Deadlock

TWELVE

"DID YOU GET THEM? IT T 0 0 K you long enough." Emily asked as she saw Garrett come across the marble lobby of the courthouse. "No problem?"

"No problem." He gestured to the file in his hand as he opened the door leading to the parking lot. "I copied everything I could get my hands on. They had to have everything Mikhail Zelov wrote translated into English for the court case. And there were all kinds of documents verifying the authenticity and accuracy of the translations."

"I still don't understand why the family didn't lock the records down as confidential."

"I do. As long as the records didn't give out any information that they didn't want leaked, it was better for their image. It was a defensive move. They could prove to the world that Mikhail was nuts and that they weren't greedy bloodsuckers." He opened the passenger door of the car for her. "Which means we probably aren't going to find any¬thing vitally important in the transcripts."

"It's a start. We'll get to know Mikhail Zelov and the way he thinks. It could become important later." She asked, "How long will it take us to get to the airport?"

"About fifteen minutes. It's not far from here." Garrett's phone rang as they pulled out of the parking lot. "Dardon." He listened, then said, "Okay, whatever it takes." He hung up. "Pauley hasn't completed the job. He's coming with us. He's at the airport with Dardon."

"He didn't think he would finish." She glanced at him. "And you said that he could be valuable, didn't you?"

"That's what I said." He looked straight ahead, negotiating the traffic. "It's amazing that, considering all the laws in the U.S., traffic still remains a major problem."

She didn't let him skate away from the issue. "Well, is Pauley valu¬able or not?"

"He's valuable," he said flatly.

"Then why don't you want him to go?"

He looked directly at her. "I'm jealous. I don't like to be jealous. It's childish and primitive. I'd rather avoid feeling either."

"Oh." She hadn't expected that degree of frankness. "Like Dar¬don? Because Pauley's so bright?"

"No," he said crisply. "Because I want to jump into bed with you, and I don't like the idea of his doing it. Or you even contemplating sex with our Adonis of the Internet."

She could feel the heat in her cheeks. "I wasn't contemplating any such-"

"Good. Then we won't talk about it. You wanted to probe about Pauley. I was honest and let you know the problem. Now we'll forget it until one of us decides to deal with it."

She was silent a moment. "Yes, we'll forget it." Then she burst out, "But you made me feel awkward as hell. How am I going to look at Pauley without remembering what you said?"

"Exactly." He was entering the freeway. "I might have had that in mind, too."

Clever. She felt that flash of irritation again. She smoldered for a moment, then shrugged. "I can handle it. Of course, it will make me much more aware of him." She saw his hands tighten on the steering wheel. Good. "And I've never slept with an Adonis of the Internet. You've made me wonder what it would-"

"You little devil." He was smiling faintly and shaking his head. "I think we'd better go back to talking about the traffic."

That would be safer, she thought. She had no idea why she had been tempted into goading him. She had never been a tease, and yet she had taken a sly enjoyment out of teasing Garrett. It might be be¬cause it held an element of danger. He was very sophisticated and had learned control in the trenches, but you were always aware that it was control and that darkness and violence lay waiting beneath.

But what was amazing was that she could even feel or think of anything besides Staunton and the search for the hammer. No, Irana had said she was coming back to life. Sex and emotion and all the other facets of living were gradually coming back to her. She should reach out to them. It was a way of proving to herself that Staunton had not permanently damaged her.

Reach out to Garrett? The cure might be worse than the sickness.

"Traffic," she repeated. "I don't think this traffic is so bad. At least we Americans respect the law. It's only occasional assholes that think they own the road."

"You still consider yourself an American? You've batted around so many countries, I wondered if you had lost your attachment."

She shook her head. "I'm not a citizen of the world. I'm a down-to-earth, flag-waving American. I always will be. I had to go to other countries for my job, but this is home. When I stop roaming, I want to get a nice house on the beach down in North Carolina."

"Why North Carolina?"

