"Good idea."
"We can tell everyone Levy's dead and that Hudson is free and re¬covering nicely in a secured haven. With any luck, the media will for¬get about her in a week or two."
"Very clever. And what about you?"
"Hell, no," Ferguson said grimly. "I told you, she's my number one priority. You can bet I won't forget Emily Hudson."
FIVE
"YOU DID VERY WELL," GARRETT said as he left the cockpit af¬ter the helicopter was airborne. He sat down beside Emily. "The video was just right. Sincere and fragile as hell. Very convincing."
"I didn't mean to appear fragile. I only meant to be as truthful as I could be under the circumstances. I hate lies."
"You are fragile right now. That was no lie." He held up his hand as she opened her lips. "Think about it. Your instinct is to deny it, but you have to admit your weakness if you're going to overcome it."
"Easy to say. Have you ever admitted weakness, Garrett?"
"Once. That's how I know you have to work through it to get strong again."
But he wasn't going to reveal the nature of that weakness, she re¬alized. Well, she had no right to probe when she had no intention of telling him anything more than he had to know right now. "Where are we going?"
"Pakistan. I have some contacts that will keep us below the radar. From there we'll go to Greece." She frowned. "Why?"
"Because I told you that you have to lie low for a while. I have a house in a small village on an island in Greece that would be perfect for you."
"How long?"
"A couple weeks."
She shook her head emphatically. "That's too long."
"You made the choice. That's the deal. You do what I say." He paused. "And you lie low as long as I tell you to do it."
"It's not necessary. I made that video for Ferguson. That's enough."
"Tell me that after you watch the TV coverage and go through all the newspaper stories about your disappearance. You created a stir, and it's going to take time for the ripples to die down." He added, "And it will take time for me to find Staunton. Dardon has only started the pre¬liminary search."
"Someone has to know him. If they met him, they'd remember him. He's a monster."
"And does he look like Frankenstein's monster?" "No."
"Ugly? Threatening?" "Not on the surface."
"Then at the moment he's only a monster to you. To a next-door neighbor he might appear perfectly ordinary."
She supposed he was right, but it seemed impossible supreme evil would not be instantly obvious. "How long will it take?"
He shrugged. "I don't know. All I can promise is that I will find him." He paused. "It would help if you could tell me why Staunton hijacked your trucks. Can you talk about it?"
Blood running from under the truck.
Joel screaming in agony.
"It's okay." Garrett's gaze was fastened on her face. "We'll talk about it later."
"No." Try not to think of anything but the question. She mois¬tened her lips. "They were looking for a hammer. Staunton called it Zelov's hammer. He said there was some kind of Russian artifact hid¬den in the handle. He'd been told it was at that museum. He thought I knew where it was, that I'd hidden it away."
"Did you?"
"God, no. I kept telling him, but he didn't believe me. We didn't see any hammer. I kept telling him. I swore on my father's grave that I didn't know anything about it." Her nails dug into the palms of her hands. "Over and over. I kept telling him. He wouldn't believe me. I kept telling-"
"Emily." He gathered her hands in both of his. "Don't talk. I don't need to know anything more." His voice roughened. "I should have known better than to put you through this. You're nowhere near ready to face it yet."
"I have to face it," she said unevenly. "I can't live with myself if I hide from the truth. I don't have the right. It's just… hard." She drew a shaky breath. "I should have thought of the hammer. God knows, it's always with me. Sometimes I even dream about it. It's the way to catch him, isn't it? He wants Zelov's hammer. He'll be looking for it. If we find it first, then we may be able to set a trap for him. Why didn't I think of that before?"
"I'd say it's understandable that you're not acting with crystal-clear logic at the moment," he said dryly. "You start to shake every time the conversation gets anywhere near Staunton."
"I don't-" But she would be trembling if he wasn't holding her hands, giving her his strength. "It's not because I'm afraid of him."
"I know that. It's because the son of a bitch traumatized you. That's why it's a good idea to let yourself heal for a while, so that you'll be able to function in top form."
