Countdown

by Iris Johansen

  “He cried wolf on himself. . . .”

  “Right. And Reilly has been off their radar for years—there’s no proof he’s even alive.” He made a face. “Except my word about our conversation, and I’m not exactly a reputable character.”

  “And Venable?”

  “He’s a nervous man and doesn’t want to be called before a congressional committee to answer questions after an attack. He’d rather cover his bases. Sabot’s giving him limited authority to save his own ass if anything goes wrong. God, I hate bureaucracy.”

  “And Reilly can’t be found?”

  “Not yet. I’ve been sending Brenner back to the U.S. to try to pick up word about him. That word is that he may be in the Northwest. Brenner followed two false leads but he thinks he may be on to something now.”

  “He has to be found.”

  “I’m doing everything I can, Jane. We’ll find him. Third time lucky.”

  “Luck?”

  “Sorry. But I am what I am. I assure you that I’m not relying on chance this time.” He grimaced. “And, even though it goes against the grain to give up that gold, I’ll do it if I can locate that chest.”

  “It’s a long shot.” She frowned. “And I can’t believe that Grozak would delay his move on the chance of getting Reilly’s support.”

  “It’s either Reilly or an indefinite delay, and Grozak is chomping at the bit after all these years. He wants to be perceived as this mastermind who has the power to shake the world.”

  “But the chance is so slim of that gold showing up.”

  “Grozak doesn’t know that.” He reached in the desk drawer and drew out a velvet pouch. “He’s sure that he’s on the right track.” He tossed the pouch to her. “I sent this to Dupoi with the scrolls and asked him to get an estimate on the age and value.”

  She slowly opened the pouch and poured the contents into her palm. Four gold coins. Her gaze flew to his face. “You found the chest?”

  He shook his head. “No, but I was able to locate these ancient coins and buy them. I figured they’d be a good lure.”

  She stared down in wonder at the face imprinted on the coins. “You’re sure these are from Cira’s time?”

  “The face on the coins is Vespasianus Augustus, the emperor at the time of the eruption. Dupoi had them examined and the estimate was A.D.78. The volcano blew in A.D.79.” He added, “Dupoi authenticated them as coming from Herculaneum. He asked where I’d found them and if there were any more. I told him about the chest.”

  “What?” Then it hit home. “A trap. You deliberately fed him the information. You knew Dupoi would betray you to Grozak.”

  He shrugged. “There was a good chance. The word was out that Grozak was trying to find any and all artifacts connected with Herculaneum. He was asking particularly about artifacts connected with Cira. There had been a lot of buzz about Cira after the story came out four years ago, but I couldn’t figure out why Grozak was interested when he was no collector himself. I didn’t have any idea that he’d taken on a partner.”

  “Reilly.”

  He nodded. “Just a guess, but enough to make me think.”

  “And when you took the scrolls and coins back from Dupoi, Grozak had to go after you to get what he wanted. You had Dupoi set up as a lure and to authenticate the find. And that’s what you planned.” She shook her head. “My God, you’re a devious son of a bitch.”

  “But this time I’m on the side of the angels. That should make you happy.”

  “I’m too scared to be happy about any of this.” She shivered. “And then you went to the CIA?”

  “Not right away.” He grimaced. “I have a problem with all this self-sacrificing bullshit. I decided to verify and do a little soul-searching. There was the possibility that Grozak wouldn’t get his act together this time either. But then Reilly appeared, hovering in the background, and I knew it could happen.” He shrugged. “The opportunity seemed too good not to take advantage of it. I could rid myself of Grozak before he found a way to take me out. I could save the world.” He smiled. “And if I played the game right, I could still end up with the gold. How could I resist?”

  “How indeed?” she murmured. She stared at the envelope containing the videotape. “The ultimate tightrope.”

  His smile faded. “But I didn’t want you to be involved. Believe me, if I could have found a way to lock you up in a nunnery until this was over, I would have done it.”

