Deadly Intent

by Valerie Parv

  Because it was the way Horvath himself thought. The man had been read like a book and didn’t even know it.

  “What would you have done if Judy had hired you?” Horvath asked.

  “She didn’t.”

  “You seem sure I will.”

  Ryan gave an ingratiating smile. “I was at Sunrise Creek Station when a mob of cattle was brought in that had been reported stolen and the insurance money claimed. The herd comprised every brand under the sun. Big operation. Cops didn’t get half the people involved.”

  Horvath crashed the chair back onto its four legs, some of the color washing out of his face. But he held Ryan’s gaze. “Why should that interest me?”

  “Thought you might have heard about it.”

  “Everybody heard. It was big news.”

  “Cops hauled me in as an accessory,” Ryan said.

  “Were you guilty?”

  “Only of turning a blind eye. They couldn’t pin anything on me.”

  “Did you learn anything about who was behind the operation?” Horvath asked.

  His casual tone didn’t fool Ryan. The real question was how much Ryan knew about Horvath’s part in the scam. “I got to know a few names and faces,” he said lightly. “Didn’t tell the cops everything I knew in case I need a favor sometime.”

  “Like a job?” Horvath’s tone had hardened.

  Ryan shrugged. “A man’s got to eat.”

  Horvath leaned forward. “Play your cards right and you’ll do a lot better than eat. Help with my diamond prospecting, and I’ll see you get a cut.”

  Ryan nodded in apparent satisfaction. “Exactly what I was hoping you’d say, Mr. Horvath.”

  Horvath came around to Ryan’s side of the desk. “There is one more thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  Horvath grabbed Ryan’s T-shirt front and twisted hard enough to tighten the neckline around Ryan’s throat. “If you ever try to blackmail me with anything you think you know, you won’t live long enough to regret it.”

  All but lifted out of the chair, Ryan knew he could have broken Horvath’s stranglehold and had the man flat on his back in the blink of an eye. But he stayed still and made choking noises. Not difficult, since the shirt was knotted against his Adam’s apple.

  Horvath twisted the shirt tighter. “I take it that’s a yes?”

  “Yes, Mr. Horvath,” Ryan forced out as stars fringed his vision. He clawed air.

  Making a sound of disgust, Horvath released his choke hold and Ryan slumped back into the chair, massaging his bruised throat. One more score he’d have to settle with the man very soon, he vowed inwardly.

  “Get your gear together. You can come back to Willundina with me this morning,” Horvath said as if nothing untoward had happened.

  Ryan coughed, his abused throat protesting. “Coffee with Ms. Logan would be good.”

  Horvath’s gaze narrowed. “I already warned you what’ll happen if you get cocky, Smith. The last man who thought he could outsmart me ended up in the belly of a crocodile.”

  Ryan was well aware that Eddy Gilgai, the man Horvath was referring to, had been taken by a crocodile after attacking Blake’s bride-to-be, Jo Francis, who had done her best to save him. Hardly the retribution Horvath was implying. “I won’t forget,” Ryan muttered, meaning it in ways Horvath couldn’t begin to imagine.

  “See that you don’t.”

  Ryan stood up and extended his hand, but the other man ignored it. “Be at my car in half an hour,” he ordered, then walked out of the office.

  Untroubled by the affront, Ryan let his hand drop, allowing himself a slight smile as he massaged his aching throat. What was a little pain when he’d achieved what he wanted? He was glad Horvath had saved him the trouble of disinfecting his hand.

  Chapter 6

  A few days later, Horvath had forgotten or chosen to overlook that Ryan had virtually blackmailed himself into a job. With his creditors breathing down his neck, he probably couldn’t afford the luxury, Ryan decided.

  He’d made himself useful around the property, working his new boss’s cattle when an extra hand was needed, even settling a couple of disputes among the men. Ryan hadn’t been given any special status but they seemed to recognize his natural leadership, deferring to him until the head man, Mick Coghlan, had started showing signs of resentment. Ryan had pulled back at once, not wanting the added complication.

