Deadlock

by Iris Johansen

  She'd be ready for him. She was ready for him now.

  Don't look at him; he'd see the tears.

  Don't say the words. Just start the car and drive away.

  Don't say the words…

  "WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S taking Joslyn away from here?" Irana demanded as she strode down the hospital corridor toward Emily. "I'm not sure he's ready to travel. He just regained consciousness an hour ago."

  "If Ferguson has to wrap Joslyn in cotton wool, I'd be willing to bet he'll be on a plane out of here before the end of the day," Emily said. "You'd better get him ready." She paused. "And you'd better go with him, Irana."

  "That sounded loaded with significance. Am I going on the lam?"

  She smiled faintly. "You didn't find that phrase in a Jane Austen book."

  "Am I?"

  "No, but Joslyn will be in seclusion until he recovers, and it will be more comfortable for you to share it."

  "I don't usually do what's comfortable for me."

  "I know. But you'll be doing me a favor this time if you do."

  "Why?"

  "Ferguson and I are going on the road. Lots of paparazzi and TV cameras. You don't want to be involved." "I might."

  "I don't want you involved. You'd be defeating the purpose." "What is the purpose?"

  "Going back to square one. If it had been Ferguson instead of Garrett who rescued me from Staunton in those mountains, it's what I would have done anyway. Ferguson would have seen to it. But now we can get something for my trouble."

  "For heaven's sake, you're trying to protect all of us," Irana said in disgust. "And I thought Garrett was bad."

  "Will you go with Joslyn?"

  She didn't speak for a moment. "Is Garrett furious?" "Among other things. Will you go?"

  "Probably. I can't see how I can help you, and I somehow feel that there may be more I have to do with Joslyn. You'll keep in touch?" "No, not until no one is interested in who my friends are." "But you'll call when you need me."

  "Oh, yes." She gave Irana a hug, then held her close for an instant longer before she released her. Her eyes were stinging again. "But then, I always need you, Irana." She smiled shakily. "Oh, by the way, Ferguson is going to be spinning a fairy tale about what went on with Staunton. There's no longer any Tsar's treasure. Don't be surprised when you see the story in the newspapers."

  "How did that come about?"

  "I think Ferguson has decided he wants to be a Tsar, too. He'll be disappointed. He won't find the hammer."

  "You're sure? Did Staunton tell you where it is?"

  Emily shook her head. "No, he didn't tell me." She gave Irana an¬other hug and turned to go. "Good-bye, Irana. Keep safe and take care."

  "Of course, I will." Irana's face lit with her luminous smile. "I told you, that's what I do. I'm one of the caretakers of the world." The caretaker.

  Whom could you trust to make sure all that money was protected and went to charity?

  And did Emily have the right to take the responsibility of denying the caretakers of the world?

  "What is it?" Irana was studying Emily's expression.

  "You can forget this or remember it," Emily said. "Your choice. I choose to forget it. Staunton didn't tell me where he hid the hammer. But he was comparing himself constantly with Zelov while we were talking. He was jealous of him. And one of the things that he said was that he wanted to take me to the museum where the hammer had been on exhibit all those years, the one across from the execution house. He wanted me to visit another site of Zelov's failure."

  Irana's eyes widened. "You actually think he put the hammer back there?"

  "Mikhail Zelov wasn't able to find a way to get the hammer out of that museum. Too many guards. Staunton would have been delighted to prove that he could not only put the hammer back somewhere in that museum, but steal it away again whenever it suited him. It would prove he was better than Zelov." She turned away again. "Of course, it's just a guess. Do whatever you like with it. Except let it destroy you. That's not one of the choices."

  She didn't look back as she walked toward the elevators.

  Four months later People's Museum Ekaterinaburg, Russia

  THE HAMMER WAS LYING B E S I D E two huge fake rocks in a dis¬play depicting the progress of man through the centuries. The central figures were a peasant farmer and his wife laboring in the field.

  Irana had thought the hammer would have been hidden away somewhere on the premises, but Staunton, with his customary bold¬ness, had chosen to place it on exhibit. Because it would have been harder to retrieve and another taunt at Mikhail Zelov if Staunton managed to do it?

  Whatever his reason Irana was sure that the hammer lying on the ground as if carelessly tossed there was Zelov's hammer. It was crude and smaller than she would have thought, but it had a hefty ten-inch wooden handle and an iron head. It looked ancient and primitive but as if it could strike a sharp blow.

