Deadlock

by Iris Johansen

  "No, thank you."

  He signaled the bartender for another drink for himself. "When I was reading about you, I was wondering what those bandits did to you. Rape?"

  She didn't answer the question. "I'd like to talk to you about Mikhail Zelov."

  An undecipherable expression flitted across his face. "You came to me to ask about old Guru Mikhail?" "Guru?"

  "That's what my grandfather called him. Stingy, spooky bastard. He tied up all his money in trust funds that couldn't be touched. My father only managed to finally break the will after wasting years in court."

  "Why spooky?"

  "He claimed he was a holy man and could heal the sick and send his enemies to their deaths." He smirked with satisfaction. "That's what we used to break the trusts. Insanity. All those documents and letters were what cooked his goose."

  "That must have made you very happy," Emily said. "But I under¬stand you went through many of his records again just several months ago. Why?"

  He stiffened. "How did you know that?"

  She ignored the question. "Did you find something then that you didn't find before?" "Hell, no."

  He'd mentioned only documents and letters, Emily thought. She made a leap. "I was actually interested in a book he wrote before he left Russia. It was a kind of a guide to living."

  His expression became shuttered. "Oh, that book." He shrugged. "He talked about it." He took a swallow of his whiskey. "I think my grandfather tossed it out with a lot of his father's other effects after the old man died." He looked at Emily. "Why are you prying into the old Guru's stuff? What's it to you?"

  She was ready for that question she knew would come. "My profession is preserving artifacts. The book may be historically im¬portant. It had a connection with Rasputin I understand."

  "Yeah. I think it did. But he didn't think shit about Rasputin." He suddenly frowned. "I told you. The book was tossed. If that's all you wanted to know, you can hit the road."

  "That's not quite all I wanted to know," Emily said. "Why did you go to Moscow five months ago, Mr. Zelov?"

  "That's all." He pushed away from the bar. "Now you're sticking your nose into my business. I wanted to see my family's home, asshole. I wanted to search for my roots."

  "Could we see Mikhail Zelov's letters and journals you spoke about?" Emily asked.

  "I don't give a shit. They're all on record with the court as testi¬mony when we broke the will." He was struggling to get off the stool. "I've had enough of you. You're bad news. I'm going to go back to the tables before you bring me bad luck."

  She was losing him. In another minute he'd be leaving her.

  She reached out her palm that held the black nodule Garrett had given her and grasped the arm of Zelov's jacket. "One more question. Was there a hammer in Mikhail Zelov's effects?"

  "What?" Zelov's cheeks became even ruddier. "That's a stupid question. Why would-Get out. I'm a good customer here. I'll have them toss you out on your ear. I've been patient enough because you looked-Out."

  "I'm going, Mr. Zelov. Thanks for your time." She slipped off the stool and headed for the exit.

  She glanced back over her shoulder as she opened the heavy glass door. Zelov wasn't going back to the tables. He was heading for the French doors leading to the terrace.

  And he was reaching for his cell phone.

  "He's heard about the hammer," Emily said as soon as she reached the car. Excitement was tingling through her. "I know it."

  "From what I heard, I think he has, too." Garrett held the car door open for her. "And we were lucky he was drunk and transparent as glass." He got back into the car and looked at Dardon. "Ready? It should be coming any time now."

  Dardon lifted the headset to his ear. "He's already dialing. He probably had to get somewhere he'd get a clear signal. There's too much electronic interference in casinos."

  "He was heading for the terrace," Emily said. "You're recording him? You can do that from out here?"

  "With the help of that little bug you planted." Garrett nodded. "Piece of cake with the right equipment. I didn't think we'd get much out of him, but I hoped your asking the questions would send him running."

  Dardon nodded. "But we're not getting much. Zelov is in a panic, but the man he's talking to is only impatient, not informative." He lis¬tened a moment, then turned the switch. "That's it. He hung up." He looked at Garrett. "Do you want to stick around and see if he makes any other calls?"

  "No." He started the car and drove down the driveway. "But I want to hear that call, and I want you to start trying to trace it. We'll check into a motel and go over it. Do you have a general location?"

