Eight Days to Live

  She pulled out the small Louis Vuitton overnight case.

  Empty.

  No.

  Tucked in an elastic pocket on the side was a small but thick leather book.

  She grabbed it and shoved the suitcase back in the closet. Jewelry box on the lingerie chest.

  Very nice, very expensive costume jewelry. She seemed to be very fond of heavy silver bangles. She lifted the tray. More jewelry.

  And a small chamois pouch pushed to the back of the tray. She opened the strings. Not jewelry. Coins.

  “Jane! Get down here.”

  Jock’s voice.

  She slipped the pouch into her jacket pocket and ran toward the door.

  Jock was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. “I think I heard sirens.”

  Caleb was coming out of the living room. “Get going. Keep watch for them. Start the car.”

  “Right.” Jock was out the door and running down the walk.

  Jane started to follow him.

  Wait.” Caleb grabbed a silk runner from the hall table and draped it over her head and shoulders. “Keep your head down. There are probably a dozen neighbors peering out their windows by now.”

  “It’s a little late. Our fingerprints are probably all over this house.”

  “It’s never too late. We had no idea we’d need gloves when we came here but you have to take precautions where you can.”

  “What about you and Jock?”

  “I’m not worried about anyone remembering me. It’s too late for Jock.”

  No, that’s right, Caleb could change their perceptions, she thought as she ran down the walk.

  But, dammit, Jock was very recognizable. People always remembered that incredibly handsome face.

  “Get in.” Jock’s face was grim as he threw open the passenger seat door for her. “Those sirens aren’t more than a few blocks away.”

  She could hear them herself. Loud, staccato, not like the wailing sirens at home in the U.S.

  “Go south two blocks and make a turn and double back on a parallel street to the subdivision entrance,” Caleb said as he jumped in the backseat. “And keep your lights off.”

  “I’m driving. Stop telling me what to do,” Jock said as he gunned the engine. “Why do you think I haven’t got my headlights on now?”

  More lights were going on in the houses they were passing, Jane noticed tensely.

  The sirens were louder.

  Hurry.

  As Jock made the turn, a dark police car with red lights flashing came into view. Before Jane lost sight of it, she saw the patrol car pull up before Adah’s house.

  “We have time, Jane,” Caleb said quietly. “They’ll have to go inside and verify what’s going on and if there’s actually a crime. And, even if all those peeping Toms stream out into the street and try to talk to the policemen, it will take a few minutes for them to sort out what’s happening.”

  “And we should be out of the subdivision and miles away before they get it together,” Jock added. “I was only worried about getting a little head start.”

  “Very little,” Jane said. But she was relieved to see that they were passing through the stone-framed gates at the entrance of the subdivision. “And it was my fault we cut it so close, so will you both please stop comforting me and get us back to the inn?” She had a sudden thought. “Is the inn still safe?”

  “It should be. But we’ll move tomorrow,” Jock said. “I’ll call Venable and see if he can do anything to smooth over what happened tonight. I don’t have much hope. It won’t be easy for him to come into an ongoing investigation.”

  An ongoing investigation. He sounded like Joe with that phrase. She was suddenly so homesick for Joe and Eve that she ached with it. She didn’t want to be here in this foreign country, where death seemed to be around every corner.

  “You could go to Joe and Eve,” Caleb said softly. “I can find Weismann for you.”

  Her gaze flew to his face. How had he known what she was feeling?

  He shook his head as he realized what she was thinking. “Just common ordinary insight. I’ve always been attuned to you. Now I’ve begun to know you. It’s not exactly comfortable for me.” He added simply, “I don’t like to see you hurting.”

  She studied his expression. He was telling the truth.

  And that truth was having an impact on her that was very disturbing. She tore her gaze away from his. “I’m not going to run back to Joe and Eve. This isn’t their fight.”

  He shrugged. “Well, I tried. It wasn’t the way I wanted it anyway. As I said, it made me uncomfortable.” He turned to Jock. “You’re being very quiet.”

