The chopper descended.
“Someone called me Christina.”
Derek’s gaze was more intense.
“A man. I don’t understand. Why would I respond to someone calling me Christina?”
“I’ve had enough of this,” Derek said flatly.
“What do you mean?”
“Who told you about her?”
“I still don’t —”
“The CIA?”
“You know someone named Christina?” Sienna asked.
“There’s one way to end this. Describe the balcony.”
“I … ”
“If the nightmare was so vivid, you ought to have seen what you fell from. You’ve made such a drama about this. Describe the balcony.”
Sienna hesitated. She was going to have to guess, but if she made the wrong choice … She remembered the photographs she had seen on the wall of the locked room. One of them had shown a teen-aged Christina on a balcony, leaning against an ornate metal railing, a view of St. Peter’s in the distance. Had the hotel been a favorite?
“It was spacious. There was a black metal railing, very ornate. St. Peter’s was in the distance.”
The helicopter swooped lower, the lights of Derek’s estate enlarging, other lights coming on, illuminating the landing pad.
“You’re playing a game with me!” he said.
“Game?”
“If you think I’m not going to kill you because of some trick you’re —”
“Trick? I don’t —”
“Shut up. Don’t say another word.”
“I dreamed I was on a pony.”
“What?”
“I was a little girl on a pony. The Alps were all around me. But I’ve never been to Switzerland, and I’ve never owned a pony. How could I have felt I was actually riding that pony? I loved that pony. Jesus, am I losing my mind?”
13
“How soon till we get to Nice?” Malone asked.
“An hour.”
Malone peered from the Agency’s jet. The sky was turning gray. It would soon be dawn. “We’re going to need weapons and special equipment.”
Jeb nodded. “Back in February, when you agreed to work for us, I made arrangements to have them ready in case we had to go in.”
“After we land and the jet’s refueled, one of these men will have to fly to Paris.”
“What’s in Paris?”
“Bellasar’s new girlfriend and her father.”
“What are you thinking?”
Malone explained.
Jeb raised his eyebrows.
“When does Bellasar expect Ahmed?” Malone asked.
“Two P.M.”
“That gives us enough time,” Malone said.
“To do what?”
When Malone told him, Jeb raised his eyebrows higher. “Risky.”
“Have you got an alternative?”
“You know I don’t.”
“Then, with or without your help, I intend to try this.”
“Hey, who said I wouldn’t help?”
“But it isn’t going to work if I can’t get into France. I need a passport.”
Jeb reached into his jacket.
Malone looked in amazement as Jeb handed him a passport. “How … ”
“It was with the documents I had delivered at Dulles when we refueled.”
Malone examined his photograph and the name in the passport. “I’m Thomas Corrigan?”
“A pseudonym will come in handy if this doesn’t work.”
“But it is going to work. It has to.”
“Maybe this will encourage you.”
Malone shook his head, puzzled, when he was handed another passport.
The photograph inside was Sienna’s, the name under it Janice Corrigan. “Thank you,” Malone said.
It gave him a reason to hope.
| Go to Contents |
TEN
1
“How do you know these things?” Derek insisted.
Sienna was sprawled in a chair in the library, where Derek had pushed her as soon as they entered.
“What things? I don’t know what you mean. All I did was tell you about a disturbing dream I had.”
“In which you fell from a balcony and you were also riding a pony.”
“No. Not in the same … I woke and drifted off. Several dreams blurred together.”
“What color was the pony?”
Sienna strained to remember the photograph. “It was dark. But it had a white mane.”
“In the Alps, you said.”
“Yes.” Sienna shook her head from side to side. “Why are you doing this? Quit bullying me. If you’re going to punish me, do it. But stop this —”
“How old were you when you had the pony?”
“I didn’t say I had a pony. I said I dreamed about —”
“Damn it, how old were you?”
There had been a handwritten date on the photograph: 1949.
The date on Christina’s birth certificate had been 1939.
“… Ten.”
“And who gave you the pony?”
This is the end, Sienna thought. If I guess wrong … The obvious answer was, “My parents,” but something in Derek’s insistent gaze told her that the question had a trick, that the pony’s relevance was fiercely personal. Why should it matter who gave the pony? Unless …
“My brother.”
Derek shuddered.
“Why am I having these dreams?” Sienna demanded.
Someone knocked on the door.
“Not now!” Derek shouted.
“Do you want me to meet Ahmed at the airport?” Potter’s voice came from behind the door. “Or do you want the guards to bring him?”
“Meet him!”
“But how do you want me to act? Friendly or distant?”
“Whatever you want! Just leave us the hell alone!”
After a pause, footsteps retreated along the outside corridor.
Derek swung toward Sienna. “Who told you about the balcony and the pony?”
“Nobody! They were in my dream!”
“What else did you dream?”
“I was at a carnival.”
“What kind of —”
“A fiesta. In a street. People were in costumes.”
“Where?”
The crowd in the photograph’s background had looked Latin. Sienna remembered another photograph in which a gigantic statue of Christ, His arms outstretched, had loomed on a ridge behind Christina. The only statue like that she knew of was in —
“Rio.”