  Dardon nodded. "I think it was somewhere in Russia."

  "That's pinning it down. "

  "Best I can do right now." He looked back down at his board. "That may be the best I can do, period, if the line is as protected as I think. We may have to call in an expert to tap a phone-company database."

  Zelov had called Russia, Emily thought. Who in Russia had reached out tentacles to touch her, touch Zelov, touch Garrett? Deadly tenta¬cles. Even drunk, Zelov had been afraid when she'd mentioned the hammer.

  "Okay?" Garrett asked, glancing at her.

  She nodded. "He was nervous when I was talking about the Book of Living, too. He was lying then."

  Garrett nodded. "I'd be very curious to read what's in that Book of

  Living. It might just lead us where we want to go." He glanced back at Dardon. "Providing Dardon can't point the way."

  "I'm working on it," Dardon muttered. "But I'm no expert. I think we may have to call in Pauley to do his wizardry."

  "Then we'll do it," Garrett said. "But first I want to hear that call. I saw a Holiday Inn about a mile off the freeway…"

  "HERE'S THE DISC." DARDON handed Garrett the black case at the door of his room at the Holiday Inn. "Suppose I work on the lo¬cation a little more before I give it up to Pauley."

  "No, get him now." Garrett unlocked the door and let Emily precede him into the room. "Tell him I want him here tomorrow morning."

  "It will cost you."

  "Everything does," Garrett said. "But it may cost me more to delay."

  "Whatever you say." He turned and strolled down the hall toward his room. "I'm glad to give it up to Pauley. Though you know he's go¬ing to be condescending as hell."

  "Who's Pauley?" Emily asked, as Garrett came in and shut the door.

  "Mark Pauley. He's sort of a techno-wizard in computers and all things electronic. If anyone can pin down the location of Zelov's call, he'll be able to do it. He's the best hacker I've ever known." He glanced around the room. "Set up your computer and we'll play that CD. There's usually a coffeemaker in these rooms, and I could use some cof¬fee. Maybe it's on the bathroom vanity." He went into the bathroom. "Yeah, here it is."

  Emily heard the sound of running water as she opened the laptop and set it on the desk. "It's up. Hurry, dammit."

  "We've got time." He came out of the bathroom a few minutes later and handed her a cup of coffee. "And the call was very short, Dardon said."

  "That doesn't mean we won't learn something from it." She took the disc he handed her and slipped it into the computer. "I want to know now."

  He sat down in the chair at the desk and leaned back. "Then play it."

  She pressed the button.

  A sound of dialing and Zelov's heavy breathing. Then the call was picked up on the other end.

  Russian. She realized they were both speaking in Russian. Disap¬pointment surged through her. "Dammit."

  "You don't speak Russian?"

  "No. You do, don't you?"

  He nodded. "Pretty well."

  He speaks nine languages, Irana had told her.

  She opened the desk drawer and pulled out stationery and a pen. She set it in front of him and stopped the disc. "Write it down. I want every word, every intonation, every pause."

  He smiled. "I'll try to oblige."

  "Don't try. Do it." She starte
d the disc again.

  His smile disappeared, and he frowned with concentration, his pen flying over the paper.

  She sat on the edge of the bed, watching him. She was once again aware of the intensity, the intelligence in that face. She slowly sipped her coffee and waited for him to finish.

  The conversation took only a few minutes. Garrett pushed the sheet of paper away from him and looked at her. "Done. The man Zelov called was definitely not Staunton. You agree?"

  Emily nodded. The voice on the tape was smoother, deeper. "It never occurred to me that Nicholas Zelov would speak Russian," she said ruefully. "He seemed so dyed-in-the-wool American."

  "I imagine the first Zelov clung very closely to his Russian roots. It seems to have carried down through his progeny." He stood up. "Sit here at the desk. The light is better, and my handwriting isn't wonderful." He smiled slightly. "Though I did try to obey instructions and convey into¬nations and pauses."

  She sat down in the chair and picked up the sheet of paper. Garrett's handwriting was bold, dominant, and incisive. Like his character, she thought absently, but there were many more shadings to his personality. "You're right, your handwriting isn't wonderful, but it's clear. That's all that's important."

