Final Target

Chapter Twenty-Six

"My God, what a pair of crocks." Galen watched from the pilot's seat as CIA agents lifted Travis's stretcher into the helicopter. "It's hard to believe that you-"

"Take off, Galen," Travis said. "I'm not interested in your insults."

"You should be. I do it so well." He glanced at Melissa. "You should really watch who you hang out with. I'd have kept you from being hurt."

"Hush," Melissa said. "Go."

A moment later the helicopter was rising and turning south.

Melissa looked down to see Andreas and Cassie coming down the steps. Cassie lifted her hand and waved. Melissa waved back.

"Cassie?" Travis asked.

She nodded. "I'm glad he brought her to say good-bye." She wrinkled her nose. "At least he won't order a rocket launcher to take out the helicopter while she's around."

"He wouldn't do that. I'm the only one he's having a problem with."

"You might be able to solve it sometime. Who knows, you may be able to tap one of your sources and give him a tidbit of valuable information."

"Possibly."

"And Cassie is going to prove a shock to him when he finds out she's brought back the same kind of psychic baggage I did. He may need help with her."

"We're not sure she has. You haven't been able to bond with her since she woke, have you?"

"Once." She paused. "And I found she'd already picked up some very interesting info when she was in the tunnel. Now that she's out, her ability may grow like wildfire."

"What kind of info?"

"When you were unconscious, she said, 'If I stay out, he has to stay out too.' " She looked him in the eye. "Now, what do you think she meant by that?"

He stiffened. "I'm sure you're going to tell me."

"I thought a lot about it last night."

" I'm sorry to have kept you awake."

"Perhaps we should ask Dr. Dedrick."

"That's one solution."

"Except, dammit, there's no Dr. Dedrick, is there? You made him up. What would you have done if I'd called your bluff when you offered to lend me your book?"

"I didn't think it was likely. You were too involved in Jessica's problems." He shrugged. "And I wanted to help you."

"I should have guessed. You were so blasted understanding about what was happening to me. Your information sources weren't the same as Galen's. You knew about the attack on Vasaro but not about Deschamps. And you were able to help Cassie when she was rejecting everyone else. We just assumed it was because you'd saved her at Vasaro, but there was something else too, wasn't t here?"

"I don't know. I'm not an expert on how it works. It could have been for either reason."

"No wonder you were so interested in Cassie. You identified with her. You were struck on the head and unconscious in that hospital for months after your father died. Where were you during that time, Travis? A tunnel, a cave, a forest?"

"No, a boat, a very strong, well-built cruiser with the speed of light that could run away from anything or anyone."

"Monsters?"

"I had my share of them. But I had an impetus that sprung me free of the trauma. I'd seen my father murdered, and hatred is a very powerful goad." He looked away from her. "Then the dreams started. And a little later I'd occasionally see…things. I never joined with anyone like you did with Cassie. Evidently, it doesn't work the same with everyone. In the first year, I realized what a tiger I had by the tail. I couldn't see something when I wanted to see it. I felt like it owned me."

"Did you tell Jan?"

He shook his head. "I didn't tell Jan or anyone else. I just bottled it up inside. Sometimes I could stop what I saw. Sometimes I couldn't. Sometimes I didn't want to stop it. I thought I deserved a little profit from all the hell I was going through. When I was old enough, I went searching for answers and I found a few, but we belong to a very exclusive club. Which was why I was so fascinated when I found out about Cassie…and you. It's almost enough to make you believe in fate."

"It wasn't fate that made you step in and involve yourself with Cassie."

"No, it started out as curiosity and then I got pulled in."

"Why didn't you just tell me? Why couldn't you share it with me?"

"At first, we weren't exactly friends. No, that's not the reason. It's…difficult for me to talk about it. I've become accustomed to handling it by myself." He grimaced. "Okay, you said once that maybe I was in a tunnel just like Cassie. You didn't know how close you came. Maybe you were right. Maybe I haven't learned to deal with it in a sane, healthy way. I just did the best I could."

"Were you ever going to confide in me?"

"Sure. Maybe. I hope so. It wouldn't have been easy for me. I'm not like you. You're open and you reach out to everything and everybody." He met her gaze. "If you needed me to do it, I would have told you. I'll give you anything that you need from me."

