Deadlock

TWENTY-TWO

WHEN THEY ARRIVED BACK AT the road, Irana was kneeling on the ground beside Joslyn applying a pressure bandage. "Thank God," she said as she glanced up and saw Emily. "Are you hurt?"

"No, but Garrett is wounded. I don't think it's serious." She looked down at Joslyn. He was obviously unconscious and appeared stark pale in the light of the lantern sitting beside him. "Is he going to die?"

"Not if I can help it. He's lost a lot of blood, and I don't know if the bullet clipped an organ yet." She glanced at Garrett. "I told Dar¬don to phone for an ambulance. He went to the monastery to meet them and bring them here. I'm going with him to take care of him."

"I'm not arguing," Garrett said.

"You were angry with all of us when you got here." She looked at Emily. "And you blamed Joslyn enough to use him to bring us here. He may be dying because he wanted to make amends for what he did wrong."

"Are you trying to make me feel guilty?"

"No, I'm not judging you. I helped to make sure he'd come with us. Who knows? Maybe Joslyn was looking on you as his own messen¬ger to help him make peace with himself." Her lips tightened. "I'm just saying that no matter how you feel about him, it's not going to stop me from helping him."

Emily stared at her for a moment. "I don't want him to die by Staunton's hand. Maybe I don't want him to die at all. But I can't for¬give what he did. Don't expect me to pretend that I will."

Irana smiled. "No, I don't expect you to pretend anything. You're not at all good at it." Her gaze shifted to Pauley. "Come here and keep pressure on this bandage while I take care of Garrett's wound."

He moved forward with alacrity. "Right. That's really much more dramatic and worthwhile than cleaning up that knife scratch."

Garrett took out his telephone. "Give me five minutes, Irana."

"No. I'm going to do it now." Irana took his phone and handed it to Emily. "When that ambulance gets here, I want to be ready to go. Let her make your call or wait."

He frowned. "I have to move fast, dammit." He glanced at Irana's expression and then told Emily, "Call Ferguson's number. Tell him what happened here and that it's time for his payback. He's got to hop on a plane and get here right away. I'll meet him at the monastery." He turned to Irana. "Arrange to have Joslyn put in seclusion when you get to the hospital. I don't want him talking or any publicity."

"That's going to be hard to do," Irana said dryly. "He's been shot."

"A hunting accident."

"No one is going to believe that."

"But it will take them time to decide to go to investigate what re¬ally happened. As soon as Dardon gets back, I'll have him drag Borg's body into the woods. That will buy us time." He said to Emily, "Now, dammit, make that call."

"I ADMIT I NEVER EXPECTED to see you at a place like this, Gar¬rett. I'd bet you're not planning on doing penance for all your past sins." Ferguson gazed at the two monks weeding the vegetable garden. He turned to Emily, who was sitting on a wooden bench beside the scullery door, and scowled. "You've caused me a hell of a lot of trouble."

"And, of course, I did it all on purpose." she said. "I planned it all to make your life inconvenient."

"Do you expect me to apologize? Okay, I'm sorry you had a bad time, but you made choices that gave me king-size headaches. You're still giving them to me. Bishop Dimitri's murder is going to be very delicate to handle." He turned back to Garrett. "You're sure it was Staunton who was responsible?"

"No question. You can probably scrounge up whatever proof you'll need." He shrugged. "Or plant what you can't find."

"You don't have much time. The bishop's housekeeper should be coming back to the residency within a few hours," Emily pointed out.

"She's already been diverted," Ferguson said absently. "I don't make mistakes like that."

Garrett smiled. "And I'd guess you sent someone into the forest to make sure the locals didn't find Borg's and Staunton's bodies until you were ready."

Ferguson didn't deny it. "You said that I was going to have my payoff. I wasn't going to be cheated."

"I've kept my promise. You're here, aren't you?"

"To get your ass out of hot water," Ferguson said. "And I'll do it. I just want to come out of this smelling like a rose and with enough prestige for a promotion, maybe even a political career."

"You're going to be the one who finally caught Emily's kidnapper and Levy's murderer. Added to that, you have the cachet of solving Bishop Dimitri's murder. It will be a major media circus."

"I want more."

Garrett tilted his head, waiting. He nodded at Emily. "I want her." "No," Garrett said sharply.

"Yes. She's the draw, the sun that will draw all that media to me. I want her to give interviews with me, to tell everyone how grateful she is that I managed to find Staunton."

"No way."

"I can make this cleanup the most pristine you've ever seen. No one gets hurt. I forget any illegal shenanigans you've pulled on the way to Staunton."

