Night Of The Condor

Night of the Condor
Sara Craven

www.millsandboon.co.uk

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Former journalist SARA CRAVEN published her first novel ‘Garden of Dreams’ for Mills & Boon in 1975. Apart from her writing (naturally!) her passions include reading, bridge, Italian cities, Greek islands, the French language and countryside, and her rescue Jack Russell/cross Button. She has appeared on several TV quiz shows and in 1997 became UK TV Mastermind champion. She lives near her family in Warwickshire – Shakespeare country.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

COVER

TITLE PAGE

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ENDPAGE

COPYRIGHT

CHAPTER ONE

THE view from her hotel bedroom window would have been panoramic, except for the fog.

Leigh could hardly believe it. Only a relatively short time ago, her plane had been circling the Jorge Chavez International Airport in brilliant sunshine. She had looked down in wondering delight at the city beneath her, and the foam-capped breakers of the Pacific Ocean beyond, with the great ridge of the Andes forcing its way to the shore like a giant, clenched fist.

Now, suddenly, it was all gone. The sunshine, the view, even the feeling of excitement and exhilaration which had filled her were all muffled under a damp, dismal blanket of grey mist.

The bell-boy who had carried up her bags had shrugged philosophically. ‘It is the garua, señorita. The curse of Lima. It comes, and when it is the will of God, it goes.’

‘I see,’ Leigh muttered. She wasn’t sure she believed in curses, or that changes in climatic conditions were necessarily the workings of Divine Providence, but at the same time she wished the sun had kept shining a little longer. The garua seemed like a bad omen, she thought, then immediately chided herself for being over-fanciful.

Activity, she told herself briskly. That’s what I need. Something to do.

She unlocked her cases, and started to hang her things away in the generous cupboard space provided. She smiled a little, as her hands touched the fabrics—silk, pure cotton, and the finest, softest wool—all her favourites, and most of them brand-new. Almost a trousseau—but then that was really the idea, she thought, her heart lifting.

This enforced separation from Evan had gone on quite long enough. She wasn’t sure what the rules regarding the marriage of foreigners in Peru were, but Evan, she was certain, would be able to find out.

She had been disappointed when he hadn’t been there to meet her at the airport, although she knew she was being unrealistic. Even supposing all the right messages had been passed along the line at all the right times, and she had been told how unlikely that was, Evan still probably wouldn’t be able to drop everything at Atayahuanco and dash to Lima to see her. She had already resigned herself to the fact that she would have to go to him instead. But if this fog was going to persist, leaving Lima would be no great hardship anyway, she told herself, grimacing.

She looked restlessly round the suite, her unpacking completed. It was comfortable, and well appointed, and she might as well make the most of it, because Atayahuanco would be the total opposite. Evan had mentioned conditions there in his letters many times, jokingly at first, then, later, with increasing bitterness and resentment. And she had felt resentful, on his behalf. Evan hadn’t deserved to be sent halfway round the world to some forgotten valley in the Andes to grub about in dirt and stone.

His only sin had been to fall in love with her, Leigh Frazier, her father’s only daughter, and heiress to Frazier Industries and the network of companies and interests it controlled.

And to Justin Frazier, a self-made man who was proud of his achievements, an intended son-in-law who had neither money nor a steady job was an affront.

‘But that isn’t his fault!’ she had raged, once Evan’s departure for Atayahuanco was inevitable, and only days away.

‘It’s not a question of fault,’ her father had returned. ‘I feel he should be given a chance to prove himself—see what he’s made of.’

‘In South America—as some cross between an archaeologist and a social worker?’ she had protested.

‘It’s a worthwhile project,’ Justin Frazier had replied tersely. ‘Evan’s a history graduate, and he’s always had a lot to say about poverty, and the dignity of labour. Well, Atayahuanco will give him a chance to study both of them at first hand.’ He paused. ‘He wants work. I’ve given it to him.’

‘There are other jobs …’

‘There could be—if this one works out.’ He stood up, a tall man with a craggy face. Evan called him formidable, and she supposed he was. ‘But not yet awhile.’ He put a hand on her shoulder, and his voice gentled. ‘You’re young, Leigh, and so is your man. You need a breathing space, both of you, before embarking on anything as serious as marriage. If you really love each other, and he’s the right man for you, then a year’s wait—eighteen months even—isn’t going to make a radical difference.’ He paused. ‘Unless you doubt him—or yourself.’

Which, of course, was unanswerable, as well as unthinkable, and he knew it.

