Shadow Zone

by Johansen, Iris; Johansen, Iris

  “I remember.” The last time she’d had to dredge up memories had been to recall the details of that horrible night Conner had been murdered. It had been a nightmare. This would be much easier.

  Anything would have been much easier.

  Don’t think about it. Concentrate on the present. “As you know, I can’t just pull it up right away. I need to take a minute and put myself back in the time and place.”

  “We have all the time in the world.”

  “You just told me that’s not true.” She leaned back on the sofa and took a deep breath.

  Think back. See the sights, smell the smells . . .

  They had slipped through the open lab door, leaving behind the voices and shuffling feet in the corridor.

  The heavy wooden door squeaked as it swung closed behind them . . .

  Pungent odors in the lab. Chemical smells . . . Sulfur?

  Their footsteps had echoed on the white-tiled floor. Her shoes had even squeaked a couple of times. And there was a slight buzzing from the fluorescent lights above.

  Those lights . . . one of them flickered. It was all the way to the left, third from the front.

  And with that one detail, the entire room suddenly came into razor-sharp focus.

  She opened her eyes. “Okay. I’m there. What do you need?”

  “Heating and air-conditioning vents?” he said quickly.

  She smiled. “No rush, it’s locked in now. It’s not like it will suddenly evaporate.” She glanced around at the lab in her mind’s eye. “It’s funny, but I don’t see any. Wait. There they are. Surface-mounted slot diffusers. Long narrow strips low on each of the side walls.” Hannah imagined herself turning from the front of the room to the back. “They run the entire length of the room.”

  Kirov shook his head. “Amazing.”

  “What else?”

  “Do the refrigeration cases have temperature readouts?”

  Hannah strained to see the upper right-hand corner of the cases. “Yes. LCD readouts, not illuminated.”

  “Can you see the temperatures?”

  With difficulty, she read the small panels. “Forty-four degrees, forty-four degrees, fifty-one degrees. And that’s all I can make out. I can’t see the ones on the other side of the room from where we were standing.”

  “Okay, what about motion sensors? I didn’t see any, but we should be sure.”

  “None that I can see in the front . . .” Hannah imagined herself turning, her eyes skimming past the lab’s smooth walls. “And none in the back, either. And no visible alarm panels.”

  “Good. And each of the desks has a gas spigot for burners, is that correct?”

  “Yes. With an L-shaped handle to control it.”

  “And I assume there’s some kind of master switch at the front of the room that enables them all.”

  Hannah felt her eyes narrowing to see the front of the room. “There’s a box mounted on the instructor’s table. There’s a slot for a small key. That’s probably it.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Anything else?”

  Kirov shook his head. “No, that’s all I needed. It’s an incredible gift you have, Hannah.”

  She left the lab and focused her attention back on Kirov. “Not really. It’s a trick. It’s nothing compared to true intelligence, imagination, and creativity.”

  “Things you are also blessed with.”

  She shrugged. “I have to work harder at those things, but the satisfactions are much greater.”

  “I could see that.”

  Hannah stood and gestured toward the kitchen. “Would you like some coffee? I think Eugenia bought some terribly strong French roast, and there might be some—”

  “I don’t want any coffee.”

  There was a note in his voice that made her stiffen warily. Her gaze flew to his face.

  “Ask me what I do want,” he said softly.

  She didn’t need to ask. It was there in his expression, the tension of his body. She hadn’t been expecting this. The sexuality had come out of left field. Her chest felt suddenly tight. She could feel the heat scorching her cheeks.

  “Ask me,” he repeated.

  “It’s fairly clear. But all I’m offering is coffee.”

  “Hannah . . .” Kirov took her hand, his thumb gently, sensuously rubbing the palm.

  She felt a flash of heat travel from her palm to the sensitive flesh of her wrist. “Don’t do that.”

  “No?” He stood up and stepped close to her. “It’s time. We both want it.”

  “I don’t do everything I want. I have a mind and will.”

