He was right, Amanda thought with a heartfelt rush of gratitude. This place belonged to her father. They were walking now where he had been before them, their feet crunching on orbs of crystal that had broken away and shattered on the rock floor. This was one of the great natural mineral repositories of the world...and the justification of her father’s belief in himself.
‘It’s magic,’ she whispered, as strange shapes loomed up ahead, some fluorescing under the light of the torch, others taking on the appearance of transfigured images. ‘How far does it go?’
‘There are many caves.’
‘All like this?’
‘Some smaller, some larger.’
She thought it strange that the air did not smell musty. Perhaps she was intoxicated by the sheer splendour of light reflected into myriad fascinating fantasies by the crystals. Perhaps the crystals freshened the air.
Or maybe she was light-headed from the excitement coursing through her at the continual brushing of her body against his, thighs, hips, the nestling of her shoulder under his arm. It made her feel small, feminine, protected. He hugged her more firmly whenever she stumbled.
The caves were interlinked, apparently honeycombing a considerable part of the peak. She knew they were looking at untold wealth and could well imagine he
r father’s elation at having found one of the greatest treasures in the world. As a geologist he would have been in seventh heaven. Yet he had ended up in a personal hell.
Her feet faltered to a halt. ‘I’ve seen enough for today.’
‘As you will,’ came the quiet rejoinder. ‘There is always tomorrow.’
Amanda felt drained of the energy that had kept her going. All this had brought her father long-lasting misery. What had been done to him was unforgivably wrong. Her sense of injustice swelled as they started retracing their steps.
‘Why was my father’s discovery discredited?’ It was a painful cry of protest. ‘Why was the existence of the neodymite crystals suppressed?’
‘You realise it’s used as a catalyst in the manufacture of rocket fuel and other chemical processes?’
‘Yes.’
‘Your father refused to comprehend the consequences of what he had found,’ came the quiet and unemotional reply.
‘I don’t understand,’ she pleaded. ‘There is a vast wealth for your country here.’
‘I see death and destruction.’
‘It could be used for good...’
‘Don’t be naive, Amanda.’ His voice hardened.
‘Whoever controls the source of neodymite controls the future,’ she expostulated.
‘Do you imagine any of the world’s great powers would care what happened to Xabia and its people while they fought for their share of what is here?’
‘Mining the crystals could be managed for the benefit of the people,’ she insisted, not wanting to accept his dark view of inevitable consequences.
‘Xabia will not become another Kuwait,’ he went on remorselessly. ‘Neodymite crystals are more valuable than the black gold that motivates war. There would also be the price of corruption.’
The cold certainty in his voice dampened her ardour for argument. ‘Yet it cannot forever remain a secret.’
‘No geologist will ever be allowed to venture into this area again. Every trace of this discovery has been expunged from the records. It will remain so.’
It stirred a fierce resentment in Amanda. ‘You have no idea what that did to my father.’
‘Your father was blindly obsessed. He would not see the danger.’
‘He was an orphan. A homeless, Irish orphan. The butt of cruel jokes. You wouldn’t know what it’s like to be put down,’ she said heatedly, smarting from the memory of all her recent treatment from Charles Arnold.
‘We must all rise above such things.’