Countdown

  Venable called on the land line.” Bartlett was coming out of the library when Jane and Trevor came in the front door. “He said he couldn’t reach you on your cell. Neither could I.”

  “I turned it off. I figured I could give myself an hour of peace,” Trevor said. “Important?”

  “He wouldn’t confide in me. But I’d say we can assume he considers everything he does important.” He turned to Jane. “You didn’t eat any supper. Would you like me to fix you a sandwich?”

  “No, I’m not hungry.” She started up the stairs. “I’m going to bed. Unless one of you would like to tell me who Venable is?”

  “A man who shares our fears about Grozak,” Trevor said. “Unfortunately, he’s uncertain what to do about it.”

  “And you’re not uncertain?”

  “Not in the least.” He headed down the hall. “But it’s a problem when the Venables of the world get in the way.”

  “Yet you’re evidently allowing him access to you.” She stopped on the third step. “I’m not going to be shut out any longer, Trevor. I’m tired of it. You’ve used Cira as a red herring to keep me from focusing on Grozak, and I let you do it because she meant so much to me. I said a few days. It’s over.”

  “Cira wasn’t exactly a red herring.” He studied her expression. “But you’re right, it’s gone on too long. You’ve got to start to trust me. I’ll work on it.” He smiled. “Tomorrow.” He disappeared into the library.

  It was just as well he hadn’t picked up the challenge she’d issued, she thought wearily. Her emotions were raw and she was confused and, yes, frustrated. The night had been too intense and had sent her spiraling through a tornado of sexual tension. She’d barely been able to keep her composure on the way back from the Run. She’d been aware of every movement of his body as he walked beside her. It was idiotic to respond like this. Jesus, it wasn’t as if she was the inexperienced kid she’d been when she first met him.

  “You can trust him, you know,” Bartlett said gravely. “He’s a bit erratic, but Trevor’s never let me down when it counted.”

  “Really? But then, your relationship is a good deal different, isn’t it? Good night, Bartlett.”

  “Good night.” He started down the hall toward the library. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Yes, tomorrow. She’d go to Mario’s study first thing and stay there a few hours to get ready to confront Trevor. Those hours with Mario had been tranquil, and she needed that peace. Tonight she’d sleep and block out Trevor, try not to think how much she’d wanted to touch him. Hell, touch him? She’d wanted to pull him into bed and rut like a damn nymphomaniac. She couldn’t think of a bigger mistake. She had to keep a clear head and she didn’t know if she could if she became sexually involved with Trevor. She’d never had this kind of intense response to any man, and the bond between them was as strong now as it had been four years ago. She couldn’t afford for it to gain any more power.

  Then don’t remember how it felt sitting beside him on that boulder at the Run. Concentrate on this Venable.

  Trevor had just hung up when Bartlett came into the library.

  Bartlett raised his brows. “That was quick. I take it Venable was overreacting?”

  “Maybe.” Trevor was frowning thoughtfully. “But I’d rather he overreact than sit on his ass and live in la-la land like Sabot.”

  “What was the problem?”

  “Quinn’s been trying to access the CIA records on Grozak. It made Venable nervous.” He shrugged. “It was bound to happen. Quinn’s an ex-FBI man and he has contacts. He’ll find a way to get the info he wants. I’ll deal with it when it happens.”

  “And that’s all Venable wanted?”

  Trevor shook his head. “He said that he had an informant in Switzerland who said something important was going down in Lucerne.”

  “What? Grozak?”

  “Vague. But a possibility.”

  Bartlett tilted his head. “It’s bothering you.”

  “Grozak always bothers me if I’m not sure where he’s going to jump next.”

  “Maybe Venable’s informant got it wrong.”

  “And maybe he got it right.” He leaned back in the chair, his mind trying to process those possibilities. “Lucerne . . .”

  Jock is going to meet us at the fountain,” MacDuff said as he crossed the courtyard toward Jane. “If that’s all right with you?”

