I am here.’
Carlo Ventura’s quiet voice distracted him, and Alex turned to the man, who had worked for the Conti family since before Alex himself was born, with enforced civility.
‘Carlo,’ he said, inclining his head, noticing as he did so that the red-haired woman had apparently abandoned her efforts to make any headway with the car rentals agency, and was presently striding out of the building. She had nice legs, too, reflected Alex unguardedly, and then, impatient that he could think of such things at a time like this, he let Carlo take his briefcase, and fell into step beside him. ‘Has there been any news?’
‘No, signore.’ Carlo shook his greying head regretfully. He was several inches shorter than his employer, and he had to look up to meet Alex’s dark eyes. ‘No word at all, signore. I am sorry.’
Alex’s silence was eloquent of his feelings. They emerged into the moist air of the afternoon with a shared sense of frustration. There was only so much he could do, thought Alex, sloughing the jacket of his silver-grey suit and draping it over his shoulder. With the best will in the world, he could only guess at Virginia’s destination. And in a city the size of San Diego it was all too easy to disappear. A woman and a child travelling alone were not conspicuous. He supposed he ought to be grateful that she was on her own. If some other man had been involved, what price his daughter’s safety then? All he could do was leave it in Morales’s hands, until he found a lead that was hopeful.
The dark blue Mercedes that Carlo had driven to the airport to meet him was waiting just outside. Although it was being eyed rather contentiously by the traffic policeman sitting astride his motor cycle by the taxi-stand, it hadn’t as yet received a ticket, and Alex was relieved. He raised his hand in greeting as he recognised the uniformed patrolman who had granted the dispensation, and as he did so he saw the redhead again, this time climbing into the back of one of the cabs that plied for hire between the airport and Waikiki. He guessed she was one of the many holiday-makers the islands attracted throughout the year. There was no real ‘season’ in Hawaii, and tourists arrived at all times of the year. Most started their holiday in Oahu, and Waikiki was still the most popular resort in the whole of the Pacific.
He noticed she wasn’t wearing a lei around her neck, and he wondered if she had visited the islands before. He, too, had sidestepped the proffered garland, but in his case it was familiarity, rather than any desire to offend the smiling wahine. Most people found the custom of being greeted with a necklace of orchids rather charming. But evidently her arrival had not been all it should be.
And then, irritated with himself again for allowing his attention to be diverted, Alex tossed his jacket on to the back seat of the Mercedes and slid behind the wheel. He wished he had only the frustration of not being able to find a hire-car on his mind. How nice it would be, he thought, to put everything but his own personal needs out of his mind.
Carlo was busy supervising the porter, who had accompanied them outside, opening the trunk and having the man stow Alex’s suitcase inside. Then he walked round to join his employer. ‘OK, signore,’ he said, slipping into the seat beside him. And Alex put the car into gear, and relaxed as the powerful engine carried them away from the airport.
It was good to be in control of his transportation again, even if he was not in control of his destiny, Alex thought wryly. He had always believed he was in control of both, but recent events had taught him that nothing in life was sure.
He drove into the city first. As Carlo had said there was no news at the house, he wanted to call at his office on the off chance that there might be a message there. From Morales perhaps, he reflected hopefully. It was more than twenty-four hours since he had spoken to the investigator, and he had told him to keep him informed of any development, no matter how small.
The route into the city took him along Nimitz Highway, past the familiar sight of the Dole Pineapple Cannery, and into downtown Honololu. The syrupy scent of the cannery that assailed his nostrils as he drove over the Kapalama Canal bridge was vaguely reassuring, but for once the sight of the pineapple-shaped water tank failed to give him a lift. Even the marina, where his own yacht, the Maroso, was moored, warranted only a passing glance, the nodding heads of the sailing craft like flamingos against the blue horizon.
Although the skies out at the airport had been dull and overcast, Honolulu and nearby Waikiki were bathed in unbroken sunshine. Which was the reason the island was so popular, Alex knew. It seldom, if ever, rained on Waikiki Beach, and the soft showers that did fall melted in temperatures that soared into the eighties. Indeed, it was another of the island’s boasts that the gentle breezes that played along its shoreline never allowed the heat to become oppressive. It was hot and often humid, but never unbearable.
The Conti building stood in Ala Wai Boulevard, not far from the First Hawaiian Bank. It was one of the many skyscrapers that had begun to dot the Honolulu skyline in recent years, and it mingled congenially with the smaller though more architecturally impressive buildings around it. Visitors were always intrigued by the way old buildings jostled cheek-by-jowl with modern constructions, with parks, churches and palm trees offering peaceful oases of shade.
Carlo waited in the car while Alex went up to his office. The Conti Corporation, which had been founded by his grandfather between the wars, had now expanded its operations into most of the major industries of the world, and the building was a hive of activity. As managing director, Alex was its senior executive, with a highly skilled team of consultants working with him. His father, retired now but still active, had retained the title of chief executive officer, but it was a nominal position at best. To all intents and purposes, Alex was in charge, and he had the final word in any controversy.
However, since Virginia had disappeared, Alex had spent little time in the office, and he had been glad to leave any decision-making to someone else. With interests that ranged from import and export to logging, from coal-mines in Europe to steel-mills in Asia, from oil in Canada to emeralds in Columbia, the company would have been impossible to operate successfully without his delegating responsibility. It was one of the things his father had taught him, after his grandfather had died of a stroke at the age of forty-nine, and he had been glad of that knowledge during the past week. Apart from anything else, he wouldn’t have trusted his own judgement in his present state of distraction, and it wasn’t fair to make mistakes when so many people’s livelihoods were involved.
‘Mr Conti!’
Sophy Ling, one of a pair of secretaries who occupied the outer office, greeted him with genuine warmth, and Alex forced a smile in response. ‘Hi, Sophy,’ he said, nodding at her and her companion. ‘Have there been any messages for me?’
Sophy looked as regretful as she felt, and Alex guessed that the news of Virginia’s disappearance had percolated throughout the whole building by this time. He had hoped to avoid the inevitable publicity it would create, and as yet he was not being accosted by reporters wanting to know what was going on. But it would come, he knew it. Which was another reason for keeping away from the Conti building.
‘Is Grant in his office?’ he asked now, avoiding any overt expressions of sympathy, and Sophy’s companion, Rose Fraser, said that he was. Grant Blaisdell was his cousin and his personal assistant, and in Alex’s absence he had been running the operation. ‘OK. I’ll be in Mr Blaisdell’s office, if you need me.’
‘Mr Conti …’
Evidently Sophy hadn’t got the message, and Alex had to steel his features as he turned to speak to her. ‘Yes?’
‘We—that is, Rose and I—we were sorry to hear about Mrs Conti,’ Sophy ventured tentatively. ‘If—if there’s anything we can do …’
‘There’s not.’ Alex managed to keep his tone pleasant with an effort. ‘But thanks anyway. It’s appreciated.’
Grant’s office adjoined the executive suite, a room only marginally smaller than Alex’s own office. Like his, it had a magnificent view over the whole of Honolulu, with the familiar sight of the Aloha Tower marking the waterfront.
Grant himself