Countdown

  She sighed. Caught.

  Were you followed?” Reilly asked Chad Norton when he delivered the package to him.

  “No. I was careful, but there wasn’t anyone following and I checked the box out for tracking devices. It’s safe.” Norton was looking at him hopefully, waiting for praise.

  Should he give it to him? Praise or condemnation. It was always a delicate balance with the subjects he kept close to him for daily labor. You would have thought it would be easier, but propinquity had a habit of dulling the command effect. Perhaps a mix in this case. “You took too long. You kept me waiting.”

  Norton stiffened and Reilly could see the panic begin. “I tried to be quick. I was afraid to speed. You told me to be sure and not attract attention.”

  “I didn’t tell you to take half the day.” It was enough, the sting of the whip; now rub in a soothing unguent. He smiled at Norton. “But I’m sure you were only being careful because you wanted to keep me secure. On the whole you did well.”

  He could see the relief in Norton’s expression. “I tried. I always try.” He paused. “Better than Gavin?”

  Reilly’s brows lifted. “Kim’s been talking.”

  Norton shook his head. “She only said that I’d never be as good as— She said Jock Gavin was special to you.”

  “Indeed he was. But you’re special also. So I’ll let you pick up the mail next week.” Reilly waved his hand to dismiss Norton as he turned to the box. “And tell Kim I said to increase your ration tonight.”

  “Thank you.”

  Reilly smiled at the eagerness in the young man’s voice as he heard the door close behind Norton. The extra cocaine ration always brought the pleasure and excitement intended, and he’d never found a suitable substitute. He’d tried several times to use posthypnotic suggestion in combination with various forms of deprivation to make the subjects believe they were being given hard drugs. In some cases the ploy had worked, but the effects were too short-lived to be satisfactory. Pity. It would have been the ultimate power trip to be able to give intense pleasure as well as pain. Like being God.

  But he mustn’t be too disappointed. It was an exhilarating experience to control other human beings as if they were slaves and he the master. It was clear Grozak had no concept of the complicated and difficult methods he used to bring about the desired results. He thought the subjects were weak of mind and will, and in the beginning Reilly had experimented with just that type of personality. But he’d grown bored and exasperated very soon and moved on to test himself with more difficult subjects. That was the reason he’d taken Norton when Jock Gavin had slipped away from him. He’d wanted to prove that he could overcome all resistance, even if Gavin had been a failure.

  Not really a failure, he reminded himself. The boy might have broken down, but his basic conditioning had stayed in place. If it hadn’t, he’d have had Homeland Security and CIA crawling all over Montana and Idaho looking for him. He’d had Grozak monitoring Jock after MacDuff had taken him to Scotland, but he’d gradually begun to feel more comfortable. It was almost worth Jock’s defection to prove how impregnable that basic conditioning was. Jock would die before betraying him. He almost hoped he’d try. It would be a heady victory.

  “Norton said you’d okayed an extra cocaine ration.” Kim Chan stood in the doorway. “You shouldn’t have done it. You were never that soft with Jock.”

  “Jock was different. I had to keep the reins tight. Norton is no problem.” He leaned back in his chair. “And you’ve evidently been undermining his training by comparing him to Jock. It’s okay to voice your displeasure to me, but don’t do it to anyone else.”

  Kim’s cheeks flushed. “It’s true. A little pain and Norton caves. He disgusts me.”

  “But not enough to stop inflicting that pain.” He smiled. “And until you reach that point, don’t come and tell me how to do my job.” His voice lowered to steely softness. “You’ve forgotten. You’re not my partner. You work for me. And if you annoy me too much, I’ll toss you back into that whorehouse in Singapore where I found you.”

  “You won’t do that. You need me.”

  “I need someone like you. You’re not unique. Perhaps if you’d done your job more efficiently, I wouldn’t have lost Jock.”

