Countdown

by Iris Johansen

  “The laird. The earl of Cranought, lord of MacDuff’s Run. John Angus Brodie Niall . . . I forget the other names.” Trevor smiled at the man as he reached them. “Would you care to elaborate, MacDuff?”

  “Not particularly. A name is just a label.” He was staring at Jane. “Who is she? I told you I had to approve anyone you brought to—” His lips tightened as he drew closer. “Dammit, she’s Jane MacGuire. I don’t want her here. It will give Grozak all the more reason to target—”

  “I don’t care if you want her,” Trevor said coldly. “She’s here and she’s going to stay. That’s the end of it. I’m not going to have her in danger just to protect this blasted stack of rock you call home.”

  “Indeed?” MacDuff’s expression didn’t change, but Jane could almost feel the chill he was emitting. “That wasn’t our agreement, Trevor.”

  “Then I’m putting in an addendum.”

  “Which I may choose to ignore. You do what you wish outside these gates, but don’t expect me to—”

  “This argument is stupid,” Jane interrupted. “I won’t be here more than a day or two. And I’m the one who’ll decide whether I’m staying or going.” She stared MacDuff in the eye. “You’re very rude and I’m tired of you both treating me as if I weren’t here.”

  He met her gaze for a moment and then smiled slightly. “Aye, you’re right, I’m an ass and a bore. My apologies. You are most definitely here, and that’s the bone of contention.” His glance shifted to Trevor and his smile disappeared. “I can tolerate two days. After that we renegotiate.” He turned on his heel and strode back across the courtyard.

  “Not exactly welcoming,” she said dryly. “And I’ll be damned if I’ll be a bone of contention for anyone.”

  “I was hoping he’d ignore you like he does the rest of us. I should have known he’d be on the alert. He probably knew I’d brought someone with me the minute we got off the plane.”

  “How?”

  “MacDuff knows everyone in Scotland, and he’s considered something of a folk hero.”

  She grimaced. “He’s no Rob Roy.”

  “No, but he won a gold medal in archery in the Olympics fifteen years ago and then joined the 45 Commando of the Royal Marines and later won a chestful of medals for bravery. It’s a country that still has a healthy respect for a man who handles himself well in battle. Primitive, but true.”

  She raised her brows. “And you don’t?”

  He smiled. “When it doesn’t get in my way. MacDuff can be arrogant as hell on occasion. It’s natural, I guess. He’s the laird, and everyone around here kowtows to him.”

  “That’s true.” Bartlett made a face. “The laird and god. And I’m not sure which one has more sway. His people here won’t do anything I ask of them without his permission.”

  “His people?” Jane asked.

  “MacDuff insisted on providing the guards inside the gates of the castle itself. He may be short on cash, but he still commands the loyalty of his old buddies from his marine days. They’d work for him for zilch if he asked them,” Trevor said. “I let him have his way as long as I had the right to check them out. They’re okay. Tough as hell.”

  “Let him have his way? That doesn’t sound like you. He mentioned Grozak. How much does he know about what’s going on?”

  “As much as he has to know. He has a certain vested interest.”

  “What kind of interest?”

  “You’ll have to ask him. He came to me with an offer and I took it. One of the conditions was that I wouldn’t discuss it with anyone.”

  “And one of the perks was the use of his castle?”

  “For a hefty sum. MacDuff charged me a small fortune but I’d have paid more. I told you, this is an ideal place for my purposes. It was worth a little negotiating.” He took her arm. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to Mario.”

  “I’ll go on and make sure her room is ready.” Bartlett was already climbing the steps. “We may have hot water but Trevor is paranoid about letting strangers into the house, so there’s no maid service. I chose a room and straightened it before I left, but it’s probably dusty now and—”

  “Wait a minute,” Jane interrupted. “You expected me to come here?”

