a little of the entree. Grouse
and roast parsnip. The earl was still watching her. She
felt his gaze on her shoulders, the curve of her waist. The
champagne was buzzing round her bloodstream. Despite
herself, Nina felt herself tense again, moisten between the
legs.

The Minister turned to Tony. 'Lord Caerhaven, Miss
Roth does you credit. She's got a better grasp of EU
regulations than some of my officials.'

Tony smiled. 'Nina's got a top-drawer brain, Minister.
That was my first reason for hiring her.' When the old
buffer reached for more cranberry jelly, he grinned dowfi
at Nina.


IgX

The alcohol made her brave. 'And what was the
second?'

'The packaging,' Tony said lightly. Then he turned to
his neighbour, and didn't speak to her again for the rest
of the meal.


Once the plates were cleared the room broke up.

'I'll go and mingle.'

The earl was shaking hands, but he broke off to put
one on her shoulder. 'No. Wait in the lobby. I'll be right
out.'

Nina picked her way through the crowd, weaving and
smiling. She was dizzy and carefree. Maybe she should
have gone easy on the wine, with an empty stomach, but
what the hell. She wandered out and stood by a dusty
palm in a large brass pot, refusing to meet the hungry
male eyes that followed her.

Tony was out less than a minute later, striding through

a crowd that seemed to part around him. Nina noticed
how tall he was; even with her heels, he towered over her.
He beckoned to her curtly and they walked into the
Horseshoe Bar together. Nina found she was backed into
a corner.

'I like your dress,' Savage said.

'I'm glad you like something.'

He laughed softly. 'Prickly. Let's see how good you
really are.'

Nina caught her breath. The dark eyes and predator
smile were fixed on her, and the desire in them was
naked. So blatant she felt herself tighten some more, the
downy hairs of her belly lifting in response. Jeff had
never looked at her that way, with such expertise, such
pure confidence.

'Are you asking me on a date?'

'No. I'm asking you to bed. Don't tell me you're
surprised.'


I9X

'I guess not,' Nina murmured. She kept her voice
down, afraid people would hear them. Caerhaven didn't
seem to care about that; or anything, she thought. She
stared back at him. 'And what if I say no? You sack me?'

He moved a step closer. Crowding her. Bending
slightly, so his face was close to hers, so that when he
spoke, she was looking at his mouth.

'You're a clever girl, you know what I do for my
friends. And you want me. So let's not play games.'
Savage held out his hand to her. 'Come with me.'

'We're going up there together?' Nina whispered. Tony
smiled; he liked the way the kid kept blushing, eyes
darting about, like a hare looking to bolt. 'But what will
people think?'

'Who gives a damn?' Tony Savage said.


They rode up together in a stately, creaking elevator,
joining some suits and a couple of dowagers. When the
last of them left at the fourth floor, Tony turned to her,
casually, and reached for her breasts through the silky
crpe, feeling their heaviness, palming them deftly, feeling
the sharpness of her nipples. Nina gasped. Her knees
weakened. He didn't say anything but he smiled, letting
her know he could feel her response. Nina felt ashamed
but also flooded with heat. Experimentally Tony moved
one hand down to the flat of her stomach, resting it there,
feeling the warmth of her burning through her gown. The
other came up to cup her chin, and he slowly pushed his
thumb into her mouth.

Nina started to suck it. She didn't know what he was
doing to her. She was light with lust, almost collapsing,
pressing herself against his hand.

'Steady,' he said. Like he was laughing at her.

The elevator juddered to a halt. Nina tried to pull
herself together. Tony waited politely for her to walk out
first.

z93


The penthouse suite was to the left. Nobody passed
them. Tony reached for his key calmly, without hurrying,
but Nina could see his hard-on outlined through his
pants. His desire was as strong as hers, he was just more
used to it. How many women has he had? she thought. A
hundred? More than that? Every touch, every look of his
was assured. Business and society whispered about him.
His girls, his Teflon romances. Not one of them had ever
breathed a word. For a second that made her uneasy;
how could that be? Was it a Brit thing, a code of silence?

Or did Caerhaven use the carrot and the stick?
Come on, girl, you're not afraid ...
The key connected with the lock.

Tony held the door open for her as he flicked on the
light. Nina looked round a gorgeous suite, crammed with
flowers, baskets of fruit and nuts and chocolates on a
silver tray. The furniture was mahogany, Georgian
antique, including a full bookcase. There was a white
damask chaise-longue and armchairs in navy-blue
leather. A huge mirror dominated one wall; oil paintings
the'others. The bed was a double, pillows heaped on a
snowy coverlet; lambswool blankets and broderie
anglaise.

Tony shut the door.
'Are you nervous?'
'No,' Nina said boldly.

He came over to her and steered her into the centre of
the room, at the foot of the bed. Facing the mirror. Then

he tipped her face up to his with both hands.

'Liar,' he said.

Then he bent down and kissed her. Nina breathed in
cigar smoke, light, sexy masculine sweat, that expensive
aftershave he used. His lips were brushing hers softly, not
gentle so much as exploratory. Tasting her. Pushing on
her. Getting a feel for her mouth. Then he was rougher,
kissing and breaking off, using his tongue, biting her, his


x94

hands slipping round her face, yanking her to him, and
then his hands moulding the roundness of her butt,
stroking her breasts, her belly, pushing down between
her legs. Tony was strong: he wouldn't let her force the
pace, holding her back when she squirmed under his
touch, closing her mouth with his when she wanted to
speak.

When he broke off, Nina's breath was ragged.
'Have you ever had an orgasm?'
She blushed. 'Of course.'

'With a man? No, I thought not.' Tony broke away
from her and reached for the clasp on her shoulder,
unpinning it. 'Let's have a look at you, baby.'

Nina just stood there as her gown slithered to the floor.
The dizzy, squirmy mixture of embarrassment and
excitement was almost too much to bear. To want a man
like this'and have him know it. A man you didn't even
really like. But the antagonism made it better ... carefully
she stepped out of the dress and kicked it aside.

She stood naked in front of the mirror except for a tiny
scrap of lace at the groin; full, firm breasts, a sleek waist,
and a high, rounded ass. Soft upper arms, sweetly turned
calves, small feet. She saw the light in Tony's eyes burst
into flame. He groaned and pulled her to him. Nina felt
his hands everywhere, tugging her panties down her
thighs, his fingers sliding into her, feeling her arousal.
The rough cloth of his suit brushed against her everywhere.
His erection was larger and harder now. She
wanted to undo his belt but her fingers wouldn't work,
they were shaking.

Tony reached for his shirt buttons. He broke two
ripping them open, he couldn't get naked fast enough.
His cock was throbbing in his pants, he was a teenager
again, fighting to control himself. The girl was light
headed from the champagne, but even so, magnificently
responsive, and naive at the same time. Passionate but

clumsy, clearly not used to it. If not her first, he'd be one
of the first. The thought was exquisitely exciting. She'd
been worth waiting for. Check o0t that body, those
incredible breasts with the gorgeous, dark-fleshed nipples,
tight as raisins, waiting for him. He could get his
hands round her waist and her ass was out of this world,
he could luck her all night long. He'd been with no really
clever woman since Louise but Nina didn't turn him off.
Her brain would make her inventive. She thought she
could get round him, but as he'd shown her today, he had
her future, everything, right in the palm of his hand. He
had her where he wanted her, and tlaat was just how it'd
stay.

'God, you're beautiful.' He pulled her on to the bed. 'I

'could fall in love with you.'
'Bullshit,' Nina said sweetly.
Tony reached for her.

Chapter zo


The phone buzzed. Elizabeth's left hand reached out to
grab it while her right hand flung back the blankets and
her feet swung down to the carpet.

'This is your wake-up call,' the recorded voice intoned.
'The time now is ...'

Five forty-five a.m. She dropped the receiver back on
the hook and bounded towards the bathroom, flicking on
all the switches. Light stops the production of melatonin, the boely's natural sleep hormone. After frustrating
months of reading, Elizabeth knew her biochemistry back
to front. Anyway, the morning routine was conditioned
now. Quickly she washed her face and showered briefly,
dried herself on an ugly peach towel that looked like a
reject from BHS, and pulled on her running gear. Four
days in Tunbridge Wells had tightened her butt and
strengthened her legs. Ronnie's threat hit home; whatever
else happened, she had to be fit. The team had followed a
set training routine, but that wasn't enough for Elizabeth.
When Karen, Janet and Kate had finished, Elizabeth
would change suits and head back out the door. Five
extra miles every night, then team dinner, then free
weights. Seeing the other girls with better physiques than
her fired Elizabeth's competitive edge.

And it was a good way of avoiding Jack Taylor.
Elizabeth pulled on her sports bra, ignoring the little
thrill of excitement and anger Jack always provoked.
Sitting there at dinner, pretending to discuss business
with her. Ronnie refused to get rid of him, and Elizabeth


I97

just had to take it: Jack lying next to her in the weights
room, bench-pressing three hundred, his chiselled
muscles contracting, sliding back and forth, his jaw
clamped tight in ferocious concentration. She hated him.
His perfect body. His peak conditioning, his fucking
business success.

Elizabeth flung herself into a warm-up routine, lifting

her heels up to her butt to get the blood flowing round

the hamstrings.

'He's got the best body I've ever seen,' Karen had
gasped last night. Ron had put them all through a second
fitness test. Jack joined in, and Elizabeth was forced to
watch. Jack's powerful quads tensing as he ate up the

,squat-thrust routines. His back muscles knotting and
sliding in the press-ups. And his bicep curls, God, the
weights he could lift. Elizabeth felt her team-mates' eyes
just eating him up.

'He's nothing special,' she muttered.

They'd gaped at her in disbelief.

.When Elizabeth hit the machines, Jack was watching

her. She was clamped in place like a prisoner. And
flexing, clamping her legs open and shut for the inner
thighs, Jack had hung back and just blatantly stared
between them.

'Open.' Ronnie yelling at her like a sergeant major.
'Close and open. Come on, Elizabeth! Open. Open. Great ...'

Elizabeth pushed up from the soles of her runners,
swinging her arms, blushing furiously. Remembering the
betraying, ridiculous rush of sexual heat as she sweated
and struggled, forcing her thighs apart, trying not to let
that arrogant luck see what effects his little games had on
her. It was killing her, that was a plain fact. If Ronnie
didn't get him out of here, there was a terrible danger
Elizabeth was going to crack. She'd lain awake for an


I98

hour last night, dizzy, with longing, not daring to touch
herself in case that made it worse.

She took a swig of water from an Evian bottle,
stretched out her calves and hamstrings, and opened the
door. The hotel was just stirring, waiters setting out
places in the awful buffet dining room, papers being
shoved under doors. Outside, the roads were still quiet in
the morning darkness. Elizabeth's blood was flowing
now and she was looking forward to her run. For forty
minutes she was alone with her body, nobody hassling
her. She was hungry, to get back out there to the snow.
Louise and Heidi would be practising on World Cup
courses, while she had to muck about on nylon fibres in
distinctly non-World Cup Kent.

She jogged out of the lobby and stopped dead.

Jack Taylor was standing there, wearing pro Adidas
runners and a US Olympic tracksuit.

'What the hell do you want?' Elizabeth demanded.
Jack gave her a lazy smile. 'To go running, Sherlock.'

'Who told you? Ronnie?' She stopped herself.
'Actually, I don't care. I run by myself.'

'Well.' He shifted on his feet, a movement that
reminded her of his skiing. 'I know you're scared of me,
sugar, but--'

'Scared? Don't be ridiculous.'

'Sure scared. You've been avoiding me ever since I got
here. Which I think is kind of unfriendly, for a guy that
saved your life.'

Elizabeth flushed. 'You provoked me into skiing off.'
'Provoked you?' Jack shrugged, his handsome, cruel
mouth twisting a little scornfully. 'Because I took you on
a hard run? I thought you could handle it, girl, but maybe
I was wrong. I guess you've always been afraid of real
competition.'

Elizabeth gave him an icy stare. 'You're heavy, Taylor.
You're not built for speed. Your muscles are all wrong."


x99

'Try me,' Jack said.

'OK.' Already she was turning the local roads round in
her mind, rewriting the course. 'We'll start by the station,
then up the High Street.' That was two miles of solid
uphill work.

'Fine by me, Princess.' Jack didn't flinch.

She turned away from him and loped off to the right,
heading for the pool of neon orange under a far
streetlamp. Her feet were lifting Off the asphalt, rising to
the challenge, flying away from him. Behind her Elizabeth
heard Jack's grunt of surprise and the heavy thud of
him on the ground as he raced to catch her. It took him
four or five seconds. As Jack pulled up beside her,
Elizabeth effortlessly increased the pace.

'Come on, Taylor,' she said coldly. 'Let's see what you
got.'


Thirty minutes later she was covered in sweat. Straight
hill running, then hill running on a curve, with small flat
stretches to keep it aerobic. Elizabeth was working at the
top of her range but she could feel Jack really suffering.
He was too strong for sprinting.

'It's called muscle memory,' Jack gasped when they
finally hit the Pantiles. Royal Tunbridge Wells was a
ghost town at this hour, its prosperous red-brick houses
and pretty Georgian streets deserted. He watched Elizabeth
fly past countless gift shops and antique dealers, her
long neck lifted, her haunches in front of him tight and
fluid.

'What is?'

'Your fitness. How fast it's coming back. Even if you
lose it, you're not starting from scratch. You should be
ready for snow work in a couple more days.'

'Well, thanks, Coach,' Elizabeth snapped. She was
annoyed that Jack hadn't cried off yet, the .stubborn


2.00

bastard. 'Let's see if you're ready for this. Toad Rocks.
Half a mile up this curve.'

Four minutes later she turned into a dirt track off the
main road. The prehistoric rock formation thrust out of
thick woodland, surrounded by sand; a giant beachhead
hidden in the middle of Kent. Elizabeth usually ran there
in the mornings, via a much softer route. Overhead the
sky was lightening, the pink and gold streaks of dawn
creeping in from the east. She forced herself to bounce on
her feet and breathe regularly.

Behind her Jack Taylor caught up, hit a rock, and
collapsed, gasping, tearing the air into his lungs. Unbelievable.
That exhaustion was all the reward she was
going to get. He'd taken everything she could throw at
him.

Petulantly Elizabeth ignored him and started some
deep stretes. Jack said nothing, so when she was done
she turned to face him. He was still lying prostrate,

clutching his ankle.

'What's wrong?'

'It hurts. Christ, I think it's fractured,' Jack muttered.
Guilt surged through her. Who'd been playing macho
games now? If Jack's ankle was fractured, it was highly
unlikely it would heal in time for the Olympics. He was
the favourite for gold. She'd have robbed him of that just
to make a point.

Elizabeth gasped in dismay and sunk to her knees by
Jack.

'Oh! It's all my fault, I'm so sorry.' She reached out
and touched his lower leg but Taylor flinched away from
her. Elizabeth's eyes prickled with tears. 'Can I test it,
Jack? I'll be very careful ...'

He nodded, biting his lip, and spread his legs a little to
make room for her. Gingerly Elizabeth draped herself
across him, her breasts brushing his thighs, and reached
forwards with both hands. His ankle was lying in a pool


zoI

of shadow from the rock. She couldn't see if it was
discoloured.

'Gentle,' Jack murmured.

Elizabeth took his foot in her hands like it was made of
eggshells and massaged it lightly, expertly, her long
fingers working the muscle and bone, probing for any
swelling.

'You seem OK to me'

Suddenly Jack pounced, slipping one arm over the
small of her back and tipping her into the sand. His legs
kicked underneath her and his mouth fastened against
hers in a deep, rough kiss.

'Bastard,' Elizabeth snarled.

'You play rough, sugar. You nearly killed me.'

He tasted of sand and sweat. He kissed her like he
knew what he was doing. His arms were thicker than her
upper thighs. She was back on that mountain, lifting her
body into his, remembering herself dangling into space,
hanging on to life by the strength of that arm. There were
no men like Jack in her father's office.

'I came to England to find you,' he said, looking right
down into her eyes.

'What, you can't live without me?' Elizabeth asked,
trying for sarcasm and failing.

He grinned. 'Sure I can live without you. It just
wouldn't be nearly so much fun.'

Then he kissed her again, and again, covering her face
and her neck and ears with downy, butterfly kisses, till
Elizabeth gasped and pressed her body into his.

'Come on.' Jack hauled her easily to her feet. 'We'd
better get back, or I'm gonna take you to bed right here.'


She trained that day in a fever of anticipation and
happiness. Partly to prove something to Ronnie, partly to
show off to Jack.

'I can't believe it.' Ron was fulsome in his praise as


ZO2

they lined up in the Alpine View buffet restaurant for
lunch, Elizabeth heaping her plate with pasta salad,
baked potatoes and tuna. 'You're almost at race fitness.'

'Cow.' Karen's joky insult had a slight edge to it. She
could sense that the antipathy between Jack and Elizabeth
had gone. As had the other girl's fantasies of
displacing Lady Liz as number one.

'Umm, I must admit, I didn't think you'd be ready.'
Janet had a dig too. It wasn't fair. Ronnie's threat had
leaked out and she'd hoped Elizabeth might just be
dropped. Now she was going to waltz off with a medal
and maybe Jack Taylor. None of them could miss the
way his eyes had fastened on her all day.

'It's called muscle memory,' Elizabeth smiled sweetly.
'My body just needed reminding.'

'You've worked hard.' Ronnie grinned as they all
slotted int a table. He liked the resentment crackling
round the room, it would make them more competitive.
'I think you're ready for snow training too. Hans Wolf
called from Lausanne today. He wants to get you back on
the snow, mid-Jan.'

That would mean giving up on Dragon. But then,
thanks to Nina Roth, I'm going nowhere fast anyway,
Elizabeth thought. Maybe it was time to cut her losses.
'Great,' she said.


Jack called for her after dinner.

'Let's go out for a drive.'

Elizabeth looked up at him in surprise, but Jack
gestured to her tacky room. 'We can do better than this,
don't you think?'

They passed Janet in the lobby. 'Training starts at six
tomorrow,' she said, staring jealously at Jack's arm
threaded through. Elizabeth's duffel coat.

'And she'll probably be there,' Jack replied. Elizabeth


zo3

bit back her smile, but Janet's eyes glittered with dislike
anyway.

A hire car was parked in the forecourt, a sleek
Mercedes. Elizabeth slid into the passenger seat while
Jack jumped in beside her. A set of keys were resting on
the dashboard.
'Where are we going?' Elizabeth asked.

He smiled. 'You'll see.'

They drove out of town towards East Sussex, dipping
up and down country hills. Jack drove smoothly, unfazed
by the narrow woodland roads and sharp corners. The
night was crisp and cold, the stars brilliant in the clear
sky. Rabbits scurried away from the headlights, and once
she saw a white owl's wing ghosting up out of the trees in
front of them.

He parked outside a cottage on the edge of Frant
village. 'My country retreat. I stay here when I'm going
to meets.'

Jack jumped out to open the door for her. His Texas
gallantry made her nervous.

What's wrong with me? Elizabeth thought. Suddenly
she cared desperately about the kind of impression she
was giving him. It had never been that way with Gerard
de Mesnil, or Karl, or any of the others.

'Come in.' Jack flicked on lights and ushered her into
the cottage. It was beautiful, with timbered ceilings and
wooden stairs curving upwards. Elizabeth hung up her
duffel on an old-fashioned coat-stand and followed him
into a tiny drawing room. A careful pile of kindling, coal
and logs was all ready in the grate. Jack took a box of
Ship matches down from the mantelpiece and lit a

firelighter. It crackled into flame at once.

'Cheat,' Elizabeth teased.

Jack turned his head and gave her a wicked smile.
'I'm not that rustic. Want a drink? Port, sour mash,
champagne?'


o4

Elizabeth shifted on her heels as he drew the curtains.
She wanted to drink herself brave. 'Maybe a little
champagne.'

While he rummaged in the kitchen Elizabeth snuck
upstairs. The bathroom was painted a child's blue with
yellow ducks in the basin, and the single bedroom was
papered with a Laura Ashley burgundy sprig. A pair of
dumbbells lay at the foot of a large bed covered in a
pretty eiderdown. Something about the place made her
happiness tighten around her heart.

She went downstairs. 'It's lovely, but it doesn't seem
very you.'

'How do you know what's very me? You don't even
know me,' Jack said.

Elizabeth felt shy. 'I'd like to,' she said.

Jack leined over and kissed her very softly on the lips.
Then he handed her a chipped stone mug, half-full of
champagne.

'No glasses. At least it proves I didn't take you for
granted.'


They drank the champagne by the fire, Elizabeth nestling
her head in the crook of Jack's arm. He didn't make any
move on her, and slowly the nerves started to fade. When
he finally started to stroke her, Elizabeth wanted it, she
was light with desire for him. They started to kiss, gently,
then more urgently.

'Are you ready?' Jack whispered.

Elizabeth nodded, even though she was still scared.
He took her head in his two hands and kissed her
again. 'Sugar, I was dying for you the first moment I saw
you. It's not an audition. I won't do anything you don't
want.'

She smiled and held out her hand to him.

'I got a better idea,' Jack suggested. Then he scooped


205

her up in his arms like she was made of cotton wool, and
carried her slowly up the stairs.

Chapter


Snow lay thick on the ground in her tiny scrap of garden.
Outside on the street it was already turning to slush.
Nina let herself out and set the burglar alarm. It was still
a thrill to do that; the two-bedroom, three-storey house
in Tufnell Park, ninety grand, her first piece of property.
Tony had recommended her to the Hong Kong &
Shanghai for a wonderfully low mortgage, and the smart
Camden flat went to somebody more junior. Her Christmas
present had been a diamond necklace and earrings
from Asprey's, which Nina was planning to sell after a
decent interval.

'I don't celebrate Christmas,' she said when he handed
over the box.

Tony was unabashed. 'You do now.'

Despite the glorious chill fire of the jewels, Nina
thought how easy it would have been just to say, 'Happy
Chanukah.' But that was Tony, he didn't move an inch.
For anybody.

Nina climbed into her Golf and swung out into the
traffic. January was a buzz; maybe it was Britain's long,
booze-soaked holiday, but once New Year's was over,
the capital seemed full of fresh ,igour, as though
desperate to make up lost time. Nina spent the holidays
in Companies House and the library of the British
Medical Association. She knew Frank, Carl and her other
colleagues thought she was a crazy workaholic. They also
despised her once the rapid promotion came through.
Senior manager, that young? Nobody said anything to


zo7

Caerhaven's new piece of ass, but the frostiness was
there.

She flicked on the radio as she turned past King's Cross
Station. The news was dolorously announcing flooding
round the city of York and a passenger train marooned in
a Welsh blizzard. The Americans were stalling over the
Falklands. Unemployment was up again.

Anger doesn't bother me, Nina thought, it's the other
thing. Junior pricks of the type that always sucked up to
Liz Savage had started to suck up to her. That was
branding as bad as any scarlet letter. The irony was that
she deserved the new slot. Busting her ass all vacation,
she'd found an answer, to both of Tony's problems.
The last time she'd seen him was Christmas Eve, in a
suite at the St James's Club. He was taking a lunchtime
Intercity to Cardiff to be ferried back to his castle, and he
wanted to see her before he left. Nina was flattered by his
hunger for her, but unsettled by the Christmas present.
She took it and then him, straddling him on the bed,
rifling him almost violently. Tony provoked her. He was
good in bed, very expert in his moves, and his power was
a turn-on, but it wasn't like it had been that first time. It
hadn't been that good again.

Dublin was the climax of a lot of things, she saw that
now. Fear, and greed, and anger against a world from
which she was permanently barred. Anger at Elizabeth,
making her feel once again that she was just white trash.
Nina lifted her chin and flicked the dial to Radio One.
They could all go to hell. She deserved this promotion,
even if that was not why she'd gotten it. The Police were
yelling, 'We are spirits in the material world!' Nina
tapped the steering wheel in time. Yeah, brother, Amen
to that.

Tony had his problems too.

'They involve you,' he'd said, reaching across her
breasts for the Cristal, his green eyes bland.


zo8

'How?'

'My darling daughter isn't happy. She thinks we are
stifling her creativity. Or more to the point, that you are.
Ever since she came back from her bloody training camp she's been making merry hell.' The aquiline face was
tight. 'She's aggressive. Insistent. She wants me to fire

you.'

Nina sat bolt upright, the silk sheet slithering to her
waist. 'What?'

'That's right.' He was amused at her outrage. 'She says
you never consider her work--'

'That's because she never does any. I ask for market
research on hospitals, she turns up with cut-and-paste
adverts for aspirin.'

'Do you look at her stuff?'

Nina seethed with resentment. 'Fuck no. I'm New
Products. q want market research. Facts. She reports to
me, she should do what she's asked. I'm not looking for
the next Charles Saatchi.'

'But you may have to humour her, I'm afraid. She's
making good skiing times and she's in the Olympics this
year. She's talking about making a fuss in the press.
Giving interviews.'

'And you don't want that to happen?'

'And that isn't going to happen,' Tony said, his voice
light as silk round a blade. The darkness in his eyes made
Nina shiver. 'Make her happy, darling, would you?
Smooth things over. She is my daughter, after all.'

Nina slipped out of bed as Tony pulled a cigarette from
his silver monogrammed case, heading for a shower.
She'd been furious. She relied on him to block Elizabeth's
moves in the office, and now the snobbish little cow was
going to win? She didn't understand Savage. He talked
about Elizabeth with passionate dislike, but now he was
ordering Nina to roll over! Maybe blue blood was thicker
than water, after all.

zo9


Nina spun her car into its new slot, closer to the
building's entrance. The paint was still gleaming. She
knew she was making a lot of enemies here, and Lady
Elizabeth was just at the head of the queue. They would
tear her apart like a pack of rabid dogs if Tony ever took
his protective hand off her shoulder.

She took out her slim dossier from the back seat. To
hell with them all. If she couldn't be liked, at least she
could be good. And that would have to do.


'Catch!' Jack spun the box across the room and Elizabeth's
hand shot upwards to grab it. He thumped the
table. 'Reflex like that, you should be in baseball.'

'Cricket, please.' Elizabeth smiled as she ripped off the
'wrapping. 'Garrard's! What's this, another present?
Christmas is over, don't tell me you haven't noticed.'

She flicked open the small box to find a pendant, a
platinum ski on a long chain. 'Jack, it's so cool ...'

'It's not cool, it's romantic. Look.' He fished the
matching ski out of his pocket. 'I'm keeping this half.
Thought it was better than a split heart or a sixpence or
something corny like that. It's a goodbye present.'

Elizabeth jumped on the eiderdown to kiss him. 'I love
it.' She wanted to say, 'I love you,' but didn't dare. When
you said, 'I love you,' men heard, Tve got meningitis,'
they ran away so fast. 'But what do you mean you're
going away? It's nearly a month to snow training.'

Jack took the chain from her hands and looped it
around her neck. He was quick with the clasp; it still
amazed her, the guy was so big and yet so graceful. 'I got
to go back to Texas. Check on my studs, check on the
new orders.'

'Oh.' Elizabeth frowned. 'Can't that wait? Don't you
want to be with me? We're going to be so busy once
training starts, they'll have the national officials all over

US o..


ZIO

'It's business. I have to go.'

'You don't have to, you want to. Whatever.' She was
really pissed off. They'd waited so long, and now all she
got was a few days snatched before and after Christmas.
His business success was waved like a flag in her face,
and Elizabeth felt miserably conscious that her own
grand scheme had come to nothing.

'Hey, you'll want time at Dragon, right? You made
your old man take you on, you might as well make it
count for something.' Jack dropped to the ground and
began a fast set of stomach crunches.

'You're right,' Elizabeth said. It was true. She had
made Dad take her on, and the power she'd had then she
still had now. If that bitch Nina Roth was going to block
her, she could have her fired. What was the point of
leverage,.if you didn't use it?


Nina went up to see Tony as soon as she arrived. Mrs
Perkins, his secretary, tried to brush her off.

'Are you down in the book, Miss Roth?' She made a
great play of consulting her diary. 'Oh dear, I'm afraid

there's been a mix-up, you're not here.'

'I didn't make an appointment.'

'You didn't schedule an appointment? Then it won't be
possible to see him now.'

'He said I should drop by any time,' Nina said, trying
to smile. Mrs Perkins was giving her a superior gatekeeper's
look that said, I know what you're all about,
you hussy. She probably had a huge crush on Tony
herself. Casually Nina fiddled with her cuff to flash her
gold Cartier tank watch, set with diamonds, another
Tony bauble she could never have afforded on her salary.

Mrs Perkins went white. Bingo, thought Nina maliciously,
and he probably sent you out to buy it for me,
you uptight old bag.

'Lord Caerhaven is very busy. He doesn't see anyone
without an appointment.'

'Mrs Perkins,' Nina said sweetly, 'I don't have much

time. I'm afraid I must insist you buzz him for me.'

She faced the older woman down. Nina knew she was

an insolent Yank brat to her, but still, she was a senior
manager and Mrs Perkins was a secretary. Nina had
earned her status and she was never going to be put down
or blocked off again.

Mrs Perkins's whiteness blossomed with rage, two red

spots blooming on her cheeks like berries in cream, but

she icily depressed her intercom.

'I'm sorry, my lord, but Miss Roth insists on my
disturbing you.'

'Nina? Terrific. 5end her in, Mrs P.'

'He'll see you now, Miss Roth,' Mrs Perkins said
unnecessarily, her voice thin with annoyance. Nina gave
her an insolent wink as she opened the door.

Tony was standing facing his windows, gazing out

over the river that glittered in the weak January sun. He
turned to face her, his eyes assessing her pale blue suit
and green silk ghirt, her expensive Patrick Cox mules and
sheer Wolford stockings. Looking her over with sensual
possessiveness. Nina found it arousing but disturbing, the
way his eyes stripped her, like a boy appreciating a
favoured toy.

'You like your new parking slot? And you're wearing

your watch.' He smiled. 'What about the earrings?'

'Too much jewellery's not appropriate for the office.'
'But I like to see you in them. Wear them tomorrow.'
Tony gestured to the notes she was carrying. 'What's
this?'

'I think I've found you some answers. To the slimming

drug problem. And to Lady Elizabeth, too,' Nina said.

'Good girl,' Tony said warmly.

Elizabeth got into the office to find her friends genially
welcoming her back. She smiled and asked them all about
their Christmases, but she felt empty inside. Jack had
actually flown off and left her, and she wouldn't see him
for weeks. Then there would be a hard haul to reach
Olympic Champion skiing level, then the Games themselves.
Elizabeth felt sick with nerves. It was '82 now, the
Olympic year, and the bloody rings were appearing
everywhere, on Mars bars and Coke cans and in the
papers and on the telly, with endless profiles of herself.
Along with Jayne Torville and Christopher Dean, the ice
skaters, Elizabeth was apparently Britain's other dead
cert for gold. She thought Heidi and Louise might have a
few words to say about that. Heidi was three times
World Champion and only beaten by a nanosecond last
year. PI, she was Swiss, she'd have been skiing all
winter. Cabbies, socialites, and now the rest of the office,
everyone was wishing her luck, cheering her on, treating
her with a kind of awed respect that felt like a vice
crunching her skull, the pressure was so huge. It was
incredibly difficult to focus on anything else, but she
knew she had to. If she couldn't wring something out of
her bastard father now, she never would later. Win or
lose, by Easter the Olympics would be over, and she
wanted some kind of role to go back to.

She picked up her internal phone directory and
skimmed the pages, looking for Nina Roth's extension. It
had been changed. Now it began with a five. Elizabeth

frowned; five was for people with their own offices.
'Hey, Tom, has Nina Roth moved departments?'
Tom pointed at the ceiling. 'Only upwards. She got a
promotion while you were away. She's got her own room
now, her own assistant. It's some kind of record.'

No way, Elizabeth thought angrily. 'You're kidding,
she only just got here.'

zI3


Tom nodded. 'Umm, and the boys in New Products
aren't too happy about it either.'

'But why? What on earth did she do that was so great?'
Elizabeth saw poor Tom suddenly blush and look
down. Then it hit her.

Of course. She was always close to Daddy. So now
she's a bit closer; another tart for the harem. Sleeping her
way effortlessly up the ladder. Well, that was the only
thing Daddy ever rewarded women for, or in the case of
Monica, for not making a fuss. Was he bored of the girls
in pearls now, Elizabeth wondered acidly, and moving on
to career women? What did a hard-nosed robot with
breasts do for him?

At any rate, she wasn't going to let either of them stand
'in her way.
The phone on her desk buzzed loudly. Elizabeth picked
it up.

'Elizabeth, is that you, darling?' 5he tensed at the
sound of Daddy's voice; the nice words flecked with
sarcasm, the way he always spoke to her. She'd spent the
wfaole Christmas break riding out over the freezing
Caerhaven fields, or going for long hikes along the
clifftops, just to get away from that utterly bloody tone.
'Could you come up to my office? Nina Roth and I have
a little suggestion for you.'


Elizabeth checked her reflection in the mirrored door of
the lift. Her hair fell loose and glossy over a Jaeger jacket
in butterscotch cashmere and matching tweed skirt. She
wore low brown heels and eight-denier tights, the
thinnest wisps of nothing she could find for her legs. The
pre-training session had got her back into shape; she fit
the same size twelve now but she was half a stone
heavier, her weak legs and buttocks firmed into muscle,
her taut upper back making her look taller. A gold cuff
bracelet fell over her left wrist and Jack's long platinum

ski glinted against a cream silk shirt. She had no makeup
but she didn't need it. The healthy athlete's glow was
back in her skin.

The lift doors hissed open and she stepped out to face
Mrs Perkins, who gave her an obsequious smile. 'Lady
Elizabeth, how nice to see you, you look beautiful ... did
you have a nice Christmas? Lots of exercise, I expect?'

Elizabeth smiled graciously and chatted but her heart
was thumping loudly in her chest. She could feel the
adrenalin surging through her bloodstream, like it did
before a race. Nina and Tony. Together. Was she going
to need it? Was there going to be a fight?

'No, no, go in, Lady Elizabeth, of course he's expecting
you,' Mrs Perkins was twittering. Elizabeth stepped
through her father's lobby, unconsciously rubbing the
signet ring he'd handed over at Christmas. All Savage children got theirs at twenty-one, the heavy gold circle
cut to fit, stamped with the family crest. I've got a bloody
right to this, Elizabeth thought, summoning up her anger.
He can't shut me out any more.
She walked into Tony's office.


Nina stood by the desk, listening to Elizabeth and Mrs
Perkins murmuring outside. Mrs Perkins sounded
remarkably friendly and deferential; but then Elizabeth
was quality, after all, and I'm just the help, she thought
cynically. Tony got up when his daughter entered the
room and walked across to kiss her on the cheek. Nina
pasted a smile on her face as she watched them. Christ.
Look at the stuck-up little cow. This was the girl who
wanted to take her job away! A castle. Swiss finishing
school. Hunt balls and tweed skirts!

The earl and Elizabeth said hello and kissed the air by
each other's cheeks. The words were friendly, but the
ceremony was stiff. Nina forced the grin off her face

They're as screwed up as me and my loser folks, in their
way.

Tony waved both girls to a seat.

'Elizabeth, darling, Nina's had an idea.'

Chapter zz


'Lady Elizabeth.' Nina nearly choked on it. 'Do you

recall that New Products was working on a drug, Bz8?'
'The slimming pill,' Elizabeth said.

'Yeah. That drug was a bust, but the research on it
turned up some interesting side effects.'

'Part of the pill components were vitamins,' Tony said,
'intended to replace lost nutrients if the appetite suppressant
stopped the punters eating. B-z8 failed toxicity tests,
meaning-it poisoned the system--'

'I know what toxicity means, Daddy.'

Daddy! Speaking quickly to cover her annoyance, Nina
ploughed on. 'Vitamins may be the next big thing in
retail. Along with bottled mineral water and keep-fit, we
think they're going to be the craze of the eighties. We
were hoping you could help.'

'So was I, but every time I came up with an idea - for
anything - you refused to look at it.'

Elizabeth held the American's gaze and saw the dark
pupils flash, Nina's lush beauty spiced with anger.

There was a pause. Elizabeth saw Nina glance at Tony,
but her father looked blank.

'Yes, Lady Elizabeth. I realise I "may have been too
hasty,' the dark-haired girl said slowly. She dropped her
eyes. Clearly furious.

'You can be a special help to us with a new pill we're
launching,' Tony said smoothly. 'People want one pill for
everything. It's been difficult in the past.'

'And we've got one?'


z7

'Well, we've found a way to combine iron and
calcium,' Nina Roth said. 'Usually, calcium blocks the
absorption of iron. So our new pill will be the most
complete thing out there. And you are the perfect person
to sell it. You could combine the campaign with your
skiing career. You see, we're thinking of calling it Dragon
Gold. As an Olympic hopeful, a World Champion

already, you would be the perfect face for the brand.'

'You want me to be in adverts?'

'Only print ones, Elizabeth. I'd find television ads a

little vulgar,' her father said. 'But you would also be in
charge of the campaign. Designing it. Selling it. You can
create copy, oversee the agency account, everything.'

Elizabeth found her fist had curled into a tight ball.
mazing what a little blackmail could do. It sounded like
a good product, and she would have total control. She

was careful not to betray her elation.

'Is the pill gold?'

'Yellow, from the betaocarotine,' Nina explained.
Elizabeth hated her patronising air. She might not be a
lab' rat like Nina Roth, but she wasn't stupid. Nina
thought she had a monopoly on anything needing a
double-figure IQ.

'What do you think, darling?' the earl asked lightly.

'Right up your alley, isn't it?'

'Right up my alley,' Elizabeth agreed. 'If you mean it,

about my having total control.' She leaned forwards,

looking at Tony challengingly.

She's ignoring me, Nina thought.

'Of course,' Tony said.

'If I'm to control this line, I shouldn't have to report in

to Nina.'

Nina sat perfectly still, anger blazing through her like

fire through petrol. She had no doubt at all that Tony
would cave in. All he wanted was the quiet life. And if
that meant humiliating Nina then that's what he would


2.I8

do. She looked over at her young ladyship, the girl so
poised and polished in her upper-class clothes, and her
eyes were flint.

'No. Nina will be out there, supervising the actual
launch, but your work will be overseen by Dino Vin
cenza. He's in charge of marketing, after all.'

'Suits me, Daddy. Although maybe it would be better if
I reported in to Dino on everything. In the future.'

Nina bit her bottom lip. Caerhaven had tensed, and
she sensed he was very angry, but he was the consummate
pragmatist.

'If you like,' Tony said.

'Then that's fixed.' Elizabeth stood up, pushing herself
up on the soles of her feet, perfectly balanced. It was a
strong movement. She gave Nina a barely perceptible
nod, then shook her father's hand.

'Well,'that's all,' Tony said, dismissing the meeting.
Nina got up, unable to look at father or daughter. She
followed Elizabeth's stiff back out into the corridor and
waited by the elevator bank with her. She wondered if
Mrs Perkins had been listening in to that exchange,
thought about the look of triumph that would greet her
next time she entered Tony's office.

Elizabeth stepped into the lift. Nina followed her.
'You know, this works great for me,' Nina said. 'I
really have so much work to do already, one less job will
be a relief.'

Lady Elizabeth's green eyes fixed on hers. 'Nobody
asked you if it would be great for you or not,' she said.

'That's right.' Nina couldn't help" herself. 'I didn't go
running to Papa to ask him to fix things for me. But then
I'm not a part-timer. I really work for a living.'

'Yeah, you don't bother having a life. I heard that,'
Elizabeth Savage mocked. 'Except when you go running
to your boyfriend's bed. That's why he lets you do real
work, sweetie. Daddy's not big on women, except th

ones he wants in his bed. That's the only reason you
made the grade.'

'You silly, spoilt little cow,' Nina snarled. 'You've got

no idea how I made the grade. I'm the smartest person in

this goddamn company.'

'Certainly the best at Daddy's special assignments.'
Elizabeth reached out and slammed the pause button.
'But don't get any illusions, Nina. You'll never replace
my stepmother. You're nothing special. Girls like you
come and go, you're just a toy to him.'

'He doesn't give a damn about you. He's only doing

this to shut your stupid little Sloane mouth up.'

Elizabeth smiled. 'You think I need you to tell me that?

And you think I care? I've got a right to this company. I'll
'get my chance any way I bloody well can. Although I
expect you'll be blabbing all this to him next time he
takes you to bed.'

'No chance, bitch,' Nina snapped. 'I can look after
myself.'

'Ditto.' Elizabeth let the lift slide downwards. 'And I

caf handle you. In fact I just did, didn't I? I'll be trotting

off to Dino now, since he's my new boss.'

'Watch your back, kiddo,' Nina said.

Elizabeth laughed. 'I don't think so. I'm more than a
match for you. And give it a rest with the melodrama,
would you? You're in England now, you know, not a bit
player on Starsky and Hutch."

The lift slid smoothly to a halt and the doors hissed
open.

'After you, milady,' Nina said softly.

Elizabeth turned and gave her a brilliant smile. 'Oh,

you can call me Elizabeth, Nina. I like to encourage
familiarity from the staff.'

She walked off towards Marketing in a soft swish of
cashmere and tweed, her long, honey-blonde hair gleaming
neatly down her back, her elegant walk giving Nina

llO


visions of deportment lessons and private dances. Fury
balled like a fist in Nina's stomach.

I might be in England, she thought, but I'm still playing
by Brooklyn rules. And girl, you just had your first and
last warning.

Nina sat down at her desk and tapped into her
computerabsently. Her mind was already in Switzerland.
And on what it would take to bring Lady Elizabeth
down.


'So. Tell me more about these Wiinderkinder you've
discovered,' Frank Staunton said.

