Twist of Fate Read online

  “My pleasure,” Hugh said, accepting Vicky’s handshake. He glanced down at her hand when he felt the strength of her grip but he said nothing. Instead he flicked a small, amused glance at Hannah who hid a grin.

  “Did you find the library intact?” Vicky demanded, turning to Hannah.

  “Oh, yes. It was all there. Quite a collection. I packed it up and shipped it back in boxes. The first one arrived today.”

  “When are you going to invite me over to see it?” Vicky demanded lightly. “You know I’m absolutely dying of curiosity.”

  “Maybe later when I’ve had a chance to unpack and get things in order.” Hannah was hedging and she knew it. She didn’t care. She might ultimately let Vicky browse through some of the papers and books but the other woman was never going to get her hands on the personal journals.

  “I can’t wait. I’ll give you a call later on this week.” Vicky tugged on her husband’s wrist. “Let’s go, Drake. I’m starving.”

  Drake nodded at Hannah. “Glad to see you’re back. Why did you have to cut the trip short?”

  “Something came up.”

  “I see. Have a good evening. Nice to meet you, Ballantine.”

  Hugh inclined his head politely and then turned back to Hannah. “That’s the Amazon?”

  “I sometimes think of her that way. She’s a visiting professor of anthropology and she’s been hounding me for a chance to work with my aunt’s papers and notes.”

  “Understandable, I suppose.”

  “Mmmm.” Hannah took a sip of her wine.

  “So what did cut your trip short?” Hugh asked.

  “I had a swimming accident. Nearly drowned. Kind of took the fun out of the trip.”

  “My God, I didn’t realize. No wonder you came home early.”

  Hannah thought about how much Ballantine hated Gideon Cage. Next she thought about how Hugh knew so much concerning Gideon’s activities. Then she thought about all the possible reasons why someone might have wanted to attack her that morning in the cove. The list was quite short and none of them made much sense. But one fact did stand out if one were inclined to be paranoid. She had been staying on the island with Gideon. Someone who wanted to get at Cage might conceivably have decided that Hannah would make a useful hostage to use against Gideon. What if the man in the scuba gear hadn’t intended to drown her, but merely kidnap her?

  Hannah nearly choked on her wine. As Hugh watched in concern she collected her breath and apologized.

  “Sorry about that. Went down the wrong way,” she murmured.

  “I know.”

  Paranoia was an odd thing, Hannah decided. It could be based on absolute nonsense. Ballantine and Gideon were engaged in a corporate battle of wills. Such battles took place in the boardroom, not out in the field. What was the matter with her anyway? She pushed the unsettling thoughts out of her head. Ballantine might conceivably try to tap her feelings of revenge, but that would be as far as he would go. Just to be on the safe side, Hannah decided to make one thing clear.

  “It wouldn’t do you any good, you know,” she began conversationally.

  “What wouldn’t do me any good?”

  “Look, Hugh, even if I were a woman scorned or a sister incensed, there’s not much I could do for you against Gideon Cage. The man didn’t confide any top-secret business information to me and I think you know he’s not likely to do so in the future. We have no plans to see each other again, and if we did you must realize that he’s not the kind of man to allow a woman to be a weakness for him.”

  Ballantine sighed. “It would have been worth a try. I need to find some weaknesses in him, Hannah.”

  “If you want to know how he works and where he’s weak, you should probably take a good look at yourself. The two of you are very much alike, you know.”

  Hugh gazed at her, startled. “You think so?”

  Hannah nodded. “And what’s more, Gideon knows it.”

  Ballantine blinked owlishly. “He’s wrong. But that’s something, isn’t it? Cage is very seldom wrong. Maybe I’ll eventually find a way to make that work for me.”

  Hannah groaned. “Give me nice, malleable undergraduates any day.”

  THE PHONE in Hannah’s apartment started ringing just as she closed the door behind Hugh Ballantine. Hugh had been a very pleasant date in a lot of ways. And he certainly hadn’t expected anything from her after dinner, not even a cup of coffee, she reflected as she picked up the receiver. He had deposited her very politely at her door and then departed. The perfect image of the nice, polite country boy who had moved to the city, bringing his old-fashioned country manners with him. It was hard to remember sometimes that Ballantine was from California.

