Deadlock

by Iris Johansen

  "Then let's compromise. I come to the silo, but I won't get out of the car. When you see me, you tell your guard to release her. Have her call me and tell me she's been released, and I'll turn myself over to you."

  He was silent a moment. "I did want to have both of you. I was so entertained by your response to Levy."

  "I know you were. I won't go through that again, Staunton. Let her go."

  Another silence. "Very well. Have it your way. Four hours, Emily. That will be about eleven tonight." He hung up. Eleven tonight.

  She turned to Garrett. "It seems we have to wait again."

  "You're not going to meet him," he said flatly.

  "The hell I'm not." She stared him in the eye. "There's no way you could keep me from going. This isn't Babin. This is Irana. It's a way to get him away from that warehouse and for you to be able to surprise whoever is holding Irana. You said that you thought he'd kill Irana rather than give her up if we surprised them. I think so, too. And I don't believe she has a chance of living long after he gets his hands on me." She moistened her lips. "So you have to free her before that hap¬pens. I won't get out of the car, and you can figure a way to keep me safe. But he can't know you're anywhere near. I won't have Irana put in danger."

  "And do you have any suggestions as to how the hell we'll do all that?"

  "That's up to you." She turned away. "Pauley rose to the occasion. You've got the experience at this kind of thing. Use it."

  "Oh, I will. But experience doesn't mean shit when it's someone you care about. This is Irana." He paused. "This is you." He whirled on his heel. "And I know right now that I'm going to have to let you have a big part in this, and its damn well killing me. But I'll be like our friend Pauley and find a way to get the job done." He added grimly, "And hope that it doesn't kill you."

  9:55 p.m.

  "READY?" GARRETT ASKED, as Emily got into the driver's seat.

  She wasn't ready. She was scared and a little sick to her stomach. "Sure. I'm okay."

  "I'll be at the warehouse in Sakvar by eleven, and I should be able to get Irana out by eleven-fifteen. Keep Staunton busy talking so that he won't call and check on Irana before that time."

  "That shouldn't be hard. Staunton likes to talk." She remembered all the hours he'd stayed with her-taunting her, questioning her.

  "Don't get out of the car," Garrett said. "And don't let him leave the silo." He handed her the black box he'd demonstrated to her ear¬lier. "When I have Irana free, I'll ring you twice on your cell."

  "You've already told me all that," she said. "Eleven-fifteen, two rings." She started the car. "And don't get out of the car."

  "I guess I have." He stepped back. "It bears repeating. Be careful."

  "You be careful," she said. "And take care of Irana."

  She glanced at her rearview mirror and could see him standing there, hands clenched at his sides as she drove out of the farmyard.

  Then he whirled and strode toward the BMW, where Dardon was waiting.

  1 1.02 p.m.

  EMILY COULDN'T TELL WHETHER the roof of the silo was red or not. It only appeared to be dark rust in the moonlight. But Garrett had said this was the right silo, and she had to trust him. She slowed the car to a crawl, then stopped a short distance from the silo.

  The palms of her hands on the steering wheel were moist with perspiration. Her heart was beating fast, hard, as she gazed at the silo.

  He was there. He was probably looking at her through the high-powered binoculars he'd mentioned. Keep her face without expres¬sion. Don't let him see his effect on her.

  Her phone rang.

  "My, my, you're right on time," Staunton said. "A little anxious, my Emily?"

  "I'm not your Emily. Give the order to release Irana."

  "Presently. I'm looking the terrain over to make sure that you haven't got any unwelcome visitors trailing behind you."

  "You know better. I wouldn't take the chance."

  "No, you're very concerned about your friend. That's your great¬est weakness, Emily. I'll always be able to come out on top because I don't have that weakness."

  "I'm aware you don't give a damn about anyone. You've proved it time and time again. Let her go, Staunton."

  "Get out of the car and come to me."

  Don't get out of the car.

  She looked at her watch-11:05. Keep talking. "I won't risk my¬self without being sure that it's worth it. Who is watching her? Borg?"

  "No, Borg is busy attending to some other business for me in Paris. I had to call in a local. Fasrov is lethal, but not nearly as talented as Borg. I missed him this afternoon."