"My father grew up near the coast there and he loved it. Some of the best times of my childhood were the weeks we spent together there. I want to be near the ocean and the woods so that I can dig out my camera and take pictures of wildlife like my father. I'll go to foot¬ball games and have cookouts and every Fourth of July I'll send up fireworks. I can understand Mikhail Zelov wanting to remind his family of their roots. It's important." She looked at him. "What about you? Irana said your father was an American."

His lips lifted in a sardonic smile. "He never inspired me to any sense of patriotism. If anything, I wondered what kind of country could produce a man like him. I never visited the U.S. until I was in my twenties, and by that time it was too late to put down roots."

"Where do you have roots?"

He shrugged. "Nowhere. I guess the closest I've come is Mykala Island."

"That's not good."

He smiled. "It's life, Emily. We all can't have everything you re¬gard as important."

But she wanted Garrett to have it. It hurt her somehow that he hadn't had the solid start that her father had given her. She hadn't real¬ized until after her father had died how important and valuable those years with him had been. "Then you should set out and make sure you put down roots yourself so that your children will have them."

He blinked. "Now we're talking about my children? How did we get so far from lousy traffic?"

"I don't know." She shook her head. "Sorry. I didn't mean to in¬trude on your privacy. Maybe you don't even want to have children."

"I do. I just never thought about it." He smiled. "I didn't realize I had to prepare the way for them. This is our exit." He got off the free¬way. "I'll have to take my responsibilities in that direction under con¬sideration." He glanced in his rearview mirror. "We may have a tail."

"What?" She glanced back over her shoulder. A tan Toyota was the only car behind them. "Why do you think that?"

"He exited behind us. He's been behind us on the freeway."

"Did you see him before that?"

"You mean at the courthouse?" He shook his head. "But I might not have noticed. I was a little distracted by the conversation."

As Emily had been. "If we're being followed, they must have been waiting at the courthouse. We wouldn't have picked them up on the freeway."

"I'm not sure it's a tail. I'm just naturally suspicious. Let's see." He sped up, glancing at the mirror. "They're speeding up, too. I don't think it's 'monkey see, monkey do.' " He slowed, then sped up again. "I'd say it's confirmed."

"They just want to see where we're going?"

"No, this isn't like one of Ferguson's guys tagging us and report¬ing back to him. I don't think this is a simple tail. They're waiting for something."

Her hands slowly clenched. "You can't lose them, can you?" The road they were traveling was a straight one, with only woods on both sides. "This isn't the city."

"It would be damn hard."

"Then what are they waiting for?"

"I don't know. A little more privacy? If so, they're going to get it soon. The turnoff for the airport is just ahead. There's a half-mile stretch that's virtually deserted."

"Maybe we should go straight ahead."

"No, I need to get rid of them. But as soon as we make the turn, I'm going to pull over, and I want you to get out and go into the brush before they see you."

"And leave you alone? Not likely."

"Emily, do what I say."

"Garrett, hell, no."

He gave her an exasperated glance as he made the turn. "Dammit, this is no game."

"Staunton may be in that car."

"Oh shit." He sped up as the Toyota came around the corner. "Keep down."

The Toyota had sped up too, and was getting closer. Emily craned her head to see if she could recognize the driver or the man in the pas¬senger seat. They weren't near enough yet.

"Emily."

"No." She was able to make out the two men now. The driver was dark-haired, swarthy. The man in the passenger seat was fair-haired and thin. "It's not Staunton."

"Then will you please get down," Garrett said through clenched teeth. "They're right on top of us."

"They're trying to pull alongside," Emily said.

"Great surprise." Garrett said.

And the fair-haired man in the passenger seat was aiming a gun at Garrett!

"Down, dammit!" Garrett swerved sideways and hit the Toyota. A bullet shattered the back window as the gunman was jarred by the impact.

Before the man in the Toyota could recover, Garrett hit the car again, sending it spinning toward the edge of the road.

Another bullet, this time burying itself in the metal holding the windshield.

Garrett went after the car, giving it another swipe that sent it off the road and bouncing down an incline and into a ditch.

