Nothing could get a crowd excited like incredible wealth. There were whistles and exclamations. One of the journalists gasped Fuck my boots loudly enough to be heard by the mayor, who turned and shot him a filthy look. A scrum of photographers jostled for the best shot. Everyone was thinking the same thing, even Brooke.
How many millions must this stuff be worth? she asked Sam, who beamed with pleasure.
Enough to have already sparked quite a nasty little war between the British government and the Spanish treasury officials claiming ownership of the wreck and its contents. Itll rage on for months. But however its all divided up in the end, Sir Roger will get his forty per cent share. Look at him. Ive never seen him this chuffed with himself.
Brooke could see the security men positioned discreetly at the rear of the exhibit, at least eight of them, all extremely serious-looking. She wouldnt have been surprised if theyd been government agents. There must be an army of them backstage, she thought, and a convoy of trucks waiting to whisk the priceless treasures away to a bank vault somewhere.
Remembering Amal, she looked back over towards the bar. He was still sitting slumped over his drink, mountains of gold coins, emeralds and rubies the last thing on his mind. She thought about going over to him, then decided he probably wanted to be left alone.
Now, it was by no means uncommon through history for regular line-of-battle warships of any nation to carry all manner of splendid artefacts, Sir Roger went on from the podium as the cameras carried on flashing in a frenzy. But lets remember that the Spanish Armada was no ordinary naval fleet. This was a full-blown invasion force, whose commanders were quite assured would make short work of the English defences, sweep rapidly inland and within weeks, perhaps even days, establish a new Spanish territory upon English soil. In fact, they were so confident in the overwhelming force of this massive fleet that its officers, many of them noblemen of the highest position, loaded their ships with a wealth of luxury goods, artwork and other finery not just to enjoy on the voyage, but with which the countrys new Spanish rulers would have refurnished the palaces and stately homes of Tudor England. And of course if you want to set up a new government, youre going to need money. Lots and lots of it. Aboard the Santa Teresa were scores of wax-sealed casks, stuffed with greater quantities of coin, gold bars, jewellery and precious stones than have ever previously been salvaged from a warship wreck. What you see here is only a sample.
Perhaps sensing that many of the audience were too busy goggling at the treasure to pay him much attention, Forsyte quickly brought his speech to an end and invited questions from the media people. A forest of hands instantly shot up. Yes? he said, picking out the prettiest of the journalists.
Sir Roger, Neptune Marine Exploration is famous for the amount of preliminary research it does before starting an excavation project. You must have been aware of what youd find down there. But were there any surprises among the treasure?
Sam leaned close to Brookes ear. That girls a plant, she whispered.
What do you mean?
Just listen.
Forsyte chuckled. Apart from the sheer quantity and value of it? he said, and the crowd joined in his laughter. More seriously, he added, Well, in fact, we did make one highly unexpected discovery. He paused for effect. Its not on display yet, and Im afraid youll have to wait for me to reveal it.
There were groans and calls of Give us a clue and Come on, Sir Roger. Forsyte held up his palms. All in good time, my friends. I dont think youll be disappointed when we eventually make it public.
What a showman, Brooke thought. Forsyte certainly knew how to bait his hook. Whats the big surprise? she asked Sam.
Sam shrugged. You think hed tell me? I only run most of the company for him.
Now, enough talk, Forsyte said. Please feel free to wander among the displays, and of course theres still plenty more food and champagne to come. Enjoy. To a final thunderous roar of applause he stepped down from the podium and slipped away among a sea of arms reaching out to pat him on the back and shake his hand.
Sam turned to Brooke and tapped her watch. Now thats over, its party time. She seemed to notice for the first time that Amal was missing. Wheres your friend?
Hes ah
Best go and get him, eh? Wallys coming round with the car. Well be out of here in a few minutes.
At the bar, Brooke laid her hand on Amals shoulder and said, You okay? She knew the answer even before shed asked the question. There were four empty glasses lined up on the bar in front of him and he was hard at work on the fifth. That many gin and tonics wouldnt have put too big a dent in Ben Hopes sobriety but that was just one of the ways Amal differed greatly from Ben. His eyes were unfocused and his jaw was slack.
At the bar, Brooke laid her hand on Amals shoulder and said, You okay? She knew the answer even before shed asked the question. There were four empty glasses lined up on the bar in front of him and he was hard at work on the fifth. That many gin and tonics wouldnt have put too big a dent in Ben Hopes sobriety but that was just one of the ways Amal differed greatly from Ben. His eyes were unfocused and his jaw was slack.
