Europe to steel-mills in Asia, from oil in Canada to emeralds in Columbia, the company would have been impossible to operate successfully without his delegating responsibility. It was one of the things his father had taught him, after his grandfather had died of a stroke at the age of forty-nine, and he had been glad of that knowledge during the past week. Apart from anything else, he wouldn’t have trusted his own judgement in his present state of distraction, and it wasn’t fair to make mistakes when so many people’s livelihoods were involved.
‘Mr Conti!’
Sophy Ling, one of a pair of secretaries who occupied the outer office, greeted him with genuine warmth, and Alex forced a smile in response. ‘Hi, Sophy,’ he said, nodding at her and her companion. ‘Have there been any messages for me?’
Sophy looked as regretful as she felt, and Alex guessed that the news of Virginia’s disappearance had percolated throughout the whole building by this time. He had hoped to avoid the inevitable publicity it would create, and as yet he was not being accosted by reporters wanting to know what was going on. But it would come, he knew it. Which was another reason for keeping away from the Conti building.
‘Is Grant in his office?’ he asked now, avoiding any overt expressions of sympathy, and Sophy’s companion, Rose Fraser, said that he was. Grant Blaisdell was his cousin and his personal assistant, and in Alex’s absence he had been running the operation. ‘OK. I’ll be in Mr Blaisdell’s office, if you need me.’
‘Mr Conti …’
Evidently Sophy hadn’t got the message, and Alex had to steel his features as he turned to speak to her. ‘Yes?’
‘We—that is, Rose and I—we were sorry to hear about Mrs Conti,’ Sophy ventured tentatively. ‘If—if there’s anything we can do …’
‘There’s not.’ Alex managed to keep his tone pleasant with an effort. ‘But thanks anyway. It’s appreciated.’
Grant’s office adjoined the executive suite, a room only marginally smaller than Alex’s own office. Like his, it had a magnificent view over the whole of Honolulu, with the familiar sight of the Aloha Tower marking the waterfront.
Grant himself rose from behind a square mahogany desk as Alex came into the room. The son of Alex’s father’s sister, Grant owed his appearance more to his father’s New England ancestry than to his mother’s Italian forebears, and in consequence, although he was as tall as Alex, he was much lighter skinned. But since Grant had joined the company five years ago the two men had worked well together, and Alex knew his aunt was relieved that her son had finally found his niche in the Conti empire. Until then he had been employed in a variety of occupations, most of which Alex would have put under the heading of free-loading. Grant hadn’t wanted to work, and for six years after college he had wandered all around western Europe and the mainland, only coming home when he’d needed funds.
But five years ago he had had a change of heart, and Alex had not been averse to taking him on as his assistant. He was family, after all, and it just so happened that his former assistant had left at around the same time, creating an opening. Of course, Alex knew that several senior members of the board had had reservations about the appointment, but so far Grant hadn’t let him down. On the contrary, he seemed keen to learn everything he could about the corporation, and, as Alex was fond of his aunt, he was glad his reports were always favourable.
‘Alex,’ Grant said now, shaking his cousin’s hand and gesturing towards the couch set beneath the almost floor-to-ceiling windows. ‘Is there any news?’
Alex grimaced, and eschewed the offer of a seat. ‘I was about to ask you that,’ he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers. ‘I left Morales in San Diego yesterday. I haven’t heard from him since.’
‘San Diego?’ Grant’s blue eyes widened. ‘Is that where Virginia is?’
‘I doubt it.’ Alex was laconic. He felt weary, and he didn’t honestly feel up to a long discussion. ‘My guess is she’s heading for Mexico. It’s the only thing that makes any sense.’
‘Ah.’ Grant nodded, aware of what his cousin was thinking. ‘So … can I get you a drink?’
‘No, thanks.’ Alex shook his head. ‘I just called in to tell you I’m back, and that I’ll come into the office tomorrow morning. Right now I’m going to go home and try to get some rest. I feel as though I could sleep for a week.’
‘So, why don’t you?’ exclaimed Grant swiftly. ‘There’s nothing spoiling here, and I can handle anything that comes up. With Rose and Sophy on my case I wouldn’t be allowed to make any mistakes. And you do look tired, Alex. I mean it. Take a break.’
Alex took his hands out of his pockets and walked to the door. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ he said, ignoring Grant’s snort of resignation. He managed to grin. ‘There are only five years between us, cugino. I’m not ready for retirement yet.’
‘OK.’ Grant raised his hands defensively, palms outwards. ‘I guess I should know better than to try to persuade you. But, just in case you do have a change of heart, I’ll be here if you need me.’
‘Thanks.’
Alex’s inclination of the head was grateful, but faintly ironic. He had the feeling that, barring a miracle, he would make it into the office the following day. Without Maria the house was so empty, and he couldn’t bear the silent sympathy in the faces of his servants. Besides, he hated the inactivity, the sense of helplessness he felt at not knowing where his daughter was, where Virginia had taken her. At least at work he could find some escape from the fears he had for her safety.
His own office offered no more reassurance. His desk, cleared of all but his personal correspondence, looked bare and unnaturally tidy. The reports and papers that usually cluttered its leather surface had been passed to someone else to deal with, and the room seemed to emphasise the emptiness he felt. Damn it, he thought, if he could lay his hands on Virginia now he’d be tempted to wring her neck.
The phone rang as he was standing by his desk, his clenched fists balled against the wood. The sound was doubly startling in the quiet room, and he pounced on the receiver, his stomach muscles clenching. Could this possibly be Virginia? Had his rage against her somehow brought her to the phone?
It was his father, and Alex sank down into the soft leather chair that abutted his desk as Vittorio Conti’s harsh tones rang in his ears.
‘Alex? E tu?’
‘ Si, Papa. ’
Alex answered in the tongue his father always used on the telephone. It was Vittorio Conti’s belief that one never knew who might be listening in to one’s call, and in a country where English was the common language there were obviously fewer people who understood Italian. That was why he insisted that his son be as fluent in that language as he was in his own, and why Alex didn’t hesitate before responding in the same way.
Now Vittorio continued, ‘I tried the house first, but Mama Lu said you still hadn’t arrived from the airport. I guessed you must have called in to speak to Grant. Is there still no news of their whereabouts?’
‘No.’ Alex was abrupt, but he couldn’t help it. The bitter disappointment he had felt upon first hearing his father’s voice and not Virginia’s still gripped him, and it was with the utmost effort that he relayed a résumé of Morales’s