  “Expected?” Bartlett shook his head. “We’d never take you for granted. But Trevor said that it was an option, and I didn’t want you to be uncomfortable.” He opened the door. “You have nothing to wear, but I’ll go to Aberdeen and take care of that first thing tomorrow. In the meantime, I’ll rifle through all of our wardrobes and see what I can find for you.”

  “I’ll go to Aberdeen myself.”

  “No,” Trevor said. “Let Bartlett. It will please him, and he knows a lot about women’s clothes. Three wives gave him a wide education.”

  “Yes, they did,” Bartlett said. “Nice women, all of them. And they were stylish dressers. I won’t disappoint you, Jane.” He disappeared into the castle.

  She turned to Trevor and asked coldly, “You told him it was an option that you’d bring me here?”

  “Do you expect me to deny it? It was always an option. But I honestly hoped l wouldn’t have to do it.”

  “And I most definitely didn’t want to be here.”

  “But here we are.” He opened the door. “So let’s make the best of it.” He added softly, “And it can be a very good best, Jane. We just have to work at it.”

  “The only thing I’m going to work at is making sure this Grozak is the man who killed Mike and finding a way to put a noose around his neck.” She looked around the huge hall. It wasn’t as barren as the exterior of the castle hinted. Carpets warmed the stone floors and a muted, threadbare tapestry hung by the curving staircase. There was another tapestry on the opposite wall. In fact, practically all the walls appeared to be covered with tapestries. “And where is this Mario?”

  “Here I am. Mario Donato, at your service.” A young, dark-haired man was hurrying down the stairs. He was good-looking, rosy-cheeked, and looked as if he was in his early twenties. He was smiling eagerly. “Bartlett told me you were here.” He stopped on the second step, staring at her. “Sweet Jesus, it’s true. You’re Cira.”

  “I’m no such thing. I’m Jane MacGuire.”

  “And I’m a fool,” he said apologetically as he came down to stand before her. “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to offend you. I was just so excited to see you. I’ve been reading the scrolls and looking at Trevor’s statue, and then I came down and saw you standing there and it was as if—” He made a face. “I’m an idiot. You must be sick and tired of people telling you how much you look like that statue.”

  “Yes, I am.” But Mario was young and appealing and he was clearly sorry for that blunder. “But I’m probably more sensitive than I should be about it.” She smiled. “And if you’ve been that immersed in Cira, it’s understandable.”

  “Thank you.” He turned to Trevor. “I’m down to the last four scrolls. I should have the translations for you within a few days.” His dark eyes glittered with excitement. “One of them is another Cira.”

  “Another Cira?” Jane asked. “How many Cira scrolls have you found?”

  “Just one until now.” He smiled. “And her scroll is much more interesting than Julius Precebio’s. She was totally amazing, wasn’t she? She was only seventeen when this was written, born a slave, and still managed to learn to write. That’s more than most high-born women accomplished. Smart, very smart.” He turned back to Trevor. “I kept an eye out for the reference you asked about but there’s nothing yet. Maybe in these other scrolls.”

  “And maybe not,” Trevor said. “Just let me know if something pops up.” He said to Jane, “Why don’t you go along with Mario and let him show you your room? I have to make a few phone calls. Dinner is at six. We take turns with the cooking and cleanup.”

  “Even MacDuff?”

  “No, he doesn’t occupy a room here in the castle. I invited him to stay, but he moved into an apartment over the stable when we to
ok over here. Mario or Bartlett will show you to the dining room. When we moved in, it resembled something from King Arthur’s court, but Bartlett’s managed to make it look almost cozy.” He was heading down the hall. “We’ll let you off kitchen duty for the next couple days. After that, you’re on the roster.”

  “I may not be here more than a couple days,” she called after him. “I didn’t promise you anything, Trevor.”

  He smiled over his shoulder. “But you lit up like a fireworks display when Mario was talking about Cira’s scrolls. I believe I’m safe until you’ve finished your reading.” He opened a paneled door. “And Mario’s not finished with his work yet. He’s very slow and meticulous. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  “He’s right, you know,” Mario said gravely as the door closed behind Trevor. “I’m sometimes overcareful, but it’s a great responsibility. I’m working with photocopies of the actual scrolls, but the translation is very important. They’re part of living history.”

