Deadlock

THIRTEEN

THE LARGE STONE FARMHOUSE that Dardon had chosen was surrounded by flat barren fields that seemed to stretch on forever. It was all on one level, with a thatched roof and a rock-paved driveway leading up to the front door. "The farmer who owns it left to work in the city," Dardon said. "A lot of farmers don't think the work is worth the income these days." He jumped out of the car and ran up to the window box beside the front door. "The key should be here. " "Pretty obvious," Garrett said.

"There's not much to steal out here in the boondocks." Dardon unlocked the door and turned to Emily. "It should be comfortable if not elegant."

"That's all that matters." Emily entered the spacious kitchen-living room. Dark oak beams arched across the ceiling, and a huge stone fire¬place was centered between the two rooms. "It's cozy. We stayed in a farmhouse like this in Georgia, and Joel said he felt like he'd gone back in-" She broke off. That memory had popped up out of nowhere. So many of her memories were connected with Joel. She saw Garrett look¬ing at her, and quickly said, "It's very nice, Dardon."

"Tell him that after we find out if this place has a coffeemaker," Pauley said as he headed across the room toward the cabinets. "This stove looks like it's vintage 1930." He was looking through the cabinets. "I don't see-for heaven's sake, a samovar." He took out the elaborate tea service. "Very fancy but it's not a coffeepot."

"Stop complaining." Dardon was going through the cabinets, too. He triumphantly pulled out an old-fashioned coffeepot. "And there should be supplies, including coffee, in here somewhere."

Garrett turned to Emily. "Pick a bedroom. There should be three. Which is pretty palatial for a farmer. And there's supposed to be a lean-to with a comfortable enough mattress and pallet outside the kitchen door. We'll have enough places to sleep."

"And I won't be here that long," Pauley said. "If I can down enough coffee, I'll work all night and see if I can get a breakthrough." He smiled at Emily. "Much as I like the company, this place in the country isn't my idea of resort living."

"I can understand that." Emily smiled back at him. "We appreci¬ate your coming."

"He's being paid very well for coming," Garrett said. "And Pauley getting his work done and getting on his way will be good for all of us."

"That's telling me." Pauley raised his brows. "Little edgy, Gar¬rett?" He didn't wait for an answer, but went to the sink and filled the pot. "That will cost you."

"The price is set."

"But that was before you hurt my feelings," Pauley said. "I charge extra for that."

"And so you should," Emily said as she headed for one of the doors leading off the kitchen. "I'm going to see if I can shower and change my clothes. Where's the bathroom?"

"One bathroom. We share." Dardon said. "It's the door on the other side of the kitchen."

"Not exactly convenient," Pauley said.

"Shut up, Pauley," Dardon said. "I did the best I could on short notice.

"And I get one of the bedrooms," Pauley said. "I'm working and I need privacy and a soft bed to rest my weary and exceptionally bril¬liant head."

Dardon frowned. "The hell you do."

"I'll sleep in the lean-to," Garrett said. "Just get your work done, Pauley."

Pauley smiled. "I may forgive you for being so curt with me." He turned on the stove and put the coffeepot on the flames. "And I may give you a cup of my coffee."

Emily shut the door of the bedroom behind her and leaned against it. She was glad to close them all out and grasp this moment of quiet. They had been going nonstop, sidestepping bullets and jetting across oceans for the last days, and it was catching up with her. There had been only a short period that she had felt safe and content during that time, and it had been linked to those moments on the plane with Garrett.

Intimacy.

But there had been no hint of intimacy in the Garrett who had been cold with Pauley. It had annoyed her again, and she had struck back. Jealousy was absurd in their relationship. Even though he'd ad¬mitted that it was childish, he seemed to be feeling it still.

Why? It wasn't as if she was some Angelina Jolie. She could see a woman like that attracting Garrett. Emily knew that she was a fairly attractive woman and that she had brains and drive. She would not underestimate herself, but she would not make the mistake of believ¬ing that Garrett could be involved with her on a more permanent basis. They were too different. It had to be the situation that was binding them together.