Nina crossed her legs and leaned back in her chair.
Lady Elizabeth had flown off to Switzerland, and no one
else around Dragon dared to give her a hard time. She
was wearing a navy suit with white piping, a prt
porter fm Chanel. Gucci heels gave her an extra inch of
height and Tony's diamonds glittered on her lobes. The
Swiss team she'd found were a slam-dunk. Right now she
could face Heinrich Giinther, Don Hadley and the rest
without a qualm.

For a moment Nina remembered the frightened, desperate
teenager she'd been barely three years back. Well,
that girl was dead. She'd killed her. The power she felt
right now was worth any amount of catty looks from
Tom, Elizabeth and the rest of them.

'I've found a primary research source I think should
replace Steele and Ripley.' Nina passed folders around
the table. 'Dr Henry Namath-, Dr Lilly Hall and four
technicians under their employ are currently operating in
Zurich. They're freelancers and have supplied specialist
work to pharmaceutical giants and biootech companies.
They work on complex computer modelling systems. Dr
Hall's the biochemist, Dr Namath the computer expert.
Their ratio of success to failure is very good.'

'But slimming drugs, Miss Roth,' Heinrich Giinthr

objected. 'Your folder refers to cardio, respiratory, antiinflammatories
...'

'If they already had a slimming drug, we wouldn't be
taking this meeting.' Nina risked insolence; she saw the
amused gleam in Tony's eye. 'The reason I propose we
annex them is that they have recently done some
interesting veterinary work. A drug called Leptate has
helped to slim pigs.'

There was silence. Pigs weren't humans, but they were
mammals; they were close.

'And why has not ICI jumped on them already?'
'Only because they aren't sca.nning the breakthroughs
in animal medicine, I guess. It occurred to me to crosscheck
over the vacation.'

' There, Nina thought. Under the table her manicured
fist curled softly in on itself. Now they'll stop despising
me, she thought. They'll have to. That kind of lateral
thinking is what's lacking over here. And with one
brainwave I just got them closer than they've ever been
before.

tWe should move fast, though. Somebody else is bound
to notice soon.'

'I agree.' Frank Staunton was looking at Tony, nodding.

'And I.' Seeing which way the wind was blowing, Herr
Giinther had decided to jump in there too.

'My daughter will be out there supervising a new
product launch. As she's skiing in the Olympics, it will be
perfect cover. Meanwhile Nina will be in Switzerland,
essentially to cover sales and shipping, but actually
talking to Doctors Hall and Namath.'

'Terrific, sir,' Gerald Jax said admiringly.

']a,' Giinther agreed. 'Nobody will think twice about it.'

'Then that's settled.' Caerhaven smiled softly.

The meeting broke up. Nina noticed that the soft

murmurs of congratulation were all headed Tony's way.
Heinrich Giinther gave her a sharp look of dislike, which
was the best compliment she was likely to get. She
glanced angrily at Tony. Why did he want to steal her
idea?

The earl looked over from his crop of courtiers and
caught her staring. He frowned slightly and Nina dropped
her eyes. He didn't appreciate the protest. I'm still
the boss, his dark eyes warned. Don't luck with me.


Nina walked through to Ma-rketing at five p.m., carrying
a folder on Dragon Gold. Ad executives and their
secretaries gave her nasty glances and stopped talking
when she passed by their desks.

She stopped in front of Elizabeth's little cubicle,
expecting to see it plastered with pictures of Elizabeth
holding medals or grinning out of the pages of Tatler. Maybe some shots of Jack Taylor; she'd heard the
rumours they were seeing each other. One rich-kid jock
screwing another, just perfect. She knew Tony thought
so. And she was with him there: Elizabeth married and in
Texas meant Elizabeth out of her hair, giving dinner
parties and throwing charity balls like little ladies were
intended to. But the walls were covered with ads.
Saatchi's pregnant man, the Honey Monster, some apes
throwing a tea party. Nina recognised each one of them.
Maybe looking up at other people's triumphs was the
closest her little ladyship would ever come to work.

Elizabeth looked up. Her long hair was caught back
now in a velvet clip. It looked ludicrously fresh faced and
boarding-schoolish.

'I've come to bring you the notes on the new product,
Elizabeth.'

'The notes? Oh, thank you, but I have them already.
Mrs Perkins is making sure I'm up to speed.'

Nina shrugged.


zz3

'I'll get everything I need direct from my father,'

Elizabeth said, 'so you needn't concern yourself.'

'OK,' Nina said, through gritted teeth.

'And I've just heard that you'll be out in Switzerland
too. Do you like skiing? Maybe you could come out and
watch the Olympics.'

'Thanks, but I find work keeps me busy. I prefer to
concentrate on the job in hand.' Nina dredged up some
murky names from her memory."I guess I'll just keep my
fingers crossed for Kim Gideon and Holly Ferrell, those
are our girls, right? Or if not, Louise Levier and Heidi
Laufen. The Swiss. If you're neutral, it's nice to support
the host nation.'

Lady Elizabeth's green eyes regarded her with maddening
coolness.

'How silly of me. You're the total professional. Just
work, work, work, but then of course that's how you've
been getting all your wonderful promotions. Pretty

earrings, by the way. They look rather expensive.'
'I earned them,' Nina said.
'So I hear,' Elizabeth replied.

Nina turned on her heel and walked away. She didn't
want the rich bitch to see her riled. She wanted to slap
that silly, smug little face until the ears bled. Goddamn,
I've been working since I was seven years old, I don't
need to come to England and have some no-nothing
blueblood call me a whore to my face.

Nina's office was a haven of silence. She looked round:
soft, dove-grey carpets, an orthopaedic chair, a kidney
shaped desk and top-of-the-range computer. She was a
senior manager now, with her own secretary and two fax
machines.

I earned this, she thought fiercely, I did, I did.

The wall opposite her desk was decorated with a large
square photograph. Nina had chosen a Patrick
Demarchelier shot, a black and white showing a grimy


zz4

Brooklyn street scene. It was nowhere near ler old
neighbourhood but so what, poor was poor. As Nina
stared at it her heart hardened up again, shaking off the
insults and misgivings.

Jeff Glazer. The laughing kids at St Michael's. Her fat
fuck of a father slumped on the couch in front of Jeopardy.

Never, never again. She was sitting here wearing
Chanel. It was gonna take more than a few dirty looks to
raze her now.

225


Chapter 23


Tony Savage lay back in bed and watched Nina. He felt
marvellously relaxed. The ultra-modern, Japanese d6cor
of the Halkin Hotel matched his mood perfectly; soothing,
with no fuss or bother. He congratulated himself as
Nina dressed. The girl had been quite a find; an off-the
wall thinker, with relentless ambition. And the best piece

' of ass he'd ever had.

He thought of Camilla Browning, with her horsy voice
and clingy manner. Looking back on it she seemed as
exciting as a lowing cow. Nina was in another league.
She turned him on like a light switch. Nina Roth would
die before she'd cling on to anything. Tony casually
tudied the soft creamy flesh at the top of Nina's thighs as
she pulled on her panties, plain white cotton from Marks
& Spencer. Nina had the best pair of breasts he'd ever
seen, she was all soft curves and hardoassed Yank
attitude. Tony knew it was one more source of jealousy
around Dragon that he was laying her. Heinrich, for
example, looked at her when her back was turned like a
slavering dog. He'd even caught the bellboy tonight with
his eyes on her butt like he could see through her dress.
Tony liked that. He loved lesser men drooling over what
he had.

'My flight leaves at noon,' Nina said. 'I'm going home
now. To pack.'

'Are you taking your bracelet with you?'

Nina picked up the trinket he'd bought for her tonight.

It was a light twist of silver set with opals and s.apphires.

'I don't think so. I don't plan on going to many
parties.'

'I want you to take it,' Tony said..

Nina stiffened. She hated it when he used that tone.
The jewels she'd loved at first were now beginning to
annoy her; she couldn't say why.

'I went to a lot of trouble to get it for you. Why won't
you take it?'

'I guess,' Nina agreed after a pause.

Tony smiled. Nina was too prickly for hearts and
flowers, fine. But he was still in charge. That was the best
thing about this little one: she was smart and driven, but
still too young to really see things straight. When she got
a good idea, she came right to him. Women did that a lot,
he noticed. They picked up silly romantic ideas about
work, they invented spurious loyalties and clung to the
idea that haxd work would be rewarded. People worked
hard in quarries, but rarely got rewarded. Results. It was
all about results. Nina would give him her best work, she
would be comfortable, she would wind up a middle
manager and be grateful for it too. The jewellery made a
nice point: he didn't want her getting too independent.

Recently she'd been hanging back a little in bed.
Initially she'd been passionate; lately it was like the
bloom had gone for her. But Tony was skilled, he knew
how to ride over that first reluctance. His desire for her
was still at full throttle. He had no intention whatsoever
of letting her go.

'Good girl, that's the ticket. Yo.u'll want something to
wear to the Olympic parties and launches that Liz dreams up.'

'Yeah.' Nina's dark mood blackened further. She
reached for her bra and dress and pulled them on quickly.

'You must send me reports on her. See that she's
keeping out of trouble. And what the story is between her
and the Taylor boy,' Tony said.


zz7

'Of course. I'll keep you updated.'

'I knew I could count on you, darling. We'll rush
forward with wedding plans as soon as he pops the
question. Throw her a spectacular bash, and then it'll be
off to darkest Texas.'

'But never mind.' Nina walked forwards and perched
on the end of the bed. Tony's wallet was laid open on the
side-table; there was a prominent photo of the countess,
Monica, with two teenage boys. Elizabeth was noticeably
absent. She watched her lover as she added, 'You won't
be so much gaining a son as losing a daughter.'

Lord Caerhaven gave a short bark of laughter.

God, you really do hate her, Nina thought drily. How
interesting.


She took a taxi back from the lobby of the hotel. The
receptionist kept shooting her sidelong glances, until
Nina turned dark eyes towards him and stared him coldly
in the face, at which the man dropped his eyes at once.

The cab took her up to Tufnell Park. It was only two
h.m., but the roads in the city centre were already
deserted. Nina stared out of the windows; a thin drizzle
was lashing little beads on the windowpane that sparkled
in the lamplight. Her new bracelet sparkled too, twisting ".
between her fingers. It was a wonderful piece; expensive
but not overpowering, impeccably tasteful. Just what you
would expect from the Robber Baron.

The house was deserted and still. Nina had shoved
most of her furniture into storage and switched her bills
to Dragon. The answerphone was blinking furiously: six
messages from New York and Europe that had missed
her in the office; one from Anita Kerr, her secretary,
inviting her out for a goodbye drink. Nina was sorry
she'd missed that one. Anita, who knew how hard she
worked, was the closest thing she had to a friend in the
office. Anita and Brian Kane, her neighbour, .who she

2.2.8 +

sometimes jogged with on a Sunday, represented her non
Dragon social life. But I don't need one, Nina told
herself. I don't need to be a butterfly like Elizabeth. I have
things to do with my life.

She went into the kitchen and pulled out the last Tesco
pizza from the freezer. Then she started to fix a pot of
coffee. She drank so much caffeine these days, she could
drink coffee right before bed without any problem.
Coffee and pizza was a small pleasure, a solitary moment
in a day filled with people she didn't really like. Take the
function last evening, a stuffy Caerhaven party at the
House of Lords. Senior Dragon people went. Why had
she been asked? Because Tony wanted to impress her? Or
his cronies? It was the eighteenth birthday of Charles,
Lord Holwyn, Tony's eldest son. Charles was a miniature
version of his papa, striding through the crowd, being
heartily congratulated by obnoxious schoolfriends and
bluff business associates of Tony's. Lord Richard, his
little brother, seemed blond and bland, like his mother.
Nina watched Tony's wife curiously. She seemed sexless,
almost faceless, despite her inoffensive prettiness. Yet she
moved through that crowd with a poise Nina would
never have, looking bored but charming at the same time.
There were more titles and money together in that room
than Nina could get her head round, and she hated every
last second of it. An attractive but stupid girl named
Camilla Browning kept bumping into her all night long,
showering her with clumsy insults and cutting remarks
about Americans. Eventually Nina escaped with a glass
of bourbon to the terrace, to watch the Thames roll
sluggishly by. When Tony wandered out and casually
suggested the Halkin as a rendezvous, Nina was relieved.
But by the time she met him in the lobby, her attitude had
hardened. She disliked Tony almost as much as the rest of
them.

The microwave pinged.

Even if it meant more run-ins with Elizabeth, she was
looking forward to Switzerland. That country was all
about money. And Nina knew money. Maybe in Zurich
she could make the deal that would gain her respect once
and for all.

Before she ate, Nina picked up her new bracelet and
dropped it in an envelope, addressed to Anita Kerr. Her
note asked Anita not to wear it around the office. It
might be a foolish gesture, Nina thought, but it felt good.
If rather dangerous.


The plane dipped towards Kloten airport, overlooking
Lake Zurich and the snow-capped mountains around the
city. Nina watched the scenery with idle curiosity. It was

' her first time in Continental Europe but she couldn't
spare much interest in picture-postcard views. Her mind
was racing through the biographies of Dr Lilly Hall and
Dr Henry Namath.

They were a strange pair. Dr Hall had been a full
professor of biochemistry at the University of Western
Australia. She was a holder of the Order of Australia for
her breakthrough work in disease-resistant crop genetics.
Lilly was a practical woman, she didn't take time to
publish her work. Her college demanded more name
recognition, there was a spat over tenure, and Dr Hall
left for the private sector. Her work since then was
ambitious, and often failed, but the scores she did make
were serious. Lean pigs! Nina could shiver just thinking
about it. Her photograph in the file was ten years out of
date; it showed a iowly woman in her forties, short,
squat, with leathery skin from too much exposure to the
sun. If there was a romance, nobody knew about it.

Dr Henry Namath. Pictured four years ago, nothing to
write home about in the looks department - Buddy Holly
glasses and facial hair that would do credit to Chewbacca
the Wookie, but a razor-sharp mind. Between the lines of

his file Nina read him as your classic nerd. As a teenage
boy from a cold northwestern suburb outside Minneapolis,
Harry Namath had been twice expelled from school
for crashing a mainframe computer. Later he had done
two months in juvenile detention for doing the same to a
state mainframe, causing all the lights in Pennsville, MA,
to stick on green for a full day. Namath had been writing
code and programming machines for ever, since that
meant feeding strips of paper with holes punched in them
to metal behemoths working the binary system. He'd
maxed out his SATs, but with the criminal record, only
scraped in to University of St Thomas, a Catholic college,
where he'd barely cruised through. Nina grinned when
she recalled that. Maybe UST didn't have any computers.

Now he was writing programs as a freelance. Picked
up an easy doctorate at the London School of Economics,
hired by IBM, fired in six months. Clearly a maverick.
Bumped into Lilly Hall at a hospital fundraiser in
London, when she was completing a project for the
Ministry of Agriculture. They'd been together ever since.
Lilly did the pharmacology; Harry wrote programs for
companies, showing how her drugs and genes could be
used.

Both of them were arrogant, rebellious and probably
as greedy as she was for the big score.

.Just the kind of hustlers I can do business with, Nina
thought.


After Customs she picked up her baggage and jumped in
a cab. Tony had personally selected hel" apartment off the
Storchengasse.

'Very nice,' the cabbie said pleasantly when she gave
him the address. 'Very good area, you will like.'

They drove through the jazzy Niederdorf area, past
outside cafes, tobacconists and bookstores with slanted
roofs. After London everything seemed very clean. Nina'


2.3I

watched an ancient Kircbe slip by, then banks with brass
nameplates. It was very cold and the sky was a dazzling
blue. She could see mountains in the distance. It felt like
an alien world.

The Storchengasse turned out to be a major shopping
thoroughfare for the seriously rich. Hermes, Chanel,
Cartier; it was thronging with women in silky-looking
furs. When the cab drew up outside a smart, fiat-fronted
building with a uniformed doorman, Nina stepped out
with a sigh of pure satisfaction. She gave the driver a
generous tip.

Her apartment was fully automated. Nina punched a
combination into a wall panel and the front door slid
open. Doubtless Dr Namath would approve. It was

' decorated in white and cream with touches of gold, very
Swiss and baroque. The refrigerator was fully stocked; a
basket of fruit was laid out on a small ebony table by her
bed. The card was a sterile, printed welcome message

from Luc Viera, MD of Dragon Switzerland. Tony kept a
skeleton office in Geneva. Mostly Viera and his gnomes
kpt abreast of the gossip floating out of the banks. Nina
imagined the Robber Baron's orders coming through,
how annoyed the career suit Viera would be to be told he
was point man for a kid. That idea pleased her almost as
much as the apartment.

Money and power, that's what Tony Savage was
dangling in front of her face. Nina selected a bitter Swiss
chocolate from the open box in the kitchen and bit into it
carefully. It was sublime. Maybe she should wear his
jewellery, next time he told her to. After all, wasn't this
everything she'd always wanted?


'So.' Elizabeth dumped her skis down in the boot room
for waxing and pushed her goggles up over her face. Her
skin was stung red from the cold; white wax was smeared
clown-like over her lips but right now she wished she'd

z3z


done her cheeks too. She clump-clumped her way into the
hotel foyer. It was so ironic: good boots anchored your
turns like rocket boosters on the slopes, bombing you
forwards with perfect weight precision, and yet the
second you unclipped the skis you were crippled, tripping and lurching like astronauts on the moon. She sat down
carefully on a step and unstrapped them, ignoring the
stares from the tourists and sports groupies. 'At least I
haven't forgotten how to ski.'

'You could have fooled me,' Karen Carter sniped. 'Still
four seconds off your best. And five off Louise's - she did
that course in two-twenty over Christmas.'

Elizabeth shrugged. 'I'm improving every session.'
What the hell was your time, loser? she wanted to
snap, but bit it back. She was coming in for unexpected
stick from the press. Slagging a fellow Brit would only
make things worse. Karen or Janet Marlin would be
bound to leak it. Jealousy over Jack Taylor had soured
the team spirit, and the Olympic setting made things a lot
worse. Everywhere the team trained they were greeted
with huge five-ring banners, cheering Swiss and multinational
officials, sports journos and television crews. The
World Cup felt like a local gymkhana in comparison. Big
stars were wandering round every venue: Torville and
Dean, Robin Cousins, and the rest. Since it was Switzerland,
the bobsledders would be tackling the Cresta Run.
Glamour and glory were in the air; deadly rivalry and the
weight of history. You couldn't escape the atmosphere.
Adrenalin crackled around like .electricity up the cable
cars. The 61ite were here for Olympic g01d medals.
Nothing less.

Karen Carter, Janet Marlin and Kate Cox were not
here for Olympic gold medals. Or for Olympic medals of
any description. They had no chance. Martin Bell in the
men's team had no chance. Lady Elizabeth Savage was
the UK's only real contender. All the other girls got asked'


2.33

was, what was it like to ski with her, didn't they feel
privileged watching such a great talent emerge? Des
Lynam contented himself with Karen, because Elizabeth
was too busy to speak to him. And the stuck-up cow had
somehow waltzed off with Jack bloody Taylor, after
pretending for months and months that she hated him.
Janet told Karen Elizabeth was a proper little madam,
and Karen had totally agreed. Ronnie Davis kept his
distance, because Ronnie would soon be training only the
main team. Elizabeth would zoom off again with Hans
Wolf, the genius coach they'd all have given their eye
teeth to work with. Elizabeth .was just too good for the
rest of them.

'Did you take a look at the Sun this morning?' Janet

' asked.

'Yeah, but it doesn't bother me.' The tabloids were all
running nasty pieces about Elizabeth's lack of commitment,
commenting on her Alpine rivals' current times.
'I'm heading out to Klosters with Hans tomorrow to start
the real work,' she said lightly.

"Well, hold the back page,' Karen sniped.

Elizabeth smiled softly at her. What was the point? Did
Jack get this crap from his teammates?

'Will you be packing all your pictures with you?'
'Yes, I will.' She grinned as she thought about her piles
of ad mock-ups. Elizabeth had been spending every
moment she wasn't skiing working on Dragon Gold.
Nina Roth was due in Zurich soon and Elizabeth wanted
to have something to show her.

'I don't think you should be doing anything but skiing,
Elizabeth,' Karen lectured. 'It's not proper.'

Elizabeth squeezed her feet into trainers and eased into
some deep stretches.

'England rugby players work in banks. Sally Gunnell's

got a fulltime job. So have Jayne and Chris. It's supposed

to be an amateur event.'


z34

'Amateur is right,' Karen muttered.

Elizabeth rounded on her. 'Yeah? Think you can do
better? I don't need to train as hard as you, Karen,
because I'm twice as good. You can stick to opening
supermarkets and writing columns for Cosmo. I'm out
here to do something for Britain. You don't have a
prayer, not if you spend every day of the year on the
snow. So get out of my face.'

Karen's mouth dropped open as Elizabeth stomped off
to the elevator bank.

'Snobby cow,' she said.

Kate Cox moved closer. 'Don't worry, she'll get hers. I
heard Louise Levier's been training with Franz Klammer.
She'll be lucky if she scrapes a bronze.'

Janet glanced down at a ski brochure franked with the

Olympic rings. Jack Taylor's bronzed, square,jawed face.
'Can't think what he sees in her.'

'Not that much,' Karen said gleefully. 'He hasn't called
her once, not at this hotel. I checked with the operator,

pretending to be her.'

'You never.'

'I did. And you know his reputation: find 'em, feel 'em,
luck 'em, forget 'em. He fancied her, she dropped her

pants, end of story.'

'You reckon?'

'She's had it far too easy for far too long,' Karen
muttered. 'She's got it coming, that girl.'

z35


Chapter 24


Nina shivered and looked at her watch. Quarter of nine
in the cold morning light, no sign of life. The bell on the
fading pistachio paint buzzed insistently; the grubby steel
plaque read Hall/Namath Consulting. She was in the
right place at the right time, representing Dragon's global
power and wealth. And nobody seemed to care.

This was the sleazy part of town, facing away from the
lakeside. The main rail station was a few blocks away,
the Strafien packed with dull, shabby apartment blocks
full of unskilled workers. Maybe this was the only low
rent street in Switzerland. The shuttered stores used
C/finese letters; the wrappings dropped in front of the
delis were Turkish and Polish. It was almost like being
back on Flatbush, except the air was clean.

Nina shifted from foot to foot. The neighbourhood
wasn't stirring yet from whatever trouble it had seen last
night. Otherwise she'd have been scared to be stood here,
wearing an expensive, tailored suit of dove-grey cashmere,
a silver cuff bracelet and prim little studs. Her
make-up was pulled together, a' pale foundation, clover
lips and cheeks. She'd made sure she dressed as formal and old as possible. In her experience, mavericks liked to
keep all the craziness for themselves. If executives showed
up in jeans and T-shirts they panicked. No, Nina wanted
to look dull and trustworthy. And rich. As much like a
nice Swiss banker as she could manage.

She picked up her briefcase and depressed the buzzer


2.36

again, a long, hard push. Namath's deep, warm voice
had said eight thirty. Real insistent.

'Are you sure?' Nina had asked, surprised.

'Eight thirty's good for me, Ms Roth. Best time of day.
Clear head, you can think straight.'

Now she'd been stood here for fifteen minutes. It was
freezing, but little midges were already buzzing around.
This quarter had been built on former swamps. Fuck, she
was going to have to leave and get to a phone, rearrange.

Angrily Nina took her finger off the buzzer and kicked
hard at the door.

It swung open, yanked back by a tall man with a broad
chest, a square, clean-shaven jaw and handsome brown
eyes. He was wearing a robe and not much else. He was
very tanned. He looked furious.

'Gott in Himmel, was ist geschah? Was ist los?' Nina swallowed hard. 'Dr Namath?'

He straightened up. 'Yeah. Who the fuck wants to
know? Are you from the embassy? I sent the visa papers
over last week. Don't you people have phones?'

Nina flushed scarlet. She didn't dare look at him, he
was almost naked.

'I'm Nina Roth from Dragon. I - don't we have an
appointment?'

'You're who? Oh, sure, the drugs people.' He was still
pissed off. 'What the hell do you want now?'

Nina was miserably confused. 'Sir. It's quarter of. I've
been here since eight thirty. That's when you told me to
turn up.'

Dr Namath paused, then shr&gged his shoulders and
grinned. 'You're kidding. You thought I meant eight
thirty as in a.m.?'

Nina had absolutely no idea what to say. If it hadn't
been for the voice she'd never even have recognised him.
She was expecting a bearded geek with bottle glasses she
could sign up on the spot, a poor researcher who'd be.


z37

grateful for her attentions. Not this big hulk standing
here in his robe, laughing at her.

'I meant at night. When we're done. Lilly doesn't even
open her eyes till ten, kiddo. Go have some breakfast and
come back then.' He gestured to the thin Paisley robe
covering his bronzed chest with its wiry black hair and
cutting off above stocky legs. 'I'd ask you in for coffee
but I'm not exactly dressed for it.'

'Yes. Sure. Uh, I'm sorry I got the time wrong. In
Dragon we tend to--'

'Eleven,' Namath said firmly, and shut the door in her
face.


,Nina went to the chrome and glass temple of the
Container design centre for breakfast; something ludicrously
expensive to charge to her platinum company
Amex. Spending money would help her feel back in
control. She was still blushing with embarrassment and

	when the coffee came, a large espresso so

annoyance

thick and bitter she could almost rest her spoon on it.
The restaurant was full of businessmen. Nina ordered a Wall Street Journal and Financial Times sent over and
breakfasted on croissants and a bowl of wild strawberries.
She buried her face in the Journal. Kiddo! He'd
wrongfooted her, dressed her down whilst nearly naked,
then called her kiddot How frustrating was that, to be all revved up for the big poaching ,operation, and then ....

Namath had made her blush. Not just because she'd
gotten the times mixed up, either. Whenever he'd lost the
shrubbery and got himself the lenses he'd unwrapped
something pretty special. That was no nerd. He looked
like Sean Connery with an American accent, when she'd
confidently been expecting Pee-Wee Herman. And her
Swiss banker look hadn't taken him in for a millisecond.
It was just like being back at Dolan in her first week,


z38

when she'd got everything wrong and stumbled round
with her face permanently set to strawberry.

Nina began combing through the financial reports.
Boring stuff about interest rates and EC budget quotas.
But Dragon stock was up significantly. That must be
Tony's latest raft of disposals; he was getting sharper and
deadlier every day.

A small heading in the Marketing section of the FT
caught her eye. A nice photo of Dragon Gold, the new
vitamin pill, in new packaging. The revamped label was
bold even in black and white, and showed a Dragon
sitting on a hoard of vitamin pills. A raft of slogans
jumped out of the text: Dragon Gold - Go for It; Ill
Getting Gold; Gold not Cold; Golden Wonders. Despite
her mood, Nina started grinning. Then she stopped.

The next picture was very familiar. Too familiar. Lady
Elizabeth. Savage, posing her lean, hard body in a new
skisuit, black with gold detailing. Skis resting against her
shoulders, holding up a bottle of pills and smiling that
arrogant smile.

'British Olympic hope Elizabeth Savage launching
Dragon Gold in Kitzbiihel yesterday. Breaking her training
to supervise the launch, Savage has commissioned a
bold ad campaign that seems to have been an instant hit.
UK retailers' advance orders are high, and with Savage
also personally involved, Dragon Gold looks set to
become an important retail line for the UK giant.'

Nina felt a thin coat of ice settle on her heart.
Elizabeth's launch plans had been faxed to her last week
and ignored. Who cares what the princess does with her
stupid pill? But this looked good. Amazingly so. She
reread the piece and stopped dead at the order figures.
Goddamn, that was terrific. There was no denying it. It's
got to be a massage by the sales department, Nina
thought, then shook her head. No. There was no way
Tony would hand Elizabeth any extra credit.


z39

She made herself look carefully at some of the followup
slogans, due to be wheeled out next month. After
novelty, Elizabeth had decided to use the pill's medical
advantage, calcium and iron together. Again, the line was
short and sweet - 'Blood. Bones. Brilliant.'

Nina called for the check and pushed the papers away.
She didn't know anything about advertising, but she
trusted her instincts. They were screaming. Underestimating
your enemies was a dumb mistake, and clearly,
Elizabeth had hit paydirt.

It doesn't bother me, Nina thought. So she's got some
talent? Great. It takes more than talent to survive out
there. Assuming she doesn't scamper off to Texas with
the playboy.

, If Elizabeth was more of a danger than she'd thought,
Elizabeth would be more fun to bury. Simple as that.

Nina glanced back at the grinning picture before she
threw the text away. She longed to wipe the grin off that
rich-girl face.


'Come in,' Namath said grinning, opening the door for
her. He was wearing a grubby white lab coat and tinted
goggles, but she could still see the faint trace of mockery
behind the eyes. 'Lilly's just in the kitchen, waiting for
you.'

Nina followed him inside, taking a deep breath. They'd
probably been laughing at her all morning long, but she
had to be in control here. As far as these people knew,
she was an angel from heaven bearing gifts: secure
funding, top equipment, fat salaries. Namath and Hall
were fly-by-night researchers, hawking their projects
round hospitals and drug firms; they had to be up for
this. She wasn't going to be shaken just because Namath
had opened the door semi-naked.

The kitchen was clean and functional. They'd converted
this building themselves; the table looked through


z4o

a reinforced glass window over the lab, where pigs and
rabbits were crouched in wire cages and computers
perched on tables strewn with messy notes. Dr Lilly Hall did resemble her picture, short and squat. She was
wearing blue slacks and a red shirt, sitting at the table
sipping an Orangina.

'Dr Hall, I'm Nina Roth,' Nina said confidently,
leaning over and shaking her hand. 'I'm with Dragon.
We'd like to talk to you about a joint venture.'

'So take a seat. We're listening,' Harry Namath said.
Nina sat.

'You look pretty young to be a pharmaceutical exec,'
Lilly Hall commented. She was unimpressed by Nina's
expensive suit. Nina also guessed she might be irritated

by her looks. 'How old are you?'

'Twenty-eight,' Nina lied.

Harry Namath snorted. Quickly she moved on. 'Doctor,
we're aware of your recent biochemical work on
pigs. We're very impressed and we'd like you to come
and work for us, exclusively. We have a heavy package
on offer including your own lab and guaranteed noninterference
in your research. We understand how Hall/
Namath do things.'

'Done your homework, yeah?'

'What do you want us to work on?' Harry asked.
'Same area.' I don't want you at all, flyboy, Nina
thought, but I gotta kiss your butt to get Lilly here. 'We
don't like to get too specific before you're actually on
board.'

'Well, I wanna know,' Dr Hall insisted. The Aussie
accent was as thick as sourdough.
'Slimming pills, Lil.' Harry regarded Nina. 'That's
what they all want. Especially Dragon: they hired Steele
and Ripley--'

'Strewth!' Lilly laughed rudely. 'Is that right? That
what you're after?'

Nina's fingers balled into a fist under the table. 'Yes,
ma'am,' she said calmly. 'You've seen the benefits we're
offering. Plus autonomy. You'll get full funding and
remuneration but be free to do things your way. All the
other big firms have tried to stuff you into suits and ties.'

Lilly Hall looked up at her partner. Harry shrugged. 'I
want to go back to London,' she said eventually. 'You

cover relocation as well?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'Then if we can work it out, legally, I'm game.'

Nina froze. Just like that? She had them? Could it
really be that easy?

'But we'll want more money. And a legal guarantee,
we're in charge, you just own the results,' Harry Namath
said.

'There's no more money,' Nina said authoritatively.

'You already have our absolute best offer.'

Dr Namath stood up slowly and looked her up and
down. Then he opened the kitchen door out of the
hallway.

"OK, well, thanks for dropping by,' he said.

'What?' Nina said.

'Come on, kid. We've both been around the block a

few times more than you. You'll go, best guess, fifty per
cent higher than your "absolute best", and believe me,
you'll need to. Or I just get right on to Glaxo.' Namath
picked up an imaginary phone. 'Yeah, hi, is that legal?'
Cause Dragon are lying in front, of us with their skirts up
and their legs open, but they're only offering a quarter
mil ...'

'OK. OK.' Nina knew she was scarlet. 'It's negotiable.'


'And I want to deal with a lawyer on the cash,' Lilly
added, 'no offence, kid.'

This is about the deal, it's not personal, Nina told
herself, biting her lip. 'Sure.'

'That's better.' Harry Namath's face was straight but
Nina heard the laugh in his voice. 'If we're gonna work
together we've got to be able to trust what you tell us.
Like, for example, how old are you?'

Nina couldn't believe it. She swallowed hard. 'I'm
twenty-two.'

'Really,' Lilly Hall said, rather coldly.

'But I went into work straight from school. I've
worked in retail, at Dolan MacDonald and now Dragon.
I have years of experience.' Nina knew she was justifying
herself but she couldn't stop. 'My computerisation
programmes at both Dolan and Dragon were instituted
across the whole of the US. I'm a senior New Products
manager, and,' she added with an acid stare at Namath,
'it was my research that discovered the breakthrough
pharmacologies you've been working on.'

Dr Hall.nodded. Nina got to her feet, leaving a couple
of business cards on the table. She'd done it, she'd got
them. That was what she should focus on, not the fact
that the good-looking cowboy in the goggles and white
coat had just utterly humiliated her.

'I'll see you out,' said Harry Namath.

He walked her to the door. Nina offered him her hand.

Namath shook it. He had a dry, firm grip. 'Brooklyn,
right?'

'Right,' Nina said flatly.

He shook his head. 'Twenty-two. Pretty funny, but
then it was a good save.'

She smiled slightly. 'Maybe it.was.'

'I'm an American too, kiddo. You can't putit past me.'
'My name is Nina, Dr Namath.'

He fielded the rebuke easily. 'Only if mine's Harry. So,
your lawyer will be in touch, we'll talk again.'

'Right.' She glanced up the street, looking for a cab.
'Hey Nina,' Harry said, 'great suit.'
'Thanks,' Nina muttered.


z43

He closed the door.


Tony Savage picked up his phone with a shiver of
pleasure. Sex rippled through him now whenever he
heard any mention of Nina's name. She'd been away for
a week. He wanted her to get through her deals quickly
and get back. He was missing her softness and prickly

ambition; lays like Nina didn't grow on trees.

'Go ahead, m'lord.'

'Nina? I read your fax. Good work.'

'Thank you, sir.'

Tony grinned. She wouldn't use his first name on a
company phone. Whether it was paranoia or her stupid
pretence that she separated business and pleasure, he
didn't care. He liked Nina to call him sir; for her he was
great God from whom all blessings flowed.

'How long is it going to take for you to wrap things
up? You're missed around here.'

'A while yet. Legal is on it, but I want to get to know
them. Dr Hall is thorny, but she knows exactly what
she's doing.'

'And Henry Namath?'

There was a pause. 'Harry's real interesting, sir. No
bullshit. When we talk about computers, he's ... intense.
He'll go with us if he thinks it's right for Lilly.'

'You like him.' Tony was surprised. 'Good. It'll be
helpful in getting them to commit. Just don't like him too much, there's a girl.' Nina said nothing, so he ploughed
on. 'Maybe I should come out there, Nina, get a sit-rep,'
Tony added, silkily.

'I can fax you detailed reports. You don't need to come OUt.'

Tony glanced .down at the receiver. 'No. You don't
understand. Maybe I want to come out. And how's
Elizabeth?'


z44

'I don't know, sir. I'm seeing Lady Elizabeth next
week. Where she's training.'

Tony grunted. 'What about her and Jack?'

'As I said, I don't know. I've been busy with Harry.'
'It's important to me to know the state of that
relationship, Nina. It's a priority for me. Remember?
Namath can get on just fine without you. My priorities
are the ones that count. Don't forget it. Do you
understand me?'

'I understand you perfectly, Lord Caerhaven.'

Tony flipped through the thick, gold-leaved pages of
his desk diary. 'First Saturday of the month. I think I'll
come over. To your apartment. We can have a chinwag
before I fly out to Elizabeth. You'll enjoy that.'

There was a small silence. 'I might not be free on that
Saturday.'

'No, you're not free. You're tied up with me,' Tony
said.

He hung up. The pleasurable frisson had vanished
completely. Tony glanced at the phone, then across his
desk to the latest bunch of reports from sales. After the
success of Dragon Gold, his wretched daughter had
started taking matters into her own hands. They were
small things, both of them, but not to be tolerated. Tony
had learned early on that rebellion was there to be
stamped on. In London, Switzerland, or anywhere else.

And the natives were getting restless.

z45


Chapter z5


'Yeah, the response is fantastic,' Jake Ansom's voice
crackled down the hotel telephone. 'Boots just put in
another major order. Central buying says they're thinking
of stocking it as standard.'.

'Brilliant.' Elizabeth grinned. 'What about the independents?'

Village chemists were important too. She wanted her
pill to be flying off shelves everywhere, right now, while
it was still hot. They wouldn't allocate advertising money
for ever. Elizabeth had spent months going over boring
sales projections and histories for lots of their past
brands. Now it was paying off. Once Dragon Gold was a
household name, half the battle was won.

'You've got a real instinct for this stuff,' Jake said.
'Everybody's talking about it.'

Elizabeth laughed. 'Look, I want to launch in France.

And put a major push into hospitals.'

'Hospitals? But--'

'Trust me, OK? Then we need to talk to water
companies. Vittel, Evian ...'

Jake snorted. 'Bottled water? That's never going to
catch on. Why should anybody pay for water? You get it
free out of the tap.'

'Just set it up, Jake.' Elizabeth didn't mind his teasing,
she was brimming with confidence. The years of reading
trade magazines and pinning up Clio award-winning ads
on her walls were all bearing fruit. Ideas were tumbling
out of her like water bursting through a dam. And


z46

Elizabeth knew what the stakes were. She had something
to prove. By the time she was through, not even Daddy
would ignore her any more.

Jake was still fretting. 'If you insist, but Liz - you can't

launch in France, just like that.'

'Why not?'

The line to England gave a crackle as though amazed.
'Because it costs money to set it up! Lots of money! You
don't have the authority--'

'I do. I've got total authority for Dragon Gold. But
you're right, it's a waste to set up distribution in just one
foreign country.'

Jake sighed with relief.

'We need to go across the whole continent. No, it's
OK. I spoke to Father this morning, he wants me to go
ahead.' That was a lie, of course, but Jake wouldn't
know it. Everybody at Dragon assumed Tony adored his
only daughter. 'You can check with him, if you need to.'

'No, that's fine,' Jake said hastily. 'I'll get our people in
the local companies--'

'To call me direct. Father's very busy, he doesn't want
to be bothered. That's why he gave me sole responsibility.'


When Ansom rang off she smiled. Maybe she was taking
a risk, lying about Tony, spending millions, but someone
else would soon discover how to link calcium and iron.
Right now they had a USP, as Procter & Gamble would
say, a unique selling point.

I know how this company wgrks, Elizabeth thought,
her heart quickening with excitement. As her father's
daughter, nobody would question her. And with the
power and wealth of Dragon right behind her, she could
launch her product and make a success of it Europe-wide
before anybody had time to stop her.

Elizabeth launched herself into her warm-up routine,
flexing, stretching. Outside a new blanket of snow had.


z47

covered the mountains and she was late for meeting Hans
and Jack. Oh well, they could talk theory for a bit. It was
going to take some doing, supervising Gold and training
hard, but she was sure she could handle it. Like they said
round the office, if you want something done, ask a busy
person.

Surely this boldness would win Tony over. That was
the way he worked: jump first, ask questions later. Tony
was always saying that the person swearing it couldn't be
done was run over by the person who just did it. It was
daring, ruthless daring, that had made the Robber Baron
- why shouldn't it make his daughter?

She grabbed her lilac skisuit with the iridescent stripes.
Success made her feel romantic. The skintight Lycra was
what she'd been wearing during her first battles with
Jack. It hugged her tight butt and chiselled quads, and it
shimmered thousands of rainbows as she plunged down
the slopes, flashing bright as a starling's wing.

Elizabeth was annoyed with Jack for not calling, but
she shoved that feeling aside. Today they'd be skiing
again, skiing together, for the first time since she got to
Switzerland. She twisted her glossy hair into a neat
ponytail and picked up her goggles. No forests, no
avalanches, God, this was going to be fun.


Elizabeth smiled softly at the bowing concierge as she left
the Hotel M611er. It was one of the most exclusive in
Klosters, unmarked from the Outside, at first glance just
another gingerbread-gabled townhouse in the heart of the
old town. Places like the MiSller did not advertise for
guests. Hans knew the proprietress, so Elizabeth got the
best of both worlds: as much privacy as you could get in
the Olympic capital, stately courteousness and old-fashioned
elegance, but also a first-class suite wired with
faxes, three phone lines and even a small Quotron
terminal, linked to the markets via Zurich. That was for


z48

the gnomes, rich Swiss financiers who used the M611er
regularly. And despite the apparent rustic nature of the
receptionists, they were ruthless on the phone. No
journalist had scammed his way through to Elizabeth yet.
The first night she arrived they camped outside the door;
but when one tabloid hack tried sneaking into the lobby
two gigantic bouncers had appeared silently from
nowhere. The press let her alone.

It all came at a price, of course, but Elizabeth didn't
worry about that. She charged it as a business expense
and used her Dragon corporate Amex. Well, she couldn't
ask Ronnie Davis to fork out for it, and the other girls
were still sulking in St Moritz.

She caught the cable-car up to Gotschnagrat. Klosters
dropped away beneath them, and Elizabeth's heart lifted
along with her stomach; the sun was brilliant in crisp
blue sky,-new snow on the mountains glittering like
powdered glass. Skiers were out in force, neon specks
blazing over the runs, hundreds-and-thousands spattered
on ice cream. This was skiing, this was coming home.
Rocky crops and plunging walls of ice vanished below
them as they moved on. Everything was so vast in the
roof of the world; the sky so close you could touch it,
crevasses that would drop you straight into hell.