  “A nunnery?”

  “A bit extreme. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a jealous son of a bitch where you’re concerned.”

  “I’m not going to be locked up anywhere.” She raised her gaze from the envelope. “And I’m not going to have what happened to Mario’s father happen to Eve or Joe.”

  “The first thing I did when I thought there was a possibility of a danger to you was to tell Venable that he had to have twenty-four-hour coverage for both of them.”

  “But you’re not impressed by the CIA’s efficiency.”

  “I told him if anything happened to them that I’d take the CIA out of the loop. As I told you, Grozak is a nervous man.”

  “I’m going to warn them anyway.”

  “As you like.”

  She had another thought. “How are they going to do it? What are the specific targets?”

  “I don’t know. I was lucky to get as much information as I did. I doubt if anyone but Grozak knows all the details.” He took the telephone back from her. “If you’re not going to call Venable, then I’d better do it. I don’t want his men getting in Brenner’s way when he reaches Lucerne.”

  “Brenner said you think you know who the murderer is.”

  “Ralph Wickman. Brenner thinks it’s Tom Rendle. I could be wrong but I don’t believe so. Brenner is going to scout around and see if he can determine if anyone has an idea of his next move.”

  “Any hope?”

  “Very little. But it doesn’t hurt to explore the possibilities. If Wickman is working for Grozak, we have to keep tabs on him.”

  She shuddered. “He must be a horrible man.”

  “Yes. But no more horrible than the man who hired him.” He reached into his desk drawer and drew out two photos. He threw one in front of her. “Grozak.” The face in the photo was that of a man in his forties, not bad looking but nothing extraordinary about him. “If Grozak had to do the job himself, he’d have wielded that sword without a qualm. And enjoyed it.” He tossed the other photo down. “Thomas Reilly.” Reilly was older, somewhere in his fifties, and his features were almost aristocratic, with fine bones, a long nose, and thin, well-shaped lips. “And, in his way, Reilly makes Grozak look angelic in comparison.” He took out his phone. “Do you want to talk to Venable?”

  She got to her feet. “Why should I?”

  “To see if I’ve told you the truth.”

  “You’ve told me the truth.”

  “How do you know?”

  She smiled slightly. “Because you promised you’d never lie to me.”

  “Good God, I believe we have a breakthrough.”

  “And if you wanted to fool Venable, you’re capable of doing it with no problem. I’ve seen you in action.”

  “Now you’ve spoiled it.”

  “Live with it.” She paused. “Who knows about Venable?”

  “No one but Bartlett, Brenner, and MacDuff. Do you think I’d let the whole world know that I was dealing with the CIA? The more people who know, the greater the chance of a leak.”

  “Well, Eve and Joe are going to know it.”

  “Then they’d better be damn discreet about it.”

  “You know they will.” She headed for the door. “Make your call. I have to get back to Mario.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s not going to be allowed to blame you and curl up in a ball and shut out the rest of the world. It’s too important that he finish those scrolls. I’m going to make sure he does it.”

  His brows lifted. “What determination.” />
  “You’re damn right.” She looked him in the eye as she opened the door. “I’m an American, Trevor. No bastard is going to blow up any city, town, or podunk junction in my country. Not if I can help it. You play all the games you like as long as it doesn’t interfere with that. But it’s no game to me. Grozak’s going down.”

  I told you I didn’t want you here,” Mario said as she came into his room. “You have no heart.”

  “But I have a brain and I’m using it. Which is a hell of a lot better than you’re doing.” She sat down in the chair across from him. “I’d like to be gentle and patient with you but there’s no time. I can’t let you go on feeling sorry for yourself. There’s too much work to do.”

  “I don’t work for Trevor anymore.”

  “Okay, then work for yourself. Don’t let that bastard get away with what he did to your father.”

  “It was Trevor’s fault.”