  “You can’t blame it on me. You’re the one who—” She stopped as she met his gaze. He could see her struggling with her anger and outrage, but she finally backed down as he knew she would. She muttered, “It wasn’t my fault. I had complete control when he was with me.” She turned away. “I’ll give Norton his extra ration, but it’s a mistake.”

  And she realized that she’d made a mistake too, Reilly thought. She’d been arrogant when he’d chosen her, and he’d had to keep that arrogance in check over the years. He’d been tempted to try training her, but that might have destroyed the domination factor in her that was her most valuable asset.

  But she was right: Norton was no Jock Gavin. Though he’d been a brilliant student at the University of Colorado, president of the student council, a star on the basketball team, all of which had given him that touch of youthful arrogance that had made him interesting for a while.

  No longer. Reilly would have to dispose of him soon and get someone else to pique his interest. It was getting increasingly difficult to avoid that boredom. Norton would be no use to him as a suicide bomber, because those subjects had to have a certain initial bitterness and concentrated special training that took months. He’d have to write off the training he’d put into Norton and have Kim give him an overdose when he had a replacement on hand.

  He opened the box and carefully took away the protective plastic wrappings.

  He sighed with pleasure. Beautiful . . .

  Trevor met Jane as she reached the courtyard. “Bartlett said you were going after Mario. Did you talk to him?”

  She shook her head. “But I talked to MacDuff. He told me that you’d made a deal to turn over Reilly to him.”

  “Did he?” He paused. “And what do you think about that?”

  “I don’t care who gets rid of Reilly as long as it’s done. And MacDuff seems to have a good reason for wanting him dead. Reilly has to be a complete slimeball.”

  “I told you that before.”

  “I understood it. I didn’t have an example thrown at me until MacDuff told me about Jock. Reilly is evidently a fit partner for Grozak.” She searched his expression. “MacDuff said you didn’t know about Jock’s connection with Reilly, but I find that hard to believe.”

  “I suspected and I put out feelers to Venable to see if I could confirm it one way or the other. He hasn’t gotten back to me.” He smiled slightly. “And now he doesn’t have to. Jock was brainwashed and trained by Reilly?”

  “And he almost sent him around the bend. He tried to commit suicide.”

  “And that of course made you want to mother the poor lad.” His smile disappeared. “He’s a victim, but a victim who’s a trained killer and unbalanced to boot. Stay away from him, Jane.”

  She shook her head. “Don’t you think I told myself that? It didn’t work. I can’t walk away from him. He was brutalized by that son of a bitch. He deserves help.”

  “Then let MacDuff help him.”

  “He’s doing his best.” She paused. “MacDuff said Jock refuses to remember anything much about Reilly, but he must know a lot. If we could tap that knowledge . . .”

  “MacDuff must have tried like hell to do that.”

  “He did. But maybe it was too soon. Maybe a different person, a fresh approach would do the trick.”

  Trevor swore an oath beneath his breath. “You try to stir up memories and you’re likely to get your neck broken. He’s volatile as hell.”

  “I wouldn’t deliberately hurt Jock.” She thought about it. “But having those memories buried can’t be doing him good either. If I could find a way to make him face reality that wouldn’t make him take a step back—”

  “Dammit, no!”

  “Don’t tell
me no.” She glared at him. “You can’t find the gold and Brenner can’t find Reilly. I’m not going to let Grozak have time enough to get what he wants from Reilly.” She started across the courtyard. “If Jock can help, then I’m going to do my damnedest to get him to talk to me. I don’t want to do it. I’m afraid I’ll damage the progress MacDuff has made with Jock. So you get on the ball and give me a reason to back off from that poor boy.”

  She could feel Trevor’s gaze on her as she entered the castle. She grimaced as she remembered the term she’d used to describe Jock. That “poor boy” had killed a number of people and had almost broken Mario’s neck. Yet she couldn’t think of him with anything but pity.