  Horvath had saved him from Coghlan’s attention by taking him along on what he called reconnaissance missions. To Ryan, they were trespassing on Diamond Downs land, pure and simple, but he kept this thought to himself.

  “There’s the entrance to Cotton Tree Gorge,” Horvath pointed out on one such foray. Ryan was driving and Horvath had directed him to pull up in the shade of a huge tropical paperbark tree.

  Ryan crossed his forearms over the steering wheel. “Isn’t that where the rock paintings were found?”

  Horvath’s lip curled into a sneer. “Supposed to be the work of some long-dead race, according to the scientific types Des Logan has allowed to traipse through the caves.”

  “You don’t think the rock art is anything special?”

  “Just because the paintings look like some others found in Egypt or South America doesn’t mean a forgotten race once lived here. More like the ancestors of the present mob. They don’t keep any written records, so it’s all speculation.”

  So much for art theory, Ryan thought. He’d heard Shara Najran’s expert opinion about the Uru people, and she’d convinced him that an ancient race of people had once lived in the region. But he nodded as if in agreement with his new boss. “We’ll never know for sure.”

  Horvath looked satisfied. “Right.”

  Ryan decided to steer the discussion in a more useful direction. “Couldn’t Jack Logan’s diamonds be a load of hot air, too?”

  Horvath shook his head. “I found traces of gem-quality stones in Bowen Creek, close to where Jack’s journal notes say his mine is located.”

  Ryan let his eyebrow lift. “You’ve read his journal?”

  “Only a copy. Judy showed it to me.”

  Like hell she had, Ryan thought. Horvath must have seen the pages in the file he’d arranged to have stolen from Des Logan’s office. Ryan’s spirits rose. If the file contained copies of Jack Logan’s journal entries, what else might be in there? He had to get his hands on the file soon. So far, there hadn’t been an opportunity, but Horvath had boasted of having a date with Judy Logan this evening. Ryan knew he’d get his chance to snoop then.

  He wasn’t worried about doing the deed. If he needed to, he could turn over Horvath’s entire place in a couple of hours without the other man suspecting a thing. If the file was anywhere in the house, Ryan would find it, photograph the contents with the miniature camera he had with him and report the results to Judy by the next morning.

  So why did he feel a familiar ache at the back of his neck, warning him that something wasn’t right?

  He was confident that Horvath didn’t suspect him of anything. The man had called his contact at Sunrise Creek and been told that the police had taken Ryan in as a suspect in the cattle-stealing scam Horvath had also been involved in. Only a few senior officers knew the arrest had been prearranged to preserve Ryan’s cover story.

  Judy was the problem, Ryan concluded. When he’d called to report his progress, she’d told him she planned to go out with Horvath tonight to get him out of the way.

  “Won’t that complicate things?” Ryan had asked, making a conscious effort to relax the hand gripping the phone. The thought of her and Horvath together on a date made him want to snap the instrument in two.

  Her sigh had whispered down the line. “Perhaps, but we’re running out of time. If you don’t get a look at that file soon, Horvath’s creditors will take us down with him.”

  Horvath’s mortgage over the Logan land would be classed as an asset, and would be claimed by his creditors in repayment of Horvath’s debts, Ryan knew. He wished mo
st of his own money wasn’t tied up in his home and business. Borrowing against them would take too long to get the Logans out of trouble. According to Jo Francis, who’d had her money market operator brother check into Horvath’s financial affairs, the Logans had less than a month to find a solution.

  Caught between a rock and a hard place, he’d been forced to agree to Judy’s plan. Not that she’d needed his compliance. He had a feeling he couldn’t have stopped her if he’d tried. Telling himself her headstrong ways were part of her appeal didn’t make him happier about the thought of her spending a minute more than strictly necessary alone with Horvath.

  Ryan dragged his focus back where it belonged. “So you think the lost mine is in Cotton Tree Gorge, boss?”

  “Eddy Gilgai showed me the entrance to a hidden valley opening off the escarpment not far from here. Eddy was sure the mine is located in that valley, between the entrance and the Uru cave.”

