Chapter Twelve
Carlo sat back as the plane flew on autopilot. Next to him, Simone shifted in her seat, and he shot a glance at her. Openly staring at her didn’t work—it made her so bloody nervous. Her eyes, which had always shone with lightness of life, had become permanently guarded and the laughter had burned out of them. She appeared haunted.
This morning she’d almost passed out after their run, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that she was hiding something from him with measured intention. Suspicion had started to grind into his very bones. Why had she gone for a run in the first place? She hadn’t been up to it. She’d lagged behind on the flat course, which would have been a stroll in the park for her years ago.
James King had been useless the previous evening, turning the conversation around every time he’d asked him something about Simone. When James had explained that Simone had planned to go for a run that morning it was natural for him to tell King he’d go with. He ran every day at home, and his body felt edgy from the lack of exercise.
The dark half-moons under Simone’s eyes were more than sleepless nights; he’d figured that much out. What if she’d been trying to get rid of the last of the incriminating evidence, sneaking around the bush in the middle of the night, meeting up with the poachers to stow those tusks, or intentionally stopping them from putting them on the plane? He couldn’t stomach the thought, and that the one footprint in the sand was just about her size…in his mind’s eye the vision of her fingers tracing those scratches around the keyhole popped up. Fuck.
A pilot had to be involved, but that it could be her…he closed his eyes for a second, then stared out of the side window. Why had she left Carlevaro Air in the first place? And why had she returned? He hadn’t had time to look at her employee file, but he might ask one of the HR people to scan its contents for him. In the meantime, he wouldn’t think her guilty of anything until it had been proven otherwise.
He should ask Julia to get some information out of Peppe.
Thinking of Peppe, he sighed and glanced back at the cabin where Dino and Angelo sat next to each other. Angelo appeared worse for wear and he cursed under his breath. He had his doubts about Angelo’s ability to oversee this branch of the company. Angelo didn’t have it in him, but he had been so keen to try, so desperate to prove himself.
When Carlo had taken over from his father, it had been a rough ride until he’d found his feet. He’d paused his entire life to come to grips with the job, which still kept slipping from his grasp, like it was doing now. Angelo had had a late-night drinking binge with James King, with the usual side effects. Earlier he’d tried to drag Angelo out of bed to ensure he got up in time for their flight. How was it going to work when no one was there to kick his ass?
At least Julia was back in their lives, but an understanding sister was not the solution Angelo needed. If only there was a woman who could get through to Angelo, he could have some peace of mind. But Angelo hadn’t ever let anybody close.
Carlo glanced at Simone. She’d been the only woman he’d ever let in, and she’d walked away. Physically the distance between them wasn’t even half a meter, but on every other level it was miles. She stared out of the front window, regularly checking the instrument panel in front of them. They hadn’t spoken since take-off. True, it had taken him ten weeks to make that godforsaken phone call, but she could give him a break.
In the past days his attraction to her had intensified, as had his confusion at the vigor with which she fought their mutual attraction. It was still there between them, tangible and dense. She hadn’t been giving him mixed signals. She didn’t want anything to do with him. In that moment, he would forgive her anything if he could just have one bit of her back. He sighed with a grunt. Just a taste of the woman she’d been four years ago.
“Pardon?” Simone cast him a sidelong glance.
He blinked and pulled away from his tangled thoughts. “Nothing.”
She didn’t look at him again. “I was thinking about this trafficking situation,” she said, staring at the instruments. “I suspect they won’t try to plant those tusks soon. Someone will warn them.”
He shrugged off the thought that it could have been her who rang the warning bells. “They’ve probably been warned already. Noel is trying to keep it undercover, with the anti-poaching rangers from Kenya.” He shook his head. “At some point, they’ll try to move it. Either by air or road.”
The landscape on the ground changed as they flew northwest over the green valleys of Morogoro, to the duller landscape of Dodoma and the farmlands. They were flying low enough to see individual settlements that spread along the few roads they flew over. For kilometers it was untouched earth that stretched beneath them, with sisal plantations edging along the mountains.
“If you think about it, the only time they could plant those tusks is when a plane is parked unattended. This happens three times a week at Rufiji, when the pilot who does the island route to the Serengeti overnights at the Selous the next day.” She glanced at him. “I’m not sure whether pilots who fly the day flights ever leave the plane unattended. It would be the exception and not the rule. I never do. There’s no time.”
He rubbed his chin, missing his stubble. “Which route is that?”