  "I'm glad you can make it work." He lay back on the bed and propped himself up against the headboard. He lifted his cup to his lips. "Read. We'll talk later."

  She was already reading.

  "It's Zelov. Dammit, you promised me you'dprotect me. You said no one would know."

  "I have no idea what you're talking about, Zelov. Are you drunk again?"

  "I'm not drunk. Well, maybe I've had a little, but that doesn't change anything. I have a right to do whatever I want. You can't tell me what to do."

  "I can tell you whatever I wish, Zelov. And you will listen re¬spectfully, then obey."

  "Bullshit. You told me no one would know. You lied."

  "Stop sputtering and tell me clearly and slowly what you mean."

  "She asked about the book. She asked about Mikhail Zelov. She asked about my trip to Moscow." "Who asked you?" "That U.N. bitch." Pause. "Emily Hudson?"

  "Yeah. It was her, but her hair was different…"

  "Did she mention the amulets? What did you tell her, Zelov?"

  "Nothing. I didn't tell her anything. I told her to go chase herself.

  She didn't say a word about the amulets. But you've got to protect me. You've got to get her off me."

  "How long ago did she leave?"

  "Five minutes maybe."

  "You fool. You incredible fool to take a chance like this. I'm hanging up."

  "You can't do that. Talk to me. Tell me how you're going to-"

  "I'm hanging up. Listen carefully. My promise will not be bro¬ken. But if you talk to Emily Hudson or anyone else again, you will be punished. Do you understand?"

  "I'm not stupid. Of course, I understand. You can't threaten me. You can't do- "

  The connection was broken.

  Emily finished reading the last words, then went back and started to read the conversation again. Then she played the disc trying to memorize the sound, the intonations, of the man Zelov had called. She wanted to remember that voice if she heard it again. But they had no name. Why hadn't Zelov mentioned his name just one time, she wondered in frustration.

  "Finished?" Garrett asked.

  She nodded and leaned back in the chair. "But we haven't got a name, dammit."

  "We'll get it." He finished his coffee and set the cup on the night¬stand. "But not much more."

  "We know Zelov is definitely involved in something crooked. And that he did something for this man and was paid off. Did he give him that Book of Living*. Or did he give him the hammer?" She thought of something else. "Or the amulets. Plural. That meant there had to be more than the one we found in Nemid's wall."

  "It would seem so." He paused. "But the man who paid Zelov off promised to protect him, and that may mean he'll try to rid him of us.

  So I believe that we should get out of here and head for Moscow as soon as possible."

  She shook her head. "Not until I get a transcript of Mikhail Zelov's letters and journals, the ones that were used at that trial."

  He nodded. "I was going to send Dardon to Hartford to get copies as soon as the records office opened, but I have a lot for him to do. We'll go ourselves. I want to be there before Zelov gets sober enough to request that the documents be kept confidential. Though they can't be that revealing if they've been public for years."

  "There could be something that will give us a lead. We've got to try."

  "Easy, "Garrett said. "We are trying. I'm just saying that I don't want you to build up your hopes, then be disappointed."

  "I don't care if I'm disappointed. I'll just go down another road." She stood up. "I'm going to my room. I'll see you in the morning. What time?"

  "Six. I'll order room service for the three of us and we'll get moving." He swung his legs to the floor. "I'll walk you to your room." "That's not necessary."

  "Yes, it is. And it's necessary for you to keep your door locked and not open it to anyone but me." He opened the hall door for her and followed her out into the corridor.

  "You think that man Zelov called will send Staunton after us."

  "Perhaps. It's an open game. We're not even sure Staunton is con¬nected to Nicholas Zelov yet."

  "They're connected. I feel it." She stopped at her door. "And maybe we should stay here and let Staunton come to us."

  "Not when we're ready to widen the circle."

  "We can widen the circle later. I want Staunton now."

  "What a bloodthirsty woman you are, Emily." He smiled down at her. He reached out and touched her lower lip with a forefinger. "And you look so wholesome and ail-American."