  “That’s a big chunk of ground. Pity Eddy couldn’t have been more specific.”

  Horvath opened the car door, letting in a blast of heat. He stepped out and stared up at the rock walls, shading his eyes. “Jack Logan’s journal entry was specific enough, although it would have helped if he’d left a map.”

  Glad to stretch his long legs, Ryan followed suit. “I’ve spent some time in those hills myself. Between us, we shouldn’t have much trouble locating the mine.”

  Horvath was practically salivating when he looked at Ryan, although his eyes narrowed with suspicion. “If you know so much, why haven’t you gone looking for the diamonds on your own account?”

  “Wouldn’t do me any good while they’re on Logan land. They’d probably pay me a reward, but the big money would belong to them.”

  “Whereas when I claim their land in repayment of the mortgage, I cut you in for a much bigger share,” Horvath said. “Glad to see you’ve got your priorities right, Smith.”

  Ryan had, but not in the way Horvath thought. “Do you want to climb up and explore the valley today?” he asked, hoping Horvath had no such plan.

  Horvath consulted his watch. “I have to get back in time for my date tonight. Can’t keep a lady waiting.”

  Ryan’s insides curled but he kept his expression impassive. “What’s she going to think if you take the diamonds out from under her nose?”

  “She is Ms. Logan to you,” Horvath snapped. “Like most women, Judy doesn’t always know what’s best for her.”

  “And you do?”

  “It’s hardly any of your business, Smith, but yes. Once I’m in position to provide for her and her father properly, I’ll marry her and merge our two operations into a cattle spread to rival the big overseas syndicates.”

  “You’ll need good men behind you, Mr. Horvath,” Ryan said in character.

  Horvath relaxed visibly. “Men like you, Smith, who know when to be useful and when to keep their mouths shut. I have a feeling you and I are going to go a long way.”

  Horvath was going only as far as the nearest jail, Ryan thought, although he nodded. “Sure thing, boss. Whatever you say.” For the moment, anyway.

  Judy pulled the first dress that her fingers touched out of the closet. She’d bought the simple forest-green sheath for the funeral of a member of Andy Wandarra’s clan, and the somber style seemed appropriate now. Max would probably prefer more glamour and a lot less dress, but accommodating him was well down her list of concerns.

  Arranging tonight’s date had seemed like a good strategy when she’d broached it with Ryan during a discreet telephone call the night before. Now, faced with the prospect of spending the evening in her neighbor’s company, she wished she’d let Ryan talk her out of it. He’d tried hard enough, but she couldn’t let him take all the risks. Her home and family, not his, were at stake. She wanted to do all she could to put Horvath out of business.

  Resignedly, she lifted her arms and dropped the dress over her head, settling the folds over her hips. With cap sleeves and a heart-shaped neckline, the dress should have made her look as sexy as a lamppost. Instead, the fluid lines managed to hint at curves she hadn’t known she possessed.

  Wonderful. Trying to look as nun-like as possible, she had only made herself more attractive to Max. Maybe there was truth in the saying that some things were better left to the imagination. Hopefully he wasn’t that imaginative.

  Ryan would be a different story. She had no trouble picturing his reaction to her, just as she had no difficulty remembering how he’d responded to her in a T-shirt and wraparound batik skirt.

  Lost in the memory, she was running a finger over her bottom lip when she caught her reflection in the mirror. Ryan wasn’t going to see her in this or any other dress. He’d made his feelings clear, as she’d explained hers. The gulf between them was too wide. However memorable his kisses, she hadn’t changed her mind about staying uninvolved. Ryan might think that an affair would resolve things between them, but what if it left her wanting more? Keeping a safe distance was the best way she knew to control her emotions and her life.

  Yet again, she was dressing for a date that had nothing to do with romance, she thought, thrusting a brush through her hair. The night was too hot for too much makeup, so she settled for applying waterproof mascara and a supposedly bombproof lipstick.

  In theory, she had the easy task, keeping Max occupied while Ryan searched the homestead. But Max was becoming more and more pushy, determined to help her whether she wanted his assistance or not. She hoped she wouldn’t end up fighting him off before the night was over.