Elizabeth moved among the tourists. She kept her dark
goggles on so she wouldn't be bothered. Now Klosters
was some brown speckles on the snow, they were passing
Davos, with its dreary purpose-built blocks and endless
lift queues. Traffic was toytown cute from the cable-car
windows, bright sun flashes sparking from tiny windscreens.
She felt an edgy knot in her gut as she looked
down. Funny, you really felt how high up you were in
one of these, whereas a plane seemed clinical and safe.
Sometimes a car would stop for a few moments, and
hang reaking over the void. That always scared her.
Maybe it was too many Bond flicks: they made you'


z49

expect a wheel failure, a lurch southwards, sickening
drops into a fireball death. Chairlifts were worse. Years
out on the circuit, and Elizabeth still thought that was a
dodgy idea, park benches that flew. She never told Hans
about her little phobias, he'd have teased her unmercifully.
And as for Jack ...

Elizabeth grinned at that thought as she stepped out at
the Gotschna station, selected a flat patch of snow and
buckled on her skis. Rossignol had custom-made these
for her; they slid and turned, almost weightlessly, slicing
and twisting in motion like part of herself. The snow was
good, well packed but not icy, and the air at altitude had
a perfect champagne sparkle. Just a few brave souls were
pushing off towards the start of the Gotschnawang, and

' she recognised Hans straight off; you couldn't mistake
that ramrod stance, nor the incongruous shock of white
hair under the ancient goggles.

She glided over with one effortless push. 'Giiten
Morgen, mein Herr, wie geht's Ihnen?'

'Elizabeth!' Hans smiled, clapping one mitt on her
shoulder. 'You are well? Good!' He glanced her over
critically. 'Ach, not bad. It almost seems that you are fit.
But fitness in the gymnasium does not equal speed on the
slopes. All winter Heidi Laufen has been practising, and
you are dabbling in business. What have you to show for
it?'

Elizabeth grinned. Same old Hans. 'Maybe something
big, in a couple of months.'

The old man's face creased. 'In a couple of months, you will see something big. Heidi Laufen with an
Olympic Gold.'

'I don't think so. You don't get them for second place.'
'So,' Herr Wolf was sarcastic, 'you think Louise Levier
will beat her to it?'

'I'm not that bad, boss, I'll show you,' Elizabeth said
cheerfully. She waved down the plunging drops of the

zSO


Gotschnawang run with a ski-pole. Ski-instructors scared
tourists with tales of this one; the Wang route to the
south was unmarked, full of stomach-lurching dives and
vicious mogul fields. If you were trying to crunch your
way back into contention, there was no time for easing
into it. Elizabeth's nipples tightened pleasantly from
more than the cold. She'd been looking forward to taking
this on with Jack, the adrenalin, bobsled-speed, his hard

quads and glutes straining and pushing beside her ...
'OK. We go.' Hans pushed off.
'Wait! Where's Jack?'

'Jack?' Wolf blinked; his mind was already locked into
the run. 'You were late.'

'You mean he's left?' Elizabeth asked. 'He can't have
done, Hans, I'm only fifteen minutes--'

']a, ia." Hans was impatient. 'He is by now halfway
down. Ho-said, this is too important to waste time, he
does not like waiting. Maybe at the bottom he stays for
you, maybe he takes the gondola to Parsenn.'

'I see,' Elizabeth said coldly. She couldn't believe it.
Son-of-a-bitch, selfish, arrogant bastard! Fifteen bloody
minutes! First he didn't ring her, now he wouldn't wait
for her ... As she followed Hans over to the lip of the first
schuss, Elizabeth ran over all the moments they'd had
since he presented her with her little platinum ski. There
weren't that many of them, really. Phone calls in the
office, mostly brief news updates on their lives.

Jack's platinum trinket pressed against her collarbone
as she thrust off from the top. Instantly her reflexes took
over as her body hugged the ice, her stomach floating fifty
yards behind her as she flew behind her coach. Elizabeth
flicked into ski mode like she'd turned on a light, keeping
her eyes a hundred yards in front, turning to the left
cleanly. The slicing edges of her skis threw up a small arc
of ice. She barrelled left again, then right, hugging Hans's
tracks so perfectly you could hardly tell there were two'

people on the track. But Jack was still in the back of her
mind, even while she concentrated on her technique.
Resentment lay clammy over her heart. Maybe she'd
been right the first time. Jack Taylor just lived for the
chase, and now he'd had her, he was going to--

Elizabeth swung right a fraction too late in an ugly
turn, the angle was huge. Hans glanced behind him and
frowned as Elizabeth ducked her head, abashed. Bloody
Jack had put her off. A howler like that could lose you a
third of a second, maybe more, if it happened on race
day. Her annoyance intensified. Maybe Vanessa, or
Clarisse or all Jack's other groupies put up with it, but
she wasn't going to.

You'd better buck your ideas up, mate, or else'
'Elizabeth, lieber Gott!" Hans grumbled, as she
smoothly fell in beside him. 'Horrible, you ski like a

farmer's wife, and slow as a cow.'

'Sorry,' Elizabeth mumbled.

'Sorry won't save you.' On a small flat patch Hans
carved to a full stop, Elizabeth just fast enough to match
him. Her coach was shaking his head. 'Come, show me
something, Friiulein, the World Champion I ski with!
Where is your head? Not on the schuss.' The bright old
eyes watched her clearly. 'Heidi pines for her Jungen only after she skis. Forget him for now.'

'I wasn't thinking about Jack!' Elizabeth protested
hotly.

'No?' Hans said shrewdly.

Elizabeth flung herself into he next barrelling drop
before Herr Wolf saw the blush on her face. Was she
really that obvious? It was embarrassing. And he was
bloody well right, Taylor wasn't worth it.

With a wrench she turned her gaze to the plummeting
white track before her, settling her body lower towards
the ground, feeling the gradient in her belly. She hurtled
forwards so fast it seemed her skis barely grazed the

snow, flying over the ice crystals until the horizons were
bleeding into each other. Hans dropped behind her, and
all the world was whiteness and freefall, angles and
sticks, her strong muscles twisting and leaping. The
Wang run fired her downwards to its finish like a bolt
from a crossbow.

No posts announced the end of the piste. The kind of
skier that tackled the Gotschnawang runs didn't need
them. Elizabeth simply ground to a halt, a vertical wave
of powder pluming up behind her like the tail of a giant
white peacock. She ripped her goggles from her head and
stood there panting, still recocering when Hans zoomed
the last schuss a full nine seconds behind her.

']a,' Wolf gasped, breathing hard himself. His eyes
twinkled. 'That is the girl I remember. You are now fast.
But reckless.'

'Overcautious, undercautious,' Elizabeth grumbled.
'Speed and skill. That is what we need. But with much
work we shall have it.' Hans brightened and waved at the
car& 'A schnapps? We will celebrate, but it will be the

last before the Games.'

'What?'

'No alcohol. Also early bed, strict diet, no caffeine,'
Hans said happily as Elizabeth unlocked her boots.

Great, Elizabeth thought glumly, trudging up the
wooden steps behind him. Skiers sipping their citrons
presses or Gliibweins gawked at them, whether it was
recognition or just the speed of their arrival she didn't
know. As Hans led her inside, the familiar waft of
frankfurters, soup and cheese with black bread hit her. A
pine-log fire crackled in one corner and her heart rate
dropped steadily. That was good; real fitness meant quick
recovery, and

'Hello, milady,' Jack Taylor said. He was perched on a
barstool, drinking mineral water, wearing the red, white
and blue suit of the US team. Obviously the recognition


z53

thing is not too much of a problem for you, Elizabeth
thought, swiftly clocking at least five Swiss girlies with
their eyes constantly flickering Jack's way. Hell, why not?
He looked great, as usual: bronzed, huge, the dark hair
cropped a little tighter than when she last saw him, the
cruel mouth set in that maddeningly confident way.
Maybe it was the snow. Or the suit. In a Savile Row
three-piece Jack looked a real babe; but in a skisuit, out
here, he looked like a champion. A world beater with the
gold already reserved. How great it would be, Elizabeth
thought a little sourly, if I had no competition.

'Jack,' she said. What was he expecting, a fucking
ticker-tape welcome? 'Are you coming up to the Weissflu

joch? We're just going to have a quick schnapps.'
'You're drinking alcohol?' Jack asked.

'Yeah.' She heard herself get curt. 'I'm not a Muslim.'
Jack put some money on the bar and waved at Hans.
'No, I want to do some Strela blacks. You were late,
Elizabeth.'

'It was only a quarter of an hour,' Elizabeth said
angrily. 'You were rude, Jack, you should have waited

for me.

Jack shrugged. 'Sugar, I wouldn't ask you to wait. You
want to drink schnapps, relax your schedules, ski
tramlines like the Weissflu? It's the Olympics. I never
screwed up a schedule in my life for anything, especially
not for manners.'

'Nice to see you too.'

'Hey. I'm thrilled to see you. Look, if it was anyone
else, I'd be on the gondola right now, but I gave you guys
an extra five minutes to get here.'

Elizabeth was furious. 'Look, Jack, don't do me any favours, all right?'

'What's your problem?' the Texan demanded, brown
eyes narrowing.

'I don't have one.'

z54


'I'm letting you train with me, Elizabeth,' Jack said

softly. 'Wouldn't do it for any other female. This ism'
'The Olympics, yeah, so I gathered. And I know what
you think of females. But you needn't bother yourself,'
Elizabeth snapped. 'I'm skiing a tramline run right now.'

Jack looked at her for a few seconds. Then he said,
'OK,' casually, waved at Hans and stood up. 'I'll call you
tonight.'

Elizabeth turned away to pick up her schnapps. 'Like I
said, don't do me any favours.'

She picked up her glass and sipped it slowly, listening
to Jack's heavy footfalls as he clumped out to the terrace.

'Problems?' Hans asked, but Elizabeth shook her head.
She started to talk techniques with the coach, while
glaring at one of the adoring Swiss girlies, who was
irritatingly staring at her as if she were mad.

z55


Chapter z6


'Great, so we'll complete next week.' Nina was filing
more notes as she talked to Luc Viera. She rubbed her
aching temples; it was the end of another long, busy day.
She'd been setting up contracts and offices and new
administrative structures; she dreamed of figures, she
woke up with crunching migraines and rows of accouno
tant's print swimming before her eyes.

A shadow fell over her desk. Nina looked up.

Dr Henry Namath, Dragon Inc.'s latest contractual
supplier, was looming over her. He wore a pair of jeans
and a Yankees sweatshirt. Behind him Frau Bierhof,
Nina's new assistant, was looking outraged. Obviously
Harry had barged past her. As usual.

Nina sighed. 'Hold on, Luc.' She looked at him,
exasperated. 'Harry, what's wrong with the phone?'

'Nothing. If you answered it.' Namath pointed to the

pile of message slips on her desk.

Nina shrugged; if it was Tony, legal or a vital call,
Steffi Bierhof let her know, otherwise, sure, she ignored
them. Who had time? 'Can't it, wait? Guess not. OK.
Look, Luc, Dr Namath's here, I have to go. You know
the fax in my apartment, right? I'll check the details
tonight.'

She hung up. 'OK, Dr Namath, I'm all yours.'

'Great,' he said, pulling her coat from the rack. 'Let's

go find a restaurant.'

'We'll discuss it here. I have too much work to do,
and--'

z56


'Nina.' Namath bent over her, his black hair and blue
eyes seriously distracting. 'Let me tell you something.

Biochemical principle. The human body needs food.'
'Really, I--'

'And mental agility suffers without it. Come on, it's an
investment, it'll stop you screwing up from low blood
sugar.'

Nina couldn't stop a tiny smile as she accepted her
coat.

'That's better.' Namath looked her over with a forty
watt grin. 'Come on, I got a table. Best place in town.'

Well, she was hungry, Nina rationalised as she followed
him out.


The cab pulled up off the D6rfli and Nina stepped out,
looking at the narrow Gothic houses, antique shops,
caf6s and bookstores mingling with underground nightclubs.
That was Zurich, if you had time to enjoy it.
Grimm's fairy tales by day, Soho by night. She felt too
exhausted to be appreciative, wondered what Namath
had in mind: another fancy Swiss eatery, full of bankers
and ladies in furs, unpronounceable dishes and alcohol
strong enough to fuel rockets. If she ate one more lamb

and dandelion salad she was going to explode.

'So, we're going somewhere ethnic?'

'Very ethnic.' Namath pushed her to the right and

pointed. 'The Hard Rock Caf.'

Nina laughed.

'Well, American is ethnic,' Namath said, grinning, 'and
I felt like Bud and a cheeseburger, I hope you don't
mind.'

They were shown to a small table in the back. It was
cramped and in sight of the kitchen but Nina couldn't
have cared less; it was dark, busy, full of American
babble and waiters carrying trays piled with fries and ice
cream. A girl materialised right away and Harry asked


z57

for a cheeseburger, beer and fudge melt chocolate cake.
Nina went for grilled chicken and Diet Coke, with a fruit
salad.

'That's really going to do your cholesterol a lot of
good.'

'So now you're worried about my cholesterol?' Dr
Namath asked.

Nina blushed. Harry had been a hellish pain in the
butt; he ran their lawyers ragged, he insisted on supervising
all the lab details, wouldn't buckle on a goddamned
thing. Once the ink was dry, Lilly Hall had gotten the
best terms any Dragon contractor had ever had. She had
to admire Namath, he knew what he was doing.
Impressive for such a young guy, but like Harrison Ford

'once said, it's not the age, honey, it's the mileage. Young
kids were coming up everywhere. The eighties was the
decade of the entrepreneur. Even if Namath didn't fit the
red-braces-with-dollar-signs stereotype. For a man who'd
be a millionaire in less than two years, Harry dressed like
a workman.

But face to face he was real attractive. The logician's
brain came gift-wrapped: short hair, raven black, and
sharp azure eyes. He had none of Tony's powerful
elegance. Namath was brutish to look at, stubborn,
annoyingly light hearted; getting his own way while
refusing to take life seriously. Nina thought about him
often, caught herself, and tried to stop. She told herself it
was her scientific side, how could she not admire a man
who thought in code, a mathematician who could read

numbers like a language?

'Well ...'

'I can handle it. Or maybe you think I'm too fat.'
Nina was forced to glance at his body under the loose
shirt. Nice, very nice. He was big but lean, well balanced,
one of those naturally strong guys who didn't need the gym.


z58

'What did you want to discuss? Lilly's bonus? It's
being credited to her tomorrow. The lab? That's ready to
inspect Monday. Or was there another contract problem?
I hope not because we've moved on from that ...'

'None of the above.' Namath dipped a handful of fries
in barbecue sauce. 'I wanted to talk about us.'

'Us? I thought we'd straightened those problems out,
Harry. I know you think I've been harsh but--'

'Harsh? You're a nightmare. I buckled in to you more

times than I want to think about.'

'Like hell,' Nina said.

Harry smiled. 'I mean us. Now it's a done deal. You

and me. Dates.'

'Dates?'

'Dates. You remember them,' Harry said maddeningly,
'not the d.ried fruit or the calendar kind, you must have
had some. Girls like you don't get away without them.'

'Girls like me?' Nina repeated stupidly. It was dumb,
but with those clear eyes looking right at her she felt silly,
like an idiot teenager. Somehow she'd never expected
this. Namath was mildly flirtatious with every female,
and they'd fought so much, and she was the corporate
enemy ...

'Girls who are so radiantly lovely,' Harry said.

Nina blushed deeper. She had no idea how to react.
Nobody had ever said anything like that to her in her life
-. it was always catcalls, or 'babe', or Tony's explicit
praise. She was used to Tony .making her feel like an
erotic sculpture. Did he really call me radiant? she

thought, and felt strange, different. Vulnerable and shy.
'I don't have boyfriends,' she said flatly.

'Good. I don't want you to have boyfriends, I want
you to have me,' Harry said, taking a bite of his
cheeseburger. He looked like he was loving it. Nina
flashed on Tony, eating and drinking with perfect'


z59

restraint. In public the earl was always totally dignified,
the Robber Baron, impeccable and ice cold.

'No. It's nothing personal, but I tried it once and it
didn't work.'

'Some guy treated you bad?'

'You don't want to know.'

'You're wrong there, toots, I want to know everything.'

'It's private,' Nina said coldly. 'Happened a long time
ago.' Yeah, when I was a different person on another
planet. Nina brushed the beautifUlly cut cotton of her
moss-green Martine Sitbon jacket, matched with a white
silk shirt. Her strength, her hardness, had taken her from
that girl to this one. Tony Savage she could handle. She
'wasn't scared of him. But right now she was very, very

scared of Harry Namath.

'OK.' He accepted that, but wasn't put off. 'So that
means what? You're going to punish every other man
you meet for the rest of your life?'

'I'm nor going to punish anybody, I just don't want to
deal with it.' Nina stabbed defiantly at her chicken. 'I have enough on my plate. I'm trying to build a career.'

'Surprisingly enough, I had noticed that. But that's no
way to live, you can't take a computer to bed with you at
night. Do you read Kipling? The lust So stories?'

'No,' Nina said, smiling faintly at the thought of her
ever having time to read fiction.

'You should do.' Harry looked across at the young
woman in front of him, groomed, self-possessed, lifetimes
older than her age. There was something in that beautiful
face he couldn't read, some veil those dark eyes were
pulling down. God, but Nina was so lovely, dark hair
round her face like a thundercloud, cheekbones like
knife-slashes in her pale face. He had ached for her since
the second he first saw her, then his lust had mixed with
something else; he'd never known a girl like her,

2.60


breathlessly efficient, such a worker, so organised and
pushy and quick. It was easy to tell she'd never been
educated, but she was ,ividly smart. Nina was it. Weird
and obsessive, but she was it, she was the one for him.
And vice versa. Harry wanted to rip all that armour off
and make her see it too.

'There's one about you. The animal who doesn't need
anybody, just sways around all day, going, "I am the cat
who walks by himself." '

' "I am the cat who walks by himself" ?' Nina smiled
despite herself. 'I like that.'

'Even cats need company. It'll be wild, we can discuss
Turing machines and Church's lambda calculus under the
stars.'

'Don't tempt me.'

'See? You're laughing,' Namath said triumphantly.
'Come or, try being happy for a while, what could it
hurt? If you don't like it you can always go back to being
miserable.'

He winked at her and Nina felt a warm flush of desire
lap around her belly and tighten between her legs. Oh
God. She should never have agreed to dinner. She wanted
him now, wanted him pretty badly. But of course, that
was impossible.

'I can't go out with you.'

'You're in love with somebody else?'

'No!' That idea was so off-base she really did laugh.
'Definitely not. I just need my independence.'

'Independence, hell. You're terrified of me,' Harry said
shrewdly.

Nina tilted her head. It was such an arrogant, lovely
movement he wanted to reach over and kiss her.

'I'm terrified of nothing. But I don't want a man,
Harry, it's not compulsory.'

'Then a friend. I could do with some company.'
'You've got Lilly.'


z6i

'Lilly? No, we're just professional partners. She likes
classical opera and shit that bores the hell out of me. And
she's nuts about her work, whereas I like to switch off.'

Nina weakened. What could that hurt? Could it hurt?
She'd never had a real friend since Frank Malone. Now
he was making her think about it, she was lonely, she did
feel ... 'But you don't mean friends. You'll just try and
take advantage.'

'Nina.' Harry reached over and grabbed her hand. His
fingers felt rough and calloused, covered in tiny scars and
burns from acids or Bunsen burners. 'I swear to you, I
won't do a single thing to you you don't ask for. In so
many words.'


Tony rang Nina a week later. 'Getting on OK, darling?'

'Fine,' she said. She launched into a summary of the
new division she was setting up, a restructuring of all
their research projects. It was Nina's idea to have their
various teams - human, medicinal, animal and supply all
report to the same people. That way knowledge would
bd pooled. It was already starting to pay off: a useless
side-effect in a Dutch team's experiment was the clue
their coronary people had been looking for. And Lilly
was a landed fish now. Nina was confident.

'I know all that.' Tony was brisk. 'Stock's up two and
an eighth. I'd like you to knock something out for the
quarterly newsletter.'

'Sure.' Nina was pleased. Their newsletter for analysts
was important to Dragon; it led to big orders from the
pension funds and institutionals. Now she'd really get

noticed. 'I'll get a promotion for this, and a rise?'
'You just had one.'

'Come on, Tony, Dragon's about results not tenure!'
There was silence on the end of the line. 'Where were
you last night? I got the machine. Same thing on
Wednesday.'


6

Nina looked down at the phone she was holding and
felt a soft chill dance across her spine. 'I was out.'

'Really?' Caerhaven's voice was measured. 'With
whom?'

Never complain, never explain, Nina thought. 'With
Harry Namath.'

'Of course, the charming Dr Namath. You went to the
ballet, or the theatre? How delightful.'

Nina's heart thudded against her ribcage. 'Uh, we went
to the movies. An Officer and a Gentleman.'

'Maybe we should get you home, darling. He sounds
like a bad influence. Just as we were getting you civilised,
you start watching drivel like that.'

Nina said nothing. She'd loved the movie. Maybe she
was meant to identify with Debra Winger, although she
felt like Gere instead; she knew what it was like to have a
worthless lush of a father and grow up feeling like dirt.
Something in Savage's voice warned her not to say that,
however.

'I spoke to Lady Elizabeth's coach yesterday. She's
moved up to Klosters, away from the team hotel, so she
can train with Jack Taylor.'

That was a lie. She'd been too stretched to give the
Sloany bitch a second thought, but Tony would explode
if he thought she'd ignored his orders.

'That sounds promising, but you should go yourself.

I'll call her and tell her you're coming.'

'OK.'

'You don't sound too enthusiastic, darling, but I think
I can cheer you up. Tell you what, knock that newsletter

into shape for me and we'll talk about it.'

'Why can't we do that now?'

'No. I mean face to face,' Tony said warmly. 'I actually
found some space. I'll be in Zurich next Friday.'


Harry picked her up on Wednesday night, late enough so


z63

Frau Bierhof was gone and she didn't have any excuse to
hand. Night was falling outside the office window, the
phones had stopped trilling and even the fax machine
was silent. He found her crouched over her IBM, tapping
away obliviously, her face lit up in a ghostly pallor by the
light of the screen. Namath recognised that Nina sunk-inmy-work
look. It was easy enough to sneak up behind
her, lean over the keyboard, punch a few buttons and
shut it off.

'What the hellm' Nina shouted.

'Calm down, kid, I haven't lost your work, it's saved.'
'Are you sure? You better be.'

'Hey, this is Dr Henry Namath, remember, fluent in
processor, computers are my friends.' He yanked her
up from her chair and started waltzing her round
the darkened office, humming the Doctor Dolittle theme. 'Oh I can walk with the monitors, talk to the
monitors ...'

'OK, OK,' Nina said, smiling. What the hell, it was
nine p.m., and she was taking a morning train to
Kltsters. She let Harry throw her her coat and pull her

down the stairs. 'Where are we going?'

'To my apartment.'

She pulled back. 'Hey, Harry ...'

'Where is the trust?' Harry asked rhetorically. 'I told
you, you needn't expect anything from me until you ask
for it. Maybe not even then.'

Nina gave him a suspicious look but climbed into the
cab. She could always brush him off if he decided to try it
on. She tried to ignore the half of her that was longing for
him to do just that. So far he'd been as good as his word:
fun to be with, great company, but nothing more. A peck
on the cheek was all she got when he dropped her home.
Did he really think she was going to ask for more? Was
she going to?

Stop that! Come on, girl, you know he's out of bounds.

He's a prize asset, he's business, you can't risk it, you
don't want to get involved ...

She was wildly curious to see Harry's place. A neat
penthouse on the Niederdorf, a one bedroom with Sports
Illustrated on the couch, a mess in the drawing room,
functional black and white. Thick books on pure mathematics
and piles of computer paper everywhere,
not much luxury apart from a huge TV. But he'd set it
up for her." two chairs in front of the widescreen, home
popped corn, chilled Millers, nachos, a large bowl of
M&Ms ...

Nina burst out laughing as Harry reached for the
remote and pressed play. The screen flickered into life,
the CBS commentators started yelling, goddamn, it was
the Superbowl, last year's final she'd complained to him
she missed.

'Have a beer,' Harry said, 'I got chilli dogs waiting to
be heated up.'

'Oh, this is great,' Nina said, smiling, 'this is so great--'

Harry walked up to her and kissed her full on the
mouth.

Nina melted. Instantly. It was thermonuclear meltdown,
weak at the knees, her lips parting, his pressing,
her back arching into his arms, his tongue--

'No!' She pushed him away, breathing hard, fought for

control. For time. 'You said you'd wait till I--'

'I lied,' Namath said.

Nina forced herself to sit dow.n and crack open a beer.
'Don't spoil it, Harry. Let's just watch the game, all
right?'

She refused to look back as he went into the kitchen.
She was so turned on, just from that. Oh God, help me,
Nina thought. She wasn't in control any more, she was
out of control. He was so gorgeous. And so smart, and so
sweet. Regret stabbed at her like a dagger. Harry liked


z65

her, because he didn't know her. He just had no idea
what he'd be getting himself into.

She wanted him so badly. She wanted to cry.

2.66


Chapter z7


Nina checked in to the Fluela at noon. She hated Davos.
Huge cinder-block hotels, roads clogged with traffic,
gawking Eurotrash tourists lumping skis and boots on
their way to the endless lift queues. This was town as
theme park: skiing, skiing and more skiing. Snow,
fondues and ugly nylon suits. Elizabeth's world.

She got her room key and went right upstairs. Last
night with Harry had unsettled her, she felt nervous and
edgy. She wasn't like this, her confidence gone and her
armour dented. Tony was turning up tomorrow, and she
didn't even know how she felt about that. Soon it would
be time to transfer back to London, with a promotion.
More money, more status ... I'm writing a section of the analysts" report, Nina reminded herself, staring out of her
window at the icy massifs in front of her. I'll see less of
Harry, I'll get back on track, it'll be great.

She thought about Tony as she dialled Elizabeth's hotel
in the valley below. He .seemed to miss her. That had to
be a plus.

So why was she wishing so hard that he wouldn't show
up?

'Hotel M611er, giiten Tag.'

'Can I speak to Lady Elizabeth Savage? This is Nina
Roth.'

A few seconds before Elizabeth picked up. 'Nina!
Daddy told me I might have the pleasure.'

Nina's confusion vanished in a hot surge of anger. She


z67

said politely, 'I wonder if I could have a few minutes of
your time? Tony would like a progress report.'

'But of course.' Silky limey tones, sounds just like her
papa. 'Would three o'clock suit?'

'Not really. If we meet then I can't get on a train
until--'

'That's the only time I've got today.'

Nina bit her lip so hard it hurt. 'Then three o'clock it
is. I'll come to you.'

'Wonderful. I'll look forward to it.'


She got to Elizabeth's hotel at ten of, after twenty
fruitless minutes tramping Klosters' fairy-tale streets
trying to find it. She was cold and exasperated, her
'Jimmy Choo boots probably ruined, her ass freezing off
under her primrose Galliano skirt. Nina wanted to show
up for the bitch wearing Levi's and a sloppy Joe, Harry
style, but Elizabeth might have reported her to Tony.
Nina knew they hated each other really, but she didn't
understand them any more. And she didn't trust either of
them. As well as the cold, Klosters oppressed her with its
huge Olympic rings everywhere, TV crews on every
corner, the Games paraphernalia limbering up. A picture
of Elizabeth herself, green eyes limpid, gazed out from an
import cover of a British sports magazine.

Jealousy flashed through Nina. Elizabeth had all this,
but it wasn't enough, she wanted her playtime in Daddy's
back yard as well, all the trappings of the businesswoman
without doing one thing to earn them. In Klosters Nina
was forced to think about the loathsome prospect that
Elizabeth actually won an Olympic gold. Then she really
would be famous, she'd be a heroine to the Brits. World
Champion was good, but those things came and went.
The Olympics had that magic. What would Elizabeth do
with leverage like that?

It made her sick just thinking about it. Today she was


z68

here, wasting her time, freezing her butt off, playing a
stupid game - Elizabeth thought Nina was taking a
report on the vitamin pill but all Tony was interested in
was Jack Taylor. Nina smiled grimly as her new boots
scuffed on icy cobbles. Jack, another rich kid, another
snow jock. What was there to admire in skiers, anyway?
Only rich kids could ski. You wouldn't get many
competitors from the Bronx or the East End, not like
running or soccer or something. That must cut the
competition pretty good. Probably ninety per cent of
potential champions would never even see a goddamn
mountain.

Lady Elizabeth's hotel was right next to the Walserhof,
where Charles and Di had stayed last year. It looked rich
but utterly discreet and secure. Nina picked out the
guards right away: burly 'guests' who didn't quite fit in
by the levator, reception area and front door. One of
them caught her assessing look and turned away, not
used to being identified. But I'm not like the press, paisan, Nina thought. We can spot muscle in Brooklyn.

The receptionist showed her to an anteroom and Nina
settled down to wait. And wait. Her anger grew as the
minutes ticked by, her mind on the trains, rearranging
her travel plans. This selfishness was gonna get her home
at nearly midnight.

The door opened and Elizabeth strode in. She was
dressed in some kind of sexy, clingy rainbow-suit with
black sneakers. Goggle-lines marked her tanned face. She
was glowing from exercise, tawny hair pulled back in a
girlish pigtail and her gold signet ring glinting on her left
hand. Elizabeth looked like a convent girl on a school
outing, and this, this, was the kid who fancied herself as
Charles Saatchi, that tried to have Nina fired?

Elizabeth smiled defiantly and dumped a pile of fax
papers on the table.
'Sorry I'm late. Got caught up in a crash on the Strela.


z69

Really vile, one of the Spanish girls twisted her ankle.
She's out, most likely.'

'Oh.' Do I care? Be polite, Nina, be polite. 'Was she a
contender? They can't have much skiing in Spain.'

Elizabeth smiled. 'I suppose you didn't do much
European geography. Spain's got a lot of decent spots Sierra
Nevada, Formigal, Baqueria-Beret ... and anyway,
most people would say I couldn't have much skiing in
England.'

'Unless you'd been to Swiss finishing school,' Nina
said, unable to resist.

Elizabeth inclined her head. Touch. How's Zurich?'
'Busy. We have a lot of ground to cover, it's like setting
up a new business.'
, 'Just like me, then. Why don't you have a look at my

stuff, tell me what you think?' Elizabeth asked.

Nina reached over and took the pile of faxes she was
proffered, pretended to look through them. The ad
slogans seemed snappy enough, there was lots of butt
kissing from France and Germany. She'd check this
rubbish on her way back tonight, just in case, by some
fucking fluke, there was anything interesting in it.

'It's doing very well back home, the sales are still
holding.'

'Yes.' Elizabeth nodded proudly. 'Did you realise that's almost three weeks since our last TV slot ran, and they're still selling?'

'I'll admit, you seem to have a flair for advertising.
'I do indeed. A talent you could have used.'

'I needed you to work on other things. Market research
matters, Lady Elizabeth.'

'Yes, I realise that now,' Elizabeth said coolly. 'As you
can see from my work, I've managed to use what you
made me learn. Now I know more than most account
executives about what our market wants. And when we
tailor the work to that - bingo.'


to
Nina pressed her manicured fingers deep into the table
mat. Oy, I can't take much more of this, with madam
sitting there condescending about geography and telling
me about the market!

'Well, that's about it. How's the skiing coming along?'
'Why do you care?'

Nina flushed. 'It could be good for the product.'

'I suppose that's true. Pretty well, so far, but we'll have
to see,' Elizabeth said vaguely.

'Are you training with your boyfriend?'

Elizabeth seemed to freeze for a second. 'I don't have a
boyfriend.'

What? 'Isn't Jack Taylor your boyfriend?'

'No, Jack's just a friend,' Elizabeth told her. 'We do ski
together. Sometimes. But if I get any free time I spend it
on work, not socialising.'

She flhed Nina a brilliant smile from perfect white
teeth and stood up, extending one hand. 'I must dash,
meeting the coach on the Weissflujoch and the queues are
horrible! Will I see you at the Games? Or maybe in
London. Give Dino my best. And say hello to Father for

me.'

Nina picked up Elizabeth's notes with a sinking heart. lust a friend. Was that a cover, or did she really mean it?
Had they busted up? There were a lot of papers here, it
looked like she was taking it seriously. Maybe in that
bimbo's head she was involved in Dragon for real.

Tony wasn't going to like it. And neither did she.


Elizabeth watched Nina leave from her bedroom window,
the dark hair immaculately styled against the
designer clothes. Roth looked as professional as always.
She could scarcely believe they were the same age. Were
all career women like that, or just the Americans? Nina
Roth had that low-class tough-guy attitude, a real don'tluckwith-me
type. Dad had surrounded himself with


z7x

those men; Elizabeth recalled hundreds of them over the
years, guests at the castle, tennis-tournament partners,
padding the crowd at Monica's receptions. Faceless
stormtroopers with that jungle vibe underneath the
sombre suits, she'd called them 'the piranhas' when she
was a kid. The big difference being that all those lackeys
were male.

While she snapped on her boots and reached for her
racing helmet Elizabeth thought about Nina for a while.
She was sleeping with Tony, but there was something else
there. I have to face up to it, Elizabeth thought, she hates
me, and she's good. She's really good. It made her edgy
when Nina asked about Jack. There was something
behind that - Nina Roth wasn't interested in her love life
... or lack of it - but she'd have to worry about it later.


Elizabeth arrived at Drostobel feeling tense. The sky was
slate blue, thick, pregnant clouds lumbering over the sun,
dappling the slopes with shade, and creating small pools
of vertical beams where the light broke through, like
medieval paintings of divine grace. The air was thick and
close as well as chilly. Hans had been pleased with her
progress so far, she could tell because she spoke fluent
Hans, although to anyone else his endless lectures on
angles and crouches and now we try once more, Frdulein, would seem unbearable. Hans only cheered you once the
medal was won. Or lost.

Her fitness hell in Kent had worked. Cross-training
had given her extra strength and.flexibility. Her records
showed that she'd shaved almost a second off her World
Cup time for the Davos meet. Trouble was you couldn't
count on that - the rumours were that the Swiss team had
also come up with new routines.

Heidi and Louise were skiing the course in Verbier.
The Austrians were in Grindelwald and the French in
Flims, the main contenders spreading themselves out


z7z

amongst the courses by mutual consent. Hans and she
would rotate as well. Heidi and Louise had real good
fortune; every meet was home base for them. And there
was more that upset her. The Strela crash she'd nearly
skied into, Grace Cortez lying there, her foot twisted,
back arched in agony, every skier's nightmare. Poor
Grace, she'd nearly made the top ten last year. Now the
dream had skidded away along with her skis, for these
Games and maybe for ever. Elizabeth's mouth dried up
thinking about that. They were all just one fall away
from oblivion.

Focus, focus, Elizabeth warned herself. Hans was
taking her down the Drostobel, less scary than the Wang
but about as steep. Difference was, he'd had it fenced off
and poled up. She sighed. Slalom and Super-G, her weak
points, but they needed work.

At the. top of the lift she slid on to the snow and
tightened her helmet strap, looking round carefully.
Where is he? I should be able to pick Hans out of the
crowd by now ...

Somebody rapped on the Union Jack emblazoned over
her visor. Elizabeth looked up crossly. 'Hey, cut it out!

Oh, Jack, hi, I was looking for Hans.'

'He couldn't be here.'

'But we've got a session. He never misses training.'
'I'm sure he's got his reasons,' Jack said lightly.
'Wouldn't share them With me, which is something I
purely hate.'

Suddenly she was glad she-was wearing the helmet.
Didn't want Jack to see the silly, puppy-like longing
probably written all over her face. It was the warm Texas
sun in his voice on this gloomy day. Or maybe the matt
black suit, no goggles, that made him look like a thug
from a spy movie. It was awesome on that body,
moulded to his chest and quads, with just a discreet Stars
and Stripes over the heart, US training colours.


z73

'Thanks for the message. See ya,' she said, but Taylor
clamped a massive paw on her gloves before she could
push off.

'He asked me to help out.'

'Hans asked you to train me?' Elizabeth repeated.

'I guess,' Jack said, shrugging, his dark eyes fixed on
her. 'I'm polishing SuperoG this afternoon. I don't mind
showing you what you're doing wrong.'

Hans, you bastard! Elizabeth thought. This would be
good for her and Hans knew it - he didn't give a damn
about anything except her skiing. It was murder to have
to take it from Jack Taylor. 'Show you what you're doing
wrong!' And she would have to take it, because Jack's
Super-G was outstanding. Possibly his best discipline and
with Taylor, that meant a hell of a lot. She had no
choice here at all.

'Thank you. That'd be great,' Elizabeth muttered.
She'd been avoiding him since the day she arrived. It
occurred to her that this would be the first time she'd
seen him ski since the World Cup.

"OK,' Jack said evenly. He cursed Hans Wolf silently
under his breath. He owed Wolf too many favours to
turn him down, but the old guy just didn't know what he
was asking. Elizabeth, he must have been out of his
brain, thinking he could make a future with the spoilt,
stuck-up little brat. First she got on his case about leaving
England to train, like the Olympics didn't matter, like her
dumb-ass job at the drug company really meant something.
Her pa was never giving her a shake, and she
should have seen that.

She should have been here, like I was, he thought. Then
when she does turn up she's foolin' about in the hotel,
she ruins my schedule, snaps at me ...

Jack took his skiing seriously. It took the last World
Cup for Elizabeth to get his respect. Now the rumours
from the British camp were she was back to her old ways,


z74

her prima donna mode. This time her distractions were
'business', quote unquote, and not boys, but it was all the
same thing. Toys. Games.

All that time I pined for her, Jack thought, but I wasn't
with her. Wasn't seeing how she acted. She turned up to
team camp looking like cotton-candy, she was so weak. It
killed him to see her, weeks before the Games, being late,
temperamental ... it wouldn't matter but Savage was a
world-class talent, she had the potential to be one of the
true greats. Jack just knew it, he smelt it in her like a fox
scents a vixen. For her to throw it away like this was
disgraceful. If a kid of his acted that way he'd tan her
hide. She made him mad.

But then there was the other little problem, the one
he'd brought on himself. It was real, real easy to get
pissed at Elizabeth. Not so easy to ignore her. Or forget
her. Why-should I care if some limey chick doesn't take
my calls? Jack thought angrily. It bothered him that she
was blanking him again. He couldn't forget that kiss on
that freezing winter morning in England, the waiting for
her sharpening the pleasure, feeling her resistance melt,
and then the cottage, and everything he'd imagined - but
better. Elizabeth's long honey hair drifting over his chest,
her flat stomach fluttering under his hands, her endless
legs and sinewy body writhing over him, those little bud
nipples taut on her pale breasts ...

Elizabeth was looking at him from under that biker's
helmet. Impatiently. That tilt of her head bugged the shit
out of him.

Come on, Jack, that was it, she's a great piece of ass,
but there are lots of those. Now you gotta train with her
so let's get on with it.

Well. He would train her. He'd show her exactly what
standard was required to be an Olympic champion, what
she'd forfeited with all her stupid games and scrappy
practice. What sweat bought you.


z75

I'll show you, sugar, Jack thought.

'I'll watch from the top the first time. We'll do the
three slalom courses, then the Super-G, then you follow
my instructions. Just holler if you want to drop out.'

'I won't want to drop out,' Elizabeth said, glaring at
him.

Jack smiled coldly. 'We'll see. On my mark, left
gate ...'

z76


Chapter z8


The doorbell buzzed. Nina jumped, startled. She was still
tugging her brush through the ends of her hair, she'd only
gotten to the tinted moisturiser stage of her make-up. Her
watch said eight a.m. It couldn't be him, it had to be a
mistake. She ignored it and rubbed pale concealer under
her eyes; God, she was so tired. Up at five to wash her
hair, but she'd gotten in at midnight and been forced to
stay up till two, trying to think of some way round the
Lady Elizabeth problem. Her body had broken through
some kind of barrier. Being tired like this gave you a
jittery false energy, like the kind you get on too much
caffeine.

The buzzer again. Shit. Nina slipped her feet into the
Stphane Kelian stacked mules and stumbled to her
entryphone.

'Tony! Sorry, you're so early - come right up.'

She rushed back to the bathroom, frantically scooping
up last night's underwear from the tiles and shoving it

into the laundry basket. No time for make-up now, she
might smear it. Tony, oh God. Her heart started

hammering, she felt a nervous sweat break out across her
back. Flung open the window tothe freezing morning air
to lose the steam from her shower. The mirror cleared
and she caught a glimpse of herself as the doorbell trilled:
dark hair damp and sleek, her body-hugging Chanel
number in navy and white over a crisp Prada shirt. The
most expensive suit she owned. There could be none of
the casual pants and jumpers she wore out with Harry;.


z77

for Tony, nothing but the best was acceptable. You had
to be it and look it, for the greater glory of the Robber
Baron. Her face was bare, but there was no time to put
that right.

'Coming, Tony, just one second!'

She spritzed herself with Joy, his favourite, and
sprinted to open the door.

Harry Namath stood there, holding a video and a
packet of Butterkist.

'Oh.' Nina gasped with surprise, then recovered herself.
'Er ... Harry! Come in, sorry, I was expecting
someone else.'

'So I gathered.' Harry stepped into the apartment,
looking her over. He was wearing jeans, runners and a
sweatshirt, with a battered khaki rucksack slung over one
shoulder. 'Tony? I thought it was always "the earl" or
"Lord Caerhaven", some feudal bullshit like that.'

Nina wanted to die. 'Well, I usually refer to him that

way to outsiders - I mean, other people. He's the boss, I
have to be respectful.'

. 'But privately you're friends?'

'I wouldn't say friends,' Nina said evasively. 'Not
strictly friends...'