"Get over into the driver's seat." Garrett was out of the car in an instant. "Get to the airport and bring Dardon and Pauley. It should only take you a few minutes. Don't argue. I'm going to need help."

Then why isn't he coming with me, she thought desperately as she stomped on the accelerator. He had darted to the side of the road and disappeared into the brush. She wanted to go after him. If he needed help, she wanted to be the one to give it to him.

But Dardon was better equipped to deal with a situation like this.

Hurry, get Dardon and Pauley.

And get back here before Garrett is killed.

"STAY HERE, EMILY." 0 A R D 0 N jumped out of the car and started slipping and sliding down the slope toward the ditch. "Pauley!"

Emily ignored him and was right behind them as they reached the car. The driver was crumpled against the wheel. There was no sign of Garrett or the fair-haired man who had been shooting at them.

Pauley checked the driver. "Dead. Broken neck."

The impact of the car or Garrett? Emily had a memory of Gar¬rett's arm around Shafir Ali's neck in that tent in the mountains.

Dardon was already moving toward the brush, examining the way the leaves were lying and the broken branches. "This way, I think."

"No." Pauley was moving toward the north. "I think I heard something…"

"Dammit, Pauley."

"I heard something."

Emily had heard it too. Low, scarcely audible. A groan? A scream? She started at a run after Pauley.

But they had gotten only a few yards into the woods when they saw Garrett moving toward them.

Dizzying relief surged through her.

"You're not hurt?"

He shook his head. "But we'd better get out of here before anyone comes. Someone might have heard those shots. Two dead bodies are hard to explain."

Dardon's gaze went to the direction from which Garrett had come. "Do you know who he was?"

"The shooter was Sal Caprini. I don't know the name of the other man. The address on Caprini's driver's license was in New Jersey." He turned to Emily. "Staunton sent him. Orders were to kill me, take you."

"He told you that?"

"Yes." He smiled faintly. "It was sort of a deathbed confession." He tossed a phone to Pauley. "See if you can retrieve Staunton's number from Caprini's phone, in case we need it. It won't be easy. Staunton would be very careful."

"A challenge," Pauley said. "You do like to keep me stimulated."

"Yes. That's the only stimulation I want you to indulge in while you're on my payroll." He took Emily's elbow. "Come on. We have to get out of here. Dardon, is the plane ready?"

"Almost. Fifteen minutes after we get to the airport."

Emily looked back at the Toyota crashed in the ditch as they reached the road.

"Forget it," Garrett said. "Caprini and his friend would have served you up to Staunton and not given a damn what he did with you."

"I know that. It just happened so… quickly." And with brutal efficiency. She realized that Garrett hadn't really needed Dardon. He'd only wanted to get rid of her. Then he'd gone down and taken care of those men, those murderers, himself. There were moments that she forgot how lethal he was, but then it could be brought back to her with jarring suddenness. Had he killed the driver, too? She wouldn't ask him. Nor would she talk to him about Caprini. He had probably saved her and certainly his own life. She had no right to question how he did it. "Will the police be after us about this?"

"They will unless I can get in touch with Ferguson and use him to run interference. He has contacts. We'll see if he can get a cleanup crew out here."

She looked at him in surprise. "Again?"

"He won't like it, but he might as well make himself useful. It shouldn't be as hard as the one in Kabul. They both died of broken necks that could have happened in the accident. I'd bet Caprini has a record as long as my arm." He shrugged. "I can only try."

And Garrett would probably be successful if he tried, she thought. He seemed to be a master manipulator. She would never have guessed that Ferguson would have agreed to the deal in Kabul. Garrett seemed to know how to press just the right buttons.

"What are you thinking?" His gaze was narrowed on her face as he opened the car door for her.

"I was thinking that you're a very talented man."

"Oh, yes." He glanced back at the ditch. "And you particularly ad¬mire one of my talents." He slammed the door, ran around, and got into the driver's seat. "I've validated your opinion again, haven't I?"

"I'm not saying-" She stopped as Dardon and Pauley reached the car. It was just as well. She was too emotional right now to think, much less speak clearly. But she had to say one thing. "You saved my life. I'm not about to judge you." She looked straight ahead. "Now, can we please get out of here?"