  “I was hoping you’d convince her to go to the Run,” Jock said. “It’s what I want, and it doesn’t matter to me how it’s done. I’ll fade into the background and let you do it.”

  Caleb was silent a moment. “I don’t think you’d ever fade into the background, Gavin.”

  “I’m not going to the Run,” Jane said. “Not yet. Did you find anything in the office, Caleb?”

  “A couple possibilities. You?”

  “I’ve no idea. A book. A pouch.” She leaned wearily back in the seat. She was suddenly feeling exhausted, and the memories of Adah Ziller lying back in that house, memories that she had tried to push away, were here with her again. She had been full of hope and determination earlier that night, and now everything was in confusion and shambles. “They could be worth absolutely nothing. I’ll have to go through them when we get to the inn. I don’t want to think about it now.”

  “Or you could come up with a bonanza,” Caleb said. “I’d bet on you. I’ve always said you have great instincts.”

  Why did those words give her such a sense of pride? In just a few sentences, he’d been able to lighten the depression that was starting to blanket her. It shouldn’t have meant that much to her. It indicated a power she didn’t want to give him.

  “But on the other hand, no one has ever said I’m a particularly good gambler. So you’d better disregard any opinion I might have.”

  Clever. He’d sensed her rejection of his words and immediately set out to dissipate any damage. “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

  He smiled. “I didn’t think so.” He looked out the window. “Then you might as well ignore me entirely until we get back to the inn. Try to rest.”

  WHEN THEY REACHED THE INN, they went directly to Jane’s room.

  Jock handed Jane her key after unlocking her door. “I’ll go to my room and call Venable. I should be back in five or ten minutes.”

  Jane nodded. “Whatever it takes.” She wearily rubbed the back of her neck. “I think we’re going to need him. And ask him if he can trace any Syrian connection between Adah Ziller and Millet. Dammit, I was hoping that we’d get Weismann tonight.”

  “Almost,” Jock said. “Next time.”

  After he left, Jane went to the window and looked down into the hotel grounds. “It’s getting light.” She glanced at Caleb, who was sitting in a chair across the room watching her. “Dawn.” It seemed a long time ago that they’d talked about dawn and how darkness could be a weapon.

  A weapon he hadn’t used. Weismann had been the one using weapons and dispensing ugliness and death. “Before tonight I wasn’t really thinking about Weismann in the same terms as those other monsters in the group. He was an informer, it seemed to make him better somehow. I wasn’t thinking straight. He’s a killer. He’s just as bad. Maybe worse.”

  “Certainly as ruthless. Perhaps not quite as bloody.”

  “Blood.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “You know all about blood, don’t you?”

  “Enough.” He met her eyes. “I know how to take it. I know how to use it to kill. Do you really want to delve into my murky past? If you do, I’ll oblige you. But it’s not a confidence I’d make lightly. There would be a price to pay. Are you prepared to pay it?”

  She couldn’t tear her gaze from his. Why had she started this? She was tired and on an emotion
al edge, and the words had just tumbled out. Her curiosity and fascination with Seth Caleb had always been just been beneath the surface, ready to break free whenever she was with him.

  “Are you?” he repeated softly.

  Heat. That undercurrent of breathless recklessness. The exhilaration of walking too close to the precipice and wanting to plunge off into the unknown.

  Yes. Any price. Just make it worth the cost.

  Don’t say those words. She would regret it.

  Or would she?

  She forced herself to look away. Clear your head. It was only because she was disappointed and depressed because they’d not intercepted Weismann that she’d felt this compulsion. She wasn’t the type of person to indulge in recklessness. “I’m not that interested.”

  “Liar,” he murmured. “You’re as curious about knowing everything about me as I am about you.” He smiled. “I almost had you, didn’t I?”

  “No.” It wasn’t the truth. She had been very close, but to admit it would be a step nearer to that precipice. She changed the subject. “What did you find in the office?”

  He reached in his jacket pocket. “Two first-class airline tickets to Syria, for Adah Ziller and a Harry Norbert.”