  “And you have to give Trevor what he paid for.”

  His expression clouded. “You’re right to be cynical. I’m taking money for my work but that’s not why I’m here. Do you know how little chance I’d have to do work like this for anyone else? I’m fresh out of graduate school and I don’t have any experience to speak of. I wanted this job. I fought to get it. I wasn’t the only one he was interviewing. I had to do everything from assuring him I had no immediate family to doing a test translation on one of the scrolls. A project like this comes once in a lifetime.”

  “And it may land you in prison.”

  “Trevor promised to protect me and see that that doesn’t happen. It’s worth the risk.” He smiled with an effort. “And having you here makes it that much more exciting. I hope I can convince you that I’m telling the truth when I say that I wouldn’t do it for just the money.”

  “Why does it matter to you?”

  “You’re close to my age. Trevor and the others are . . . different. I get lonely here sometimes. I thought maybe—”

  He was appealing, insecure, and for an instant he reminded her of Mike. What the hell? She was feeling a little insecure herself at the moment, and he was the only one who seemed in the least vulnerable. She smiled. “Trevor is definitely different. And I can see why you’re not best buddies. I’d like to see where you work after dinner. Will you show me?”

  “My privilege.” A luminous smile lit his face. “Trevor told me to take any room I wanted when I came here. I chose the bedroom and study suite where Trevor kept his statue of Cira. It will be wonderful to have you in that same room with her.” He added hurriedly, “Though I’m sure I’ll notice many differences once I see you together.”

  “I hope you will.” She started up the stairs. “Now will you show me my room so that I can get cleaned up?”

  You’re not pleased.” Jock was frowning anxiously, his gaze on MacDuff as he entered the stable. “Is she going to be a problem for you?”

  “Hell, I don’t know.” MacDuff scowled. “And, no, I’m damn well not pleased. She shouldn’t be here.”

  “She’s making you unhappy.” Jock’s gaze went beyond him to the castle. “Do you want her gone?”

  “I told you that I—” He stopped as he realized what Jock meant. If he wasn’t careful, Jock would be figuring a way to get to Jane MacGuire to permanently rid MacDuff of his “problem.” He was usually more careful with his words around Jock, and it was the measure of his annoyance that he’d almost made the mistake of setting the boy off. “I’ll take care of it, Jock. It’s not a serious problem.”

  “She’s making you unhappy.”

  “Not really.” Christ, he didn’t feel like reassuring the boy right now. He was angry and annoyed and wanted to lash out at someone. Suck it up. He’d accepted the responsibility of Jock and this went with the territory. He clapped the boy on the shoulder and spoke slowly and clearly. “She may even be able to help us. It’s Jane MacGuire. You remember I showed you the picture of her on the Internet?”

  Jock thought about it, trying to recall. Then he smiled. “Cira. She looks like Cira. The same as that statue that Trevor brought here.”

  “That’s right.” Distract him. It didn’t take much if Jock wasn’t already focused. “I’m hungry. Is supper ready?”

  Jock frowned uncertainly. “No, did you tell me to fix it?” He headed for the stairs that led to the apartment. “I’m sorry. I’ll get to it right away.”

  “No hurry.”

  “But you’re hungry,” Jock said. “You told me that you were—”

  “I can wait.” He moved after him. “We’ll make it together.”

  “We will?” A brilliant smile lit Jock’s face. “Together? That would be nice.” His smile faded. “But you don’t have to help. Don’t you want to go back to Angus’s place? I don’t want to bother you.”

  “You’re not bothering me. I need a break. What’s quick?”

  “Fresh salmon.” Jock frowned. “Or perhaps a steak. I’ll have to check to make sure what we have.”

  “You do that.”

  Distraction in place. And if MacDuff was lucky, Jane MacGuire would live through the night without any other intervention from him.