Evan had been stoically philosophical. ‘It might not be too bad.’ He put his arms around her, drawing her close. ‘And if it convinces your father that I don’t simply see you as a meal-ticket for life, it will be worth any hassle.’

‘That’s ridiculous,’ Leigh protested hotly. ‘I don’t think my father remembers what it was like to be young.’

Evan grimaced slightly. ‘Perhaps not, but he has the right to apply some pressure if he wants to.’ He sighed. ‘I feel a bit like one of those guys in the old stories who were always being sent off on quests before they could win the princess.’

She had smiled at that, in spite of her unhappiness. She had always loved those stories. ‘What are you going to do—climb a glass mountain, and bring me back a golden apple?’

‘Maybe I will at that. After all, Atayahuanco was once an Inca citadel, and the Incas went in for gold in a big way. Perhaps I’ll find the lost treasure they hid from the Spaniards, and lay it all at your feet.’ He laughed. ‘Your father would really be impressed then.’

‘He certainly would!’ She laughed with him, but the glance she sent him was slightly troubled, just the same. ‘Evan, you do realise this isn’t a conventional archaeological dig you’re going on? It might have started out that way, but the emphasis switched a long time ago. As well as trying to build up a picture of how the Incas lived in that particular place, the team’s trying to rehabilitate the Indian families who still live there, but have lost touch with their traditional skills and lifestyle. I don’t think there’s any treasure-seeking going on.’

‘Darling Leigh!’ He kissed her. ‘You sound like a brochure for Peruvian Quest. I do know all that—my God, I should, because it’s been drilled into me ad nauseam. I’m not going to Atayahuanco with any preconceived notions about what I’m going to find there. I’m going to convince your father that I’d make the ideal son-in-law—docile, obedient, and industrious.’

Brave words, thought Leigh, as she relived the conversation, but in reality Evan had been violently shocked by the conditions in the valley. And the desperate jokiness of his early letters, outlining the squalor and hardship on the site, had soon degenerated into angry bewilderment, and a string of complaints.

His most recent letters had suggested he was near the end of his tether, and it was these which had led to her sudden decision to fly out to Peru to join him, in spite of her father’s forcefully stated opposition.

But this time, Leigh had been adamant. ‘We’ve been apart for a year. We’re of age, and we’re in love. We deserve a little happiness.’

She had faltered slightly when she realised Justin Frazier was not prepared to assist in any way with her arrangements.

‘I’m not going to ease your path for you, Leigh,’ he said flatly. ‘This whole idea is madness from start to finish. I can only hope when you get to Lima and realise the problems confronting you, your own common sense will bring you home again.’

His words had lingered uneasily throughout that interminable journey, in spite of her efforts to tell herself that when she got to Peru, happiness would be hers for the taking. But now—with Evan’s failure to show at the airport, the sheer impersonality of this hotel suite, and, most of all, the swirling sea mist outside—all her old doubts had returned.

Leigh gave herself a brief mental shake. She needed some practical stimulation. She supposed she should eat, but she was too strung up to be hungry. On the other hand, some coffee might be good. As she moved to the internal telephone beside the wide bed to call room service, it rang, startling her.

She lifted the receiver. ‘Yes?’

‘Señorita Frazier, there is a gentleman here at reception asking for you. Do you wish to come down and speak to him?’

A smile began to spread across Leigh’s face. Evan, she thought, her depression lifting miraculously. She said, ‘Ask him to come up here, por favor.’

There was a short silence, then the clerk said, ‘You are certain that is what you wish, señorita?’

‘Yes, of course,’ Leigh returned with a trace of impatience. ‘And will you arrange for some coffee to be sent up too.’

‘At once, señorita.’ The phone went down.

She sped to the dressing-table, and tugged a comb through her shoulder-length tawny hair so that it curved elegantly towards her neck. She renewed her lipstick hastily, wishing with irritation that she had changed from the clothes she had been travelling in. But the spare lines of the chic sand-coloured linen dress still looked relatively fresh, she decided, and after their long separation Evan, she hoped, would be too delighted to see her to be over-concerned about the finer details of her appearance.

She put up a hand and touched the gold chain she wore round her throat. She thought, I’m nervous. Nervous of seeing Evan again. But that’s ridiculous. It’s what I want, after all, what I came all this way for.

For one nightmare moment, she tried and failed to remember what Evan looked like, reminding herself, as panic rose inside her, that the same thing was said to happen to brides on their way to the altar.

The brisk rap on the door was a relief, cutting across the blankness in her mind. She took a deep steadying breath, as she walked across the room, and her smile was firmly back in place as she flung open the door.

