Reap the Wind

by Iris Johansen

  This time Hans forced himself not to draw away from Brian’s touch. “I don’t know if I can.”

  “But you’ll try?”

  Hans’s lids opened, and he stared directly into Brian’s eyes. He gave him an angelic smile. “Oh, yes, I’ll try, Brian.”

  19

  Goldbaum called Alex at ten o’clock the next morning.

  “Black damp isn’t a chemical product, it’s a gaseous state. That’s probably why there was a question mark behind it.”

  “Sodium V?”

  “The solution to the question mark. Black damp is an atmosphere in which a flame won’t burn because of an excess of carbon dioxide. V probably stands for vapor. Specially sealed sodium vapor lamps are sometimes used by miners to provide extra-brilliant light and prevent combustion with the gas underground.”

  “Miners.” Alex sat upright in his chair. “My God!”

  “Strike a bell?”

  “Big Ben.” Alex hung up the phone and turned to Caitlin. “I’m an idiot. I was so damn obsessed with that house of Ledford’s that I let it slide right by me.”

  “What?”

  “I couldn’t understand why something kept nagging at me when Goldbaum told me about Ledford’s trip to Turkey. He said he visited a few towns on the Dardanelles coast and went to Istanbul and bought the house on the Street of Swords. I jumped on the house. I should have realized—Truve. Where it all began. Troy.”

  After they left the seaport town of Canakkale, Alex drove parallel to the coast through beautiful fertile countryside, passing small hotels, beaches, and campsites. About twenty-five kilometers from the main road was the turnoff and the sign that read TRUVE 5 KM.

  “Do you think Ledford hid his loot in Troy itself?” Caitlin asked.

  Alex shook his head. “The tunnel.”

  Caitlin’s eyes widened. “Andros’s tunnel?”

  “I remember Ledford used to talk continuously about Lily Andreas’s book and the legends of the Wind Dancer. The book didn’t go into any detail on the legend itself, but it did mention how Andros escaped from Troy by way of the tunnel that led beneath the city to a hill some distance away.”

  “And you think Ledford found the tunnel?”

  Alex nodded. “It fits together. One, he had an obsession about the Wind Dancer and its origin, and two, he ordered special lanterns to be used underground. I think he came here, discovered the tunnel, and thought it would be a perfect hiding place for the stolen art treasures. I believe Ledford persuaded Krakow that the final play should be in Turkey. Then, instead of Istanbul, Ledford set up headquarters here on the coast. It’s only an hour and a half from Istanbul, and Troy’s near a smaller seaport, Canakkale. That was another plus, since they were probably able to move the art treasures more easily by sea than air from Europe.”

  “Then the Argosy may be docked along this coast and not in Istanbul.”

  “I’d bet on it. That must be Troy just ahead.”

  A rush of excitement surged through Caitlin, and she sat up straighter on her seat. Her courses at the Sorbonne had included a study of the actual archaeological ruins of Troy. Nine separate cities were layered on these ruins, but little was known about any of them. The first settlement was judged to have been between 3000 and 2500 B.C. Troy VIIA, dated somewhere in the 1200 B.C.’s, was supposed to be Homer’s palatial city, but this was only conjecture. Troy was as mysterious and shrouded in legend now as it had been when Alexander the Great had visited on his way to conquer the world.

  She was disappointed.

  The mound of Hisarlik on which Troy was situated consisted of little more than piles of earth and stone and gouged trenches overlooking the flat plain leading to the turquoise waters of the Aegean. Two tour busses were parked at the front entrance, and several schoolchildren were clambering up the steps toward the belly of a giant wooden reconstruction of the fabled Trojan horse. From this distance the roofed structure on the horse’s back looked like a child’s playhouse, and the huge horse appeared pitiful rather than impressive. Little trace of Homer’s great city existed in these

  ruins.

  Caitlin turned to Alex. “Have you been here before?”

  Alex shook his head. “I heard it was a disappointment. Sometimes it’s better to keep the vision and avoid the reality.” He pointed to the hills in the distance. “Do you want to flip a coin to decide which haystack has the needle?”