  Well, she’d better get over it. It was going to take toughness as well as a certain ruthlessness to make Jock remember that horror he’d been through. It was going to hurt her but not nearly as much as it was going to hurt Jock.

  But it had to be done. The stakes were too high for her not to make the attempt.

  Reilly waited two hours after opening the box Norton had brought him to call Grozak. “How are you doing, Grozak? Progress?”

  “Yes,” Grozak said warily. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I’m sitting here staring at an old book on ancient coins that I bought from a dealer in Hong Kong. I’ve been hearing stories about a certain coin and sent to get this book to find out more about it. Did you know that one of the coins Judas took for betraying Christ is rumored to still be in existence? Can you imagine how much that coin would be worth today?”

  “No. I’m not interested.”

  “You should be interested. The coin is said to have been taken to Herculaneum by a captured slave destined to be a gladiator. Did you know Cira had a servant who was once a gladiator? Wouldn’t it have been reasonable for him to put it in her hands for safekeeping? That it might be in that gold chest?”

  “What are you getting at? It’s all a bunch of fables.”

  “Perhaps. But I thought you should know how unhappy I’d be if I had even the slightest chance of obtaining that coin and was cheated out of it. What news of Cira’s chest?”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “And you haven’t been able to rid me of Jock Gavin. That was part of our deal too. He knows too much.”

  “You told me yourself that Gavin might not be a threat, that he wouldn’t be able to remember you.”

  “There’s the slightest chance. I don’t take chances. Find a way to kill him.”

  “Then evidently you’re not all that sure your training is effective.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You have no concept of what I can do.” He paused. “You promised me Jane MacGuire. I’ve been looking at her photograph, and the resemblance to Cira is remarkable. She couldn’t look more like her. To have Jane MacGuire would be like having Cira come to life.”

  “So?”

  “From what you tell me MacGuire is young, smart, and strong-willed. Like Cira. What a challenge for a man of my talent.”

  “You’re going to train her?”

  “It may come down to that, but I hope not. All I want is information. Women are difficult to train. Most of them break before they bend. But this one might be different.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “The gold. It’s all about the gold, isn’t it?”

  “If she knew anything she’d have gone after the gold herself.”

  “She probably knows more than she thinks she does. She’s visited Herculaneum three times in the last four years. She’s been an intimate of Trevor’s. And she’s clearly been completely absorbed by Cira for years. Why not? They’re practically twins.”

  “That doesn’t mean she knows where Cira’s gold is hidden.”

  “It’s worth a shot. Maybe she’s picked up some information she’s not aware of knowing. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve run across facts a subject didn’t remember about himself without my help.”

  “And you can dig it out of her?”

  “I can dredge up everything she ever knew. A clean sweep is dangerous and can end with the subject never being able to function again. But even if she can give me only a hint, a fragment, it’s worth doing.” He paused. “Unless you can save me the trouble by giving me that chest. But I’m sensing a bit too much eagerness in those questions you’re putting to me.”

  “Things aren’t working out as I hoped.” Grozak paused. “What if I get the woman and have to wait awhile to deliver the gold?”

  Reilly’s hand tightened on the phone. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

  “Oh, I’m on the trail,” Grozak said quickly. “I have a few aces up my sleeve. But I might not be able to deliver before the twenty-second. Suppose I give you a cash down payment and deliver the gold after the attack?”

  Good God, did the man think he was a fool? “I don’t care about your cash. I have all the money I could ever need, and if I want more, I only have to send one of my men out to get it. I want Cira’s gold. I want to be able to see it, touch it.”

  “And you will. Later.”

  “You may not be around later. What’s to stop you from reneging after I deliver?”

  “Naturally, I’ll have to go underground for a while after the attack. But I’m not fool enough to try to cheat you. You only have to turn loose one of your zomb—people to hunt me down.”

  Reilly thought about it. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t considered this possibility. When you dealt with men like Grozak, you had to be prepared. “That’s true. I might be willing to accept a delay on the gold if you get me the woman. Only a delay, Grozak.”

