Dr. Levi came on the line after a brief delay. He had a soft, soothing voice and was always deferential as if addressing royalty when he spoke to her.
‘So happy to hear you arrived safely, Mrs. Rolfe,’ he said. ‘You must be exhausted. Can I do anything? A tranquillizer, perhaps?’
She knew him to be the most expensive and most brilliant doctor in Paradise City and she knew he was enormously rich and his deference to the name of Rolfe irritated her.
‘Could you come up, doctor?’
‘Of course.’
He arrived soon after the waiter had brought the smoked salmon sandwiches and a shaker of vodka martini.
‘A drink, doctor?’ she asked.
‘Thank you, no. But sit down, Mrs. Rolfe. You have had...’
‘Yes.’ As she sat down, she looked at him: a tiny, bird-like man with a hooked nose, rimless glasses, a dome of a forehead. ‘Tell me about my husband.’
Dr. Levi sat down. He, like her, was a professional. He, like her, spoke directly.
‘Mr. Rolfe is sixty-eight,’ he said quietly. ‘He insists on working at a tremendous pressure. At his age and in his condition, it is time to call a halt: for him to relax and to give what remains of his body a chance to recuperate, but Mr. Rolfe continues to drive himself. For the past three weeks he has been setting up a deal that would test the fittest of men, let alone an elderly cripple. Now he flies from New York to here.’ Dr. Levi paused and shrugged. ‘The fact is, Mrs. Rolfe, your husband is in very poor shape but refuses to admit it. My advice to him is to return to the comforts of his home and cut off all work and do nothing except laze in the sun for at least three months.’
Helga reached for another sandwich.
‘No one has ever been able to stop him working.’
Dr. Levi nodded.
‘Yes. That is why I am leaving this afternoon. I have less important patients to look after, but more deserving. They will accept my advice whereas your husband won’t. I am speaking in strict confidence. If your husband continues to work as he is doing, he will die.’
‘So long as he is happy... does it really matter?’ Helga asked.
Dr. Levi stared at her, then nodded.
‘There is that. Yes, when one reaches his age, is in continual pain and crippled, then I suppose...’ He spread his hands.
‘As his wife I am concerned. Will you please be frank with me? Can he last long?’
She realized as soon as she had said this that she had been voicing her secret thoughts and regretted what she had said, but Dr. Levi appeared to understand.
‘He could die tomorrow. He could die next year. Give and take, I would say perhaps he has six months in which to live unless he gives up working and completely relaxes.’
‘But he is relaxing now, doctor.’
‘No. He is constantly on the telephone. He is constantly getting telegrams, cables, telex messages and so on. Even here, he is directing his empire.’
‘This is something neither you nor I can do anything about.’
‘That is correct. I have warned him. He brushes my advice aside so, this afternoon I am returning to Paradise City.’
When he had gone, she thoughtfully finished the sandwiches. She drank another vodka martini. When Herman dies, she thought, I will inherit sixty million dollars and I will be free to do just what I like. I can have any man I want... when he dies!
Slightly drunk, feeling confident, she telephoned Hinkle.
‘Does Mr. Rolfe know I have arrived?’
‘Yes, madame. He is expecting you. It is the third door on the left as you leave your apartment.’
She went to the mirror and regarded herself. Herman was very critical about a woman’s appearance. Satisfied, she picked up the leather portfolio containing the damning accounts and bracing herself, she left the room.
She found her husband in his wheel chair, in the full glare of the sun. The vast terrace, its view, the sun umbrellas, the boxes of gay flowers and the bar were all symbols of his power and wealth.
As she crossed the terrace, she looked at him: an alarmingly thin body, balding head, thin pinched nostrils, lipless mouth. The black sun goggles made her think of a dressed up skull.
‘Ah, Helga...’ His usual cold greeting.
‘Well...’ she sat down fairly close to him but in the shade of an umbrella. She found the Nassau sun, after the Swiss sun, a little overpowering.
They spoke trivialities: she inquiring about his health, he inquiring, without interest, about her flight. He told her he wasn’t feeling too well, but that fool Levi always made a mountain out of a molehill. Neither of them believed what he said.
After this empty skirmishing, he said abruptly, ‘You have something to tell me?’
‘Yes.’ She braced herself. ‘Jack Archer has turned out to be an embezzler and a forger.’
She looked directly at him, expecting an explosion, but there was no change of expression. How she wished there had been! If he had even stiffened, changed colour, she would feel he was human, but the skull-like face remained skull-like.
‘I know that.’ His voice was harsh. ‘Two million.’
A chill crept up her spine.
‘How can you possibly know?’
‘Know? It is my business to know! Have you imagined that I don’t cheque on everything that concerns my money?’ He raised a thin hand. ‘Archer stole intelligently. Mobile. Transalpine. Nacional Financial. Chevron. Calcomp. Hobart and General Motors. At least, thief as he is, he showed intelligence.’
When he had tried to blackmail her, Archer had assured her that Rolfe wouldn’t know what bonds, what shares he had stolen. He had told her that Rolfe’s portfolio was so vast he wouldn’t miss the certificates and she had believed him. Crushed, she sat silent, looking down at the leather portfolio that now contained no secrets.
‘So Archer is a forger and an embezzler,’ Rolfe went on. ‘It happens. I misjudged the man. I take it he forged your signature?’
Feeling utterly defeated, Helga said, ‘Yes.’
‘I should have thought of that possibility. There should have been a third signature. We will write this off as an experience.’
She stared at him bewildered.
‘But you will prosecute him?’
His head turned. The black goggles were directed at her.
‘Fortunately, I can afford not to prosecute. Two million? To many it is a large sum but fortunately to me, it isn’t. Of course, I have already arranged that Archer will never ever get a responsible job again. He will find life much harder and more depressing than serving a term in jail. From now on, no one will touch Archer. He will join the ranks of the shifty, the shoddy and the fringe people.’
Helga sat motionless, her heart beating unevenly, sure that there was more behind this act of so-called mercy... not to prosecute.
Finally, she said, ‘I was sure you would prosecute.’
He nodded.
‘I would have prosecuted but for one thing.’ His head turned, the goggles pointed away from her. ‘I have been informed that before our marriage you were Archer’s mistress. I have been advised that if I prosecute Archer, this sordid fact will become public. Archer could sully you in court. I am prepared to forgo the satisfaction of jailing him to protect you and myself from scandal.’
Her mind went back to that moment when he had asked her to marry him.
He had asked, ‘Does sex mean a lot to you?’ Then he had gone on, ‘I am a cripple. I am asking you if you are prepared to give up a normal sex life to become my wife. When we marry, there must never be any other man... never a breath of scandal. That is something I will not tolerate. If you cheat, Helga, I will divorce you and you will be left with nothing. Remember that. If you remain faithful to me, I will give you a fulfilled life. There are many compensations which I have discovered that can replace sex. If you are prepared to accept this condition then we can be married as soon as I can make the arrangements.’