'That's good.' Namath's handsome, open face curled a

little with dislike. 'He's sharp, but I hear bad things
about that guy.'

'Successful people always have enemies.'

'OK, OK, if you like him ...' Harry handed over the
cassette and the popcorn. 'Brought you the game and
some supplies. In case all this culture gets too much for
you. It's a goodbye present.'

'It's a what?' Nina said. She clutched the video to her
chest. She couldn't believe the dismay she felt. 'Where are
you going?'

'To England, honey, remember? To London.'

'But I thought--'


2.78

'So did I, but Lilly's found a place she wants to be. Says
she's seeing some interesting results on the latest batch of
mice.'

'But why does she need you with her?' Nina pushed her
hair back from her eyes. 'You run the computers ...'

'She's real insistent. I don't like to let her down,' Harry
said. He moved a little closer. 'You look upset, don't tell
me you're gonna miss it. All those fights and screaming
matches ...'

Nina dropped her head so he wouldn't see the look on
her face. He was grinning, teasing her, but she didn't feel
like laughing. A big wave of loneliness and loss rolled
right over her. It dawned on her like a flash of lightning,
what a lifeline Harry had been out here, how she was
already relying on him, how fucking miserable it was
going to be without him. Yesterday she'd wanted him
gone, and'now he was going, so why wasn't she thrilled?

Namath walked up to her and cupped her chin in his
hands, gently tipping her face up to his. She looked so
beautiful, trying to be polished but rushed instead. Her
hair was damp. He breathed in the faint scent of her
shower gel. Desire and frustration clamoured inside him,
he felt himself stiffen just from getting close to her. He
wanted Nina so much. When she'd pushed him away the
other night he'd fouid it hard to sleep. Yesterday evening
he'd picked up a tourist in a bar, gone back to her hotel
and banged her mercilessly, but it hadn't helped. A one
night stand wouldn't do it any more.

'Like I'll miss a migraine,' Nina smiled weakly. She
knew she should prise his hands off her face, but she
didn't move.

'I guess I'll see you in a month.' Harry was still looking

right into her eyes. 'Do I get a goodbye kiss?'

'Do you want one?' Nina whispered.

Harry looked at her for a second. Then he bent his'

279


head, very slowly, touched his lips on hers, just brushing
them, lightly, drily, an echo of a kiss.

'Is that it?' Nina whispered. Harry was hovering there,
his mouth close to hers, she could feel the heat of him,
hear his breathing. Lust crashed over her like a wave, and
she couldn't stand it, she lifted herself up to him, pressing
her lips against his. Harry pulled her to him, kissing her
over and over, biting, licking the inside of her lip, kissing
her neck wildly, his hands movingup to her hair, tousling
it, not giving her time to think.

'God, you're so lovely,' he murmured.

Nina felt her knees give. She was arching against him,
totally, helplessly responsive. His fingers flickered at her
waist and then his hand was on her, pulling her shirt out,

, his palm moving upwards to the wire and lace of her bra,

brushing over her nipples.

God ... Nina gasped. She felt a sharper tug of lust
shoot right down her body.

'Baby.' He was cupping her breasts now, groaning
softly with pleasure, his thumbs stroking, just the right
pressure. Nina forgot about telling him to stop. She
couldn't say a word. A spasm of pleasure exploded across
her groin, she felt herself moisten, he was almost too
slow, she wanted this, needed it now, and there was none
of that squirmy, ugly undertone she felt with Tony, it was
real straightforward.

Harry's other hand slipped down from her waist, past
the tweed and gilt buttons and up her skirt. He was
tugging the silken waistband of her hose, twitching off
her panties. Tony's due at ten, what if he's early? flashed
through Nina's mind but then right out again. She felt
herself part her legs slightly, involuntarily, and then his
hand was on her, covering her, two fingers tracing the
slickness, unbearably softly, Harry's breathing rough and
unsteady, and then he pressed his whole hand on her and
she shook, a light, sweet orgasm rippling through her.


8o

Nina's cry was muffled by his kiss, her legs gave, she was
dizzy from the pleasure of it but still hungry, still tight
with desire. They collapsed backwards on to something,
the sofa, Harry pulling her up almost harshly, climbing
on top of her, lying against her still dressed, kissing her,

his fingers darting over gilt and silk.

'You flight ...'

'Screw my flight. I'll get the next one.'

'We can't,' Nina managed.

Harry bent his dark head to her ear and shoved himself
against her. He was hard, really hard and thick. Nina felt
herself move against him, beneath him, she couldn't think
straight, she felt an animal longing to have that in her,
filling her, plugging her.

'How wrong you are,' Harry said, and then his hands
tightened round her again, circling her waist, lifting her
up as easily as a rag doll, flipping her on to her stomach.
Nina turned her head around, sooty hair tumbling in a
thick curtain over her face, to see him unstrapping his
belt, dragging the shirt over his head, tearing at his jeans.
His chest was paler than his face, smattered with wiry
curls, the muscles wonderful, tight but not huge, natural
and perfect. His powerful thighs pinned her legs down,
she felt denim brush the back of her thighs as he threw
off his jeans. Nina's stomach clenched with longing.
Harry grabbed the hem of her thousand-dollar skirt and
shoved it unceremoniously up round her waist, exposing
her butt, the lean, tapering line at the back of her thighs,
Nina's rounded softness. She inhaled sharply and pushed
up on her elbows. Harry wanted to shout out loud from
the glory of it, how perfect she was, he could almost see
the blood rushing to his cock, he was so hard for her now
it hurt. His fingers trembled a little as he unsnapped her
bra. In the gilt mirror opposite he saw her, totally
disarrayed, her face flushed with heat, her incredible
breasts lifting out from the unbuttoned shirt, the nipples

zSI


dark and tight like black cherries in cream, tiny waist and
round ass lifted towards him. So many girls these days
didn't eat. Harry had taken a few home, gotten them
undressed and found an ironing-board backside, sexless
and boring. But Nina, his Nina, she was all girl, the way
her ass flared out from that tiny waist, goddamn ...

He had to get inside her or he was gonna come. As
gently as he could he made to open her thighs, but Nina
thrust back, impatient, she wanted it too, and Harry
pushed in and took her, first time, right there, feeling her
tight and hot around him, moving with him, urgently ...

'You like that?' Harry whispered. Nina's breath came

in sobs, she could feel every thrust, she could see herself
in the mirror, Harry moving behind her, taking her, his
hands gentle on her tits but still teasing, moving over
them so that the intensity of the thrill spread right across
her body, a neon web, lighting up wherever he touched
her now, even her legs where his thighs were pinning
them down, her back when his chest rubbed against it,
wiry hair brushing her spine and making that wall of

lleasure bigger and closer.

'Yeah ...'

'You know, this is how we used to make love.
Humans.' Harry was talking low and fast because he
found it hard to breathe. His arousal poured over Nina's
skin like a caress, like downy kisses. Every atom of her

felt suffused. 'It's the best way.'

'Why?' Nina choked.

Harry thrust again, picking up the pace, going harder

and faster. Perfect rhythm. Slamming into her.

'Because it goes in deeper.' His breath was hot on her

ear, he felt hot blood surging into her belly, she was
pressing back into him, writhing under his touch,
abandoned, God, she was passionate, she was so beautiful.
He pushed again. 'Like that.'

'Harry!' Nina said, and there was a note under the

heat, something strange, almost sad, but she wanted it
because she was moving with him, Harry felt sex
overwhelming him, Nina grabbed his hand and grabbed
it to her mouth, kissing it, he felt her tighten and stiffen,
saw her eyes close and her lips part ...

Nina couldn't think or move, the pleasure, the wanting
was so huge now and she felt the sweet pressure filling
her and blocking her, like a tidal wave rearing up,
building, and then Harry's arms were hooking under her
armpits and pulling her closer and he was taking her
stronger and harder and the wall exploded, white light
behind her eyes, and she came, sobbing out his name.

Harry's orgasm burst from him like Nina had ripped it
out of his heart. Which maybe she had. He collapsed
against her, relaxed and perfectly happy. He wanted to
stay there for ever.

'You've got to leave,' Nina panted.

Harry rached over and kissed the side of her neck. She
was warm, soaked with sweat.

'Really,' Nina insisted. She pulled her clothes away
from him, got unsteadily to her feet. Namath stared at

her; black hair was falling over her pretty face.

'Is that all I get?'

'It was great,' Nina said softly. She padded over to him
with her shoes in her arms and kissed the top of his head,
but reticently. She's holding something back, Harry
thought uneasily. 'But really, I have a meeting, and I can't
wear this.'

'We'll do this again; When you get to London.'
'Sure.' Nina dashed round, picking up her stuff, as
Harry pulled his clothes back on. 'Look, you can still
make your flight ... call me when you find a place.'

She pecked him on the cheek as he left. Taken aback,
Harry found he was standing in her hallway, his sneakers
unlaced.

'Gee, thanks for stopping by,' he muttered.

z83


Nina waited until she heard Harry's footsteps on the
stairs. Then she sat down weakly on the floor and started
to cry.

z84


Chapter z9


Tony stepped into Nina's apartment with a smile. He
enjoyed travel. Flights in first-class were never too
dreadful; Mrs Perkins organised his drivers, hotels and
suites with military efficiency, he was always checked in
automatically, and grovelling staff greeted him wherever
he went. That hardly registered; the earl barely thought
of them as people at all, they were part of the wallpaper.
What he enjoyed was the barometer his travels gave him.
How he was doing. What the rumours were this week.
Each flight involved some waiting in a VIP area, some
mingling with other first-class travellers when one
boarded, usually last, and the common or garden businessmen
filed past. Tony pretended supreme indifference
to the whispers, the recurrent glances and nudges, the
occasional obvious stare. But he loved it. They reacted to
him like schoolboys to a football striker, drama-group
actors in front of Robert de Niro. He'd noticed it
gradually, years ago, as his empire started to build and
his strings quietly startedto jerk. It got more pronounced
as Dragon took off, building to a crescendo as he became
England's foremost takeover shark. When Jay DeFries
was ruined and dragged off to jail, perversely, the
whispering stopped for a short while. They were too
scared to say anything at all. He sometimes thought he'd
enjoyed that period most of all.

Today, of course, he was famous. The Helmers buyout
had been concluded last week, a perfect hostile raid that
left the stock in Tony's hands and the chairman in tears,.


z85

or so the City whispers had it. On this morning's low-key
flight they had chattered like starlings. Lowered voices,
naturally, and pretend-casual looks in his direction, but it
was wonderful, the sense of jealousy and curiosity all
those losers were giving off. Satisfaction had lined his
stomach as pleasantly as the warm croissants and coffee
he'd breakfasted on. If they thought he had it good now,
Tony wondered, what on earth would they say once the
latest newsletter went to the number-crunchers?

Nina's find was looking exceptionally promising. He'd
called Lilly Hall in for a meeting; frightful harridan, but
she knew what she was about. The photographs of slim
mice and svelte monkeys were exquisitely dramatic.
Human trials would take a long time. It was hard to get
permission to experiment on human beings in the West,
which was nonsense, of course, how could science ever
improve that way? Tony reflected calmly on his methods
of avoiding that problem. Quiet little research centres in
Africa and South America, where indigent adults would
fight each other for the chance to earn twenty US bucks a
day. And to think, they'd all get slim as well. Whilst the
real beauty of the thing was that Nina's reorganisation of
his research divisions would prop up the share price all
by itself. Delicious rumours of his new bombshell would
leak out, and then, by God, it was open season. Dragon
Inc. would be on automatic pilot to the stars, and he,
Tony Savage, would be lifted along with it into orbit.

Tony was tired of being a big fish in a small pond. He
was an hereditary peer, and since the Queen had
legendarily proclaimed there were to be no more dukedoms
created - apparently she was very relieved when
Churchill turned down the chance to be Duke of London
- he wasn't likely to get bumped up, a gong could have
no meaning. He had a perfect social life, the respect, or
better, the fear of his fellows. Charles and Richard were
shaping up nicely, Monica was an as'set. There was no


z86

further to go in the UK, he needed to set his sights a little
higher. In the States he'd still be a minor figure, not like
those slick bastards Hanson and White, or the half-Frog
Sir James Goldsmith. And that was what Tony desperately
wanted. Success on a global scale. He wanted to
hear that muttering at other airports besides Heathrow.
Hanson, White and Goldsmith were up there with the oil
owners and the finance boys like George Soros. There
were only a couple of hundred men like that, it was the
world's most powerful and exclusive club. Tony hungered
for admittance. And he felt he was just about on
the brink of it.

Nina's grace-and-favour company flat. White and
gold, modern and automated. He'd been here before
years ago but forgotten all about it. She was probably
overwhelmed by the luxury of it, Tony thought. She has
no idea �hat she's doing for Dragon. Not the first clue
what she really deserves.

'My dear girl, you look wonderful,' he said warmly.
She did. His dick was stirring pleasantly right off the bat;
Nina Roth wearing a fluid suit in creamy pink, the colour
picking out the lush blackness of her hair and the purity
of her pale skin. Tony's experienced eye identified the cut,
that was a Ralph Lauren, one of her more demure
numbers. It hovered just below the knee and buttoned up
past her magnificent cleavage. He. grinned. So unlike
Nina to be prudish. Her make-up was minimal, a little
blusher on the sharp cheekbones and a clover lip-gloss.
Tony breathed in but scented nb per.fume. How amusing,
she was being so businesslike. It was almost as if he
hadn't fucked her.

'Thank you. I hope you had a good flight?'

'Quite acceptable, darling, thank you.'

'Great ...' Nina pushed a stray lock of hair out of her
dark eyes. 'Shall we get right to it?'


z87

'Fine with me,' Tony said, making to slip off his
cashmere overcoat.

'No.' Nina put her hand on him to stop him. Tony
looked down and saw that she was bright red. 'I didn't
mean that ...'

He looked at her sharply. 'What's the problem?'
'No problem, we just have a lot to discuss first, about
work, and your daughter, and I think we should do it
right away.'

'Right you are.' Savage shrugged himself back into his
coat. 'We'll go and have some lunch; business before
pleasure, I suppose.'


Tony took her to the Merci Hotel. Nina felt the fear

,gripping her heart squeeze a little tighter as the staff
recognised him at once. There was an orgy of bowing
and scraping as they were ushered to a discreet table
overshadowed by an ornamental tree. She wondered if
they were expecting him to take her upstairs and bang
her after the meal.

.While Tony confidently ordered for both of them Nina
opened her file. Her mouth was dry and she felt her heart
palpitating. Maybe she'd always known, in her head,
what manner of man the Robber Baron was. But when he
was sitting in front of you it was different; the aquiline
face, the hawk's eyes scouring the room, like he was
permanently scoping for targets. She knew he had always
watched her in the same way, the powerful rajah
stripping her with his eyes, asses'sing her like a farmer at
a cattle market. In London she'd enjoyed it, but that was
before she'd met Harry. The jewels, the callous sensuality,
started to rankle. Sitting here while the waiter
wheeled over their champagne Nina saw clearly why
she'd sent Anita that opal and sapphire bracelet. What
looked like generosity was something very different.
Tony knew it and she'd known it, but she'd been too

z88


cowardly to admit it. He forced her to wear those jewels
because she didn't like to; because they marked her out as
his property. His plaything.

She could put a label on that uncomfortable feeling
now. It was the way Tony made her feel like a high-class
hooker.

Tony leaned over her as he poured the Cristal into cut
glass flutes. Nina breathed in his aftershave. She had to
fight the impulse to shrink back. Oh, God, she thought,
nervously. She was going to have to tell him it was over.
She wondered how he was going to take it. She felt
petrified.

'To Dragon. May she spread her wings and fly,' Tony
smiled, touching his champagne flute to hers.

Waiters set a starter before them, braised veal and
truffles in a white wine sauce. It was delicious but Nina
could hardty taste it. Nervously she handed her boss the notes for the quarterly report, the piece she'd been
sweating over all week.

Tony scanned it quickly, glanced up at Nina, nodded.
Then he leaned back and read it more slowly.

'Very good.' The patrician tones were smoothly
pleased. 'Very nice, exactly what the institutional boys
are looking for.'

'And will I get a promotion?' Nina screwed up her
courage. She'd delivered for Dragon: once in finding Lilly
and twice with the reorganisation.

'Nina.' Tony looked faintly amused. 'You've just had a
promotion. What will your colleagues think?'

'Only to senior manager. That's n'othing. And since
when did you give a damn about what your employees
think?'

He nodded faintly to that. 'You're doing very nicely.'
'I've set up a whole new division, sir, it's going in the
newsletter--'

'Sir? We are being formal today.' Tony speared some

z89


veal and truffles and made a cutting motion with his left
hand, his gold Rolex flashing in the sunlight, ending the
discussion. 'It was a very simple idea.'

Nina didn't push it, but she was annoyed. Simple idea

it might have been, but none of his gilded flunkies had
ever thought of it. And it was on simple ideas that
business empires were built.

Oh well. Once her report was published, and credited,

to her, Nina knew she'd be in amuch stronger position.
She had no doubt this was going to send Dragon stock to
the ceiling. At that point, headhunters would start calling
with tempting offers from other firms. Tony'd have to

give her her due, pay her for her results.

Patience is a virtue.

'We'd better talk about Elizabeth.'

The tiniest cloud settled on Caerhaven's forehead, a minute frown as her name was mentioned.

'Yes. She's getting rather ubiquitous at home. There

are too few British athletes in with a chance at these
Games.' Tony shrugged. 'So give me good news, tell me
(when the Taylor boy's going to pop the question.'

Nina breathed in. "I'm afraid I can't. I don't think
they're together any more.' She watched Tony's expression
darken. 'It's impossible to check on that relationship
right now, with the Games so close. Elizabeth isn't
training with her team, she doesn't socialise, she just skis
and works out.'

'I don't believe it,' Tony said angrily.

Nina shivered. Oh God!. 'There's something else. It's
about Dragon Gold.'

'What? Oh yes, her little pill. Managed to make a go of

it, a few orders from Boots.' Tony took a belt of
champagne, then another, refilled his glass. His flirtatiousness
had vanished. It was amazing, the way you
could almost see the little cogs whirring as his mind

worked, analysing, planning, hovering round the problem
like a vulture round a corpse. 'Maybe I can give her a
few UK products to play with until we can get her
married off. At least she'd be content.' He almost spat
out the word. 'And unnoticeable.'

'I'm afraid not. Not if I read the figures she's been
giving me correctly. She's tried to bury what she's doing,
but reading between the lines ... Lady Elizabeth's trying
to launch Gold in Europe. She's dealing direct with the
national offices, she's talking to German and French ad
agencies, and she appears to have got herself a budget
from central funding.'

There was a crashing silence. Tony Savage lowered his
knife and fork and stared at Nina.

'I could have it wrong,' Nina muttered.

'I see.' The carl's voice was ice. 'And with what
authority is she doing this? How could she unlock our
monies like that?'

'I believe she's doing it with your authority. She refers
to you a lot in the correspondence I've seen. She's just
giving orders, and they're assuming she has the right to
do it.'

'You're serious.'

'Yes, sir. Dragon is a family company ... Lady
Elizabeth is your daughter, and she has sold a lot of pills.
Maybe they thought it was natural to expand - nobody
would dare challenge a Sa;cage. It is fairly ... unorthodox.
And bold.' Nina had to admit it, she loathed the princess,
but you had to give it to her, it. was gutsy as hell. And
with someone less sussed than me, she might even have
got away with it; presented Daddy with a Europe-wide
success as a fair accompli. She tried to smile at Tony.
'Like father, like daughter, I guess.'

The earl's head jerked up. His eyes stared right through
Nina, the fury in them blazing like coal, so fierce she
shrank back in her chair.

'I don't have a daughter,' Tony Savage said.


'No.' Jack's voice was impatient, almost disdainful.
Elizabeth smarted under it as under a whip. Bastard!
She'd been dropping and twisting for hours, trying to
follow Jack's bawled instructions, till her waist was sore
and her butt ached and the whole world was a blur of
flying snow and flapping flagpoles. 'Left a little, then
right, lean into the curve for extra room!' He was
shouting as she screeched to a halt, skis digging into the
ice. Elizabeth was panting, red faced under the helmet.
Fucking bloody Jack, if only he had been a little less good
at the Super-G and she'd got something to throw back at
him. But whenever the arrogant jerk sliced down in front
of her his sodding technique was perfect. Elizabeth had
watched in dismay. Next to Jack's grace and precision
she felt like a fat builder trying to dance Swan Lak.e. Taylor was so big, such a burly git, where the hell did it
all go? He took those turns like he was computer
controlled. Jack Taylor, the skiing Texan android.

,
	'I'm doing the best I can,' Elizabeth shouted back.

Jack shook his head and pointed to her helmet. 'Say

what, milady? You're gonna have to do better than that.'

Elizabeth's Lycra gloves fumbled with her straps,
ripped off the helmet. Her scrunchie came with it and a
great cloud of tawny hair tumbled down round her
shoulders. Her green eyes were sparkling; Jack fought
back the surge of desire lapping round his groin.
Goddamn, he wanted to trip her up, right here, right
now, and just--

'Christ! I know that, I'm trying my best! Can't you be a

little encouraging?'

'I could. But I won't.' Jack shrugged; his handsome

face was glowing gently from exercise, like he'd just
completed a few pleasant strolls. Elizabeth knew she was
a wreck and that made her crosser than ever. Tm not

British, sugar. I'm not here to fly the flag and get your
autograph.'
'What the hell's that supposed to mean?' shouted
Elizabeth.

'It's supposed to mean that you need a lot more work.'
Jack lightly lifted his ski-pole and touched her on the
chest. 'You need to quit being late, quit skipping practice,
quit playing shop.'

'I'm doing something real--'

'Oh, like hell.' Jack was too annoyed to take this
bullshit any more. 'You got no future there and you
know it. You've got some ego thing going on with your
Dad, you're letting it waste the best chance Britain's got
for a gold.'

'Jack, I don't know where to start.'

'Then don't.' Jack's dark eyes were uncompromising.
'The world doesn't owe you a living, Princess. You got
no degree, no experience, but somehow you think you

can barge in and take over from day one.'

Elizabeth said nothing.

'You got the talent, you should stop fucking around, or
you're not going to win, sister, and that's the bottom
line,' Jack said harshly.

'You know, you sound just like my father,' Elizabeth
said.

Jack was angry. 'Fuck you, babe.'

'I don't think so, Jack. Once was enough.' Elizabeth
strapped her helmet back on and lifted the visor. 'Thanks
for the workout.'

She lowered her poles to th ground and pushed off
southwards, disappearing in a flash of iridescence down
the Strela black that led down to Davos.

Jack Taylor watched her go. He'd made her sweat it,
he'd made his point, and he'd also spoken his mind.
Those things needed saying.

Damn it! he thought.


z93

Chapter 3o


Tony stepped out of the limo at the airport concourse

and motioned for Nina to get out.

'Sorry I can't stay, darling. I must go back and sort this

out.

So I gathered, Nina thought." Tony had called for the
check right away and bundled her into his waiting car.
On the drive to Kloten he'd made her go through the
figures over and over. 'Why don't you just call everybody
and tell them it's all off? If you want to do that. I mean,
it's not such a bad idea ...' Nina stopped herself mid
sentence. What was she saying? That was her practical
streak speaking, she wanted Elizabeth Savage to get
b.usted, and brutally.

Tony looked at her blankly. 'You don't understand. I'll

deal with it, and not a word to anybody, or you can kiss
Dragon goodbye.'

'I won't mention it.' Nina drew back from his intensity

as their car pulled smoothly over to the kerb.

Tony's expression softened. He lifted one hand and
tucked the wind-blown hair back behind Nina's ears,
looking her over pleasurably. 'Really, darling, so sorry
we've been interrupted. But you'll be home very soon, we
can take up where we left off.'

Tony bent to kiss her, but Nina turned her head, so it
landed on her cheek instead of her lips.

He pulled up sharply. 'What's the matter with you?"
'Tony,' Nina said, and her voice suddenly sounded like

it belonged to someone else, someone a lot calmer than

she actually felt, 'I'm sorry, but that side of our
relationship has to finish.'

Caerhaven looked down blankly at her. 'Don't be
ludicrous. We're perfect for each other, we enjoy each
other.'

'It doesn't feel right any more. I'm sorry, Tony. I'll
return all your jewellery,' Nina said.

Tony almost laughed. The luminous dark eyes locking
on to his were so serious. As though she had any idea, as
though there was any way he was actually going to
permit this.

'Nina, Nina.' The fingers stroking her hair suddenly
moved on to her cheekbones, tracing their line. 'You
don't understand. I enjoy you. We stop when I get tired
of it.'

'What?' Nina whispered.

'You heard me.' Tony checked his watch. 'Now, I
don't have time for this, I'm on the two thirty. Don't send

me back the jewellery. Wear it the next time we go out.'
'I'm not going to see you socially any more,' Nina said.

Tony's hand cupped her face and tightened. He spoke
softly and smiled deep into her eyes.

'I gave you everything and I can take everything. You'll
be reasonable, darling, or it will be the worse for you.'


Elizabeth's feelings were mixed as she stepped out of the
courtesy bus, its new gold paint emblazoned with the
Olympic rings hoping to compensate for the ramshackle
suspension. Monica would have had kittens, negotiating
the winding Alpine roads in that, but she was used to it.
You had to be, if you were skiing for Britain. Apparently
not even the thought of a glorious women's gold could
persuade the BSF to part with hard cash, so the team
arrived at Flims in a nicely painted old banger, courtesy
of the Swiss Confederation.

'Did you see the French coach?' Janet Marlin asked as


z95

she grabbed her bags and dumped them on to the snow.
'It passed us driving up to Davos. Madeline de Lisle
showed me around. It had Ataris and bunk beds and
everything. Just like rock stars use.'

'How would you know what rock stars use? Been in
the back of the bus with Duran Duran?' Kate teased her
friend.

Elizabeth leaned forwards and grabbed her purple
hold-all.

'Careful, milady, don't strain yourself,' Karen said
nastily. 'Carrying your own bags? Is the butler off sick,
then?'

'Sod off, Karen,' Elizabeth snapped.

'Forget about the French coach, did you see the
American one?' Kate added, with a sly glance at Elizabeth.
'It's a bloody palace. Ford are sponsoring them and
they've got a lounge area, a video ...'

'What, don't they have their own mountain?' Elizabeth
replied sarcastically.

'You should know, love, didn't Jack show you
.around?'

Elizabeth stiffened. She'd walked right into that.
'Why should he? I hardly see him any more.'

'Yeah, I heard something about that,' Karen said. 'Or
maybe he just didn't want you to bump into Holly
Ferrell. The US team travel together, they just sleep on
separate floors. Bad news if the ex bumps into the

current, ain't it?'

'Holly?'

'Yes, Holly. Didn't you know? He's been skiing with
her day in, day out since they went to Grindelwald.
Doing the Lauberhorn and the White Hare ...'

Elizabeth couldn't help it, she paled. Hans and she had
just done that area, the best in the Bernese Oberland,
skiing the legendary runs around Wengen and the Eiger.
Gradients that were so steep, runs that turned so well

z96


they were pure motion, a champion's dream, like the
mountain's own git to the skier. Her heart did a slow flip
in her chest at the thought of it. Jack skiing the
Lauberhorn with someone else! Charming Holly Ferrell,
a blonde society babe who had never greatly troubled the
timekeepers nor the sports writers. A meat-and-potatoes
athlete, a richer, prettier Karen. Holly would not fight
with Jack. All she would do was watch him in dewy-eyed
wonder, Elizabeth thought viciously, and they could hum
'The Star-spangled Banner' as they schussed back to their
hotel at night. Holly, yes, Holly would be Ms Perfect, a
nice wholesome Miss America with white teeth and no
personality ...

The other girls were watching her.

'Why should I care? I've seen Jack ski, I don't think I
can learn anything more from him.'

'Sure. It:s all about skiing,' Karen said.

Ronnie Davis arrived from the back of the coach and
the girls fell silent. He glanced from one flushed face to
another.

'Catfights again? Just cut it out! We've got a couple of
weeks until the start of the bloody Games. None of you
has trained on Crap Sogn Gion yet, yes, Janet, ha ha,
very amusing ... wait till you're halfway down to
Murtscheg. And Elizabeth - don't even think about
skiing off-piste from Cassons.'

Elizabeth's head lifted, startled. She had been planning
exactly that tomorrow, once Hans Wolf settled into his
chalet on the slope above them..

'But Ronnie, it'll be perfect practice ...'

'Perfect for you to schuss off the edge of the cliff. No
way, girl, you're back under my orders for the duration.'

Elizabeth nodded sulkily. He was taking away her
drug. Nothing but the hardest, harshest white slopes,
peppered with moguls and virgin powder, could distract
her from all the stress. And Jack. She wanted to forget'


z97

him but that was easier said than done, with all the US
media out here on a feeding frenzy. Taylor this, Taylor
that, it was the gossip that leaked out from the Olympic
Village, it was the profiles in Newsweek and Time and
the Herald Tribune.

'I've already spoken to Herr Wolf.' Ronnie's rough
voice spoke the name deferentially, you couldn't deal
with a legend any other way. 'He agrees with me. From
now on, it's Olympic courses only. You ski them till you
can see them with your eyes shut.'

'Ronnie.' Kate spoke up winningly. 'If Hans is coming
up here tomorrow, why don't you have a word with him,
see if he'll take us for some training too?'

'Get lost, Kate!' Elizabeth exploded. 'Hans is my coach, he doesn't waste time with fifth-raters--'

'That's enough!' Ronnie rounded on Elizabeth. 'Christ
almighty, this is supposed to be a team.'

'So the papers are right about you,' Janet said to
Elizabeth, pink faced from being called fifth-rate. 'The
things they're saying.'

"What things?' Elizabeth demanded.

'I said that's enough." Ronnie's bark was sharp enough
to scare them all into silence. Elizabeth saw him give
Janet a death-stare. 'You're sharing a chalet, Janet and
Kate, and Karen, you're in with Elizabeth. One more
word from anybody and I'll report in to the Sports
Council and FIS. Nobody talks in bars, and nobody,' he
added with a sweeping look, 'speaks to the press. There
are all the home comforts you'll need in these chalets,
including a weights room.'

'Are there the papers? I'd like to see how We're getting
on in the Falklands,' Karen said smoothly. Elizabeth
looked at her; she wanted news from home as well, but
there was something in Karen's tone that made her edgy.

'I can tell you that, love. We're winning. There'll be no


z98

papers, no radio, no distractions. From now on we're just
here to ski.'


Elizabeth unpacked her hold-all inner room. It was
soulless and functional, maybe the best way for an
athlete's quarters to be; a hotel-style uniformity could be
Zen-like in calming the brain. There was nothing here to
make her nervous, except the view from her pale blue
blinds. When you opened them up you saw Mount
Startgels looming over you, the vast rocky outcrop
blanketed with snow, spearing the deep clear blue of the
sky. When Elizabeth slept under mountains she felt them
as a presence, frozen giants who could almost breathe if
you had the spell to unlock them. Startgels was the site of
an Olympic slalom. She would be out on it soon, in the
red, white and blue. The downy snow that looked so
virginal covered so many things: abysses, crevasses, cliffs,

soul-searing pleasure, death and glory.

'Horrible, isn't it?'

Elizabeth jumped; Karen noticed the long, glossy hair
shimmer as she moved, the expensive burgundy cashmere
dress, the Italian shoes. As well as the sports holdall,
Elizabeth's clothes cases were at the end of her bed; moss
green leather, embossed with some heraldry thing in
gold. They looked antique. Fucking hell, she was so posh
you could wonder if she ever used the toilet, Karen
thought. Dislike seethed in her stomach. Pictures of
milady were all over Flims, usually grouped with Louise
and Heidi of Switzerland. You didn't have to speak the
language to get the idea - they all thought LiZzie was the
only threat. Karen had felt it keenly when Elizabeth jetted
off to Klosters with Hans; the press that stayed with the
official team had only asked about Elizabeth. The rest of
them were a Mickey Mouse outfit, and nobody bothered
pretending otherwise.

Karen was the best, though. She'd held the UK record.


z99

before bloody Hans Wolf called up from Saas Grund and
suggested they give the stuck-up cow a trial. Karen
wouldn't have creamed off any World Cups but without

Liz she'd be the UK champion and she'd have respect.
'What do you mean?'

'That.' Karen pointed at the Alp. 'Oppressive, makes
you want to see pubs and cherry trees.'

'We get enough pubs at home, don't we?' Elizabeth
asked mildly. She thought about Jack with a sharp ache.
He felt like she did about mountains. He loved them and
lived them, but they were still strange enough to enchant
him; to Franz Klammer and Louise Levier they were
everyday.

'Can't think your sort ever sees much of a pub.'
'You'd be surprised.' Elizabeth looked away, partly
because she didn't want to fight, partly because she'd lust flashed on Jack again; drinking with him in the White
Swan at Frant, watching the firelight crackle shadows
across his face and hearing how strange he sounded
under all the horse-brasses and dried hops hanging from
the timbers. 'How was Verbier? I heard you did the
ogul field at Mont-Fort in record time. That must feel
great.'

Karen flushed. Condescending bitch, she sounded like
the Queen asking what you did for a living. Karen had
squeezed everything she had to shave one second twenty
off that run, a tough mogul field, relentless and very
steep. And she knew she was still three or four seconds
off Elizabeth's average.

'Hardly a record. Heidi Laufen has that and you have
the British.'

'English, then, you'll have the English record.'
Yeah right. Karen shrugged and left the room.
Elizabeth flopped down on her bed and stared out at
the pistes. What the hell, it was good to have the
hostility. Something other than Jack to occupy her mind.


300

At six p.m. sharp Elizabeth appeared in the drawing
room for supper, a tasteless fish and pasta thing cooked
up by the team nutritionist.

'Protein, carbs, bit of fat, the boffins know what
they're doing,' Ronnie Davis said cheerily, thanking God
he could go down to the Little China in the village later.
'Here are your schedules, girls. Elizabeth, here's yours.
Hans has called and he'll be meeting you tomorrow.'

Elizabeth dutifully wolfed her food while the other
girls chattered. Teams and times and who was going to
get busted in the drugs samples, the Spanish team's new
skis and who was screwing who. Janet had been asked on
to A Question of Sport and Karen thought a sponsorship
deal with Nike was in the works. God, as if any of it
mattered! Elizabeth thought. She said nothing after
Ronnie went to go and check the weights room, eating
her tasteless food and trying to rehearse the courses in her
mind. 5he was trying to become a race machine. Maria
Perafia's new skis and Freyja Gundstrom's drug test, so
what? If it was Louise Levier, now ...

Elizabeth took her plate to the kitchen and washed it
up. None of the others said a word, but she didn't give a
monkey's. They could try and send her to Coventry like a
pack of bitchy schoolgirls; she was going to work out and
then head straight for bed.

On her way through to the chalet gym Elizabeth
paused in the TV room. There was a bunch of papers
strewn prominently over the sofas. She grinned as she
saw they were English, great! Ro.nnie's censorship hadn't
worked that well.

Elizabeth flopped down and leafed through them. Sun- speak doggerel about Our Boys in the 5outh Atlantic, but
it was good to get news from the outside world. If only to
remember that there were other things in this world
besides the Olympics. Shooting in El Salvador, John de
Lorean had gone bust and some English cricketers were


3oI

banned for busting sanctions to tour South Africa. There
were no ads for Dragon Gold, maybe they'd all run
yesterday. Elizabeth flipped to the back pages. Nice snaps
of Christopher Dean doing a faultless double-axel. She
hoped the turnouts about those two were true, that they
could skate both Yanks and Russians right off the ice ...
her green eyes flicked determinedly over the story topped
by an unsmiling Jack Taylor, his cruel mouth set hard as
a gladiator. Then there she was: big picture, her ski-poles
in one hand, goggles round he/neck, hair pulled back
from a chiselled face. Elizabeth recognised the shot, her
triumph after a personal best Super-G in practice, back at
Davos. At that moment she recalled the mix of triumph
and annoyance, because it sunk in how much Jack's
training had helped her. She looked gorgeous. She

couldn't suppress a thrill of pride.

She soon stopped grinning.

'SNOW HELP TO BRITAIN,' sniped the Sun. 'TEAM SPIRIT SAVAGED,' screeched the Mirror. 'SELFISH SECRETIVE,
SAVAGE,' screamed the Star.

The articles were pure acid. Elizabeth was a playgirl

who insisted on luxury hotels and refused to train with
the team. Not a word about the fact that her training was
agreed by Ronnie, that the hotels were to keep her away
from the press ... if you read this you'd think Elizabeth
was betraying her country, taking a skiing holiday at the
nation's expense.

'We hope Lady Elizabeth knows what she's doing,'

said the Sun. 'If she gets the g01d - terrific. If not, we'll
need some answers, Lady E - England expects, you
know.'

'What the hell's this?'

Ronnie Davis reached down and tore the papers out of

her hands. 'Don't pay any attention to that crap, love.'

He stuck his head into the kitchen. 'Ladies, get in here

LOW.'

'What's the problem, Ronnie? Kate asked innocently.
Ronnie shook the crumpled sheets of newsprint. 'This.
English papers I told you we weren't having. Somebody
must have ordered them up here. They've been printing
crap about Elizabeth I didn't want her to see.'

All three denied it, Karen shaking her head like butter
wouldn't melt.

Elizabeth rhade a real effort and shoved the lump back
down her throat. Somebody had not only wanted her to
see that, they'd been feeding the media those lies in the
first place.

'It's OK.' She looked at the girls with measured calm.
'After all, I am World Champion. I don't let fish-and-chip
wrapping put me off my stroke.' She paused and looked
directly at Karen. 'I can promise you, it'll take a lot more
than that.'

303


Chapter


Nina's heart lifted as she stepped out of Swissair Flight
223. There were no soaring mountains as you came in to
land at Heathrow. The sky was overcast and the plane
was full of grumpy passengers carrying their Lindt
selections and cuckoo clocks, all wishing they were still
out on the slopes. But not Nina.

A Dragon driver, mercifully untalkative, had been sent

to pick her up. You had to give it to Tony. When you

were with Dragon, life was smooth.

'Home or office, madam?'

'Home, please.' Nina was still young enough to get a
kick out of being called 'madam'. She settled back into
the soft leather seat and watched the motorway slip past.
She thought pleasantly that soon this would be normal
for her, once she was promoted. A Golf GTi wouldn't
cut it then. And hell, why not? It happened to the young
Turks in the City and Wall Street all the time. Nobody
could say she didn't deserve it.

There was a minibar, a TV and a copy of the Financial
Times on the back seat. Nina flicked to the share listings.
Sure enough, Dragon was up, a real big jump - two and
an eighth - and if she was right, this was just the
beginning.
She poured a glass of mineral water with a slice of
lime. It was good for the skin. She didn't want to be all
dehydrated when she saw Harry again. Once she'd talked
some sense into Tony, they could start dating. Nina
shifted a little. Harry still left an echo, that sweet crunch


304

she thought she'd never get without shame. Wow, kid,
what a discovery, Nina teased herself, there's more to life
than work.

Namath had made her less hard but more alive, like
somebody unthawing after an age in an ice-box. It was
better than triumph or satisfaction. It was simple happiness
and hope, because maybe, at last, things were going
to be different.

Her place was perfect: furniture replaced, radiators on,
warming the house against the March chill. Anita had
even gone to M&S to stock the fridge.

Nina rushed upstairs and took a long, blissful shower,
then phoned the office.

'Coming in today? Surely there's no need,' Anita
protested.

'There's lots of need.'

'You could take the afternoon off. Nobody expects you
in. Maybe you could go shopping.'

Nina chuckled; she hadn't changed that much. 'No, I'll
be there in an hour. Could you possibly call Frank
Staunton and let him know?'

'OK, I'm sure the boss'll want to see you.'

True, Frank Staunton was her boss. Well, not for much
longer.

'And somebody else will want to say hello, I expect.
Friends of yours from Switzerland: Dr Hall and Dr
Namath, they've popped in to see Frank.'

Even though there was nobody around Nina blushed.
'Er, great, sure. See you soon.'.


The Dragon tower on the South Bank loomed forbiddingly
into the grey sky as Nina stepped in out of the
drizzling rain. She'd changed into a Donna Karan tweed,
with Manolo Blahnik heels and a thick silver cuff
bracelet, one she'd bought herself from Mappin & "ebb.
Tonight she was going to send Tony a thick parcel of


3o5

jewels. If he refused to take them she'd send them to
charity. She was never going to wear them again.

'Good morning, Miss Roth,' the receptionist said.
Nina clocked the quick flash of hostility from one
beautiful girl meeting another. She was pleased, that
meant she looked good. Men she recognised smiled and
waved. A good sign. They thought it was worth kissing
up to her. The quarterly report must have made quite an
impact.

The elevator hissed smoothly to a stop and Nina
stepped out, smiling and glad-handing her way to her
office. Anita greeted her with a mug of coffee and a
mountain of notes.

, 'Just to get you up to speed on recent developments.

The Helmers acquisition went through, Clophramine has

been approved for beta-testing. Frank Staunton wants to
see you in twenty minutes. I'll buzz you, OK?'

'Fine.' Nina sat down and leafed through the headlines.
Only one page got her attention: a curt memo from
George Gage, in Production, copied to New Products.

'Owing to quality control concerns, company product
no. 87569 is being temporarily discontinued. Sales are to
be withdrawn until further notice.'

Memos like this were the kiss of death. Advertising
was immediately stopped and further orders not accepted.
The last time Mr Gage's clammy spectre had fallen
on her division was with Protaxin, their hotly tipped
anticoagulant, when one final batch of tests had shown
delayed side-effects - two chimps became impotent.
Nobody in pharmacology liked the word 'lawsuit'.

