"Yes?" she said hesitantly into the wall
speaker.
"Virginia, it's Clarissa," the voice outside
was weak and tearful. "Please, let me in."
"Clarissa?" Virginia tried to hide the anger
from her voice. She could never be sure that Morgan hadn't sent
Clarissa to her for some unimportant errand. Morgan never called
first. Morgan would never be that courteous to his private
secretary. Virginia smothered the indignation. "Is something
wrong?"
"Please, just let me come in," Clarissa
begged. "Please."
Morgan hadn't sent her. Virginia was certain.
This was something else. Clarissa had probably wrecked the car or
something and didn't want to face Morgan. Well, she could just take
her licks.
"It's late and I'm busy right now."
"Please, Virginia, I have to talk to you. It's
an emergency."
There was a long silence. Logic fought its way
through Virginia's hostility. If Clarissa did have a minor problem
and it got back to Morgan that she didn't help her, Virginia would
be the one to feel his wrath. Reluctantly, Virginia pushed the
button that opened the downstairs security door.
"Come up then. You remember where it is?
Seventh floor. Number seven twelve."
Clarissa almost screamed with relief when the
buzzer went off and the glass door yielded under her weight. The
city had become an alien wilderness with one danger, Marco
Camponello. Her luck to escape him twice had held, but that luck
could not hold out much longer.
Already the terrifying suicide run toward the
train seemed hours ago. As she got into the oak paneled elevator
car Clarissa shuddered at the narrow escape. She had wanted to die
then, at that moment, rather than at the hands of Marco. There had
been no way out, no solution, no exit. There was just the massive
hulk of the engine, the gunshots and the blown tire, the train
barreling down on her, filling the Jag's windshield. She remembered
losing control of the steering wheel and the car spinning wildly.
There was empty track and dark buildings and Marco standing up in
the Cadillac. Then around again toward the approaching train
engine, the one brilliant light illuminating the interior of the
car, blinding Clarissa for a second, then darkness
again.
She squeezed her eyes shut and steeled herself
against the final impact. The train whistle scorched her ears, and
she let go of the steering wheel to clamp her hands over them. Her
body vibrated with the thundering on the tracks and was suddenly
jolted and thrown hard against the door. There was a scream of
tearing metal and the sharp crack of splitting wood, and a renewed
sensation of spinning. Then stillness and the clattering of the
freight cars passing.
Clarissa jolted awake as the elevator doors
slid silently open.
Virginia took a deep breath, controlled her
hostility, and pulled open the front door. Her face remained a mask
of indifference but inside she was grinning. Clarissa looked a
mess. There was a welt on her cheek, her makeup was smeared as if
she'd been crying, her black cocktail dress was wrinkled and torn
at the hem, and she was missing a couple of acrylic nails. Whatever
she had been doing, Morgan was going to be in a rage. Virginia
stepped aside and Clarissa entered the spacious living
room.
"Sit down, please," Virginia invited. "Tell me
what happened."
The decor was overstuffed Southwestern in
pastels, with Western Indian art on the walls. A feathered Cree
prayer wheel, done in tan suede and heavily beaded, dominated the
front of the rock fireplace.
Clarissa sat on the edge of the sofa, nervous
and looking over her shoulder as if she half expected Marco or Alex
to be hiding in the bedroom. Virginia curled herself up on an
overstuffed armless chair, tucking her feet under her and stared at
Clarissa for what seemed to be an eternity. When she spoke, her
voice betrayed none of the cynicism and contempt that she felt. She
was once again in the role of Morgan Wolfe's perfect executive
secretary.
"So did you lovers have a spat?"
"Morgan tried to kill me," Clarissa ventured
carefully, waiting and searching Virginia's face for a reaction.
There was none.
"I see," was her dead reply. "Would you like
some herb tea, Clarissa?"
"He tried to kill me."
"What did he do, smack you? Not that you don't
deserve a good spanking. What was this fight about? You didn't like
the necklace?"
