Authors: Jane Corrie
A confidence, however, that proved to be slightly misplaced by Sean's tight-lipped reply. `How much do you know about Eddie's private life?' he asked, and at Sarah's surprised blink at this, he went on, 'I suppose being a reporter hardens you to other people's troubles, doesn't it? When some poor devil hits the headlines, it's all grist to the mill, isn't it? Just good copy to add to the list of the star reporter's ego!'
Sarah did not bother to challenge this. She would be wasting her breath. If he knew so much about her paper, he would also know that it was a reputable paper that reported the facts without embellishment; the other publications could be relied upon to dot the is and cross the t's. Intelligent people could read between the lines, and didn't need a blueprint.
`Just in case, you didn't know,' Sean went on smoothly, 'Eddie needs his job—more than most, as it happens. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt that you don't know his circumstances.
Like your affair with Don, it's not something that he would want noised abroad. His son's in a classy nursing home. He's a drug addict, or was. The treatment he's getting is the best that can be had. When they're cured, they stay cured, but it's expensive, and I don't think it leaves Eddie a lot over to play with, if you see what I mean,' he added meaningly.
Sarah's first reaction was that this was the nearest approach to blackmail that she had ever encountered. Even if it were true, it was a pretty rotten way to make her toe the line just to satisfy a personal grudge of his against her. She wasn't inclined to give in quite so easily as all that. Her blue eyes met his defiantly. 'If we lose our jobs,' she said, reminding him that they were only discussing possibilities, for Eddie, anyway, she thought, if not for her, 'perhaps we could start a paper between us. Eddie's not all that happy where he is.'
`I think that's a nonstarter, don't you?' Sean said hatefully. 'I can't see a rich backer laying out good money on such a scheme on a pair who'd fallen down on a story as big as this one.'
Sarah's eyes glinted back at him, openly showing her dislike of the man. So they had hit the jackpot, and it must have been a big strike. Her gaze left him, and centred on the door behind him. She was expected to cave in now, but there had to be another way out. Her small teeth caught her lower lip. He had said something about giving Eddie extra information that the others hadn't got. If she could only find out what that was, she would have a good excuse for late
reporting. Why didn't she go along with this detestable man's proposition? If she played her cards right, she could still keep her job. It meant staying on at the camp, of course, but not for long. The wet was due in about three weeks' time, and that would be the end of the project for that season anyway. She could tell Eddie that she was taking three weeks' holiday, couldn't she? He would be only too relieved that he had the story, and he wouldn't crib too much.
`So, as I was saying,' Sean broke into her musings, `Eddie's in no position to chance his arm on any wildcat schemes that might or might not come off.'
Sarah's eyes gave nothing of her thoughts away, but her voice was not quite so belligerent as it had been before, as she said abruptly, 'So?'
Sean nodded, accepting this as her acceptance of his terms. 'So Eddie's given the data. Plus a hint of a bigger find to keep him happy and not fret about the loss of his star reporter.' He acknowledged the dangerous glint in Sarah's eyes as he prodded her with his sneering opinion of her hard-earned reputation. 'I'll keep my word. It all depends on your cooperation.'
Sarah gave an impatient nod of the head. `What exactly is this other find?' she asked abruptly.
Sean's firm lips twisted into a sneer. 'Once a newshound, always a newshound, eh? Well, I suppose there's no harm in giving you some of the data. You're not going to be able to use it. Even if you hadn't accepted my terms, I didn't intend to let you off the hook for quite some time.'
WHAT little information Sean did give Sarah was enough to prove that her editor would be more than satisfied with the turn of events, even if it was at Sarah's expense.
The 'C' factor, a rare and commercially sought-after power-releasing mineral, had been found on the site, but only the oil find had been made public—or would be, when the news was proclaimed in the press the following day, and even if the more astute members of the press fraternity suspected a cover-up, there was nothing that they could do about it but accept Sean Cartier's ruling that they quit the site.