“It’s a new one, about one and a half years old.” She twisted a curl behind her ear. “We fly to Mafia, Zanzibar, Pemba, then directly to the Serengeti for an overnight. So island tourists can hop to the safari destinations. The next day we fly from the Serengeti to Ugalla, Ruaha and then to the Selous, for tourists who want both a northern and southern Tanzania experience. Kigosi is an optional stop. The third day we fly from the Selous to Dar es Salaam in time for most international flights.”
He recalled Peppe mentioning the new route in a quarterly meeting some time ago. “This is over and above the normal Ruaha and Selous flight that doesn’t overnight?”
“Yes. The route is always full because it suits the safari circuit so well.”
“We need to investigate that,” he said. “I wondered whether they would dare do it in broad daylight, maybe storing the poached goods in the refrigerators we use for food supplies. Those are empty during return flights.”
“Maybe, but moving something of that shape would be difficult with the pilot overseeing the loading. And it would involve the kitchen staff at Rufiji—”
She’d cut her sentence short.
“And?” he prompted. The implication had hit her.
She hesitated. “That would mean that…”
She trailed off and he glanced at her.
That the chef and lodge manager at Rufiji could be involved in this poaching syndicate had been his first gut feeling. James was nervous during their meeting, but after spending time with him he thought it unlikely.
Maybe he had lost his human instinct. “You’ve known the Kings for long?”
She turned to look at him, but he kept his eyes on the controls.
“Liz started at Carlevaro East Africa ages ago. I’ve only got to know her since they’ve been at Rufiji.” She paused, possibly gauging how much he needed to know. “She grew up in Kenya. James came from England to manage a neighboring lodge in the Serengeti and that’s where they met. His parents have old money. I don’t think—”
“They’ve been at Rufiji for two years. The poaching escalated in the past six months, so it doesn’t add up.” He held her gaze. “But to get such an operation going takes time.”
“I suppose so.” Simone nibbled at her bottom lip. “I can’t imagine them being involved.”
“Changes in family circumstances can make people do strange things.” He shrugged. “Maybe James isn’t as well off as you believe and he is worried about the future of his family.”
She frowned. “What do you mean?”
“We pay our staff well, but you never know why people feel a financial strain, especially at home, with changes coming.”
Simone shifted in her seat. Why did such an everyday conversation make her feel uncomfortable?
“So, you know?” she asked, eventually.
“Know what? That Liz is pregnant?” He gave her a sheepish grin. “Yes.”
He kept his gaze on her, warming to the topic. “I caught her words when I walked into the kitchen two nights ago.” His smile deepened. “Then I saw her face last night as she barbequed the lobster. She looked as if she was going to be sick. It adds up.”
Simone didn’t smile, but looked away. “Poor Liz. She’s suffering from morning sickness. I hope it passes soon for her sake. But it’s still early days.”
He sighed. Simone was withdrawing again, this time from a conversation that, for once, wasn’t a minefield of their past. He tried to suppress the undercurrent of frustration.
“Tell her she must take time off, we can always find a replacement.”
He searched her face. She didn’t answer, but a blush flushed her cheeks.
Her hand had curled into a fist where it rested on her thigh. He would have reached for her hand and covered it with his own if he’d dared. “This is a Third World country, I’d hate for her to risk her health and that of her baby because of work…or anything really.” He sighed. “It’s not worth it, don’t you agree?”
She fiddled with the switches on the overhead panel for the air conditioning in the cabin and directed the fan into her back, letting her curls dance in the wind. “I’ll pass on those instructions from the big boss.”
****
Simone turned the aircraft to align it with the airstrip of the Ngorongoro Crater. She couldn’t wait for the flight to be over. She was no stranger to family changes and strain on one’s pocket, but it hadn’t been her place to let slip that Liz was pregnant.
After they’d dropped the subject of Liz and the poaching, Carlo had sat next to her, his mouth pursed in a grim, thoughtful line, his hand rubbing his cheek in a repetitive, pensive way. She worried he was going to ask her something—anything—that would cause her to incriminate the Kings, herself, or somebody else, never mind Sarah, who was always on her mind. She had yet to meet a mother with a three-year-old whose universe didn’t revolve around her child. That she’d managed not to spill the beans yet was a miracle in itself.
She couldn’t write off his words, that Liz shouldn’t take a risk with her baby. What would it have been like if he’d been there during her pregnancy? If he’d known about the pregnancy, he would have cared very much. His genuine concern for Liz, a person whom he’d never met before, made her think, for a few weak moments, that she should tell him about Sarah. But once she told him there could be no erasing the words and she’d have to deal with the consequences.
Through a break in the clouds she got an eagle’s view over the caldera. There was no mist and they landed smoothly, if she disregarded Carlo’s hand on hers, which had become even more possessive since the first day. Before he let go he’d given her hand a soft squeeze.