Yes, the situation. That was the answer.

She gazed around the room. Clean, a worn off-white quilt on the bed. Cheap painted nightstand and a bowl and pitcher on the chest by the door. Good enough.

The bed looked particularly good to her. She was in no mood to pass through the kitchen to go to the communal bathroom for a shower.

Later.

She curled up on the bed and pulled the ancient cream-colored quilt over her. Why did old things always seem more soft and com¬fortable…?

SOMEONE WAS KNOCKING.

She opened her eyes. The room was dark. "Emily."

Garrett. She swung her feet to the floor, crossed the room, and opened the door. "Is everything okay?"

"That's what I was going to ask you." He smiled. "You've been in here for almost four hours. But judging by the fact that you're a bit tousled, I'd guess you were taking a nap."

She nodded. "I only meant to-I suppose I was tired."

"I suppose." He stepped aside. "And you were a little tired of us. Me, particularly. But Dardon and Pauley have gone to their rooms, and you can have the house to yourself if you want to take that shower."

She did want a shower. She felt sticky, and her mouth was like cot¬ton. "Is there hot water?"

He nodded. "I lit the water heater."

She went back into the bedroom, opened her duffel, and took out her toothbrush and shampoo. Then she grabbed underclothes, shirt, and pants. "Good. I hate cold showers."

"Me too." He turned and headed back toward the kitchen. "Take your time. I'll make you coffee. You didn't get any from the first pot."

She could smell the coffee as she opened the bathroom door al¬most an hour later. Lord, she loved the smell of fresh coffee.

He smiled as she came toward the table. "Feel better?"

"Yes."

"Want something to eat?"

"No, I had that sandwich on the plane. I'm not hungry."

"That was a long time ago." He poured her coffee. "Maybe later." "Maybe."

He sat down across from her. "Pauley said he's close." "He said that on the plane, too."

"There are a lot of false starts and doubling back in his line of work."

"You sound as if you're familiar with it."

"Familiar, not perfect. That's why I moved on to other endeavors."

"Do you have to be perfect in everything you do?"

"Only in some things. But I have to be damn good, or it drives me crazy until I am."

"I was never that ambitious. I just wanted to accomplish what I set out to do and do it well."

"You grew up with a loving father and a secure home life. I had to be better than anyone else on the street or end up in the gutter. It trained me to be competitive."

"I can see that." She looked at him over the rim of the cup. Even now when he was sitting here, relaxed, she was aware of the vibrancy and wariness that was such an integral part of him. In those first days with Garrett, she had not dreamed she could become so accustomed to being with him. She was wary, too, and she was out of her element with him.

He had stopped smiling, and his gaze was suddenly intent. He was still out of her element.

She could feel her chest tighten, and the heat move through her. She wanted to reach out and touch him. Get a grip.

"I'm still competitive," he said. "You didn't like it when I wasn't all sweetness and light to Pauley. Sorry. It's my nature. I have to pro¬tect what's-" He broke off. "No, you wouldn't like that either. I seem to be saying all the wrong things tonight." He looked down at the coffee in his cup. "But I think it's the time to say them. I think you're ready. God, I hope you're ready."

"Ready for what? Sex?"

"Yes." He looked up at her. "Oh, yes."

She caught her breath. He wasn't even touching her, and she felt as if something inside her was melting.

"You knew it was coming," he said thickly. "You want it to come."

She did want it, and she'd be lying if she denied it. She wouldn't lie. "We have a certain chemistry." She moistened her lips. "But it's the sit¬uation. We've been thrown together, and we react. That doesn't mean we should-" She broke off and pushed her chair back. "I'm hot." Oh, shit, that had just tumbled out. "I need some air. I'm going outside."

He smiled. "I'm hot, too, Emily." But he remained in his chair as she left the house.

