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. In 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.” L
edford’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 know 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.
Bantam Books by Iris Johansen
Blind Alley
Firestorm
Fatal Tide
Dead Aim
No One to Trust
Body of Lies
Final Target
The Search
The Killing Game
The Face of Deception
And Then You Die
Long After Midnight
The Ugly Duckling
Lion’s Bride
Dark Rider
Midnight Warrior
The Beloved Scoundrel
The Magnificent Rogue
The Tiger Prince
Last Bridge Home
The Golden Barbarian
Reap the Wind
Storm Winds
The Wind Dancer
Final Target
A Bantam Book
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2001 by Johansen Publishing LLLP.
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eISBN: 978-0-307-41806-7
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Iris Johansen, Final Target
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