Clarissa took a firm hold on her anger and met
Virginia's cold eyes. She had never met a woman so distant,
ice-like, and insensitive. Virginia had a classic beauty and grace
that Clarissa envied. She could see the Indian heritage in
Virginia's high cheekbones and raven hair, mixed with creamy smooth
skin and Irish green eyes. There was a deadly calm about the
secretary, unruffled and efficient. One would have to be that way
to work for someone as demanding as Morgan Wolfe and Virginia had
lasted ten years.
"We didn't fight," said Clarissa.
"Well, Morgan can be difficult at times,"
Virginia replied. "My advice is to go home and make up. That's the
best part of a relationship. Making up."
"He killed a man tonight," Clarissa said
quietly. "I saw it from my bedroom window."
Virginia's face remained a mask of
indifference but she was very quiet for long moment. She had no
reason to doubt Clarissa. The pain and fear in her amber eyes were
proof enough. The fact that she had eluded Morgan this long and
stayed alive was a testimony to this girl's tenacity or just blind
luck. Virginia smiled through iron eyes, a veiled smile that was
lost to Clarissa. Morgan had blundered. He had let a witness
escape. Morgan rarely made such a mistake. His hands were always
clean. Virginia's mind reeled with the possibilities.
"Tell me everything," she demanded.
"Marco shot and killed Byron Roth," Clarissa
began. "The art gallery owner."
"Who else was there?"
"Morgan, Marco and Alex Rogers," Clarissa
explained.
"And you, Clarissa?"
"I had nothing to do with it," said Clarissa
angrily. "The Mercedes wouldn't start. I went back into house for
the keys."
"You couldn't get back inside," said Virginia.
"Morgan secures the house before his business meetings. No one gets
inside until he's done. No one ever has. I think you're lying to
me."
"I swear to you I'm not. All of the doors were
locked except for the French doors to Morgan's office. It was
locked but not shut all the way."
"There's an alarm on that door," Virginia
probed. "How did you get past that?"
"There was no alarm," Clarissa protested. "I
just walked into the office. There was no sound, no noise,
nothing."
"It's silent," said Virginia. "Shows up on the
monitors in the security office out back. Go on, what happened
next?"
"I couldn't find the Jaguar keys in Morgan's
desk so I went up to the bedroom. I found them on Morgan's bureau.
I turned out the bedroom light and was about to go back downstairs
when I heard a terrible fight coming from the pool area. I went to
the window and saw.....I saw Morgan order Marco to
shoot...."
Virginia handed Clarissa a box of tissues from
a drawer in one of the low end tables.
"You actually heard Morgan tell Marco to shoot
Byron Roth?" Virginia asked.
"Yes," Clarissa fought for composure. She did
not intend to tell Virginia every detail but she couldn't help
herself. It came pouring out of her as if released by flood gates.
She needed to talk, to rid herself of the pent up terror of the
past several hours. It was a tremendous risk even coming here. The
fact that she was here jeopardized her life. It would do her no
good to hold back now. She had to trust that once Virginia knew
what kind of a monster she worked for, that she would help
Clarissa.
"So Marco did the hit, then what?"
"Morgan looked up and saw me in the window,"
Clarissa's lip quivered. "I had left the hall light on. That was
stupid. I was so damn stupid."
She let the tears flow, not ashamed to cry in
front of Virginia. Clarissa needed a clear head to stay alive and
the more she talked and released emotions, the calmer she became.
Virginia had not moved or made comments except to fold and unfold
her arms across her chest and stare at Clarissa with varying
degrees of intensity.
"How did you get out of the house?"
Clarissa told her in detail how she had hid
from Morgan, her escape from the guest room, and how she crashed
the Jaguar into the train to try to kill herself rather than let
Marco have her. Virginia listened expressionlessly. When Clarissa
finished, Virginia excused herself, saying they both needed herb
tea. Clarissa was left alone while Virginia was busy in the
kitchen.