"You want the glory of catching Staunton. You'd do it anyway. Try again."

"Wait a minute, Garrett," Emily said. "I'm the one who's involved here. I'll make my own decision."

He swore beneath his breath. "They'll tear you apart, and he'll stand by watching and smiling like a Cheshire cat."

"I wouldn't allow anyone to tear me apart." She stared at Fergu¬son, considering the situation. "We might be able to work a deal. But it will be on my terms, under my control."

Ferguson gazed at her warily.

"I'll let you use me if you guarantee that Garrett won't ever suffer for either helping me or doing anything else even slightly irregular in the future. I can see you have rather an adversarial relationship. From now on Garrett will come up golden. You'll be the angel on his shoulder."

"Hell, no," Garrett said. "Emily, you're not going to-"

"Be quiet, Garrett. I know you probably may even enjoy battling with Ferguson, but that's too bad. I've got to set everything straight. I've got to pay you back for all you've done for me." She added soberly, "Though there's no way I can make up for the loss of your friend, Karif. But maybe I can make your future a little smoother." She glanced back at Ferguson. "And if you go back on your word later, you'll see a media blitz that will tear any career you might build to shreds. Don't ever doubt that, Ferguson."

Ferguson studied her before he nodded slowly. "Oh, I don't doubt it," he said. "Anything else?"

"Find a way to keep Garrett and Irana out of this."

"Anyone that's close to you will automatically be fodder for the paparazzi," Ferguson said.

"They won't be close to me." She didn't look at Garrett. "It will be just you and me, Ferguson." She could feel the storm of emotion build¬ing in Garrett. She had to get this over before he exploded. "One more thing. When you've milked this situation, I want you to ease me out of it. Find a way to make sure the media considers me a story that's run its course."

"That won't be easy."

"You can do it. I have faith in you. You appear to know every dirty trick in the book." She stood up. "Now I have to go to the hospital and see Irana. I'm sure you're going to be very busy in that forest, do¬ing some intricate staging."

"Yes." Ferguson hesitated. "You'd better tell your friend that we're transferring Joslyn to a hospital outside London within the next few hours. I can control the situation better there."

Ferguson was obviously already in high gear, she thought. "You'll have to talk to Irana about that. She may have something to say to you." She stared him in the eye. "Now, do we have a deal?"

"Yes." He smiled faintly. "Though you practically stole the shirt off my back. It's going to be a nightmare erasing Garrett and your doctor friend from the equation." He was silent a moment. "But I've been thinking that maybe I'll recast Staunton in this story."

"Recast?"

"Well, since the hammer has never shown up, it would be coun¬terproductive to bring up this wild tale about Nicholas II's billions. It will complicate things enormously. It's probably a bunch of bull any¬way."

"Really?"

He nodded. "So why don't we do a little background tinkering and make Staunton a terrorist. He kidnapped both you and Levy to make a statement and would have bargained your lives for a release of political prisoners if I hadn't tracked him down and freed you." Go on.

"The bishop's death could be attributed to revenge against the Church. We can find a way to ignore Babin's and Zelov's deaths. The attack on Mykala Island had a distinct terrorist profile."

"And?"

"That's all. I killed Staunton and his cohort, and we're working diligently on apprehending his cell group." "Could you really stage a big lie like that?" He smiled. "Watch me." "I'm not going to lie," Emily said.

"You don't have to make a statement at all. I'll do all the talking." His brows rose. "Yes?"

She nodded slowly. "I don't care what you say about him as long as everyone knows what a bastard he was." She turned and walked away.

Garrett started to follow her, then whirled on Ferguson. "You take care of her," he said fiercely. "You treat her as if she was made of the finest crystal. If you don't, I'll know about it, and I'll come after you." He turned and caught up with Emily in three strides. "You know why he's concocting this bullshit about terrorists, don't you?"

She nodded. "It's starting all over again. He's going to try to find the Tsar's treasure for himself."

"Ferguson is going to go crazy sifting through Staunton's belong¬ings, trying to find a clue that will lead him to the hammer."

"Good. I can't think of anyone I'd rather see go off his rocker."

"You don't think he'll find it." Garrett's gaze was narrowed on her face. "That's why you agreed."

"I agreed because enough people have died over that damn treasure. And it will never stop. Even if the Russian government took possession, the corruption would go on. Irana said that Nartova told Bishop Dim¬itri that the only way to win the treasure was to leave it alone. I believe he was right."

"And what about Bishop Dimitri's plan to give the money to needy children?"

