Deadlock

by Iris Johansen

  "We'll get there." He was coming down to her. He didn't touch her skin as he rid her of the rest of her clothes. "But let's explore a few of those doors and windows."

  "Not now." She tried to move toward him. "I'm done with that."

  "Shh." He held her still with one hand on her shoulder. "Just a lit¬tle." His fingers moved with teasing gossamer gentleness over her breasts. "Here's a window."

  The muscles of her stomach clenched as heat moved through her.

  "Oh, yes." He smiled as he moved down to her belly and started to rub. "There's another one. So many wonderful doors and windows."

  She was burning up, she thought desperately.

  She needed it.

  And so did he, dammit. She could feel the heat emanating from him, and his body couldn't have been more ready for her. Seeing that readiness was almost as much a tease as his hand on her flesh.

  Almost. Every stroke of his fingers was bringing her closer to-

  "I love to see you like this," he whispered. "And know that I can do it to you."

  "Now, Garrett. I can't take any more."

  "Yes, you can." He leaned forward and kissed her belly. "But maybe not right now. Later." He moved between her legs. "I think it's time to open another door…"

  She cried out as he plunged deep and started to move.

  "WERE THE WALLS HIGH ENOUGH?" Garrett asked as he moved off her and rolled with her to his side of the bed. "Enough doors and windows? We can try again."

  She laughed as she tried to get her breath. "No, we can't. Not yet. Give me a chance to-" She shuddered as Garrett's hand moved again over her belly. "Or maybe not."

  He chuckled. "No, I've been rejected. I think I'll make you wait a while." He cuddled her closer. "Maybe another five minutes. This is good, too."

  Yes, it is good, she thought. She felt safe and wonderfully at home being held by him. It had been different tonight, after that first explosive beginning. Sexual, intense, mind-blowing, but there had also been a sort of joyous energy and fun that had surprised her. Was it be¬cause he had sensed that was what she needed? "What are you thinking about?" he asked.

  "That you're very intuitive." Her lips brushed his shoulder. "I be¬lieve you're a remarkable man, Garrett."

  "This isn't the moment to admire that particular ability." He said. "I'd rather you concentrate on my sexual talents and the size of my-" His cell phone on the nightstand rang. He sighed as he checked it. "Dardon." He punched the button. "Has Pauley got it finished?" He listened. "No, we'll be down to pick it up." He hung up and gazed at Emily. "You heard me. Is that what you want?"

  It wasn't what she wanted. She wanted to stay here with Garrett and not get out of bed for a week. But she knew what she should do, what she had to do. She nodded. "As soon as I shower and get dressed."

  He tilted his head. "That sounded satisfyingly reluctant." He bent over and brushed his lips over first one nipple, then the other. "So I think we'll compromise." He got out of bed and pulled her to her feet.

  "By all means, we'll tend to business as soon as we get dressed." His palm stroked her bottom as he nudged her toward the bathroom. "But we have to shower. It might as well be together…"

  EIGHTEEN

  "HERE IT IS." PAULEY HANDED them two neatly bound blue books as soon as they entered his room. "Not only accurate content, but a fine presentation. Aren't I wonderful?"

  "Exceptional," Garrett said. He flipped through it and gave a low whistle. "Really exceptional, Pauley."

  "I'm the one who had to compile all those pages," Dardon said sourly. "Lord, he's nitpicking."

  "No use being sloppy," Pauley said. "It reflects on the essential work. But I read bits and pieces of this book, and it's damn ugly. It doesn't de¬serve my effort, but I had to do my best anyway." He turned to Emily. "See? I'm not just a pretty face."

  "I never thought you were."

  "A woman of judgment. Will you marry me?"

  "No."

  "Will you go to bed with me?" "No," Garrett said.

  "I wasn't asking you to-" Pauley glanced warily at Garrett. "I don't believe I'll pursue that subject." He waved his hand. "You've got what you want. All of you. Get out of my room so that I can get some sleep."

  "Delighted," Dardon said. "See you in the morning." He looked at his watch as he moved toward the door. "Which isn't that far away."

  "He's right," Garrett said, as he and Emily stopped outside in the hall. "Do you want to do this in the morning?"