  Why was she so certain it was Zelov's hammer? Irana wondered. Why had she felt as if she recognized that hammer from the moment she had seen it? "Why couldn't she force herself to look away from it?

  And why has she felt compelled to come back from England to see if Emily had been right about its being here?

  Too many questions. But one of those questions had been an¬swered. The others might never be answered.

  She finally managed to pull her gaze away, turned, and headed for the front entrance. Her flight to return to England and Peter Joslyn was due to leave in two hours. She needed to be on it.

  Two days later

  Chadwick Estate, England

  "YOU'RE LOOKING MUCH BETTER, Peter," Irana said as she walked across the terrace toward Joslyn. "Your color is good, and you appear more relaxed than I've ever seen you. Soon you'll have no need for me."

  "I feel better." He smiled as he gestured for her to sit down in the chair opposite him. "Why not? The sun is shining, and it's a beautiful day. My daughter is down from university, and she keeps me young. But I'll always need you, Irana. My wife is convinced you saved my life."

  "She's right; I'm a very good doctor." She amended, "Well, I helped. God gave me the skill, and your family gave you the reason to fight. You're very lucky, Peter."

  "Yes, I am. Not only to have you as my doctor, but also as my friend. I missed you while you were gone. You must think I'm doing better if you thought I was well enough for you to leave me."

  "I had some business that I had to take care of, and you were be¬ginning to resent my hovering."

  "I didn't resent you. As I said, I know I'm lucky." He looked down at the newspaper in front of him. "Luckier than Emily. Why don't they leave her alone?"

  Irana glanced at the photo. "Ferguson is feeding the frenzy. But she'll be fine. She just has to get through it. She's very strong."

  "Yes." His gaze went to the beautifully manicured lawns stretching out before them. "I wish she'd let me help her."

  "I know you do," Irana said. "So do I. But friends sometimes have to step back."

  "She doesn't regard me as a friend." His expression clouded. "Who can blame her after all I've done to her? She went through hell, and I'm going to get off scot-free. I wish Ferguson hadn't been quite so ef¬ficient in erasing my involvement. I should be punished."

  "You are being punished," Irana said. "Your soul is scarred, and you're suffering. You've lost your friend, Dimitri. You live with regret and guilt. That's great punishment, Peter."

  "Not enough."

  "Then God will have to decide. I hear you're planning on going back to Ethiopia on a mission as soon as you're able."

  He nodded. "To help the children. Dimitri would want me to do it."

  "Yes, he wanted desperately to help the children, didn't he? One of the last things he said to me was that he had to protect the hammer and protect the children." She followed his gaze to the rolling green lawns. "It was a rather odd phrasing. I didn't think anything of it at the time. It was only later that I began to wonder. I had plenty of time, staying h
ere in your lovely home for these months." She could sense the slight stiffening of his body. "There were so many things that puzzled me."

  "Really? I thought everything had pretty well been explained."

  "Yes, so many explanations about the Tsar and Zelov and the great, grand fortune that everyone was after. All that was clear to me."

  Joslyn's expression was distinctly wary. "And what was not?"

  "The Tsar. He never trusted Zelov, but he accepted the hammer to hide that final amulet. Why?"

  "Zelov convinced him that it was lucky, that it would bring him good fortune."

  "And Zelov had been working for years, trying to use the hammer to cement his influence with the Tsar. That was only the last and most successful attempt. Why would he think that he could gain power in that way?"

  "I have no idea." Joslyn looked away from her. "Why don't you tell me?"

  "Nicholas II was extremely religious."

  "That's no secret. Oh, yes, I remember that Zelov told the Tsar the hammer had been blessed by Rasputin."

  "Yes, but that was almost an afterthought. Zelov had already pre¬pared the way with the Tsar."

  "You're talking a great deal about this hammer."

  "Because it always seemed strange to me that you and Bishop Dimitri would be so determined to get the hammer back." She paused. "Even for the money to help a world of children. "

  His gaze shifted back to her. "What are you saying, Irana?"

  "I'm saying the Tsar's fortune would lure most people. Not you, not Bishop Dimitri, not Bishop Nartova. So it had to be something else."

  "Of course, it did. To keep Mikhail Zelov from getting the money, then to keep it away from other factions. Like Staunton."

  Irana shook her head. "Plausible. Not enough."

  "Then what?"

  "The hammer itself," she said quietly. "I think that when Mikhail Zelov went to Bishop Nartova, he told him something that made it certain that he'd get his money to become a king in America."