  “And you’d still furnish me with the men on the target date?”

  “I’ll work with you. You’ll have your men a few days ahead of the target date. That will give you time to brief them on exactly what to do. But they’ll need a phone call from me to initiate the action. I’ll do that right before the attack if I get the woman.” Time to insert the goad. “If I don’t get the woman, I’ll give Trevor a call and offer him your head on a platter and start negotiations again.”

  “Bluff. He’ll never give you the woman.”

  “He might. Some people would think any woman was expendable when weighed against a Judas coin. Wouldn’t you?”

  “I’m not Trevor.”

  And Reilly was grateful he wasn’t. Trevor was much tougher to deal with and wouldn’t be manipulated like Grozak. “We’ll see. It’s a moot point if you deliver. Let me know when I can expect her and we’ll set up a meeting place.” He hung up the phone.

  Enough pressure?

  Perhaps. If not, he’d apply more.

  He rose to his feet and moved over to the shelves. There were several priceless coins on display from all the ancient worlds. For years he’d gathered all the artifacts he’d been able to get his hands on from Egypt, Herculaneum, and Pompeii, but coins were his passion. Even in those times they’d signified power.

  What an age, he thought. He should have lived then, during that golden period in history. A man could shape his life and the lives of others with ruthless efficiency. It was what he had been born to do. Not that he hadn’t been able to do that in the present day. But then slaves were not only accepted, their owners were admired and respected. Slaves lived and died at their owners’ whims.

  Cira had been born a slave and yet had never been conquered.

  He would have conquered her. He would have found a way to break her, even without the tools he used now. What a subject she would have been, he thought wistfully. To control a woman of that strength would have been totally exhilarating.

  But Jane MacGuire was also strong. He’d read how she trapped that killer who’d been stalking her. Not many women would have risked what she had and managed to pull it off.

  He’d been intrigued and his imagination had been sparked by the resemblance to Cira. Lately he’d been fantasizing about how he was going to interrogate her. Only, Jane MacGuire kept blending together with Cira in his mind
.

  He smiled in sudden amusement as a thought struck him. What better way to dredge her mind and memory than to make her think she was Cira? He must consider that possibility more carefully. . . .

  13

  What are you thinking about, Jock?” Jane’s pencil flew over the sketch pad. “You’re a million miles away.”

  “I was wondering if you were angry with me,” Jock said soberly. “The laird is angry. He said I shouldn’t have tried to protect him from that Mario this morning.”

  “He’s right. Mario was doing nothing wrong and you can’t just go around killing people.” Good God, how simplistic that sounded. “If MacDuff hadn’t stopped you, you’d have done something terrible.”

  “I know that—sometimes.” Jock frowned. “When I think about it. But when I get worried, I can’t think, I just do it.”

  “And you worry about MacDuff.” She looked down at the sketch. “What else do you worry about?”

  He shook his head and didn’t answer.

  Don’t push him. She sketched in silence for a few minutes. “Mario is very sad. It wasn’t MacDuff he wanted to hurt.”

  “That’s what the laird told me. He wants to punish the man who works with—” The last name came out with difficulty. “Reilly.”

  “Yes. And Reilly too. That should please you. Don’t you want Reilly punished?”

  “I don’t want to talk about him.”

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not supposed to talk about him. Not to anyone.”

  A fragment of that damn brainwashing was obviously still in place. “You’re supposed to do anything you want to do.”

  A sudden smile indented his lips. “Except kill Mario.”

  Good God, a flash of bitter humor. For an instant as she met his eyes there was nothing childlike about him. “Except kill anyone innocent of wrongdoing. But no should be able to control your mind or free speech.”

  “Reilly.” Again he struggled to get the name out. “Reilly does.”

  “Then you have to stop him.”

  He shook his head.

  “Why not? You have to hate him.”