  "No." But she didn't want to be alone either while she read what even Pauley termed ugly. "Can we go to your room and work on them? I thought we'd split it up. We'll scan through the first part that has the philosophy that so appealed to Rasputin. That shouldn't take long. Then we hit the notes that he said he wanted only in his Book of Living."

  He nodded. "That sounds like a plan. I'll order coffee, and we'll see what Mikhail Zelov has to say for himself."

  WHAT ZELOV HAD TO SAY FOR himself was twisted enough to make Emily feel ill. After scanning his doctrines for the best part of an hour, she looked up at Garrett, who was sitting across the room. "No wonder Rasputin embraced him as a brother. This allows every de¬bauchery known to man. It recommends everything from sexual abuse of children, to rape, to destroying the icons of the Church. There's even a section describing the methods of torture and murder of the enemies who oppose Zelov that's worse than anything I've read about the Inqui¬sition."

  Garrett nodded. "He wanted to start his own church, with him¬self as high priest. He spent fifteen years in Jerusalem and tried to es¬tablish his own temple there, but he gave up and came back to Russia to write this book. But there's so much venom in this doctrine that I can't even tell who he'd worship, God or the devil."

  "Himself." Emily shivered. "If he could have taken the throne away from the Tsar, he would have done it. Now let's see how he ap¬plied that doctrine to the royal court."

  She flipped to the last section of the book that was merely la¬beled Notes.

  September 15, 1916

  Rasputin is becoming uncontrollable. I have given him everything, but he is beginning to think he is all that I have made the world be¬lieve he is. I am losing my influence over him.

  October 1, 1916

  Rasputin tells me that he no longer believes my doctrines. He thinks I lied about the temple in Jerusalem. He thinks I lied about the sorcery of the hammer. He loves his position as the Tsarinas advisor and is going to cling to her skirts and that of her Church. I think he fears me too much to betray me, but I cannot be certain.

  October 10, 1916

  I stand alone. Rasputin shunned me when I called on him today. I must destroy him. What a fool he is.

  November 19, 1916

  Rasputin may be influencing the Tsar against me through the Tsa¬rina. The Tsar and I have talked many times about the hammer, and I thought we were in agreement. Lately he avoids the subject, and I sense coolness. Does he not realize that chaos surrounds him? I could hold out my hand and save him as I did his son when the boy was bleeding to death. But he must first give me what I want.

  December 5, 1916

  I board my ship for America tomorrow evening. I have long thought of America. It is a country where a peasant could become a king if he has the money to buy the throne. I will have the money. I thought that I might stay here to gain my destiny, but it isn't wise. What I have to sell has no value for those Communist vultures who are soon going to devour the court and everything else around them. I can see it coming. Even the Tsar should see it coming.

  I left a fond message of farewell for Rasputin.

  He ignored it.

  Good-bye, Rasputin.

  January 12, 1918

  I am back in St. Petersburg. I got off the ship in Liverpool as I planned, crossed to Marseilles, and made my way back to St. Peters¬burg by land. I traveled slowly, and more than a year has gone by since I left Russia. I had to make sure no suspicion fell on me, and the passage of time makes everyone forget what I want them
to for¬get. Rasputin's murder was not as clean as I would have done it. Fe¬lix Yusupov and those other conspirators tried everything from poison, to shooting, to drowning before he managed to get the deed done. Perhaps Rasputin acquired some of my power over the years that made him resistant to death. Not enough. He is dead and no longer a problem for me. I understand the royal family grieves bit¬terly for him. That is good. But they should grieve for themselves. The Tsar has been forced to abdicate, but he still has hopes that all will be well. What will it take to show him he should flee the coun¬try? I will wait a while longer in this small hamlet and not ap¬proach the Tsar at all for a time so that my appearance does not seem too suspicious. Then I'll go to them and tell them I heard of Rasputin's death and came back to comfort them in their sorrow. Then when the Tsar is convinced of my sincerity, we will once again talk of the hammer. I dare not move too fast, but he may have little time.