"Travis, I could strangle you."

"Does that mean you're going to throw me out of your life?" His tone was light, but his expression wasn't. "I'd find that very difficult to accept. So difficult that going back into a trauma state would be easy by comparison."

She had never seen him this vulnerable. There was so much she didn't know about him. So much still to learn. He was constantly thinking, moving, planning. He'd lived a life of which she had no real conception. This might be only the first of the secrets she'd find out about him. Travis was definitely no angel.

What the hell. He'd never be boring.

"Why should I throw you out? You're probably the only man in the world who understands me. But you do have a few faults that are going to cause us some big headaches." She took his hand and smiled at him. "Oh, well, I guess we'll just have to work on it."

Dear Reader,

If you've read any of my recent suspense novels, such as The Search or Rnal Target, you'd probably be surprised to learn that I actually began my career writing historical romances. Several years ago I began thinking of writing a book centered on a magnificent ancient statue with mystical powers. But the more I thought about the book, the more complex the concept grew, and I realized it could not be contained in one book. It was soon clear this was to be a trilogy-the story of a family whose fate was intertwined with the Wind Dancer through the centuries-and although they were love stories, they were also filled with suspense and adventure. The books stand alone, but the Wind Dancer is central to the thread of suspense that runs through each of them.

The first book, entitled The Wind Dancer, is set in Renaissance Italy during the reign of the Borgias. It's a story of ambition and revenge and the statue that sent the mighty Borgias spiraling downward. Interestingly enough, Lorenzo, the Assassin, is probably my favorite of all the secondary characters I've ever created.

The second book, Storm Winds, takes place during the turbulence of the French Revolution and concerns the role played by the Wind Dancer in the rescue of a member of the royal family. It's also a love story and follows the lifelong friendship between two women.

Reap the Wind, the third and final novel in the trilogy, is a contemporary suspense. It's a thriller on a global scale and moves from the streets of Paris to the White House. I can't say that I didn't enjoy the tremendous amount of traveling I had to do to make sure each and every detail was correct. The characters came alive for me and the enthusiasm for writing these books became obsession. I've always believed that some books are written with the mind and others with the heart. The Wind Dancer books involved both my mind and my heart, and the characters and mystique stayed with me long after I finished writing the trilogy. Even though a decade has passed since I finished Reap the Wind, I couldn't resist bringing the statue back to ignite the swirl of violence and intrigue in.

Imagine my surprise when came out and I found myself inundated with mail from my readers asking about the history of the Wind Dancer. I'm delighted to take this opportunity to explain this link to my earlier titles. When I reread Reap the Wind, I got to do what most authors never have a chance to do-go back and do a little reworking. What author can resist tweaking a bit when given the chance?

You're going to find Reap the Wind a little different from my more recent thrillers, because it's a bit more sensual. But if you want to find out more about the Wind Dancer, there's no better place to go.

And after reading Reap the Wind, if it's piqued your interest in this statue, you can always go back and read about the Wind Dancer's history, first in Renaissance Italy and then in Storm Winds, set during the French Revolution. I think you'll like them. I'm very proud of these books.

I guess it's obvious that I'm one of the lucky people who truly love their work. I'd like to thank you for reading my stories and making that work possible. I'll try never to disappoint you.

– Iris Johansen

Look for

Reap the Windy

on sale 8/27/

St. Basil, Switzerland

June 14,

The jeweled eyes of the Wind Dancer, secret, enigmatic, inhumanly patient, gazed out of the black-and-white photograph at Alex Karazov.

The uncanny impression that a mysterious sentience exuded from the statue had to be a trick of light. Alex shook his head. Impossible. But now he could understand the statue's mystique and the stories that had grown up around it. The book he held was over sixty years old and the picture probably didn't even do the statue justice. He skimmed the caption beneath the picture.

"The Wind Dancer, recognized as one of the most valuable art objects in the world. The famous 'eyes of the Wind Dancer' are two perfectly matched almond-shaped emeralds, 65.60 carats each. Four hundred and forty-seven diamonds encrust the base of the winged statue of Pegasus.