  “Or where on the haystack it’s located,” Caitlin added. “I guess we just search and hope to get lucky. A triangular red rock was supposed to have been somewhere near the entrance.”

  “Which may have crumbled to dust through the centuries. Was the rock mentioned in Lily Andreas’s book?”

  Caitlin nodded.

  “Then that’s the landmark we look for. If Ledford managed to find the tunnel, he had to have used something as a guideline.”

  “If being the operative word.”

  Alex started the jeep and headed past Troy toward the hills to the south.

  They didn’t get lucky.

  They plowed the jeep through thick shrubbery and bounced over roughly rutted back roads for the remainder of the day but saw nothing of the triangular rock or anything else that gave any clue to a tunnel opening. Finally, when it grew too dark to see, they gave up the search and drove back to Istanbul.

  Kemal was lounging on the couch as they entered the cottage. He carelessly tossed aside the pile of computer sheets he had been reading. “You think this sequence will really open the statue, Alex?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Interesting. Not world-shaking, but definitely interesting.” His grin faded as he glanced at Caitlin. “You look weary. Find anything?”

  “Pine trees, mud, rocks, and flies,” Caitlin enumerated.

  “Too bad.”

  “I knew it was a long shot,” Alex said. “Canakkale is the nearest seaport town. We’ll go back tomorrow and scout around to see if we can find any sign of the Argosy and ask some questions at the hotels. Ledford likes his comfort. I don’t think he’d set up permanent living quarters underground.” The phone rang on the table beside him. “That must be Goldbaum. I hope to hell he has something. Nothing else has gone right today.” He picked up the receiver. “Goldbaum?”

  “Who is Goldbaum?”

  Alex’s heart jumped to his throat. “Ledford.”

  Kemal murmured something beneath his breath. Caitlin moved a step closer to the phone.

  “It’s been a long time, Alex. Well, not really, but it seems like a long time. It’s always like that when good friends are parted, isn’t it? I hear the Vasaro bitch is still with you. That’s a mistake, Alex,” he chided. “I thought you realized how irritated I was with her.”

  “How do you know she’s still here?”

  “Why, you were seen together today. Truve is such a pleasant area, isn’t it? So much history . . .” Ledford trailed off and then said briskly, “I really didn’t think you’d zero in on my little cache until I was ready for you, but then you always did manage to surprise me. No matter, you didn’t find anything and you don’t have time now to be a danger to me. The clock’s running out, Alex.”

  Alex ignored the question. “Where are you?”

  “I understand you almost stumbled on me today while you were bouncing around in that jeep. You’ll be glad to know I’ve decided to reward your cleverness with another snippet of information.” He paused. “The business isn’t going to happen at the palace.”

  “What business?”

  “Don’t play dumb, Alex. It annoys me. I’m sure you’ve figured out that the British delegation has to be removed from the scene.”

  “From what scene are they supposed to be removed?”

  “Now, that’s asking too much. Figure it out for yourself.” He chuckled. “If you do, I’ll give you a reward.”

  “What kind of reward?”

  “I’ll kill the Vasaro bitch quickly instead of taking my time. And there’s a very good reason to kill her.” H
is voice lowered to velvet softness. “You see, we’re going into the countdown now, Alex. You’re going to have a decision to make, and I believe you’ll think more clearly if she’s not in the picture.” He paused. “It’s all very exciting, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t find it any more exciting than hunting for game. You’re just something to bag and then be disposed of, Ledford.”

  “You’re lying to yourself as well as to me. You’re looking forward to our coming together as much as I am. Do you know why?”

  “I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  “Because I’m like you. I told you once that you were a combination of medieval knight and Renaissance man. Ask yourself who dominated the Renaissance, Alex. The dark princes, Borgia and Medici.” His tone was almost caressing as he continued. “I knew the first time I met you that you were a prince of darkness. That was why I found you so interesting. It’s only that other deplorable streak of chivalry that’s holding you back. Give it up, Alex.”

  “Screw you.”

  Ledford sighed. “Not yet? Oh, well, I’ve waited quite a while for this moment, Alex. I can wait a little longer.”

  Ledford hung up.

