John Davis - A Woman Involved

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A Pope is dead; his successor has just survived an assassination attempt; death is meted out in the South Atlantic with the explosive fury of Exocet missiles; a disgraced banker is found hanging under a London bridge; a row of US servicemen’s coffins is lined up in the Caribbean heat of Grenada …The events at first seem unconnected, but are linked by their shocking violence. And it is these events that take Jack Morgan back to the Caribbean island where the woman he was to have married, Anna Hapsburg, is fighting for survival. Morgan has been drummed out of the Navy on trumped-up charges, and Anna’s husband, Max, is deeply implicated not only in Morgan’s fll from grace, but also in an international network of shady deals that tie in with the recent events.Together, Morgan and Anna uncover a deviously camouflaged trail that will lead them to the rotten core of a worldwide conspiracy that goes to the top of the seemingly respectable governments and religious institutions …

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It was only breakfast time, too early to do anything yet. He went down to the empty bar in the garden. It was sultry-quiet. He ordered a cold beer, and just gave himself up to the delicious excitement of waiting.

He had drunk half of the beer when a voice behind him said: ‘Hullo, Jack.’

He turned, taken by surprise. ‘ Janet Nicol …

He stood up. He took her hands, grinning, and kissed her cheek. ‘What a coincidence! I was going to contact you …’

She said, ‘Not a coincidence at all. I’ve known for three days that you were coming back to Grenada.’

She sat beside him, drinking fruit juice. She said: ‘I work for British West Indies Airways, remember. BWIA has strict instructions to report if ever a Jack Morgan books a seat to our fair island.’

He was astonished. ‘Good God …’

She said: ‘Max is extremely jealous, Jack. And one of his many sidelines is that he’s a director of BWIA. And the immigration department is under instructions to report the arrival of any Mr Morgans.’

‘Good God! Does he run the Post Office as well?’

Janet did not smile. ‘Grenada is a small island. And Max has a lot of clout.’ She added significantly: ‘With the police, included.’ Before he could ask what the hell that meant she went on soberly: ‘And he’s not just a big fish in a small Caribbean pond.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘And big fish can bite.’

‘Are you saying that he’d use the police ?’

‘He might.’

Morgan said incredulously: ‘For what bloody offence? …’

She said, ‘I don’t know what he’d do. But your offence is that you’re in love with his wife.’

‘I haven’t seen Anna for five years!’

‘And they haven’t stopped having arguments about you for five years.’

He was amazed. ‘Arguments?’

Janet said, ‘Hell-fire rows. Max is obsessed with the belief that Anna is still in love with you.’

Morgan wanted to throw his arms wide to the sky in joy. ‘And? Is she?’

She ignored the question. ‘He even says that you have lovers’ trysts every time she goes to New York and London.’

He wanted to throw back his head and laugh, because she loved him. ‘ Would that we had …

Janet said: ‘That’s why he did that shark hoax. To punish her.’ She looked at him: ‘So don’t you think you should stay away from the island?’

Morgan put his hands on his chest.

‘I should stay away from the island because Max … ?’ He shook his head. ‘Look, in five years I haven’t so much as sent her a Christmas card. And I wouldn’t be here now, if you hadn’t looked me up and told me how he punishes her with shark hoaxes.’ He shook his head in wonder. ‘Why doesn’t he put detectives onto her and find out the truth?’

She said: ‘Oh, he’s done that. And had detectives following you.’

He was incredulous. ‘I don’t believe it.’

Janet said, ‘You have a grey Ford station-wagon. Three years ago you bought a farmhouse outside Plymouth. You’ve had a number of girlfriends but the last one I heard of was a blonde bombshell called Ingrid something.’ She raised her eyebrows.

He was amazed. ‘Then he knows I’ve been at sea every time she came to England.’

She said, ‘No, you spent a year ashore. With the Special Boat Service.’