"In her book Facts and Legends of the Wind Dancer, published in 1923, Lily Andreas claimed there were historical references indicating the Wind Dancer had been in the possession of Alexander the Great during his first campaign in Persia in 323 B.C.; later, it was said to have passed to Charlemagne during his reign. Andreas's book was the subject of controversy. She claimed that a host of the most influential figures throughout the ages had not only possessed the Wind Dancer but asserted that it had contributed decisively to their success or failure. Both the antiquity of the statue and its history were challenged by the London and Cairo museums at the time."

Alex impatiently closed Art Treasures of the World, pushing it aside as Pavel set a stack of five more volumes on the desk. He already knew the contents of Lily Andreas's book. He remembered Ledford quoting it chapter and verse as if it were the Bible.

Pavel raised one bushy black brow. "No luck?"

Alex shook his head. "Too early. I need facts, not legends." He reached for the top book on the stack, flipped it open to the index, ran his finger down the chapter headings until he found the one labeled "Wind Dancer," then thumbed to the correct page." For God's sake, you'd think the damn statue had disappeared from the planet." Speed reading through the chapter, he muttered, "At least this book gets us out of the roaring twenties. It mentions the Wind Dancer's confiscation by the Germans in 1939 and its discovery in Hitler's mountain retreat after World War Two." He slammed the book shut." But I'm wasting time. Call the curator of the Louvre and-"

"Ask where the Wind Dancer is now," Pavel finished for him. "You know, of course, they'll probably try to trace the call and notify Interpol. I imagine the management of the Louvre is a bit touchy since they 'lost' the 'Mona Lisa' yesterday."

"Maybe," Alex said, distracted. He stood up and walked across the room to a long table on which a number of headlined newspaper articles had been cut out and arranged like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.

MICHELANGELO'S "DAVID" DISAPPEARS FROM FLORENCE

TERRORIST GROUP BLACK MEDINA ASSASSINATES CARDINAL ON WAY TO VATICAN

POLICE BAFFLED AT REMBRANDT'S "NIGHT WATCH" THEFT FROM AMSTERDAM MUSEUM

TERRORIST GROUP BLACK MEDINA KILLS THREE IN BOMBING AT CHARLES DE GAULLE AIRPORT

"MONA LISA" STOLEN FROM LOUVRE

Several other articles lay under a jade paperweight, and Alex glanced at them as he tried to decide whether he was interested enough to commit to it. If he was right, that call would cause even more furor than Pavel believed.

Oh, what the hell. Why not?" Phone anyway. Give my name and say I'm doing research for a novel. I need to know where the Wind Dancer is right now. Oh, the Louvre curator's name is Emile Desloge."

Pavel nodded, his black eyes twinkling as he studied Alex's intent face." I call the Louvre and you get another piece for your puzzle." He gave a mock sigh. "And when the statue is stolen, at whose door will the police come knocking?" He lightly tapped the massive bulk of his gray-sweatered chest with one hand. "Pavel Rubanski's door. You bring me nothing but trouble. If I had any sense, I'd leave you and find a job with someone who offers less pay and greater job security."

"You'd be bored as hell." Alex grinned as he sat down at the table and drew the latest article toward him. "God knows I am."

Lumbering to the door, Pavel halted and looked back at Alex in surprise. "I'm glad you're finally admitting it. Now I can do something besides feed you information for your infernal puzzles. What's the use of being a rich man if you don't spend your money? Instead of calling the Louvre, I'll phone the travel agent and arrange a nice, sunny vacation in Martinique. You always enjoyed going to Martinique at this time of year." His tone became coaxing. "Or we'll send for Angela and one of her friends for a pleasant little weekend orgy."

Alex's lips twitched as he looked at the hopeful expression on Pavel's face. "And you're betting one or the other of those distractions will take my mind off the Wind Dancer."

Pavel nodded. "You may be under KGB and CIA blankets of protection, but I'm not so favored where Interpol is concerned. I'm a peaceful man who wants only a little sunshine, a little sex, maybe a fine gourmet meal now and then-"

"Now and then?" Alex smiled affectionately. "You haven't stepped on the scales lately."

"That's not fat, it's muscle. I'm a big man and I need fuel. Besides, what else can I do up here in the mountains but eat? Now, on Martinique I could just lie on the beach with a pina colada and not have to worry about snow or ice-or Interpol asking me uncomfortable questions."