"A wonderful scheme. Yet whom could you trust to make sure that all the money was protected and went to charity? You saw what happened when Joslyn and Bishop Dimitri tried to do it. No, let Fer¬guson beat his head against the wall, then start believing that the trea¬sure was the myth he called it."

He said slowly, "As I said, you seem very sure he won't find it among Staunton's effects. Why?"

She looked at him. "Do you really want to know? Do you want to find Zelov's hammer?"

He shook his head. "I can't imagine anything I want less. I have plenty of money, and I don't need that kind of burden. It would smother me."

"I don't have plenty of money, but I feel the same way. It would be the only way that Zelov and Staunton could really destroy me." They had reached the car, and she turned to face him and braced herself. "I don't want you to come with me to the hospital to see Irana."

"This is good-bye?" His lips twisted. "You're cutting me loose?" "I don't want anyone to see us together." "And I don't give a damn."

"I know. But I have to wipe the slate clean. I don't want debts on either side." She paused. "And I want to put time and space between us. I want to know that it wasn't circumstance or pity that brought us this close."

"I've never pitied you. For God's sake, you should know that by-" he stopped. "I'm not going to change your mind, am I?"

"Time and space," she repeated. She would not cry. She was right. This was better for both of them.

But dear God, it was hard.

"Then get the hell out of here." He opened the car door for her. "Start chalking up your damn time. Because I'm going to be on your doorstep before you know it. Be ready for me."

She'd be ready for him. She was ready for him now.

Don't look at him; he'd see the tears.

Don't say the words. Just start the car and drive away.

Don't say the words…

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S taking Joslyn away from here?" Irana demanded as she strode down the hospital corridor toward Emily. "I'm not sure he's ready to travel. He just regained consciousness an hour ago."

"If Ferguson has to wrap Joslyn in cotton wool, I'd be willing to bet he'll be on a plane out of here before the end of the day," Emily said. "You'd better get him ready." She paused. "And you'd better go with him, Irana."

"That sounded loaded with significance. Am I going on the lam?"

She smiled faintly. "You didn't find that phrase in a Jane Austen book."

"Am I?"

"No, but Joslyn will be in seclusion until he recovers, and it will be more comfortable for you to share it."

"I don't usually do what's comfortable for me."

"I know. But you'll be doing me a favor this time if you do."

"Why?"

"Ferguson and I are going on the road. Lots of paparazzi and TV cameras. You don't want to be involved." "I might."

"I don't want you involved. You'd be defeating the purpose." "What is the purpose?"

"Going back to square one. If it had been Ferguson instead of Garrett who rescued me from Staunton in those mountains, it's what I would have done anyway. Ferguson would have seen to it. But now we can get something for my trouble."

"For heaven's sake, you're trying to protect all of us," Irana said in disgust. "And I thought Garrett was bad."

"Will you go with Joslyn?"

She didn't speak for a moment. "Is Garrett furious?" "Among other things. Will you go?"

"Probably. I can't see how I can help you, and I somehow feel that there may be more I have to do with Joslyn. You'll keep in touch?" "No, not until no one is interested in who my friends are." "But you'll call when you need me."

"Oh, yes." She gave Irana a hug, then held her close for an instant longer before she released her. Her eyes were stinging again. "But then, I always need you, Irana." She smiled shakily. "Oh, by the way, Ferguson is going to be spinning a fairy tale about what went on with Staunton. There's no longer any Tsar's treasure. Don't be surprised when you see the story in the newspapers."

"How did that come about?"

"I think Ferguson has decided he wants to be a Tsar, too. He'll be disappointed. He won't find the hammer."

"You're sure? Did Staunton tell you where it is?"

Emily shook her head. "No, he didn't tell me." She gave Irana an¬other hug and turned to go. "Good-bye, Irana. Keep safe and take care."

"Of course, I will." Irana's face lit with her luminous smile. "I told you, that's what I do. I'm one of the caretakers of the world." The caretaker.

Whom could you trust to make sure all that money was protected and went to charity?

And did Emily have the right to take the responsibility of denying the caretakers of the world?

"What is it?" Irana was studying Emily's expression.

"You can forget this or remember it," Emily said. "Your choice. I choose to forget it. Staunton didn't tell me where he hid the hammer. But he was comparing himself constantly with Zelov while we were talking. He was jealous of him. And one of the things that he said was that he wanted to take me to the museum where the hammer had been on exhibit all those years, the one across from the execution house. He wanted me to visit another site of Zelov's failure."

Irana's eyes widened. "You actually think he put the hammer back there?"