The night was chilly, but it didn't cool her. She leaned back against the house, gazing out at the barren fields. She was burning up, her body readying. For heaven's sake, she felt the way she had the first time she'd had sex. It was her first year in college, and she'd been mindless, uncontrolled, dizzy with lust. She hadn't run away from it then. She'd run toward it.

Because it was safe, just a new experience, a passage of life.

Sex with Garrett would not be safe, and the passage could take her down paths that would be new and strange.

And exciting. Yes, everything about Garrett was exciting and dif¬ferent. The way he thought, the experiences that had made him who he was, his body that drew her and made her want to-

The door opened, and Garret came outside.

She tensed, straightening against the wall.

He was also tense. She could see the tautness of his face and the contained violence in the bunched muscles of his shoulders.

"Don't worry. I'm not going to jump you," he said. "I'm not even going to try to seduce you. Though God knows I want to do it. I might be able to pull it off. That's one of the skills I studied until I got pretty good at it."

"I'm sure you did." Emily tried to keep her voice even. "It's one of the most necessary talents in a man's repertoire, isn't it?"

"You're damn right." His gaze narrowed on her face. "And it's frus¬trating the hell out of me that I can't use it now. My hands are tied. That son of a bitch, Staunton, tied them, and I can't do anything about it."

"I don't know what-"

"I'm telling you," he interrupted harshly. "You've been one of the walking wounded ever since we came together. How the hell am I go¬ing to get you into bed when I'm afraid you're going to shatter if I put a finger on you?" He reached out his hand and brushed her throat. "Your pulse jumped when I touched you." He rubbed his thumb in the hollow. "And it's going crazy now."

More than crazy. She couldn't breathe. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought it would jump from her breast.

"And I can't do a damn thing about it," he said between his teeth. "You're the only one who can make the move." His hand dropped away from her throat. "Just know that I want you more than I've wanted any woman in my life. I'm wild for you. I'd never hurt you, and I'd make it good for you. That's all I wanted to say." He turned on his heel and walked across the farmyard toward the road.

She stared after him, her head whirling with the words he'd just spoken.

Walking wounded.

You'd shatter if I put a finger on you. Staunton tied my hands.

She slowly turned and went back into the house.

SHE SHOULD HAVE WORN HER shoes. Her bare feet were cold on the rough ground as she moved toward the lean-to.

Cold feet. That was almost funny. But she wouldn't be nervous or afraid. She had gone through all that in the hours since she'd left Gar¬rett. Now the time for nerves was over. Then why did she still feel them, dammit?

She opened the door of the lean-to. "Garrett."

"Come in." He was half-lying, half-sitting, propped up against the wall. "Quick." He lifted the quilt covering him. "Let me get you warm. I didn't expect you to be running around in a tee shirt."

She dove forward and under the covers. "I didn't really think about it. I just decided to come." She stiffened as she realized he was naked. "And you have less on than I do. You were expecting me?"

"I was hoping." His lips brushed her ear. "But I always sleep naked."

Dear God, she was trembling. His body was hard, hot, ready against her.

"You're shaking." He turned her over to look down at her. "It's so dark in here, I can't see you. Are you afraid?"

"For Pete's sake, I've never been afraid of you." She reached down and pulled her tee shirt over her head and threw it aside. "And I won't shatter. And, if I was among the walking wounded, it was never sexu¬ally." She pulled him down and then arched upward with a little cry as her breasts touched his chest. "And I won't allow Staunton to tie your hands. I want them moving over me. Get busy."

He chuckled. "Right. Whatever you say." His hand moved be¬tween her legs. "Like this?"

She inhaled sharply. "Yes."

"Maybe we should go to your room. I made sure this pallet was clean, but that's all it is." He was rubbing, manipulating. "You'd be more comfortable."

"No." She arched as he went deep. "This is fine."

"You're not cold?"

"Are you crazy?" No, the bastard was teasing, physically and ver¬bally. "I'm not wounded. I'm not cold. I'm in lust, and you're not do¬ing anything about it." She pushed him back and moved over him. "So I guess I'll have to do it myself."