The city was famous for its carnivals, but Derek didn’t react.
God help me, I guessed wrong. Sienna tensed.
“Rio.” Derek glared.
He’s going to kill me now.
“How Christina loved Rio.” Derek yanked her up from the chair. “Who told you about my sister?”
“Your sister? I didn’t know you have a —”
“Had!”
“Her name was Christina?” Sienna asked.
“She died a long time ago. Are you trying to convince me you’re dreaming about her?”
“I’m not trying to convince you of anything! I never heard of her until you —”
“Do you think I won’t kill you because I’d feel it was like killing my sister?”
“Killing your sister?”
The look in Derek’s eyes was terrifying.
“Did Christina fall from a balcony? Did I dream about how she died?”
Derek shook with anger. “As much as I adored her, she had a way of making me furious. Just as you’re making me furious.”
With a chill, Sienna realized what had happened on the balcony that night. “In the dream, I was pushed.”
Derek raised his hands.
“Please, don’t kill me again,” Sienna whispered.
2
Distraught, Potter watched Nice’s airport enlarge below him as the helicopter descended. He was intentionally earl
y to meet Ahmed. Anything to get away from Derek. To be shouted at. To be treated no better than a servant. When this is over, I’m leaving, Potter thought.
The helicopter set down in its usual far corner of the airport. After getting Ahmed, Potter would return to the estate, and by this time tomorrow, he thought, when the woman is taken care of, when business is settled and I bring Ahmed back to the airport, I’ll keep going. I saved my money. I planned for when Derek would turn against me. Now he’ll find out what it’s like to be on his own.
“We have plenty of time. Refuel it,” Potter told the pilot. He turned to his two guards. “We’ll go into the terminal.”
But instead of moving, they stared past him toward the open hatch, where three men in mechanic’s coveralls leaned in, aiming pistols.
One of the guards almost drew his weapon, but after a further look at the sound suppressors on the pistols, he remained still.
“Think,” one of the armed men said. He was heavy-set, with short blond hair. “Very slowly, using the tips of your fingers, remove your weapons and set them on the floor. Good. If you do this right, nobody’s going to die.”
“Who …?” Potter started to ask.
The man ignored him. A van pulled up next to the helicopter. “Everybody out. You’re taking a ride.”
The guards looked apprehensively at each other.
“Hey, if we’d wanted to, we could have killed you,” the man said. “Play nice and you’ll get out of this alive.” He made a sharp gesture toward the van. “Move.”
The pilot and the guards reluctantly obeyed, but as Potter started to follow, the man said, “Not you.”
“If it’s money you want, I —”
“Sit down. We’ll soon be taking our own ride.”
Seeing the pilot get out of the helicopter and into the van, Potter said, “But who’s going to fly the —”
“I am,” a voice said.
Disturbed by its familiarity, Potter turned toward the pilot’s hatch, where a man with a severely bruised face appeared, but even with the bruises, the face was instantly recognizable. Potter’s stomach contracted.
Malone.
3
Ahmed’s pilot announced they would soon be landing. But not soon enough, Ahmed thought. The four-hour flight from Istanbul had seemed interminable. He didn’t like Bellasar. He didn’t like to travel. Being away from the sounds and smells of home always put him on edge. Whatever Bellasar’s demonstration was, it had better be worth the trouble of coming to see it. If there was one more hint that Bellasar’s affairs were out of control …
Ahmed’s jet set down. Bellasar had promised that passing through customs and immigration would be swift, and encouragingly, that was the case. But when Ahmed emerged from the processing area, neither Bellasar nor Potter was in sight. If this was an indication of how the meeting was going to …
“Mr. Ahmed?”
A heavyset man with short blond hair emerged from the crowd. He wore a suit and looked apologetic as he extended his hand. “I’m Raymond Baker. I’m sorry for the slight delay. Mr. Bellasar sent me to get you.”
“He couldn’t come himself?”
“Unfortunately, he was occupied. He sends his apologies. He’s so determined to make your visit successful that he’s personally taking care of the final details.”
“I’ve not met you before. Why wasn’t Alex Potter sent to meet me?”
“I’m new on the staff. Mr. Potter had some security matters to take care of. He’ll meet us at the helicopter. If you and your escorts” — the man nodded toward the two guards Ahmed had brought with him — “will accompany me. It’s a short flight to Mr. Bellasar’s estate.”
Ahmed hesitated, annoyed that Bellasar had sent an underling to greet him but gratified by the man’s subservient manner. “The sooner this meeting is over, the sooner I’ll be on my way back to Istanbul.”
“In that case, you’ll be pleased that Mr. Bellasar has made arrangements to be certain there won’t be any delays in your return flight. If you’ll follow me … ”
4
Approaching the helicopter, Ahmed couldn’t help frowning when he saw Potter waiting stiffly next to the open hatch. Ahmed had never liked the man’s perpetual disapproving look. His presence turned everything dark around him. Potter didn’t even extend his hand as Ahmed neared him. Typical. I’ll rot before I extend my hand first, Ahmed thought.