Morgan was astonished. The Special Boat Service is a very secretive branch of the Royal Navy. ‘He must be out of his mind to go to such lengths.’

‘Is he?’ She gave a little smile. ‘Tell me – why have you come back to the island?’ Before he could answer, she said: ‘After all these years, you come to take his wife away from him.’

His heart turned over like a porpoise.

‘I’ve come to lay a ghost,’ he said.

Janet nodded at the sea.

‘So he’s not out of his mind, is he? He loves her, you see. Obsessed with her, if you like.’ She turned to him, ‘Like you are. And so he’s obsessed with the notion that she’s still in love with you.’

He felt his pulse flutter. ‘And? Is she?’

Janet turned back to the sea.

‘He says she dreams about you.’

Morgan stared at her. Dreams … And he felt joy.

‘How would he know what she dreams?’

‘She speaks your name.’

Morgan slumped against the bar happily. Janet went on: ‘So you should go away and not cause any more trouble and pain, Jack.’

‘Trouble? I haven’t uttered a murmur since that awful day she sent me a telegram saying she was marrying Max.’

‘You don’t know what it was like for her to send you that telegram … You don’t know the agony of indecision she went through.’ Janet sighed, and shook her head. ‘The pressure upon her – the last-minute pressure from friends and family alike to think again, was enormous.’ She turned to him earnestly. ‘She will never leave Max. She believes she’s made her bed and must lie in it. So all you can do is cause emotional confusion. And endless trouble.’

Oh God, he was so happy.

‘ And if I don’t leave, what is Max going to do? Burst in here with the police?’

She shook her head. ‘He’s not even here at the moment – he’s in New York. But don’t underestimate him.’ She paused. ‘You must leave.’

He squeezed her hand. ‘Is that the message she sent me?’

She said, ‘She’s not going to see you, Jack.’

He did not believe that. ‘But her message?’

She hesitated, then she said, reluctantly: “‘Tell him I love him. And goodbye.”’

He wanted to shout for joy. I love him … Janet sighed, as if she regretted telling him. ‘And now I must go.’

He was deliciously happy.

‘Will you give Anna a message from me?’

Janet waited, noncommittal.

‘Tell her that I’m not leaving until I’ve seen her.’

4

Oh yes, he was in love.

It seemed the longest day of his life, and the happiest. He thought through what Janet had said, and he tried to caution himself, against causing pain, against being optimistic, but he did not quite make it. He dared not leave the hotel, he dared not sleep off his jet-lag, in case she came and went while he was asleep. He sat alone at the crowded bar in the garden, slowly drinking beer, watching the hotel lobby, just feeling the excitement, of her, of being back here where she lived. Finally the sun went down, blazing red and gold through the palms; after dinner he could resist it no longer. He got into his rented car. He drove through Saint George’s, out onto the winding coastal road, through the heavy tropical foliage, past the grand houses; then he came to hers, on the seashore. He had never seen it before, but he knew the address from the telephone directory. He drove slowly past it. He stopped two hundred yards beyond. He walked down onto the beach.

The big house was across a little bay. There were lights on, twinkling between the trees. Her house. He stood, looking at it. Imagining her inside it, imagining what she was thinking and feeling; she knew that he was here, he knew what she was feeling, and with all his happiness and his yearning he willed her and willed her to come to him tomorrow. He sat on the dark beach for over an hour, just watching her house, imagining her, remembering her. Finally he drove back to the hotel, and went to bed, very tired but too happy to go to sleep easily.

That first night, five long years ago, their dinners had gone cold whilst they talked and laughed and talked. She had said:

‘Saint Thomas Aquinas will prove it to you, Jack Morgan, by pure Aristotelian logic, even if he cannot prove by logic what kind of God He is – read his Summa in Theologica. He gives five proofs of God’s existence, though it’s his third argument I like best, his Actuality-Potentiality proof of a Prime or Un-moved Mover. “And this all men call God.” No intelligent man could read that book and remain an agnostic, Jack …’

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