"Interpol's too busy clutching at straws and chasing after every clue in sight to bother with you." Alex thought about those recent newspaper headlines and frowned. "I wonder if that's part of it…"

"Part of what?"

Alex didn't answer, his mind busily sorting out information, drawing conclusions, discarding them, moving the information to new positions, drawing other conclusions, and fitting pieces together until they formed a picture with which he could be satisfied.

"Never mind," Pavel grumbled."I might as well live on this blasted mountain by myself. No one can talk to you when you're working on one of your puzzles. It's not as if you had to do it for a living anymore. You're a damn addict." He swung the door shut behind him.

Was Pavel right? Alex wondered. Probably. He had worked at the task too long and knew too well the heady exhilaration of finally solving a puzzle. After Afghanistan he had thought he would never delve willingly into a project again, but he hadn't counted on the habits the years had formed. Since he had come to St. Basil he had drifted back into the pattern of gathering information and projecting events for his own amusement. But this new puzzle was much more intriguing than any he had ever run across, and Alex could feel the adrenaline begin to flow through his veins as excitement gripped him. He felt alive, functioning at the top of his form once more.

One hour later Pavel entered the study and tossed a legal pad on the table in front of Alex.

"Here it is. The Wind Dancer is owned presently by Jonathan Andreas."

"Where is it?"

"At the Andreas compound in Port Andreas, South Carolina. Andreas is one of the wealthiest men in America and the compound is bristling with bodyguards and security people. The house has a state-of-the-art security system."

"So did the Louvre," Alex said dryly. "It didn't prevent thieves from stealing the 'Mona Lisa.' " He looked down at the notes on the yellow legal pad. "What's this about Vasaro?"

"Vasaro, the estate, is located near Grasse in France and raises flowers for the perfume industry. The family Vasaro is distantly related to the Andreases; it was the French cousins who convinced Jonathan Andreas's father to lend the Wind Dancer to the Louvre in 1939 to earn money to ransom eleven Jewish artists held hostage by the Germans. Five years ago, while she was attending the Sorbonne, a Caitlin Vasaro did a research paper on the significance of the Wind Dancer in history that was used as the cornerstone for a doctorate study by Andre Beaujolis."

"Do the Vasaros have any claim to the Wind Dancer?"

Pavel shook his head. "But the French government challenged the Andreas family in 1876 on the grounds that Marie Antoinette's gift wasn't legal under the revolutionary assembly. They lost the suit." He paused. "You think the Wind Dancer is going to be heisted next?"

"Probably not."

"Then may I ask why I've spent almost an entire hour on the phone with an extremely suspicious French curator?"

"Every art object stolen has been of major cultural importance to the countries of Europe. The statue of David in Italy, the 'Night Watch' in Holland, now the 'Mona Lisa' in France. The Wind Dancer would be a prime candidate for theft if it was still in Europe." Alex shrugged. "But it's not likely to be a target while it's safe on U.S. soil. Too bad."

" I'm sure Jonathan Andreas doesn't think so."

Alex chuckled, his blue eyes suddenly sparkling in his tanned face. "Why the hell are you so glum?"

"Because you're not. You're excited as hell and operating on all cylinders. You're on the trail of something. I know you, Alex."

Alex gazed at him innocently.

"Why did you have me call the Louvre when I could have found out what you wanted to know by tapping Goldbaum or one of the usual newspaper sources?"

" Interpol won't bother you, Pavel."

"But you did want me to stir something up when I made the call."

Alex nodded." I had a hunch and wanted to leapfrog a few obstacles. Don't worry, it won't put your neck on the line."

" I'm not worrying. My neck has been on the line before." Pavel smiled. "Remember that prisoner at Diranev? I thought I'd had it for sure before you stepped in and chopped him."

"You owed me money. I had to keep you alive to collect."

"And all this time you had me convinced you'd done it because of the nobility of your soul."

"How could that be when I don't even know the meaning of the word nobility."

"But you know the meaning of the word friendship," Pavel said softly.

Alex quickly looked down. "Lord, you're getting maudlin in your old age."

" I'm merely playing cleverly on your sympathy to gain what I want from you."

