Chapter 83 There Was A

• There was a rustle of movement from her side of the table and she sensed more than saw the heightened interest her words had sparked. She had not spoken of this to anyone, shying from revealing her past foolishness. But it was pertinent here.
Aware she was adding more fuel to the fire she was building under him, Rafael instantly sought to cool it down. “You know it is the way the old families arrange it in South America. I was delegated to offer the bride price. That is all I did. The choice was still yours. And you seemed taken with Laurens.”
“You’ve already commented on how young I was, Rafael. I was flattered. Overwhelmed. But you knew what kind of man Laurens was and what I was being led into.”
He shook his head. “For all I knew of you then, you could have viewed it as an advantageous marriage. Many women would see it as a passport to a life they envied. You made the decision, Christabel.”
“And I’m sure you found it advantageous—a South American bride, approved of by Bernhard Kruger. Another little fortuitous connection on your way up the ladder.”
He lost patience with her argument, tersely replying, “It had no bearing on my situation, which only changed after Laurens was gone.”
“And then you came into everything. My point entirely,” she fired at him.
“Except it’s based on a false premise,” he snapped. “I had nothing to do with Laurens’s death, Christabel.”
“Prove it!”
The demand rang through the tension in the room, seeming to bounce off the walls. Anger showed clearly on Rafael Santiso’s face, an anger that laced his voice as he bitingly asked, “Are you prepared to listen now?”
“By all means lay out your train of events,” she threw back at him.
He swept a dark burning gaze around the King family. “I understand that Christabel needed to voice the suspicions that have festered for so long, but that is all they are—suspicions. Justifiable in her situation, but unjustified by any proof. Please keep that in mind.”
He turned to the lawyer beside him. “Hans, take them through what was done.”
The lawyer was in his seventies, a long-time aide in the Kruger camp and undoubtedly privy to many secrets. As much as Christabel disliked him, Rafael’s confidence in handing his defence over to the older man did intrigue her enough to command her attention.
“Bernhard instantly suspected that the boat which exploded and killed Laurens had been sabotaged,” Vogel related tonelessly. “He offered a large reward for the identity of the saboteurs. The information came in. The men directly responsible for Laurens’s death volunteered the name of the man who’d hired them. He revealed a conspiracy within the Kruger network, a certain pressure group that was planning a division of interests which would be highly profitable to those involved.”
He paused, his light blue eyes zeroing in on Christabel. “It was centred on our South African connections, nothing to do with South America.”
“The boat blew up in the Caribbean,” Christabel swiftly reminded him.
“The Caribbean is an international playground,” came the instant rebuff. “A place for international gossip amongst jetsetters.”
She had to grant him that.
Hans Vogel continued with barely a pause, his eyes boring through the cynical reservations in hers. “Laurens heard a rumour of the conspiracy at a party and asked some indiscreet questions instead of bringing what he’d picked up to his father. You were married to him. You must know he liked to pump himself up, wanting to make himself a bigger man than he was. It turned into a fatal flaw.”
Yes, she did know, Christabel silently conceded. Laurens would have exulted in telling his father something Bernhard didn’t know, showing off, proving how important he could be. “Do I know any of the conspirators?” she asked.
Hans Vogel shrugged. “I doubt it. I do have the entire list of names in my office safe. Not with me. I can assure you Rafael Santiso is not one of them. But I can produce the reports if you so wish. It is impossible, however, for you to speak to anyone on the list about these circumstances.”
“Why is that?”
“Regrettably, all of them have died…in accidents,” he said very dryly. “The hand of justice, is it not?”
The hand of an old man wreaking vengeance on those who’d agreed to the murder of his son! She should have been shocked but oddly enough it all seemed very distant to her—another life, another world, one she didn’t want to return to.
Pieter Wissmann, the Swiss accountant, sat forward. He was a pale thin man in his fifties who always carried an air of precision. “If you want objective confirmation of what occurred, following on from Bernhard’s investigation…”
He looked at Nathan, Tommy, then directly at Jared. “As men of business, you will appreciate that financial figures tell their own story. The rearrangement of the South African operation is quite dramatic, directly related to the elimination of corrupt connections and the building of a new network. If you wish to examine the records on this, I can make them available to you.”
Christabel frowned over the sheer weight of the revelations, her mind torn at having her own long-held belief in Rafael Santiso’s guilt crushed. The offering of such confidential information was extraordinary. The list of the conspirators’ names, their deaths, which could be officially confirmed, the money trail…she had to be wrong about Rafael’s involvement in Laurens’s death. There was too much evidence pointing elsewhere. Firm evidence, not suspicions based on steps that could have favoured him in his rise to the trusteeship of the Kruger inheritance.
Jared stirred beside her. “Do I understand, from both of you…” he said slowly “…that everything pertaining to Laurens Kruger’s death was cleared up and acted upon while Bernhard Kruger was still alive?”
“Yes. The conspiracy, once uncovered, was excised with maximum efficiency,” Hans Vogel replied.
“The reorganisation took longer but it was in place and running to Bernhard’s satisfaction before he died,” Pieter Wissmann confirmed.
“Thank you. We appreciate your candour and cooperation in offering this sensitive information,” Jared assured them respectfully, then leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his gaze trained on Rafael Santiso. “I have two questions,” he stated in a tone that demanded satisfaction.
“Ask them,” Rafael invited brusquely, emitting the attitude that he could answer anything at any time.
“Given that the conspiracy had been comprehensively dealt with…why was it so dangerous for Christabel and Alicia when you took over after Berhard’s death, to the point of your becoming their gaoler?” He let Rafael’s own word hang for a moment. “And given Christabel’s obvious wish to be free of you and all you represent…why didn’t you respect her choice, her decision…as you did when she married Laurens Kruger?”
Jared paused, then quietly added, “Please keep in mind that Christabel has the right to choose the life she wants, and as Alicia’s mother, she has the right to choose what she feels is best for her daughter. That is our concern here. We are yet to understand your concerns…the purpose behind this uninvited and unwelcome intrusion on a life that literally has nothing to do with you.”
Again there was that relentless beat in Jared’s phrasing, a quiet but very real menace underlying the words that spelled out the heart of the matter in unequivocal terms, and what had to be answered.
Even as Christabel felt a strong surge of love for this man at her side…her soul partner, her champion…she looked at Rafael Santiso and wondered if he sensed what he was facing—no escape.
No escape, she kept thinking, amazed that those words could now apply to the seemingly all-powerful figure she had fled from.
Maybe she and Alicia could be safe here.
Or was she assuming too much, too soon?