  She stiffened. Block out the part that was causing panic to ice through her. "What kind of business?"

  "Partly damage control. Partly long-term insurance." He was silent. "I do believe you've been a good girl. I don't see any signs of Garrett or his friends. Now get out of the car, put down the gun I'm sure you have, and walk toward the silo."

  "I won't get out of the car."

  "Then I'll call Fasrov and tell him to kill our Sister Irana. Then I'll shoot out your tires, and we'll go from there." She looked at her watch-11:12.

  "I don't want to kill your friend," Staunton said. "It will be much more amusing if I can keep her alive… for a while." "Like Joel."

  "Exactly like Joel Levy."

  "I told you that I wouldn't let you-"

  "Your choice. I kill her now, or you take the chance you can free her later."

  It was eleven thirteen.

  "I'm going to hang up and call Fasrov now," Staunton said. "Don't make the call. I'm getting out of the car." "Very good. I told you that softness would beat you every time." She got out of the car. "I'm putting down my gun." She set the Glock on the ground. "I'm going to walk toward you. Where are you?" "I'm on scaffolding inside the silo. I'll come down to meet you." Don't let him leave the silo. "No," she said quickly. "I'm on my way to you." "Now why do you want me to-"

  "I'm hanging up the phone now." Emily clicked the button and moved slowly toward the silo.

  Eleven fifteen, Garrett had said. Two rings, Garrett had said.

  But it was only eleven fourteen, and she was already out in the open and struggling to keep Staunton in that damn silo. Where the hell are you, Garrett?

  11:14 p.m. Sakvar Warehouse

  ONLY ONE GUARD AND HE WERE standing in front of the load¬ing dock of the warehouse.

  Garrett moved silently across the dock.

  One yard. Two yards. Three. Now!

  His arm went around the guard's neck from behind. He pulled back, twisted, and snapped it.

  "Dardon." He moved toward the heavy freight door. "Bring the car around."

  He ran down the hall. It was eleven-fifteen. His infrared detector had indicated one person at the far end of the warehouse. He was praying it was Irana. He was praying she was alive. He couldn't call Emily until he was sure.

  The door was locked. Dammit, he should have gotten the key from the guard.

  He aimed downward at the lock. "Irana, stand back."

  No answer.

  The lock exploded as he blasted it. He threw open the door. "Irana?"

  EMILY'S PHONE IN HER POCKET rang. Once. Twice. Two rings. At last.

  She heard Staunton's voice just inside the silo. "Just what are you-"

  She pressed the remote control on the box Garrett had given her.

  And Staunton was framed in the doorway as the silo blew.

  Emily was running back to get the gun she'd laid on the ground, but the force of the blast threw her to the ground.

  "Bitch," Staunton was cursing as he tried to pick himself up off the ground. "Whore."

  A bullet whistled by Emily's ear as she crawled the final few feet to the Glock. She grabbed it and rolled behind the car. "But you like ex¬plosives, Staunton." She aimed carefully. "You blew up Irana's hospital. You blew up her plane. Garrett thought it only fitting that he come here and do some advance work so that he could return the favor." />
  "I'll kill her. I warned you, Emily." He was struggling to reach his phone. "You've signed her death-" He cried out as her bullet entered his shoulder.

  Dammit, she had meant the bullet to hit his chest. If he hadn't moved for the phone, he would have been dead, and this would have been over. She took aim again.

  But Staunton was up and running around the burning silo, blood pouring from the wound in his shoulder. An instant later she heard the sound of a car being started.

  "No!"

  She started to get to her knees as she saw Staunton's Volvo tearing out from behind the silo.

  Was he coming toward her?

  No, he'd passed her and was barreling down the road.

  Shoot out his tires. She leveled the gun.

  But he was zigzagging all over the tarmac.

  And the next moment he was out of range.

  Disappointment as sharp as it was deep tore through her. She'd failed. He was still alive. He'd been bleeding profusely, but if he stopped the flow, there was a good chance he'd live.

  She could still see the taillights of Staunton's car.

  It was all to do again, she realized in despair. Staunton was still out there. She would have to find him and kill him before he managed to hurt anyone else.

