Suddenly it was over. The spectator sat there, exhausted, shaken with spasms of pleasure, lungs filled with long, deep breaths. The girl had been punished.
The spectator felt like God.
Chapter 16
Zurich.
Friday, September 11.
Noon.
The World Headquarters of Roffe and Sons occupied sixty acres along the Sprettenbach on the western outskirts of Zurich. The administration building was a twelve-story modern glass structure, towering over a nest of research buildings, manufacturing plants, experimental laboratories, planning divisions, and railroad spurs. It was the brain center of the far-flung Roffe and Sons empire.
The reception lobby was starkly modern, decorated in green and white, with Danish furniture. A receptionist sat behind a glass desk, and those who were admitted by her into the recesses of the building had to be accompanied by a guide. To the right rear of the lobby was a bank of elevators, with one private express elevator for the use of the company president.
On this morning the private elevator had been used by the members of the board of directors. They had arrived within the past few hours from various parts of the world by plane, train, helicopter and limousine. They were gathered now in the enormous, high-ceilinged, oak-paneled boardroom; Sir Alec Nichols, Walther Gassner, Ivo Palazzi and Charles Martel. The only nonmember of the board in the room was Rhys Williams.
Refreshments and drinks had been laid out on a sideboard, but no one in the room was interested. They were tense, nervous, each preoccupied with his own thoughts.
Kate Erling, an efficient Swiss woman in her late forties, came into the room. "Miss Roffe's car has arrived."
Her eye swept around the room to make sure that everything was in order: pens, note pads, a silver carafe of water at each place, cigars and cigarettes, ashtrays, matches. Kate Erling had been Sam Roffe's personal secretary for fifteen years. The fact that he was dead was no reason for her to lower his standards, or hers. She nodded, satisfied, and withdrew.
Downstairs, in front of the administration building, Elizabeth Roffe was stepping out of a limousine. She wore a black tailored suit with a white blouse. She had on no makeup. She looked much younger than her twenty-four years, pale and vulnerable.
The press was waiting for her. As she started into the building, she found herself surrounded by television and radio and newspaper reporters, with cameras and microphones.
"I'm from L'Europeo, Miss Roffe. Could we have a statement? Who's going to take over the company now that your father - ?"
"Look this way, please, Miss Roffe. Can you give our readers a big smile?"
"Associated Press, Miss Roffe. What about your father's will?"
"New York Daily News. Wasn't your father an expert mountain climber? Did they find out how - ?"
"Wall Street Journal. Can you tell us something about the company's financial - ?"
"I'm from the London Times. We're planning to do an article on the Roffe - "
Elizabeth was fighting her way into the lobby, escorted by three security guards, pushing through the sea of reporters.
"One more picture, Miss Roffe - "
And Elizabeth was in the elevator, the door closing. She took a deep breath and shuddered. Sam was dead. Why couldn't they leave her alone?
A few moments later, Elizabeth walked into the boardroom. Alec Nichols was the first to greet her. He put his arms around her shyly and said, "I'm so sorry, Elizabeth. It was such a shock to all of us. Vivian and I tried to telephone you but - "
"I know. Thank you, Alec. Thank you for your note."
Ivo Palazzi came up and gave her a kiss on each cheek. "Cara, what is there to say? Are you all right?"
"Yes, fine. Thank you, Ivo." She turned. "Hello, Charles."
"Elizabeth, Helene and I were devastated. If there is anything at all - "
"Thank you."
Walther Gassner walked over to Elizabeth and said awkwardly, "Anna and I wish to express our great sorrow at what has happened to your father."
Elizabeth nodded, her head high. "Thank you, Walther."
She did not want to be here, surrounded by all the reminders of her father. She wanted to flee, to be alone.
Rhys Williams was standing off to one side, watching Elizabeth's face, and he was thinking, If they don't stop, she's going to break down. He deliberately moved through the group, held out his hand and said, "Hello, Liz."
"Hello, Rhys." She had last seen him when he had come to the house to bring her the news of Sam's death. It seemed like years ago. Seconds ago. It had been one week.
Rhys was aware of the effort it was costing Elizabeth to keep her composure. He said, "Now that everyone's here, why don't we begin?" He smiled reassuringly. "This won't take long."
She gave him a grateful smile. The men took their accustomed places at the large rectangular oak table. Rhys led Elizabeth to the head of the table and pulled out a chair for her. My father's chair, Elizabeth thought Sam sat here, chairing these meetings.
Charles was saying, "Since we do not have a - " He caught himself and turned to Alec. "Why don't you take over?"
Alec glanced around, and the others murmured approval. "Very well."
Alec pressed a button on the table in front of him, and Kate Erling returned, carrying a notebook.
She closed the door behind her and pulled up a straight chair, her notebook and pen poised.
Alec said, "I think that under the circumstances we can dispense with the formalities. All of us have suffered a terrible loss. But" - he looked apologetically at Elizabeth - "the essential thing now is that Roffe and Sons show a strong public face."