"I'd be fine if we could go-"
"No," he said firmly. "I'm not going to chance you shattering ei¬ther before or after we get rid of Staunton. I told you, I got you away from him, and I have pride in my work. You're going to remain fully intact, mentally and physically, for the next hundred years or so."
Her brows rose. "A hundred years?"
"Why not? The world is changing, evolving every second. I believe in the future. Now, you work on treasures of the past and know that a thousand years is only a blink of the eye. We just look at things in a dif¬ferent way." He released her hands. "I'm going to go up to the cockpit and tell Dardon to dump your info about Zelov's hammer into the mix and try to come up with something. Will you be okay?"
"Yes." She watched him turn and leave her. She would be okay, but she would have been better if he'd kept holding her hands. It was terrible to feel this vulnerable and alone when she'd always been strong and inde¬pendent. It would go away. She just had to be patient, and she would be herself again.
But was that true? Would she ever be the Emily Hudson she had been before she had met Staunton?
Yes, dammit, she would not let Staunton twist her soul as he had her emotions. That would be a victory for him, and she would not give him any triumph.
So she needed to start learning to compartmentalize, keep the pain away, and use her mind and memory as weapons in the battle. The next time she talked to Garrett, she had to be prepared. She must not lean on him again.
"SHE'S NOT BEING HELD B Y the CIA," Borg said. "Ferguson just issued a statement that he'd sent her into seclusion to recover from her ordeal."
"Bullshit," Staunton said. "He's trying to save his ass. That bitch wouldn't let anyone send her anywhere. She's flown the coop." He frowned. "Maybe it wasn't the CIA who took her back from me. I was wondering how they suddenly managed to find us after blundering around those mountains for weeks."
"Who else?"
He shrugged. "I've no idea. But someone must know. Whoever raided the camp had to have been given detailed information by some¬one who lives in these mountains. All we have to do is find that infor¬mant and ask him a few questions."
"We may not be welcome in the mountains," Borg said. "It's hard to quiet rumors among the tribes. After what you did to Shafir Ali's men that was-"
"Why, I don't know what you mean." Staunton raised his brows. "It was the CIA who blew up that hut. These mountain tribes stick together. It shouldn't be too hard to fan the flames and make it very uncomfortable for anyone who helped that to happen. We'll get some¬one to point the finger." Staunton smiled. "That's all I need."
Mykala Island, Greece
"IT'S BEAUTIFUL," EMILY WHISPERED. "I don't think I've ever seen a place this beautiful or peaceful."
"It's the light," Garrett said as he helped her out of the helicopter. "The light here in Greece is like pure gold, and it seems particularly brilliant here on Mykala."
It could be the light or the intense blue of the sea surrounding the island or the shimmering white sands. Whatever the components, the overall effect was like being enveloped in a golden haze, Emily thought. "It's such a small village."
"Yes." He smiled. "Mercifully. One priest, two teachers, and one magistrate. We all get along just fine."
"Where is your house?"
Garrett nodded at a w
hite stucco house on the hill that they were passing. "That's mine." He gestured to a larger two-story structure on the beach. "But that's where you'll be staying. That's our Sister Irana's domain."
She stiffened. "Sister? A nun?"
"Well, technically she's no longer a sister. She was a nun serving in a small hospital outside Athens when I met her ten years ago. She saved my life when I washed ashore with three bullet holes in my body." He turned to Dardon. "Go and tell Irana we're coming, will you?"
Dardon nodded and took off down the path.
"A nun?" Emily repeated.
"Not any longer. Irana Povak. She's a full-fledged doctor now, but she was just an intern when I first met her. She was having a crisis of faith, and I didn't help. Anyway, after she decided to leave the order, I set her up in a hospital and convalescent home here on the island. She only takes a limited number of patients because she's busy doing re¬search. But each of them is universally considered hopeless or belongs to the unwanted."