  It wasn't over.

  BITCH. BITCH. BITCH.

  Staunton could feel the blood pouring down his arm as he stomped on the accelerator.

  She had come close to killing him, he thought incredulously. She had tried to blow him up, then she had shot him. He might still die if he didn't get this damn blood stopped. He would have taken care of the bitch if he hadn't realized that he couldn't afford to take the chance of bleeding to death while he did it.

  He would pull off the road, make a compress, and find a doctor somewhere in a nearby town to get out the bullet.

  Then I'll be ready for you, Emily.

  EMILY DIALED GARRETT AS she got back in the car. "Two rings. Tell me it wasn't a mistake. Irana is safe?" "Irana is safe."

  Relief soared through her. "Thank God."

  "How are you? Did you blow that son of a bitch to kingdom come?"

  "No. It didn't go as you hoped it would. I blew the silo, but he wasn't inside. I only managed to wound him." "But you're okay?"

  "Yes. He was bleeding badly and got away. I thought we had a chance to end it, Garrett. He was moving, and I only got his shoulder. Now we have to start over."

  "No, we've made progress. We just have to keep going. I'm on my way back to the farm with Dardon and Irana. I'll meet you there." He hung up.

  GARRETT HAD ALREADY ARRIVED at the farmhouse when Emily pulled into the yard.

  She jumped out of the car and ran into the house.

  "Irana!"

  "She's here." Garrett turned away from the stove. "She's in the bathroom. She said to tell you that she'd be out in a few minutes." He poured coffee into a cup. "The bastard didn't feed her all day. I asked her if she wanted something to eat, but she said all she wanted was coffee."

  "But she's not hurt?"

  "She said she wasn't hurt."

  "Is Dardon okay?"

  "Yes. I sent Pauley to bed and Dardon out to do guard duty." Garrett wasn't looking at her. "What's wrong? You're sure Irana's not hurt?"

  "That's what she said." He still didn't look away from the coffee. "But she was very quiet on the trip back here."

  "Quiet?" Emily's stomach clenched, and her gaze flew to the bath¬room door. "What do you think that means?" Dear God, don't let anything be-

  "You've scared her, Garrett." The door had opened, and Irana came out of the bathroom, drying her wet hair with a towel. "You shouldn't have done that." She threw her wet towel on the back of a chair. "She's had a bad enough time tonight from what you've told me."

  Emily's gaze was raking Irana's face. "Irana…?"

  "Here's your coffee." Garrett held out the cup to Irana. His voice was hoarse, and when Emily glanced at his face, she was shocked to see the pain in his expression.

  Irana shook her head. "I don't really want it now. I just knew that you'd feel better if you could do something for me. All I wanted was a bath and to wash my hair. I'm okay now." She turned to Emily. "Come on, Emily. Let's go outside and get some air. I hope you don't mind that I borrowed your clothes and one of your jackets. I can't seem to get warm."

  "Am I invited to come along?" Garrett asked.

  "No." Irana headed for the door. "I'll talk to you later. Emily needs me now."

  "What do you mean I need you?" Emily asked when she'd closed the door behind them and followed Irana a few yards into the farm¬yard. "What about you? What do you need, Irana?" She gazed search-ingly at the other woman. Irana was half-turned away from her, but her face appeared pale and strained in the light cast by the bare bulb over the door. "Did he hurt you?"

  "It doesn't matter, Emily. It's gone. Soon it will only be a distant memory."

  "Oh, God, he did hurt you," she said, agonized. "How?"

  Irana turned to look at her. "I asked you to come out here because I knew that this was going to be bad for you. I wanted it over for both of us as quickly as possible."

  "Garrett should never have asked you to come here. It's my fault. I think he did it because he wanted to keep me from-"

  "Garrett gave me a choice. It's not your fault. It's not Garrett's. Though you'll both probably blame yourselves." Her voice was a little uneven. "You'll be doing me a great favor if you try not to do that. It's very difficult for me to try to heal both of you and myself at the same time."

  "What did he do to you?"

  "Nothing that I can't overcome."

  I only wanted a bath and to wash my hair.

  Torture of a woman usually starts with rape, Staunton had told Emily all those weeks ago.