  She studied his expression. “You don’t believe that.” She added deliberately, “And you don’t believe it was the man who beheaded your father that’s responsible.”

  “Of course I do.”

  “No.” Say it. Cruel or not. It had to be said or Mario would continue to hide from the truth. “You think it was your fault. You think you should never have taken the job. Or if you did, you should have told Trevor about your father.”

  “No!”

  “Maybe it’s true, but you’ll have to decide that for yourself. You thought your father wouldn’t be in danger, but were you fooling yourself? I don’t know. All I know is that the man’s dead and you should be ready to avenge him instead of blaming everyone in sight, including yourself.”

  “Get out of here.” His voice broke. “It’s lies.”

  “It’s truth.” She stood up. “And I believe you’re man enough to face it. I’m going into the next room to sit in my corner and look at the statue of Cira and wait for you to come in and start working again.”

  “I won’t come.”

  “You’ll come. Because it’s the right thing to do. There aren’t many things that are right in this mess, but you have the chance to do one of them.” She started for the door. “If you find what Trevor is looking for, those murderers who killed that helpless old man won’t win.”

  “Lies . . .”

  She opened the door. “I’ll be waiting.”

  She was still sitting in the chair in the corner when Mario’s door opened four hours later.

  He stood in the doorway. “You don’t give up, do you?”

  “Not when it’s important. And this couldn’t be more important.”

  “Why? To get Trevor what he wants?”

  “In this case what Trevor wants is what we all should want.” She paused. “And it’s important that you see things clearly for your own sake. Even if it hurts.”

  “Oh, it does.” He came toward her. “Damn you, Jane.” As he drew close to her, she could see his dark eyes glistening with tears. “Damn you.” He fell to his knees in front of her chair and buried his face in her lap. “I’m not ever going to forgive you.”

  “That’s okay.” She gently stroked his hair. She felt an aching maternal tenderness. “Everything will be okay, Mario.”

  “No, it won’t.” He lifted his head, and the desolation in his expression made her ache with sympathy. “Because I’m lying. It’s not you I’m not going to forgive. I . . . killed him, Jane.”

  “No, you didn’t. Grozak killed him.”

  “I should have— Trevor told me there was a threat but I didn’t believe it would affect anyone but me. I was selfish. I didn’t want to believe. I couldn’t imagine anyone doing anything like this.” Tears were running down his cheeks. “And I’m not the one who paid the price. I was an idiot and I should have—”

  “Shh.” Her fingers touched his lips. “You made a mistake and you have to live with it. But the guilt is Grozak’s and you have to accept that too.”

  “It’s hard.” He sat back on his heels and closed his eyes tightly. “I feel like I should be crucified.”

  He was being crucified, she thought. He was blaming himself with the same passion with which he’d earlier blamed Trevor. “Then get busy. Block it out. I felt guilty when my friend Mike was killed. I went through all the scenarios of what I could have done differently that might have saved him. But in the end you have to put it on the back burner and get on with life. It will creep back in the middle of the night sometimes, but the only thing you can do is endure and learn from it.”

  His eyes opened. “I’m being a child. You don’t deserve this.” He forced a smile. “But I’m glad you’re here.”

  “So am I.”

  He shook his head as if to clear it and got to his feet. “Now get out of here. I need to go back to my room and take a shower.” His lips twisted. “Isn’t it strange how instinct tells us that if we get our bodies clean it will somehow cleanse our soul?”

  “Shall I come back?”

  “Not right away. I’ll be down later to talk to Trevor.” His gaze went to the desk. “But I have to get back to work. It’s not going to be easy. I’ll keep remembering why— I may only be able to do a few lines, but it will be a start. What is your phrase? Getting back on the horse that threw you?”

  She nodded.

  “It’s a good phrase.” He turned away. “I feel as if that horse broke all my bones. But he didn’t, and he won’t. Maybe my heart . . . But hearts heal, don’t they?”