"And what do you want?"

"Martinique. I can't stand all this snow. It reminds me of Diranev. Why you decided to buy a house in Switzerland baffles me."

"It's one of the few countries left on earth that permits a man to live with a minimum of red tape."

" I can stand a little red tape if it gets me out of the ice and snow." He stared pleadingly at Alex. "Martinique?"

Pavel looked like a wistful puppy gazing at a bone just out of reach, Alex thought with affection. "Okay. Martinique. After I finish with-"

"Dammit, the next ice age will be here by the time you get to the end of this one." Pavel turned away and strode toward the door. "I should have sent for Angela without asking you. You're much more pliable to suggestion when you're operating on a physical and not a cerebral level."

"Pavel."

"Yes?"

"I'm expecting a call. Put it through right away, will you?"

"Who?"

"Ledford."

Pavel's eyes widened in astonishment. "Christ," he whispered.

"Hardly." Alex's lips twisted sardonically. "Our friend Ledford is much closer to Lucifer."

"You think he's responsible for all this?" Pavel nodded at the news clippings.

"Some of it bears his stamp. Ledford's always displayed a certain flamboyance and he'd headed several of the Agency's operations involving art objects before they assigned him to me."

" I'd forgotten that." Pavel frowned, trying to remember the details. "He stole back that Del Sarto used to ransom a Portuguese diplomat in Brazil, didn't he?"

"Among many others."

"It's a CIA operation?"

"At first I thought so. Not now."

"Then what?"

Alex shrugged. "Perhaps we'll find out when Ledford phones."

Pavel's eyes narrowed. "That's why you had me call the Louvre. You didn't really think the Wind Dancer was the next target. You were issuing an invitation."

"More in the nature of a summons." Alex grinned.

" Ledford always has had a passion for the Wind Dancer. He used to rave about it. He'll understand what my inquiry about the statue means."

"You believe the curator is collaborating with Ledford?"

"He's probably in contact with Ledford or whoever stole the 'Mona Lisa.' Security was too tight at the Louvre for anyone but the curator to be able to bypass it."

"Bribery?"

" It would have to be extravagant bribery. I'd say in the multimillions."

" That doesn't make any sense. Why pay millions to steal a painting that can't be fenced? Even a closet collector wouldn't risk buying a painting as famous as the 'Mona Lisa.' "

"An interesting question." Alex leaned back in his chair. "We'll have to find out, won't we?"

"Ledford won't discuss this over the phone. He'll come here."

"Probably."

" It's a mistake, Alex. If it is Ledford, you shouldn't have let him know you're on to him."

"He'll be no problem. I've dealt with him before."

" But you were on the same side."

"He's a bastard but not capable of any major mischief."

"He could have changed." Pavel grimaced. "He was different with you, and I believe you're underestimating him." He left the study.

Alex stared down at the yellow pad, doodling absently with a pen, drawing circles around the word Vasaro, underlining Wind Dancer, scrawling four question marks after the name Jonathan Andreas. Maybe Pavel was right and Alex was taking a risk. When he had spotted the possibility that Ledford was involved in the puzzle, his interest had escalated. His past dealings with the man had left a sour taste in his mouth, and he had looked forward to pulling this particular devil's tail. But perhaps this godawful boredom was clouding his judgment and leading him to take chances he wouldn't ordinarily take.

Well, it was done now. If Ledford was involved, he now knew Alex was interested. Alex could only wait for Ledford to react.

Impatiently, he threw the pen aside, rose to his feet, and moved across the room to stand looking out the window at the snow-capped peaks of the Alps. The leaden gray sky hovered over the mountains while blacker clouds roiled in from the north. A storm was coming. Not that it mattered. The chalet was well stocked, had its own generator, and Alex rather liked the feeling of isolation created by banks of snow. He could adjust to society when necessary, but preferred a solitary state.

"He's here, Alex." Pavel threw open the door and stepped aside to allow Brian Ledford to enter Alex's study. "Will you need me?"

"Of course we won't need you." Brian Ledford shrugged out of his beaver-collared overcoat as he strolled into the room.

Pavel ignored him. "Alex?"

Alex shook his head.

Pavel hesitated, frowning uneasily, his gaze on Ledford. Then he shrugged his massive shoulders and shut the door.