Nina lowered her coffee and tapped her computer
keyboard. Interesting - normally products didn't get out
there unless they were super-safe. The cost of recall was
huge.

Her IBM flashed up the name: 87569, pr.oduct,

306
Dragon Gold, executive in charge, Lady Elizabeth Savage.

She gave a low whistle. Goddamn, he really knew how
to bear a grudge. Elizabeth's strategy had been ground
breakingly successful. Nina knew it could have opened
the door to the vitamin market. Three billion dollars a
year's worth of trade, parcelled up between three of their
rivals - Hoffman LaRoche, Eastman Kodak and Pfizer.
Caerhaven had wanted a way in for years, but he'd rather
throw it away than take it from Elizabeth.

For a second she almost felt sorry for Elizabeth. Tony
was a hell of an enemy.

Not my problem, Nina thought.


'Come in, come in.' The Terrier gave Nina a thin little
smile, his eyes sliding over her suit without seeing it. 'The
traveller 'eturns. Good work, by the way.'

'Thank you, sir,' Nina said, as Staunton ushered her in.
Harry and Lilly were sitting on his burgundy leather
couch.

'A great achievement, the liaison with two of our
prized assets.'

Liaison? I [ound them! Nina smiled as neutrally as she
could at Harry and his partner. Lilly looked at Nina
coldly, said, 'G'day, kid.' Harry sprang to his feet. He
walked over to her.

'You look gorgeous,' he murmured. Nina flushed and
shook hands. Harry traced a small line on her palm, one
fingertip stroking the soft flesh between her thumb and
forefinger. It was too sensuous. Nina yanked her hand
away.

'Hello, Harry, I hope you're settling in OK.'

'No complaints,' Namath replied. His tone was grave
but his eyes were dancing.

'Dr Hall was just going through her latest results with
me,' Frank Staunton said.


3o7

'Then I won't bother you,' Nina said with relief.

'I'll drop by your office when we're done,' Namath

said.

'That would be fine.' She smiled briskly.

Frank Staunton turned back to the dumpy woman on

his couch. How delicious, her attempts to hide it were
pathetic. Nina had something going on with Namath. He
was sure that would interest Tony. It was just the kind of
thing the Terrier loved to ferret out..For the daughter and the girlfriend, things were going to get a little hot around
here ...


In her office Nina pressed a cooling hand to her brow.
Oh God, Harry, you shouldn't have let anything show ...
, Anita poked her head round the door. 'I've got the
priority mail for you, and your copy of the quarterly
report.'

'Great! Let me see it,' Nina said. Anita handed the
newsletter over; the Dragon logo stamped in gold on
thick vellum, charts and projections at the front, new
business at the back. She found her piece right away: 'A
New Approach to Drug Research'. Nina felt victory flood
through her. She settled down to read.

Two minutes later, her heart stopped.

For a few seconds she felt dizzy, so stunned and
betrayed she didn't know what to do. Then Nina lifted

her phone and tapped out Mrs Perkins's extension.
'Chairman's office, can I help you?'

'Yes you can, Mrs Perkins. This is Nina Roth. I'd like

to speak to Lord Caerhaven.'

'I'm afraid that won't be possible.'

'Mrs Perkins, I must speak to him. It's urgent.'

Tm afraid it's still not possible,' Mrs Perkins told her
smugly. 'Lord Caerhaven isn't in the country. He can't be
reached. I can take a message--'

Which he'll never get. 'I see. Where is he?'


308

'He's out in Switzerland, Miss Roth. Cheering on Lady
Elizabeth.'


'It's going to look bad,' Ronnie Davis warned Hans. 'The
papers are eating her alive.'

']a, and now she knows this!'

Ronnie quailed a little before Hans's fury. Amazing

how the old man could screw with your head.
'That wasn't my fault.'

'I know, Ronnie. But look at her.' Hans pointed to
Elizabeth, sweating bullets as she peeled off her goggles.
'What says your stopwatch?'

'Five-forty on the Cassons. Two-ten on Nagens-Start
gels,' Ronnie agreed. 'And her Super-G's picked up
almost a second and a half. She's making amazing times.'

'She can do better. We have but two days. No more
distractions and envy.' Hans glared at the silhouette of
Karen Carter. 'Bitte, Elizabeth leaves the team chalet and
moves in with me.'

'OK, guy.' Ronnie threw up his hands. 'If it's right for
the team ...'

'For the team? Acb! I do not know, I do not care. For
Elizabeth, it is right.'

Both men glanced back at Elizabeth. On the wooden
slats of the cool-down room, her long, lean body was
twisting itself backwards and forwards as she bent into
her deep stretches. Elizabeth wore the geometric slashes
of the red, white and blue, a mobile Union Jack. Hans
had deliberately delayed the time she would put this on;
when she wore the national colours it had to be
significant, like donning armour for battle. Suddenly it
was about more than times, rankings and rivals. Fr/iulein
Laufen was not just Heidi, she was Switzerland; Marie Le
Blanc was France; and for these few weeks, Elizabeth
would be Britain, taking her country's flag into battle.

309


That was the magic of the Olympics. For yourself, you
could get tired and weak and jaded. For your country,
you would fight till you dropped.

'So what's the story?' Ronnie Davis asked. 'She will get

a medal?'

'Of course.'

'And what colour?'

The old man gave him an incredulous stare. 'She will

get the gold. I am surprised you .even ask. I have never

been more certain of anything in my life.'


'Lovely,' Monica said. She reached over and gingerly
unwrapped a whisky silk scarf from its layers of tissue.
Their suite at the Park Hotel was the best Flims had to
offer. Every place in town had been sold out for weeks.
TV crews swarmed over the resort like ants, besieging
the skiers" chalets and the Olympic Village. Spectators
arrived every day, a polyglot crowd packing everything
from the Park to the lowliest rented chalet. Even if you
were the parents of a medal hopeful, there was no room
at, the inn.

Unless of course you were Tony Savage.

'We'll stay for Elizabeth's races, then we'll go straight

back,' Tony said. His face was expressionless as he stared
up at the mountains. The competitors' chalets were
fenced off; some common little man named Davis had
curtly told him he couldn't speak to the little bitch. But
words were being had in London right now, and that
would change.

'Oh, really, darling?' Monica murmured, admiring
herself in the wall mirror. The Nicole Farhi in orchid
lambswool clung to her concave stomach and slender
shoulders, swaying below the hem when she moved. And
Tony's latest offering, a necklace of diamonds and lapis
lazuli, just this side of vulgar, would set it off beautifully.
She knew she'd photograph wonderfully tonight. And


31o

omorrow night. And every day that the cameras asked
for comments from the proud parents. 'I think we could
stay, don't you?'

'If you like,' Tony agreed absently. The fax machine in
the drawing-room was spewing out confirmations of
everything he wanted to hear. Elizabeth's pill, all her
sales routes and advertising, had been withdrawn from
every region like it was toxic. His word had gone down,

and her work was snuffed out like a candle.

The phone rang. Monica picked it up.

'Monica Caerhaven ... oh darling, it's you, how
thrilling. Yes, he's here.' She languidly handed the phone
across to her husband. 'It's Elizabeth, dear, for you.'

'Thank you.' Tony cupped one hand over the receiver.
'Darling, why don't you find Charlie and Richard and go
out shopping for a while?'

It wa.s a clear dismissal, and Monica didn't hesitate.
Smiling. blandly, she nodded and left the suite.

'Hello Elizabeth,' Tony said. 'I've got some rather bad
news for you.'

tChapter 3 z


Outside the chalet windows it was still dark, the deep
blue shadows of the Alpine massifs blocking the rising
sun. There had been a snowfall last night. Elizabeth could
tell from a faint scent in the freezing air, and from the
way the sky was brightening, the streaks of dawn lighter
than usual. She'd slept fitfully, tossing and turning in the
hard orthopaedic bed. She'd tried to sleep but it was no
good. The conversation with Tony had filled her with a
white-hot rage that just refused to simmer down.

He'd torn apart her work, her baby. No consultation,
nothing. Sure, she'd expected him to be a bit annoyed,
but nothing like this. To stop her having any success,
Toy was prepared to wipe out all their market gains and
take thousands in losses. She felt the bitterness as
strongly now as she had last night. Once the Games were
over, she was going to have to decide what to do. Father
had buckled in in the first place, why? Because he was
scared she'd make a scene. Not such a strong reason,
Elizabeth thought, but it was to him. So what would
Tony do once she was gold medallist? She'd be famous
back home. Like they said, you were World Champion
for a year, but Olympic Champion for life.

The desire for revenge. It was incredibly strong. It was
blazing up in her. She started to march on the spot,
swinging her arms and heels through the warm-up she
could do in her sleep. Hot blood started singing round
her body. She hadn't needed more incentive, but there it
was - the gold would give her the means to get back at

Tony. And Nina Roth. How could she figure it out from
the notes I gave her? Elizabeth wondered, but clearly she
had, and she'd shopped her straight to Daddy. Oh, the
delight Nina must have felt, bringing her downm

She stopped herself as she lifted one leg on to the
windowsill, bowing into the stretch. Come on, girl, not
now. You've got exactly one day to the start of the
ninety-fifth Olympiad.

There was a sharp rapping on the door. Hans poked
his head round.

'Hey, I didn't mean to wake you.'

The old man waved that aside. 'Only in the morning

you ski, you must rest all afternoon.'

'OK, boss.'

'Where are you going?'

'Sogn Gion this morning.' The men's World Cup run
was a women's Olympic downhill for the first time.
Tomorrow afternoon Elizabeth would be out there for
real.

'Some others are also there.'

'No kidding, it must be a regular traffic iam,' Elizabeth
said wryly. Everybody would want to get last-minute dry
runs in.

'Do not be distracted, Liebcben,' Wolf lectured her
sternly.

'Don't worry.' Elizabeth turned her head to him. It was
amazing, Wolf thought how she could be covered with
streaks of sunblock and goggle-lines and still look so
beautiful, so dignified. The blorde hair had lightened two
shades in the mountain sun and her green eyes sparkled
with fierce determination. 'Nothing is going to distract
me now.'


Elizabeth ski'd down to the first lift areas. Hans was
right, it was busy. Practice suits were out, national flags
were in; unless your suit was stamped with an official

number, you didn't see snow in Flims today. She waved
cheerfully at Robin Cousins, walking past her to the ice
rink; Martin Bell was queuing for the cable-car up to
Cassons; the Swiss hero Pirmin Zubriggen was chatting
to Alte Skaardal from Norway. The women were busier
around the Murtscheg gondola. Most were clutching
their skis to them like shields. French flags, Swedish,
Norwegian, Austrian, Swiss. Elizabeth's heart gave a sick
little flip when Louise Levier passed her; there were six
girls in the blood-red suits with the white crosses, but she
knew Louise by the tight waist and lean, mean quads.
The Swiss turned her head and nodded politely. Neither
of them felt like small talk.

Somebody tapped her on the shoulder as she shuffled

ito the line. Karen Carter.

'Shall we ride up together?'

'Sure,' Elizabeth said blandly. She breathed in, the

chilly morning air stinging her nose. Steam was rising
from their breath like cows standing in the farm back
home.

'You might as well. The press heard Hans moved you

out of the team chalet."

'I wonder how that could have happened,' Elizabeth

said mildly. She wasn't rising to it. She gestured over at
the queue for Cassons. 'Look at Martin and Graham.
Martin was top ten in practice yesterday. Wonder what
they're talking about?'

'Most likely Jack Taylor,' Karen said, glancing at her

with nasty pleasure.

Elizabeth shrugged. Maybe it was. The rumours of

Jack's total dominance in practice surprised nobody. If he
won his gold as easily as they were expecting him to, he'd
be a legend, the new Franz Klammer. To Karen she only
said, 'Look lively, dear, or we'll miss our spot.'

The gondolas swung round, scooping up the athletes.
Elizabeth and Karen climbed in with some French


314

officials and half the Spanish team, two hefty girls ranked
twentieth and thirty-first in the world. They stared at
Elizabeth most of the way up, whispering in awe. Karen
was really pissed off.

Elizabeth smiled at her serenely and turned her attention
to the crisp new snowfall on the Olympic runs
beneath them. The gondola swung upwards and
onwards, into space, flying them to the cold, white roof
of the world. It was the last session before the Games,
and skiing, thought Elizabeth, would be the only thing on
her mind.


At Sogn Gion Karen got out, strapped up and ski'd off
without another word. There was no way she was going
to follow Elizabeth and be ghown up. Elizabeth smiled at
the Spaniards and some others pressing round the top of
the run,She felt warmly about the lower-level girls; kids
for whom it was the thrill of a lifetime just to be in the
Games, to march out tomorrow in their national blazers.
When she saw the threats - the Austrians, Louise, Heidi
or any others - Elizabeth looked away. It was like an
electric shock. Those super-fit, super-skilled she-wolfs
stood between her and the dream. There was no point in
false friendship when the piste was the arena, and the skis
on your feet were swords.

Elizabeth pulled her dark blue helmet on and clicked
her Rossignols into place. This run was straightforward.
Long, almost 3,500 feet vertical, with spectaculor views.
Not that she had any time to. look at scenery.

She took a deep breath and pushed off. Straight away
she was picking up speed, leaning into the first left.
Elizabeth was skiing by reflex, her body adjusting, leaning, pushing, her weight shifting on the skis, mingling
with the mountain's slope. Fresh morning snow plumed
up around her, downy as feathers, flying back from the
slicing cut of her edges. She was threading her way

through other girls, diving and leaning through them
with precision that left them gasping. Over a stomach
flipping ridge, Elizabeth's strong back flattening almost
to horizontal, perfect lift as she landed. Exhilaration
flooded her like oil round an engine, she was hot, she had
it! There was Karen, Jesus, look at her, boring textbook
skiing. Elizabeth flew past her. Now the run was clear for
a little while, she could see the red and green of the
Italians towards the finish. She turned to hug the treeline,
she felt weightless, the speed and gravity had dissolved
her mass. First past the ridge and then through
this glade ...

There was another figure on the course. Skiing in the

blind spot under the forest, so she hadn't expected
anyone there. Far too big and fast to be a female.

Wearing the starry costume of the USA.

Jack Taylor.

Elizabeth reacted fiercely. Her heart was pulsing,, it
happened in a millisecond of real time, but this was ski
time, parcelled in half seconds and point two-fives. She
barrelled slightly to the right, her skis shooting across the
diagonal, arcing powder up behind her and all over Jack
as she jumped the ridge in front of him. She had faster
momentum, it bombed her right in front of him, flying
over the jump and landing. Point, plant, lift, slice to the
right and fly down the home straight. He was coming
after her. She didn't look behind her, but his shadow was
on the snow, dark on the crystals, glittering sunrise pink.
Furiously Elizabeth ski'd from the gut, her waist crunching
as she whipped in to the final turn, close by the
orange nets. It was silent out here, their blades just
skimming the snow, but the fury of her competition was
totally real. Jack was gaining on her inexorably, he had
too much muscle, he was going to win ...

No! Elizabeth's body screamed. No! No! She thrust
violently with her poles and willed herself forwards as

Jack arrived beside her, every tendon in her legs blazing,
and shot across the finish line, first by less than a head.

Elizabeth unhooked her helmet. Jack Taylor ripped off
his goggles, glaring at her. She turned and pushed off
without a word, skiing on to the start of an easy red.

Jack schussed down behind her, both poles tucked
under one arm, his balance perfect, fluid and controlled.
He grabbed her by her arm.

'What the hell was that all about?'

'You were in my way,' she snapped.

'No, ma'am, but you sure got in mine,' Jack said. The
dark eyes flicked over her body-tight suit. Elizabeth felt
herself respond, an involuntary twitch between her legs,
her nipples hardening under the thermal fabric.

'If you can't take the competition, Jack ... I hear
Zubriggen's looking good this year. It must be nasty, to
get bea.t out by a girl.'

'You moved pretty fast.'

'Fast enough to ski you off the snow, Taylor,' Elizabeth
snapped, 'and you must have made a damn slow
time from the top for me to catch you like that.'

'Well now. Wrong again, sugar. I stopped to tighten up
a clip. I'd just started up again when you came tearing
down with a bug up your ass.'

'Yeah? But you took me on, and you lost.'

Jack snorted. 'Because you had a fifty mph start, girl.
You couldn't beat me if I was skiing on one leg.'

Elizabeth glanced up to see a small crowd of girls
pretending not to watch them fight. Angrily she flattened
her edges and slipped down into the trees. Jack tilted his
skis in perfect harmony, so they moved with each other
like synchronised swimmers.

'Bullshit. It's all macho bullshit, Jack,' she taunted.
'That what Holly Ferrell tells you when you hold her
hand down the Lauberhorn? Oh, Jack, you're so good,
nobody in the world can touch you ...'

Karen, Kate and Janet stood around her but didn't
bother making conversation. She almost smiled. Family
and team, it was just the same; surrounded by people but
on my own, Elizabeth thought.

She wondered how Jack was feeling right now.

Over her blazer her tawny hair lay long and glossy.
Under the TV lights it would show up almost platinum.
Maybe it would--

'Royaume-Uni!' bellowed the announcer. 'Great Briz
tain!'

Elizabeth straightened up as the column began to walk
forwards, Lucy tilting the flag just right so it fluttered
free. She thrust back the butterflies squirming in her
stomach, smiled, and waved like the Queen.

,
	After all, the world was watching.

Chapter 3 3


Nina sat in her office and considered her future.

Her options were very limited now. She had to believe
that Tony had some explanation. Without the newsletter
giving her credit, it looked like this was just another
success for Dragon's team. She wasn't even mentioned by
name.

After a lot of pushing, Mrs Perkins had admitted that
Tony was due back in England tomorrow. He couldn't
spend a-whole week in Switzerland glad-handing his
cronies when Dragon's stock was rising so fast. She knew
the Robber Baron. Buy something fast, before all that
extra cash sloshing around becomes a homing beacon for
a takeover shark even bigger than him.

'Could you try and reach him in Flims, Mrs Perkins? I

need an urgent meeting.'

'About what?'

'I'm afraid that's really between me and Lord Caerhao
yen,' Nina said smoothly. Stick it up your ass, she
thought sourly. Whatever Tony was playing at, she was
still persona grata at this firm. The airport limo, the
obsequious doormen, the very fact that Mildred Perkins
was taking her calls; these things" only happened to
Friends of Tony. In fact Mrs P. would probably assume
Nina wanted to arrange a rendezvous, and it would be
more than her job was worth to stand in the way of any
pleasure of Tony's.

'Certainly, Miss Roth,' said Mrs Perkins thinly, then
hung up.

When Nina came back from lunch there was a message

on her voice mail. Tony telling her to meet him at the
Halkin at nine p.m. He sounded pleased, like she had
finally seen sense. And he had nothing on the agenda but
sex.


Elizabeth stood at the start of the Lauberhorn, quietly
flexing her quads and calves, waiting to be called. First in
SuperoG and the two Flims downhills, second in the
slalom to Levier. Best of all, Louise had crashed in the
Cassons race and Marie Le Blanc came second in Super
G, so right now, her competitors were spread out. The
British tabloids were reserving judgment, but they'd
stopped slagging her off.

, Hans was icy cool. He let her give one-line statements
to ITV and Olympic Grandstand, that was it. After
Flims all he said was that she needed to work on the
slalom. Good old Hans; Elizabeth knew he'd be down at
the bottom right now eating his heart out.

This was the Blue Riband race. Women had never been
permitted to ski the Lauberhorn before in any World
Cup. People died on this run, their skis tangling in orange
netting, shooting into trees in the fog, taking too much
speed after the endless right-hand bend; men broken like
dolls under the shadow of the Eiger, looking out at the
Schilthorn valley. The safety officers were screaming in
protest, but the girls wanted to ski it, and TV wanted the
ratings. There was no women's.record for the Lauber
horn, so Janet Fraser of Great Britain had set the first;
three minutes fifteen, the first and last record she'd hold
in her life.

Louise Levier made three-eight. Heidi Laufen three
seven. Marie three-ten. All blazing performances. Ingmar
Lystrom, the Swede, crouched in the starting hut in her
blue and yellow suit, heard the gun and slipped noiselessly
out into the descent. The crowd went nuts, .yelling

and ululating, shaking their cowbells and football rattl
She was next.

'Number eight, representing Great Britain, Lady Eli:
beth Savage!'

Elizabeth stepped up into the starter's hut. She was 1
favourite, the noise was deafening; a few boos w
mixed in with the bells and whistles, the home cro'
were for Heidi and Louise. The countdown began, ,
felt strangely calm. Nerves .that seethed minutes befc
you ski'd sort of evaporated once you were actually
there. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the cro
packed behind the nets, Union Jacks waving brigh
against the snow. Behind them and the Olympic me
towers the Schilthorn loomed up, white snow and crag
black rock. It was settling; the Alps were uncaril
unchanging; the Olympics would blink in and out of t

valley and leave no trace behind it.

She pushed off.

The schuss, leaning as low as possible, feeling the sp
pick her up like a bullet and fire her down the tra
Plant, slice, she had it covered, she saw the jump, soar
clear and landed smoothly. The crowd shrieked but s
was hundreds of yards on already. Now hug the tre
careful, careful, lower with the body - Elizabeth's tit
quads steering her. Through the tunnel, bombing over I
snow, the other girls had already packed it a little low
squeezing out some air, the surface was faster that w'.
Long, long right, Jack's instructions flashing up and ,,
shifted left milliseconds before the turn. For a mom
she thought she wasn't coming back up, her gravity v
too low, but then she tilted, righted herself, she v
upright again, too fast to see flags or register cheeri
There was the gate! Low, if you were thinking you w
too slow ...

Elizabeth thrust through the gates, couldn't slow do,

3z3


fast enough and tumbled over under her own tidal wave

of powder. She felt like an idiot, scrambled to her feet.

For a moment they all just waited. Elizabeth hated this:

your racing heart stopped, you couldn't breathe until the
time flashed up. Hans walked over, put his bony hands
on her strong shoulders.

Three-six point five-five. A roar went up from the
crowd, Ronnie Davis jumped three feet in the air. 0.45 of
a second faster than Heidi Laufen. The Swiss team turned
away in disgust, the camera crews rushed forwards and
Hans gave her a dry little nod. Her lead was extended yet
again. Less time than a heartbeat, but it said, Britain one,
Switzerland two and three.

'Lady Elizabeth - CNN--'

*
	'Lady Elizabeth, can ITV have a few words--'

Camera lights shone brightly into Elizabeth's rosy face;

microphones like fluffy marrows hung suspended over
her head and hand-held ones were thrust under her nose.

'How does it feel to win the first women's Lauber
horn?'

'I wouldn't know, I haven't won. Christy and other

great skiers have to go yet. It was a thrilling course to
race, and I'm just going to concentrate on the next
slalom.'

'That's it, ladies an' gents,' Ronnie said, beckoning to
officials to get the rat pack off his girl. 'Liz, that was
brilliant, you were flying down the fucking thing, I
thought you were going to take .off!'

Hans Wolf gave him a reproving look. 'You lost
control at the end.'

'Yeah, but only after I was through the gate.'

'It's not good, it shows you lose control. If it happens

on the run, glaub" mir, you can die.'

Elizabeth lowered her head, annoyed. She was burning

with triumph, she thought Hans might have been a bit

more upbeat.


3z4

'Elizabeth, your dad's flying home today,' Ronnie said.
'He wanted you to give him a call before he leaves.'

Elizabeth smiled. 'I don't want to talk to him. If he

asks again, tell him I can't be bothered, simple as that.'
'Right,' Ronnie said uncertainly.

Elizabeth reached over and took a yellow flask of
isotonic squash from an official. Tony could go screw
himself. Once she had the gold in her pocket, she could
make his life a misery.

'Still we have more work to do,' Hans said, like he
could read her thoughts.

Elizabeth nodded and smiled. Behind them Stars and
Stripes were waving, the crowd cheering Kim Gideon's
competent three-eleven.

'I know. It's not over yet.'

The words sounded blissfully unconvincing. Bring
them on, llizabeth thought, Heidi, Louise, Tony ... she
was going to blow everyone away. This was her moment.

She was invincible.


Nina arrived at the Halkin at nine precisely. Tony had
avoided her calls all day, but he was going to have to deal
with her now.

She checked herself out in the elevator mirror as she
rode up to his suite. Her raven hair was twisted up in a
formal French pleat; her suit was Comme des Garcons,
chocolate brown piped with cream. Low mahogany heels
from Pied-/oTerre, opaque silky tights, no jewellery. Her
make-up was shades of brandy, berries and gold. She
looked five years older in this rig. Beautiful, but serious
too.

The elevator slid noiselessly to a halt and discharged
her. Nina stared to feel a little scared. God, she wished
she'd been able to get hold of Harry. They'd had just one
Chinese together, the first night she got back, then he'd
jetted off to France with Lilly. The dinner had not been.


3z5

the slam-dunk Nina wanted. She was tired and edgy from
the flight and the shock of the report, and mad at Harry
for coming on to her in front of Frank Staunton. Harry
was loose and she was wound up like a string ball. They
hadn't fought, exactly, but Nina left early. Nina's fortune
cookie told her to beware the dark forces lining against
her. Harry's said he would be successful in all he did.

She wished she'd been a bit softer with Harry. She
could have done with a friend right now.

Nina pressed the doorbell outside the earl's suite.
Tony opened it and ushered her in, smiling softly.
Inside the expensive Japanese minimalism of his suite
someone had laid a table laden with extravagant dishes,
vintage Krug chilling in a silver ice-bucket and warm

' bottles of saki next to plates of sushi and vases of purple
orchids. Nina's glance swept to the single bed. There was
a large, royal-blue box laid out on it, stamped with the
gold crest of some jeweller or other.

She wanted to laugh. That was his answer to everyt.hing.
'I don't buy it any more, Tony,' Nina said harshly.

He lifted an eyebrow. 'What don't you buy?'

'This bullshit.' She pointed to the table and the box.
'Whatever it is, I hope you got a receipt.'

'Nina.' Tony Savage sat down calmly on a cherry
wood-backed chair and looked her over. 'What are you
talking about? Come on, darling, I hope you're not going
to be difficult. You're a clever girl, you know how stupid
that would be.'

'Are you threatening me?'

'Threatening you? Don't be idiotic. Think about who I

am and who you are. Sounds like you have delusions of
grandeur, Nina. You're really not that important.'

'I'm the reason Dragon went up five points in two
weeks,' Nina said fiercely. 'That work was mine. My


3z6

words in the report. But you didn't credit me, you didn't
even mention me.'

'Why should I?' Tony said, and there was an edge to
his voice. He reached for the champagne, popped the
cork and poured out two glasses. 'It wasn't your work, it
was Dragon's work. Done with our funds, achieved with
our name. We did struggle along quite nicely before you
arrived.'

'You have to give me credit for the work I've done.
Nobody else in this company managed it. You owe me
promotion and--'

'I don't owe you a bloody thing,' Tony said, standing
up and walking towards her. He didn't shout, but there
was a quiet menace in his voice that made Nina shrink
inside. 'I rescued you from Nowheresville, Brooklyn, I
made you a wealthy young girl--'

'Out of-the kindness of your heart.'

'Nina, this is silly,' Tony said silkily. 'I think I've been
generous to you. Come on, darling, I can't remember a
woman I've enjoyed more.' He leaned down and stroked
the black satin coverlet on the bed. 'You want a
promotion, more money - that can be arranged, I'll
dream something up. Providing you stop all this nonsense
about credit.'

Nina stared at him. 'You think I'd sell myself to you?
My God, is that the kind of woman you think I am?'

'It's the kind of woman I know you are.' Now his eyes
were black pinpricks of cold rage. 'You proved that in
Dublin.'

'I wouldn't touch you again if you were the last man
alive!' Nina snarled.

'Of course. You prefer something a little more basic.
Like Harry Namath?' He laughed to see her pale in front
of him. 'You know me, Nina, I like to have my finger on
the pulse. But I wouldn't put too much store in that one,
darling, he's not interested any more.'


3z7

Tony's aquiline mouth was twisted in amused contempt,
watching her reaction eagerly. She felt sick.

'You told him,' she said dully.

'Of course I told him. In some detail,' Tony said
lightly. 'We had a long chat over the phone while I was in

Switzerland. I like to keep on good terms with the staff.'
Nina said nothing. She could almost hear him doing it.
'It was a pity. He seemed rather put off, didn't have
much to say. You Americans can be so prudish ... a
shame, I'd have liked to swap notes.'

'Go to hell, you bastard,' Nina spat, her eyes flooding

with tears.

Tony reached up and traced his finger round her jaw.

'But angel, you still have me. As long as we understand

' each other, I can make life very sweet for you.'

Roughly Nina pushed him away. 'Yeah, we understand

each other. I got your number. I would rather luck a

leper with syphilis.'

'I don't think you understand. I'm not asking you for

this, I'm telling you. Otherwise,' Caerhaven said blandly,
'it's over for you. You'll be fired. You won't find work at
any other drug company, once I put the word out. You're
an alien in Britain, you have no friends here, as you so
correctly put it, no credit outside. And I don't think
you've got many friends inside the company, Nina, in
fact I gather you're rather unpopular. People will assume
that you're just another tramp, this time one who worked
for me and whom I've now tired of.'

'I do understand,' Nina said, quieter now.

'Good.' Tony ticked the points off on his fingers with a
maddening smile. 'You're fired. You're kicked out of the
country. You have nothing to show for your time with
us. Word will go out loud and clear that you're a bimbo
with an attitude problem. And you won't have your
boring little boffin to run to either. He had you all
wrong, sweetheart; he doesn't want used goods.'


3z8

He picked up a flute of champagne and held it out to

her.

'Or'we can forget this unpleasantness, and you can
look forward to a very pleasant life and a bright little

future.'

Nina hesitated for a second, then took the glass.

'You were wrong about Dublin. I didn't sell myself; I
used you for what you could do for me.'

'See? We're so alike, Nina, we're two sides of the same
coin.'

Nina smiled back. She moved closer to him.

'Wrong again, my lord,' she said. Then she flung her
chilled champagne right in his eyes, and walked out of
the suite.

3z9


Chapter 34


The alarm went at six as usual. Nina was halfway to the
shower when she realised there was no need. She
wouldn't have to be in the office today.

She got up anyway, washed and dressed. She put on a
butterscotch suit, Wolford hose and flat heels. There was
no way she could feel comfortable in jeans on a Friday
morning.

Her head ached but she was dry eyed. She'd done all
her crying last night. Tony was gone, all her work had
vanished like a puff of smoke. Harry was gone too, and
maybe that was the worst thing. She wondered why it
should matter so much; it was stupid, a few meals, a
movie and one good lay. She wanted to batten down the
hatches on her weak, leaky heart. Wasn't this why she'd
sworn never again? Namath had snuck his way in there
and now she was hurting, really hurting, a fresh burst of
that soul-searing pain she thought had gone for ever.

Nina put on a little make-up. She didn't feel like it, but
it was about dignity. Tony would love to picture her sat
here crying, red nosed, with suitcases under her eyes. She
felt hollow with grief and loss,' but she wasn't going to
put it on a billboard.

Outside her window the sun rose into a balmy spring
sky. Nina fixed herself coffee and listened to the Today show on Radio Four. She was never home this late.
Outside her kitchen window Nina saw scrappy little
flowers bobbing under the fence, crocuses next to wilting
snowdrops and a couple of waxy yellow daffodils


330

bobbing cheerfully. She stared at the flowers and wondered
how they'd got there. She'd never had any time for
gardening.

At nine a.m. Nina rang Dragon.

'Can I speak to Anita Kerr in Nina Roth's office,
please?'

'One moment.' A brief pause, then, 'There is no such
office registered here, madam. Anita Kerr has been
transferred to another department.'

God, that bastard works fast. 'Which one?'

'Label Production.'

Nina felt a chill run over her forearms. Labels - that
was worse than getting fired. Anita would have to spend
her days double-checking tiny E-numbers and drugs and
RDAs. And it was based in Slough.

'But she's on vacation for a week.'

'Then Personnel. I need to discuss collection of my
personal effects.'

'You've been terminated? Whom am I speaking to?'
'This is Nina Roth,' Nina said, as calmly as she could.
The scorn in the girl's voice was something else. She
knew exactly who it was, but she was loving making
Nina jump through all these hoops.

'I'll see if Mr Sweeney can talk to you. Hold please.'
She put her on hold for a full five minutes.
'I'm sorry, but he's not available.'
'Then his deputy.'

'Nobody in Personnel is available. Would you like to
leave a message?'

Nina left her number and hung up. She had personal
notes and research papers, phone numbers for the
scientists she'd talked to, project studies on all the rival
companies. Invaluable when she was looking for a new
job. She decided to wait until lunchtime for Keith
Sweeney to call her back. The blazing humiliation was
bitter as raw sloes; she paced around her drawing-room;

33


restless, her mind racing as she tried to seize on
something, anything, she could do. She came up with
zero. Nina Roth, mid-twenties putz from Brooklyn,
versus the Earl of Caerhaven? Dino, Tom, Luc Viera,
they'd be lining up to deny anything she said.

At nine forty the doorbell buzzed. Nina opened it to
find a spotty kid in a grubby T-shirt clutching a
cardboard box.

'Nina Roff? Delivery for yer,' he said, thrusting the
box into her arms. 'Sign 'ere. If that's your car out front,
someone'll be round to collect it in a minute. And the
furniture.'

'The furniture?' Nina said blankly.

'Yeah, it's all in the papers,' he said indifferently. 'See

' ya.'

She slammed the door behind him and sat down on tile
couch. The small box contained her pens and pencils, a
pad of W. H. Smith writing paper, and three postcards
from Zurich. Her notes and notebooks were nowhere to
be seen. There was also a thick envelope franked Berman,
Gaves & Bowler. BGB were Tony's front-rank legal
firm; they were the ones he used for serious shit, the real
heavy-hitters. She ripped it open. A pink P-45 form from
the UK government, a 'you're history' form, fluttered to
the ground. She ignored that and went straight to the
letter.


Dear Miss Roth,

You are hereby advised that your employment has
been terminated for cause, as verbally advised. You
are prohibited from entering the premises of
Dragon Chemical. Your work and contact notes are
proprietary intelligence and will be retained. Your
car remains the property of Dragon and you are
required to return it immediately or face legal
action. Other personal items, purchased for you on


33z

the 'Settlement' company allowance, are also to be
returned (see itemised list attached). You will not be
receiving a reference from the company. The Home
Office has been notified of the change in your
residency status ...


There was another sharp rap on the door. Nina
jumped to her feet and opened it, to be confronted with five burly men in red and black Dragon Security outfits.
A white van was parked outside her fence.

'Owright?' said the team chief, pointing to the letter in
her hand. 'We've come for the stuff. You got the car
keys?'

Nina stood aside to let them in. Silently she fished in
her pocket for the keys to the Golf and handed them over
as the other men filed past her and started to carry off her
furniture:

'That's it,' the foreman said approvingly. He handed
her a small receipt. 'Best to get it over with quickly, like. I
knew you wouldn't make no trouble.'

'No.' Nina was quick to reassure him, if it would get
these baboons reeking of curry out of her place. 'I won't
make any trouble.'

At least, she thought in silent fury, not yet.


Friday morning dawned, crystal clear over Verbier. The
sun shone brilliantly over the rocky mountains. Snow
had been patchy, and the piste at Veysonnaz had been
thickly blanketed overnight with artificial snow.

'Suits me fine,' Elizabeth remarked to Hans over her
creamed porridge and lean ham. 'Artificial packs down
those little air pockets, it'll be faster.'

']a, and that is not so good. Veysonnaz, only a red, but
very fast. Maybe now too fast.'

'Too fast? That's like too happy, there's no such thing.'
Elizabeth smiled, her teeth white against her golden skin2


333

She had the tight, healthy glow of the peak-performance
athlete, and confidence dripped from her like jewels from
Monica's neck. Three days of events and she had built up
unstoppable momentum. Hans had never seen her ski like
this. It was like she had reached down right into her guts
and pulled up her last reserve of speed and skill. He had
to struggle to keep her away from the media, in case the
things they were saying went to her head. Her nearest
rival was Louise, with Christy second and Heidi third,
but they were way behind Elizabeth. Hans had never seen
a female like her. And he knew she knew it. She was so
confident she reminded him of Jack Taylor.

'You have two more days of races. You can be caught, Liebchen.'

'Yes, Chicken Licken, and the sky might fall down.'
'I don't understand ...'

'Oh, don't worry, Hans. I promise I won't be complacent,
not till I'm wearing the gold. Louise's really hot on
this one.' She shook her head for a second. 'What do I do
if she skis a perfect run?'

"'You want to beat someone, there is only one way,'
Herr Wolf said drily. 'Ski it faster.'

Elizabeth took a final slug of her freshly squeezed
orange juice, jumped up from the table and poked her
head out of the kitchen window. 'I'm going to go out for
a quick run down the Savoleyres.'

The speed-skiing course. Hans knew better than to
forbid it, she was just crackling with energy.

'Elizabeth, only once, verstehst Du? Or it can take the
edge off your run this afternoon.'

Magic words. The green eyes were instantly grave.
'You got it, Coach, just one trip.'


Stepping off the draglift at the top of the run Elizabeth
wondered if this was what it was like to get high. She felt
beautiful, invincible. The electric lifts were running for


334

the benefit of the Olympians alone on several runs, but
spectators on neighbouring pistes stopped to cheer her
and wave at the Union Jack suit. The icy couloirs of the
speed-skiing run were fenced off and almost deserted,
apart from two or three athletes with some adrenalin to
burn. Savoleyres was a real speed kick - leave your
stomach at the start and rocket to the bottom, the skiers'
version of bungee-jumping. A plunge on this baby would
fire her up. Elizabeth knew her brain was mainlining
serotonin, the happiness hormone you got from perfect
exercise. And victory. And the high, desert whiteness of
this mountain.

She unhooked the metal circle between her legs and
schussed forwards.

'Lucky seat. I sure wish that was me.'

Elizabeth jumped out of her skin. Jack Taylor was
standing .there, wearing a USA practice suit in subtle
navy. The men were skiing the Tortin downhill today, a
tough customer full of moguls. Elizabeth scowled a
muttered hi.

'We must stop meeting like this,' Jack said easily.
'How's Holly bearing up? She's making real good times,
you be sure and tell her how proud I am.'

'Give your messages to your girlfriend yourself, Jack,
I'm not AT&T,' Elizabeth snapped. 'I have other things
on my mind.'

'So I see. You're skiing pretty hot as well.'

'God!' Elizabeth exploded: 'You are the most arrogant
man I have ever met, Jack Taylor! Don't you dare
patronise me! I have this gold in my pocket, and you're

getting caught up by Zubriggen.'
'I tripped on the last race.'
'Always some excuse.'

'No excuse, Lizzie, I'm going to win this with a ten
point margin,' Jack said angrily.

'I'm skiing as well as you are, Jack, and I've had to


3 3 5

with your putdowns. You're oialy faster than me because
you're a man.'

'You noticed, how sweet,' Taylor said icily.

'Don't flatter yourself, Jack, you were five minutes'
fun,' Elizabeth said, hissing like a bobcat.

'Well, baby, you sure gave me a real quid pro quo," Jack said slowly, his Southern drawl crawling over her
like his eyes. 'And I'm lookin' forward to my next piece,
when you lose our bet. Though be warned, it'll last a lot
longer than five minutes. I'm going to collect in full.'

'Ooh, what would Holly say?' Elizabeth taunted.
'Except she doesn't need to worry, because you won't be
collecting anything. Now excuse me. I came here to ski.'

She snapped up her visor and pushed forwards,
, disappearing in a flash of primary colours.

Jack glared after her. He'd chased halfway round the
world for that?

'Jesus fucking Christ!' he said.


At the top of Veysonnaz the athletes stood around,
shifting on the snow and not talking to each other. Most
were silently following the monitors rigged inside and
outside the hut. There was nothing to say.

At the starting gate Elizabeth was ready to go. Her
heart was racing as though she were halfway down
already. Two minutes to triumph or defeat.

The news wasn't good. Her championship lead just
narrowed. Heidi had led until Louise ski'd, two girls
before Elizabeth. A bravura race; less than two-hundredths
of a second slower than the world record. The
race of Louise's career. And the only thing between the
Swiss girl and the podium was Lady Elizabeth Savage.
The crowd thought it was sewn up. Obviously so did
Louise, thrusting both fists skywards in a victory salute
and hurling a pole into the air like a cheerleader's baton.
There was no more time to think. The klaxon sounded


336

and Elizabeth settled forward, as low as she could go.
Within the fifteen-second start time she could choose
when to push off and she composed herself, keeping
Hans's words drumming through her head, settling low,
low as she could to the ground ...

Elizabeth shoved herself forwards, violently, launching
due south like a rocket, the packed snow hurtling beneath
her long skis, the edges turning nicely as she soared over
a hill, a mini-jump taking her twenty yards ahead. How
do you top a perfect run? You go faster, faster! Her
muscles burned as she forced herself down for the vertical
plunge, hugging the netting line for greater velocity.
Wind howled past her helmet, the crowds near by
shouting and clanging bells behind the rope. From the
blurred red, white and blue of the Union Jacks Elizabeth
knew she was ahead. Yes! Yes! She'd beat Louise, she
just needed'to keep it up, to get that speed - run a sharper
angle by the netting ...

As she headed into the final furlong Elizabeth saw the
Brits jumping up and down, hysterical with joy, waving
flags and yelling. She must be ahead! But she couldn't
take chances, had to clinch it. Elizabeth thrust herself
forward, taking the last turn at a dangerous tilt, her chest
inches from the ground, right by the netting as she

Suddenly she was out of control! A small, sick lurch
she tried to steady but was going too low and too fast to
stop, and Elizabeth slammed into the side netting,
screaming in pain as the tips of her skis thrust through
the woven nylon, halting instantly as her body travelled
forwards at over a hundred and twenty miles per hour.
Her legs were spreadeagled, flung against the solid grip of
her boots, the world was a white and blue tumble of sky
and snow, then cracking bone, her own distant screaming,
and a warm red stream of blood on the icy ground
before pain washed everything away in a terrible darkness.