"I won't go there," Emily said. "I'm perfectly healthy, and there are no confessions I want to make to anyone. Not a nun or priest or-"
"No one's asking you to bare your soul," Garrett said roughly. "That would be the worst possible thing for you right now. All I'm asking is that you stay with Irana two days and see if it works out. If you don't like it, I'm only four miles away. A tough customer like you could hike that distance in no time."
"I could come right now." She turned to face him. "Why don't you want me?"
"I do want you. But I want you to heal quickly. The longer it takes you to recover, the longer it will be until we can go after Staunton."
"And this Sister Irana is going to bless me and make everything all right?"
"Irana is just neutral ground. There's nothing neutral about me, and it could get in the way. She's not going to ask anything of you. And she's too smart to think she can solve all the problems of the world." He held out his hand. "You said you'd do what I told you. Two days?"
She hesitated, then ignored his hand and passed him to go down the hill. "If she doesn't try to save my soul. Nothing is going to stop me from killing Staunton."
"Irana believes that only God can save a soul. And if you don't men¬tion lethal intentions, she'll have no reason to be upset." He followed her down the path. "And since you have no desire to confide in-There she is." He waved at a woman who had come out of the hospital. "I didn't think she'd be willing to wait until we came to her."
"What are you up to now, Garrett?" Irana Povak called. "Dardon says that I may be in trouble." Irana was a slim, athletic-looking woman in her late thirties whose dark hair was pulled back in a loose chignon. She was dressed casually in jeans and a loose white shirt.
"Would I do that to you?"
"Yes." Irana's glance shifted to Emily, and her eyes widened with recognition. "Sweet Mary, I am in trouble. Are you crazy, Garrett? The island is going to be crawling with reporters."
"No one knows she's here. Your nurses won't talk. How many pa¬tients do you have right now?"
"Only seven."
"It shouldn't be too much trouble keeping Emily tucked away and out of their sight."
"I don't want to be tucked away," Emily said. "Let's forget about it."
"I could put her in the cottage where we keep contagious cases," Irana said. "No one goes there."
"Fine." He turned back to Emily. "I'll see you in two days unless you call me."
"I won't be hidden away."
"You were willing for me to keep you incognito." "That's different."
He met her gaze. "Yes, it is. But you'll have to work it out with Irana."
Emily's fists clenched as she watched him walk away.
"It will be all right," Irana said quietly. "He must think it's best, or he wouldn't have brought you to me. He's not really abandoning you."
Emily turned to face her. "I didn't want to be dumped on anyone. I can take care of myself."
"But sometimes it's best just to relax and not have to worry about it. You must have been through quite an ordeal." A sudden smile lit her face. "I promise that I won't cosset you or ask you questions."
"Cosset? That's a rather old-fashioned word, isn't it?"
"Yes, Garret gave me a library full of old books when I was trying to learn English. Everything from Shakespeare to Frances Hodgson Burnett. I thought everyone used words like that." She chuckled. "And Garrett never corrected me. Sly devil. It took me a year to weed out all those antiquated phrases. Some I kept because I like the sound of them."
"You speak very good English." It was true. Irana had only a trace of an accent.
"I like the language. It's both difficult and deceptive. I enjoy a chal¬lenge."
Emily's lips lifted in a sardonic smile. "Like having me tossed in your lap?"
"I had a choice. Garrett always gives me a choice." She met Emily's eyes. "I chose you, Emily. Now you must decide if you wish to choose me.
"What would you do if I didn't?"
"Take you back to him. I owe him a great debt, but he sometimes makes mistakes." She tilted her head. "Is this one?"
Emily didn't answer for a moment as she stared at the other woman. Irana wasn't what she had expected from the few words Gar¬rett had spoken about her. There was nothing serene or contemplative or nunlike about her. She was full of life and humor and vitality. Yet Emily could not see her imposing on anyone's space. "It may not be a mistake," she said slowly, and smiled. "Since you promise not to cosset me.