  “I don’t care.” She sat down on the rim of the fountain and opened her sketchbook. “When is he coming?”

  “In a few minutes. He’s watering his plants.” He frowned. “What are you doing?”

  “Sketching you. I hate wasting time.” Her pencil was moving rapidly over the page. “You’ve got a very interesting face. All hard lines, except for the mouth. . . .” She added a few lines to the cheekbones. “I knew you reminded me of someone. Did you ever see that TV program Highlander?”

  “No, I was spared that.”

  “You look like the actor who plays the lead.”

  “Oh, God.”

  “He was very good.” She smiled slyly, wondering how far she could take this. “And pretty, very pretty.”

  He didn’t rise to the bait. “Jock is the one who you’re supposed to be sketching.”

  “I’m loosening up. It’s like stretching before you run.” She paused. “By the way, Trevor took me to the Run last night.”

  “I know.”

  “How do you know?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Oh, of course, Trevor said you had your people all over the castle.” Her gaze fastened on the sketch. “It must be difficult having to lease out this place. I grew up in the streets, and there’s never been a place I could really call mine. But for a few minutes last night I could imagine what it must be like.” She raised her eyes from the pad. “I believe Trevor could too. That’s why he likes the Run so much.”

  He shrugged. “Then he’d better enjoy it while he can. I’m taking it back.”

  “How?”

  “Any way I can.”

  “But Trevor said your family couldn’t afford not to rent out the place.”

  “Then that’s the way to get it back, isn’t it?”

  “With Cira’s gold?”

  “The gold seems to be the goal for all of us. Why should I be any different?”

  “Then that’s why you’re concerned about Grozak?”

  “What did Trevor say?”

  “He said to ask you.”

  He smiled faintly. “I’m glad he kept his word.”

  “I’m not. I want to know how you’re involved. Is it just the gold?”

  He didn’t answer directly. “The gold should be enough to motivate any man, especially a man who needs money as desperately as I do.” His gaze went beyond her shoulder. “Here comes Jock.” He made a face. “Try to refrain from calling me names while he’s around. It will be healthier for all of us.”

  She turned to see the boy coming toward them. He was smiling and there was a hint of eagerness in his expression. Lord, that face . . . She automatically turned the page of her sketchbook. “Good morning, Jock. Did you sleep well?”

  “No. I have dreams. Do you have dreams, Jane?”

  “Sometimes.” She began to sketch. Could she catch the haunted expression that lingered behind that smile? And did she want to? The vulnerability of the boy was almost tangible, and capturing it seemed an intrusion. “Bad dreams?”

  “Not as bad as they were.” He was looking at MacDuff, and the devotion in his expression made her shake her head in amazement. “They’re getting better, sir. Honestly.”

  “They’d better be,” MacDuff said gruffly. “I told you it’s only a question of will. Use it.” He sat down on the rim of the fountain. “Now stop yammering at me and let the woman sketch you.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jock looked at Jane. “What do I do?”

  “Nothing.” She looked down at the pad. “Be natural. Talk to me. Tell me about your flowers. . . .”

 
Good morning,” Jane said as she carried a tray into Mario’s study. “How are you today?” She shook her head as she saw the pile of papers on his desk. “I’d say you either worked late or started early. Whichever it is, you can use a break for a cup of coffee and some toast.”

  He nodded. “Thank you. Actually, I didn’t get much sleep last night and I’ve probably had too much coffee already.” He reached for the carafe. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to have some more.”

  She studied him. “You’re wired.”

  “It’s getting interesting again.” He took a drink of his coffee. “There are hours and hours of just painstaking deciphering and then it starts to open up for me.” He smiled eagerly. “Like the curtain swinging open in a theater when the play begins. Exciting . . .”

  “I can see it is.” She went to her chair in the corner and sat down. “But you’ve been translating too much Cira if you’re starting to do comparisons with theaters and plays.”

  He glanced at the statue by the window. “There’s never too much Cira.” He looked down at the photocopy on the desk in front of him. “I have to call Trevor. I believe I may have found a reference he’s looking for.”