"Cautious bastard. I'd forgotten how protective Pavel is of you." Ledford tossed his overcoat on the brown leather couch. "Good God, it's cold out there. I hope you appreciate my sacrifice in coming out in this weather to see you."

Beneath his coat Ledford wore a Savile Row gray tweed suit; he pulled steel-gray Italian leather gloves from his hands and unwound a blue cashmere scarf from his strong, thick neck. Other than Ledford's sartorial elegance, he looked little different from the man Alex had last seen five years before.

His voice boomed out heartily. "Ah, Alex, my boy, how good it is to see you again. When I spoke to you on the phone last night, I admit I was a little irritated with you, but I realize now how foolish it is to let present conflicts interfere with our fondness for each other. Sometimes I miss those days in Virginia. I even miss our chess games." He grimaced. "I suppose that makes me a masochist, because I never won. But I'm an optimistic man, and there was always hope even when pitting myself against the Company's superman."

For an instant Alex felt himself being swept away by Ledford's charisma as he had so many years before. Then memory returned and he could look at him with clear eyes. He warily shook his head. "I'm afraid I never missed either you or those days, Ledford."

Ledford tossed the light blue cashmere scarf aside. "I gather you're not in the mood for pleasantries? Well then, let's get down to business. How much do you know?"

"You're part of the group behind the art thefts. It's probably a well-organized, well-funded operation." Alex smiled faintly. "And the thefts are only part of something bigger in scope."

Ledford nodded approvingly. "Anything else?"

Alex kept his expression bland as he took a wild shot. "Black Medina."

Ledford threw back his head and laughed. "When we started the operation, I expected you to make the connection eventually and I warned my associate that you'd be a danger to us." He shook his head. "He wouldn't believe me. You do have to admit you're pretty unbelievable at times."

Alex felt a ripple of excitement. Jackpot. He'd been right about the connection. "Associate? We're not talking about the Company, are we?"

"I left the CIA after you pulled off your grand slam and bolted the fold. I'm involved in much more lucrative endeavors now." He looked around the study with appraising eyes. "Gorgeous place, Alex. Excellent taste. I particularly admire that Van Gogh you have in the foyer. The entire chalet is just what I would have expected of you. Private, aesthetic, and yet a touch of the voluptuous in color and fabric. You always were something of a

Renaissance man." His glance shifted to the stack of books on the desk. "An excellent library?"

"Of course."

Ledford nodded. "A stupid question. That inquiring brain has to be fed. I remember how you devoured every book in sight when you defected to us. I had to keep running out to the libraries and bringing you more." He gazed directly into Alex's eyes. "We were good friends then, weren't we, Alex?"

"Tolerable."

"You liked me." Ledford grinned. "Admit it. You thought I was Uncle Sam and Mark Twain rolled into one."

"You shouldn't congratulate yourself too much. I was easy. I was at a stage where I needed to believe in something or someone." He inclined his head in agreement. "But yes, you were very good indeed."

Ledford nodded. "You bet I was. The best. And I've gotten better since we parted ways. I consider my time in the CIA as basic training. I'm now reaching my full potential."

"You wouldn't be here if you'd gotten better. You're still predictable, Ledford."

"Only to you. We all have our own nemesis, and you're mine." He paused. "And I'm yours, Alex." He smiled. "May I have a drink?"

"No."

Ledford snapped his fingers. "I knew you'd say that. You, too, are predictable. You won't serve an enemy in your own house. There's something positively medieval about you at times, Alex."

Alex shrugged. "First I'm a Renaissance man and now I'm medieval. Make up your mind."

" I was right both times. You're brilliant and ruthless as any Medici and yet you have a certain code." He shook his head. "Such codes limit an ambitious man. I wonder how you've climbed as high as you have with that albatross around your neck." His brow wrinkled as he gazed at Alex. "And you've never learned the cardinal rule."

" I'm sure you're going to enlighten me as to what the cardinal rule is."

Ledford made a clucking noise. "Sarcasm isn't necessary. I was counting on conducting a nice, friendly conversation." He sat up straighter in his chair. "The cardinal rule is adaptation. Change your coloration to suit your surroundings."