Irana laughed. "Instead, I'll let you read my Jane Austen. There's something very comforting about that time period. Some of the rules were nonsensical, but at least there were rules." She took Emily's elbow and nudged her down the path. "I'll visit you once a day at the cottage, but you'll have to be the one to invite me to stay. I won't intrude. And I think that Garrett is wrong about tucking you away entirely. I'm go¬ing to put you to work. Have you ever done any nursing?" "No."
"Well, then, there are plenty of floors to scrub. It will keep you from brooding, and work is good for the soul."
"Yes, it is." Emily felt a sudden surge of relief. "I've had a job since I was sixteen. I'm not afraid of hard labor."
Irana suddenly frowned. "But you're limping. Can you work?"
"It's only a scratch. I want to work."
"Good, you'll get plenty of it. But I think we'll just take a look at any wounds and have you throw down some antibiotics." She stopped on the path, her gaze going to the horizon. "The sun's going down. There's nothing more lovely than this time of day on the island. There's a kind of golden radiance…"
And there was a radiance about Irana Povak, too, Emily thought as she gazed at her. The bones of her face were bold and well-defined, her lips were wide but beautifully formed. Her deep-set dark eyes shone with spirit, and the few lines that marked her face appeared to reflect strength and endurance rather than age.
Irana glanced back at her. "And Garrett was right to bring you here. This island can heal you if you let it." She started back down the path. "It healed me."
GARRETT WAITED UNTIL THE third day before he called Irana. "How is she?"
"The first day she was uneasy. Then when she realized that no one was going to push her to do something she didn't want to do, she re¬laxed. I put her to work scrubbing floors."
"I wanted her to rest, dammit."
"It's not what she wanted. I have to stop her after working all day and send her back to the cottage. When she gets there, she's tired enough to go to sleep. She wakes up at dawn and comes back to the hospital." She paused. "But she has nightmares, Garrett."
"It would surprise me if she didn't."
"Are you going to tell me what they did to her?"
"No. I don't know much myself. Her friend was tortured to death, and she feels guilty about it. When she's ready, she'll tell me." He added, "Or you. I'm not high on her list of trustworthy people."
"You're wrong. I think she does trust you. You obviously have a bond."
Garrett had a sudden memory of the blood and death that night in Shafir Ali's tent. "Not one you'd appreciate, Irana."
"I don't appreciate a good many of the things you do. Nor do I un¬derstand them. But I believe there's a balance in the universe, and since God created the universe, he must have approved of that balance."
"Your Church would not agree with that philosophy. They would say sin is sin, Irana."
"And the reason I left the order is that I was too willful to accept everything the Church accepts. So that also makes me a sinner, Gar¬rett." She changed the subject. "What do you want me to do about the nightmares? I could give her a sedative to make her sleep deeper. I don't want to do that."
"Neither do I." He thought about it. "Don't do anything. Let's see if they go away naturally."
"Maybe if she'd talk about it."
"No confessional. That would blow your credibility."
"There's a sound reason for the confessional. It's a healing tool." She interrupted him as he started to speak. "But don't worry, I know that I have no right to violate her privacy. How long do you want me to keep her?"
"As long as you can. She's not going to permit it for more than a week or two."
"And then once more into the fray. Poor woman."
"I'll keep her safe."
"I know you will. You're a good man, Garrett." "Only in your eyes."
"True. But I have to trust my own judgment and believe it's not willfulness and vanity. Otherwise, I'd surely be lost. I've given up too much for that belief." She added brusquely, "I'll let you know if there's any change." She hung up.
She has nightmares.
Irana had gone through a nightmare time herself, Garrett thought as he hung up the phone. Not as violent as Emily's weeks of torment, but torment just the same.
"How is Emily?" Dardon asked from the chair behind Garrett. "I take it that she's settled in nicely, since she didn't ask you to pick her up yesterday."
"Settled isn't quite the word. Irana says Emily is literally working her way through the trauma after she found out that Irana was no threat. Once she's recovered, we'll have a whole new situation to face."
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