337


Chapter 3 5


All she wanted to do was crawl away and die, Nina
thought. The young, beautiful woman who gazed back at
her from the mirror seemed a mirage. Surely she was a
raddled old hag of seventy; she had to be, feeling so weak
and so exhausted. All the years she'd been working, at

Green Earth, Dolan and Dragon, Nina had kept up the

' pressure, climbing hand over fist up the ladder with
blinkered determination. Now the sweep of events had
hurtled past and left her behind, and she felt drained.
Dragon was rewriting her history as ruthlessly as the
KGB; she had been a nothing, a non-person. Every day
she saw the upward march of the stock. Little articles
about Dr Hall's research appeared in the biotech
sections of the papers. And big, commanding photos of
Anthony Savage, Earl of Caerhaven, the Robber Baron,
dapper and collected as he ramraided yet another three
companies while bravely coping with the tragedy in
Switzerland.

That was the thing that saved her.

No matter how lifeless she felt, there was still a core of
strength buried deep inside. Too much pride to look at
those charming pictures and just take it. Nina clipped the
photos of Tony and pinned them everywhere - above her
kettle, on her mirrors, by her bed.

It worked like a voodoo charm. Soon grief was only
her second emotion. The first was rage.

The first thing to do was sell the house. Knight Frank
& Rutley gave her ninetyfive thousand, a profi of five


338

grand on the purchase price. Then there were the jewels.
Since Tony had refused to take them back, Nina wasn't
going to offer twice. She needed the money. Every penny
of it. You had to have funds to go to war. A place in New
Bond Street, the leathery old tortoise behind the counter
fairly drooling over the quality of the carats and the
filigree workmanship, offered six thousand. Nina
laughed and started to walk out. She left with fifteen.

Then she checked into a cheap hotel for a week to try
and figure out what to do. Flights home were cheap,
money went further in the States. Plus she had right of
residence there.

But I'm used to Britain, Nina thought. I know the
European market. And this is where Tony Savage
operates.

It might be ridiculous, she knew, but she wanted
revenge, o

If the authorities didn't know where she lived, they
couldn't serve her with any nasty letters. Nina knew
about English bureaucracy - she figured she would have
some breathing space. She rented a cheap flat in Highgate
for cash, using a false name - a nasty shock, when she'd
got used to luxury. The clothes hanging in her tatty
wardrobe were thousand-dollar suits, she had silk shirts
and Italian leather shoes and a Patek Phillipe watch, but
a tiny table, a creaking .bath and paint peeling off the
door frames. The TV was secondhand and she didn't
have a kitchen, just a fenced-off little enclosure that was
part of the drawing-room, but Nina had been in worse
dives than that.

She bought a used computer and fax machine from Exchange & Mart. That ate up a thousand pounds but
she needed those things for survival. Once they were set
up in her cramped little bedroom Nina's spirits lifted just
a touch.

Now she was ready to go to work.


339

She couldn't find a job.

Glaxo, Wellcome and ICI turned her down flat. At
Hoffman LaRoche, Eastman Kodak and Pfizer she talked
her way to a first interview but that was all. She was
trying to explain her 'upset' at Dragon, and as she sat
there fumbling the shutters came down in the interviewers'
faces. Nobody was listening ....

Tony Savage had been as good as his word.

He was clever, very clever, Nina thought bitterly as she

left SmithKline Beecham. He let her have a few interviews.
Even a couple of job offers. She could never prove
any blacklisting, but she knew just what was going on.

The jobs she was offered were suitable for an entry

level executive without a degree. Procter & Gamble's

' science trainee programme, Johnson & Johnson's marketing
course. She got five or six offers like that. She
turned them all down. They would mean years of
working her way back up; the same frustrating struggle
for promotion and recognition. It would be like starting
over.


	Nina couldn't live with that. She was going to have to

find another way.


Elizabeth blinked dizzily, her mind struggling to the
surface through pain and fatigue. She was desperately
thirsty and there was a wrenching ache in her left ankle.
Her body felt wrong. Unbalanced.

'She's coming round.' A clipped English voice, a greyhaired
doctor leaning over her bed. 'Lady Elizabeth. Do
you know where you are?'

Elizabeth whispered, 'Pain. Water.'

The surgeon lifted a beaker of water to her mouth and
motioned to a nurse. 'Give her ladyship some pethe
dine.' He gave her a brisk, impersonal smile. 'I'm Dr
Jopling, one of your father's regular consultants. He had
me flown out here to attend to you after your accident.


34o

You're in the Clinique Reine Catherine, outside Geneva.

We'll be flying you home as soon as you're fit to travel.'
The nurse silently injected something cold into her side.
Elizabeth stared at him, groping for meaning. Images
flooded back into her mind: the race, her fall, agony and
blood.

'I fell.'

'I'm afraid so. We removed your spleen. You had a
serious accident and underwent several operations, but
you're all right now.'

'No.' Elizabeth shook her head. The pethedine was
working, making her dizzy as the comforting warmth
flowed through her body, washing away the pain, but
something was very wrong.

Dr Jopling's face was professionally reassuring. 'We
can discuss everything later, once you've had a chance to
adjust. I'll.call your family; they've been waiting for you
to recover consciousness, and I'm sure you'll want to see
them--'

'Doctor.' Elizabeth's voice was a weakened croak. 'I
want to know what happened. Please tell me now.'

'Very well.' Jopling came closer to the bed and looked
like he might be going to take her hand, but then thought
better of such familiarity. 'You suffered a severe fall - at
intense velocity - sustaining serious internal and external
injuries, including haemorrhaging, broken bones and
fractures.' A beat. 'The Worst damage was done to your
left foot, which was broken by your fall and then sliced
to the bone by your right ski. This injury was further
compounded by your ski boot. It crushed the severed
portion of the foot.'

He paused. There was no way to soften the blow.
'Every effort was made to reattach, but the nerve
endings were beyond repair. I'm sorry to have to tell you
that we amputated your foot at the ankle.'

Blood drained from Elizabeth's face as she glanced.


34

down to the end of the bed. Two feet seemed to poi
upwards under the blankets, but she only had sensatk
in the right one.

'A prosthesis,' the surgeon explained. 'It's plasti,
attached to your leg with a metal frame, jointed on t[
ball of the foot to simulate as normal a walk as possibl,
The best on the market; your father insisted.'

Elizabeth quietly said, 'Thank you, Doctor.'

'You won't be crippled, Lady Elizabeth. Recovery wi
take a while, but you should be able to manage

medium-paced walk eventually.'
There was a deathly silence.
'I'll never ski again?'

'I'm afraid not.' Jopling's words were measured, bl
his tone was final. 'No running, no skiing. Apart fro1
possible gentle swimming, no athletic activity of ar
kind.'

He pretended not to notice as tears filled Elizabeth'
eyes and trickled silently down her cheeks.


;'hen she felt she had control of herself she buzzed fc
the doctor.

'I'd like to see Herr Hans Wolf,' Elizabeth said.
The name seemed to shock Jopling. His face crease just a fraction. 'Herr Wolf was refused permission to se
you.'

'Refused permission? Don't you know he's my coach'.
'Of course, Lady Elizabeth. It was precisely because h
was your coach that it was felt he would upset you
considering how you received your injury.'

'Hans had nothing to do with this. Accidents are ris
we take every time we strap up.' She pushed herself up o
her elbows and glared at Jopling with fiery eyes. 'Wh,
refused him permission? You?'

'Not at all, my lady,' Jopling said hastily. 'It was Lot,

34z


Caerhaven. He has control over all the arrangements
here.'

I'll bet he does, Elizabeth thought. 'OK, Dr Jopling,
please call Hans and ask him to come and see me.'

Jopling nodded. 'I believe Herr Wolf is staying in the
city. Despite your father's ban he refused to leave. He has
called to check on your condition every day.'

Elizabeth started to cry, she couldn't help it. She
brushed back the tears. 'Has anyone else called?'

The doctor spread his hands. 'Hundreds. The officials,
the British team coaches, your team-mates, many other
competitors, and the media ... I have a roomful of
flowers waiting for you, now you are recovered.'

Am I. 'Did ... did Mr Jack Taylor ask to see me?'

'He rang to ask after your condition, and he sent

flowers, but he didn't request an appointment, no.' 'I see,' llizabeth said dully.
'Do you want your flowers?'

She shook her head. 'I don't think I'm in the mood.
Give them to other wards.'

'Certainly, Lady Elizabeth, and I will call Herr Wolf.'
'Thank you. Doctor, who won the medals?'

Jopling looked at her with a certain amount of pity.
'Louise Levier took the gold, Christy Lansch the silver
and Heidi Laufen the bronze.'

'And Jack Taylor tookthe men's gold?'

'Of course,' Jopling said absently as he checked the
charts at the foot of her bed. 'There was never any doubt
about that.'


The door opened at three p.m. Elizabeth sat up, hoping
to see Hans, but it was her father.

Tony thanked the nurse and waited until she had
vanished before closing the door. He walked over to
Elizabeth with a vast bunch of blossoms in his arms, and


343

laid them on her bedside table. White roses, the roses for
mourning.

Elizabeth flopped back on her pillows. She knew
disappointment was all over her face but she didn't have
the strength to care.

'Darling, you look terrible. Are you feeling OK?'
Tve lost my foot, I'm never going to ski again,'
Elizabeth said flatly, 'and I've lost an Olympic crown I
had sewn up.'

'We don't know if you had it sewn up. There were

more races to come.'

'I tell you, it was sewn up,' Elizabeth repeated

'Well.' The earl perched himself on the edge of her bed.
'Never mind about that now. I've come to discuss your
future. Clearly you're not going to be skiing, and I gather
Mr Taylor is out of the picture.'

'Who do you gather that from? Your girlfriend?'

'I don't have one of those, Elizabeth, but if you're
referring to Nina Roth, she's been dismissed. For insubtrdination.'
'You're breaking my heart,' Elizabeth said bitterly.
'You get good information, though. Jack was never in the
picture. So I'll have to come and work at Dragon.'

'Yes.' Tony leaned forward and spoke softly. 'I've
thought about that. I have some terrific openings for
you.'

He reached into his jacket and handed Elizabeth a
sheet of paper. Her eyes flickered quickly across it, then
rose disbelievingly back up to his.

'You have to be joking. Corporate Hospitality, Events
Organisation, Promotional Literature - why don't you just assign me to the typing pool?'

'Why, can you type?' Tony asked urbanely.

'It's not a joke, Dad!' Elizabeth shouted. She jerked her
leg under the covers. 'My loot's made of plastic! I know


344

you were angry I did Dragon Gold without your
permissionm'

'Angry? Yes, I was angry. What you fail to understand
is that Dragon is my company. Nobody does anything
without my approval. Nobody is going to make me look
a fool, Elizabeth, you least of all.'

'I won't do those two-bit dressmaker jobs.'

'Then I'll give you a small allowance, as long as you
behave yourself and keep out of the spotlight. Don't
think there's a third option. There never was.' Tony's
smile was full of malice. 'Do you know, I thought of you
just yesterday. I was talking to Dean Bradman in the
Sydney office, and he told me the most marvellous
Australian proverb: you've got to cut down the tall
poppies. You were a tall poppy, Elizabeth, you and Nina
both.'

Elizabetl looked right into his eyes. She couldn't
believe it. She was lying here with her foot shorn away,
and this was what he was saying.


Tony held up one hand. 'Don't spoil things, Elizabeth.
You don't have the same power to embarrass me now.
You're not quite the national heroine you were. It seems
the press are blaming you for reckless skiing, and
apparently you were rather disliked by your teammates
... nothing official, of course, but that's what's leaking,
and that's what they're printing. One can't trust the
press. And none of them will be too eager to print any
muckraking stories about me, considering the source.'

'You owe me,' Elizabeth said fiercely. 'I'm your daughter. Don't you owe it to my mother?'

The earl sat up as though he'd been stung. He looked
at her again, more carefully, a musing expression on his
face.

'You look so like her,' he said absently, then, 'Those "


345

are my offers, Elizabeth. Take them or leave them. To be
honest, I don't give a damn either way.'

He tapped the paper again.

			I'm doing all of this because I owe

	fact,

		Elizabeth,

your mother.'

Elizabeth had nothing to say. She watched him as he

left the room.

He hates me, she thought. My God, he actually hates

me.

346


Chapter 3 6


Hans came by to see her. Despite his stiff manner, he was
brokenhearted and it showed. A light had gone out in
those clear blue eyes. Elizabeth had sworn she wouldn't
cry but it was no use; Hans Wolf's grief, contrasting with
Tony's casual cruelty, opened the floodgates.

'Ach, est ist unm6glich ...' He rattled off a torrent of
bitter Schweizerdeutsch, cursing the mountain, the
course, the weather, everything. 'It should have been me.
I am an okl man, but--'

'But you can still ski? No, that's how it should be. You
lived for the snow long before I was born and you'll live
for it till you die. I was careless.'

Hans's bony hand gripped hers fiercely. 'Never again
do you say that, Elizabeth. Never have I seen you ski that
way. You had wings, you were an eagle. You had the
gold in your pocket.' He snapped his fingers. 'Mademoiselle
Levier was a dairymaid next to you.'

'You didn't say that at the time.'

'Liebchen, you know your old Hans. I was only being
cautious ...'

'Wish I had been,' Elizabeth soid. She struggled for a
brave face in front of him, but despair was squatting over
her heart like a toad. Every day she forgot it when she
was medicated to sleep, then when she woke up there
were a few cruel seconds of not realising before it clicked
back in. Her prosthesis was cleverly made and fitted to
her ankle, no expense spared, a thick metal cuff covering
the join between flesh and plastic. But the basic fact was


347

still there. She was a cripple. Right now, her strength was
flowing away. Her muscles were softening as she lost her
appetite and couldn't exercise. Her reserves of energy
were draining, her heart rate speeding up. But what does
it matter, when you'll never need to be fit ever again?

Memories were torture. The crash, the Veysonnaz run,

she hardly thought about. It was her supreme, immortal
confidence. Elizabeth died when she remembered what
she'd said to Hans, and worse, to Karen and Kate, and
Jack Taylor. All the people she'd fought with. She'd
thought that gold was in her pocket like a Swiss franc.
Well, her enemies could surely laugh now.

'Cautious skiers? There is a place for them,' Hans said
stiffly. 'Teaching the snowplough to Kinder on the

' nursery slopes. There has never been a woman skier like

you.'

Elizabeth looked away before the tears started again.

The dreadful thing was, she thought that too. Deep
inside, she thought she was the greatest, could have been
the female Franz Klammer. But everybody would forget
ler now, not right away, but soon. One single World
Cup does not a legend make. Louise Levier was the gold
medallist, and soon history would be rewritten. Savage
took her world title by a hair's breadth. She lucked out
once. She wasn't that good.

'Easy, when you have the best coach ever.' She tried to

be British, brisk and impersonal. 'Anyway, I came to it so
late. I've only been skiing for a few years. There are other
things that I can do.'

Hans Wolf made a clear effort and agreed with her.
Elizabeth smiled wryly; for the old man, life off the slopes
was life hardly worth living.

'What will you do? Work for your father?'

'I don't think that's going to work out. He and I have
fallen out. He won't let me do the kind of work I want.'

'I see,' Hans said. He looked at her with a fierce


348

protectiveness. He knows where I'm at, Elizabeth
thought, he knows I don't have a degree or any
experience outside of Dragon.

'There are many options for you. I can speak to the
Swiss Sports Council. Or the FIS, they will be thrilled to
have you market the sport. Not all of Europe reads the
British tabloids,' Hans added, his wrinkled face creasing
in disgust. 'Or Britain - Ronnie knows how bitchy are
the lesser girls, and how hard you work. The British
authorities can find you a place---'

'I don't think so. Thanks, Hans, really, but no.' She
shook her head and Hans watched the hollow shadows
under her eyes, the new gauntness in her face. 'Spend my
life publicising slopes I'll never ski again, writing puff
pieces about Karen's amazing reign as UK champion, or
Jack Taylor's next World Cup?'

'You have not heard, then? Herr Taylor has retired
from the "sport. After this gold. In one year we lose both
our brightest hopes.' Hans bent over and smoothed her
coverlet. 'But what about him, child? I am not so old that I see nothing. You love him, he loves you. He is a rich,
powerful young man, he can look after you.'

'Oh, Hans,' Elizabeth said, stroking his hand. 'It's all
over between Jack and me, it has been for ages. He's got
another girlfriend, Holly Ferrell.'

'The Mdchen who skis like a drill sergeant?' asked
Hans, outraged.

'And anyway, I've had enough of being looked after.
I'm going to take care of myself.'

Wolf looked down at his pupil. Under the misery there
was something he had not seen in her before. A quiet
fury, a cold chip of ice at the heart of her pupils. A

certain foreboding mingled with his pity.

'You have a plan?'

'Something to start with,' Elizabeth said softly. 'Get on
my feet. And get some answers.'


349

There were a lot of empty hours in the hospital bed,
waiting for reflex tests and anodyne clinic food. Enough
time to watch a lot of CNN or read months' worth of Paris Match. Or to brood.

Monica, Charles and Richard all paid dutiful visits.
They weren't malicious like Tony, they just didn't care.
Which made them and her about even. Ronnie and others
asked for appointments but Elizabeth told Jopling to
make medical excuses. She wasn't interested in other
people. She was interested in Tony.

Elizabeth started to eat. She did intensive physiotherapy
four times a day, against the doctor's advice. It was
hateful, having to stand in between two poles, resting her
weight on a foot that wasn't there. After years of i.
instinctive balancing, her body was all out of kilter, every
step felt like she was lurching drunkenly. And her foot. It
was solid, plastic. She hated it. She thanked God she
couldn't see her stump under the metal casings but she
had nightmares about it, a hideous mass of red, nubby
tissue at the end of her leg. Even though she was the same
from the calves upwards, Elizabeth felt ugly, like her
beauty had fled along with her hopes. But the cruellest
dreams of all were pretty: soaring down the Hahnenkamm,
slicing through the mogul fields in Saas Grund,
running barefoot over the clifftops at Caerhaven Castle.
All the things she would never do again. Her body was
changing too: from lean strength to slim, softer and
weaker. It was the fashion model look and she hated it,
she felt like a coathanger. But through all the pain and
frustration, and the nightmares, Elizabeth never wavered.
She ordered a new wardrobe and stuck it on Tony's
account; clothes in smaller sizes and specially made boots
and shoes.

She wanted answers. And she wasn't going to find
them behind the walls of the clinic.


350 i

Jopling peered over the top of his wire-rimmed spectacles
at the young woman sitting in front of his desk.
Elizabeth's hair was washed and styled, newly dyed to a
radiant blonde. She was made up in attractive shades of
peach and gold, wearing a long Prada dress in moss
green, a fitted jacket and chocolate leather boots. From
the patient he knew in white hospital wraps to this
sophisticated young lady was some transformation.

He didn't want to discharge her - the rehab period had
been chopped in two by her exhausting schedule, but her
ladyship resisted any attempts to slow down. Now she
wanted out, and Jopling knew he was going to concur.
Elizabeth Savage had arrived here a broken young girl
and she was leaving a hardened woman. She had clearly
done some fast growing up.

'Lady Elizabeth, you should really stay.'

'No, Er Jopling, I should really leave. There are things
I have to do.'

'Very well,' Jopling said thinly, scribbling her discharge
papers. 'We'll send the account to Lord Caer
haven, if you could just sign here.'

Elizabeth initialled the bill and shook his hand.
'You do that, Doctor. Thank you. Goodbye.'

Well, she doesn't waste any time, Jopling thought as he
watched the valet load her cases into the car. There was
something about Elizabeth's attitude that made him very
nervous.
Oh well; like father, like daughter.


Elizabeth had Mrs Perkins book her" on a flight under a
false name. Enduring the gushing sympathy of Tony's
lapdog was worth it, if it meant she could get away in
peace. The last thing she needed was paparazzi at
Heathrow.

First-class was comfortably empty. Elizabeth took a
glass of champagne, her first drink since that schnapps on

the Gotschnawang. She took notice of the pleasant food
served on real china, the luxurious seats and individual
videos. It might be the last time she travelled this way.
Since she was being compliant, Tony would send a limo
to drive her up to the castle.

'I've thought about what you said, and I've decided to
quit the company.'

'I'm glad, darling, I think that's probably best,' the
clipped voice replied without warmth.

'Since the accident, I don't feel the same about things
any more. If you'll give me an allowance, I can talk to
Monica about finding something to do.'

'Fine. We can discuss it further when you get back.'
, Tony rang off.
Elizabeth felt her dull anger sharpen into a kind of
strength. It was a vicious motivation, revenge. But very
effective.


She made it through Heathrow in shades and a Burberry
rincoat, so nobody recognised her except a respectful
customs officer. He said he was sorry, and welcome to
England. Elizabeth smiled bleakly. She got more goodwill
from a total stranger than her own family.

It was raining lightly as the limo purred up the M4,
water spattering over the glass so the traffic slipped by in
a soundless blur. Elizabeth switched on the radio for
privacy so she wouldn't have to chat to the driver. She
had a stiff pad and a pen and immediately started making
notes, letting the formless suspicions in her mind swirl
into some kind of definite shape.

The Radio One news was all fresh to her. British
troops had landed at San Carlos in the Falklands,
preparations were stepping up for the Pope's visit, and
the pound note was going to be replaced by a coin. It was
another world, she had to adjust to it. Her reflection


35z

stared back at her from the glass, thin, blonde, fashionably
lanky. She looked like a different person, and she felt
like one too.

By the time they pulled in to the narrow country road
twisting through gnarled hillside woods that led to
Caerhaven, Elizabeth had an idea.

'Darling!' Monica kissed her. 'You look wonderful, so
glad you're better after such a shock. And the hair, well,
it's very dramatic ...'

You hate it, you think it looks too good, you cow,
Elizabeth thought. She smiled back. 'It's nice to be home.'

'Jenkins will unpack your bags, and there's a wonderful
salmon mousse crying out to be polished off.'

'I don't feel that hungry, really,' Elizabeth murmured,
petting Dolphin who was bounding all over her. 'I think
I'll just have a bath, change, make a few phone calls.'

'Of course,' Monica said with perfect disinterest. 'Do
whatever you want.'


In her room Elizabeth stripped and grabbed a warm
sweater, her cowboy boots and some Levi 501s. They
were hanging off her, but she fixed thatwith a thick
buckled belt. Then she brushed her hair loose and picked
up the phone. Joe Sharp, her old village boyfriend, had a
brother who worked on the Bangor Courier. She hoped

he hadn't moved.

'Hello?'

She felt a silly relief. 'Joe, it's Liz Savage.'

There was a stunned pause, then he laughed. His voice
was a lot deeper, but it was definitely the same old Joe,
redder than Stalin and a staunch Plaid Cymru man. She'd
swear blind that Joe would still help her out.

'Christ! I haven't heard from you in years. Shwd mae
pethau?'

'It's going OK, iechyd da, but could we stick to
English? My Welsh is sort of rusty.'


353

'Peidiwch troi i'r Saesneg ... OK, OK, if you must.

Not that your sort were ever really Welsh anyway.' The
teasing changed to concern. She could just see his beat-up
face on the other end as he gingerly approached the
subject. 'Liz, I'm really sorry, I heard--'

'Thanks, but I'll be fine. Things happen for a reason.'

That sounded unconvincing even to her. 'The stuff in the
papers was all bollocks, but never mind about that now, I

need a favour from Aled, as soon as possible.'

'Anything for you, cariad.'

'I want to check some old press cuttings. They've got

that database up in the Courier, I need it to check

something out. Family history.'

'That'll be no problem,' Joe said. 'I was going into

town to meet a few mates. I could give you a lift if you

like.'

'Now?' Elizabeth said, a bit startled. She checked her

watch; it was still only three p.m. 'Sure, why not?

Thanks, Joe, I really appreciate it.'

'Then I'll pick you up outside the front porch in ten

mihutes. Tell her noble ladyship not to set the dogs on

the peasant boy.'


Elizabeth slipped out to find a black Mini Metro and a
grown-up Joe Sharp. He was twenty-nine now, bigger
and thicker, and the caterpillar fluff on his chin had
turned into thick stubble. He was ugly as hell but very
coarse and masculine. She could see why she'd been
attracted to him as a teenage convent girl.

Joe whistled as she climbed in the front seat. 'You've
dyed your hair, you look great.'

'How do you know that?' Elizabeth belted herself and
turned round anxiously to see if Monica was watching
them, but there was no sign of her.

'Come on, girl, you're all over the papers. I won fifty
quid when you took the World Cup,' Joe said amiably,


354

shifting fluidly into gear and speeding off down the gravel
drive. 'First use a Caerhaven's ever been to anyone. God,
will you look at this place.' They were passing the
croquet lawn now and turning right past the orchards. A
few horses were grazing in rolling meadows punctuated
with landscaped oaks. 'Come the revolution--'

'I'll be first against the wall, yes, I know.' Elizabeth
found she was grinning openly for the first time since the
accident. 'Bloody Sharp the Mouth, I see nothing's
changed.'


Bangor was relentlessly gloomy as ever, though by some
oversight it wasn't raining. Elizabeth twisted around in
the car. She always felt excited when they drove here. It
was a relic from the time when Bangor was 'town', with
real pubs and the Cannon cinema and Boots and W. H.
Smith's. o

'The Courier's just down there. Aled knows you're
coming in. I'm having a few jars with the lads, so come to
the Royal Oak when you're ready.'

Elizabeth thanked him and climbed carefully out. A
few people stared at her, then looked away again. The
hair's confusing them, Elizabeth thought, and anyway, I
won't be famous for long. She made it into the functional
slab of grey concrete that was the local rag's office, home
of the front-page lead on planning permission scandals,
NUM fundraisers and village ftes, and Aled Sharp came
and met her at the front desk.

'My station's over here if you want to have a go,' he
said, leading her to a beat-up IBM" behind a plywood
screen. He was blond and thinner than Joe, and he also
seemed nervous. 'Just tap in the reference you want, press

this, and then this to print it, er, Lady Elizabeth--'
'Elizabeth. Please. You're a lifesaver, Aled.'

'Well.' He smiled shyly. 'It's not strictly allowed, but
seeing as how it's you ...'


355

'I just need half an hour,' Elizabeth said, then she had
an idea. 'Look, tell your boss you did me a trade. Time
on the clippings service, in exchange for an exclusive. I'll
give you a great interview, really gory, I haven't talked to
any national press. He can license it to the Sun.'

'Would you do that?' Aled's face pinkened with
excitement. 'Oh, brilliant, terrific. I'll go and tell the
editor.'

Elizabeth watched him go. Poor-kid, it was probably
the closest to a scoop he'd ever come. Quickly she entered
into the database.

SEARCH PARAMETERS:

She tapped in EARL OF CAERHAVEN, and LOUISE'

COUNTESS OF CAERHAVEN, i956-6o

CROSS REFERENCE:

LADY ELIZABETH SAVAGE

She thought a moment, then added one more name.
JAY DEFRIES


It took a little while for the computer to scroll and select.
EliZabeth read it over. Double-checked to be sure. Then
with a calm she didn't feel, she sent it all to the printer.

'He wants me to come over and interview you
tomorrow,' Aled Sharp told her eagerly when he came
back. He pointed to the wad of paper she was holding.
'Find anything interesting?'

'Yes, I did.' Elizabeth stood up to leave. 'I found the
answer.'

'Oh yeah?' Aled ushered her out, smiling like he'd just
won the pools. 'The answer to what?'

'The answer to everything,' Elizabeth said.

356


Chapter 3 7


Nina sat alone in her office.

London in April was a beautiful place to be. The
scabby cherry trees that lined the street had burst into
glorious froths of white and pink. It was sunny enough to
set the cabbies whistling and bring out the ice-cream
vans. Advances in the Falklands had united everyone here
in a sort of friendly patriotism; dirty windows in the
houses round about were covered with bright Union

Jacks. Nothing like war to help you forget the recession.
It was not something Nina could forget.

She was only just realising how cocooned she'd been at
Dragon. In a huge drugs company, the recession was just
an idea. Boom or bust, people always got sick. Hospitals
bought their drugs, institutions bought their shares, and
the Robber Baron was cash rich. No wonder he'd been
on such a shopping spree. Retail chemists and others
were closing down everywhere. For bottom-fishers like
Tony Savage, trawling for cheap market share, x98z was
paradise.
For everybody else, it was a nightmare.

Nina's premises were located on Wardour Street. Rent
was high in Soho, but that was how it had to be. She had
a tiny space in a good location. The office was two
rooms, and it had come with peeling walls and filthy
windows. Nina had rolled up her sleeves and repainted
herself in a soothing apple green, then scrubbed the
windows until everything gleamed. The front door was

stencilled: 'ROTH CONSULTING',


357

Roth Consulting. It sounded so grand. Six weeks ago
when Nina registered at Companies House her head had
been full of dreams of glory. She was going to start a biotech
consultancy. Management consulting was the hot
new business sector, and who knew more about European markets than her? Just a few contracts would let her
hire staff ...

Nina realised certain doors were shut to her. The big
companies wouldn't need her help, and word had gone
round from Tony. It was the little fish she'd set her sights
on: outfits with one product, or a single office in
another country. Firms that Tony would never consider.
Minnows.

Great theory. But lousy reality. The little firms she
'approached were too strapped for cash even to think
about consultants. To them, it was a luxury. Meanwhile,
the rent on the office, its equipment and her flat were
eating up Nina's savings at a rate of knots. As she sat
here looking out at the cherry blossom, tapping a pencil
on her empty in-tray, Nina knew she was in big trouble.
Sh needed a contract. And fast.


'Son ?'

Jack tugged on the reins and turned round, his Arab

stallion half-rearing in annoyance.

'You ain't been listening to a single word,' John Taylor

said wearily. He pricked his mount forwards, breathing
hard. Jack had ridden him right off the course today,
flying over the ranch fields like he was riding for his life.
Whatever Europe had done, it hadn't softened him.

Back to the States with a gold medal. Him and

LouAnne had been right out there to see it. Watching
their little boy stand up on. that podium, taller and
stronger than a Greek god, with the Stars and Stripes
behind him, his hand on his heart as they played 'The
Star-spangled Banner' - it was the proudest moment of


358

their lives. The TV people and the papers made such a
fuss, you'd fairly think the whole country loved Jack as
much as they did. Even the movie people had come
buzzing round like flies on horseshit, wanting to turn
Jack into a picture. Like Robert Redford in Downhill
Racer, but this time for real.

Jack should have been prouder than a white peacock.
He wasn't. The one time he looked happy was when
they looped that burnished disc around his neck. Saving
that, he was moody and restless. Had the family lawyers
serve injunctions on the Hollywood boys. Gave no
interviews. Nothing like their Jack, the arrogant glory
junkie. And he was moody back home; no interest in
anything, even the ladies. The Dallas babes were queuing
up for it. John had grinned a quiet male smile when he
saw the bunch of females pressin' round his boy everywhere
h went like they were in heat. When he was here a
couple years back, Jack woulda bought a few rubbers
and taken 'em on one at a time in a line-up, but he was
real strange about it now. LouAnne had insisted he date
Clarisse again - now that little lady was a perfect ten, a
walking Barbie doll with sweet Southern ways. Jack had
taken her out a couple of times. Probably got laid, too.
But he did it by rote, and for Jack, that was acting like a
goddamned monk.

Today their ride around the ranch had ended ten
minutes ago, that was how long it took John to catch up
with their son.

'Sorry, Pop.'

Taylor patted the horse's sweating flank. 'Boy, I don't
need no shrink to tell me something ain't right. You'd

better spit it out. I don't need no zombie round here.'
Jack looked down. 'It's Elizabeth.'

'Elizabeth? Her again? I thought that was all over.
You're upset because she got into that accident? Hell,


359

she'll be OK, her folks have money. You can't help her

none by vexin' yourself, kid.'

'It's over, but I can't stop thinking about it. To come

that close and then ... she'll never ski again.'

'There's worse things than that.'

'She wouldn't see me, you know? Her doctor said no

visitors. I sent flowers, I called, but she never answered.'

'Dealing with it her own way. Now, Jack.' John
dismounted and started to tether his- beast to a post. 'I am mighty sorry for a girl who has something like that
happen, don't get me wrong, but last time you spoke you
were sayin' how you were through with her, what a
stubborn, ornery bitch she was, how you couldn't even
speak but you were gettin' into a fight. It's crazy how

' you're gettin' riled up. There's lots of pretty girls right
here, and y'all know you got work to do.' He waved a
leathery, suntanned hand around the rolling acres. 'The
stud farm, the hotels and the land, it ain't going to
nobody but you. You gotta start taking an interest.'

'Pa.' Jack looked down at him distractedly. 'I have to

go and find her, tell her how sorry I am. In person. It's a

skiing thing.'

'Back to Europe?' He snorted. 'Like hell, it's a skiing

thing. Look, son, go if you have to, bang her again if

that's what you gotta do--'

Jack frowned thunderously. 'Don't talk about her that

way, Pa.'

'Hey.' Now John was mad. 'Y'all have had enough

time for foolin' around. You want to waste thousands of
bucks jettin' over to dry some chick's tears, be my guest.
But then you get your butt back here.' He jabbed a finger
at the stables behind him. "This is your future, Jack.
Texas. Not London. You'd better have that real clear in
your mind.'


The car came crunching down the gravel drive to park in


360

front of the house. Elizabeth sat at her turret window and
watched it come, Tony's sleek Silver Phantom Rolls- Royce gleaming whitely in the warm spring sun. She was
surprised he hadn't fixed a Dragon company flag to the
front. Tony's monster ego suggested that was just a
matter of time.

Now he was actually here, Elizabeth's calm deserted
her. She felt the adrenalin surging through her as she
watched Monica glide out and offer her husband that
reserved, passionless kiss. There was none of the good,
enhancing stress she got before a race, though. This was
different, a sour mixture of anger and fear. But she knew
she was ready; it couldn't be postponed.

Elizabeth picked up her folded set of clippings and
looked at her reflection. She'd chosen an outfit Tony
would hate: black CK jeans and a tight green T-shirt by
Donna Karan. With her ankle boots and steel sports
Oyster, it was aggressive and sexy. That had always
bothered him; now she knew why.

She limped downstairs and walked stiffly across to
Tony where he stood ignoring the ecstatic welcome of the
dogs.

'Elizabeth, darling,' he said, his brow creasing at her
new look. 'It's a bit too dramatic, wouldn't you say?'

'Not really. Look, why don't you step into the library,
and we can have a little talk.'

Tony nodded his head towards Monica, busying
herself in the kitchen. 'I was going to have a spot of tea
first. You can wait?'

'If you like,' Elizabeth nodded with equal reserve, 'but
I think you'd prefer to hear this now.'

He looked her up and down with that cold assessment
that had been so hurtful before, but now just slid off her.

'As you wish.' Tony walked across the uneven flagstones
to the old library door, pushed the studded
wooden door and held it open. Elizabeth walked into hi

36


green baize den with a flash of dj vu. This was where
they'd had their last confrontation, when she was sixteen
years old, over Granny's will. His victory then had been
complete, but that was not going to happen this time.

Tony sat at his desk again, comfortably, and glanced at
her. He looked utterly self-possessed. Elizabeth shut the
door firmly behind her and sat down herself. He thought
she was crushed; her spirit as broken as her leg. At least
she would have the element of surprise.

'You've always hated me, Tony. And now I know
why.'

His Christian name. His eyebrows arched.

'Don't look so surprised.' Elizabeth smoothed out her
list of cuttings and passed them over, seeing Tony's shock
It the old articles. 'I never knew Mother, but I wish I

had. She had you over six ways till Sunday.'
'Nobody had me over.'

'I look so like her, don't I? Nothing of you at all, Lord
Caerhaven. Or of Jay DeFries, for that matter. But my,
how awkward it would have been, for the Robber Baron
we 'know and love.' Her voice was thick with sarcasm.
'Whispers at the Athenaeum. Jokes in Private Eye and the
House. Tabloid fun at your expense. Of course, it simply
wouldn't do, I see that. You had to take in the little
cuckoo.'

'Well.' He did a creditable job of hiding the rage.
'You've become a PI, how inventive. You always were an
unladylike little tramp, just like Louise--'

'A tramp? Because she wouldn't play dumb in the
gilded cage like Monica? I can see just why she'd prefer
Jay, even without money, or a title. I know I would have.'

'You cheap little bastard,' Tony said, with real viciousness.

'Well, that's the difference between us. I know you're a
bastard. You don't know if I am.'

'You're no child of mine, Elizabeth. I have sons.'


36z.

'Lucky you, since we all know just what you think of
females. Having been trampled by one of them.'

'She was a ball-breaking whore,' Tony snarled.

'I've always thought,' Elizabeth said slowly, 'that a
man who could have his balls broken by a woman wasn't
much of a man in the first place.'

'A pity your Mr Taylor didn't agree with you,' Tony
said.

It was a direct hit. Elizabeth flushed, and the earl made
an effort to settle himself. He pushed back into his
armchair and looked at her coolly.

'What do you want? I think I should remind you, you
don't have quite the same cachet you once did. The press
think you're a spoilt, petty little brat. That you threw
away a British medal.'

'I still have the capacity to embarrass you, my dear
papa,' izabeth spat. 'We both know it. So if you still
value your reputation--'

'To an extent. Don't think you have a blank cheque.
I'd rather take my chances than have you back at
Dragon.'

'I'm sure we can come to an arrangement.'

Tony steepled his fingers. He looked at her like she was
something unpleasant he wanted to scrape off the soles of
his handmade brogues. 'Then I repeat, what do you
want?'

Elizabeth smiled. 'Y0u'll like this one, Tony. I want
out. Away from you, away from this freezing old relic,
away from that vacuous bimbo in the kitchen, all your
hypocrisy and high-class whores. I want enough money
to look after myself. In exchange, I will always be Lady
Elizabeth. A million pounds, that should do it. You won't
even notice it.'

He shook his head. 'No guarantee.'

'You have my word.'

'Worthless. I might agree to a trust fund. A million,


363

paid at intervals over the next five years, conditional on
your silence. You sign a contract; if you ever breathe a
word, the money is repayable with punitive interest.'

'Fine with me, old man, but I want something now.
My cases are all packed; I don't want to spend another
night under this roof.'

Tony stood up and drummed his fingers on top of the
grand piano.

'Fifty K and Walgrave Road.' That was a Dragon
house, kept furnished for visiting executives, a beautiful
mews in a villagey, tree-lined street tucked away in Earls
Court. Elizabeth had stayed there once; it was a little
jewel of a house, with a small walled garden out back full
of roses and wisteria. The neighbours were an opera
inger and a Saudi princeling. 'There's a housekeeper
who will let you in, the lawyers will bring papers round
tomorrow. That's the first year. It's worth two hundred
grand easy.'

'Fine,' Elizabeth said. 'Go out and tell your chauffeur
he has a passenger for town?
Tony nodded. 'So, darling, I suppose this is goodbye.'
'I suppose it is, Father,' Elizabeth replied.

'You'll keep that promise or lose everything. You'd
better realise that. I don't know what you think you're
going to do with yourself, but I would strongly advise
you to keep away from me.' He smiled thinly. 'You'll find
out, Elizabeth - once you're outside, you stay there. I
have a lot of enemies, and they all know the score. They
hate me, but they don't mess with me. I don't think
there's a soul in London who's prepared to risk that.'

Elizabeth left the room without replying. At that
moment, she wanted revenge worse than anything else in
the world. She would endure any humiliation to get it.
And Tony's last bit of pomposity had put a name
glowing into her mind.

The woman she'd disliked but respected. A blinkered


364

workaholic with a razor-sharp brain, a vicious bitch,
maybe, but that was what she needed. Someone who had
been close to Tony. Someone who might know a way to
bring him down.

Nina Roth.

365


Chapter 3 8


Harry Namath slowly pulled off. his white coat and

looked over at Lilly.

'What?'

'I said she's left the company.' The older woman tried
to sound casual, but it didn't come off.

Harry frowned as she sat there on their lab sofa, fag in
'one hand, sprawled out against the leather cushions. It
was dark outside, three in the morning. They'd just come
off a gruelling session of proto-lipid tests. Lilly was
injecting her baboons while Harry ran complex computer
models. He'd been seeing endless DNA strands revolve
aga.inst his eyelids, double-helixes in purple and green
spinning into his brain. But the tiredness melted away
when she dropped this little bombshell. It was as bracing
as a cold British shower. Harry sat up again and stared at
Lilly. She looked worse than usual tonight: her skin was
pallid and grey from fatigue, and she was ill tempered too.

'You're over-reacting. She got us the deal, she's gone,
so what? Those corporate bods Will get another suit to
replace her.'

'She's a friend of mine, Lil. Why didn't you tell me?'
'I didn't think she was such a mate of yours.' This was
so obviously a lie that Harry didn't bother replying. Lilly
threw up nicotine-stained hands. 'OK, fine, but you
hadn't been speaking, you hadn't seen her ...'

'We were in France working.' Harry's voice was cold.


366

'You were bummed out about her after that talk you
had with Tony. So I reckoned it was all over.'

Harry pressed a hand to his aching forehead. He could
feel the pincer-like claws of a migraine wrapping themselves
round his skull. 'What would you know about
that?'

Lilly sat up and glared at him. 'Tony talked to me too,
all right? He told me the score. Little tramp. What would
you want to hang out with her for?'

'Hey, bud, my friendships are my business.'

'She was bad for you.'