  “Ah, the gold?”

  “Yes, anything to do with the gold.” He frowned. “No, I’ll wait until the final translation. I have to check over the inserts I had to make. I have to make sure that—”

  “Mail call.” Trevor stood in the doorway with a small package and two letters in his hands. “For you, Mario. Just arrived by special messenger.” He came toward the desk. “Who do you know in Lucerne?”

  Trevor’s tone was without expression, but Jane was suddenly aware of an underlying tenseness in his demeanor.

  “Lucerne?” Mario’s gaze focused on the mail Trevor had placed before him. “For me?”

  “That’s what I said.” Trevor’s lips tightened. “Open it.”

  A chill went through Jane. She knew how careful Trevor was with all aspects of security. She didn’t like this. There was something wrong. “Have you checked it?”

  “Of course I’ve checked it.” He never took his gaze off Mario. “No bombs. No powder.”

  “Then why are you—” She broke off as she watched Mario open the letter and start to read it.

  “Or maybe there was a bomb,” Trevor murmured.

  She knew what he meant. Bewilderment and then horror froze Mario’s expression as his gaze flew across the page. “What’s wrong, Mario?”

  “Everything.” He lifted his eyes. “Everything. How could you do this? Why didn’t you give me the other letters, Trevor?”

  “What letters?” Trevor asked.

  “I have to see the tape.” He frantically tore the wrappings off the package and took out a black VHS case. “Where’s a VCR?”

  “The library,” Trevor said. “I’ll go with you and set it up.”

  “No, I’ll go by myself,” he said jerkily. “I don’t want your help.” He ran from the room.

  “What happened?” Jane asked as she got to her feet.

  “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.” He crossed to the desk and picked up the letter.

  Jane frowned. “That’s a breach of privacy.”

  “Sue me.” Trevor was already reading the letter. “I’ve an idea the content’s aimed at me anyway. Mario was— Shit!” He thrust the letter at Jane and headed for the door. “Read it. Son of a bitch . . .”

  Jane looked down at the letter.

  Mario,

  Why do you not answer them? They’ve sent you letter after letter and told you what they’ll do to me if you don’t stop what you’re doing. Surely blood is more important than your work. What evil have you become mixed up in that would cause these men to do this to me?

  I don’t want to die. Answer them. Tell them you will stop.

  Your father,

  Eduardo Donato

  Then below the handwritten letter was one typewritten line.

  Since we’re not sure that you’re receiving these letters, our patience is at an end, and we must show both you and Trevor we mean what we say.

  The tape!

  “Christ.” She threw the letter on the desk and flew from the room.

  The door of the library was open and she heard the sound of sobbing as she ran down the hall.

  “Oh, God.”

  The TV screen was blank but Mario was bent double, his shoulders heaving. “Santa Maria. Dear God in heaven.”

  Trevor’s hand gripped his shoulder in comfort. “I’m sorry, Mario.”

  “Don’t touch me.” Mario wrenched away from him. “They butchered him. You let them kill him.” Tears were running down his cheeks. “He was an old man. He worked hard all his life and he deserved to live in peace. He didn’t deserve—” He swallowed. “Dear God, what they did to—” He brushed past Jane as he ran out of the room. She didn’t believe he even saw her.

  Jane stared at the flickering screen. She didn’t want to know the answer but she had to ask. “What happened to him?”

  “He was beheaded.”

  “What?” Her gaze flew to his face. “Beheaded?”

  “Barbaric, isn’t it?” His lips twisted. “And they threw in all the trimmings, including holding up the old man’s head after the act.”

  She felt sick. It was more than barbaric, it was the act of a monster. Poor Mario. “Grozak?”

  “Not personally. The executioner wore a hood, but he was taller, thinner.”

  She rubbed her temple. It was hard to comprehend when all she could see was the image that Trevor had described. “He said . . . letters?”