Carlo opened his door and the cold hit her. They were no longer on the warm plains of the greater Selous, but over two thousand meters above sea level during winter. She got off the plane and put on her fleece.
The others disembarked, pulling on jackets. Simone watched the camp driver unpack the hold as she tried to avoid Natalia’s ever-present, searching gaze.
“Can I close here?” Carlo asked from the top of the air stair, looking at her where she stood at the bottom.
“Yes, I’ll lock up on my side.” She felt uneasy. The plane would be parked for the night at an airstrip a forty-minute drive from the lodge. It was in the middle of nowhere by any standards. Since the revelations in the Selous, she feared that someone watched every move made by a Carlevaro pilot, with the intention of stowing poached goods.
She double-checked that they locked every door and hold, Carlo following in her wake.
“She’ll be all right.” Carlo gave the aircraft a pat on the wing strut.
“I’m just nervous,” Simone said.
“I know.” He glanced at her. “It’s only one night, and it’s not the Selous. Come.”
They continued to the car, where the others were seated out of the nippy wind. Carlo held the door for her to slide in next to Angelo. She had no choice, and as Carlo got in next to her she slumped in the warm hollow between the brothers. It was almost cozy, if she wasn’t aware of the raucous pounding of her heart, which surely both of the Carlevaros could hear.
The road to the camp was a red mud track following the rim of the crater. Occasionally the dense foliage parted, giving them a peek to the caldera, but mostly the path contoured along tall trees, which faded into the rising mist. It was impossible to see far into the caldera, and after a discussion of the weather the group fell silent.
“We’ll finish the data we started collating, Simone,” Carlo said after a while.
She grasped her hands together, inwardly protesting. She dreaded sitting through another dissection of the staff’s rotational schedules. “Sure.”
“We’ll be able to put in a decent couple of hours’ work.” Carlo sighed as he leaned back in his seat, brushing his shoulder with hers, sending a ripple down her arm, which spread to the rest of her body.
“I need to catch up with Rome,” said Dino. “Our month-end figures from Southeast Asia came through this morning.”
“Yes, I saw the emails,” said Carlo. “I must focus on what’s happening in the Selous and Ruaha. We’ll talk about those numbers later today.”
“No problem,” Dino said.
Simone suppressed a groan; she’d be cornered with Carlo the whole afternoon.
The Ngorongoro Crater Lodge was the biggest hotel in the group’s East Africa portfolio and she’d never stayed there before. It was not one of their overnight stops, and with the airstrip so far from the lodge it had always been a case of landing and taking off directly.
On arrival the lodge manager directed them to the lounge area, where tall floor-to-ceiling windows opened over the vista of the crater. Double volume windows stretched the impressive length of the lounge and dining room. She could not step closer to admire the view, as the manager approached them, but she felt giddy with seeing the lodge for the first time. She hovered with the group, uncertain of where to go.
“I only have the family house available for you,” the manager addressed the group. “But it has three en suite rooms.” The manager gave her a quizzical stare. Why give her that look? She was in no position to probe about her own bed for the night—yet.
“That’s perfect, we don’t need more.” Carlo looked around the empty lounge area. All the guests had departed to the crater for a full day’s game drive.
“It doesn’t have views—” the manager started to apologize.
“We don’t need views, we’ll be working. Please put some tables together for us in the dining room and we can get started.”
The manager got the message not to dawdle and strode to the reception area to give his orders to the staff, then came back to their party.
“We’ll serve lunch at one.” He indicated the dining room, where the staff was putting together the tables.
Carlo nodded and the manager took Angelo and Dino off on their site inspection.
“I’m going to have a look outside, I haven’t been here for ages.” Natalia followed the porters outside, leaving her and Carlo alone.
Simone waited, not yet dismissed and with nowhere to go.
Her luggage had left with the porters and she had no idea where it had gone. She hoped it wasn’t the family house. It sounded too intimate. The house was separated from the rest of the hotel, and used by small groups or families traveling to the Crater.
She sighed deeply, zipping her fleece jacket up to her chin, hoping they would kindle fires in all the fireplaces in the lounge and dining area.
Carlo stood next to her, staring at the vista as the mist rolled over the rim in patches. “Don’t sound so agonized. If we focus we should be done by the end of the day.” He didn’t turn to talk to her, but stood with his arms folded.
“It’s not that,” she said quickly, maybe too quickly. “I don’t know where to go.”
He glanced at her. “You’ve been here before?”
She shook her head.
Frowning, he looked at her. “We never flew here together?”
“Only to the airstrip. I’ve never been to the lodge.”