"Some people would call that hypocritical."

"Only the fools of the world. And you're no fool, even if you do make mistakes."

"What mistakes are you referring to?"

"Having Pavel make that call to Desloge. You might as well have blown a whistle and waved your arms. First I was steaming mad, but then I was almost glad you decided to put your hand in. My feelings about you have always been ambivalent." He tilted his head, studying Alex. "You know, you're a beautiful specimen. I was quite mad about you at one time. It was hard as hell to keep myself from trying to seduce you when we were working so closely together." He burst out laughing and slapped his hand on his knee as he saw the astonishment on Alex's face. "That rocked you. God, you never knew, did you?"

"No."

Ledford shrugged. "They were a macho bunch at the Company. One false step and I would have been out. Adaptation."

"I see."

"But you were a real temptation to me. You frustrated me sexually and bested me mentally." Ledford's smile faded. "I think that's why I started to hate you."

Alex leaned back against the windowsill. "Not because I beat you at chess?"

"Well, that too. I hate to lose. It hurts my pride not to be the best at whatever I do. How could I compete against that damn talent of yours?" His index finger idly rubbed the leather on the arm of the chair. "But I adapted. I became your buddy."

"And my controller," Alex added without expression.

"Someone had to do it. All that wild talent just waiting to be used…" He shook his head regretfully. "You made me look damn good until that conscience of yours kicked into gear. You weren't intended to know about the results of the Afghanistan project." A glint of anger appeared on his face. "When you exploded you brought a good deal of humiliation down on my head. I suppose it was Pavel who told you?"

"Yes."

"I advised the Agency against accepting Pavel when you both came over. I knew it would be better to isolate you."

" I wouldn't have defected without him."

"Ah, friendship…What a wonderful thing it is." Ledford smiled. "You've been together for how many years?"

" Thirteen. We met when we were both in the Spetznez. As you well know." Alex turned away from the window and stared at Ledford. "And you didn't come here to praise the merits of friendship."

"No, I came here to tell you to back off. This is a bigger operation than anything you could dream." Ledford stood up in one lithe, leisurely movement. "Stay on your mountaintop and work your puzzles. Leave the real world to those who are prepared to deal with it."

"Is that what your 'associate' wants?"

Ledford's smile remained but became set in place." I should have known you'd guess we weren't in agreement. No, he wants you on the team. He regards you as a valuable asset." His voice lowered in silken softness. "I would find that intolerable. I won't take second place ever again."

"No?" Alex's tone was deliberately mocking. "Pity. You filled it so well."

"You don't understand, do you? When you left the Company, everything for which I'd worked for fifteen years came crashing down around me. hi another two years I would have taken over McMillan's job and been able to launch myself to the top, where I belonged." A flush reddened Ledford's cheeks. "I didn't leave the Company, they jettisoned me because I wasn't clever enough to see you were going after McMillan. I was pretty frenzied for a while. I wanted to take everything away from you, as you'd taken it from me. I regard it as a triumph of self-discipline that I've managed to subdue my anger and ignore you all these years." Ledford's eyes narrowed on Alex's face. "You've never understood the real reason I developed such a passion for the Wind Dancer, have you?"

"It's a magnificent work of art."

"And the ultimate symbol of power. From the moment I saw it, I knew it would always be a beacon, showing me what I could be."

"Delusions of glory?"

"Not delusions. Truth. You've got everything you want now. Money, security, women. Why dabble when it won't benefit you?"

"Perhaps because it's an interesting problem. You should kno.w how difficult I find it to resist solving problems. At one time you used that weakness of mine." Why was he goading Ledford? Alex wondered wearily. He had thought he had put his antagonism and disillusionment about Ledford behind him, yet he found he was experiencing a perverse pleasure in taunting the man. It was rather like teasing a rattlesnake just to hear it rattle. "And it gets a little boring at times on my mountaintop."

Ledford nodded with immediate understanding. "I remember boredom was always a problem for you. Boredom and curiosity. You really should remember that curiosity killed that proverbial cat." He glanced at his wristwatch and smiled. "Well, I must run along. It was good seeing you and reliving old times."

Alex stiffened at the abruptness of Ledford's departure. "You're leaving?"