  Her lip was suddenly tingling beneath his finger. An instant before, she had been only thinking of Staunton and how to trap him. Yet the moment he had touched her she had become acutely, physically aware of everything about Garrett. The spicy, male scent of him, the warmth of his body, his eyes looking down at her. How did he do that to her? She moved her head to avoid his touch. "I don't feel wholesome. And I do want Staunton's blood."

  "You'll get it." His hand dropped away from her. "We'll get them all." He turned away. "But don't answer your door no matter whether you want it to be Staunton or not. Not without me beside you, and right now you're obviously not ready to let me occupy that position all night. We don't know how soon or in what manner that promise is go¬ing to be kept to Zelov."

  STAUNTON CURSED AS HE SAW the name on his phone ID. Dammit, it was Babin. He didn't need this. He was pissed off enough that Borg had told him that Garrett had probably managed to get his hands on the amulet in Nemid's study. Borg had bribed one of the Afghani officials who had been crawling all over the library to describe the condition of the crime scene, and that hole in the drywall had not been Borg's work. Staunton didn't want to have to admit that to Babin before he got it back. The bastard hadn't wanted him to use the amulet to strike the deal with Nemid.

  Staunton started talking the moment he picked up. "I was just go¬ing to call you. We plugged the leak in Kabul, but Garrett managed to get his hands on the amulet. Not that it will do him any good. No one can tell anything from it, and we'll take care of Garrett before he makes a connection."

  "He's already made a connection," Babin said coldly. "I just re¬ceived a call from Nicholas Zelov squealing like a pig. Emily Hudson paid him a visit tonight. And if she was there, then Garrett must have been there, too."

  Oh, shit.

  "I didn't think Garrett would track him down quite so soon. As I said, I got rid of Nemid. He was the immediate threat."

  "I didn't tell you to kill Nemid. I could have handled it. And I told you that you shouldn't use one of the amulets with him."

  "I had to offer him a bargain he couldn't refuse. We needed him. It's my job to keep you from worrying about details. And we'll do damage control." He changed the subject
. "Did Zelov tell her any¬thing?"

  "He said he didn't, but the idiot called me immediately after she left him. The drunken fool didn't even realize the risk." "I told you that you should get rid of him." "I couldn't, dammit."

  "I'll jump on the next plane for New York. Do you know where they are?"

  "No. Figure it out for yourself. Prove your worth. But you'll arrange for someone else to find and dispose of Garrett and retrieve Emily Hud¬son in the safest and least public of ways. It's clear you haven't been able to keep a low profile. You know of such a person?"

  "Yes, but I'd rather do it myself."

  "I don't care what you'd rather do. You'll come here in case I need you." He hung up,

  Cold, arrogant bastard, Staunton thought, as he hung up. He was tempted to ignore Babin and go to New York himself. He didn't want anything to happen to Emily before he could get his hands on her. He'd waited too long.

  But Babin was a force he had to reckon with. Staunton wasn't quite ready to make a move yet. Everything and everyone had to be in place. This was his big chance, the bonanza he'd searched for all his life. He had to be calm and patient. It would be better to do as Babin ordered, find someone else to do the job, and trust that his orders would be obeyed. He had to have Emily Hudson.

  But if he couldn't do what he wanted to do at the moment, then he would find another way to sting Emily. She had to realize that he was still in control.

  He reached for his phone and dialed Borg. "Are you still in Kabul?"

  "Yes. I thought I'd call you and ask-"

  "Get a plane to Morocco. Isn't that where you said we followed Irana Povak?"

  "Yes, Tangiers. She's working with some doctor there." He paused. "But I don't know if I can get to her. Dardon has her surrounded with security."

  "We'll get to her. One of those security men will make a slip, and we'll find a way to take her. Find someone to bribe. Find someone to kill. Until then we just have to be patient. Watch and wait, Borg. Watch and wait." He hung up the phone and leaned back in his chair. Good advice, but he wasn't feeling in the least patient. He didn't want Irana Povak. He wanted Emily, dammit. But Emily could be reached by anyone she cared about, and she cared about Irana Povak.