Im fine, he slurred. Fresh as a daisy. He slid down off his bar stool, walked three steps and had to prop himself against a wall for support. Christ, he mumbled, clasping his head. I want to be in bed.
Oh, Amal, what have you done to yourself?
The cars waiting, Sam announced, materialising out of the crowd and pointing at a side exit. She was holding a laptop case and had slipped on a green cardigan over her dress. You two ready?
Amals not feeling well, Brooke told her. I dont think we can make it to the party.
Youre kidding, Sam said, reeling as if all her plans were crumbling.
No, no, Amal protested. Making an effort to speak coherently, he said very carefully, I dont want to be responsible for spoiling your evening. You go.
Hurry up and decide, guys, Sam said irritably, and headed towards the exit with a glance at her watch.
Brooke sighed. What about you?
Dont worry about me. Im still sober enough to call a cab.
Are you sure? Ive got no problem going back to the guesthouse with you. The party doesnt mean that much to me.
He wagged a finger at her. You came here to have a good time. Now go. I I command it.
Sam was waving at them from the open doorway, mouthing come on and gesticulating at the waiting Jaguar outside.
Youre quite sure? Brooke asked Amal.
Go and have fun, he muttered with a sickly smile. Go. Go.
She made her decision. Oh, what the hell. Ill see you for breakfast, then, she said. Sleep well, and take care, all right?
Amal watched as she left the building. The Jags engine was purring gently, its exhaust billowing in the cold night air. He couldnt make out the face of the driver, but recognised Sir Roger Forsyte in the back seat. Sam opened the rear door of the Jag, climbed in and slid along to the middle to make room for Brooke. With a final glance back at Amal, Brooke climbed in after her and closed the door.
The Jaguar took off towards the gates.
That was the last he saw of her.
Chapter Five
The pale light of the Sunday morning sun hauled Amal up from the dark, dreamless depths, and with consciousness came the first rush of nausea. Oh God, he groaned.
He lay miserably curled up under the covers for a while, nursing his throbbing headache and cursing himself for having drunk so much. What the hell had possessed him? A vision of a tall, frosted glass kept appearing in his mind, making his stomach threaten to flip. He realised he was fully clothed under the duvet. Oh, God, he repeated. Why? Why?
Gradually, the scattered pieces of his memory fitted themselves back together to form a coherent picture of the previous night. He remembered calling the taxi from the country club nothing at all about the car coming to pick him up, or the journey to the guesthouse. Only the vaguest recollection of letting himself in the door and managing to stagger up to bed.
Once he was fairly certain that the slightest movement wasnt going to trigger off a violent spate of vomiting, Amal gingerly hauled himself out of bed. He kicked off his shoes and left a trail of scattered clothing on the way to the bathroom. Showered, changed and feeling marginally more human, he left his room. It was twenty past eight. Brookes door across the landing was shut. He tapped lightly on it and murmured her name. When he got no reply, he figured she must either be downstairs or had come back so late last night that she was still sleeping.
Amal tramped heavily downstairs. The frying grease smell that wafted up to meet him was almost more than he could bear, but he managed not to puke as he wandered into the breakfast room.
No Brooke. No anybody, except for the landlady, Mrs Sheenan, who was in the adjoining kitchen frying up a mound of eggs and bacon that would have fattened the Irish Army.
Mrs Sheenan didnt appear to notice his presence, or hear his mumbled Good morning. That was partly due to the fact that she was half deaf something he and Brooke had discovered when theyd checked in to the place the day before and partly due to the blaring TV in the kitchen, which was turned up to full volume.
Amal dragged himself over to a table by the window, where Mrs Sheenan would be bound to notice him sooner or later. He couldnt stomach food, but yearned for a comforting mug of hot, sugary tea. He sat there for a few moments, gazing towards the misty bay and thinking how strangely out of his element he felt in this place, and then felt suddenly angry with himself for being so ungrateful towards as generous and warm-hearted a friend as Brooke. He started brooding once again over the way hed let her down by going and getting wasted. What a prat. He could only hope it hadnt totally ruined her evening.
Eight twenty-five. Amal was lucid enough by now to remember that theyd have to check out in about an hour and forty minutes time to catch their flight back to London. If Brooke wasnt awake soon hed have to go and rouse her. Then again, he thought, she might have been up for hours and be about to return any moment, rosy-cheeked and tousle-haired from a brisk walk or a run on the windy beach. That was more her style.