  “Hello?”

  “Christ, it’s about time you got home. Is Ballantine there?”

  Hannah nearly collapsed onto the sofa at the sound of Gideon’s voice. Unconsciously her fingers went to the necklace her aunt had left her. It hadn’t done much for the dashing padded-shoulder, khaki trench dress Hannah had chosen to wear that evening, but for some reason she hadn’t wanted to remove it. She was growing accustomed to the warmth of it at her throat.

  “Gideon! I wasn’t expecting you to call. What on earth do you want?”

  “I want to know if Hugh Ballantine is there,” Gideon repeated with a patience that sounded extremely tenuous.

  “No. And if that’s all you were calling about, I guess the conversation is finished.” Hannah replaced the receiver and sagged back against the couch cushions. The phone rang angrily.

  “Someday,” Gideon began without preamble as she picked up the receiver, “I’m going to break you of this nasty habit you have of hanging up on me. It’s bad for my image. Now tell me about Ballantine. You’ve seen him?”

  “I’ve seen him.”

  “But he’s not there now?”

  “I’ve already answered that question.”

  “What did he want?”

  “What do you think he wanted, Gideon?”

  “To use you.”

  Hannah closed her eyes. “Funnily enough he implied that you might have had the same intentions. Are all you corporate gunslingers just naturally inclined to think the worst of each other?”

  Gideon swore softly. “Are all guidance counselors naturally naive?”

  “Oh, I wasn’t naive about the situation, Gideon. I explained right off that I wasn’t the femme fatale he needed to get to you. Not that it isn’t good for my ego to be told I might have a certain influence over you, of course. But I know how to draw the line between fantasy and reality. I told him I was staying out of the war.”

  “Good. So what did he say?”

  “He accepted the news like a gentleman and then he took me out to dinner.”

  “And you went with him?” Gideon exploded.

  “Had a very nice time. Look, is there anything else you wanted, Gideon? It’s getting rather late and I thought I’d do some more reading in my aunt’s journals before I go to bed.”

  “Hannah, listen to me. Stay clear of Hugh Ballantine.”

  “The only rule I’ve made is to stay out of the war. Other than that, I have no hard and fast rules. I plan to make ’em up as I go along. Good night, Gideon. And thanks for calling. It’s always nice to have a man call to thank you for a vacation fling. Makes a woman feel useful.”

  “Hannah, wait—”

  She cut him off in mid-sentence, yanking the plug out of the wall jack. Then she sat broodingly on the couch for a while thinking about the fact that the first time Gideon had bothered to call her after his return to Tucson had been for the purpose of finding out what Ballantine was up to. Obviously the man was not exactly pining away for her.

  It was unfortunate that she had been thinking about him so much during the past few days. She was determined not to pine for him.

  But the last thought Hannah had before falling asleep that night wasn’t about Gideon Cage. It was a memory of blue eyes behind a diving-mask faceplate. Eyes the same color
as Hugh Ballantine’s.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Dear Roddy has asked me to marry him. Why do I now find the prospect unappealing? A year ago I would have thought it the perfect match of minds and interests. Lately, however, I find myself questioning his motives in almost everything. This marriage proposal, for instance. While it is an honorable and gentlemanly offer, I cannot shake the knowledge that it comes so soon after notice of acceptance for publication of my paper on the Manatash Islanders. Roddy suggested that the paper be published under both our names as so many of our last papers have been written as a collaboration. I refused. Selfish, perhaps, but I feel I must establish my own reputation. I find myself wondering whether Dear Roddy believes that if we are married I will no longer have any objection to sharing authorship of my work. Surely he would not propose marriage for such purposes, would he? But there is no denying that he has been receiving less and less attention from the academic press lately, and there has been talk of revoking some of his university research funding.