She said gaily, ‘Darling, you got here at last …’ then stopped dead, because no trick of the mind could ever have turned the complete stranger confronting her into Evan.

Evan was fair, and this man was as dark as midnight—thick black hair springing back from a high forehead, a lean face, with high cheekbones, deeply tanned, the lines of nose, mouth and chin all forcefully, even harshly marked. He was tall, long-legged, and broad-shouldered, dressed in denims, with a worn leather jacket slung carelessly across one shoulder.

Leigh said sharply, ‘Who are you? What do you want?’

He gave her an unsmiling look. ‘It might have been wiser to have established that before inviting me to your room, Miss Frazier. Do you usually behave so recklessly in a foreign country?’

She said glacially, ‘I was expecting my fiancé.’

‘My regrets for your disappointment.’ He neither looked nor sounded even slightly regretful. ‘I presume you had some reason to believe he would meet you here?’

Leigh’s chin tilted. ‘May I know what business this is of yours, Mr … er …?’

‘Rourke Martinez,’ he said. ‘And it’s “Doctor”, Miss Frazier.’ He looked at her drily. ‘I see the name is familiar to you.’

Oh, she had heard of him all right, Leigh thought faintly. Most of Evan’s discontent had been centred on this man. ‘Everyone defers to him,’ he had written shortly after his arrival. ‘He stalks round the camp behaving as if he was one of the ancient Incas with the power of life and death over us all. Even Fergus Willard, who’s technically in charge, does as he tells him.’

Knowing that her instinctive reaction to his name had given her away too thoroughly to warrant a denial, she gave a slight shrug. ‘I believe Evan has mentioned you, Doctor Martinez, yes.’

‘I’m sure he has.’ He sounded faintly amused. ‘And not in any flattering terms either, unless I miss my guess. Now that my identity has been established, are you going to invite me in? Or would you prefer this interview to be conducted in one of the reception areas downstairs?’

‘Arrogant bastard’ had been another of Evan’s descriptions, and it seemed perfectly justified, Leigh thought, her hackles rising.

Down the corridor, the lift doors opened, and a white-coated waiter emerged, with a tray of coffee. The coffee which she had ordered. And although there was nothing she wanted less than to have to invite Rourke Martinez into her suite, she could see that to object would cause unnecessary complications, and probably make her look foolish into the bargain.

She said abruptly, ‘You’d better come in,’ and turned back into the suite.

The waiter deposited the tray where she indicated on the table by the window, and stood waiting for the inevitable tip. Rourke Martinez provided it with a brief word in Spanish, but not before the waiter sent Leigh an infuriating leer, shared equally between herself, the open door to the inner room, and the big bed which suddenly seemed to dominate it.

She was aware she was flushing angrily, as she pulled forward a chair and sat down. ‘Coffee, Doctor Martinez?’

‘Black, please.’ He took the cup she handed him, with a word of thanks, then leaned back in his own chair, very much at ease. Then he said quietly, ‘What are you doing here, Miss Frazier? Why have you come?’

‘To join my fiancé. I should have thought that was obvious.’ His whole attitude needled her, making her speak more sharply than she would normally have done. ‘Is it any concern of yours?’

‘As he’s employed on the Atayahuanco project, and I happen to be its co-director, then I’d say I was concerned,’ he said grimly. ‘May I ask who authorised you to come here? I certainly didn’t, and nor did Doctor Willard. By the time we received notification of your arrival, it was too late to turn you back.’

‘I wasn’t aware you had any right to do so.’ Leigh was rigid with shock and temper. She set her cup down carefully, to avoid hurling it at him.

‘We have any rights in this that we choose to assume, Miss Frazier,’ Rourke Martinez said almost casually. ‘Our work at Atayahuanco is difficult enough, without deliberately inviting additional problems in the shape of random visitors.’ His eyes skimmed her, indicating silently but unmistakably that the shape of this particular random visitor failed to impress him in any way. He went on, ‘Your arrival seems to indicate one of two things—either you expect Evan Gilchrist to join you here in Lima, or that you expect to go to Atayahuanco to be with him.’ He paused. ‘I’m afraid that neither possibility is acceptable.’

Leigh sat up very straight in her chair. She said, ‘Doctor Martinez, I don’t think you realise …’

‘Exactly who I’m talking to?’ he finished for her. ‘Yes, I do, Miss Frazier. I’m well aware that it’s a charitable trust set up by Frazier Industries which provides most of the financing for our project. I’m also aware that you probably consider that gives you carte blanche to do as you wish here.’ He paused again. ‘Well, I’m here to tell you you’re wrong, and to give you some advice.’