Tangiers, Morocco

BORG STRAIGHTENED AWAY FROM the curved archway as he saw Irana Povak come out of the Roman Catholic church across the street. She slipped her scarf off her head and started down the winding street toward the clinic. Watch and wait, Staunton had said. Find an oppor¬tunity. Any repeat routine activity might be the ticket that would let him get his hands on her.

The Povak woman had only been inside the church for forty-five minutes, but that might be an opportunity. The bitch had once been a nun, and she might make regular visits to the church for prayer and confession.

That could be his chance. God knows, he didn't see any other way. As he'd told Staunton, she was never out of the sight of one of Dar¬don's guards. Even now he could see a security guard who was strolling after her at a discreet distance but still staying close.

It might be better to be inside the church when she got there to¬morrow. He'd managed to bug her cell phone, but that might not help get the information he needed. He'd ask some discreet questions at the clinic or bribe someone to tell him when she left the clinic to go to the church.

And, if he was prepared, there might be no more waiting and watching. He'd swoop down and take her before she knew what was happening and give her to Staunton. He smiled at the thought. Borg knew Staunton, and if he was frustrated about Emily Hudson, he wouldn't hesitate to play games with Irana Povak. Borg was beginning to look forward to those games.

By all means, go to church and say your prayers, bitch. You'll need them.

EMILY LOOKED DOWN AT THE Atlantic as their jet took off over the water. "So easy," she murmured. "No customs. No Homeland Se¬curity…"

"Not easy at all. It takes a great deal of money and knowing the right people," Garrett said. "Bribes for this kind of thing are very ex¬pensive in this day and age."

"But all it takes is money." She looked up at him. "It scares me. All these terrorists' threats, and all it takes is money to skirt around the tightest security measures."

"What can I say?"

"Nothing. I'm abusing the system, and I have no right to com¬plain. But I am complaining. I resent the fact that it can be done. I re¬sent the fact that my country is at risk."

"Not from me, Emily."

"No." She leaned back in her seat. "Not from you. In your way, you're one of the good guys."

He chuckled. "Whatever gave you that idea?" "Irana told me."

"Then of course it must be true." He shook his head. "And after what happened before we got on this plane, your faith in her judg¬ment isn't shaken?"

"No." Emily reached for the envelope containing the court rec¬ords. "Because it's not entirely her judgment. Now, I'm going to read these translations and see if I can get a handle on Mikhail Zelov."

"Do you want me to take some of that testimony and work on it?"

"No, I want to do it myself. Why don't you go see if Pauley has managed to hack into that phone company database?"

"I'm obviously being sent on my way." He stood up. "By all means let me run along. I wouldn't want to disturb you." He glanced back at her. "Actually, that's a lie. I do want to disturb you. But not that way, Emily."

Damn him.

She watched him walk away toward the seats near the cockpit, where Dardon and Pauley were sitting. He did disturb her. Just notic¬ing the way he walked bothered her. Springy, catlike, athletic. What the hell was wrong with her?

She knew what was wrong. She had become too aware of him as her emotions had come back to life. That sexual magnetism was grow¬ing stronger the longer she was with him.

Ignore it.

Work.

Read about Mikhail Zelov.

GARRETT DIDN'T COME BACK until they were over Sweden. "You've been working for hours. Am I permitted to talk to you now?" He dropped down in the chair beside her. "And, no, Pauley hasn't gotten through yet. He says he's getting closer."

"Good," she said absently as she looked up from the transcript. She was glad to see him, glad to see anyone who would bring her out of Zelov's world. She moved her shoulders as if shrugging off a bur¬den. That's what she felt like, she thought. Heavy and carrying a crushing weight of evil and hatred. "There wasn't much in his letters except arrogance and demands on his family. It's in his journal that he let's you see him as he is."

"Was he as nuts as his family claimed?"