He nodded absentmindedly, but he dropped his arms and reached for her hand. His fingers were warm as they curled around hers. She wanted to pull away but he had taken hold of her in a grip so gentle it felt as if they had melted into each other. “Come see,” he said as he led her toward the massive windows that overlooked the vista. “My father’s masterpiece. He won so many architectural awards for this lodge’s design. It launched Carlevaro International, to be honest.”
It was the first time he’d spoken of his father and the pride in his tone was tangible.
She let him tug her along, unable to let go of the soft grip that bound them. “Your father designed this lodge?”
“All of the Carlevaro hotels. He was an architect, didn’t you know?” He glanced at her and shook his head. “I never spoke about my family, did I?” He sighed a curse. “How did I manage to not mention him? He was a brilliant man, a visionary.”
She could remind him that talking had not always been first on their agenda four years ago. He had her chatting day in and out, but she’d never gotten to probe him about anything. He’d been as guarded with her then as she was with him now.
The urge to wipe the slate clean engulfed her. The only bit of warmth in her body had settled where their fingers locked. If only he would take her into his arms, the world would straighten. If he would hold her, kiss her…she would be unable to resist him. Deep down she didn’t want to resist him, and that was the problem. One bubble at a time, he was pushing her to the boiling point. And with that would come the truth about Sarah.
They’d reached a glass-enclosed deck, which seemed to protrude out over the sheer plunge off the crater rim, giving way to unsurpassed views of the caldera below. The world dropped away, and thousands of feet below the green curve of the valleys flattened into the plains of the crater. Slow mist rose and parted, allowing glimpses of the wide expanse of grasslands and Lake Magadi with its pale pink stand of flamingoes. They were so high up that the world below seemed as untouched and unreachable as a watercolor painting.
He gave her fingers a soft squeeze. “How’s that for a view?”
She sucked in a soft breath. “There’s nothing like it in the entire world.”
“No.” He was staring at her. He’d been staring at her and not through the window at all.
She glanced at him but had to look away from the intensity of his eyes, which held her with such dearness that she knew he’d spoken of her. Inwardly she trembled, her murmur of need escalating to an oscillating quake.
“Simone, there’s something you’re not telling me. If you are in trouble, please—”
She extracted her fingers from his, but he cupped her elbow in his hand. She felt like crying, but the only sound that slipped out was a strangled choke as she jerked away from him. “I’m in no trouble, thank you.” Four years too late for that one.
She wanted to laugh but it hurt too much. She had to phone her mom, but it would only be to confirm her suspicions. Her mother had never passed on the message that Carlo had phoned. Her eyes misted over and she had to blink, looking away. “I just wish someone could show me where I’m to sleep tonight.”
With me. He didn’t say the words, but they hung between them, heavy and drenched.
She curled her fingers into her palms, her nails cutting into her skin. Any physical pain that would stop her from showing him where it truly ached. “It’s such a fine bloody line, Carlo. Please understand.” She swallowed the last words, biting hard on her lip to transfer the pain that had settled underneath her heart.
“I know.”
Footsteps on the polished floor echoed through the room. She glanced over her shoulder.
“We’ve prepared a table for you in the dining area on the other side, Mr. Carlevaro. There’s tea, coffee and scones,” said the waiter, who gestured for them to move to the other side of the lounge.
She breathed out in relief that the intense atmosphere between them had been shattered with the waiter’s arrival. She couldn’t go on like this.
“Thank you.” Carlo turned to her, his frustration barely disguised in the pull of his mouth. “There is a room for you in the house, Simone. There was nothing else available, and I didn’t want you go to a neighboring lodge.”
Of course not. He had to keep an eye on her—like he had since the moment she caught him staring at her from the doorway of the pilot’s lounge. A shiver shot through her like an electric shock, leaving her cold to the bone. She was being watched…she was a suspect in their investigation, despite him saying she was the only one he trusted that first night. Maybe she was their prime suspect. Why else would she be here?
Was this the reason why he’d come for a run this morning? He’d hardly left her alone since their paths had crossed again. She’d been so blind, thinking only of Sarah, she hadn’t seen the bigger picture.
“You’re cold—I’ll ask them to stoke the fires.” Carlo nodded toward the dining room. “Do you need a break? It was a long flight.”
She needed so much more than a break. “No, I want to get this done and dusted as much as you do.” Did he really think she would meddle with poaching and smuggling?
Swearing under her breath she followed him to the other side of the lounge where the dining room was situated. A circular bar separated the two areas.
Carlo took his laptop from his bag and plugged it into the extension cord. She had no armor, no laptop that could be a screen between him and her.
