The Complete Ravenscar Trilogy: The Ravenscar Dynasty, Heirs of Ravenscar, Being Elizabeth

He truly understood about his heritage, his right to be head of this ancient company. He was the rightfulheir. Because of that he would never permit the progeny of usurpers to mismanage it, as Henry Grant was doing; and certainly he would oust the ‘stand-ins’, the affinity surrounding Grant, along with Grant himself.

Only a Deravenel by birth could be managing director or chairman, and, other than Grant, he was the only one available.

As he strode along the corridor to his father’s office which was now his, he thought of the diary. It had hardly been out of his mind since last night when his mother passed it on to him. It was invaluable; there was so much in it; so many guidelines from his father. It was going to be his Bible, and he would live by it. Every word was meaningful, and what possession of it had done was make him feel entitled.

He had only just taken off his overcoat and hung it up, when Alfredo came barrelling into the office, his arms full of books and papers. ‘Good morning, Mr Edward.’ Alfredo gave him a cheery grin from behind the books.

‘Good morning, Oliveri. Here, let me help you with all this stuff. And what is it, anyway?’

‘Homework, sort of. Yours, to be exact.’

‘Mine?’ Edward gave him a questioning look as he lifted some of the books and papers off the top of the pile. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Indeed I am.’ Oliveri deposited everything he was carrying on the desk, as did Edward, glancing at the titles as he did so. ‘Aha! Books on mining I see! And wine. And the making of Egyptian cotton. You want me to study these so I know something about the various divisions, what we trade in? Am I right?’

‘Yes. You said you have a good memory. Is that true?’

‘Absolutely. I wouldn’t lie to you. But why do you ask?’

‘Because you can’t just merely read, you’ve got to memorize some of this material, and there’s lots of it. Once you’re chairman of the company you will be in charge, and therefore you must know certain things, be able to hold your own with the heads of the various divisions, who are obviously knowledgeable. You’re going to be boss, you’ll be IT. I must make sure you’re fully prepared.’

Edward knew that Oliveri was deadly serious, meant every word he was saying, and he was touched that Oliveri had gone to all this trouble for him. ‘Thank you for doing this, for bringing all of these books and the material to me. Really, Oliveri, this is decent of you, very decent, and I appreciate it.’

Edward sat down behind the desk, and Alfredo pulled a chair closer, drew up to the desk. ‘Now shall we begin? I’d like to start with the Mining Division, because I am involved with that particular division, and you told me the other day you’re interested in diamonds, in the mining of them and—’

‘Listen to me for a moment,’ Edward cut in. ‘I have something quite extraordinary to tell you. My mother found the notebook.’

Alfredo’s eyes were startled as he gaped at Edward, and for a moment he was speechless.

‘Here it is,’ Edward said, taking the notebook out of his pocket and handing it to him. ‘See if you can make head or tail of it.’

Alone in his own office, Alfredo started at the beginning of the notebook, concentrating on every page, trying to understand the numbers, to decipher them. But they meant nothing to him. He could not fathom what Richard Deravenel had been getting at, nor could he hazard a guess about the person Richard referred to as compadre. Certainly Mr Richard had never called him that, nor had he ever discussed numbers.

He thought back to the last time they had seen each other…in Carrara, just before Mr Richard had been killed. The older man had complained bitterly about Grant in a most confiding way, and he had said he was alarmed about the spiralling problems in the company, Grant’s colleagues, and the problems with the Carrara marble quarries. But that was it. Alfredo had told Mr Edward everything he knew, although Edward Deravenel had somehow seemed to expect more. There was nothing more.

After an hour of studying the notebook, growing frustrated, Alfredo got up, put it in his pocket and went back to Edward’s office down the corridor.

Knocking, walking in, Alfredo exclaimed, ‘I’m sorry, I’m as baffled as you. Bloody annoying it is. The notebook is gibberish.’

Edward was standing in front of the enormous map of the world, which hung on the wall behind the huge Georgian partner’s desk. He swung around at the sound of Alfredo’s voice. There was a peculiar look on his face as he said slowly, in a low voice, ‘Come here, look at this.’

Staring at Edward, he asked, ‘But what is it? What’s wrong? You have a strange look on your face.’

‘Just come over here. Please.’

Alfredo did as he was asked, stood next to Edward in front of the map, remained uncomprehending.

Edward put his middle finger on his tongue, dampened it and touched a small number on the map. The ink ran, bled out. ‘Now look closely, see how the ink runs. That’s because the number’s been written on this map, not printed. And written by my father, of that I am sure. See, it’s the number two, and it sits up there at the top of India, just between Delhi and the Punjab. See it?’

‘Oh yes, indeed I do.’