  HANNAH SAT BACK in her chair, lifting her eyes from the pages of Elizabeth Nord’s journal to the square of framed tapa cloth that hung on the wall above her desk. So her aunt had gotten to the point of considering Dear Roddy’s marriage proposal and immediately began questioning it. It was clear to Hannah from her reading thus far that “Dear Roddy” was changing from a condescending mentor into a leech. His protégé was rapidly overtaking him both in ability and in academic sophistication. Hannah was a year into the journal by now and the young Elizabeth Nord was showing indications of her later brilliance and maverick independence. Such an intelligent and motivated woman would not be patient for long with “Dear Roddy.” It was no surprise that she was having doubts about accepting the offer of marriage.

  Hannah got to her feet and wandered into the kitchen for a cup of coffee. The cane remained where it was, leaning against the side of the desk. For short distances she no longer used it. Her knee was definitely improving. Perhaps it would be a good idea to join her brother’s athletic club for a while. Physical therapy was good for the leg but it was getting to be a bore going into the clinic for it. Hannah didn’t feel ill any longer and the atmosphere of the clinic was hardly cheerful.

  The sun was shining with unaccustomed intensity outside her kitchen window. Hannah glanced across the street and saw that several neighbors were taking advantage of the late afternoon warmth to frantically work in their tiny gardens. She filled the kettle and wondered if Hugh Ballantine had returned to California that morning. After last night he must know there was no real point in hanging around.

  For a few moments she allowed herself to wonder what Gideon Cage was doing. It would be interesting to know how he’d learned that his rival had come to Seattle to see her. The obvious corporate spying made her shudder. How did those two men tolerate lives of such tension and manipulation? It was clear that nothing was going to stop Hugh Ballantine. He could think only of revenge and wouldn’t be satisfied until he got it. His open, friendly face had not concealed the depths of his anger.

  Gideon, Hannah had allowed herself to hope, had reached a different point in his life, a place where he could view his situation objectively and opt out of the warfare. He seemed to understand what was happening to him and to Ballantine. But he showed no real evidence of being willing to take the risk of stepping back. Hannah had been fooling herself by thinking that he might be able to change.

  She waited for the water to boil and poured it over a heaping spoonful of instant coffee. Then, limping a little, she wandered back to her desk. The journals were fascinating and they served to take her mind off Gideon Cage. She was becoming more and more enthralled with them. She sat down at the desk, eager to see exactly how her aunt had handled Dear Roddy’s proposal.

  May eighteen. The most unusual package arrived today. It was sent by my sister in the States, who says it came in a large bundle of belongings received from the estate of our aunt Cecily. I have little recollection of Aunt Cecily but apparently she wanted me to have a certain necklace that has long been in the family. It is not a particularly beautiful or valuable piece of jewelry but I find it interesting. I also find its history quite fascinating.

  It belonged at one time to Cecily’s aunt, Anna Warrick, a mathematician in the last century. Anna did not marry. She died in 1890, leaving her estate to Aunt Cecily. Before that it seems it belonged to another ancestress, a writer of some renown. Perhaps one day I will leave it to another female relative. It is good to maintain some sense of connection with the past, and since I’m beginning to believe I will not have the time or interest in having children of my own I will have to consider carefully to whom I will someday leave my possessions. It is strange to think about such things.

  By far the most interesting news of the day is word of a small group of people living on Revelation Island. Apparently they have not yet been studied and I have requested funding from the University to do so. It would be an absolutely marvelous opportunity. Roddy is opposed.

  The phone rang and Hannah reached for it as she turned the next page in the journal. The voice on the other end was her brother’s.

  “I’m glad you called, Nick. I’ve got a favor to ask. Can you get me into your nice yuppie athletic club on a guest pass? I’m thinking of finishing my physical therapy in more stylish surroundings. I’d rather wear a snazzy little leotard than a hospital gown. Besides, you’ve got that great restaurant downstairs in the club.”

  “You just want a guest pass so that you can eat in the restaurant on a club discount.”

  “You know me so well, brother.”

  “Not well enough to guess where you were last night.”

  Hannah grimaced. “Why does everyone want to know?”