Harry paused. He couldn't believe what he was
hearing. Lilly sounded really sour. "Bad for me?'

'That's right. I told Tony that too. He said he was
going to can her, and I said good on him.'

'Lilly, you have no right to interfere in my private life.'
'Oh dbn't I?' the dumpy woman said bitterly. 'When
I'm the one who's been your partner for years! When I'm
the one who's doing the work they want! I'm the
biochemist, Harry, they don't want computers. I could
just have taken this whole thing for myself. But I carried
you along with me and what happens, you run off with
some floozy brunette, some career prostitute who slept
her way--'

'That's enough!' Harry shouted, then calmed himself.
'Lilly, we hardly even socialise.'

'We're together enough,' she muttered.

Harry shook his head again. Lilly. She had a brilliant
mind but she was squat, ugl and way too old. Yet
somehow she had managed to delude herself that their
working together was a relationship. She'd never said a
word. Maybe she'd known inside that it wasn't gonna
happen, she didn't want to spoil the dream. He remembered
her disapproving looks at Nina. Harry thought it
was the youth; now he thought it was the beauty. He had


367

shattered her illusion like ice over a dirty puddle, and

now she was sitting here screaming about betrayal.

It was worse because it struck a chord. Lord Caer

haven had reached into his heart and squeezed a burning
fist around it. The words in that laconic English tone
were almost more than he could bear: ugly pictures of
Nina, screwing Tony, on her back for a promotion.
Harry was already halfway in love with her. Making love
to her had been incredible, he couldn't wait to hook up
with her again. That memory had been tainted, corrupted
with acid. Now he knew why she'd been so jumpy back
at Dragon's office. She didn't want anybody to tell the
boss that his mistress had her own bit on the side.

Harry had tried to shove Nina from his mind.

' But he couldn't forget her. He thought about it every

day. How could she? Was she really that cheap?

Harry decided to get an answer. That didn't mean
anything - just curiosity. He wanted to confront Nina.
To say all the things that were burning up his chest.

And now it looked like he wouldn't have the chance.
'When was she fired?' he demanded.

'How would I know?' Lilly asked sullenly. 'A few

weeks back? Who cares?'

Harry turned away from her and started to pace up

and down. He felt almost regretful; he would have been a
millionaire in a few years.

'Sorry, Lil,' he said, 'I quit.'

'Don't be a jerk.'

'Whatever you think we have, we don't. I'm sorry. And
nobody telling me about Nina Roth - I don't like being
played for a schmuck. Or manipulated.'

'If you go,' Lilly said meanly, propping her fat torso up

on her elbows, 'you're breaking contract with me. Your
work on our research becomes my copyright, and you'll
lose all your royalties and points from Dragon. Do you
get that? You'll lose everything.'


368

TII lose this project.' Harry shrugged and reached for
his overcoat.

'You're bluffing! What the hell will you do?'

He turned at the door and gave her a quick, dazzling
smile. 'What I always do, Professor. Land on my feet.'


Elizabeth took the keys from the housekeeper on Tuesday
night and signed the papers Wednesday morning. Tony's
lawyers came by at nine a.m., on the dot. That was no
surprise. She knew he was as eager to be shot of her as
she was to go.

She had got Walgrave Road lock, stock and barrel, so
she spent a morning checking it out. Dragon's corporate
hospitality people were very efficient. There was everything
a fat cat could wish for, from a power-shower to a
study that came complete with IBM, home printer,
copier anal fax machine. There was a Quotron terminal in one corner of the room. Elizabeth checked the share
price: up three points. Tony must be confident he could
never be beaten. The garden was as pretty as she
remembered, the refrigerator, freezer and wine cellar
were fully stocked, and there was a small home gym in
the basement. Elizabeth looked at it dispassionately. She
could only use arm weights and a stationary bike now. If
there was any point.

She arranged to have all the bills transferred to her
name and called Coutts & Co., where a smug functionary
confirmed the deposit of fifty thousand pounds. Then
she went to the Lloyd's round the corner and picked up
an account transfer form. Stuffy pomp and Circumstance
were behind her now.

'We'll handle that for you, miss,' said the teller.
'Name?'

'Lady Elizabeth Savage,' Elizabeth said, and smiled
briefly as he gave her a quick, embarrassed stare.

'Yes, milady, right away.'


369

She wondered idly if that was really her name. Tony
didn't think so. But Tony was wrong about a lot of
things. In the end it didn't matter: Savage or not, she was
out on her own.


Nina flicked through the pages of American Scientist and
tried to pay attention. She knew she should use dead time
to keep learning and improving, but it was no good. She
dropped the glossy on to her desk and looked at her
reflection in the switched-off computer screen.

Yesterday she'd gotten her first break. Peter Meyer,
president of a small bottling plant, had returned her call.
She'd had dealings with him at Dragon. Meyer had been
impressed then and invited her in to head office. His firm
was in trouble: one of their biggest clients was about to
cancel a longstanding order, switching bottling function
to their own firm. He knew Nina was a lateral thinker;
maybe, he said without enthusiasm, she could come up
with something. He'd tried every option he could think of - discounts, increased productivity - but their finance
guts weren't going for it.

Nina hadn't needed asking twice. She had extensive
notes on both Meyer and the client company when she'd
showed up this morning, wearing her most businesslike
charcoal suit and carrying a mobile phone and a
briefcase. In a meeting with Peter and Linda, his
secretary, Nina went over the options.

'In the short term, I can fix this,' she said confidently.

'In the long term, you'll need to diversify.'

'What do you mean?' Peter asked her.

'You can't die of hypothermia every time Tropex
sneezes. They may want to cut costs again. You need
other options.'

'And your firm can supply them?' Peter Meyer asked
sceptically.

'We can indeed,' Nina said, ignoring the secr.etary's


370

sniff. 'If you're not satisfied, you pay nothing more than
expenses.'

'Thank you. I'll think about it,' Meyer said.

She had gone back to the office on a cloud of hope. It
had lasted all of two hours. That was when Linda called
her back and said the board were minded to turn down
the proposal.

'We'll give you a final answer by the end of the day,
but I can't see them changing their minds.'

'I see.' Nina struggled to control her disappointment.
'Thanks for letting me know.'

Now she sat here facing the facts. The Meyer call was
the first bite she'd gotten in weeks, and now the fish had
almost wriggled off the hook. She'd offered him a no
win, no-fee deal and he still wasn't interested. If Peter
Meyer didn't think it was worth the effort, even at zero
cost, Nina-stood no chance. She was going to have to give
up. Pack in the office and take some menial job, entry
level like the ones she'd been offered before. If, indeed,
they were still open. Or maybe she should go back to
America ...

No! Nina thought. No! I can't let him win! She
couldn't, couldn't quit! She jumped up from her chair
and kicked the desk in a rage. There were no options, but
she couldn't accept that. Her mind was dashing against

the brick wall like a bee.trapped by a windowpane--
There was a knock on the door.

Nina stopped dead. Somebody must have got the
wrong address. Or really be looking for the psychic next
door.

The knock came again, louder, impatient.

'Hold on,' Nina called. She walked over to the door
and opened it.

Elizabeth Savage was standing there. She had lost the
golden tan and about a stone, and she looked thinner and
tireder than when Nina last saw her. She was still

371


beautiful, skinny and tall, however, the kind of figure
Melissa Patton and her cheerleader buddies had always
idolised back at St Michael's. The startling blondeness of
her hair framed the sharp cheekbones like a glossy halo.
She was wearing tailored slacks, a close-fitting military
jacket and a pair of heeled boots. Nina couldn't help but
notice the boots, glancing down involuntarily.

'No, you heard right,' Elizabeth said wryly. 'I did lose

a foot.' She banged her left leg on the cracked linoleum.

'Hear that? It's a prosthesis. Plastic.'

Nina opened her mouth to say something but nothing

came out. Attack Savage? She could do that, but not to a
cripple. It was like speaking ill of the dead or something,
although Elizabeth, slim and blonde and designer top to
'toe, didn't look like your average zombie. Offer her
sympathies? No way, that would sound as false as it
would feel.

'Come in,' she said neutrally. 'I guess you had a reason

for coming here, Elizabeth, unless you were in the
neighbourhood and felt like dropping by.'

'You guess right.' Elizabeth walked into Nina's office

and looked round.

'It's not the Stock Exchange,' Nina said defensively.

'It must rent cheap.'

'Well, that was the plan. Did you come here to gloat,
milady? If so, you can just leave the way you came in. Or
is it a message from Tony?' Nina's brown eyes glittered
with distaste. 'Because the answer is no, no, and no.
Whatever it is.'

'Neither one. Can I sit down?' Elizabeth asked,
gesturing to a secondhand black leather chair.

Nina's eyebrows arched. She looked hard at the other

girl. 'I'm busy, but you can have ten minutes.'

'Sure, you look busy,' Elizabeth wanted to say, but bit

it back. 'Nina.' She sat down and brushed the hair out of

her eyes. 'I don't like you, you don't like me. Fine, that's


37z

a given. But you've got something I really need, and vice
versa. I was thinking we could help each other out. On a

purely business basis. A pact of convenience.'

'Go on,' Nina said.

'I have fallen out with my father. It's been brewing for
a while but now it's final. I've left Dragon - I was kicked
out, or as good as. I've moved out of the family home. He
expects me to live off the pocket money I've got in
exchange for that, but I have other ideas. I want to make
money myself and I want revenge.'

Nina laughed. 'You expect me to buy that? Why would
he do that to you? You're family!'

'He hates me,' Elizabeth said intently. 'Look, I can
prove it to you. He took all the Dragon Gold stock off
the market. He incurred millions in losses just to spite
me. I swear it's true.'

'I know.it's true. I saw the memo,' Nina said slowly.
Something about Elizabeth's face was convincing. The
look in her eyes was one Nina recognised. She saw it
every time she looked in the mirror.

'When I came out of recovery, he told me I could only
work in Corporate Hospitality, Events Organisation, or
Promotional Literature.'

Nina snorted. 'Might as well type the letters.'

'I said exactly the same thing. Come on, Nina, you
knew him, you slept with him. He disliked me intensely.

You must have been aware of it.'

'Yes, I was.'

'Then you should believe me. He destroyed my life.'
'He let you ski.'

'Because it suited him. Skiing was the one thing I did he
could approve of- it fitted the great Robber Baron
image. You used to hate me because I went to finishing
school, I had no real education. I wanted to - you have
no idea how much - and I wanted to work, but he
wouldn't let me do either. That way he could control my

373


destiny, can you understand that? No degree, no experience,
I was qualified for nothing. Except winning races.
The marketing skills I always knew I had, I studied in my
spare time, I read Campaign, even those fucking boring
stats you made me learn.'

Nina smiled suddenly, caught off-guard. It was so

funny to hear that cut-glass limey voice say 'fucking'.
'Dragon Gold was mine. I made something of it.'
'You did. It was pretty gutsy, faking Tony's authority
like that. He was so mad when he found out he dropped
everything to fly home.'

TII bet,' Elizabeth said softly. 'You can imagine what

that was like. He did the same thing to you, and you were

his girlfriend.'

'
	'Correction. I slept with him. When I no longer wanted

that to continue ...' Nina shrugged.

'Then help me.'

Nina stood up. 'Look, Elizabeth I don't know what

you think I can do. If I could have hurt him, I wouldn't
have waited for your permission.'

' 'So. You've got the same problems I have. No
credibility,' Elizabeth said shrewdly. 'Once you're out of
Dragon, you're a non-person. And to start anything up,

you need money, you need staff.'

'You got that right.'

'OK' Elizabeth's green eyes narrowed. 'I'm not the
president of your fan club, but I have money and I can
sell this firm. You know I can, because you've seen me

work. We could make something together.'
Nina stared at her. 'You mean that?'
'Every word.'

'Look, Elizabeth.' Nina sighed. 'It sounds good, on
paper, but I can't take your money. There is no business.
I got the first break I've ever had yesterday.' She
explained about Peter Meyer. 'That phone's going to ring
any second to turn me. down, and it'll be the first and last


374

bit of business I ever do. I can't afford to pour rent
money down the drain any more.'

Elizabeth leaned forward urgently. 'Let me call them,'
she said. 'I've got an idea. If you're going to fold anyway,
what could it hurt?'

Nina shrugged. For a polished Sloany princess, she was
certainly persistent.

'OK.' She pushed the phone across the desk. 'I guess
you can give it a try.'

375


Chapter 39


'Come in,' Peter Meyer said expa-nsively, ushering them
both into his office. He smiled briskly at Nina and shook
hands with Elizabeth. 'Nina, you never said Lady
Elizabeth was on board with you.'

Nina nodded quietly. Meyer was grinning and bowing

like a nervous butler. He had agreed to another meeting

' right away, because he was terrified of Tony Savage.

That little deception got Elizabeth through the door,

but she'd need something more to get them any further.

'This won't take long, Mr Meyer,' Elizabeth said. Her
voice was rather cold. 'I called as soon as Nina told me
you were in negotiations. It's just a good-faith visit,
really.'

'Good faith?' Meyer repeated. Under other circumstances,
he knew he'd have been admiring the view across
the desk - one young woman dark and lush, the other
slim and blonde, both gorgeous - but he couldn't manage
it. They were so well dressed, serious and relentlessly
formal. Looks of twenty-five with an attitude of forty
five. It was unsettling.

'Yes. Lolland Jars have also replied to our pitch.'
Nina stiffened. Meyer sat upright and frowned.. Lol
land Jars were his biggest rival; they had narrowly lost
out on the Tropex contract. Now he feared they were
going to have their shot at it.

'They want to get their firm in shape for the future.'
Elizabeth's smile was apologetic. 'Knowing how tough it
is for independents out there. So, we'd be obliged if you


376

could sign the formal "no" from your board and give it
to us, so we'll be legally clear to start dealings with Rob
Lolland.'

'Wait a- second!' Meyer said anxiously. He hated Rob,
the guy ate into his customer base a little further every
month. What had he missed here that Rob had seen?
'You can't work for Lolland if you're in negotiations
with me!'

'I'm sorry.' Elizabeth leaned back, an expression of
confusion on her patrician face. 'I thought you were
turning us down.'

'No, that's not correct. We were just trying to rejig the
budget,' Meyer said hastily.

'I'm afraid we do need a fast decision. Mr Lolland
needs an answer, one way or the other.'

Meyer glanced at Nina's briefcase. 'Do you still have
that contract you brought round before?'

'Of course.' Nina unclipped her case and handed it
across to him.

Elizabeth added, 'If you do want to hire us, we need
expenses payments in advance. Two thousand for the
first month.'

Meyer nodded and scrawled his signature at the
bottom of the page. 'If that's your company account, I'll
transfer the funds across at once. I'm afraid you'll have to
disappoint Mr Lolland. Meyer Bottling got there first.'

Nina and Elizabeth exchanged a quick glance. Nina
took the signed contract, and they shook hands.

'Good to have you with us. I'm.sure with such a
capable deputy you'll make very rapid progress,' Meyer
told Nina with relief.

'Thank you.' Nina smiled back. 'But I should set you
straight. Elizabeth is my partner.'


In the cab on the way back to Soho, Nina looked at


377

Elizabeth with amazement. 'Lolland replied to our pitch?
They turned me down flat!'

So?' Elizabeth grinned. 'That's a reply!'


Nina streamlined Meyer's operations and cut costs, while
Elizabeth provided them with a marketing prospectus for
fresh clients. Tropex retained their account, and Meyer
entered discussions with three more companies. Nina
sent Peter Meyer pitching segments of the market he'd
never even considered.

'How can you possibly know so much? You're so
young!' he said, the night they toasted the Tropex
renewal.

'Dragon teaches you fast,' Elizabeth muttered.

'I've been in this game for over seven years,' Nina said.
Meyer needed no convincing. He paid Roth Consulting,
with a bonus. And he spread the word.

A month later, they had more work than they could
handle.


Elizabeth and Nina found it hard going. They hired a
secretary, a mature woman returning to work. She was
cheap, but ten times more efficient than the gum-chewing
teenagers with uninterrupted experience. Helen Potts
kept them civil to each other: they couldn't snipe in front
of her, although they were respectful of each other's
talents. Elizabeth's effortless confidence and polished
manners worked beautifully with clients, but they still
got under Nina's skin, and Elizabeth hated the draconian
way Nina ran the place: in at eight a.m., out at eight p.m.
Plus, there was mountains of work, with little reward. All
the money they saw went as fast as it came: hiring new
equipment, moving offices to Hammersmith, paying
lawyers and accountants as they set themselves up. Nor
were their fees large. They were undercutting the big
boys, and all their clients were baby firms.


378

However, they were too busy to snipe much. It was
like scraping your way out of prison with a grapefruit
spoon. At night they fell asleep when their heads hit the
pillows.

It was a makeshift alliance, but bills got paid. Jobs got
done.

They were in business.


'Mrs Potts, could you hold the fort for half an hour?'

It was a cold June morning, rain pouring down on
Hammersmith Broadway. Nina could see it splashing on
the red roofs of the buses that crawled past their
windows. Elizabeth was silhouetted against the dull grey
sky, her blonde head bowed over transparencies for a
new brochure. Wellkin Pharmacies was their biggest
client yet, but that wasn't saying much. They had six
shops in the West End, a lot of clutter and no way to
keep up with Boots. Nina was trying to persuade the
chairman to specialise and Elizabeth was dreaming up a
new look. The fee on this job was ten thousand - it

would cover overheads for months.

'Certainly, Miss Roth.'

Elizabeth glanced up. 'Something up?'

'Let's go into your office a second,' Nina said.
Elizabeth followed her into the orderly room she'd had
decorated with framed ads, and settled into a chair. Nina
seemed edgy and tense, and Elizabeth's guard flew up.

'I've got a proposition, but I need your consent for it.'
Tm listening.'

'I think we're in the wrong business.'

'Oh! Is that all? Well, that's reassuring,' Elizabeth said
irritably. 'Is this New York angst? You should leave
Woody Allen on Manhattan, Nina. We have six jobs in
hand and three more waiting.'

'Yes, but what are we getting out of them?'


379

'Money. OK? Are we done with the therapy session
now? Because I'm really busy.'

'Jesus Christ, will you hear me out?' Nina snapped.
'We're not making enough money. We're keeping ourselves
afloat, that's all, and since we can only handle so
much consulting work, that's not going to change. We're
just going to trundle along making a minor profit. We've been so busy we haven't looked at the big picture.'

'Can't see the wood for the trees? You're right, but I
think we're working as hard as we can.'

'It's not about working harder. It's about working
smarter. We need to advise bigger firms, and to do that
we need something more concrete to offer them. Sterling
Health don't need us to teach them how to suck eggs, but
'there's still a lot of wastage in their systems. If we can fix

that, we can command real fees. Hire staff, expand--'
'But we can't fix that. You just said so.'

'Not on our own, no, but what they need is computer
help. I can pinpoint market improvements - did it for
Dragon and Dolan.'

feah, but you never even graduated high school, you
can't write a major computer program. It would take a
genius like Clive Sinclair--'

'I know somebody. I think he'd go for it, but I'd have
to offer him a partnership. Do you agree?'

'Providing our decisions have to be made unanimously,'
Elizabeth said coolly. 'I'm sorry, but I'm not going to
be outvoted by you and a friend.'

'Understood. Though I'm sorry to say he and I aren't
exactly friends,' Nina admitted.

Elizabeth gave her a small smile. 'Hasn't hurt us so
far.'


Nina used Elizabeth to track Harry down. She knew the
numbers for Lilly's French lab like the back of her hand:
she'd fought so hard with Harry over the location.


380

'I'm sorry, Lady Elizabeth, I can't help you.' Dr Hall's
Australian accent was thick and rather sour. 'Henry
Namath walked out of this firm months ago. Don't tell
me Dragon has more business with him.'

'Absolutely not.' Elizabeth played a hunch. 'You sound
as angry with him as I am.'

'You've got a beef with Harry?' Lilly snorted. 'He
means nothing to me.'

'Actually, he owes me money. Quite a lot. I loaned him
twenty grand when he moved to England.'

'Well, that's different. Twenty grand?' Lilly laughed
meanly. 'I have an address here somewhere. Unless he's
fled the country. Thirty-four Fount Street, South London.
Phone number ...'


Nina caught the Tube to Charing Cross and picked up a
cab at th station rank. She wanted to turn up looking
successful. That would convince Harry to listen to her.
She told herself she had to be strong, very dry and
businesslike. It would do no good pleading with him to
give her a second chance. Tony told him the truth and he
was disgusted; that's why he didn't call or write when she
was fired. She hadn't seen him since that Chinese dinner.

I was right the first time, Nina thought. I should never
have let another man into my heart.

She was getting stronger all the time. She never let
Elizabeth see she was unhappy, and she'd die before
Harry got a chance to realise it.

For this meeting she had dressed with incredible care.
Her raven-black hair was spritzed into neat submission
with a burst of Elnett, she wore a dark green Jil Sander
pantsuit, crisp and attractive, with Stphane Kelian
pumps and camel leather gloves. Simple gold studs in the
ears, soft make-up, Mac colours and Shu Umera brushes.
Nina wasn't going to hide away from him. She refused to


38x

apologise for being attractive. Dr Namath could take her
or leave her.

The taxi pulled up outside his house. It was a quiet
street near the Oval, a pretty mews house with a cherry
tree in the front yard. She could see a light burning in the
upstairs window. He was there.

She felt almost light headed with nerves as she paid the
driver and walked up the steps.

Nina rang the bell. She was afraid she might run away,
so she rang it three times, pressing really hard. The faint
sounds of the Rolling Stones clicked off from upstairs
and she heard him racing down the stairs. The door
wrenched open.

'All right, all right, Jesus fucking Christ, what's the--'

Harry jumped out of his skin. He did a double take,
then a triple take.

Nina tried to keep her impassive look but her control
was deserting her like water sloughing off Vaseline.
Harry was so surprised he hadn't said a word. It
suddenly occurred to her he might just slam the door in
her face.

'I do have a telephone,' he said slowly.

'I thought you might just hang up on me. I've got a
proposal for you, Harry,' Nina said.

'Well.' Namath scratched his head and gave her a
strange look. He was so attractive, he took her breath
away. He was wearing a T-shirt, and it was plastered to
him, sticking to his lean torso. His legs were covered in a
black pair of workout shorts, black socks and beat-up
sneakers. His chin was peppered with two days' stubble.
His face was glowing; he'd clearly just been working out.
Erotic images flashed uninvited into her mind: Harry
doing push-ups, Harry laying into a puncbbag. She felt
the sudden pulse of lust all through her body. Like a
hunger you didn't know you had until you smelt food.

'You're making quite a habit of it.' He lifted his T

38z


shirt. 'I'm as unprepared as the first time. You can come
in, but you'll have to wait while I have a shower.'

Nina went dry mouthed. She said, 'Fine, thanks.'
Namath stood back to let her in. His London house
was an extension of the Swiss place, furnished minimally,
with hardwood floors and exercise equipment stacked in
a corner - a bench, heavy-looking dumbbells. Only a set
of shelves on one wall, stacked with computer texts,
spoilt the seamless line. It was a small slice of TriBeCa in
South London.

'Kitchen's right through there. Coffee's freshly made,'
Namath said. He bounded back up the stairs two at a
time.

Nina went into the kitchen and fixed herself a coffee. It
was so American, so recognisable it hit her in the gut.
Coffee beans from Gloria Jeans, wafting cinnamon
amaretto.all round the kitchen. An empty Haagen-Daaz
pot by the bin. Where did he get this stuff? She tried to
take her time with the coffee, noisily opening cupboards
and choosing a mug and switching off the machine.
Trying to take her mind off the faint hiss of water coming
from upstairs, trying not to think of him, standing there,
with the water sluicing him down, pushing the soap
across his armpits and his back ...

She set the coffee down and leaned against the side,
light with longing. It was bittersweet: he was so sexy and
so close, and she had lost him. Did he have a girlfriend?
He must have, by now. The thought made her wretchedly
jealous, more pictures drifting, through her mind like
toxic gas. She felt physically nauseated. And sick with
desire.

Thank God I'm not a man, Nina thought. It would be
so obvious.

'So.' Harry's voice jerked her out of it. He was
wrapped in a voluminous navy bathrobe and rubbing his
hair with a towel. 'What's the story?'

383


'You broke the partnership with Lilly. Why did you do
that?'

Harry reached over to the coffee pot and poured
himself a mug, took a sip and gave her a cold glance.
'That's really none of your business. I guess you must
have got this address out of Lilly. Don't ask her any more
questions about me, Nina.'

She flushed. 'You're right. I apologise, I just needed to

see you.'

'Why?'

'I want to suggest something to you.'

'Oh?' Harry dropped the towel on the floor and leaned
back against the oven. He watched her neutrally, like he
was trying to read her. 'Business or pleasure?'

, If I said pleasure, would he kick me out of the house?
Nina wondered miserably. Then she shoved that thought
aside. She was offering Harry something she knew he'd
be into, but she had to pitch it right. She squared her
shoulders and looked him right in the face.

'Business. Strictly business. And believe me, Harry, this

i perfect for you.'

384


Chapter 40


'There is a train strike. Please make alternative transport
arrangements. Contact your local tourist information
office.'

Jack grinned at the announcements crackling out of the
Underground tannoy at Heathrow. Welcome back to
Britain. Life sure was a lot easier in this country when
you had money. He bought a paper, jumped in a cab and
gave the guy directions to the Regency Hotel in Maryle
bone. The-Times was the usual mix of optimism and
outrage: victory in the Falklands, birth of Prince William,
an IRA attack in Hyde Park. The photos showed
Household Cavalry horses with their necks ripped from
their torsoes. Sickening. Italy had just won the World
Cup. They took soccer real seriously here: the sports
pages were full of dissections. The US had come last in its
qualifying group. What the hell, soccer was a limey game
anyway. Jack flicked to the business pages.

He wondered how Elizabeth was doing. What Elizabeth
was doing. When he'd called Dragon it was like
butting into a wall. No, sir, they had no information,
Lady Elizabeth had left; no, sir, Lord Caerhaven wasn't
available; no, sir, under no circumstances could they
release her address. Perplexed, Jack rang the castle.
Monica Caerhaven had been vague but jumpy; she
muttered something about Earls Court, excused herself,
and put the phone down. Something was definitely up.

The British Ski Federation gave him her address
with no trouble. Ronnie Davis, reduced to coaching

385

third-raters like Karen and Kate, almost fell over himself

in his eagerness to help.

'She's running some computer firm. Consultants ...
they just changed the name. I got a number here, if you
can ever get through. I keep trying to get her to come and
coach, maybe do something with the youth programme,
but she's way too busy.' Ronnie sighed. 'Gawd, I wish
she would, great to have her teaching the kids.'

'You can't teach what Elizabeth had, Ronnie.'

'Bloody hell, mate, you got that right.'

In his room Jack unpacked, dropped to the floor and

did fifty stomach crunches to shake off the lazy feeling
he'd gotten from the flight. Then he dialled the number
that Ronnie had given him. The company was out in

' Hammersmith, West London.

It was called Tall Poppies.


'Just one second, Mr Taylor,' Mrs Potts said brightly. She
waved at Elizabeth, crossing to her office with an armful
of ad layouts. 'Personal call for you on line two. It's a Mr
ack Taylor.'

Elizabeth froze. Then she said, 'Yeah, right, put it
through.'

She put the layouts down on a nearby desk and shut
her door behind her. The red light on line two was
blinking silently at her. She felt herself break out in a
sweat, a light dew of fear. Jack. He could still hurt her,
and badly. What was he going .to say? An invitation to a
wedding? His wedding? The picture she saw in Vanity
Fair last month had pierced her like an arrow. Jack,
impossibly gorgeous in a tux, with Clarisse Devlin on his
arm. Clarisse, his longtime girlfriend, revealed in the flesh
to be just the daintiest, creamiest little piece of Texas
honey you could possibly imagine, and Daddy probably
owned two oil-wells with it. 'Olympic and World
Champion Jack Taylor with Miss Clarisse Devlin at the


386

opening of the San Francisco Opera House.' She was sure
Clarisse would never argue with .Jack or talk back to him.
She would be gracious and submissive and all the things
Elizabeth could never be. And would never be. No matter
what.

I've got no choice, I've got to talk to him, Elizabeth

thought. She steeled herself and picked up the phone.
'.jack! This is a surprise.'

'God, girl, are you ever hard to track down.'

'You could have tracked me down in the clinic,'
Elizabeth said angrily, then kicked herself. Great, where
did that come from? She could control her end of a
booming business operation but she still hadn't got a handle on her runaway mouth.

There was a pause. Then he said, 'I've got to see you.'
'I'm really busy, .jack,' Elizabeth said negatively.
Talking to him was one thing; she didn't know if she
could handle a visit.

'Elizabeth Savage, I flew in from Dallas just to see you. I fought like a bobcat with Pa to let me go'

'Well, I'm sorry about that, .jack, but I never asked--'
'Elizabeth.' His exasperation as he cut her off was just
like old times. 'I am here and I am going to see you, if it
means campin' outside your door on the sidewalk. Now
do I come over there and punch out your security guards
or are you going to be a lady about this?'

'Be a lady about it?' Elizabeth chuckled despite herself.
'.jack, you don't know how to take no for an answer, do
you?'

'No, ma'am, guilty as charged.'

'Come to my house. Twenty-four Walgrave Road in
Earls Court. I'll be there in forty minutes, but I warn you,
I can only give you a little time.'

.Jack smiled to himself as he hung up.

'We'll see about that, sugar,' he said.

387


He found the place without any trouble. It was a cute
little house, tucked away in a tiny corner of village
hidden in the heart of the city. Reminded him of their
townhouse in Greenwich Village, New York, that Mom
used for her shopping base. It struck him that he'd never
been to any place of Elizabeth's before. They'd always
met up on the circuit, in hotels or gyms. Apart from that
one time in Sussex. That suddenly seemed so wrong and
wasteful. Jack shook his head, smiling confidently. No
more. Now he was going to rewrite the book.

He bounded up the small stone steps and hit the bell.

'Hey,' Elizabeth said. 'Did it insult your mother, or
something?'

'And good morning to you too, sweetheart,' Jack
replied.

She looked different. Real different. The athletic frame

was gone, slimmed off her. No problem, she was
beautiful either way. The competitive fire had also
disappeared, but Elizabeth still looked tough and
fpcused. He wondered what the new place was, Tall
Poppies, that had given her a look like that. For
Elizabeth, he'd have said you couldn't get it outside of a
race piste. She was wearing a tailored pantsuit in dusty
pink, cream leather boots, an ivory shirt and a gold
bangle. Her hair was coloured a dazzling blonde, layered
all round her face in a feathery cut. She blew Clarisse
Devlin and all the simpering Dallas debs right out of the
water.

'Come in,' Elizabeth said.

Jack stepped inside the house. It was Sparsely but
elegantly furnished, a few old oil paintings on the walls,
rows of leatherbound books, the normal richolimey
clutter.

'Very nice. Your pop give you some spares?'

'I bought everything you see,' Elizabeth said flatly.

388


'Tony and I have split for good. The house was part of
the settlement.'

Jack walked over to a far wall and examined a small
pastoral. 'Looks Pre-Raphaelite. What is it, Burne
Jones?'

'Very good. I've started collecting.'

'Without the earl's help? Come on, Elizabeth, where
would you get that kind of money?'

Jack settled himself in a deceptively plain leather
armchair and found he was sinking into perfect posture.
It must be orthopaedic. Eames, most likely. He took
another look around the room, paying greater attention.
Sure the d6cor was sparse, but everything here was top
quality, costly stuff.

'I can't believe you, Jack.' Elizabeth sat opposite him
and allowed herself to sound annoyed. That was simple,
so much easier than actually confronting what she was
feeling right now, a sort of dizzy joy combined with sick
apprehension, the way she was desperate for him not to
leave, how she was telling herself to get a grip and failing
so miserably. 'You come over here, you drag me out of
work, and all you can ask is how I pay for my
decorating?'

'So you think I should ask you about your leg?'
'Shouldn't you?' Elizabeth demanded. He was totally
wrongfooting her. She'd expected belated tears and hand
wringing, and here he was, joking and squabbling with
her like nothing had happened.

'Honey, there's nothing to say: You know how sorry I

am. I know how it would feel.'

'Oh, you do?'

'Yes,' Jack said gently. 'Of all the people in the world, I
do know what it would mean not to ski again. What it
must mean to you.'

Elizabeth looked away before she started to cry. That
was perfectly true. Only Jack, and maybe Hans, could

389


have any idea. She swallowed hard to push down the dry
lump in her throat.

'Think what it means to me, babe. You can't ski, so I
can't collect on my bet. That would have been real
intriguing. We'd both have got the goldsb'

'You think I'd have won?' Elizabeth blurted out, then
kicked herself. That was not the next thing she was
planning on saying.

'There was never any doubt,' Jack replied. 'I wouldn't
have let you bet me otherwise. When you had to come to
my room and pay up, it had to have been at least a little
interesting.'

Elizabeth pushed herself to her feet and rounded on
him. 'For God's sake, Jack! I'm a fucking cripple and all
you can do is fly over here to make sex jokes! Where were
you when I needed a friend? Out partying with Holly
Ferrell and all your stupid American groupies--'

'Hey. Hey.' He jumped up and grabbed her hands.
'You know I tried to visit. I begged to. Your father told
me to get lost. And I never partied from first to last. Got
,the medal, flew home and tried to forget all about you.'
'And you couldn't?'

'I'm here, ain't I? And you're no cripple, girl, you're
standing up like Lady Liberty.'

'But I've lost my foot,' Elizabeth muttered. 'I've got a
plastic foot.'
'So what? It was never your foot I was interested in.'
'But what about Holly Ferrell? And Clarisse Devlin?'
Jack's hands had left hers and were cupping her face
now, one finger delicately tracing the line of her jaw and
her cheekbones. His touch on her skin was like an electric
charge. Her stomach was melting into a liquid, shifting
pool, she wanted him so badly.

'Y'all want the truth, or the PG version? PG, I never
touched them, I sat in my room and pined like a dog.
Truth is, I saw them both for a little while and I slept


39o

with them. I was mad at you, and you weren't there. It
was OK. And then,' Jack added with a disarming grin, 'I
sat in my room and pined like a dog.'

'Jack ... it won't work, it never does.'

'It won't work? Baby, you know we ain't ever tried it.'
'What about Sussex?'

'Not bad for a warm-up,' Jack said, reaching up to the
ivory silk at her neck and undoing one of the buttons.
Elizabeth knew this was her cue to push him off but she
didn't. It was weird, like one of those running-in-treacle
nightmares when you couldn't move. Except it didn't feel
too much like a nightmare.

'But that's not a relationship, Jack ...'

'Yeah?' He breathed it, bending down to kiss her, just
brushing her lips. 'That's just fine with me, sugar. I don't
want a relationship.' Jack's tanned face was tight with
scorn as he pulled her to him, one arm cradling the small
of her back, supporting her whole weight like she was
made of straw. 'I got a relationship with my cousin Sarah
in Fort Worth. I want you. In case you're too blind
mulish to notice. This makes twice I've flown round the

world for you, and I'm not doing it again.'

'Jack--'

'Jack, Jack.' He kissed her again, briefly and impatiently.
'Is that all you want to say? Objections? Reasons
we both should be somewhere else, right now? If you
don't want me, Elizabetl4, you just say so. Look me right
in the eyes and say go.'

He tipped her face up to his. His eyes locked on hers
were probing, intense. Elizabeth didn't say a word.

Jack pulled her closer still. Close enough to feel him
hard up against her groin.

'That's what I thought,' he said.


It was wonderful. Elizabeth's fears and nerves couldn't
withstand the hot longing for him that was racing.


39

through her. She let Jack undress her, because he wanted
to and because she was trembling so much her fingers
were all fumbling. When he peeled off her shirt and the
filmy scrap of nothing over her breasts she was anxious,
because she'd always been small and now she was flat,
but Jack breathed in sharply at the sight of her, brushing
his fingers over the pale-pink buds, then bending to suck
them, until she was almost crying from pleasure. The
feelings in her breasts distracted her from the way he was
unzipping her boots and trousers, and then she was
naked, and Jack took her left ankle in his hands,
curiously, muttered, 'Poor baby,' kissed the flesh where
her calf met the metal band, and moved right back up her
leg, slowly, deliberately, kissing and biting the skin at the
back of the knee, trailing his tongue up a little way and
then stopping, his strong hands locking her in place;
Elizabeth gasped at how he made her feel, she was
squirming around under him, losing her control, it was
all she could do not to moan out loud. Jack kicked off his
shoes, tore off his shirt. Elizabeth heard the buttons thud

on the carpet as he unzipped his fly.

'Your shirt--'

'Fuck my shirt." He was naked now, leaning over her,
his hands all over her, his fingers palming the slickness
between her legs. It was broad daylight, pale sun
streaming through her window, letting her see every inch
of him: just like her fantasies, huge chiselled muscles, his
arms were thicker than her th!ghs; not narcissistic like a
bodybuilder, but about as big as you could be and still
look like a normal man. Elizabeth knew girls that hated
that look, said it was too big and too macho, and it was
true, under him she felt as fragile as a reed; but it was
painfully erotic, and she felt heat blaze through her like a
forest fire. Something female and primal responded to
that physical strength, that total masculinity.

'You're so beautiful,' Jack said. She saw him register


39z

the hunger in her eyes. He smiled, but there was nothing
of humour about it. It was pure sex, that smile; pure
triumphant sex. 'You like?'

'You're huge,' Elizabeth said.

'And you like that.' Jack straddled her. He was like a
Greek sculpture of Hercules. He lifted one knee and
firmly, slowly, pushed her thighs apart. Elizabeth heard
the breath wrenching out of her in a sob of desire. Jack
pushed his knee up just a little, pressing into her, pushing
against the wetness there, looking her right in the eyes so
she could see he felt it. 'You like-me to be a man. Admit
it.'

'Yes,' Elizabeth managed. 'You know that.'

'You're right, sugar,' Jack said thickly, 'I do know
that--' and suddenly he slid down the bed, cupped his
two hands under the globes of her butt and pulled her up
to his mouth, like she weighed nothing, burying himself
in her. His tongue flicked over her in a light, sweet
rhythm, sexy, relentless, ignoring her when she cried out.
Her fingers twisted in his hair, and her fingernails dug
into his back. Jack drove her forwards, until he felt her
involuntary surrender. Her body melted against him, her
back arched, and right at that second he grabbed her
hands, pinning them back over her head, up against the
bed-rails. She was open and waiting. Jack thrust right
into her, all in a single motion, not gently, giving her
exactly what she wanted thrusting, as deep and as hard
as he could go, automatically now because he couldn't
wait either. Elizabeth rose to meet him and he was still
pinning her there, it made the orgasm stronger. Their
eyes were wild, locked on each other, as the white-hot
scalding spasms broke over Elizabeth and her fierce
clenching and releasing set Jack off, and then they were in
each other's arms, drenched with sweat, fighting for
breath, and kissing.

393


Chapter 4


'I can't believe it,' Jack said.

'Believe it,' Elizabeth answered. She showed him round
the crowded offices packed with people, sixteen different
programmers hunched over their workstations. Tall
Poppies had taken over two floors of the Hammersmith

offices. Downstairs was Elizabeth's own marketing divi'
sion; a fancy name for a team of four people, but they
were all rising stars poached from the big agencies, and
the way things were going she might need to hire some
more. 'Yesterday was the first day off I've had in four
months. We're growing so fast I'm getting altitude
sickness.'

' Jack stared at her. Elizabeth did look frazzled, but she
was happy too. 'We're stretched to the limit, but we're
making a lot of money.'

'And it wasn't working before?'

'Oh, it was working, but in a small way. We fixed that
when Harry came on board. He's a genius programmer.
He creates the software, Nina applies it to the market, I
spread the word.' She tugged at Jack's hand. 'Come over
here, see the boardroom.'

Jack laughed. 'The boardroom? Oh babe, you're
kidding.'

'Good morning, Lady Elizabeth,' said a middle-aged
woman in a smart navy suit.

'Good morning, Mrs Potts. Jack, this is Mrs Potts, our
executive assistant.'

'Good morning to you, ma'am,' Jack said .politely,


394

trying to hide his disbelief. Elizabeth showed him into a
small, well-equipped conference room, with a mahogany
table and four chairs. Then she shut the door behind her
and kissed him triumphantly on the lips.

'I'm not kidding,' she said. 'I'm deadly serious, Jack.
This time it's working. And we're in charge. If it keeps up
this way, I'm going to be a multimillionaire before I'm
thirty years old.'


'Is Elizabeth still busy?' Harry asked, slightly annoyed.
'Is this about your new project?'

'Yeah. I'm done with the conceptual stuff. I need to
know if we can sell it. I only have forty minutes before
the Unilever meeting.'

'You're starting to sound like me,' Nina said, glancing
across the hall. The boardroom door was still closed and
she smilel. 'Elizabeth's got a lot of history with Jack

Taylor. I think you should just let her alone.'

'It's going to mean working late tonight.'

'So what else is new? Success is tough,' Nina replied.
It was true. The addition of Harry had given them
everything Tall Poppies needed. Nina's cold efficiency
was offset by Elizabeth's warm English-rose persuasiveness,
and the addition of the older American scientist
banished any remaining doubts. The small companies
they'd worked with before recommended them highly,
but now they had somet}ing fresh to offer. Computerisation.
What sci-fi writers saw as a sinister force, and
Establishment fuddy-duddies regarded as a passing craze,
was taking over. Namath's maverick code-jockeying now
had a legitimate target. Tall Poppies became IT consultants
to the UK drugs business. They were in demand
right away. Nina made her first, really big score, an
efficiency programme for a division of Procter & Gamble.
After that it was open season.

Nina was straining to go like a Dobermann on a leash."