She smiled icily, controlling her temper with an heroic effort. ‘Am I supposed to be grateful?’

‘That’s up to you,’ he said. ‘But for what it’s worth, I suggest you get the next available flight back to the United Kingdom. This is no place for you, and I’m surprised your family didn’t tell you so.’ He gave her another assessing look. ‘Or did they?’

‘I happen to be an adult, Doctor Martinez,’ Leigh said loudly and clearly. ‘I do as I want.’

‘Not,’ he said, ‘a particularly adult point of view. But let that pass. Is Gilchrist meeting you here?’

‘Perhaps you’d like to tell me,’ she said, heavily sarcastic. ‘You seem to rule the roost at Atayahuanco. Have you graciously given Evan permission to meet me?’

‘No.’

‘No, of course not.’ She stared at him defiantly. ‘And now I’m supposed to confess my fault, and grovel, right?’

He shrugged. ‘It would make little difference if you did. Evan Gilchrist walked off the project some forty-eight hours before we got the radio message announcing your imminent arrival.’ He paused. ‘Indicating that he already knew you were coming, and had gone to meet you. But, for various reasons, I wasn’t convinced.’

Leigh’s mouth was dry. She picked up the cooling coffee, and drank some of it. At last she said, ‘He—he didn’t know I was coming. I didn’t mention it in my last letter. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision …’ She was silent for a moment. ‘Did he give no idea where he was going?’

‘We had no idea he was even leaving,’ Rourke Martinez told her. ‘He took some provisions and a mule, and vanished in the night. There was no need to have done that, no matter how much he hated Atayahuanco and everything connected with it. If he’d given some indication that he wanted out, he could have flown out on the supply helicopter with me yesterday.’ He sent her a lightning glance. ‘He wasn’t that much of an asset.’

She flushed again. ‘Of course, you would say that. I’m sorry Evan’s best was never good enough for your exacting standards, Doctor Martinez.’

‘Is that what he told you?’ He sounded amused again. ‘I wasn’t aware we’d ever seen his best, but it was difficult to look beyond the outsize chip he had on his shoulder.’

She glared at him. Other phrases of Evan’s were coming back to her: ‘Intolerant swine’ and ‘a real slave-driver’. She could believe all of them. ‘Have you made any attempt to find him? Sent out a search-party?’

‘He’s not a child, Miss Frazier.’ What curious eyes he had, she thought irrelevantly. Deeply set beneath strongly arched black brows, they were a strange colour between brown and gold almost like topaz. Eyes like a jungle cat’s, she thought with a little inward shiver.

Rourke Martinez went on, ‘He knows what the dangers are, or he should do by now. He’s been warned often enough—about all kinds of things.’

She looked at him incredulously. ‘And on the strength of that, you’re prepared just to—write him off?’

‘Your fiancé seems to have a strong sense of self-preservation,’ he said rather drily. ‘I suspect he’ll need it. In the mean time the best thing you can do is get back to the U.K. and wait for the eventual happy reunion there.’

The coffee tasted bitter, and she slammed her cup back into its saucer.

‘Thanks, but no, thanks,’ she said grittily. ‘Evan is missing, and I’ve no intention of going tamely back to Britain while such a situation continues. Even if you’re not sufficiently concerned about your staff to worry about his safety, I am, and I’m coming up to Atayahuanco right away to instigate some kind of search. Please be good enough to make the necessary arrangements.’

He actually had the gall to laugh.

‘Thus speaks the autocrat,’ he said mockingly. ‘I expect you’re a riot on your home ground, Miss Frazier, keeping everyone on the run. But not here. Here, you have no authority.’ He paused. ‘Short of marching you to the airport, and actually putting you on the plane, I can’t force you out, of course.’

‘I’m glad you appreciate that!’

‘But I’m wondering what you appreciate.’ The topaz eyes narrowed thoughtfully. ‘I have to warn you, Miss Frazier, for your family’s sake, if not your own, that Lima is not a safe city for a girl on her own, especially when the girl’s a spectacular-looking gringa like yourself.’ His gaze rested on the small gold hoops in her ears, the heavy links of her necklace, her watch on its slender bracelet. ‘And one so evidently blessed with this world’s goods too.’

‘I don’t need your warnings,’ Leigh flashed. ‘And if your peculiar remarks were intended as some kind of compliment, I can do without that too!’

‘No compliment, merely an observation.’ Shrugging, he pushed back his chair, and got to his feet. ‘Well, stay here in Lima, if you’re really so determined, but remain in the vicinity of the hotel, if you have any sense. No doubt Daddy will send some minion to bail you out, if you really get into trouble. You’re not my responsibility, thank God.’