As he started to get in, Ahmed blanched when two men in coveralls turned from the helicopter and put a gun in the small of the back of each guard. A van pulled up. Five seconds later, the guards were in the vehicle, the men in coveralls had gotten in with them, and the van was driving away. The speed with which everything had happened was bewildering.
“I couldn’t warn you,” Potter said. He tilted his head toward the interior of the helicopter, where two other men in coveralls pointed weapons at them.
“Inside,” the man who had met Ahmed in the airport said. His right hand was beneath his suit coat, as if ready to draw a pistol at the slightest provocation.
“Who are you? What do you —”
“Shut up and get in the helicopter.”
Pushed inside, Ahmed was searched, buckled roughly into a safety harness, then handcuffed along with Potter to a bar on the side of the fuselage. But as dismaying as all this was, nothing prepared him for what he felt when the pilot turned to look back at him, revealing a face swollen and purple with bruises.
“Welcome to Payback Airlines.”
5
“Potter’s and Ahmed’s bodyguards are handcuffed and having a nice morphine sleep in the back of the van,” Jeb told Malone as he hurried to fasten his copilot’s harness. “Our local contact will drive them to a secluded campground and wait to hear from us.”
“And twenty-four hours from now, if he still hasn’t heard from us?”
“He’ll know everything went to hell and he’ll let them go.”
“But everything won’t go to hell.” Malone’s voice was hoarse with emotion. “Except for Bellasar.”
He radioed the control tower, getting clearance for takeoff. Then he flicked some switches. The rotors started to turn.
“When I was taken to Bellasar’s estate and later when I stole the chopper to escape, I was puzzled by an extra panel of switches I couldn’t account for,” Malone said.
The rotors spun faster.
“I’ve been trying to figure out what they’re for,” Malone said louder, in order to be heard above the engine’s roar. “When the chopper crashed and the gas tank exploded, the blast was greater than it should have been. Finally I think I understand.”
“What are you getting at?”
“It’s just what you’d expect an arms dealer to do. He went after me with four-wheel-drive cars that were actually assault vehicles equipped with machine guns. Why wouldn’t he modify his helicopters the same way?”
“You’re telling me —”
“This thing has retractable weapons. It’s a gun-ship.”
6
“What else did you dream?”
“I can’t concentrate anymore. I need to lie down. I —”
Derek slapped her.
She stumbled back.
“What you need to do is what you’re told. What else did you dream?”
“I can’t remember.”
Derek slapped her harder.
“You promised you’d never hurt me!” she shouted.
“That was before you ran off with —”
“I meant Christina! You promised not to hurt her again. Tomorrow.”
“What?”
“She died tomorrow.”
Derek slapped her a third time. “Tell me how you know so much about —”
“There was a yacht.” Sienna strained to remember more of the photograph.
Derek froze, his hand drawn back to strike her again.
The photograph had shown Christina as a voluptuous adult, wearing a bikini, sunbathing on the deck of a yacht. Behind her, th
e yacht’s name had been stenciled on a life preserver.
“The yacht was called Christina. There were parties and —”
“Always parties! Christina couldn’t get enough parties! Whenever my back was turned … She betrayed me, the same as you did.”
“It had nothing to do with betraying you! I had to try to save my life!”
Derek’s glare remained riveted on her, then wavered, as if her logic had made an impression on him.
“Why does it have to be this way?” Sienna pleaded. “Why can’t we start over?”
Derek studied her.
“Why can’t we forgive each other? Five years ago, we loved each other. Why can’t we go back?” She took a tentative step toward him, holding out a hand to touch him.
“What else did you dream?”
“What?”
“Tell me how you know so much about my sister.”
Sienna’s spirit plummeted.
“The balcony, the pony, the carnival, the yacht, the time and date of … ” Derek’s eyes widened. “Jesus, you saw them.”
“What?”
“You saw them!”
“I don’t know what you’re —”
Derek grabbed the hand she’d extended and yanked her viciously toward the doorway. She struggled to resist, but his strength was too powerful. He flung the door open so hard, it slammed against bookshelves.
“Derek, no, what are you —”
He forced her along the corridor, into the vestibule, and up the curving staircase. As she resisted, his next tug made her lose her balance and drop to her knees. He yanked even harder, dragging her.
The first landing.
The second.
“Stop!” Sienna pleaded.
He kept pulling her.
“Where are you taking me?”
The top floor. Jerking her upright, he reached the door next to his bedroom, pulled a key from his pocket, unlocked the door, and shoved it open. Shadows beckoned.
“No, I don’t want to —”
He shoved her inside, turned on the lights, ignored the portraits on the wall, and forced her toward the urn. “Christina,” he murmured. He spun her toward the wall of photographs. “You have no idea how much I loved her.” He stared at the numerous photos, scanning them, finding the ones he wanted. “There. On the balcony, on the pony, at the carnival, and on the yacht.” He flipped open the scrapbook, turning to the final page. “The time and date when she died. That’s how you knew about my sister! Somehow, you’ve been in here before.”
Burnt Sienna Page 26
