The Innocent's Surrender. Sara Craven

where was the god in the machine, so beloved in classical drama, who would descend to save the day?

      ‘But we are taking steps to regulate the situation,’ Stavros announced grandly. ‘To begin with, we plan a major refit of all the passenger accommodation on the Arianna line,’ he added, as if it were suddenly all his own idea, and Natasha found she was biting her lip again—hard.

      ‘Well,’ she said. ‘That’s—good.’ And certainly better late than never.

      ‘Except that the necessary finance is proving more difficult to obtain than we thought,’ Andonis added.

      But there’d been money set aside, Natasha recalled, startled. So what had happened to that? Better, she thought, not to ask, perhaps.

      But if they’d asked her here hoping for a loan, then they’d be seriously disappointed. Helping Out, the small business she’d started with the inheritance from her father, was established now, and doing well enough for her to have taken on a partner, and be thinking about expansion.

      Because there were always emergencies, large and small, in people’s lives. They might simply need their dogs walking, or their children collecting from school or nursery, or someone to house-sit while they were on vacation. Or there could be elderly relatives to be visited, or taken shopping.

      And, in the worst-case scenario of accident, illness or bereavement, they wanted someone calm and trustworthy to step in and take over. To make sure that meals were cooked, laundry was done and life went on with an element of stability until matters settled down.

      And it was infinitely satisfying to know that Helping Out had an excellent name for reliability, and that most of her clientele came on personal recommendation, even if they were a little surprised to find that both she and Molly Blake were only just past their twenty-first birthdays.

      The business provided Molly and herself with a decent living, because, while their fees were not extortionate, they did not sell the services of their staff cheaply. They employed good people, and made sure they were paid accordingly, and were not afraid to pitch in themselves when required.

      But at the moment, there wasn’t a lot of financial slack.

      ‘Of course, we are exploring every avenue,’ Stavros continued. ‘And we hope that the necessary loan will be available to us very soon.’ He paused. ‘But while the details are being finalised, we have to deal with another problem.’

      A kind of shiver went round the table—as if a chill breeze had suddenly rippled across a cornfield.

      ‘Unfortunately, news of our difficulties has reached other people.’ Andonis took up the tale of woe. ‘And if there is blood in the water, there will always be sharks circling. It was rumoured that some of our rivals were considering a hostile takeover, which was quite bad enough.’

      ‘Until two weeks ago.’ Stavros spoke with gritted teeth. ‘When we received an offer to buy outright a half-share in both the Arianna line and the cargo fleet.’

      There was a silence, then Natasha said carefully, ‘And you regard this as a problem, instead of a possible solution?’

      Andonis banged his fist on the table. ‘It was an insult.’

      ‘You mean, they were offering peanuts?’ Natasha mused aloud. ‘Well, that often happens with an initial bid.’

      ‘No,’ Stavros said harshly. ‘The money could be considered fair.’

      ‘And could always improve,’ she suggested tentatively. ‘If, as you say, there’s room for negotiation, it might be the answer.’

      And if I were in your situation, she added silently, I’d take the cash, while it’s there, because this might be as good as it gets. And, although the thought of an outside partner has always been anathema up to now, maybe beggars can’t be choosers.

      ‘That is not possible,’ Andonis said, glancing at his brother, their brooding anger almost tangible. ‘Not when it comes from such a source.’

      And Natasha drew a ragged breath as suddenly realisation dawned. Oh, God, she thought. Not that again. Not another episode in this eternal family feud. Please—please—don’t let it be that.

      Knowing all the time that her prayer would not be answered.

      She said quietly, ‘In other words—the Mandrakis Corporation.’ And watched the general recoil, as if she’d uttered some disgusting obscenity. She made an attempt at reason. ‘But surely that’s all behind us now that Thio Basilis is dead and Petros Mandrakis has retired.’

      ‘Then you are a fool to think so,’ Irini said with contempt. ‘Because in his place sits his son, Alexandros.’ She spat the name.

      ‘Alex Mandrakis?’ Natasha questioned incredulously. ‘The playboy of the western universe, and darling of the gossip columns? Oh, give me a break here.’ She snorted. ‘Judging by his reputation, he’s far more interested in making love than war.

      ‘Besides,’ she added brusquely, ‘he probably thinks the Arianna line is a string of polo ponies.’

      Andonis pulled a wry face. ‘Perhaps that is how he was. But he is now the head of the Mandrakis empire, and he is making everyone aware of the fact.’

      ‘But for how long?’ Natasha queried drily. ‘Until the après-ski beckons from the Alps, or the Floating Harem starts its summer cruise of the Med?’ She was referring to the tabloid Press’s nickname for the Mandrakis yacht, Selene, but regretted it when she saw Irini’s outraged expression.

      She shook her head. ‘Leopards don’t change their spots, brother, and he’ll soon get bored with being the latest tycoon, and revert to his former way of life.’

      ‘I wish we could think so,’ Andonis admitted. ‘But our information says that it is not so. That he is indeed his father’s son, and has therefore become a force to take account of. So we need to be wary.’

      ‘His father’s son,’ Natasha repeated silently. She stifled a sigh. If only the same could be said of either of you two, she thought without pleasure.

      ‘Because he is as much our enemy as his father ever was, or more.’ Irini was speaking again. ‘And he will not be content, that one, until the whole Papadimos family is finished—starving in the gutter.’

      Natasha’s lips tightened. ‘A little extreme surely,’ she said. ‘Stavros has just admitted that he’s offered a fair price for a share in both lines.’

      ‘Because he knows it will not be accepted,’ Andonis said. ‘That we would rather die first.’

      Unlikely, Natasha thought drily. Not if push actually comes to shove.

      ‘However,’ Stavros said with faint triumph, ‘we have let his interest become known among the bankers we have approached, and have said that we are giving the matter our serious consideration.’

      She frowned. ‘Why would you want to do that?’

      ‘Because having Alex Mandrakis as a business partner,’ Andonis said, ‘would be considered excellent security for any loan. A licence to print money, in fact.

      ‘Already attitudes to our request for refinancing are changing.’

      Stavros nodded. ‘In fact, an offer in principle was made almost as soon as we had explained our own terms for this partnership. Terms that appear to bind our mutual interests together like hoops of steel, and which we have already submitted to Alex Mandrakis.’

      There was a note in his voice that was almost gloating. ‘The delaying tactic I spoke of, little sister. Because he, of course, will eventually refuse these terms. We count on it. But not immediately, because he is clearly intrigued, and has even asked for certain…assurances from us, which we are prepared to give him, although, again, not immediately.’

      ‘We wish, you understand, to string him along,’ Andonis explained