  May 15, 1918

  I waited too long! The Tsar and his family have been moved from St. Petersburg to Ekaterinaburg under house arrest. I must follow them. I will have no trouble blending in with the people holding him. They are peasants, and I am also a peasant. Though a thousand times more clever than they will ever be. I can still get what I need. The Tsar may be more inclined to listen to me now that he knows his only hope is es¬cape.

  June 18, 1918

  The Tsar is a fool. He says he has no need of my hammer or its sor¬cery. He has coded the directions to the map in the four amulets worn around the necks of his daughters and his wife. He said that the amulets will be placed on a map according to the ages of his daugh¬ters. Olga will be the first, her amulet covering St. Petersburg and the scrollwork showing the first route out of the city, Marias andAnas-tasia's will follow. The last amulet, the one worn by the Tsarina, shows the final route to the destination and also has the final direc¬tions to the treasure engraved on the gold beneath the painting. It is ironic that the amulets are paintings of Rasputin and the messages hidden in the wrought-gold framing of one of his prayers. Put them together, and they can lead a man to paradise or at least to the map that points the way.

  I tried to persuade him to tell me a few details as to the place he found to store such a vast treasure. He would only say that it was in Austria and hidden so well that it would not be foundfor a thousand years without the amulets. When he escapes, he will use the amulets to guide him to the cave in the Alps where the treasure was placed years ago. I must be with him every step of the way if I cannot get him to cooperate.

  The Tsar said he would have no trouble getting the girls to wear the amulets to show their love for Rasputin, but his wife wished to make sure her pearls were safe and had asked him to have their son carry the final amulet. That was my opportunity! I told him that it would endanger his heir and offered him the hammer to hide the fi¬nal amulet. I was very eloquent, and told him that Rasputin had blessed the hammer, and it was sure to bring him additional good fortune. He said he would think about it.

  June 21, 1918

  The Tsar sent for me and told me he would accept the hammer to hide the final amulet.

  Accept? Arrogant bastard. I wanted to bludgeon him with it. But I smiled and bowed and told him how grateful I was that he would let me help.

  July 5, 1918

  I think the Tsar is planning his escape. He is being very cooperative with all of his captors and is even planning on visiting the new Peo¬ple's Museum that was built across the street from the residence. He must be trying to avert suspicion for he loathes those Communists who hold his life in their hands.

  July 13, 1918

  I gave the Tsar the hammer tonight. How I hated to let it out of my hands. The bastard would not even tell me where he intended to hide the hammer until they escaped the country. Never mind. I will find it. Sometimes I feel as if the hammer knows me, calls to me.

  The amulets on the necks of the grand duchesses are a more diffi¬cult matter. How to get them away from them? How to do it…

  July 17, 1918

  It is so simple.

  I have been working on influencing Yurovsky, the head of the Tsar's captors, and it will happen tonight. I will not let the Tsar see my face until the last minute. He must know who is responsible after all the annoyance he has caused me.

  July 18, 1918

  They are dead. The Tsar and all his family shot to death and blud¬geoned in the cellar of Ipatiev House. I convinced Yurovsky they all had to die. He was only going to kill the Tsar and his son. I stayed in the background as I planned and only steppedforward as they were killing the Tsar. But I had to help with the killing of the grand duchesses. No matter how many bullets we sprayed them with, they would not die. I found out why once we stripped them down. They had sewn diamonds into their corsets, and the bullets were bouncing off! I started to laugh, but then I realized everyone was grabbing at the amulets as well as the diamonds. No! They were mine.

  They tossed all the jewels into a sack and onto the wagon with the bodies. I had to go with them. It was most annoying. I was going to slip away, but I have to get my hands on those amulets.

  They threw the bodies down into a mineshaft, but I had no op¬portunity to grab the sack with the amulets. Some bastard had al¬ready taken it. I willfind them. I must find them.

  "Had enough?" Garrett asked.

  Emily looked up and saw that Garrett was studying her face. "I'll finish it and tell you about it," he said. "You look as if you're about to throw up."

  She did feel sick. It was as if all of Zelov's evil was reaching out to her, smothering her. She smiled faintly. "You're being protective again."

  "Yeah. I guess I am."