Clarissa leaned back on the sofa and closed
her eyes. She had told the complete truth, every detail of it. Now
she felt empty and drained, her limbs heavy with exhaustion. Her
shoulder throbbed painfully and her side ached if she moved. Her
head pounded and her eyes burned with fatigue. It was an effort to
stay awake. It would be wonderful to just sleep, to shut out the
past hours and wake up to her life before the murder. Clarissa let
herself sink into the plush white marshmallow-like cushions and
welcomed the billowing gray fog of drowsiness that filled her. Let
them come for her. At least now, someone else knew what had
happened at the house. She was not alone.
Virginia filled the china tea pot with
chamomile tea while water heated in a pan on the stove. Her hands
worked automatically, her mind worked with lightning speed.
Virginia held power in her hand. Fragile, volatile, very dangerous
power. She had something that Morgan Wolfe wanted desperately. She
had his one and only witness complete with financing. This mistake
of Morgan's would cost him dearly, possibly ruin him. His hands
were finally stained with blood. Virginia could save him or destroy
him.
Hate wrestled with love, a love that would
never be fulfilled. Her reward for bailing him out of this would be
the same aching, starving love, ending only when Morgan had no more
use for her. Nothing would change. Ruin would break the chains.
Morgan's destruction would release her from the torment. It would
do what her weak emotional strength could not. It would set her
free. The jewelry Clarissa wore would bring enough capital to
finance her escape.
Her hand shook slightly as she poured the hot
water into the teapot and a few drops splattered on her wrist. The
pain was a grim reminder of who she was dealing with. She had to be
extremely careful. There was no margin for error. The slightest
miscalculation would cost her her own life.
She brought the tray into the living room and
shook Clarissa gently awake.
"Drink this," Virginia offered the teacup to
Clarissa. "It'll calm you. You've had a bad scare. Look, I know
Morgan. Don't think I don't know what kind of man he is or that his
ways are not always on the right side of things. He gets what he
wants and he gets it his way. Always. I have never known him to
fail. He's powerful, Clarissa, and his ways are not always legal or
ethical. Nevertheless, he succeeds. For some reason you've managed
to escape his web. I have known some of his associates that have
tried to get out from under Morgan. They ran for a couple of days
or even a couple of months. Morgan always got what he wanted from
them. All of them."
"Are they all dead?"
"Of course not," Virginia replied. "He doesn't
go around murdering all of his business associates. Not even the
ones who steal from him. I’m sure some wished he would have .Some
of them, well, let’s just say that can’t function like they used
to. He puts a fear in them they don't ever forget. Then he gets
exactly what he wants from them. Don't ask me how. I'm not
privileged to know the details. I have seen them before and after.
When he's sucked them dry of everything."
"He killed Avery Roth, too" Clarissa argued,
"and made it look like a robbery attempt. I heard Byron accuse
Morgan of the murder."
"Then they had something on Morgan," Virginia
leaned back in the overstuffed chair and sipped her tea
thoughtfully. "Whatever they found out got them killed. I wonder
what they had. Morgan is extremely careful."
"I don't have a chance, do I?"
Virginia put her cup down on the coffee table
and stared at Clarissa. "I can help you. You have to do everything
I say. I haven't worked for Morgan for a decade without learning
something of the man. The chance is slim and extremely dangerous. I
can't promise that Morgan won't find you or guarantee any
protection if he does. I can't guarantee you anything. You must
give me your complete trust. Will you do that?"
"I have a brother in the Middle East," said
Clarissa. "He's works for an American oil company there. I need to
contact him. He'll sent me a plane ticket. I just need to stay here
a couple of days until he can wire the ticket or some money. Will
you let me stay?"
"That would be too dangerous for both of us.
You have to trust me, Clarissa, if you want to stay alive. Promise
me you will do what I say or I can't help you at all."