Sarah pondered on this as soon as Sean Cartier left her to fulfil his part of the bargain, as he had put it, to keep Sarah's editor in the picture.
What exactly he would say about her continued absence, Sarah had no idea, but she was of the opinion that he would hint that she was still covering the story; determined as he was to carry out what he considered a fitting punishment for her callous treatment of his cousin, he must have realised that Eddie would never swallow the story about her chucking up her job and deciding to settle down. He would have to do better than that, she thought angrily, unless he wanted to find himself had up on an abduction charge, which was what it amounted to anyway, she told hers elf grimly.
No one, but no one, could take the law into his own hands like that. He might be king of that small domain, but just wait until she got back to Sydney! She recalled the raillery she had had to put up with after Sean Cartier had singled her out for attention soon after they had got to the site. Remarks such as 'was she dangling after a rich husband?' and if so, she had 'struck the jackpot'.
Her small chin jutted out. If that were true, then she wouldn't need a job. She would sue Mr High and Mighty for all she could get. Her blue eyes narrowed in speculation. Why, she could even back another paper! The kind of paper Eddie had talked about producing when in the middle of another set-to with the proprietor. It was every editor's dream to print precisely what he wanted to print, with no holds barred because of commercial interests.
Sarah sighed. It was all very well making plans, but first she had to get out of the place—a place as well guarded as Fort Knox, and for the life of her she didn't see how. Her first thought about the airstrip was a non-runner. It was at the back of the site, and the wire fencing that enclosed the area also surrounded the airstrip, and there was always someone posted on the gates, during the day anyway, as there were no night flights, and even if Sarah did manage to get out during the dead of night, there was nowhere for her to hide in the flat expanse of desert territory while she waited for a plane to arrive. It just wasn't on.
After accepting this salient fact, she consoled herself with the thought that three weeks was not
a lifetime. Thank goodness for the wet! At least that could be relied upon to bring the project to a halt, and surely she could put up with the situation that long, couldn't she? She sighed. She didn't have much choice in the matter anyway.
It did, of course, give her time to work out her next move when she got to Sydney, and which lawyer was going to receive her instructions, so she would have something to keep her amused, she thought, but instead of cheering her, this thought depressed her. It was not what she had wanted. It would mean a lot of things coming out, things that were better left as they were, and for a brief moment, Sarah's mind went back over the past, particularly to that squalid little flat and its occupants, that had been the start of everything.
If Sean Cartier had any sense he would settle out of court, she thought. In spite of his prejudice against her and the press in general, she couldn't see him giving them a field day, so she had the upper hand, didn't she?
Somewhat cheered by this thought, Sarah went back to considering her plans for escape. She did so want to spike his guns by getting away. Not that she would be irresponsible enough to proclaim the latest discovery; if there had been a clamp-down on it, there would be good reasons for the clamp-down, and Sarah wanted to continue with her career. Not that Sean Cartier would know this, he hadn't given her the benefit of the doubt on anything so far, only when it suited him, she thought grimly, as she recalled what had been said about Eddie Lyall's personal
life. So—if she accomplished nothing else, she would certainly give him a few bad moments, and that was worth something!
The following day Sarah was back at her post at the kitchen sink. Her legs and back had slowly recovered from the shock of physical exhaustion, and buoyed up by her inner calculations of how much all this was going to cost Sean Cartier, she worked cheerfully at her task.
That evening, she had told herself, she would take up Mrs Pullman's invitation and join them in the social hut; there just might be a glimmer of an idea to be found there concerning her cherished hope of an escape route, and she wasn't going to find it sitting in her room all evening.
By lunch time, however, she was given something else to think about, for a depressed-looking Mrs Pullman sought her out with, 'I knew it was too good to last! Mr Cartier's putting you on other work. He wants to see you in his office after lunch.' She frowned in annoyance. `I'll miss you. I don't suppose that gormless lad from the laundry that they're sending to replace you will be half as useful.'