  "He reminds me of Staunton." She moistened her lips. "Did you get to the part where he laughed because the diamonds in the corsets were deflecting the bullets?"

  "Yes."

  "Those poor young girls. What a nightmare for them. What a horror he was. Like Staunton." She added, "But now at least we know why that map was with the amulets. The Tsar had to have a particular map that he could fashion to work with the scroll on the amulets. It's not as if you could place the amulets over just any map and expect it to lead anywhere."

  "You didn't answer me. Do you want me to finish it and tell you the rest? I'll make it brief."

  She shook her head. "I just needed a break for a few moments. There doesn't seem to be much more. And it can't be any more terri¬ble than-"

  Garrett's cell phone rang. He glanced down at it. "Ferguson." He answered it. "What's the story?" He listened for a few moments, then said, "Let me know."

  As he hung up, he said, "Nicholas Zelov was not at his house in Connecticut. The servants don't know where he is. He drove off about noon to go to his tailor, then to a cocktail party in Manhattan. He was a little drunk, but they said he was always at least a little drunk."

  "Then he could have had an accident," Emily said. She wished she could believe that was true. But she had read about too much blood and murder tonight.

  "Yes, Ferguson is checking to see if he can get the state police to try to spot his car. It shouldn't be difficult. It's a red Lamborghini."

  WHAT A SHAME TO DESTROY a sweet car like that, Borg thought. It was almost a crime.

  Borg smiled at the thought as he watched the tail end of the Lam¬borghini slowly sink into the marsh. Actually, the crime was not the killing of the car. With any luck, Zelov would not be found for a very long time.

  And Borg felt lucky. Everything had been going off very well. He dialed Staunton. "I've earned my bonus. What next?" "Come to Moscow. It's time we finished the job." "Garrett and Hudson?" "Not Hudson. Emily Hudson is mine."

  July 17, 1918

  I have three of the amulets. I found out which of the peasants who had been at the mine had taken the sack and waited until they took the jewels to the flea market and sold them. The stupid oafs got a pittance for the diamonds, but they only wanted to get rid of them. I followed behind them, and when the amulets were sold, I bought them back.

&nbs
p; But dammit, there are only three. Where is the hammer that has the fourth? It is the most important of all of them, for it has the en¬graved directions beneath the painting. I went back to Ipatiev House, but I couldn't find it. Maybe the Tsar persuaded his wife to wear the amulet after all. No, the Tsarina had been stripped and robbed like the girls.

  But a worthless amulet might not have been noticed. It could have still been around her neck when she was thrown into the mine. Worthless? The fools. The stupid, careless fools. I'll have to go back to the mine tonight.

  July 17, 1918 11:40 p.m.

  I went back to the mine, but it was guarded. Yurovsky does not want anyone to know where the bodies were thrown. I had to wait until later to kill the guard and go down into the mine. The water was icy cold and the bodies starting to stink. There was no amulet around that royal bitch's neck. It has to be in the hammer.

  I climbed out of the mine, and my anger was so hot I did not feel the cold. Think, I told myself. Where had the Tsar hidden the ham¬mer? If it wasn't at the house, where could he have-

  Then it came to me. The People's Museum. What better place to hide the hammer? Across the street from Ipatiev House and easy to re¬trieve. He had visited the museum to pay his respects the day after I gave him the hammer. I had thought he was trying to pacify his cap¬tors and save his neck. It had even amused me.

  It did not amuse me now. It filled me with exhilaration.

  I tried to break into the museum that night, but there were guards all over the street. The next day I went into the museum with a crowd ofpeasants who wanted to gawk at the few exhibits the new government had set up to glorify themselves.

  The hammer is there! I saw it.

  But I cannot touch it! I can tell they suspect me of the murder of the guard at the mine. And someone might have seen me at the flea market when I bought the amulets. I'm sure I was followed today.

  I must not panic. I must control myself. I cannot stay here any longer. My position is too dangerous. And too many people may re¬member I was at court with the royal family. This country is in tur¬moil, and I will not let myself be swept away in the bloodbath. I will go to America as I planned. But I will not go as a pauper. I do not have all the keys to the Tsar's fortune, but I can come back for the hammer later. I can still be a king.