  6

  Bartlett was standing at the casement window across the large bedroom when Mario opened the door for Jane a few minutes later. “I was just getting some air in here.” He threw back the thick red velvet drapes and opened the window. “Close them when you come back from dinner. It can get a bit drafty. I hope you don’t find it damp and cold.”

  “Not too bad.” She glanced around the room. It was generally pleasant, with Persian carpets and a secretary and cushioned chair against one wall. Another one of the seemingly never-ending number of faded, threadbare tapestries occupied the wall opposite the bed. But a huge four-poster with drapes that matched the one at the window loomed with intimidating majesty across the room. “I’m supposed to sleep in that?”

  “It will be fine.” Mario chuckled. “I have one in my room too, and I had the same reaction. But the mattress is very comfortable and definitely not from the fourteenth century.”

  She grimaced. “If you say so. I’m a slum kid, and I’m not used to beds that are almost as big as one of the foster homes where I grew up.”

  “But you have your own bathroom,” Bartlett announced proudly, nodding toward a door across the room. “MacDuff’s father converted a few bedrooms to very practical uses.”

  She smiled. “You’re obsessed with the glory of modern plumbing. Not that I’m knocking it. I’m aching to wash up and get rid of some of this travel grime.”

  “Then we’ll leave you.” Mario turned toward the door. “Shall I come to get you and take you down to dinner?”

  “I’m sure I can find—” His expression was so disappointed that she said instead, “That would be very kind of you.”

  “Good.” He gave her another brilliant smile. “But the kindness is yours.” He hurried from the room.

  “I believe he’s smitten,” Bartlett said. “Not that I’m surprised.”

  “He’s not the type of man I’d expect to be working for Trevor. Where did he find him?”

  “Through the university in Naples. Trevor was trying to avoid the scholastic contingent, but after Dupoi double-crossed him, he decided that he’d risk it. Since Grozak was on the radar he couldn’t afford to take a chance on a freelance translator. So he interviewed several brilliant antiquity students before he hired Mario and brought him here under his eye.”

  “He said he had to watch him.” She shook her head. “But I can’t imagine him being a threat.”

  “No, the threat is to Mario. He’d be vulnerable out on his own. Trevor didn’t want to risk him getting his throat cut.”

  “But not enough not to use him.”

  “Mario knew there was a risk. Trevor was honest with him.” He headed for the door. “There are a few items of clothing in the cupboard in the bathroom. If there’s anything else I can do, call m
e. I left my phone number on the card on the secretary. I hope you’ll be comfortable. I did my best.”

  “Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable.”

  He smiled as he opened the door. “I try. Perhaps I’m a little smitten too.” He chuckled as he saw her eyes widen. “Strictly on a platonic basis. You aroused my brotherly protective instincts when I met you when you were only seventeen. I’m afraid they’re still in place. Good thing. My life is much too interesting these days to complicate it. I’ll see you at dinner.”

  After the door closed behind him, she moved over to the window and looked out at the courtyard below. She could see lights across the way. The stable apartment where MacDuff stayed? He was as strange as everything else connected to this place, and she didn’t like Trevor’s silence regarding him. She felt tired and disoriented and everything seemed surreal. What the devil was she doing in this place?

  What was wrong with her? She knew why she was here and what she was doing. Things had just been moving too fast for her to absorb. Donnell’s death, Trevor’s appearance, and being whisked here to this castle far away from everything familiar had unsettled her.

  But she could bring the familiar to her and she would. She crossed to the phone on the bedside table. A few minutes later Eve picked up the phone. Lord, it was good to hear her voice.

  “It’s Jane. I’m sorry I didn’t call you right away. We had to travel a good distance from the airport before we arrived here.”

  “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Then what airport? And where the hell are you?”

  How much to tell her? She’d hedged the last time she’d asked herself that question and she wouldn’t do it again. Eve and Joe meant too much to her to be dishonest with them. “Aberdeen, Scotland, and I’m at a place called MacDuff’s Run.”