The Eagle and the Sun Read online

  'Going a bit far, isn't it?' Derek sniffed. 'Do all your guests get this treatment?'

  'All those who come in here,' Miguel replied calmly. 'At any one time we have hundreds of thousands of dollars' worth of cut gems in this safe. They are my responsibility. The people who send them here for cutting and polishing trust me to protect their property. I am merely honouring that trust.'

  'Well, OK,' Derek grudged, 'but still,' he looked at the guard, 'I mean, you must be insured.'

  Miguel stared at him. 'Of course. But what has that to do with it?'

  Again Cass was vividly aware of the difference between the two men. She had frequently heard Derek referred to in tones of admiration as 'a damn

  good businessman'. Yet learning the details of a deal he had set up or pulled off, she had often been left with a deep sense of unease. Activities which appeared commonplace if not actually compulsory were all too often questionable to say the least.

  The guard stood in front of Cass and Derek while Miguel spun the combination then turned the wheel on the front of the safe. The door swung silently open and the guard retired to his chair alongside the door.

  'Please, sit down.' Miguel gestured towards a metal table covered with pale grey baize and screwed to the floor with heavy bolts. Above the table two spotlights, their bulbs covered in fine steel mesh, were attached to the wall.

  Looking for chairs, Cass did not at first notice the small, padded backless seats, each fixed on a hinge to the legs of the table.

  'Good God!' Derek shook his head in reluctant amazement. 'You thought, of everything, didn't you? There's nothing in this room that can be moved, lifted or broken. Not one potential weapon.'

  Turning from the safe with a velvet-covered tray in his hands, Miguel simply inclined his head in acknowledgement. He switched on the spotlights, directing their beam on to the tray as he set it down before Cass. Then he sat beside her. His height and breadth of shoulder and the fixed seats brought him unnervingly close, but there was no way of widening the distance between them.

  'These are all white opals,' Miguel explained.

  The smoothly rounded gems, pearly against the black velvet, were shot through with brilliant

  streaks of scarlet, ice-blue and vivid emerald. 'Where are they from?' Derek asked. 'Is this the

  sort of stuff your mines produce?'

  'These are from La Esperanza,' Miguel replied, 'near San Juan del Rio. It was Mexico's first important opal mine and has been worked since its discovery in 1835. They are not ours. However, our own mines produce gems of equal if not superior quality.'

  'What actually causes the incandescence?' Cass bent her head to study the stones more closely. Of varying sizes and shapes, the only things they had in common were their rounded finish and milky background. In every stone the play of shimmering colour was different.

  'Diffracted light, basically,' Miguel replied. 'Opal is a silica mineral, a sub-microcrystalline variety of cristabolite. Light enters through cracks in the stone and is reflected off a three-dimensional lattice of minute round particles producing spectral colours.'

  'Of course,' Derek's sarcastic mutter was ignored, though Cass flinched inwardly.

  She gazed at the gems. 'For me, they're fragments of a rainbow.' She glanced up at Miguel. 'Isn't it odd how many superstitions have been attached to opals?'

  He nodded. 'The Romans considered them noble gems and ranked them second only to emeralds. In the Middle Ages they were considered a lucky stone. Now some people refuse to wear them because they're unlucky.'

  'I think they've gained that reputation because in certain climatic conditions they shrink or crack,'

  Cass said.

  'That is possible,' Miguel allowed. 'Even so, no woman who favours a strong perfume will ever wear opals successfully.'

  Cass twisted round to look at him. 'Is that another superstition?'

  He shook his head. 'Chemistry.' His dark eyes glittered.

  Cass's gaze slid shyly back to the stones. 'H-how are they formed? Where do they come from?'

  'The action of hot springs deposits the mineral in cavities in volcanic rocks. Opal itself contains five to ten per cent water and can absorb a lot more.' His voice, deep and soft, feathered down her spine and she felt herself growing warm, despite the air- conditioning.