"I CAN SEE WHY YOU DIDN'T want to go to your bedroom," Gar¬rett whispered. "Dardon would have run into your room gun drawn at the first scream."

"It wasn't a scream." But it had come close, Emily thought as she tried to get her breath. "It was a prolonged, loud, exclamation."

"I liked it. Call it anything you please." He was curved spoonlike against her back, and his hand was rubbing her belly. "I made you do it. You liked what I did to you."

Liked? She had been out of her mind every time they had come together. She was still out of her mind. Just his hand rubbing her flesh was causing it to start all over again. "You're not bad, Garrett."

"Not bad? I'm obviously going to have to up my efforts a notch. I want to impress you."

Oh, he had impressed her. She had tried to protect herself by mak¬ing light of it, but she had to be honest. He had given her more than she had expected, more than she had thought she needed. She was silent a moment, trying to find the words. "You made me feel… alive again, Garrett," she whispered. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," he murmured. "But I didn't do anything much in that direction. You're the most beautifully alive person I've ever known. It was what I saw when I first saw your picture in the newspa¬per. Full of life and character and a sort of luminous joy." He kissed the tip of her ear. "I think that's why I got so pissed that you'd been taken and I had to go after you."

"There are so many little things that make us what we are. The memories, the way we face sorrow and disasters, the people we reach out to. I thought I was back, but there was still a numbness there. I couldn't make contact. I guess I haven't felt really alive since-" She stopped. "I hadn't even realized what I'd lost. But tonight I felt alive. My body felt beautiful and clean, and you made me feel as if I was very special."

"And so you are."

He didn't understand. She wasn't sure she could make it clear what he'd given her. It was more than likely it had just been a great roll in the hay to him. She was probably embarrassing him. She'd had to put it into words but it would be better to back away. "Of course, I am," she said lightly. "I'm glad you recognize it."

"I couldn't help it." He moved his hand to her throat and began lightly rubbing the hollow of her throat. "For instance, your flesh is very sensitive. Particularly here." He smiled as he felt the pulse leap be¬neath his touch. "Extraordinarily sensitive. It's good to know that no matter where we are, what we're doing, all I have to do is slip my hand under your blouse and you'll be ready for me in a heartbeat."

"Don't count on it." But it didn't sound very sincere when she could hardly get her breath.

"I am counting on it." He turned her over on her back. "Because you're going to back away. You're going to be afraid you'll lose your focus. I'll just have to bring you back. I know all the ways now. You know how good we are together. Every chance I get, I'll remind you."

"What about your focus?"

"I can keep my focus. There's no need denying ourselves this. That would give Staunton a victory." He moved over her. "You said you didn't want him to tie my hands." His fingers were moving, brushing, pressing. "I promise he's not going to do that, Emily…"

"I'VE GOT IT!"

The door of the lean-to was thrown open, letting in bright day¬light and Pauley.

He stopped short, his gaze on Emily. "Oops."

"Oops, indeed." Garrett drew the blanket over Emily and raised himself on one elbow. "You could have knocked."

"I was excited. And I didn't know you weren't alone." Pauley made a face. "Sorry, Emily."

"It's okay." She was looking around for the tee shirt she had dis¬carded all those hours ago. "Why are you excited?"

"Not for the same reason Garrett was excited," he said ruefully. "Lucky man. I wish I'd spent the night here instead of staring at that computer."

"What have you got?" Garrett reached over and retrieved Emily's tee shirt and handed it to her. "Why don't you go start the coffee and give us a couple minutes?"

"Right." Pauley moved out of the doorway and headed for the house. "And it's almost eight in the morning. It's time you got up any¬way."

"You can go straight to your bedroom and get some clothes on, Emily." Garrett was pulling the tee shirt over her head. "I'll talk to Pauley."