‘You utter bastard,’ Leigh said unevenly.

‘And harsh words don’t impress me either,’ he said coolly. ‘Did no one ever wash your mouth out with soap when you were a child, Miss Frazier, because if not they missed a golden opportunity. And a sound hiding applied to your pampered backside wouldn’t come amiss either. What a pity Gilchrist isn’t man enough to administer it!’

‘How dare you,’ Leigh was almost choking, ‘speak to me—speak about Evan like that …’

He laughed. ‘Why, are you going to tell me I’m not fit to lick his shoes, or some other cliché like that? Well, keep your illusions, Miss Frazier. If your wandering boy should wander back in our direction, I promise I’ll scoop him up and deliver him to you here. You’re entirely welcome to each other.’

She was trembling, her hands balled into impotents fists at her sides.

‘Get out of here! Get out of here now!’

‘Gladly,’ he said. ‘Now that I’ve made the situation clear to you once and for all.’

‘Oh, you have,’ she said icily. ‘And now I’ll make something clear to you—Doctor Martinez. When I get back to England, I’m going to tell my father every detail of your behaviour—raisesome questions about whether you’re a fit person to be in charge of the Atayahuanco project at all, in fact. You seem to be totally lacking in consideration and—and compassion!’

Rourke Martinez shrugged. ‘Try it,’ he advised shortly, ‘and see how far it gets you. Your father’s no fool, and in spite of your brave, independent words, it’s my guess that you’re out here against his wishes also. So don’t blame me if he doesn’t share your sense of outrage. Here, Miss Frazier, you are not the centre of the universe, and your father might even be grateful that someone’s pointed this out to you at last.’

The topaz eyes travelled over her in one last searing look, then he walked to the door and went out.

She wanted to scream, Leigh realised incredulously. She wanted to lie down and drum her heels on the carpet, and yell until she was hoarse.

She couldn’t believe what had happened. This man—a stranger—had treated her as if she were of no account.

And it was infuriating that he had homed in on her battle of wills with her father. She found herself wondering if Justin had contacted Peruvian Quest, the umbrella organisation under which the Atayahuanco project was sheltered, and requested they make things as difficult as possible for her. He was quite capable of it, she thought furiously.

She walked into the bedroom and threw herself across the bed, staring into space.

She had handled that confrontation badly, she knew, but learning of Evan’s disappearance like that had thrown her completely.

Her heart ached for Evan. She realised she hadn’t fully comprehended the problems and difficulties he had encountered at Atayahuanco, or the depth of his wretchedness, but meeting Rourke Martinez had made a great deal clear to her.

He had obviously realised that Evan was less than wholehearted about the project, and resented having him foisted on to it. But that wasn’t Evan’s fault, she thought angrily. If anyone was to blame, it was her father, who should have known he was asking the impossible.

And now Evan was heaven knows where with a mule and a few supplies. He could be lost. He could be injured, she thought, biting her lip savagely, as a pang of fear tore through her. He must have been really desperate to have taken such a risk, because none of his letters had expressed the slightest interest in exploring the hostile terrain around him.

That was, of course, if Evan had really gone off at all. She sat up abruptly. After all, she only had that abominable swine’s word for it, and who was to say he wasn’t simply following her father’s instructions to deter her.

Well, if her father thought she was going tamely back to Britain with her tail between her legs, he was mistaken. Come hell or high water, she was going to get to Atayahuanco somehow. She was going to check primarily whether Evan had really disappeared, and if so, to insist on a full-scale effort to find him.

Her lips curved in a brief cat-like smile. After all, Rourke Martinez was not the only arbiter on the project. There was Fergus Willard too. The Frazier name was bound to count for something with him. And if she managed to get his permission to make the trip to Atayahuanco, there would be nothing the Martinez man could do about it.

Or she could simply arrive there, she thought. It wouldn’t be an easy trip, but she couldn’t imagine she would be turned away once she had managed the journey.

She gave a determined nod. Tomorrow she would go to the Peruvian Quest offices and make radio contact with Fergus Willard. Once she had won him over, it would just be a question of hiring the best guide, and the best transport her money could obtain.

She squared her shoulders. But if she had to fight every battle alone, then she would do so. And Rourke Martinez—or anyone else for that matter—would not defeat her.

She swallowed suddenly, remembering with painful clarity those last contemptuous words he had flung at her.

I’ll make him sorry, she vowed silently. I’ll make him sorry he was ever born!