  “So I understand.”

  He glanced back at her. “All that wisdom you’ve been spouting and you don’t know the most important thing? I can tell you’re not Italian.”

  It was almost a joke, thank God. The pain was still there, but he was not quite as devastated as he had been. She smiled. “I realize that’s a great handicap.”

  “Yes, it is, but you’re exceptional enough to overcome it.” He paused before he added, “Thank you, Jane.”

  He didn’t wait for a reply before he left the room.

  She slowly rose to her feet. She had gotten what she needed from Mario, but it had been an experience that was painful for both of them. And she had seen something in Mario that last few minutes that had surprised her. It was as if she had witnessed a rebirth or a coming of age or . . .

  She didn’t know. It could be imagination born from the emotional state they’d both gone through today. Personality changes seldom came with such rapidity.

  But changes were rarely initiated by such shock and horror.

  And hadn’t her attitude toward Trevor been clarified by that horror too? Life around her was shifting, moving as Grozak and Reilly pulled the strings.

  It had to stop.

  11

  How is he?” Trevor asked as she came into the library ten minutes later. “Still hating my guts?”

  “No.” She grimaced. “Hating himself. But he’s going to give you what you want. He’s going to go back to translating this evening.”

  “You must have cast a spell.”

  She shook her head. “I told him the truth, but I think he would have come to it anyway if we’d given him a little more time. I believe you’re going to find he’s . . . different.”

  “How?”

  She shrugged. “I’m not sure. But I don’t think I’ll be tempted to call him a ‘nice boy’ anymore. Judge for yourself. He’ll come down to talk to you later.” She changed the subject. “Did you find out anything from Venable about Wickman?”

  “He’s going to get back to me. He sent a man to talk to Eduardo Donato’s sister, and she said she hadn’t seen him since yesterday morning. Eduardo called and told her he was going to take a job acting as a guide for a tourist he met in a coffeehouse.”

  “Did he tell her his name?”

  He shook his head. “He was interrupted in the middle of the conversation and hung up quickly.”

  “Can we get a photo of Wickman from Venable?”

  “In time. So far he hasn’t been able to pull up a record. Wickman seems to be the inv
isible man. But I’ll have Brenner zero in on the coffeehouse and see if he can get us a description from one of the waiters.”

  She went still. “I can do better than that.”

  He understood at once. “No. Not only no, but hell no.”

  “If I can get a good description, I can do a sketch. Since I’ve never seen Wickman, that sketch would tell you what you want to know without question.”

  “Then I’ll have Brenner ask the questions and relate the answers over the phone to you.”

  “It doesn’t work that way. I have to show the sketch to the witness as I’m doing it to get a confirmation on the features.” Her lips tightened. “And I’m not sitting here and waiting for Brenner to waste time trying to pin down the ID when I can do it faster.”

  “It’s not safe for you to go traipsing all over Lucerne. I can keep you secure here.”

  “I’m not going all over Lucerne. I’m going to one café, and presumably you’ll have Brenner there to meet me at the airport. Can you arrange for a helicopter and a private plane in Aberdeen piloted by someone you trust?”

  “I could. I won’t.”

  “Yes, you will. Because you know I’m going anyway.” She turned on her heel. “I’ll go up and pack an overnight case and my sketchbook.”

  “What part of no didn’t you understand?”

  “The part where you gave me orders that go against good sense. Call Brenner and tell him I’m coming, or I’ll find my own way to that café.”

  Mario met Jane as she left her bedroom and was heading for the stairs. He frowned as he glanced at the overnight case she was carrying. “Where are you going?”

  “I have to do a job. I’ll be back tonight or tomorrow.”

  “What kind of job?”

  She was silent a moment, unsure how he would accept the truth. “I’m going to Lucerne to try to do a sketch of your father’s killer, if I can get a good description.”

  “Is that possible?”

  She nodded. “I’m pretty good. I have a knack for it.”