  She stared at the tray, the stones dancing before her eyes, aware of her deepening colour, aware of his heavy-lidded scrutiny. 'I—' She cleared her throat and began again. 'I always protect the opals I use with a film of oil to prevent them drying out. I find it helps preserve their colour as well.' Even to herself her voice sounded strained. Why did he stare so? Why did it disconcert her? Why couldn't she ignore it, or shrug it aside, or pretend it wasn't happening? She was twenty-five years old and, though no worldly-wise sophisticate, neither was she a gauche adolescent. Yet there was something about him that fascinated even as it perturbed her. A complex mixture of traditional and contemporary, of imperiousness and tolerance, this man was unlike any she had ever met.

  He linked his fingers, resting his forearms on the

  table.

  'As you are already aware, our mines produce many cat's-eye and harlequin opals. But a few weeks ago a small pocket of rare water opal known as contra luz was discovered.'

  'I've heard of that particular gem,' Cass put in, fighting an awareness that their conversation was taking place on two separate levels. His words said one thing, but his eyes and the tone of his voice said another. But she couldn't afford to listen. She did not want to hear. She could not deny the attraction she felt for him, nor could she any longer tell herself he was totally uninterested in her; the opposite was becoming all too plain. But she was only just beginning to discover herself. She had not broken free from Derek's domination only to dance to another man's tune, no matter how captivating the melody.

  'But I've never used contra luz,' she babbled on. 'As the iridescence can only be seen by transmitted light, the stones are not immediately impressive, so I don't think they would be suitable for my jewellery.' She turned aside from the table, swivelling around on the padded seat, her knees brushing his thigh. It was impossible to remain sitting so close to him in the small room with Derek glaring suspiciously at Miguel then herself. 'We are imposing on your kindness, senor. You said yourself you had many other things to do.' She raised her eyes briefly.

  His features were a mask of impassivity but his voice was clipped and harsh. 'Forgive me. I had no wish to bore you.'

  From the corner of her vision she saw Derek roll his eyes in relief. But she could not allow Miguel to think she was bored. Nothing was further from the truth. Nervous, certainly. Tense, yes. But bored? Never. 'Oh no,' she exclaimed, laying an impulsive hand on his arm. 'You're not, truly. It wasn't—I mean, I didn't—' She took her hand away quickly, aware of the heat radiating from her flushed face. 'Please, I'd love to see some more.'

  'Well, I have to say this side of the business really isn't my scene.' Derek stood up. 'I'm a figures man myself. Show me a set of accounts and I'll tell you all there is to know about that business. I've never believed in keeping a dog and barking myself. I rely on my staff experts for appraisal of quality.'

  'Derek!' Cass blurted, shocked as much by his blatant disrespect as by his attempt to present himself as head of the company. 'Your father buys all our stones.'

  'Sure,' he agreed innocently, lifting one shoulder in a careless shrug, 'didn't I just say that?' He turned to Miguel. 'Mind if I take a look at the safe? Can't say I've seen one like that before.'

  Miguel rose to his feet and picked up the tray. 'Not at all.' His voice was expressionless. Derek followed him as he replaced the tray and took out another, covered this time in pale cream velvet. He straightened up. 'But please, do not touch anything.'

  Derek's mouth tightened in indignation and resentment, but he made no comment. Turning his back on them both he pushed his hands into his trouser pockets and leaned forward to examine the locking mechanism more closely.


  Miguel placed the tray in front of Cass but instead of resuming his seat, he leaned over her, resting one hand on the table while with the other he peeled back the square of velvet covering the stones.

  'Ohhh!' Cass's soft intake of breath prompted a smile that softened Miguel's slightly cruel mouth. She glanced up at him then turned back wide-eyed to the gems. 'They're…fabulous!'

  'Girasol del fuego, the fire opal,' he said quietly, and lifting a lock of her hair let it spill over his fingers. 'It was created for you, Cassandra.'

  Cass sat very still, hardly breathing, burningly aware of the intimacy both of his gesture and his use of her name. She stared at the facet-cut stones that ranged in colour from translucent orange to fiery red, every nerve taut, vibrating with mingled uncertainty and anticipation.

  Releasing the silky tress, Miguel lifted a corner of the tray. In the middle, surrounded by smaller gems, one oblong stone the size of Cass's little fingernail flashed incandescent flame from a rich crimson centre.