"Maybe. Like Hitler was nuts. He wanted to take over the world. He hated everything and everyone. He wanted to be emperor or the Pope. I can't tell you the contempt he felt for Tsar Nicholas. It's in¬credible that he managed to hide it from him. He worked there in the royal household and saw him almost every day."

"What about his relationship with Rasputin?"

"He regarded him as a puppet, as we thought. They were both of peasant birth, and Zelov was able to feed Rasputin's ambition and push him toward being the figurehead he wanted him to be."

"Why did he want a figurehead? If he had that kind of ego, I'd think he'd be willing to risk trying to take the power himself."

"He would have risked it. There was nothing wrong with his nerve." She flipped through the pages until she came to the one that she wanted. "Here, read this. It's one of the passages from when he and Rasputin were at the height of their power. It may give you an in¬sight into Zelov." She leaned back, watching as he read the passage.

/ had to sternly chastise Rasputin today. His arrogance and woman¬izing are beginning to make the Tsarina suspicious of him. She is a fool, but she has eyes to see and ears to hear the gossip. How can I convince her that he is a holy man when he fornicates with half the women of the city? Holy man? He is a joke. He has a few meager talents, but I am the one who could shake their souls if I decided to unleash my powers. I am the holy one. I could heal that woman's puny young son if I decided to do it. Instead, I had to stop only one of his bleeding fits and give credit to Rasputin. Now she believes he is a god.

I am the god.

I was tempted to come forward on that day and tell them all what fools they were, how little they were in comparison to me. And then I thought of doing what Rasputin is doing and mesmerizing all this court with my power and personality. I could do it. I can do anything.

No, I must subdue this anger. I chose this role, and I must live with it. I set Rasputin to play the sorcerer and holy man of God for a reason. These fools are uneasy around me. I smile. I keep my hatred close to my heart. Still, they distance themselves from me. I believe they sense that they have a god in their midst.

Yet the women of the town spread their legs for thatfool, Rasputin. There are rumors that he may be sleeping with the Tsarina and I can¬not tolerate that stupidity. I have the Tsar within my sights, and I will soon have everything I wish from him.

I believe I will take Rasputin back to Jerusalem on a pilgrimage and get him away from the Tsarina. Then when he comes back with 'supposed' new holy powers, I can start fresh. If he's good and obeys me, perhaps I'll give Rasputin one of the grand duchesses to play with. They're pretty enough, and I can make them think coupling with Rasputin will get them closer to God. Much safer for me and Rasputin than his bedding the Tsarina. Though she's so enamored with the idea of his being holy that she probably thinks the Church would bless their fornication.

I think it's time I took aim at the Church. It has too much influ¬ence with the Tsar. I will have to break its hold on him even if it means destroying or discrediting those greedy bastards. Churches can fall even as monarchies can fall. Priests can be burned at the stake even as Tsars can be shot and bludgeoned.

I can do it. I can do anything. As long as I'm able to control that idiot Rasputin.

"Not exactly a sterling character," Garrett said. "Let's see, he had it in for the monarchy, the Tsar, the Tsarina, the Church, and Rasputin. Have I left out anyone?"

"Not in this passage. You should read the rest. He's quite a piece of work. He did go back to Jerusalem, and I don't know if he arranged to give one of those pretty daughters of the Tsar to Rasputin for sex, but he was trying to choose which one was safest for seduction." "Shades of Anastasia," Garrett murmured.

"No, she was too young. She might talk," Emily said. "Olga was in contention, but he was leaning toward Maria." She shook her head. "It nearly made me sick. All that evil. All that corruption. And those royal children caught in the middle of it."

"It's clear he truly believed he had psychic powers." Garrett said. "Maybe he did."

"Why do you say that?"

"This was written years before the Tsar's death, but that was how he died. He and his entire family were shot, then bludgeoned with ri¬fle butts."

"Coincidence."

"Maybe." He gazed down at the transcript. "Zelov said he was near getting what he wanted from the Tsar. What did he want?"

She shrugged. "The throne? Money? Influence?"

"He was practical. He'd know that a throne would be out of the question for a peasant."