  “A beautiful mind,” he murmured. He moved slowly closer, his hand sliding around to the back of her neck. He kissed her. “A magnificent will.” He kissed her again. “It was the first thing about you that I noticed and admired.” His thumb was rubbing the nape of her neck, and she felt a jolt of sensation with every movement. “But since then, I’ve come to appreciate many other things.” His tongue licked gently at her lower lip. “You have wonderful shoulders. Your breasts are incredible.” His hands slid down to cup her hips. “It’s a turn-on just watching you walk . . . Free, bold, no compromise . . .”

  She was on fire. She couldn’t breathe. “You’re trying to seduce me.”

  “Now that was an obvious statement not worthy of you. Yes. I most certainly am.” His big hands were opening and closing on her buttocks. “I pray I’m succeeding. Am I?”

  This wasn’t smart. Why couldn’t she move away from him?

  Then she did move, but it was toward him. Her lower body arching into him.

  He inhaled sharply, and his fingers dug into her hips, jerking her closer, rotating them against him. “What a wonderful answer. Do you like this?”

  She bit her lower lip to smother a cry. “Dammit, of course I like it.” She was almost panting. “It’s sex. That doesn’t mean I—”

  “Shh.” He kissed her again. “Do you recall I said something to you once. Pomni, ya vsegda ryadom.”

  “ ‘Remember, I’ll always be with you’?” she said shakily. “Funny thing to say to a woman just before bailing on her.”

  “The irony has not been lost on me. Of course, I thought I was going to die at the time. I was speaking in terms of emotions and memory.”

  “Thanks for coming back to clarify.” Dear God, her entire body was readying.

  “Allow me to be more literal this time.” He kissed her again. “I mean it, Hannah.”

  “So I should jump into bed with you?”

  “It would be my most earnest desire.” His hand moved to caress her breasts. “I’ll make it your most earnest desire too. I promise, Hannah.”

  Her breasts were swelling beneath his touch, the muscles of her stomach clenching. Her cheeks were burning with heat. She could feel her resistance eroding. Why was she even trying? This was what she wanted. He was what she wanted.

  “Eugenia told me she won’t be back until this afternoon,” Kirov whispered. “Where’s your bedroom?”

  “Why did Eugenia—” She stiffened as a thought stabbed through the hot haze Kirov had wrapped around her. “But I know why she’d tell you.” She stepped back and pushed him away. “Eugenia is your buddy. She wants you to have everything you want in life. She told me when I asked her to help find you that you were the important one in the equation. So when you decide you want a roll in the sack with me, naturally she’d find a way to help make it happen.”

  “You’re not being reasonable. No one was plotting. Perhaps she did want to give me the opportunity. It wouldn’t surprise me.” He frowned impatiently. “But what difference does it make what Eugenia wants? It’s what we want.”

  “It matters because I don’t want to be manipulated by her or you. You’re both masters of the game, but not with me, Kirov. I’m not having it.”

  “Then you’ll cheat both of us. Why aren’t you having it? You wanted it, dammit.”

  “Yes, I did.” God help her, she still did. She was shakin
g just looking at him. “But you were seducing me, Kirov. You admitted it. And I was letting you do it. Everything that’s still hurting and unresolved between us, and you made it go away.” She jerkily shook her head. “When I go to bed with a man, it will be my will, my decision, and not because I’m ‘seduced’ against my better judgment. I’m not that weak.” Yet she had been within a hair of tossing that damn judgment out the window. “You come in here mumbling romantic Russian phrases and telling me that I mean something to you. Well, I’m not listening.”

  “That’s quite clear,” Kirov said. “And since that’s the case, I’d better take my leave. I’m not . . . myself at the moment.” He turned and strode toward the door. “Which means I’m tempted to drag you down to the floor and make you listen in the most basic way possible. But I’m a civilized man.” He whirled to face her as he reached the door. His face was flushed and his eyes blazing. He didn’t look civilized. He was radiating pure male lust. She had never seen him like that before. “And as a civilized man, I’ll let you have your space and go my way. It’s still going to happen, but you’ve chosen to put both of us through hell until it does. If you want me, call me. I promise I won’t try to seduce you. I’ll let you seduce me. I’ve no qualms about sexual persuasion. I’d enjoy it.” He opened the door. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Hannah.”