395

She'd waited for this all her life. When Harry complained
he was being pushed too hard, they hired more programmers,
all the brilliant, unorthodox talents the hiotech
giants wouldn't touch. At Tall Poppies, staff wore
Hawaiian shorts, Beatles T-shirts, anything they liked.
And they kept their own hours, as long as the work got
done. Soon Elizabeth needed marketing help too. They
physically outgrew their surroundings, rented another
floor.

Nina was now speaking to the landlord about a lease

on the whole building, and they hired accountants and
lawyers. Elizabeth arranged interviews in the business
press.

'What do you feel about this overnight success?' the

' FT asked Nina.

'Overnight?' she'd laughed. 'It's taken me years.'

'Never mind my partner,' Elizabeth butted in. 'You

have to speak fluent obsessive to understand her.'

The uptight, besuited journalist tried another tack.
'Female entrepreneurs seem to be the wave of the future -
Rnita Roddick at the Body Shop, Debbie Moore at
Pineapple. Why do you think this is?'

'Well,' Elizabeth said, looking over at Nina, 'we
women have to give ourselves a chance, because nobody
else is going to.'
'And have you girls always been friends?'

Nina shrugged. 'We girls have always hated each
other.'

The hack put his pad down. 'I don't understand.'
'Why not? I'm speaking English,' Nina told him curtly.
'And is that still the case?' asked the stuffy jerk, with a
look that clearly said they were mad, hysterical females,
and how the hell were they making all this money?

'No.' Elizabeth grinned over at her partner. 'We tried

to keep it up, but the truth is, we were just too busy.'

'We understand each other better now,' Nina added.


396

'And the third partner? Dr Namath?'

'I like Harry,' Elizabeth said carefully, 'and our
working relationship is terrific.'

He'd been satisfied with that because he had to be,
Nina reflected. Elizabeth was too smooth to let anything
slip out: how they worked together fine, but Harry and
Nina fought all the time. Pushing. Yelling. Stand-up
fights, blazing arguments the staff could hear through
Harry's office wall, the two Americans jabbering at each
other in a barrage of slang. Elizabeth acted as a bridge
between them, and there was too much work and new
business to have it get in the way. Nina knew it was
mostly her fault, but she couldn't stop.

It was torture, having him there all the time. Watching
him as he crouched over a computer station, his eyes
locked on the scrolling numbers, his face lit up by a
monitor.�Sometimes they worked together late at night.
Nina took care to keep out of his way. Otherwise, the
urge to reach over and ruffle his hair might be too strong.
She couldn't bear the way he looked at her sometimes, a
guarded glance, like he was trying to figure out how he'd
gotten her so wrong.

Every day she hoped he'd turn up and announce a new
girlfriend. Every day she was terrified of it. When she had
to be physically close to him, it was almost too much to
bear.

But Nina couldn't do without Harry. His reputation
grew every week. He was the engine for her revenge on
Tony Savage, and for her and-Elizabeth both, that was
the absolute priority.

Elizabeth had told her what Tony said: 'You have to
cut down the tall poppies.' Every job they landed, every new bill that got paid, was a slap in that bastard's face.
Tony refused to comment on all the good-natured
questions about his daughter's success. When Nina

397


imagined the journalists bugging him, it gave her exquisite
pleasure.

And even better, they were hurting him.

Nina pitched Dragon sometimes, just to be spiteful,
and when they turned her down, she went to their
competitors. Dragon had its own IT people, but they
were hidebound, way behind Tall Poppies. In the UK, on
the Continent, rivals were chipping away at Tony's
market share.

The first day Dragon's stock dipped, Nina opened a
bottle of Cristal. Tall Poppies was still a small business,
but it wouldn't stay that way for long.

'Yeah, success is tough,' Harry said. 'Just like you.'

The?' Nina tried to smile. 'I'm just a marshmallow.
Look, is it really urgent?'

'Damn straight, it's urgent.' Harry ran his hands
distractedly through his hair.

'Then how about I go over it with you?'

'Tonight?'


0
	'Not if you don't want to,' Nina said, blushing.

'No, it's OK. Your place or mine? Or does that sound

too much like a date?'

'Your place is fine. And no, it doesn't sound like a
date,' Nina said with a touch of bitterness. 'Don't worry,
I know better than that.'


'Let's go back to the hotel,' Jack said, kissing her
forehead and eyebrows. 'You're turning me on, sugar, I
swear.' He bent her back, both his arms resting on the
boardroom table. 'There's a desk in the bedroom, I
want to get you butt naked and push you down across it
and--'

'Jack!' Elizabeth pushed him off her. 'Jesus! Is that all
you ever think about?'
He grinned. 'Nope. Sometimes I think about having


398

you go down on me. Or getting you in the tub and
washing you with a little bubblebath ...'

Elizabeth's creamy skin blushed a deep rose. 'Cut it out! This isn't some kind of sex-trip, Jack. This is serious,
this is seriously my business!'

'I know that.' Jack stood upright, letting her wriggle

out of his arms. 'And I'm totally impressed.'

'And surprised.'

He shrugged. 'That too. OK? I admit it. But come on,
baby. You know things are changed now. You don't need
to be worrying, y'all are going to get a whole lot of
money for your share in this thing, and when we're in
Texas you and me can--'

'Wait a second.' Elizabeth held up one hand. 'Back up.
What did you just say?'

Jack shook his head. 'You're right, I'm all messed up.
Going too fast. But I've had years of practice at that.' He
dropped to one knee and took her hand in his. 'Elizabeth,
you know I love you. And you love me, unless you're one

hell of an actress. Will you marry me?'

'Jack ...'

His handsome face clouded slightly. 'Yes or no, sugar.'
'Maybe,' Elizabeth said.

Jack looked at her disbelievingly. Then he scrambled to
his feet, frowning like thunder. 'Maybe? You know, I had
this scene all figured out.' He fished in his pocket and
drew out a blue velvet box, flicked it open. Inside was a
huge solitaire diamond, emerald-cut on a ring of white
gold. 'Real romantic and all. -I have to tell you, girl, maybe wasn't a part of it. Are we still playing games?
Aren't we done with that?'

'Oh, yes.' Elizabeth nodded and blinked back tears.
'We're done with that. Which is why I say maybe. I do

love you, Jack, I always have, and I want to marry you.'
'Then I don't see the problem.'

She waved at the busy offices behind them. 'That's the


399

problem, Jack. Tall Poppies. It's my thing and I'm not
selling up. Not now. We're on the threshold of something
extraordinary ... I've been waiting for this all my life, to
be somebody in my own right. I can't give it up to go
back to ... to Soutbfork and play at being Sue Ellen.'

Jack sat down heavily in one of the carved oak chairs.
'Sweetheart, I don't have a choice here. I'm an only child.
I got hundreds of acres of prime Texas land, two hotels
and a stable full of the best studs west of Arabia. I can't
sell it.'

'You can do whatever you want.'

'You can come and help out with the business back
home. I know how you feel---'

'No,' Elizabeth said. 'No, clearly you don't. Or you
wouldn't ask.'
Jack scowled at her. 'Honey, get real! You're saying

you want me to live over here, like a goddamn househusband?
My business has been in my family for six
generations.'

'And mine has been in mine for one generation.'
Elizabeth blinked back a film of tears. 'Look, thank you
for the offer, truly--'

'No!' Jack shouted. He caught her hand and pressed it

on to his heart. 'You can't say no to me! We were meant

to be together!'

Elizabeth looked at him. He was so beautiful, so
perfect, and she loved him so much. She also knew if she
gave up Tall Poppies to be with. him, she would wind up
resenting him so bitterly that love would turn to hate.

Sorrow clogged her heart so thickly she felt like she

could hardly breathe.

'God,' she said, and one big tear trickled out on to her

cheek before she could get a grip on herself. 'I thought so

tOO.'


Nina left Elizabeth alone for the rest of the day: It was


400

strange, seeing Jack Taylor in the flesh; so tanned and
Texan, he was Marlboro Man in the flesh. She couldn't
imagine him on a pair of skis. Or ever dating a cool
customer like Lady Elizabeth. He was real courteous
when Elizabeth introduced them, said something about
them being fierce enemies and fiercer friends, but Jack
seemed distracted. That way they were matched: Nina
was distracted too.

'Nice to meet you,' she said. 'Elizabeth, can you come
round to Harry's house this evening, any time you can
make it? We need to check out his new product.'

'Sure. Sure.' Elizabeth turned to go. 'I'm not going to
be in this afternoon, is that OK? I'm going to drive Jack
to the airport.'

'Whatever you need,' Nina said.


It was stl light when she got to Harry's, the gold and
pink streaks of the summer evening silhouetted behind
the pretty Georgian houses in his street. London was a
beautiful city, when you thought about it. Nina watched
a pair of pigeons flurry on to Harry's roof, strutting
around cooing to each other. The tree outside his front
door was in full green leaf. She stepped up and rang the
doorbell wearily. How nice it would be, just once, to
have an evening off. She hoped whatever Namath had
dragged her out for wa worth it.

'Hey, come in, come in.' Harry led her into the kitchen
where he liked to work at night: He had a terminal set up
in the far corner, so he could programme and never be
too far from the cookie jar. Tonight he was wearing grey
sweats and sneakers; he looked relaxed and confident.
Nina was wearing the same John Galliano she'd been in
all day. She was frazzled from clients, and her neck hurt
where the phone had been glued to it.

'You look tired.'

'You got it.' Nina rubbed the back of her neck. 'Can

we get to it? I'd like to go over what you're proposing.'

'Something I've been working on,' Harry said. 'Proprietary
software. I'm calling it Home Office.'

'Home Office?' Nina repeated. 'But we do consultancy--'
'And we still will, but this is going to take us to a
whole new level. You won't just sell to big drugs firms,
you'll sell to every small businessman in the country,'
Harry said.

'OK.' Nina knew better than to laugh at Harry when

he got that look on his face. 'Layman's terms, try and tell

me what you've written.'

Over the next couple of hours he explained it to her.
Nina tried to follow; she lost him in the jargon, but the
concept was simple. Home Office was a software program
you could sell in the high street. Disc-drive
computers could access the full thing, smaller Spectrums
and Amigas could run a mini-version on their tape
recorders. It would centralise word processing, spreadsheet
and inventory functions in one programme.

'What are we doing?' Namath asked enthusiastically,
watching his partner with her head bowed and her neck
aching, trying to read his graphics designs. 'We're
reorganising all these giant firms to make them more
efficient. Well, that's something everyone needs. The
florist. The guy with the corner store. Didn't you tell me
once you'd run a deli?'

Nina glanced up at him. That was the first time he'd

ever referred to their time together before. But Harry

didn't look sarcastic; he was just asking a question.

'Sure, South Slope, Brooklyn.'

Harry winced. 'Nasty neighbourhood. You ever have
inventory problems?'

'Every week,' Nina agreed.


4oz

'Well, if you'd had Home Office, it would have done
your inventory in ten minutes max.'

Nina looked at her watch. Quarter of eleven. 'Eliza

beth's not coming, but I know what she's going to say.'
'She's going to turn it down?'

'She's going to love it.' Nina shook her head. 'It's
brilliant, Harry, it's going to lift us to the next level.'

'But we'd need money.' Namath looked at her hopefully.
'To manufacture it, I mean. Unless you think I
should license it?'

'Like hell, we'll do it ourselves,' Nina said firmly. 'That
means a factory, sales force, packaging, the works. That
means capital. And that means bank loans, or going
public.'

'Which do you prefer?'

'A bank loan,' Nina answered. 'If we go public we'll
get takerr over, and we're not ready for that yet.'

'But if we go for a bank loan and it goes wrong, we've

lost this company. My credibility. Everything.'

'That's right. So will it go wrong?'

'Not the code, sister,' Harry said with a grin.
'Then we'll do it,' Nina said.

Namath let out a whoop of joy. Then he came over
and started to massage the back of her aching neck. He
was strong, his fingers were pleasurable, she wanted to
melt into it, just melt against him and let him take all her
pains away.

Roughly Nina pushed him off. 'Cut it out, Harry,' she
snapped.

'Right.' He lifted his hands and spun away from her.
'Business, I forgot. That's all life ever is with you, kid.

Business. Is that it? Don't you want anything else?'
Nina got up to leave. 'It's a great idea, Harry.'
'Don't dodge the goddamn question.'

She turned at the door. 'You know what? You're right,
they're all right. There's nothing but business in my life. 'I

403


really don't see the point, because every time I've tried
something else, I've always got burned.'

'By who?' Harry sounded furious. 'Tony Savage, the
great heartbreaker? Are you going to pine after him for
the rest of your life? Because he burned you?'

'Get this straight,' Nina snarled. 'If there's any burning
between me and Tony, be's the one that's getting fried.
And you can take that to the bank.'

She slammed the door behind her.

404


Chapter 4z


When Nina woke up, it was a bright, cold morning, the
early light crisp with the promise of great heat later on.
For the first time in years, it reminded her of Brooklyn:
summer on the Slope, when she'd woken up early in
order to get a few moments on her own before Pop
dragged himself out of bed to switch on the cable. But
now her sheets were Irish linen, and her window had
William Morris curtains instead of grimy slats. This
morning, felt significant somehow. And then she remembered.
They were going to gamble.

A million things could go wrong. Her instincts, for a
start. Maybe shopkeepers would be technophobes,
maybe the village trader would as soon fly to the moon as
buy a computer program. Tall Poppies was still small. If
they blew several million pounds of financing, they were
history. Like Elizabeth's skiing career.

This was the biggest stake she'd ever risked. For the
first time in her life, she had something precious of her
own to lose.

What the hell. Nina jumped out of bed and into the
shower. She had never second-guessed herself. Make a
decision, then go with it. Win or lose. Move to London,
or sleep with Tony Savage. Start her own firm, or fall in
love with Harry Namath--

Angrily she grabbed a towel from the rail. Bullshit,
Nina thought, I'm not in love with Harry. I just find him
attractive.

She went into the hall and phoned Elizabeth.


405

'Hey, kiddo, you awake?'

'I am now.'

'Come on, it's quarter of seven. No rest for captains of
industry.' Nina teased her partner a little, but she could
hear pain in her voice. Was she missing Jack already?
You had to really know Elizabeth to hear anything under
that well-bred Brit politeness. Elizabeth would have to be
tortured before she complained about anything in public,
still less something so private as an.emotion. 'Get up but
don't get in the car. I'm coming round. We need to have a
meeting, I've got some great news.'

'Marvellous, Elizabeth said, with a total lack of
enthusiasm.


,Nina reached Elizabeth's thirty minutes later. Her house
near Green Park was direct on the Piccadilly Line, and
that meant pushy, grouchy crowds of early-morning
bankers facing another boring day with their caffeine and
migraines, but she didn't care. Turning into Elizabeth's

little tucked-away street she almost ran.

SYou look happy,' Elizabeth said.

'You look terrible,' Nina replied. It was true. Her
partner wore a defiantly pretty amethyst DKNY, and her
blonde hair was gleaming, but she'd obviously been
crying all night.

'I feel terrible,' Elizabeth admitted, then sank on to her
chintz sofa and burst into tears.

Nina put aside her notes and .finance projections and
gave Elizabeth a hug.

'Jack and I are through.' Elizabeth explained what she
could, in between sobs.

'But that's terrible. Did he fly back to Texas?'

'Just to Dublin.' Elizabeth was distraUght, almost
choking on her tears. 'He said he's got stud business there
and in England ... God, if he comes back to London I
don't think I'll be able to bear it.'


4o6

'London's a big city, babe, and he likely won't be here
for long.'

'I don't know if that makes it better or worse,'
Elizabeth said, wiping her hand across her eyes.

'Look, we'll buy you out if that's what you want,'
Nina said bravely, wondering where the hell she was ever
going to get the money. 'You should be happy.'

'But that's just the problem. I can't be happy in a gold
cage. I should know,' Elizabeth said. She picked up the
notes Nina had put down. 'Come on, tell me what's
going on.'

'Are you sure? It's ... a pretty big deal. Do you want to
look at it now?'

Elizabeth nodded. 'Don't worry, my head's still intact.
It's just my heart that's broken.'


Outside.Tony Savage's windows, all was calm. The sun
glittered on the sluggish Thames, lambswool clouds
bobbed across a periwinkle-blue sky, traffic flowed
serenely across the bridge below them. Inside the office,
things were not so calm.

'They're doing what?' Tony barked.

Frank Staunton recoiled from Tony's anger, the Terrier
shrinking from its master's boot. 'Bank financing,' Staun
ton repeated. 'Maybe they suspect that going public
would see them taken over.'

The earl got to his feet and started to pace around his
office. The anger in his stomach was going to give him an
ulcer. In the early days he'd kept tabs on Nina Roth's
little adventure through a discreet but expensive private
investigator; looking for the moment it got off the
ground, so he could crush it. Then Elizabeth had hooked
up with her. He had to hear that news twice before he
believed it; didn't the silly little bitches hate each other?
Evidently, not so much as they hated him. Tall Poppies!
Elizabeth's long-distance insult, her arrogant slap in the


4o7

face. And when they'd gone out and picked up Namath,
that unshaven, unbusinesslike slob, Tony had fired three
of his personnel directors in a blind fury. His company
had discarded the programmer as so much excess
baggage. At Lilly Hall's request, all Namath's royalties
were sequestered; the bonus was eliminated; he'd got
nothing. But Lilly's work was an expensive bust, while
Harry Namath was already paying off. For a company
that was turning into the London School of Dragon
Rejects.

Yesterday at lunch Bob Cohen had teased him unmercifully.
'And you let them go, Tony! Talent like that?'
The financier clearly enjoyed the joke as he speared his
arugula salad. It had been a long time since the Robber
' Baron had looked this dumb.

'They're riding a craze,' Tony replied tightly.

'You think?' Bob shook his head. 'Home computing's
not just PacoMan any more. If this new venture is as hot
as the money is saying, all bets are off.' Cohen lifted his
Chteau-Lafite. 'Your daughter's company could be as
bi as yours in a year, Tony, it must run in the family.
Good Lord, you must be busting with pride.'

Tony pleaded sickness and called for the bill. He
couldn't deal with this, just couldn't bear it. All round
the Square Mile they were whispering at him and
laughing. He hadn't felt such powerful rage since Louise
ran off with that prick DeFries.

'It would see them taken owe. By me.'

I expect they know that, Savage, Staunton thought but
didn't say. 'Of course, if the product fails--'

'They fail. So we must make sure it does.'

'I don't see how we can do that, sir. Dr .Namath is a
genius programmer, the Roth girl seems to know what
she's doing and the banks are queuing up to lend them
money. Lady Elizabeth has them mad with curiosity

408


move pretty fast.'

'There's a simple way to stop them,' Tony said. His
manicured fists clenched on top of the table. 'There's
always a simple way. Get out, could you, Frank, I need to
think.'

Without saying a word, Staunton glided out of the
room and shut the door behind him. Tony stared angrily
into his Quotron screen. The Dragon share price was
blinking down another eighth. In the dull glass screen he
saw himself reflected: handsome, urbane, beautifully
dressed. It didn't satisfy him. Nothing did that any more,
not the limpid debs he was screwing, not his sons' bland
obedience, nor the crawling of his corporate vassals like
Frank Staunton. The explosion he had thought would
catapult him into the really big time had fizzled out with
a whimper. He wasn't ruined, but this felt almost as bad.

Small stock dips. Loss of respect. Treading water.

And two young women laughing in his face.

They were laying themselves open now, though. All he
had to do was see that this product failed miserably.
Sabotage? No, too clumsy, and he didn't have the time.
He recalled the smug face of Bob Cohen.

'Home Office. A tailored software package, a Filofax
for the PC. Wave of the future, old boy, and Tall Poppies
will be the first ones out there. Nobody can catch
Namath, and he's immune to poaching.'

The earl caught his breath. It was so damn obvious, he
was amazed he hadn't thought- of it before. He lifted his
Svres coffee cup in a toast.

'Bob, you're a bloody genius,' he said.


They divided up the tasks between them. Elizabeth
toured the finance sources with the company lawyers,
raising the money. Nina went round the country, interviewing
software manufacturers for the subcontracting,


4o9

and talking to sales reps. By the time Elizabeth had
moved on to packaging and promotion, everything was
in place. They were all waiting on Harry.

'Look, when I said it was ready I meant the basic code,'
Namath said.

'You needn't talk to us like we're retards,' Nina
snapped.

'Time out,' Elizabeth protested, holding up one hand.

'Isn't that what you Yanks usuallysay? Harry, just how

far along are we?'

'Two weeks away from beta-testing.'

'Speak English,' Nina said.

Harry shrugged angrily. 'Hey, make your mind up,
toots. Either you understand or you don't. Two weeks
'away from customer try-outs, a month away from
production.'

'Who's in charge?'

'I'm doing the user interface - graphics, sound, cartoons,
all the stuff that'll make it attractive to the buyers.
Tim Paris is finishing up the platforms. John Cobb is

ch6cking the code, and Lee Reddy's troubleshooting.'

'We should be ready earlier,' Nina fretted.

'OK, Nina. You want to write the program yourself,

be my guest. Otherwise it's one month. You must have.
business stuff you can do.'

'No.' Nina shook her head. 'The "business stuff", as

you put it, is all done.'

'Then the only thing you can do is wait,' Harry said.
'Take a holiday,' Elizabeth said. 'Oh, don't look at me
that way, Nina, just a week. Recharge your batteries.

Like an investment in your energy.'

'I can't, you need me.'

'No way.' Harry grinned at Elizabeth. 'She's right.

She's going ahead with the marketing and I'm writing.

What I need is for you to get out of my hair.'

Reluctantly, Nina agreed to a holiday.


4to

It was a mistake. She found she was scouring the
business press every day, devouring Elizabeth's banner
adverts and PR pieces. She couldn't relax with a book,
knowing that her whole future was riding on this. She
tried turning up to work on the Wednesday, but
Elizabeth pushed her back out the doors again.

'But I'm going stir crazy,' Nina pleaded. 'I want to do
something to help the company.'

'You really want to do something? Then you should go
see Harry,' Elizabeth told her. 'Seriously. I mean it. When
Home Office is launched, Tall Poppies will take off like a
rocket, but the rocket will explode unless you guys sort
yourselves out. Whatever the problem is, you need to talk

it through. We're partners.'

'You don't understand.'

On the contrary. I do understand. Look, Nina, if you
and me-can wind up friends, so can you and Harry.
You're both adults.'

'OK.' Nina nodded. 'OK, I'll go round right now. We
won't be friends, but ... we can work something out.' She

pressed Elizabeth's hand. 'How are you?'

The? Terrific, this is an easy sell.'

'I meant personally. With Jack. Is he still around?'
Elizabeth's beautiful face took on a tight look. Her
smile no longer reached her eyes. 'Yes, but he's going
home next week, so I'll be able to forget all about him.'

Nina smiled back and turned to hail a taxi. She knew
neither of them belieced that, but there was no point in
saying so. Elizabeth was trying to get on with her life,
and, as Nina knew herself, there was really nothing else
for a woman to do. It was why she'd agreed to see Harry.
To put the past in the past, and move on, like a grown
woman.


'Hey, what a pleasant surprise,' Harry said wearily as he
opened the door. He was wearing jeans and a faded blue

shirt and he looked great, despite the red eyes and
stubble. That's what you get, Nina thought, if you're
shackled to a .computer screen for days on end. 'What
have I done now?'

'Nothing. Absolutely nothing,' Nina said, squeezing
past him. 'Except work like a slave. It's OK, Harry, I've
come to apologise.'

He looked at her suspiciously. 'Either this is a plot of
Elizabeth's or I'm having caffeine hallucinations.'

'Right first time.' Nina went into the kitchen and
reached for his coffee jars. 'See? I'll make decaf.'

She glanced around the pretty kitchen, taking in all
Harry's chaos: drying clothes strewn everywhere, food
left out on the side, running shoes kicked casually under
'the table. It was so homely and domestic. She fought the
urge to mother him, to tidy up the mess. She had no right
to do that. She had no true place in Harry's life. Elizabeth
was right, this was a conversation she had to have. You
couldn't fight with your partner all the time; it was bad
for business.

But Nina was scared. She was about to face things
she'd long since swept under the carpet.


'No way.' Harry followed her into the kitchen and Nina
tried not to flinch at how close he was standing. 'You
have some agenda, Roth, you're permanently on my

case.'

'l came over to talk about that, To ... apologise,' Nina
repeated. Her mouth was drying up, this was a bad idea.
She was feeling nervous. God, he shouldn't be able to do
this to her. Not still. 'We're partners, we shouldn't be at
each other's throats like hyenas. I think you're doing a
great job.'

'You think I'm doing a great job.' Harry looked at her
searchingly. 'Jesus. Do you have any idea how clinical
that sounds?'


4Iz

'I want you to tell me the truth.'

'Harry--'

'No. I want you to tell me the truth. You came over to
clear the air, right?' Harry said mercilessly. 'So clear it.'

This was it. He's going to make me say it, Nina
thought miserably. She couldn't stave off the confrontation
a moment longer. It was so hard, though, with
Harry standing there, looking so handsome, his gorgeous
eyes with the thick black lashes staring at her so
challengingly. He would never understand why she'd
done what she'd done ...

'OK.' Nina took a deep breath. 'I thought it was easier

to be aggressive than let you look down on me.'

'I didn't do that.'

She flushed. 'Come on, Harry. I know what Tony

Savage aid to you, and - it was all true.'

Harry nodded. 'I know that.'

'Then you must despise me,' Nina said, and to her
horror she heard her voice break and felt her eyes film
over.

'No. It's true, I wanted an explanation, but you made
it very clear I had no right to one. You broke up with
him, and I couldn't compete with some ghost. I hoped I
might win you over, once we were colleagues again, but

that hasn't exactly worked out.' He gave her a small grin.
'You couldn't compete? I hate Tony Savage.'
'So you must have loved him once, right?'

'Wrong! Are you insane.' Nina said. 'I hate him
because he told you, he took-you away from me!'

There was a moment's dumbstruck silence. Harry just
stared at her. Then he reached forwards and grabbed her
two hands in his.

'But you were having a relationship ...'

Nina tugged her hands away. 'No. I slept with him
because I was young and tough, or I thought I was tough.

413


I didn't love anybody. I was new and hungry, and
everyone assumed I was sleeping with him anyway, so I

thought, what the hell? He can be of some use to me.'
'So why did you break up with him?'

'Because it didn't feel cut and dried like I thought it
would. It made me feel ... bad. I realised I was talented, I
had promotions due me anyway.'

'And he didn't like it when you walked.'

'First he threatened me. Then he told you. Then he
offered me rewards. And then he fired me.'

Harry Namath looked like a man processing a lot of
information, Nina thought bitterly.

'But you did find him attractive.'

'Yes, at first I did, but I never loved him.'

,
	'And I made you feel there could be something more to

it.'

'Yeah, well. That was obviously another mistake. I
should learn to trust my instincts. Look, Harry. I won't
snipe at you any more, but I'll tell you right now,' Nina
said, 'that's the way it was. I'm not apologising for it.
You can judge me when you've walked in my shoes, and
not before--'

'Jesus!' Namath said. He moved closer to her, lifted
one hand and clamped it over her mouth. 'You know
your trouble, honey, you never listen. I don't judge you.
You don't love him?'

He lifted his hand. Nina muttered, 'No.'
'You never did?'
'No.'

'Then that's all I give a damn about,' Harry said, and
he pushed her back against the cooker and kissed her.

414


Chapter 43


Nina didn't go into work the next day. Or the next. She
moved her stuff into Harry's, and every moment he
wasn't working on Home Office, they went upstairs and
made love. She got that same thawing feeling she'd had in
Switzerland, only this time there was no fear, no ghosts
lurking in the darkness of her past. Harry filled in
something missing from her life she didn't know was
gone. In his arms she felt safe and relaxed. Except for the
times when safe was the last thing she was feeling.
Sometimes it was tender, but mostly it was harshly
sexual, animal coupling, his hands twisting in her hair as
she went down on him, their naked bodies writhing in
front of the mirror, Harry talking dirty in her ear until
she was half-maddened, and then thrusting savagely into
her until she came. But there was no shame to that, no
nasty, guilty tang in the mouth afterwards. It was the
difference between having sex and making love. Nina
climaxed effortlessly every time.

On the Saturday EliZabeth came round for a council of
war and found them curled on the couch in their dressing

gowns.

'Hey, don't mind me.' She held. up a hand to block
Nina's protets. 'It was always going to be when, not if.
When's the wedding?'

'Whenever we have time,' Harry said, grinning.

Elizabeth looked horrified. 'You're going to wait that
long?'

'So what's the news?' Nina asked.


415

'Thunderbirds are go, kids. The good news is the loans
went through this morning. Our asses are in hock to the
banks to the tune of four million quid.'

'I'm on schedule, despite the distractions,' Harry said
calmly, 'if John Cobb and Tim Paris are ready.'

'Well, if not, they haven't said anything to me.'
Elizabeth got up to leave. 'I hate to spoil the mood, guys,
but maybe Nina should come into the office again. We
need to be totally ready, and wecan't afford to have
Harry delayed.'


Elizabeth tried to analyse her feelings as she turned into
Earls Court Road. She hadn't felt so upset in a long time.
She was happy for Nina and Harry, wasn't she? They

'were two of her dearest friends now, and the atmosphere
at work would be smooth as silk. But she didn't feel
happy, she felt wretchedly miserable. It was too saintly to
try and rejoice for other people when your own heart felt
shattered.

She was glad the Tall Poppies situation was so urgent.
It took her mind off Jack, off the dust and ashes in her
mouth every morning when she woke up.

She parked the car and stepped out on to the sunny
pavement. And stopped dead.

Jack Taylor was sitting on her steps.

Elizabeth's eyes lit up like floodlights. 'Jack!' She
rushed over and hugged him. 'What are you doing here?
I'm so glad to see you!'

He's changed his mind! He wants me, he can't stand it,
he wants us to get married

'You won't be, when you know why I've come,' Jack
said.

Elizabeth pulled back and looked at him. He was
grave. 'What's wrong? Is somebody dead?'

'No. Nobody's dead, but it's not good, sugar,' Jack
replied. 'You're in big trouble. I'm real sorry.'


416

Elizabeth unlocked her door and took him inside. Jack
told her everything he'd heard, and Elizabeth sat down,
shakily.

'Are you OK?' He looked anxious. 'Let me get you a
drink, or something.'

'No. Thank you,' Elizabeth said, distractedly. 'I need
to call Nina, and my lawyers. Look - thanks for letting
me know.'

'Hey.' Jack pushed the phone towards her. 'You call
who you want, but I'm not leaving. Right now, you need
a friend.'


Tony Savage walked into the lobby of the Dragon tower
and smiled with perfect triumph.

Though it was a Saturday, the place was buzzing.
Production designers had been recalled from their weekends,
sales staff were busy placing calls and faxes, and
Dragon factories were unlocking .their gates for a little
extra overtime.

'Your guest is waiting in your office, my lord.' The
receptionist smiled deferentially. 'Good morning.'

Tony nodded. 'It is indeed.'


'They're going to do what?' Nina gasped.

'Put out a program of their own. "Executive Package."
TV advertising starts tomorrow, a huge spend, commercials
during the news and Coronation Street. Billboards
in the City and the West End.'

'But that would cost millions]' Elizabeth said. 'It would
swallow up initial profits--'

'He's got millions, and it don't look like he cares about
profits,' Jack said. 'He just wants to be first. He's got all
the machinery in place already. Factories. Sales forces
hundreds of guys strong. Instant packaging expertise.
And with the reputation of a big, cash-rich company
behind it the analysts love it. They've seen the response to


4x7

your proposals, you see? They know people are waiting
for this.'

'You mean to tell me we've just prepared the ground
for Dragon?' Nina spat.

'Looks that way. I'm truly sorry.'

Elizabeth pushed her hands through her hair. 'If he
takes the first wave of customers--'

'It could become industry standard,' Nina said dully.
'Nobody will buy a competing product from a baby
firm.'

'But I don't get it,' Elizabeth said, jumping up and
pacing around the room. 'Harry knows he was way in
advance of the pack on this. How could anybody have
overtaken Harry's team?'

The two women looked at each other.

'Oh my God,' Nina said. 'I can't believe it. That slimy
prick. He's poached one of our team. He's creamed off
Harry's work. It's the only answer.'

'If that's true, you got resources,' Jack pointed out.
'You can sue.'

"By then the horse would have bolted. And anyway,
lawyers cost money,' Elizabeth said. 'It wouldn't do any
good.'

'We need to call Harry. He's in the office, working on
some last-minute stuff.' Nina punched in the number and
Harry picked up right away..They talked quietly for a
few minutes.

Jack looked at Elizabeth. 'If you want to hire lawyers,
you can use my money, but I guess you wouldn't take it.'

'You guess right,' Elizabeth replied, 'but thanks, Jack.
You've been a good friend.'

He nodded. 'I wanted to be a lot more than that.'
'Maybe you still will.' Elizabeth was onthe brink of
tears now. 'If my company isn't - if I turn into the most
famous bankrupt in Britain, I wouldn't stick around out
of pride.'


48

'But truly.' She smiled bravely at him. 'You must be
pretty glad this has happened.'

He thought about that for a little while. 'No. I'm not,'
Jack said finally. 'I can't stand to see you in pain.'

Nina hung up and turned round, shattering the
moment. Her eyes as she looked at Elizabeth were bright.
'Harry and I have had a little chat. He doesn't think we
should do anything. Just carry on as before. No statements
to the press. No panic.'

'Pretend it's not happening?'

'John Cobb's gone,' Nina said. 'Left a message on
Harry's answerphone. Tony hired him for over a million
a year.'

'What?' Elizabeth's mouth dropped open. 'A million
quid? We were paying him twenty-three grand! That's a
hell of a pay rise! What does he have that's worth a
million?'

'Experience.' Nina looked grim. 'He was in charge of
checking Harry's code. He had total access to Home
Office.'

'And Harry thinks we should just keep our heads
down, carry on regardless?'

'If that's Harry's advice, we have to trust him.'

'You're right there,' Elizabeth said furiously. 'There's
bugger all else we can do.'


It was agony to watch. The mighty Dragon sales machine
swung into action with devastating effect. TV screens
were bombarded with ads. The computer press ran
profiles of both systems and concluded there was nothing
to pick between them. Except for one key point. Dragon's
was out first.

The press Elizabeth had courted were now hounding
her wherever she went. If Tall Poppies had had a share

price, trading would have been suspended. The hacks
who'd loved them last week were now full of scorn. Trust
two stupid bimbos to put all their eggs in one basket!
Their bankers were on the phone every day, demanding
clarification. When Tall Poppies' own campaigns, modest
and well targeted, started to run, people poured scorn
upon them. Scenting blood, the tabloids even got in on
the act. The idea of a deadly rivalry between Tony Savage
and his estranged daughter was just too delicious to
resist. How stupid we were to criticise the Robber Baron,
the papers crawled. Letting those three losers go was a
great idea.

Lord Caerhaven gave a few triumphant interviews.
Dignified pieces in serious organs: the FT, The Times,
1The Economist. Everybody feared him again. Dragon's

stock took a massive ten-point jump.

Executive Package launched on the first of August in a

blaze of publicity. Elizabeth and Nina stayed quietly in
their offices, putting the final touches to Home Office.
They took no calls from the press.

Sales for Dragon's package, as predicted, went through

the roof. A super-efficient sales force was on hand to see
huge piles of the beautiful box stacked everywhere from
toy stores to stationers'. Initial stocks soon sold out and
Tony switched two more factories to EP. More copies
were rush-produced. Linguists produced interfaces in
French, Spanish and German. For two weeks, Executive
Package was the computer craze of the moment.

Tall Poppies bowed Home Office on schedule, but they

were way behind. Lukewarm reviews said there was
nothing wrong with the product, but so what? With its
no-nonsense packaging, no sales discounts and lack of
publicity, Home Office was a moth to Tony Savage's
glittering butterfly. Their loans were due in two months.
It looked like the game was up.

'He's won,' Nina said dully.


4o

'Wait and see.' Elizabeth was defiant. 'I don't hear any
fat lady singing.'


Exactly twenty-one days after the launch, Dragon took a
call. A sweet shop in Birmingham complained of a bug.
Instead of printing out its normal spreadsheets, Executive
Package was typing a nursery rhyme. Over and over.
Nothing they could do would stop it.

Tony called the customer personally. He thought it
was a masterly piece of PR.

'Must be a faulty copy. What's the message exactly?'

The man sounded embarrassed. 'It goes, "I'm the king
of the castle, and you're the dirty rascal," uh, milord.'

'What?' Tony coloured. 'Never mind. Just a glitch.
We'll replace it right away.'

That same clay, the Customer Service Department
received fen more calls. The next day, twenty. By the end
of the week, they were flooded.

'Jesus Christ!' Tony said, raging at John Cobb. 'Fix this! Don't you understand, we have half a warehouse
full of returned copies?'

Cobb looked helplessly at Frank Staunton. 'I can't fix
it. It's programmed into the code. It, uh, appears to be a
time-activated thing.'

'It prints the message three weeks after EP is turned
on, sir,' Frank Staunton said smoothly.

Tony looked at his underling with loathing. The little
jerk was enjoying this!

'If it's in the code, write new code! Change it!'
Cobb ran his hands through greasy hair. He looked
like a man who hadn't slept. 'But I can't do that, milord.

It was Henry Namath's code.'

'Get out,' Tony snarled.

Cobb scuttled out. Tony sat down heavily in his carved
chair and stared at Staunton. 'I can't believe it.' The

clipped tones were tight with humiliation and fury. 'It's a
trap. The little bitches have trapped me.'

'We'll have to recall the entire line,' Staunton said
blandly. 'I'm afraid the television stations are starting to
pick up on it.' He tossed Tony a copy of that night's Evening Standard. Twin shots on the front page showed
Tony and a computer screen, blurting out the EP

message. The headline was, 'DIRTY RASCAL TO LOSE HIS
CASTLE'.

'To do what?' Tony snorted. 'What are they talking
about, Staunton?'

'I think it's this comment from Marcus Fitzallen, sir,'
the Terrier said with undisguised pleasure, 'speaking as
Chairman of the Board of Dragon. He says they want a
word.'

Epilogue


'But he survived,' Nina said.

Elizabeth shrugged. 'Of course he survived. Men like
that always do. My father knows too many people, he's
spent a lifetime covering his back.'

They were in the office, sipping champagne and leafing
through the papers at a celebratory Tall Poppies brunch.
All around them was the chaos of last night's wild staff
party. Friday morning, when Tall Poppies went public,
the issue was an immediate success. After the bank loans
had been repaid, they were all three millionaires, a few
times over. Today they were looking at pictures of
themselves in the financial pages, smiling broadly. Many
of them were placed next to a grim-faced Tony Savage
exiting his board meeting. The 'Rascal' fiasco had cost
him a profits warning and a public reprimand.

'What made you suspect John Cobb?' Jack asked
Harry.

He grinned. 'I didn't. I just didn't trust anybody. I
booby-trap every programme I write against hackers.'

'Come on, sweetheart.' Nina stood up and beckoned
Harry. 'Let's go home.'

'OK.' He reached over and biefly touched her cheek.
'I'll wait for you in the car.'

'Goodbye, Jack,' Nina said, waving to him.

'Nina.' He winked.

Elizabeth said, 'I'll walk down with you,' ran over and
threaded her arm through Nina's.

'We did it,' Elizabeth said.


4z3

'We did the first part of it,' Nina replied, smiling softly.

'We've got a long way to go to get where I want to be.'
'Tony'll be back, you know? We hurt him badly, and
we made him look like a fool.'

'Yeah, ain't life grand,' Nina said, her eyes sparkling.
'We can handle him, no problem.'

'It's true: he couldn't stamp us out when we had
nothing ...' Elizabeth grinned. 'Living well is the best
revenge, but misery and humiliation's pretty good too.'

They hugged, and Nina slipped out to the back, to
where Harry was waiting for her.


Elizabeth walked slowly back up the stairs. The place

looked like it had been hijacked by a gang of marauding
, kids. Squishy cake on the steps and balloons drifting

everywhere.

Jack was perching on the edge of her office couch,
wearing jeans, cowboy boots and a thick blue jumper. He
looked so gorgeous. Bittersweet pleasure, because now,
Elizabeth thought, he's got nothing to stick around for.

0 She walked over to him and sat down. Don't cry,
Elizabeth warned herself, as her exhilaration burst like
one of the balloons. Don't ruin the happy mood by
getting all emotional.

You know the score.

'So, I guess you'll be leaving soon.'

'Hmm. Maybe.' Taylor nodded. 'But first, I got a
business proposition for you.'.

Business. Right. Elizabeth tried to look enthusiastic.
'Sure, go ahead.'

'Well now,' Jack said slowly. His Southern accent
dripped over her like honey, she hated how his voice
turned her on. 'I spoke to Pop last night. Thought if y'all
could make so much money with lateral thinking, we
should give it a try. I was talking to him about property
over here. The Viceroy Hotel.'


42-4

'The place on the river?'

'Yes, ma'am. We reckon it would look real good in the
portfolio, but it'll need upgrading. We thought maybe
Tall Poppies could do it.'

Elizabeth sat stunned. 'But that would take you--'

'At least six months. By which time, you'll probably

need to open an office in the States.'

'Jack!'

He caught her left hand and pressed it to his mouth.
'Baby, I'll say it again. Will you marry me? We can be
together, we'll work something out. Hell, you take all
these dollar-and-cent gambles every day. Why don't you
risk a little on something important?'

Elizabeth leaned up and kissed him. He tasted of sun
and champagne and Texas, Jack, her Jack, absolutely the

only man she had ever loved.
'Aggressive as ever.'
'Is that a yes?'

'Oh, yeah,' Elizabeth said, 'that's a yes, sugar.'

4z5