"No. Give me your shirt. You get another one out of your suit¬case." She slipped the shirt over her tee shirt and buttoned it. "That's good enough until I can hit the shower. It should only take a few min¬utes to hear what Pauley has to say." She got up and headed for the door. "Coming?"

"Could you wait until I get some clothes on?" He was already dressing. "I'll be just a minute." He smiled faintly. "You're already in strike mode. It's going to be a harder battle than I thought. It only took Pauley with his computer wizardry to jar you away."

"What are you talking about? Only? Why else are we here in Russia?"

"You're right, of course. Time to focus." He was passing her as he headed for the door. "What could I be thinking?" He gave her a glance as he passed her. "But remember when I said I'd have it all? That didn't only apply to Staunton and his employer. I will have it all, Emily." He didn't wait for an answer but strode toward the house.

She had to run to keep up with him. The rocks were cold and bit¬ing into her bare feet. It was the same as last night. No, not the same. Last night she wouldn't have cared if she were walking on hot coals.

He glanced back at her, then stopped to wait. "Much as I like every part of you bare, I suggest you wear shoes from now on." There was a faint edge to his tone. "You may not be able to keep up with me. I in¬tend to move very fast from now on. I'm beginning to want Staunton out of our lives very badly."

"I've never wanted anything else."

"Yes, you did." He opened the door for her. "Last night you forgot all about Staunton. I made you forget him. I can do it again, but it's not a good idea. You'd end up resenting me. So it's best if I just eliminate the bastard as soon as possible." He followed her into the room. "But I'd appreciate it if you'd put some clothes on as soon as possible. I don't like Pauley gawking at you, and it distracts me."

"Pauley isn't-" She stopped as she saw that Dardon and Pauley were both standing by the stove, and they were staring at her bare legs and feet. "That's not my problem. You all can deal with it. I'm de¬cent." She strode over to the stove and took the cup of coffee Pauley handed her. "Thank you."

"Talk, Pauley," Garrett said curtly.

"I broke through to the database about two this morning." Pauley made a face. "Damn it was hard. I was tempted to go to bed, but I was zinging by that time, so I decided to plow through the records and come up with a name and address."

"And did you?"

"Sure. I told you, I got it." He took a notebook out of his back pocket. "Charles Vorstov-Babin. He used Babin in London but his full name in Russia."

Emily stiffened. "Babin?"

Pauley glanced up. "You've heard of him?"

"Only once."

On that hideous day that had so traumatized her, she hadn't even been able to remember it.

Pauley looked back at his notes. "He's an attorney who moved from London to Moscow at the end of the Cold War. There were a lot of Western industrialists who decided to come to the Soviet Union to do business and make a killing. Babin decided that he'd make a killing of his own by representing them and getting a cut of the gravy train. He's illegitimate, but his mother was Russian and he speaks the language. It came in handy when he moved back to Russia. He fit in with both the Russian government and his new clients from Great Britain and the U.S. He's very successful and not above skidding very close to the edge when it comes to honest business practices."

"And his address?"

"Got that, too. His office is in a little town north of Moscow. Dal-baz. His home is an estate that was confiscated by the Bolsheviks after they killed the royal family. It once belonged to Grand Duke Igor."

"How far north of Moscow?"

"About fifty miles."

"Not very convenient for doing business," Emily said. "And he must have done very well if he could afford to buy that estate."

He shrugged. "Maybe he has a select clientele that can afford to keep him in the style to which he'd like to be accustomed."

"How well is he doing?" Emily asked. She remembered the term Garrett had used when he'd spoken about Staunton's cash flow. "Un¬limited funds?"

"I haven't had time to do an in-depth study, but I don't think so."

Dardon shook his head. "I'm sorry, I should have been able to lo¬cate Babin before this, Emily. Hell, I've been checking since before you went after Nemid. It was that damn double name that threw me off."

"It doesn't matter. We have him now. I just don't understand why his profile doesn't agree with what Garrett was told about Staunton. Staunton doesn't have unlimited funds, and now neither does Babin?"