  Alex slammed down the phone.

  Kemal gazed at him inquiringly.

  “It’s not going to happen at the palace. We have to get in touch with Jonathan.”

  “How can you believe Ledford?” Caitlin asked.

  “Because he wanted me to be sure and know about Krakow’s plan. He was disturbed that we were messing around Troy, but he doesn’t care that we know about the assassination attempt.”

  “Why not?” Kemal asked.

  Alex’s brow creased in a thoughtful frown. “Double cross?”

  “Could be.” Kemal nodded. “But before or after the assassination attempt?”

  “I don’t know. It wouldn’t matter either way to Ledford.” He turned to Caitlin. “We’re moving to the Hilton right away. Pack a bag.”

  “In a minute.” Caitlin’s glance was still fastened on the telephone. “Alex . . . how did he know the telephone number?”

  “That’s why we’re moving. The telephone’s still listed under the cottage owner’s name. Goldbaum couldn’t even find out the telephone number, but Ledford knew it.” Alex turned to Kemal. “I want two guards on Caitlin until this conference is over. Can you arrange it?”

  “No problem. I have many acquaintances who are both skillful and unpleasant.” Kemal’s expression was sober as he added, “I won’t fail you again, Alex. I promise nothing will happen to Caitlin.”

  The next morning Alex left Caitlin still asleep in their suite at the Hilton and went to Jonathan’s room on the third floor.

  “Dammit, Jonathan, the embassy lied to you,” Alex said as he strode into the room. “If the assassination attempt isn’t to take place at the palace, then all their preparations and security measures are a fraud.”

  “Or Ledford lied to you. He did it before.” Jonathan dropped down in an easy chair and stretched his legs out before him. “And you said yourself the man is unbalanced.”

  “He didn’t lie to me this time. I know him. And God knows it’s cost us all enough for me to find out how he thinks.”

  “All right, let’s concede that Ledford told you the truth. Then the embassy either doesn’t know or can’t be persuaded to tell us where the meeting is to be held.”

  “Or when.”

  “When?” Jonathan said. “It’s set for three o’clock day after tomorrow.”

  “No, that’s when every newspaper in the world says it’s going to take place,” Alex said. “But if the meeting place has been changed, why should the time be accurate? Why wouldn’t Krakow suggest a secret meeting at an entirely different time and place to protect the members of the conference?” He shook his head. “We can’t be sure of anything.”

  Jonathan rose. “So we go and talk to the embassy again and see if we can twist a few arms?”

  Alex moved toward the door. “It seems the logical initial move.”

  “You’re not going to take Caitlin to the embassy?”

  “No.”

  “She’s not going to be pleased.”

  “Too bad.” As Jonathan continued to gaze at him with no comment, Alex added with sudden fierceness, “Dammit, McMillan told her she was a target and he was right. She’s safer here at the hotel under guard. Am I supposed to drag her all around Istanbul and get her—” He stopped, his eyes widening at a sudden thought. “Christ!”

  Jonathan raised his brows inquiringly.

  Alex shook his head. “It may be nothing. It doesn’t make any sense. I’ll have to think about it.” Alex’s tone was abstracted. “Let’s go.”

  “Who are those sinister characters lurking in the hall?” Chelsea asked as soon as Caitlin opened the door of her room.

  “Kemal’s choice of bodyguards. The one with the scar is Ali, and the one who looks like a warmed-over cadaver is Hamad. Or maybe it’s the other way around.” Caitlin made a face. “I think I’d rather face Ledford than one of them in a dark alley.”

  “After what happened at Vasaro, I somehow doubt that.” Chelsea entered the suite and closed the door. “Jonathan called me and told me you were here. He said to tell you that he and Alex have gone to the embassy and Alex would call you later.”

  Caitlin frowned. “Why the devil didn’t Alex stop by and get me?”

  “Alex thought you’d be pissed.” Chelsea chuckled. “But he said to tell you it was a fact-finding mission, not a foray, and for you to sit tight.” Chelsea moved toward the telephone on the desk across the room. “I just came back from the welfare home and I haven’t had breakfast yet. Do you want anything?”