  "Don't look at me like that," Irana said. "I won't have him hurt you again, through me." Her hands grasped Emily's shoulders. "Lis¬ten, I'm going to say this once, then I'm not ever going to talk about it again." Her voice vibrated with passionate sincerity. "He didn't hurt my mind, or my spirit, or my soul. Anything else he did doesn't mat¬ter at all. Do you understand?"

  Emily's throat was so tight, she couldn't speak for a moment. "I understand." She understood that Irana was probably even more special than she had dreamed. She stepped closer and enfolded her in her arms. "But I can't say it won't matter to me," she said unevenly. "You told me once I was one of the soldiers. I can't take the higher view."

  Irana's arms tightened around her for a brief moment. "I'm having a little trouble doing that, too," she whispered. "I'm working my way through it." She stepped back. "And now I think it's time we both tried to sleep. Tomorrow, everything will be clearer. Garrett said I could share your room."

  Emily nodded. "Or you could have it by yourself if you prefer."

  "I do not prefer. No guilt. No sacrifices." She turned toward the door. "And if you wish to do me a service, you can make sure Garrett understands and complies. He's a great one for guilt and taking the blame. I've tried for years to rid him of one guilt complex, and I don't want to contend with another."

  Emily remembered Garrett's expression when he'd offered Irana that cup of coffee in the kitchen. "He knows, Irana."

  Irana nodded. "I was… not myself when he came to the ware¬house. And it's very hard for him. He cares for me. That's why you must make it easier for all of us to get through this."

  "I'll do my best." She'd do anything to make the situation easier for Irana. Lord knows Irana was trying to make it easier for them. "No guilt. No blame."

  Except for Staunton.

  May you burn in hell, Staunton.

  IRANA WAS STILL SLEEPING when Emily crept out of the bed¬room at seven the next morning. She was glad that Irana had finally dropped off a few hours ago. She had been curled up and silent most of the night, but Emily had been aware of her tension. She had wanted to reach out and touch her, but had given her space.

  Garrett was sitting at the table, papers spread out befor
e him. He looked up when she came into the room. "There's coffee on the stove." "What are you doing?"

  "You told me to translate Zelov's book. I'm obliging." She went over to the stove and poured a cup of coffee. "That seems a long time ago."

  He nodded. "A decade at least. A lot has happened." Ugliness. Blood. Pain.

  He turned back to Zelov's book. "But it still needs doing if we want to move forward. And you wanted to read it."

  "Have you been working all night?"

  "Yes, I would have had trouble sleeping anyway."

  "I didn't have a great night either." She leaned against the counter. "But I made a promise to Irana, and I have to make sure I keep it." She paused. "That you keep it."

  He looked up at her. "You're making promises on my behalf?"

  "This one. No blame. No guilt. She doesn't want to deal with it from either one of us."

  He closed his eyes. "I can't keep your promise, Emily. You were right, I should never have brought her here."

  "You will keep it. Or make her think you are. And you'd better do a good job of it. I won't have this made any worse for her than it is al¬ready. She's incredibly strong, but she's hurting. If she looks at us and sees that we're remembering, it will bring it back to her. That's not go¬ing to happen. I won't let it."

  His eyes opened, and Emily could see the glitter of moisture. "No, that's not going to happen. I was thinking that I'd like to send her back to Mykala for a while. Dardon could go with her to keep her safe."

  "Great. If she'll do it." The idea of Irana away from this hellish situation was wonderfully welcome. She took a sip of coffee. "Maybe we can persuade her." She glanced at the papers on the table. "How far along are you?"

  "Not far enough. It's slow going. I'll probably turn it over to Pauley to finish. He can try to tap into one of the Russian language sites and see what he can do."

  "Then why don't you try to take a nap? You look exhausted."

  He smiled faintly. "Are you concerned about me, Emily? You weren't when you gave me this assignment."

  "I was angry. I'm probably still angry." But that indignation and anger seemed remote and curiously unimportant right now. "Oh, just go to bed."

  He shook his head. "I'll finish up this entry, then go and wake Pauley and call Dardon to come in from the perimeter. We have to get out of here."