Page 5 (1/2)

BOOK ONE

Chapter 1

Istanbul

Saturday, September 5

Ten pm

He was seated in the dark, alone, behind the desk of Hajib Kafir, staring unseeingly out of the dusty officeat the timeless minarets of Istanbul He was a man' as at home in a dozen capitals of the world, but Istanbul was one of his favorite cities Not the tourist Istanbul of Beyoglu Street, or the gaudy Lalezab Bar of the Hilton, but the out-of-the-way places that only the Moslems knew: the yalis, and the small markets beyond the souks, and the Telli Baba, the cemetery where only one person was buried, and the people came to pray to him

His waiting had the patience of a hunter, the quiet stillness of a man in control of his body and his eood looks of his ancestors He had black hair and a strong face, and quick intelligent eyes that were a deep blue He was over six feet tall, with the lean ood physical condition The office was filled with the odors of Hajib Kafir, his sickly sweet tobacco, his acrid Turkish coffee, his fat, oily body Rhys Willia about the telephone call he had received from Chamonix an hour earlier

"A terrible accident! Believe me, Mr Williams, we are all devastated It happened so quickly that there was no chance to save him Mr Roffe was killed instantly"

Saest pharmaceutical coirdled the globe It was i dead He had always been so vital, so full of life and energy, ain airplanes that raced him to company factories and offices all over the world, where he solved problems others could not deal with, created new concepts, pushed everyone to do h he had married, and fathered a child, his only real interest had been the business Sam Roffe had been a brilliant and extraordinarythe enormous empire he had left? Sam Roffe had not chosen an heir apparent But then, he had not planned to die at fifty-two He had thought there would be plenty of time

And now his time had run out

The lights in the office suddenly flashed on and Rhys Williams looked toward the doorway, momentarily blinded

"Mr Williams! I did not know anyone was here"

It was Sophie, one of the coned to Rhys Williams whenever he was in Istanbul She was Turkish, in her middle twenties, with an attractive face and a lithe, sensuous body, rich with promise She had let Rhys know in subtle, ancient ways that she was available to bring him whatever pleasures he wished, whenever he desired them, but Rhys was not interested

Now she said, "I returned to finish some letters for Mr Kafir" She added softly, "Perhaps there is so I can do for you?"

As she moved closer to the desk, Rhys could sense the musky smell of a wild animal in season

"Where is Mr Kafir?"

Sophie shook her head regretfully "He has left for the day" She smoothed the front of her dress with the palms of soft, clever hands "Can I help you in some way?" Her eyes were dark and moist

"Yes," Rhys said "Find him"

She frowned "I have no idea where he could - "

"Try the Kervansaray, or the Mermara" It would probably be the former, where one of Hajib Kafir's h you never kneith Kafir, Rhys thought He ht even be with his wife

Sophie was apologetic "I will try, but I am afraid I - "

"Explain to hier has a job"

The expression on her face changed "I will see what I can do, Mr Williams" She started toward the door

"Turn out the lights"

Sohts The i Mont Blanc should have been an easy climb this time of the year, early September Sam had tried the cli the peak

"I'll plant the coly

And then the telephone call a short while ago as Rhys was checking out of the Pera Palace He could hear the agitated voice on the telephone "They were doing a traverse over a glacierMr Roffe lost his footing and his rope brokeHe fell into a bottomless crevasse"

Rhys could visualize Sa doard into the crevasse He forced his mind away from the scene That was the past There was the present to worry about now The members of Sam Roffe's family had to be notified of his death, and they were scattered in various parts of the world A press announceh international financial circles like a shock wave With the company in the midst of a financial crisis, it was vital that the impact of Sam Roffe's death be minimized as much as possible That would be Rhys's job

Rhys Williams had first met Sam Roffe nine years earlier Rhys, then twenty-five, had been salesfirm He was brilliant and innovative, and as the company had expanded, Rhys's reputation had quickly spread He was offered a job at Roffe and Sons and when he turned it down, Saht the company Rhys worked for and sent for hi power of Sa

"You belong here at Roffe and Sons," Saht that horse-and-buggy outfit you ith"

Rhys had found himself flattered and irritated at the same time "Suppose I don't want to stay?"

Sam Roffe had smiled and said confidently, "You'll want to stay You and I have so in common, Rhys We're both a to show you how"

The words were er that burned in the youngthat Sam Roffe did not: There was no Rhys Williams He was a myth that had been created out of desperation and poverty and despair

He had been born near the coalfields of Gwent and Carmarthen, the red scarred valleys of Wales where layers of sandstone and saucer-shaped beds of lirew up in a fabled land where the very names were poetry: Brecon and Pen-y Fan and Penderyn and Glyncorrwg and Maesteg It was a land of legend, where the coal buried deep in the ground had been created 280 million years before, where the landscape was once covered with so many trees that a squirrel could travel froround But the industrial revolution had coreen trees were chopped down by the charcoal burners to feed the insatiable fires of the iron industry