"We'll find out, Emily," Garrett said quietly. He turned to Dardon. "Now you have a full name and address. Call Ferguson and get him to tap every source he has and see if he can find out anything more. See if he has a client named Staunton."

"You're using Ferguson again?" Emily asked.

"Hell yes, I want to see what dirt he can dig up on Babin. Fergu¬son has contacts, and we might as well use them. Let him earn his pay¬off. Tell him to get the information as fast as he can."

"Then you won't need me any longer," Pauley said. "Do I get to go home?"

Garrett stared at him for a moment. "It's tempting. But I think I'll keep you here for a little while. Something may come up." He turned to Emily. "Shower and get dressed. We'll go visit Babin and see if we can get a few answers ourselves."

BABIN'S OFFICE WAS LOCATED in a brick building on a street with other professional offices. The street was clean and well main¬tained, and the town of Dalbaz appeared prosperous.

"Very nice," Garrett said as he held the door open for Emily. "How are you doing? Are you okay?"

"Yes. Why shouldn't I be?"

"No reason. You can never tell how anything is going to hit some¬one. We're getting closer."

And she was feeling nervous. How had he known? Lord, he was per¬ceptive. "Let's get even closer." She moved to the desk, where a blond receptionist was sitting. "We'd like to see Mr. Babin, please."

"You have an appointment?" Her English was faintly accented, and her smile was flashing white in her pretty face.

"No. But we need to see him. My name is Emily Hudson and this

"I'm sorry, but Mr. Babin never sees anyone without an appoint¬ment. Perhaps you can-"

"Perhaps we can see him right now." Garrett took Emily's elbow and whisked her toward the inner door. "It will be fine. Trust me."

"It will not be fine." The receptionist's smile was gone as she jumped to her feet and ran after them. "I told you that-" She stopped and said to the man who had gotten to his feet as they walked into the room. "I'm sorry, Mr. Babin. I told them that you never saw-"

"John Garrett and this is Emily Hudson," Garrett said. "We need to talk to you, Babin."

"It seems to be somewhat important, Nadia," Babin said to the re¬ceptionist. "Perhaps we should make an exception. It will be all right." lr you re sure:

"I'm not sure, but I'm willing to be open." He smiled at Emily as the receptionist left the room. He was a heavyset man in his fifties, with smoothly barbered black hair and a toothy smile as glossy and slick as his hair. "Now what is this all about?"

She drew a deep breath, trying to smother the anger that was be¬ginning to kindle. "Suppose you tell us. Nicholas Zelov called you two nights ago. He was frightened." She paused. "And he mentioned Mikhail Zelov's Book of Living."

"I don't remember such a call. You must be mistaken. Did Mr. Zelov tell you that he'd called me?"

"No."

"Oh, my, then you must have tapped this call by illegal means." He shook his head reprovingly. "And I really can't discuss it with you."

"Discuss it," Emily repeated. "Illegal?" He was so smooth, so con¬fident that she suddenly lost control. "How can you say that? My God, you couldn't be more dirty."

"Nonsense. You're the one who committed an illegal act. I wouldn't want to be an accomplice by even talking about your misdemeanor. Be¬sides, you're mistaken; I know nothing about Zelov or this book."

"Nor Staunton?" she asked through clenched teeth. "Where is Staunton?"

"All of this is a complete mystery to me." He glanced at Garrett. "You're being very quiet, Mr. Garrett. You must have been forced to come here with this woman. I'm sure you realize that a man of my professional reputation would not be involved in anything in the least crooked."

"The lady said it all. She didn't need my help." Garrett stared him in the eye. "You don't know anything. You never heard of Staunton. We're mistaken. If you did know anything, you wouldn't tell us. Have I got it right?"

Babin nodded. "In a nutshell." He smiled. "Now I believe it's time you left."

"I believe you're right," Garrett took Emily's arm. "We've struck out here, Emily. Let's leave before Mr. Babin has us arrested for illegal wiretapping. Gee, he has me scared."