  She stared at the door as it closed behind him. Was she an idiot? Lord, she had wanted to go to bed with him. Her body was still swollen, aching. She wanted to run after him and tell him that . . .

  Pride and self-will were all very well, but neither was going to keep her from being in a fever whenever she looked at him from now on.

  She was not an idiot. Whatever relationship she might have with Kirov, it couldn’t begin without absolute honesty and knowing exactly where she intended to go. She had to be true to herself.

  Dammit.

  Bergerac, France

  Gadaire drove down the gravel road that would take him to the long-abandoned vineyard that had belonged to his grandfather. By all accounts, the wine produced there had always been mediocre at best, but his grandfather had been savvy enough to “incentivize”—bribe—the local tour guides to steer their groups of palate-challenged tourists to the main house for tastings. There the gregarious and bosomy servingwomen would seal the deal by taking orders for scores of cases each day. After his grandfather’s death, however, no one had picked up the torch, and the vineyard had become an overgrown eyesore.

  But now, after all these years, it was serving some purpose again.

  Gadaire followed the road around to the rear of the main house. He parked next to the small trailer that housed a roaring power generator. He climbed out of his car and entered the building through a cracked and peeling door.

  Dr. Timothy Hollis called out from across the large concrete-floored storage room. “Mr. Gadaire, good to meet you.”

  Hollis was a thin man with shoulder-length black hair. With loosened tie, rolled-up sleeves, and sweat-stained shirt, he had obviously been working inside for quite a while. Gadaire wondered what his associates at the Louvre would think if they saw their respected curator now.

  Gadaire shook his hand. “Sorry I’m not Anna. I know you’re disappointed. She was tied up with business out of the country. And I trust that the rather spartan work environment hasn’t been too much of an impediment.”

  “It’s been very peaceful. And believe me, I can understand the need for privacy. I’m honored to be given the opportunity to work with such a valuable find.”

  “Even one you can never talk about?”

  Hollis quickly ran his hands through his perspiration-soaked hair. “My findings from this trellis have given us many answers we’ve been looking for. With those answers in mind, I can go out and find other evidence that supports them. I won’t need the trellis once I’ve done that.”

  Gadaire nodded. “It could put you years ahead of Melis Nemid or any other researcher.”

  “Which means more grants and more resources to continue my work. Trust me, it’s very difficult to get Marinth research funding if your name isn’t Melis Nemid. This project may be a secret, but it’s still an amazing opportunity for me.”

  “Good. I’m anxious to see your findings.”

  “You won’t be disappointed.” Hollis motioned for Gadaire to follow him to the other side of the large room. “Let me show you what I’ve been doing here.”

  They walked toward the other end of what was once the winery’s main tasting area. Gadaire looked at several shallow trays, each filled with a different-colored liquid. Next to each were small molded pieces in the same hue.

  “What’s this?”

  “The trellis is missing dozens of pieces of jewels, quartz, and colored glass. It was quite a job to reconstruct it. In some instances, there are enough remaining fragments for me to know exactly what color to replace the missing pieces with. In other cases, I had to look for interactions in the surrounding stone framework.”

  “Are the colors really that important?”

  “Yes. Some figures in the Marinthian language can have a drastically different meaning depending on the color they are written in, so color is crucial.”

  Gadaire glanced at the trays on the floor. “So you used these to fabricate replacement pieces?”

  “Yes, out of polyurethane. I’ve come up with an extremely accurate re-creation.”

  “So where is it?”

  Hollis smiled. “It was made to be viewed outdoors, with the sun shining through it. I thought you should see the full effect.”

  Hollis motioned toward the crumbling double doors that led toward an enclosed patio where tasters had once enjoyed their wine outside. As Gadaire followed him, he saw that the trellis was now suspended between a pair of six-foot platforms. The multicolored panels were now brightly illuminated by the afternoon sun, taking on a breathtaking glow.