  “Coffee.” Caitlin dropped into the cane chair by the telephone. “How are the children?”

  “Pretty good.” Chelsea frowned. “Melis is really the only one who’s traumatized. She’s all eyes and raw nerves this morning. I think we’d better get Kemal to visit her again.”

  “Again?”

  “The matron told me he visited her late last night after the children were all settled in the home.”

  Caitlin felt a warm glow of affection when she remembered Kemal’s expression of concern as he had watched Chelsea take Melis from the cottage. “It doesn’t surprise me. He was worried about her when she left.”

  Chelsea punched the buttons for room service. “Well, the matron said it made all the difference in the world. Melis seemed contented and went right off to sleep after Kemal left.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Where is Kemal?”

  Caitlin shook her head. “I have no idea. He left after introducing those guards in the hall. He said he’d check back periodically.”

  “I tell you, they don’t know anything,” Jonathan said as he came out of the undersecretary’s office into the foyer of the embassy where Alex waited. “Simons nearly had a stroke when I broached the possibility of a secret meeting.” He grimaced. “If there is a secret meeting.”

  “Someone has to know about it.” Alex frowned. “Do you know anyone on Cartwright’s staff?”

  Jonathan thought about it. “No, but I know Phillip Peabody, the head of Scotland Yard. He may be able to put me in touch with someone.” Jonathan moved toward the small reception room adjoining the foyer. “I’ll place the call from here. They’ll probably have to call us back at the hotel later anyway, but at least we’ll get things rolling.”

  “Then let’s get to it.” Alex followed Jonathan into the reception room. “For God’s sake, let’s do something right.” As he saw Jonathan’s glance of surprise, he said tersely, “Sorry, I guess I’m on edge.”

  And that edginess had started when the possibility of that bizarre connection had occurred to him, Alex suddenly realized. Since they had left the hotel he had shied away from looking squarely at that possibility, tried to ignore it entirely. Why?

  He slowly sat down in the brass-studded leather chair across the reception room, watching absently as Jonat
han picked up the receiver and started to place his call. Then he deliberately closed out the sound of Jonathan’s voice talking to Scotland Yard, tried to empty himself of his terror for Caitlin, his hatred for Ledford, and the odd reluctance to put this portion of the puzzle together. Emotion always interfered with solving the puzzle, and he couldn’t afford it now. He closed his eyes and began to examine the pieces before him clearly and coldly.

  “We have to leave!”

  Chelsea and Caitlin looked up, startled, as Kemal burst into the suite. His thick, dark curls were tousled and his lips set in a grim line. “It is no longer safe for you here, Caitlin.”

  Caitlin felt a thrill of fear. “What’s happened? Ledford?”

  “Yes, Ali recognized one of Ledford’s men dressed as a hotel waiter.” Kemal pulled Caitlin to her feet. “Where’s Alex?”

  “He went to the embassy.”

  “Damn.” Kemal shrugged. “You’ll have to leave him a note. Tell him we’re going to my place on the Street of the Turban Makers.”

  “I’ll do it.” Chelsea moved across the sitting room to the desk and pulled a sheet of hotel stationery from the desk drawer. She quickly scrawled a few lines. “What’s the address?”

  “He knows where it is. We stopped there once to pick up my guitar. We don’t want to leave any information lying about.” Kemal grabbed Caitlin’s wrist and pulled her toward the door. “Go back to your own suite, Miss Benedict. It’s not safe for you here either.”

  “And how are you going to get her to your place?” Chelsea asked caustically. “You don’t have a car. Are you going to ride her on your bicycle or hire a taxi that can be traced?”

  Kemal frowned. “I will rent a car.”

  “Good idea.” Chelsea picked up the telephone receiver. “I’ll call down to the desk and tell them to have a rental car waiting for us out front.”

  “Us?” Caitlin shook her head. “This isn’t your concern, Chelsea.”

  “She’s right,” Kemal agreed quickly. “You should not run the risk.”

  Chelsea’s lips tightened. “Ledford and his goons are very much my concern. They almost killed my daughter. I’ve been waiting for a chance at that bastard.”