Vicious Circle by Wilbur Smith Page B

when and where can we meet?’
    ‘I will be free after six o’clock this afternoon. I understand that you live out of town. Unfortunately I am without transport…’
    ‘I can come to you at the Ritz.’
    ‘Yes, that would be very convenient.’
    He worked all the rest of the day, making phone calls and receiving them; clearing up all the paperwork on his desk. A few minutes after one o’clock he went down to the wet room and slipped on his waders, then picked up his fly rod from the rack and went out to the river. There was a good fish rising under the trailing willow branches in Honeymoon Pool, which Hazel had named while they sat on the bank holding hands.
    The fish was in a difficult position to reach with a cast from this bank. But Hector tied on a Daddy Longlegs dry, and with his third cast he achieved a perfect drift over the trout’s lie. It came up in a flashing roll, all silver and crimson, and he set the hook. For fifteen minutes he thought of nothing but the fish as it charged wildly about the pool. When at last he had it laid out on the bank he knelt over it for a moment admiring its elegant lines and shimmering beauty, then he put it to rest with a sharp blow of the priest, the small stag-horn club with which the angler administers the last rites. The chef grilled it with wild mushrooms, and Hector ate lunch on the terrace.
    After he had eaten he changed into a dark business suit and ordered the Bentley again. He liked driving it. It handled sweetly. He stopped over at the hospital and spent a stolen hour with Catherine.
    She was getting more beautiful every day, he decided. When he was finally evicted from Maternity he went to see Doctor Naidoo.
    ‘When will you be able to discharge my daughter, Doctor?’
    The doctor studied Catherine’s file. ‘She is doing very well. Have you made arrangements for her to be cared for, Mr Cross?’
    ‘Yes, I have.’
    ‘Yes, you have indeed. I understand you have hijacked one of my best nurses.’
    ‘Guilty as charged,’ Hector admitted.
    The doctor looked sorrowful. ‘Okay. I am going to discharge your daughter tomorrow morning after my ward rounds. You can sign for her and take her away.’ As he walked out into the car park, Hector felt strangely elated at the prospect of having that tiny scrap of humanity being given into his care. Catherine was all he had left that was truly part of Hazel.
    He took the London road.
    *
    Hector handed over the Bentley to the doorman at the side entrance to the Ritz and he ran up the steps to the hotel lobby. He paused in front of the concierge’s desk. There were three or four guests ahead of him waiting to see the concierge and he took his place at the back of the line. He glanced casually around the grand lobby and into the lounge.
    The sacrosanct ritual of British afternoon tea was in full swing and the tables in the hotel lounge were almost all taken. Sitting on her own at a table facing the lobby was a woman. As his eyes passed over her, she stood up and looked directly at him. His gaze darted back to her. She was tall and strikingly beautiful. Her hair was glossy black, with russet highlights. Her eyes were wide set in a heart-shaped face. Even across the lounge he could see that they were green, sea-green, and serene. She walked towards him on long slim legs. Her pencil skirt was an inch above her knees. Her high heels accentuated the fine lines of her calves. Her hips were narrow but rounded. Her breasts were high and full under the tailored grey suit. She stopped in front of him and smiled. It was a reserved and guarded smile, but enough to reveal that her teeth were even and sparkling white. She held out her hand.
    ‘Mr Cross?’ she asked. ‘I am Jo Stanley.’ Her voice was soft and gently modulated, but her enunciation was clear and compelling. He took her hand.
    ‘Yes, I am Hector Cross. I am pleased to meet you, Miss Stanley.’
    ‘Mr Bunter is expecting you. May I show you up to the suite?’
    There were