  “Norbert?”

  “Weismann wouldn’t have booked under his own name. He probably has a few other phony passports.” He threw the tickets on the table. “The reservations are for tomorrow. But he won’t be using them after what happened tonight.”

  “Anything else?”

  “A couple keys. They were in an envelope with the tickets. They both are to a safety-deposit box at a bank in Zurich, together with account access information for Adah Ziller.”

  “She had a Swiss account?”

  “She had a number of important lovers. Maybe she kept track of letters and valuable memorabilia that might come in handy later.”

  “Blackmail?”

  “Possibly. Or maybe she put something in her deposit box for safekeeping for Weismann. But at least we have a place to start. A Swiss bank. Syria.”

  “That’s a pretty lame start. There are too many holes to fill in.”

  “Not so many. Maybe whatever you turned up might help to fill them.”

  “That would be too lucky.” She pulled out the leather book she’d stuffed in her pocket. “This was tucked in a pocket in her suitcase. It looks like a daytimer or a journal.” She flipped open the pages. “Dammit, it’s not in English.”

  “She was a Syrian.” He stood up and took the leather book and glanced at it. “Arabic.”

  “Can you read it?”

  “No, but I know someone who can. It’s not the first time I’ve had to have her interpret for me. She speaks twelve languages and is very discreet.”

  “But is she close by?”

  “She lives across the border in Switzerland. We’ll stop on our way to Zurich.”

  “We’re going to Zurich? You think we can get into that safety-deposit box?”

  “That’s the least of our problems.”

  It seemed a huge problem to Jane. But it was clearly a necessity with which they’d have to deal.

  “Anything else?” Caleb asked.

  She pulled out the chamois pouch. “This was stuffed in the back of her jewelry box. Most of the jewelry in it was costume. She probably kept the good stuff in a safe.”

  “Or a safety-deposit box.”

  “Well, this was pushed in the back. I don’t believe its jewelry.” She opened the strings and emptied the contents on the table.

  Two coins.

  Small, silver, edges worn and chipped, incredibly old.

  Jane frowned. “What are they?”

  “I may be able to help a little but not much,” Caleb said. “My uncle was a collector, and he left me his collection when he died. But it was never my cup of tea.” He picked up one of the coins. “Old. Coined somewhere in the Middle East about A.D. 5. Pretty common. I saw quite a few in my uncle’s collection. I wouldn’t think it would be worth much.”

  “Maybe that’s why she kept it with her costume jewelry.” She frowned. “But why keep it at all? Even her costume pieces looked as if they were good quality and worth something.”

  He shrugged. “Maybe sentimental value? We’ll have to find out.”

  “If it’s worth finding out. Perhaps I just grabbed the wrong items to—”

  Jock knocked on the door and entered. “Venable said that it was probably too late for him to do anything, but he’d explore the situation. He wasn’t pleased that we hadn’t told him we had a lead on Weismann.” He glanced at the coins on the table. “What are those?”

  “Coins she found in Adah Ziller’s room,” Caleb said. “Very old. Also, we came up with airline tickets to Syria, a safety-deposit box in Zurich, and a leather book that we can’t read because it’s in Arabic. Now you’re completely caught up.”

  “Thank you,” Jock said dryly. “For what it’s worth.” He turned to Jane. “We can’t be sure the police won’t trace us back here. We were a little too visible. I vote for not waiting until later to move. I think we should pack up and get out of here.”

  “So do I.” Jane turned and strode toward the suitcases she’d set against the far wall. “How long will it take us to get to Zurich?”

  “Six hours or so,” Caleb said. “Perhaps a little longer since we have to stop and have Lina translate that book.”

  “Lina? She’s the one who does your translating?”

  “Lina Alsouk. Yes, she’s very good.”

  “But is she fast? Can we get to Zurich before the close of the banking day?”

  “Maybe. We’ll work something out.”

  “That sounds a little too casual to me,” Jane said. “If you’ll recall, I’m on something of a deadline.” She shook her head as she realized what she had said. “Deadline. Dead end. There are so many phrases that have to do with death. They couldn’t be more descriptive, could they?”