  “Incredible, isn’t it?” Hollis looked at Gadaire, then the trellis. “This is exactly how it looked during the final days of Marinth.”

  “Stunning,” Gadaire said. He looked down at the white-tiled patio and caught his breath. “But nothing like that. Oh, my God.”

  Gadaire was staring at the colorful mosaic that the sun and trellis had projected onto the patio. The razor-sharp image and vibrant colors literally left him speechless. He shook his head in amazement.

  Hollis pointed to the projected image. “These were all over Marinth, but this one was special. It was the work of an educator, a scientist, who discovered too late what caused Marinth’s downfall.”

  “But were there specifics?”

  Hollis smiled and knelt beside the projected image. “Right here.” He ran his hands over a small, narrow, green and yellow symbol in one corner of the image. “This is one of my reconstructed pieces which turned out to be the most important part.”

  “What does it mean?”

  Hollis handed Gadaire a sheaf of papers. “My final report. It’s all there. I’ve included high-resolution photographs of the projected image, along with my symbol-by-symbol translation of the message. Melis Nemid herself couldn’t have done a better job for you.”

  Gadaire quickly shuffled through the papers, paying particular attention to the last two pages. He looked up with a start. “You’re absolutely positive about this?”

  “No doubt. It’s exactly what you were looking for, isn’t it?”

  Gadaire let his hands fall to his sides. “This is better than I even dared to dream.”

  “I thought you would be pleased.”

  Gadaire smiled. “You thought correctly. You deserve a handsome bonus, Dr. Hollis.”

  “I wouldn’t refuse one if offered.” He grinned. “Though I would enjoy it much more if it was delivered by the lovely Anna.”

  “She is lovely, isn’t she? And so interested in you. You wouldn’t believe how much in depth we discussed your successful completion of the project.”

  Hollis’s face lit. “Really? What did she say?”

&
nbsp; “I’ve no time to tell you everything.” Gadaire reached into his jacket. “But believe me, she would have loved to deliver this herself.”

  He pulled out a semiautomatic handgun and fired four times into Hollis’s chest.

  Aviva Stadium

  Dublin, Ireland

  Driscoll and Charlie sat inside their van two blocks from the stadium. A game was under way, and the cloudy night sky was ablaze with the arena lights.

  Driscoll chuckled as Charlie unfolded the refrigeration unit schematic. “If you don’t have it down cold by now, we’re in trouble.”

  “Cold? Is that a pun? I have it, don’t you worry. Just a refresher. I just hope your friend was able to upload that virus to the stadium power system.”

  “He said it was taken care of last night, and I believe him. He’s never let me down before.”

  “There’s always a first time.”

  “You’re right about that, son. But if you surround yourself with good people, you increase your odds. I’m more worried about my telephone guy. All automated maintenance alert calls to the service center are supposed to be intercepted and routed to me here. If it doesn’t work, we could find ourselves bumping into the real service team. That could be awkward.”

  “I have a question.” Charlie glanced up from the schematics. “Why on earth did you make this your career? I figure most thieves do it because they’re lazy. But this is harder than any work I’ve done in my life.”

  Driscoll smiled. “I didn’t do it because it was easy. You’re right, it’s hard work. And if you don’t do it right, you’ll spend years of your life in prison.”

  “Then why do it?”

  Driscoll looked out the windshield for a long moment. “When you grow up in Bray like I did, people have a habit of looking down their nose at you. Shop owners, bankers, pretty much everyone. I think in the beginning, it made me feel smarter than them. However much they tried, they couldn’t stop me from taking whatever I wanted. Makes you feel kind of powerful, you know?”

  Charlie nodded. “Yeah.”

  “But you’re not. It’s fun, and you get a bit of a thrill. But in the end, you’re just a parasite, leaching off someone else’s accomplishments. Once you realize that, it’s a hell of a lot less fun.”