  'What do you think of it?' he asked softly.

  Cass shook her head, unable to take her eyes off the stone. 'It's exquisite,' she whispered. 'Do you get many like that?'

  'No,' he admitted. 'It's the finest I have ever seen.' 'It would make a beautiful ring.' She was not

  aware of the wistfulness in her tone.

  'You would not use it as the centre-stone in a necklace?' He moved the tray again and the opal was a living flame.

  'Oh, no.' Cass was definite. 'A stone like that is unique, matchless. To mount it with others would detract from both it and them. 'I—' she hesitated. 'I suppose it's very expensive?' She did not want it for its value.

  She wanted it for its sheer, unsurpassed beauty.

  Oh, how she wanted it!

  Miguel gently replaced the velvet over the gems. 'It would be, if it were for sale.'

  Disappointment washed over her in a cold wave, but she couldn't give up. 'Does it belong to one of your clients? Do you think they might be persuaded to sell? I would pay full market price.'

  'I'm afraid not,' he said firmly. 'As a matter of fact the stone is to be made into a ring. I know the owner well. No amount of money would persuade him to part with it.'

  Cass made a brave attempt to smile. 'Oh well, he has excellent taste. It will make a beautiful ring. I hope he has the sense to make it a solitaire, or better yet, surround it with diamonds to bring out the fire at its heart.'

  Miguel opened his mouth to reply but his words were drowned by an ear-splitting cacophony of electric alarm bells.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Cass and Miguel whirled round. The guard sprang to his feet and lunged forward, one hand flying to his gun.

  'Pedro!' Miguel's quick cry froze the man in a semi-crouch.

  The colour had drained from Derek's face, leaving it ashen as he cringed away from the guard.

  At a nod from Miguel, Pedro straightened up slowly, and reaching for a hidden switch, turned off the alarm. He remained poised for action, balanced on the balls of his feet, staring fixedly at Derek as he waited for instructions.

  The silence was deafening. Derek pushed his hands into his pockets and shrugged. He attempted to grin. 'Just testing.'

  Cass released the breath she had been holding in a soft rush as Miguel crossed to a wall phone behind the guard's chair and punched in a number.

  'Luisa? The alarm was set off accidentally. 'I repeat, it was an accident. Please notify the rest of the staff at once. I'll inform the police from here.' He cleared the line.

  'I say,' Derek interrupted uncomfortably, 'is that really necessary. I mean—'

  'This system is on a direct link to Police Headquarters.' Miguel was terse. 'They do not

  appreciate hoax calls.' He punched in more numbers and spoke in rapid-fire Spanish. Then, after making what Cass deduced from his tone was an apology, he replaced the receiver with slow deliberation.

  There was no trace of friendliness on the bronze features now. Derek had backed away from the safe and now stood beside Cass. As Miguel's laser-like gaze surveyed them in turn, it was as though an invisible but impenetrable wall had sprung up, with them on one side and him on the other. His expression was cold, his eyes opaque, revealing no emotion whatsoever.

  'Mr Prentice, did you touch any of the stones?'

  Cass felt real fear, like slivers of ice, trickle down her spine at the flinty tone. The sight of the armed guard just to one side of Miguel reminded her with stunning force that she was in a foreign country, far from everything familiar. The tall man whose chilling gaze flickered from Derek to herself was once more a total stranger.

  'No.' Once he had spoken, Derek seemed to regain his confidence and Cass watched him straighten his back and puff out his chest. 'No,' he repeated, more strongly this time, defying doubt. 'No, of course not. I must have brushed against something, that's all. Shall I turn out my pockets? Do you want your tame gorilla to search me again?'

  'No, Mr Prentice,' Miguel replied quietly and held out his hand to Cass. Automatically she picked up the tray of fire opals from the table and passed it to him. It was only afterwards that she realised he had not asked for them, he had not needed to. She had known what he wanted. She clasped her arms

  across her chest, suddenly shaky.