"My driver and two of my subordinates are in the living room waiting. I have to get to the airport while the weather is still clear." Ledford picked up his coat and put it on. "I knew when I came here it would be useless. You're obviously not going to be influenced by words and I'm a very busy man."

"Another 'Mona Lisa' to steal?"

"We both know there's only one 'Mona Lisa.' " He tugged on his leather gloves. "Just as there's only one Alex Karazov."

Alex inclined his head in a mocking bow. "I'm now waiting for the shaft."

" No shaft. I told you my feelings for you were ambivalent." Ledford flexed his big hands, obviously enjoying the feel of the soft leather against his palms." But I won't compete with you in my own arena, so I'll just have to discourage you from entertaining any offers." ~

"Which means?"

"I'd rather have you as an enemy than on the same team. Oh, I know I can't touch you at the moment. What a clever lad you were to get both the CIA and the KGB in a stranglehold. We really don't want to involve them in our plans right now." Ledford's broad smile brimmed with goodwill as he added, "By the way, you did know that luscious Italian model you've been screwing is a KGB swallow?"

"I've suspected it. I wasn't sure if she belonged to them or to the CIA," Alex said without inflection. "Angela's affiliations don't really affect our relationship one way or the other."

Ledford nodded. "You always were a cynical bastard where women were concerned. I thought you were too savvy to form an attachment with even the most skilled whore they could produce." He picked up his cashmere scarf and moved toward the door. "Still, there was the faintest possibility you cared something for her. Why don't you give her a call?"

Alex stiffened. "Is that a threat?"

"No, just a suggestion." He stared at Alex. "You're still finding it hard to see me as I really am. You remember me only as the man you knew five years ago. I told you

I'd graduated from basic training and I assure you that I don't hesitate to make examples these days. Sometimes I even enjoy it. Good-bye, Alex. Our little chat has been pleasant. I do hope you won't force me to look you up again."

Alex felt a chill along his spine as he watched the door close behind Ledford. Those last words had been a threat and his reference to Angela no coincidence. Pavel was right, Alex had made a mistake in underestimating Ledford.

Christ, he hoped it wasn't too late!

He moved quickly to the desk, picked up the receiver, and punched in Angela Di Marco's number at her apartment in Rome.

No answer.

Alex listened to the ringing at the other end of the line, the panic rising in him. Nothing had to be wrong. It was only midnight.

"Hello." Angela's voice was impatient.

Relief surged through him. "Angela, stay in your apartment. Lock the door. If you've got anyone with you, get rid of him."

"Alex?"

"Don't argue. Just do as I say." He paused. "It might be a good idea to call your contact in the KGB and tell him to reassign you somewhere out of Europe. It's not going to be healthy for you here."

She didn't speak for a moment. "You know? It was nothing personal, Alex. I truly like you."

"I know. Nothing personal."

He hung up the receiver. His initial relief was quickly being replaced by guilt and self-disgust. He had only been amusing himself, toying with his damn puzzle, fighting boredom when he had taunted Ledford. Now the game had become serious. A woman could have died to make sure Alex would reject any bid to work for Ledford's "associate." He had underestimated Ledford, who wouldn't make him the one to suffer for it.

But Angela hadn't been hurt. Why not?

Alex closed his eyes, trying to put the pieces together.

Because Ledford knew her death would not have affected Alex in any meaningful way.

But why offer an empty threat? Why make sure that Alex would immediately make a call to Rome?

"I left my driver and two of my subordinates in the living room."

What had Ledford's men been doing while he had been talking to Alex in the study? Why did he want to make sure Alex would remain in the study and give him a chance to leave the chalet?

Alex felt a sudden cold sickness in the pit of his stomach.

Who was the only person in the entire world Alex gave a damn about?

Angela was the red herring…

"Christ!" Alex's eyes flicked open. "Pavel!" He whirled and ran across the study toward the door. "Pavel? Where the hell are-"

The first thing Alex saw was the blue cashmere scarf looped around Pavel's throat.

Pavel was strapped in a white suede easy chair facing the study, a leather gag in his mouth. His black eyes bulged from their sockets and his heavy features were frozen in a rictus of agony.

He had been castrated-then carved from belly to breastbone with the butcher knife that still protruded from his chest.