"But power wouldn't be impossible. The revolution was right around the corner. Maybe he was a Communist?"

"If he was, then it was an ideology of convenience. And he had in¬fluence through Rasputin. No, it had to be money."

"And judging by that castle he built in Connecticut, he must have gotten all he needed. How?"

"The Tsarina and her daughters were vulnerable. I've seen photos of their jewels. They're fantastic. More opulent than the crown jewels of England."

"But he specified something from the Tsar. The Tsarina and her daughters were merely an annoyance he had to tolerate. Does he men¬tion anything specific later?"

"No. He talks a lot about Rasputin. He gets pretty vicious toward the end of this ledger. Evidently Rasputin could be charming, if a lit¬tle mad. Zelov resented that side of him. I suppose he wanted him un¬der his thumb. He goes off on diatribes about the Church and how he was going to usurp its power. The venom got worse as the Church in¬creasingly turned on Rasputin and tried to influence the Tsarina to forbid him to come to court."

"And at what point does the ledger end?"

"A few months before Zelov left for America. He makes some kind of enigmatic comment that the time had come for his words to be put forth surrounded by the light cast by his Book of Living. So he must have continued his ledger in the book itself."

"The Book of Living again. No threats toward Rasputin? No dire plans of murder?"

She shook her head. "Just the same contempt he always felt for him. No change at all."

"What about any of the other letters? Any connection?"

"He seems to have cut the ties to Russia entirely once he left."

"Yet he built a Russian castle and wanted his children to speak Russian."

"Arrogance. He was always right, remember? Including his lan¬guage."

"And we're back to the question of where he got the money to build that castle." He gathered the pages and put them back in the en¬velope. "If you don't mind, I'll take a look at these."

"I don't mind. But you're not going to find anything."

"Probably not. But, like you, I want to get a handle on Zelov. For instance, he hated the Russian Orthodox Church. Why?"

"They had too much influence on the royal family."

"Enough for him to try to bring them down? It seems a little ex¬treme."

"He was extreme."

"You've got that right." He smiled. "And maybe it had something to do with his belief that he was supremely holy because of his psychic powers. Didn't you say he belonged to the Khlysty sect when he first met Rasputin?"

"Yes. That's where Rasputin read Zelov's book. We need that book. We didn't find out nearly enough from these transcripts."

"We knew we wouldn't. Don't be unreasonable."

"Shut up. I feel like being unreasonable."

"Then by all means continue." He looked out the window. "We should be arriving in Moscow soon."

"I suppose you've got a way to get into that country, too, that avoids their version of Homeland Security?"

"Yes, I wouldn't favor one country over another. It should please you that other countries are also vulnerable."

"It doesn't please me," she said wearily. "I wish there was no need for security anywhere."

"I do believe you're an idealist."

"There's nothing wrong with that. I hate war. I've spent a good portion of my life trying to save beauty from the beasts. I saw how those monsters can savage what should be treasured."

"So have I," he said quietly, his gaze on her face. "And that's why we're going after Staunton."

She couldn't look away from him. She tried to smile. "I'm no na¬tional treasure."

"No." His hand closed around her own. "But a treasure all the same."

She stared down at their joined hands. She should move away. She was aware of an intimacy that was not intense, just warm, and com¬fortable. Yet it was probably a more dangerous closeness than a more sensual connection.

She didn't move away.

Instead, she glanced away and out the window at the clouds. "Where are we going to stay after we land?"

"Dardon has arranged for us to stay in a farmhouse outside Moscow."

"Why Moscow?"

"We don't know where we're going to have to go until Pauley tells us. It's as good a place as any," he said. "And it's a hub."

"I've never been to Moscow. I've been to other places in Russia and the Republic of Georgia on the job. Maybe I'll see the church that Zelov's house was built to resemble."

"We're not sightseeing." His hand tightened on hers. "But if you want to see anything in the whole damn world, I'll show it to you."

Intimacy, again.

She didn't care. She needed comfort and a feeling that she was in touch with something besides hatred and ugliness. She'd take this in¬timacy now and draw back later.

If she could.