  'You are my guest,' Miguel went on. 'Naturally, I accept your word.' Derek would have spoken then, but Miguel's quiet tones overrode him. 'If you have lied to me, I have lost only a jewel, and, as you pointed out, I am insured. Though in such circumstances no claim would be made. Whereas you,' he paused and though it was Derek he was looking at, Cass flinched at what she saw in his eyes, 'you would have lost something irreplaceable.'

  Derek flushed brick-red. 'Now look here,' he blustered, 'I said it was an accident.'

  Cass knew in that moment that he was lying. There was not enough righteous indignation, or even quiet conviction, for him to be telling the truth. 'So you did,' Miguel agreed coolly and, turning, slid the tray into the safe. He closed the massive door and tightened the wheel before spinning the

  combination dial.

  'Now you must excuse me. As Miss Elliott so thoughtfully pointed out, I have many other matters to attend to.' With a brief nod to the guard who resumed his seat, Miguel pressed a button on the wall. The door slid back and he stood aside, gesturing for them to precede him.

  Cass snatched up her bag from the table and walked quickly out. She felt shunned, bereft. Did Miguel think she was somehow involved in what Derek had done? What had he done? Why did Miguel suspect it was something more than a stupid, careless accident?

  As they reached the security door into the reception area, Miguel leaned past her to press a

  button on the wall. Cass saw Luisa glance up and reach for the release button on her desk. The lock disengaged and Miguel opened the door and held it for her. As she passed him their eyes met for a brief instant. His expression was unreadable but one wing-like brow lifted fractionally.

  She felt heat surge in her own face. Then pride tilted her chin. There was no reason why she should feel guilty. And yet, as Derek pushed past her to slump down on one of the easy chairs, she could not entirely erase the nagging doubts.

  'Please sit down, Miss Elliott.' His tone was utterly impersonal and in total contrast to his use of her first name. She lowered her eyes swiftly so that he should not see her unexpected sadness. 'My assistant, Benito Suarez, will be with you both in a moment. He will take you to lunch and afterwards will show you the cutting rooms.'

  Cass turned to Miguel in surprise, but before she could speak Derek chipped in. 'You mean we're not on the next plane out? No pointing fingers? No claims that I'm out to rob you with the help of my moll here?'

  'Derek! For heaven's sake!' Cass bit down hard on embarrassed anger. 'In the circumstances, that is not at all funny.'

  Malice glittered in Derek's eyes and thinned his mouth. He leaned back in his chair and, crossing his legs began to swing one foot. 'Your only fault, my love, is that you have
no sense of humour.' He spread one hand. 'It was only a joke. Miguel knows that, don't you, Miguel?' He grinned up at the Mexican, whose features remained impassive.

  'Perhaps Miss Elliott finds, as I do, that humour is a matter of personal taste. As for the rest,' Miguel's eyes narrowed, 'no one has yet succeeded in taking what is mine.' He gave a bleak smile. 'I do not foresee any change.' He inclined his head in brief farewell and turned away.

  Cass watched his tall figure disappear through one of the unmarked doors and then sank back in her chair. Her forehead puckered in a frown as questions clamoured in her brain. She looked up, only to see Derek already watching her, his bottom lip thrust forward in sulky defiance.

  'Don't you start on me, Cass,' he warned. 'OK, so I went a bit over the top, but he acts so bloody superior, he gets up my nose.'

  It occurred to Cass to retort that Miguel didn't have to act, he was superior, but there was no point in adding fuel to Derek's already smouldering resentment. She took a deep breath and tried very hard to sound reasonable.

  'Do you honestly think you are presenting yourself, and the Prentice company, in the best light carrying on like this?' She saw his mouth tighten, and leaned forward. 'Derek, I'm not having a go at you, I'm just asking you to try and be objective. Why on earth should Miguel Ibarra commit himself to a business deal with someone who appears to be quite deliberately flouting all the basic rules of courtesy?'

  He glared at her. 'Is that what you think I'm doing?'

  'Well, isn't it?' she shot back.

  'Perhaps.' Derek flung one arm over the back of

  his chair and gazed around the reception area. 'But he'll sign,' he said confidently.