"Mikhail Zelov wasn't able to find a way to get the hammer out of that museum. Too many guards. Staunton would have been delighted to prove that he could not only put the hammer back somewhere in that museum, but steal it away again whenever it suited him. It would prove he was better than Zelov." She turned away again. "Of course, it's just a guess. Do whatever you like with it. Except let it destroy you. That's not one of the choices."

She didn't look back as she walked toward the elevators.

Four months later People's Museum Ekaterinaburg, Russia

THE HAMMER WAS LYING B E S I D E two huge fake rocks in a dis¬play depicting the progress of man through the centuries. The central figures were a peasant farmer and his wife laboring in the field.

Irana had thought the hammer would have been hidden away somewhere on the premises, but Staunton, with his customary bold¬ness, had chosen to place it on exhibit. Because it would have been harder to retrieve and another taunt at Mikhail Zelov if Staunton managed to do it?

Whatever his reason Irana was sure that the hammer lying on the ground as if carelessly tossed there was Zelov's hammer. It was crude and smaller than she would have thought, but it had a hefty ten-inch wooden handle and an iron head. It looked ancient and primitive but as if it could strike a sharp blow.

Why was she so certain it was Zelov's hammer? Irana wondered. Why had she felt as if she recognized that hammer from the moment she had seen it? "Why couldn't she force herself to look away from it?

And why has she felt compelled to come back from England to see if Emily had been right about its being here?

Too many questions. But one of those questions had been an¬swered. The others might never be answered.

She finally managed to pull her gaze away, turned, and headed for the front entrance. Her flight to return to England and Peter Joslyn was due to leave in two hours. She needed to be on it.

Two days later

Chadwick Estate, England

"YOU'RE LOOKING MUCH BETTER, Peter," Irana said as she walked across the terrace toward Joslyn. "Your color is good, and you appear more relaxed than I've ever seen you. Soon you'll have no need for me."

"I feel better." He smiled as he gestured for her to sit down in the chair opposite him. "Why not? The sun is shining, and it's a beautiful day. My daughter is down from university, and she keeps me young. But I'll always need you, Irana. My wife is convinced you saved my life."

"She's right; I'm a very good doctor." She amended, "Well, I helped. God gave me the skill, and your family gave you the reason to fight. You're very lucky, Peter."

"Yes, I am. Not only to have you as my doctor, but also as my friend. I missed you while you were gone. You must think I'm doing better if you thought I was well enough for you to leave me."

"I had some business that I had to take care of, and you were be¬ginning to resent my hovering."

"I didn't resent you. As I said, I know I'm lucky." He looked down at the newspaper in front of him. "Luckier than Emily. Why don't they leave her alone?"

Irana glanced at the photo. "Ferguson is feeding the frenzy. But she'll be fine. She just has to get through it. She's very strong."

"Yes." His gaze went to the beautifully manicured lawns stretching out before them. "I wish she'd let me help her."

"I know you do," Irana said. "So do I. But friends sometimes have to step back."

"She doesn't regard me as a friend." His expression clouded. "Who can blame her after all I've done to her? She went through hell, and I'm going to get off scot-free. I wish Ferguson hadn't been quite so ef¬ficient in erasing my involvement. I should be punished."

"You are being punished," Irana said. "Your soul is scarred, and you're suffering. You've lost your friend, Dimitri. You live with regret and guilt. That's great punishment, Peter."

"Not enough."

"Then God will have to decide. I hear you're planning on going back to Ethiopia on a mission as soon as you're able."

He nodded. "To help the children. Dimitri would want me to do it."

"Yes, he wanted desperately to help the children, didn't he? One of the last things he said to me was that he had to protect the hammer and protect the children." She followed his gaze to the rolling green lawns. "It was a rather odd phrasing. I didn't think anything of it at the time. It was only later that I began to wonder. I had plenty of time, staying here in your lovely home for these months." She could sense the slight stiffening of his body. "There were so many things that puzzled me."

"Really? I thought everything had pretty well been explained."

"Yes, so many explanations about the Tsar and Zelov and the great, grand fortune that everyone was after. All that was clear to me."

Joslyn's expression was distinctly wary. "And what was not?"

"The Tsar. He never trusted Zelov, but he accepted the hammer to hide that final amulet. Why?"

"Zelov convinced him that it was lucky, that it would bring him good fortune."

"And Zelov had been working for years, trying to use the hammer to cement his influence with the Tsar. That was only the last and most successful attempt. Why would he think that he could gain power in that way?"

"I have no idea." Joslyn looked away from her. "Why don't you tell me?"

"Nicholas II was extremely religious."

"That's no secret. Oh, yes, I remember that Zelov told the Tsar the hammer had been blessed by Rasputin."

