Looking down on the far side of the house, Elizabeth could see the balcony of one of the guest bedrooms. There were no flames there yet. But Elizabeth did not know whether she would be able to reach it. The roof slanted sharply downward, the slates were loose, the wind was pulling madly at her. If she slipped, there would be nothing to stop her fall. She stayed where she was, frozen, afraid to try it. And then, like a sudden miracle, a figure appeared on the guest balcony, and it was Alec, and he was looking up and calling out calmly, “You can make it, old girl. Nice and easy.”
And Elizabeth’s heart soared within her.
“Take it slow,” Alec counseled. “One step at a time. It’s a piece of cake.”
And Elizabeth began to let herself move toward him, carefully, sliding down inch by inch, not letting go of one slate until she had found a firm grip on another. It seemed to take forever. And all the while she heard Alec’s encouraging voice, urging her on. She was almost there now, sliding toward the balcony. A slate loosened, and she started to fall.
“Hold on!” Alec called.
Elizabeth found another hold, grabbing it fiercely. She had reached the edge of the roof now, with nothing below her but endless space. She would have to drop down onto the balcony where Alec stood waiting. If she missed…
Alec was looking up at her, his face filled with quiet confidence. “Don’t look down,” he said. “Close your eyes, and let yourself go. I’ll catch you.”
She tried. She took a deep breath, and then another. She knew she had to let go and yet she could not bring herself to do it. Her fingers were frozen to the tiles.
“Now!” Alec called, and Elizabeth let herself drop and she was falling into space, and suddenly she was caught in Alec’s arms as he pulled her to safety. She closed her eyes in relief.
“Well done,” Alec said.
And she felt the muzzle of the gun against her head.
CHAPTER 57
The helicopter pilot was flying as low as he dared over the island, skimming the tree tops, trying to avoid the punishing winds. Even at that altitude the air was filled with turbulence. In the distance ahead the pilot saw the mountain peak of Porto Cervo. Max saw it at the same moment. “There it is!” Max shouted. “I can see the villa.” And then he saw something else that made his heart jump. “It’s on fire!”
On the balcony Elizabeth heard the sound of the approaching helicopter over the wind, and she looked up. Alec paid no attention. He was watching Elizabeth, his eyes filled with pain. “It was for Vivian. I had to do it for Vivian. You see that, don’t you? They have to find you in the fire.”
Elizabeth was not listening. She could only think, It wasn’t Rhys. It wasn’t Rhys. All the time it had been Alec. Alec had killed her father and had tried to kill her. He had stolen the report and then tried to frame Rhys with it. He had terrified her into running away from Rhys because Alec had known that she would come here.
The helicopter had disappeared from sight now, beyond some nearby trees.
Alec said, “Close your eyes, Elizabeth.”
She said fiercely, “No!”
And Rhys’s voice suddenly called, “Drop the gun, Alec!”
They both looked down, and on the lawn below, in the light of the flickering flames, they saw Rhys and Chief of Police Luigi Ferraro and half a dozen detectives, armed with rifles.
“It’s finished, Alec,” Rhys shouted. “Let her go.”
One of the detectives with a telescopic rifle said, “I can’t shoot at him unless she moves out of the way.”
Move, Rhys prayed. Move!
From behind the trees across the lawn Max Hornung came hurrying up to Rhys. He stopped as he saw the tableau above. Rhys said, “I got your message. I was too late.”
They were both staring up at the two figures on the balcony, puppets, backlit by the rising flames coming from the far side of the villa. The wind was whipping the house into a gigantic torch, lighting the surrounding mountains, turning the night into an inferno, a blazing Valhalla.