  “There were no letters. This was the only letter Mario received since he came to MacDuff’s Run.”

  “Then why would Grozak say—”

  “He wanted to put a spoke in the wheel,” Trevor said harshly. “I needed Mario to translate, and Grozak wanted to stop me or slow me down until he could make a move. If Mario thought I was keeping his father’s ransom letters from him for my own purposes, that would do the trick.”

  “He beheaded that old man without giving anyone a chance to ransom him?”

  “Ransom wasn’t the aim. That would have dragged it out too long, and Grozak doesn’t have that much time. He needed the translating stopped now. This was the quickest and most likely way to do it.”

  “His father . . .” She remembered something Mario had said on the first day she’d arrived at the castle. “But he said he’d told you he had no close relatives. That you’d made it one of the requirements for the job.”

  “It seems he lied. Stupid . . .” For an instant his expression was more agonized than Mario’s had been. “He didn’t give me a chance. I could have—” He flipped open his telephone and pressed a number. “Brenner, I’m in the library. I need you now.” He hung up. “Get out of here, Jane.”

  “Why?”

  “Because as soon as Brenner walks through that door I’m going to start rerunning the tape. I don’t think you want to see it.”

  She stared at him in horror. “Why would you do that?”

  “Between us, Brenner and I have run across most of the hit men who Grozak would deal with. If we look at the tape enough, we may come up with an identity.”

  “How can you sit and watch—” She knew the answer. You could do anything you had to do. But watching and rewatching that tape would be hard even for the most callous person. “It’s necessary?”

  “I’m not letting Grozak get what he wants without paying the price.” He repeated wearily as Brenner came into the room, “Get out of here. I’ll let you know if we come up with anything.”

  She hesitated.

  “You can’t do anything,” Trevor said. “You’ll only get in the way.”

  And he didn’t want her to see that tape. Dear God, she didn’t want to see it either. And he was right, it would serve no purpose. She turned and headed for the door. “I’ll go and see if I can help Mario.”

  She felt numb with horror as she went down the hal
l and started up the stairs. She had known that Grozak was evil, but this took malevolence to a new level. The sheer calculated coldness of the act was stunning. What kind of creature was he?

  Mario wasn’t in the study as she’d expected. No, of course not. He wouldn’t be able to face the work that had been the cause of his father’s death. She knocked on the door of the adjoining bedroom. “Mario?”

  “Go away.”

  She was tempted to do as he said. He probably needed time alone to get over the shock.

  No, she couldn’t leave him to cope with that shock and horror alone. She opened the door. He was sitting in a chair across the room, and the tears were gone but his expression was ravaged. She came into the room. “I won’t stay long. I just want you to know I’m here if you need to talk to someone.”

  “I don’t need you. I don’t need any of you.” He stared at her accusingly. “Did you know about the letters?”

  “There were no other letters,” she said gently. “Grozak wanted you to think there were so that you’d stop work and blame Trevor.”

  He shook his head.

  “It’s true. Grozak’s a terrible man. That’s why Trevor wanted to make sure that he didn’t have a target.”

  “He let them kill my father.”

  “You told me yourself that you told Trevor you had no close living relatives.”

  He looked away from her. “He wouldn’t have given me the job. It was clear what he wanted from the man he hired. And it wasn’t exactly a lie. My mother divorced my father years before she died. He moved to Lucerne and I didn’t see him often.” His voice broke. “But I loved him. I should have taken the trouble to see him more. I was too busy.” He covered his eyes with a shaking hand. “And I let Trevor kill him.”

  “Grozak killed him. Trevor didn’t even know he existed.”

  “The letters.”

  She shouldn’t argue with him. He was upset and grieving. Then she remembered Trevor’s expression in the library. Silence was assent, and she found she couldn’t do that to Trevor. “Listen to me.” She knelt before him and took his hand from his eyes. “Look at me. You’re not being fair, and I won’t let you get away with it. I think Grozak counted on you blaming Trevor. He set you up and you’re falling for it.”