  “I don’t know why everyone else is interested but I was calling to see how my poor, limping sister was doing.”

  “Your poor, limping sister was living it up on the town. I had a date with Hugh Ballantine.”

  “Ballantine?”

  “The man who’s bound and determined to make Gideon Cage eat dust,” Hannah informed him melodramatically.

  Nick chuckled. “Well, I wish him the best of luck. I can’t say I’d spend much time crying if he succeeded. Why was Ballantine dating you, though?”

  “Good question. I think he was just checking out possibilities. He knew I’d spent a few days in the Caribbean with Gideon.”

  “Ah-hah. And Ballantine wondered if you were a secret weapon he could use to get past Cage’s defenses? I never pictured you as the Mata Hari type.”

  “You don’t have to make it sound so amusing,” Hannah said. “I might have potential you don’t know about.”

  “Do you have any potential in that direction?”

  She sighed. “You mean could I make it as a corporate spy? No. I’d burst out laughing in all the wrong places. Those men are playing such ridiculous games and they take them so damn seriously.”

  “Cage is taking Ballantine seriously? That surprises me.”

  “Seriously enough that when he found out Ballantine was in Seattle he called me to find out what was going on. First time he’s called since we parted company in Florida.”

  “Be careful, Hannah, you may find the games amusing, but I’ll bet neither Cage nor Ballantine does. I wouldn’t want to see you get crunched in the middle between those two.”

  “I’ve informed both that I’m a nonparticipant. I never was much good at games. I lack athletic prowess. Speaking of athletics…”

  “Yeah, you can have a guest pass. I’ll leave it at the front desk of the club for you. When will you pick it up?”

  “How about this afternoon?”

  “Will that give you time to buy the appropriate outfit? You can’t wander into these places wearing safari shorts, you know.”

  “Don’t worry, I’m on my way downtown to Nordstrom’s. I’m picturing something yellow and black. Does that sound snappy enough?”

  “Sounds like a giant bumble bee. Talk to you later. Got
to get back to work. I haven’t even had time to go to the club myself since Cage finished chewing up Accelerated Design.”

  Hannah winced. “Nick, about that trip I made with Gideon. Does it upset you? I mean, I know it must look rather odd, me going off with him after what he did. But I guess I told myself that what had happened between the two of you was all over.”

  “It was. And whatever I felt about Gideon Cage before you went with him changed drastically the minute I found out he’d saved your neck that morning you went swimming. Don’t worry about it from a business angle, Hannah. You’ve got other reasons to worry about getting involved with Gideon Cage.”

  “You mean Hugh Ballantine?”

  “I mean,” Nick said carefully, “that you should probably ask yourself why Gideon went with you to the Caribbean. The man likes his little victories.”

  “And you think he saw me as a way of topping off his victory over Accelerated Design?” Hannah’s fingers tightened on the telephone.

  Nick groaned. “I should have kept my mouth shut. The truth is I don’t know why he went on vacation with you. Vacations to anywhere except Las Vegas are definitely not normal for the man, from what I’ve heard.”

  “But pursuing victories is normal behavior?”

  “Yeah. On the other hand, who knows. Maybe the guy has fallen for you. Just think, Hannah, you could be the one to bring the conquering hero to his knees.”

  “Uh-huh. Not likely. Thanks for the guest pass to the club, Nick. Go back to salvaging Accelerated Design.”

  “That’s all I have time for these days.”

  Hannah hung up the phone, aware of an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach. She wanted to believe that Ballantine and Nick were wrong about the reasons for Gideon’s interest in her. There might not be much of a future with Gideon Cage but she didn’t want to believe that the past had been a lie. She didn’t want to feel used.

  Somehow she couldn’t bring herself to accept the worst possible interpretation of Cage’s actions. She remembered his uncertainty about how to deal with Ballantine, the way he had provoked her into giving him advice even though he had no intention of acting on that advice. At times there had been almost a desperation in his lovemaking, as if he wanted to forget the past and the future and concentrate only on Hannah and the moment. And in the end he had saved her life. It was difficult to believe the worst of a man who had saved your life.