"Yes, but that was almost an afterthought. Zelov had already pre¬pared the way with the Tsar."

"You're talking a great deal about this hammer."

"Because it always seemed strange to me that you and Bishop Dimitri would be so determined to get the hammer back." She paused. "Even for the money to help a world of children. "

His gaze shifted back to her. "What are you saying, Irana?"

"I'm saying the Tsar's fortune would lure most people. Not you, not Bishop Dimitri, not Bishop Nartova. So it had to be something else."

"Of course, it did. To keep Mikhail Zelov from getting the money, then to keep it away from other factions. Like Staunton."

Irana shook her head. "Plausible. Not enough."

"Then what?"

"The hammer itself," she said quietly. "I think that when Mikhail Zelov went to Bishop Nartova, he told him something that made it certain that he'd get his money to become a king in America."

"Really? What would that be?"

"Zelov was obsessed with the hammer. He'd brought it back from Jerusalem. He thought it gave him power. Add it all together. What hammer could he have unearthed in the Holy Land that would make him think that?"

She could see the pulse leap in Joslyn's temple. He didn't answer for a long moment. "You're talking about the Crucifix. Very far¬fetched, Irana."

"Yes, it stunned me when I realized that's where it was leading. Far-fetched and probably completely impossible to prove. But I think Bishop Nartova must have believed Mikhail Zelov enough to try to do anything to keep it away from him. The hammer could represent the holiest of sacrifices, but Zelov was using it for greed and evil. Nar¬tova couldn't bear the thought of risking the chance that the hammer in Zelov's possession was the one used on that day." She shook her head. "And neither could Bishop Dimitri. Nartova probably confided his suspicions to him, and your friend wanted only to protect it from the Zelovs of the world."

"If you're correct, it would seem that it all went wrong," Joslyn said.

"Bishop Dimitri was trying to make it right."

"You're saying that there's no amulet in that hammer, no Tsar's fortune?"

"No, I believe that the Tsar did use it for that purpose. But it wasn't the treasure you and Dimitri and Nartova were protecting."

Joslyn stared her in the eye. "I'm not admitting anything to you, Irana."

"I know. Bishop Dimitri probably made you swear not to mention it to anyone," Irana said gently. "And you'd never break your word."

"No, if I gave my word, I'd never break it," Joslyn said. "And you're right, it could never be proved, but it could cause endless conflict and turmoil if even the possibility of its existence was mentioned."

"I agree. That's what has been troubling me." She smiled slightly. "And that's why I decided to talk to you about it."

"It shouldn't trouble you. The hammer has disappeared and may never be found again. That bastard Staunton must have hidden it very well."

Irana nodded. "Yes, I believe you're right about that. He did hide it well."

"Then what are you going to do?" Joslyn's voice was urgent. "Leave it alone, Irana. You know what an uproar you could start if you begin making statements that even hint at what you're saying."

"I'm not one to hint at anything, Peter. I have a tendency to say everything with deplorable frankness."

"Not so deplorable except in this case."

"You're still trying to protect the hammer, Peter. You don't have to protect it from me."

"I have to protect it for Dimitri. I have to do what he'd want me to do. If there was any truth in your supposition, Dimitri would have said that if the hammer is ever found, it would be better to use the Tsar's fortune for good and not address the question of the origin of the hammer at all. Leave it to God to decide."

"I try to do that, but sometimes God wants us to handle things ourselves."

"Not now," Joslyn said emphatically. "Don't do it, Irana."

Was he right? Her heart and soul were leaning toward helping those children just as Bishop Dimitri had wanted to do. But to throw the Christian world into conflict over the hammer would be a terrible thing to do. It was what Zelov and Staunton would have loved to have happen.

And there were so many questions, and some answers, Joslyn didn't even know about. He thought the hammer was still lost, and that would have postponed any decision. She had not really come to Joslyn for advice, she had just wanted confirmation and to share a heavy bur¬den. It had probably not been fair to him. She had always shouldered her own burdens, and in the end this would be no exception.

Irana once more gazed out at the verdant lawns and brilliant blue sky. It was a day so beautiful that you wanted to tuck it into your memory to hold forever. She had many of those memories from Mykala. Each day was a gift and a blessing.

Why was she worrying when she had already been given so many gifts? She must only clear her mind of all selfishness, and the answers would come to her. To act now? To act later? To not act at all? It would come to her what her purpose was in this if she just accepted it as she did each sparkling day. A blessing…

"Bishop Dimitri was a very wise man, Peter." Irana smiled as she leaned back in her chair. "Yes, I'm sure God can take care of it. Let's leave it to him for now."