‘Now look over here, at South Africa, that portion of the map. And you’ll see the number eleven. Let your eyes sweep over to South America, the number thirty-nine is written there?’ Stepping back slightly, looking closely at Oliveri, Edward asked, ‘So you tell me…what do those three numbers have in common?’

It was obvious that Alfredo was excited. ‘The numbers are written on the countries where Deravenels have mines…diamond mines in India, gold mines in South Africa, and emerald mines in South America.’

‘Correct!’ Edward grinned at him.

‘My God, how did you discover the numbers?’ Glancing at the map, again, Alfredo added, ‘They’re barely visible, you almost need a magnifying glass to find them.’

Pointing to the books open on his desk, Edward explained swiftly, ‘I was reading about diamond mines in India, especially the famous Golconda mines. I knew ours were somewhere nearby, in that vicinity, so I got up to look at the map. I noticed the number there all of a sudden, almost by accident, just below the Punjab, and I realized it hadn’t been printed on the map, but written by hand. My eyes roved over the entire map, I was so intrigued, and I kept finding numbers…’ He broke off, shook his head. ‘It hit me then! The countries which were numbered were those which were repeated so often in my father’s notebook.’

Oliveri was nodding his head slowly, enlightenment spreading across his pale face. ‘Listen, your father gave each country a number, and then used the number in the notebook instead of a name. It was a coding system. I think he didn’t want anyone to know which countries he was targeting for some reason. Anyone picking the notebook up would be baffled, but not at all baffled if he had written out the names of the countries.’

‘But why didn’t he want anyone to know which countries he was referring to?’

‘I think he stumbled onto something. In Carrara he told me he was not only worried about the quarries there, which were dwindling, but lots of the other mines as well. I asked him if they, too, were dwindling down and he said no, there were other difficulties. But he didn’t go any further than that.’

Alfredo took the notebook out of his pocket and passed it to Ned, then went and sat down in the chair. ‘You’d better have that. I’d hate to lose it.’

Sitting down himself, Edward confided, ‘I think I know who he meant by compadre. My uncle, Rick Watkins.’

Alfredo frowned. ‘Why Rick?’

‘Because they were the best of friends, true compadres, and had been close for donkey’s years. Rick was my mother’s brother, and therefore family, and obviously someone he trusted absolutely. Then there’s yet another thing, Rick Watkins was probably one of the greatest magnates in this country, in fact, there was no other tycoon like him. Therefore, my father could rely on his judgement, any advice he gave. It just made sense to me as I was staring at the map. Rick came into my mind, and I knew I was right.

‘I agree. Who better than Rick Watkins to advise your father? Unless it is his son.’

‘True. However, I’m sure my father was much closer to Neville’s father.’

Sitting back in his chair, staring out into space for a moment or two, Edward seemed lost, drifting into another world, a world only he could envision. Then he sat up abruptly, and looked at Alfredo intently. Lowering his voice, he said, ‘That’s why Rick and Thomas were killed. They were murdered on purpose. Not because they just happened to be there in Carrara. The Grant faction was afraid of Rick Watkins, his power, his wealth, his brilliance as a businessman. They knew if push came to shove Rick Watkins would throw everything he had at them, to support my father and his claim for the top job at Deravenels. My brother was murdered because he was a Deravenel, a contender for the top job if anything happened to me.’

Pale as he was, Alfredo appeared to grow paler. He did not speak for a moment, sat mulling over the things Edward Deravenel had just said. Finally, after a few minutes, he murmured, ‘I can’t argue with you, Mr Edward, I really can’t. I think you are right. And—’

The door of the office burst open, swinging back violently on its hinges. ‘So here you are,’ a woman’s shrill voice exclaimed, and as she strode into the room Edward knew at once that this was Margot Grant.

He had met her several times, but long ago when he was much younger, and he had forgotten how very beautiful she was. Her skin was devoid of colour, absolutely white and flawless, her hair raven black and luxuriant, glossy, upswept into the latest style. Large, luminous black eyes stared out from under perfectly arched black brows. Her incomparable and rather dramatic beauty was matched by her slender, willowy figure and her clothes, which were the height of current fashion and expensively chic.

Coming fully into the room, she closed the door behind her and gave Edward a cursory look, then turned her attention on Alfredo Oliveri furiously.

‘I’ve been looking all over for you!’ she cried in perfect English only slightly accented. ‘How dare you hold these meetings about the Carrara quarries without my presence!’

Alfredo took a deep breath, obviously striving to control his temper. ‘The matter is urgent, and you were not here last week, Mrs Grant. Because of the urgency I held my meetings with Aubrey Masters and other executives involved in the mining division. But you know all this. And there is nothing wrong with my doing that, you know.’

‘I represent my husband at this moment in time. I run this company, and I will not tolerate insubordination.’

‘There wasn’t any,’ Alfredo shot back. ‘And I won’t have you suggesting that there was.’

‘You must not speak to me in that tone—’