Sarah murmured something on the lines that she was sorry, too, just as she was getting used to the work, etc., but inside she was seething. So he was going to send her to the laundry, was he? Well, that was going to cost him a few more thousands when she sued him, she thought grimly.
Shortly after two, she presented herself at Sean's office. She could have been sent straight to the laundry, couldn't she? she thought angrily,
as she tapped on the office door and awaited the summons to enter his august presence—but no, he wanted to enjoy seeing her discomfiture on learning her new position, and no matter what, she wasn't going to allow him that satisfaction, she told herself firmly.
`Ah, there you are!' Sean Cartier said breezily, as Sarah entered the office, as if she had just been passing by and he had caught her attention. He pointed to the seat in front of his desk.
Sarah glared at him, but stayed right where she was. She would rather take it standing up like a man, she thought. It shouldn't take long.
`Sit down!' he commanded. 'You're going to need a seat in a minute,' he added in an amused tone, and thrust a piece of paper which had the print-out of a cablegram on it.
Sarah took the piece of paper and perused its contents. It was addressed to her, which under the circumstances was surprising enough, but the message it contained was even more perplexing. `Congratulations. You did a good job. We'll miss you. Eddie.'
This, then, was the result of Sean Cartier's telephone conversation with her editor, but the wording was odd to say the least, and her eyes left the cablegram and rested on Sean. 'Am I supposed to know what this means?' she asked.
He grinned back at her, his white teeth gleaming against his tanned features. 'It means that as of this moment, you are no longer employed by the Daily,' he said pompously.
Sarah's eyes glinted dangerously. 'On whose say-so?' she asked quietly.
`On my say-so,' Sean replied smoothly.
A very nasty idea was forming in Sarah's mind about this time, for suddenly the word 'congratulations' floated in front of her eyes in double-spaced capitals, and there was only one reason why Eddie would have put that—she swallowed. He couldn't have gone through with that crazy idea of his, could he? She almost shook her head. Eddie wasn't born yesterday; he'd never wear that. She looked back at the man sitting in front of her, and who had never taken his eyes off. her. She had to know. 'Why the congratulations?' she asked.
`Can't you guess?' he replied, the smile now definitely wolfish. 'I think I did mention what I had in mind.'
Sarah's cheeks flamed in pure temper. So he had told that stupid story! 'Of all the ridiculous ideas!' she fumed at him. 'I gave you more credit than that.' She flung the cablegram back at him. `And I give Eddie more credit than to believe it. Is that all you wanted to see me about?' she demanded. 'I understand I'm being taken off kitchen duties. No doubt you've some other delightful work lined up for me,' she added pithily.
Sean continued to study her. 'I like you in a temper,' he said softly. 'It brings out the wildcat in you. I'm going to enjoy bringing you down to earth—you've got too exalted an opinion of yourself. All those admirers have gone to your head. Still, all that's changed from now on. You're right about the new job,' he added airily. 'I can't have my
fiancée
doing menial work, can I?'
Sarah stared at him. That wasn't the only thing she had been right about, she thought. He had lost his senses!
His eyes mocked her. 'I think you'd better sit down before you fall down,' he suggested silkily. `Yes, I did say
fiancée
. As you so rightly pointed out, your editor wouldn't have accepted a vague reference of you settling down; I had to make it more plausible. I told him that no future wife of mine would be 'expected to earn her living—also,' he paused, and his eyes narrowed as they met Sarah's wide stare, 'that I wouldn't hear of your going back without me.' He gave a mirthless smile. 'I guess your editor's just an old softie underneath that hard exterior. Said he'd known it would happen one day, and asked for an invitation to the wedding.'
Sarah did sit. Her legs did not seem able to carry her weight. She wanted to shout and scream at this man, who looked sane enough, but must be mad, shouting wouldn't get her anywhere, she thought dully, it would only give him more cause to hit out at her. Her only hope was in playing the game his way until she could get away.