  “No,” Jock said. “But not ones I like to use in your case.” He headed for the door. “I’ll pack and meet you downstairs in the lobby. Which car are we using?”

  “The BMW,” Caleb said. “It’s not a rental and can’t be traced.”

  “What?”

  Caleb shrugged. “I’m a hunter. It’s convenient for me to keep a car at several cities in Europe. Paris is one of them. The license-plate numbers are phony, and I have an extra set in the boot.”

  “Then I didn’t need to throw mud on those plates at Adah Ziller’s place,” Jock said dryly.

  “No, but I didn’t have time to tell you at the time,” Caleb said. “We were in a bit of a hurry.”

  “We’re still in a hurry,” Jane said. “I don’t want to have to hang around and wait until the bank opens tomorrow morning.”

  “Then you won’t have to do it. I told you that we’ll work it out,” Caleb said. “I’ll go down and gas up the car for the trip.”

  NINE

  Day Four

  LINA ALSOUK LIVED IN A SMALL picture-postcard cottage in the foothills of the Alps. The scenery was spectacular, the house cozy, and the woman kneeling in the vegetable garden was probably the most beautiful woman Jane had ever seen. Though like the scenery, that beauty was entirely natural and owed nothing to artifice. Lina Alsouk was in her late twenties, with short, dark, curly hair and huge brown eyes that glowed in her thin, tanned face. She had perfect features but wore no makeup and her hair was very simply styled. She was dressed in jeans and a navy sweatshirt that were worn and shabby with use.

  “It’s about time, Caleb,” she said as she wiped her dirty hands on the towel she picked up from the ground beside her. “You tell me to make myself ready, then you take hours to get here.” Her English was perfect, with only a hint of an accent. “You’re taking me for granted. I should have told you to take your business elsewhere.”

  “But I’m such a good customer,” Caleb said as he got out of the car and strolled toward her. “And you never know when you might need a customer lik
e me. How are you, Lina?”

  She shrugged. “Well, enough. And you?”

  “Better than when I last saw you.” He glanced at Jane, who was getting out of the car. “I had a very successful hunt recently.”

  “The man you were hunting when I first met you?” When he nodded, she smiled brilliantly. “That is good. I’m happy for you.” She turned to Jane. “You are Jane MacGuire? Caleb told me about you. I will try to help.”

  “Lina Alsouk, Jane MacGuire,” Caleb waved at Gavin, who was coming toward them. “And this is Jock Gavin.”

  Lina smiled and nodded. “I am pleased to meet any friend of Caleb’s.”

  “Well, he doesn’t exactly consider himself my friend,” Caleb said. “But he’s definitely Jane’s friend.”

  “Yes.” Jock held out his hand to Lina. “May I help you up?”

  She shook her head. “I’m dirty.”

  “So am I.” He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. “It just doesn’t show.” He smiled. “And I like the feel of earth on my hands. I had a garden of my own until recently. Gardening is very healing, isn’t it?” He looked at the rows. “Vegetables. I planted mostly flowers.”

  “I like to make sure I’m totally independent here. I can eat tomatoes; flowers aren’t nearly as digestible.” She tore her gaze away from him and turned to Caleb. “Where is this book I’m supposed to translate?”

  “I have it.” Jane took the leather book out of her purse. “It looks like some kind of journal. I don’t know if any of the information will be pertinent. I think I could make out a few of the dates. Some of the earlier entries appear to be over five years old.”

  “I can’t touch it yet. I have to wash my hands.” She turned toward the front door. “Come in.”

  The interior of the cottage was one huge room with an adjoining kitchen. The furniture was sparse, comfortable, but very simple.

  Lina went to the stainless-steel sink and began to wash her hands. “I’d offer you a cup of tea, but Caleb said you were going to be in a hurry.”

  “We are,” Jane said. “Thank you.” She handed her the towel on the hook by the sink. “I’d appreciate your doing it as quickly as possible.”