  What was Ryan doing now? she wondered as she blotted the lipstick with a tissue. Max was due to call for her at any minute, so the coast was clear at Willundina. She hoped Ryan would be careful. They might not be a good match, but she cared enough not to want anything to happen to him.

  Ryan kept to the shadows as he approached Horvath’s house, having no good explanation for why he was going inside while the boss was away.

  The housekeeper, bless her, was a creature of habit. By now, Ryan knew from his previous observations, she would be settled in her bed-sitting room, glued to her favorite hospital drama, a generous glass of rum and cola at her elbow.

  Raucous laughter came from the bunkhouse behind him where a poker game was in progress. Ryan had fended off an invitation to join them by claiming to be broke. Since he was still an unknown quantity to the men, they hadn’t tried to twist his arm. He hadn’t discouraged the rumor that he was an ex-con, and his efficient handling of himself and a stock-whip had added to his air of toughness. Most of the men kept a respectful distance.

  All but one. The head stockman, Mick Coghlan clearly resented Ryan muscling in on his turf, and Ryan sensed the man was itching for a reason to take him on. So far he’d managed to avoid providing one.

  The laughter and ribald language faded as Ryan skirted a vegetable garden and crossed a fenced-off patch of green lawn in front of the main house. In the distance, a dog barked, answered by the far-off howl of a dingo. He ignored both, focusing his attention on the job at hand.

  As silent as a ghost, he glided past the housekeeper’s window, smiling as he heard her talk back to the set, disputing the lead actor’s medical facts, he gathered.

  Then he was at the French windows leading into Horvath’s office. The room beyond them was in shadow. The doors were locked, but Ryan made short work of the locks with an automated pick known only to him and the operatives of national security organizations. Slipping inside, he closed the doors without latching them, and pulled the drapes across before snapping on a light over the desk.

  Horvath was neat, he’d say that for him. On the desk, a closed laptop computer was surrounded by piles of paper stacked with almost military precision. None of the papers were of any interest to him, a quick check revealed. Ryan sat down at the desk and started on the drawers, memorizing the layout of the contents in each one before working his way through them.

  Cade had given Ryan a fair description of what he was looking for, but
the drawers revealed no trace of the stolen file. He sat back, aware of a sensation of being watched, and looked up into the catlike eyes of a beautiful Asian woman with glossy dark hair flowing around her shoulders. She was dressed in a cerise cheongsam with an embroidered jacket draped over one shoulder.

  “Miss Wong, I wonder what you can tell me,” he mused out loud, and got up.

  The 1950s Tretchikoff print was faded now, the timber frame cracking at the mitered corners. She’d probably hung in this room since the homestead was built, he decided. Miss Wong, as the original painting was called, had graced homes around Australia for fifty years, going in and out of fashion. Currently back in, and worth real money now, even in her tired condition, if Ryan’s memory served.

  Smiling a little, he went to the painting and eased it away from the wall. Right on the money. The picture concealed a wall safe.

  Ryan flexed his fingers. He hadn’t done any safecracking in a long time, but this model looked relatively straightforward, probably installed by Clive Horvath, rather than by Max himself.

  Sure enough, when Ryan removed Miss Wong and propped her on the floor against the wall, he faced a thirty-year-old safe finished in dull black enamel. He tut-tutted to himself about homeowners who’d had these tin boxes embedded in their walls decades before and still thought they made a safe place to keep their valuables. This one wouldn’t even qualify for an insurance rating.

  A crowbar or a good double-handed axe would have hacked through the thing in minutes, but Ryan didn’t want to risk attracting attention. A silent drill would be better still, but the battery-powered model he owned was back at his house in Broome, so drilling was out of the question, too. That left plain old ingenuity.

  Luckily, Horvath hadn’t updated much else in the house after inheriting the place from his father, Ryan noticed, looking around the office. The phone on the desk was the old-fashioned kind, with a cord and a receiver that could be screwed off. The bad guys in old movies would have hidden listening devices inside phones like these, but Ryan had a better use for this one.