“Coffee?” she asked, for the silence was too tense and she needed to do something with her hands, hold something between them.
“Please. No milk, no sugar.”
“Yes, I know.” She could have bitten her tongue at those last two words, for he stared at her with a soft gaze, admitting the intimate knowledge a shared past held. His gaze shifted to someone behind her, and she glanced up to see Natalia strolling past the bar into the dining room.
“Dio, Carlo, that must be the most horrid family suite in our whole portfolio. Have you seen it?” Natalia had her laptop bag over her shoulder.
“Not since I worked here, and then it was a quick in and out,” he answered as he sat down.
“It’s in dire need of a soft refurbishment, I can’t believe Peppe let it go like that. I hope we don’t charge more than three thousand dollars for that hole a night.” Natalia plunked down her laptop bag on the table.
“It’s not used often as far as I know,” Carlo said.
Simone sat down, gripping her cup with cold, cramping fingers, like a lifeline. With Natalia here at least she could breathe.
“You’re on leave, Talia?”
“I need to let Julia know.” She smiled at Carlo. “And I want to hear if she’s coping.”
“Julia’s doing fine. She must cope by herself.”
A funny looked passed between Carlo and Natalia. Carlo shrugged as if he had to let something go, and Natalia gave a deep sigh.
“My turn to make you a coffee?” Simone asked, eager to get away from the silent discussion between the two.
“Thank you, that would be lovely. I like it black,” Natalia said. “And see, now I can enjoy the view, which the house doesn’t have.”
Simone handed a cup to Natalia. And help us ignore the elephant in the room.
Four hours later they still sat together, Carlo shooting questions at her sporadically, while he manipulated data on his computer, interspersed with times of silence as he read and responded to some emails. He got up to make calls in between, pacing the room, speaking mostly in Italian.
Angelo and Dino joined them and the whole business became more rowdy as the family tossed ideas around for the lodge. Then they studied and pulled apart the numbers from their Southeast Asian operations. Angelo peppered both Carlo and Dino with questions and she was grateful for her own reprieve.
She wanted to see what Carlo was going to do with the pilot data once they had it all loaded in the spreadsheet, but it was past five o’clock in the afternoon and she struggled to suppress her yawns.
“There you go,” Carlo said, pointing to something on his computer’s screen.
Simone woke up from the dull numbness that had settled over her. He had generated several graphs that tracked staff movement for the past eight months.
She leaned into the screen, but couldn’t make sense of it. She’d lost track of what he’d been doing.
“What should I be searching for?” She frowned. Ribbons of different colors tracked lines over the graphs, crossing, others coming together at one point before splitting again. It looked muddled.
“I’ve made data talk in pictures. All we need to do is put the story together.”
“How?” Simone asked, embarrassed as both Dino and Angelo stared at her as if she were a nitwit who’d missed the boat. Natalia was typing on her laptop, reading glasses perched on the end of her nose.
“Identify matching patterns, for starters.” Carlo sighed as he leaned back in his chair, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m too tired to look at it now. The basics are there and we can build on it.” He dragged his fingers through his hair. “We can sit with it tonight, or even better, tomorrow.”
He stood and closed his laptop, then raised his arms over his head and twisted in a giant stretch. His fleece shirt rode up to reveal his taut stomach and navel in its bed of dark hair, which travelled south to the buttons of his Levi’s before disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans. Simone dropped her gaze as he lowered his arms and a wave of heat hit her cheeks. Her fingers burned with the desire to touch him. He walked toward the window and came to a standstill with his arms folded, his back to the rest of the group.
“I think we should call it a day.” Dino’s words drilled through to her.
When she looked up Angelo was watching her, one eyebrow cocked and his lips twitching in a wry smile.
Her blush deepened and she stood abruptly. Yes, Angelo, that’s the lay of the land.
Angelo also got up, his chair screeching. He shook his head. “I think I’ll try and call Madeleine for a change.”
Carlo turned at his words, glancing at her before his gaze caught Angelo’s, straight in the eye. “About time, too. When is she back from her modeling shoot in the Maldives?”
“I’m not sure, but I think I’ll ask her to fly over for a couple of days.” Angelo’s monotone voice sounded indifferent. He packed up his laptop and swung the bag over his shoulder.
Why would he invite a woman over if he weren’t in the mood for her company?
“Join us for a drink afterward?” Carlo called after him.
“Sure.” Angelo strode toward the glass doors and the exit to the verandah.
Simone felt Natalia looking at her, but she didn’t want to talk. The need to be alone overwhelmed her. “I think I’ll find my way to our accommodation. Good evening.”
Carlo looked at her, raising his hand to stop her, but she rushed away, not looking back.