It’s much more important to get these negotiations over and done with successfully.
‘I presume Salingers have their own plane?’
‘Yes. I’ve just had breakfast on board their executive jet.’ It was such a relief to be able to speak the truth that she added, ‘And pretty luxurious it is, too.’
She heard her father’s chuckle before he remarked, ‘Well, at least you’ll be travelling in style.’
Then, as she hesitated, wondering just what to tell him, he queried, ‘I take it Salingers’ car will be running you back home to pick up your passport and some clothes?’
His words sent her into a spin. Of course! She would need a passport! Why hadn’t she thought of that straight away?
Because Jared’s presence, plus all the stress and worry, had effectively scattered her wits.
But why hadn’t Jared himself realized that she couldn’t land in the States without a passport?
She felt a little thrill of satisfaction and triumph. Whatever he’d been hoping to achieve, his plan had backfired.
‘Are you still there?’ John enquired.
‘Yes, yes, I’m still here.’
‘I was saying, I assume that Salingers’ car will be running you back home to pick up some clothes and your passport?’
‘Yes, that’s right.’ Then, afraid her father might suggest that she popped in to see him, she added hastily, ‘But I’ll be very pushed for time.’
‘I don’t doubt it. Well, have a safe journey, lass, and let me know when you get there.’
‘I will,’ she promised. ‘Take care of yourself.’
She ended the call, feeling oddly shaky. It had gone much better than she had dared hope. Though she dreaded to think what the future held, for the moment, at least, her father had sounded more relaxed than he’d been for some time.
She tried to hold on to that comforting thought.
A quick calculation told her that it should be early evening in Tokyo but, feeling very alone and vulnerable, she hesitated to phone Martin in case she weakened and poured out all her worries and fears.
After all, there was nothing he could do, so what was the point of upsetting him?
The same applied to Helen.
When the other woman answered the phone, Perdita steadied herself and reeled off a brief version of the same story she had told her father.
‘It sounds hopeful,’ Helen commented. ‘And, whatever you do, don’t worry about this end. I can cope. By the way, have you talked to Martin yet?’
‘I had so much on my mind last night, I forgot to recharge my phone,’ Perdita said, glad of an excuse, ‘so my battery’s low. Will you ring him for me and explain that I’m going to the States as Mr Calhoun’s guest? Tell him I’ll be in touch later.’
‘Of course. Well, the best of luck.’
‘Thanks. I may need it.’
Aware of how heartfelt that must have sounded, Perdita sighed and dropped the phone back into her shoulderbag.
Barely a moment later the door slid aside and Jared strode in, giving the impression he always gave of having abundant energy and vitality.
Just the sight of him jolted her, making her heart pick up speed and her breath catch in her throat.
‘You’ve spoken to your father?’ he enquired with the air of a polite host.
‘Yes.’
‘I do hope you managed to reassure him?’
The false concern grated and she said coldly, ‘Why should you care?’
‘Oddly enough, I would prefer not to have his death on my conscience.’
‘Then can I suggest that trying to kidnap his daughter is going the wrong way about it.’
‘I don’t know why you insist on referring to it as kidnapping. You’re simply accompanying me as my guest, albeit a somewhat unwilling one.’
‘Guests, even “somewhat unwilling ones”, usually have some clothes with them.’
‘Don’t worry,’ he said airily. ‘From past experience I know what a beautiful body you have, and I much prefer you without clothes.’
Watching the hot colour pour into her cheeks, he added, ‘And there’s sure to be plenty of nice warm sunshine in California.’
‘California!’ she exclaimed. ‘Why California?’
‘Because I still live there.’
Just those five little words made her feel as though she were in a lift that had dropped too fast.
‘After a refuelling stop in Boston,’ he continued evenly, ‘we’ll be flying on to San Francisco…’
Then, seeing her dismay, ‘Where did you think we were going?’
‘I…I didn’t know for sure. I suppose I’d presumed it would be Salingers’ headquarters in New York.’
‘Is that what you told your father?’
‘It’s the conclusion he jumped to.’
Then, unable to keep the satisfaction out of her voice, she went on, ‘Not that it makes a great deal of difference. Wherever we’re heading for, I won’t be able to get off the plane.’
‘Really?’ he queried interestedly. ‘Why not?’
Triumphantly, she pointed out, ‘Because I can’t land in the States without my passport.’ Sweetly, she added, ‘And I’m afraid I don’t have it with me. Which leaves you with a bit of a problem.’
‘Not really.’
‘What do you mean, not really? What are you intending to do? Try and smuggle me in?’
‘My dear Perdita—’ there was mockery in his voice ‘—do credit me with a little sense.’
He felt in his jacket pocket. ‘Your passport.’
Looking at the document he was flourishing, she said, ‘I can’t deny it’s a passport, but it’s certainly not mine. Mine is at home in my bureau.’
‘That’s just where you’re wrong.’ He opened the pages to show her a picture of herself.
As she gazed at it in disbelief, he slipped it back into his pocket.
Finding her voice, she accused, ‘You’ve gone so far as to have a fake passport made!’
‘Not