Babin's smile remained firmly in place. "I'd never do that. It's clearly a case of mistaken identity, if there was such a call." He turned to Emily. "And I'd never cause this lady additional grief after all she's been through. Naturally, I recognize her from her photos in the newspapers. Perhaps she's a little distraught from her experience in the mountains?"

"You mean she's nuts?" Garrett asked. "No, I don't believe so. Are you unbalanced, Emily?"

"Stop it, Garrett. I've had enough." Emily took a step closer to Babin. "Yes, I'm distraught." Her voice was shaking with rage. "And who should know better than you about my experience in those mountains. You were there. Did you hear him screaming, Babin?"

Babin didn't change expression. "I beg your pardon?"

"No one begged Joel's pardon. No one stopped hurting him when he begged." The words kept tumbling out. "And then he couldn't beg any longer. Why would you-"

"Emily." Garrett's hand tightened on her arm. "Not now. It's not going to do any good."

"He's got to tell me where Staunton-" She drew a deep, harsh breath. She felt as if she was going to explode. He was right. Babin wasn't going to say anything. She could see nothing in his expression but bland satisfaction. She wanted to slap him, tear out that smooth hair by the roots. She jerked away from Garrett and turned on her heel. "I'm out of here." She strode out of the office.

Garrett caught up with her as she reached the front door. "Take it easy. This isn't the end. It's just the first round. We knew that he probably wouldn't cave. We just have to go at it another way."

"I lost my temper." She looked straight ahead as she walked toward the car. "I fell apart. I didn't mean to do that." Her hands clenched into fists. "But he kept smiling, Garrett. He was so smug. I was wondering if he was smiling like that while he was talking to Staunton that day. Joel was screaming, and no one cared but me. He kept smiling…"

"Shh." He stopped in the street and drew her into his arms. "I know. I know. You did fine."

"No I didn't." She buried her face in his chest. "I fell apart. I shouldn't have done that. I think he liked it."

"We'll just have to make sure he pays for it, won't we?" His arms tightened around her. "And I would have probably exploded myself under the same circumstances."

She felt warm and safe in his arms. A moment ago, she'd been crumbling away with fury and frustration, but, incredibly, it was be¬ginning to be okay now. "Let's get out of here." She pushed away from him. "It's the middle of the street in broad daylight. If Babin saw us, he'd be very happy that he'd upset me this much."

"It would be short-lived." He pushed her hair away from her face. "I promise you everything about Babin will be short-lived."

She felt a chill. It was strange when she'd been in such a fury only moments before and wanted to strike out at Babin herself. "Not before we find Staunton and Zelov's book." She turned away and moved to¬ward the car. "He didn't even change expressions when I mentioned Staunton's name."

"He's very slick, very smooth." Garrett got into the driver's seat. He glanced back at Dardon in the backseat. "Anything?"

"No." Dardon looked up from his computer keyboard. "Too bad. He's neither drunk, nor stupid. If he knew we traced him through Zelov, he wouldn't be caught in the same trap. He'd find another way to make contact."

"You think he'd be contacting Staunton?" Emily asked.

Garrett nodded. "Or someone else."

"You don't believe he's Staunton's employer?"

"I didn't say that. But he could be the middleman. From what you told me, Staunton's reaction toward Babin was annoyance, and there should probably be more intimidation and respect if it was Babin pulling the strings. And the bankroll Staunton had at his disposal couldn't be furnished by Babin."

"But Nicholas Zelov called Babin, and it seemed as if Babin was in control."

"We'll have to see. When I talk to Ferguson again, we may know more. Did you talk to Ferguson yet, Dardon?"

"Yeah, he was pretty sour, but he said he'd get back to you."

"I hope he has something for us. We didn't accomplish anything with Babin," Emily said.

"Actually, we did." Garrett started the car. "At least now we've taken his measure."

"And he's taken ours?"

He shook his head. "Hell no, he's not even gotten close."