  "Really? What would that be?"

  "Zelov was obsessed with the hammer. He'd brought it back from Jerusalem. He thought it gave him power. Add it all together. What hammer could he have unearthed in the Holy Land that would make him think that?"

  She could see the pulse leap in Joslyn's temple. He didn't answer for a long moment. "You're talking about the Crucifix. Very far¬fetched, Irana."

  "Yes, it stunned me when I realized that's where it was leading. Far-fetched and probably completely impossible to prove. But I think Bishop Nartova must have believed Mikhail Zelov enough to try to do anything to keep it away from him. The hammer could represent the holiest of sacrifices, but Zelov was using it for greed and evil. Nar¬tova couldn't bear the thought of risking the chance that the hammer in Zelov's possession was the one used on that day." She shook her head. "And neither could Bishop Dimitri. Nartova probably confided his suspicions to him, and your friend wanted only to protect it from the Zelovs of the world."

  "If you're correct, it would seem that it all went wrong," Joslyn said.

  "Bishop Dimitri was trying to make it right."

  "You're saying that there's no amulet in that hammer, no Tsar's fortune?"

  "No, I believe that the Tsar did use it for that purpose. But it wasn't the treasure you and Dimitri and Nartova were protecting."

  Joslyn stared her in the eye. "I'm not admitting anything to you, Irana."

  "I know. Bishop Dimitri probably made you swear not to mention it to anyone," Irana said gently. "And you'd never break your word."

  "No, if I gave my word, I'd never break it," Joslyn said. "And you're right, it could never be proved, but it could cause endless conflict and turmoil if even the possibility of its existence was mentioned."

  "I agree. That's what has been troubling me." She smiled slightly. "And that's why I decided to talk to you about it."

  "It shouldn't trouble you. The hammer has disappeared and may never be found again. That bastard Staunton must have hidden it very well."

  Irana nodded. "Yes, I believe you're right about that. He did hide it well."

  "Then what are you going to do?" Joslyn's voice was urgent. "Leave it alone, Irana. You know what an uproar you could start if you begin making statements that even hint at what you're saying."

  "I'm not one to hint at anything, Peter. I have a tendency to say everything with deplorable frankness."

  "Not so deplorable except in this case."

  "You're still trying to protect the hammer, Peter. You don't have to protect it from me."

  "I have to protect it for Dimitri. I have to do what he'd want me to do. If there was any truth in your supposition, Dimitri would have said that if the hammer is ever found, it would be better to use the Tsar's fortune for good and not address the question of the origin of the hammer at all. Leave it to God to decide."

  "I try to do that, but sometimes God wants us to handle things ourselves."

  "Not now," Joslyn said emphatically. "Don't do it, Irana."

  Was he right? Her heart and soul were leaning toward helping those children just as Bishop Dimitri had wanted to do. But to throw the Christian world into conflict over the hammer would be a terrible thing to do. It was what Zelov and Staunton would have loved to have happen.

  And there were so many questions, and some answers, Joslyn didn't even know about. He thought the hammer was still lost, and that would have postponed any decision. She had not really come to Joslyn for advice, she had just wanted confirmation and to share a heavy bur¬den. It had probably not been fair to him. She had always shouldered her own burdens, and in the end this would be no exception.

  Irana once more gazed out at the verdant lawns and brilliant blue sky. It was a day so beautiful that you wanted to tuck it into your memory to hold forever. She had many of those memories from Mykala. Each day was a gift and a blessing.

  Why was she worrying when she had already been given so many gifts? She must only clear her mind of all selfishness, and the answers would come to her. To act now? To act later? To not act at all? It would come to her what her purpose was in this if she just accepted it as she did each sparkling day. A blessing…

  "Bishop Dimitri was a very wise man, Peter." Irana smiled as she leaned back in her chair. "Yes, I'm sure God can take care of it. Let's leave it to him for now."

  EPILOGUE

  Fourteen Months Later Dylan Bay, North Carolina

  GARRETT WAS WALKING DOWN the beach toward her.

  Emily stiffened, then forced herself to relax. Don't let it mean too much.

  Bull. How could she help letting it mean too much? She had missed him every minute of every day since she had left him at the monastery. Just seeing him smile at her was throwing her into a tailspin.

  She stood up on the dune, her bare feet sinking into the warm sand as she faced him. "You're looking… well."

  "Is that all you've got to say?" he asked. "I've been waiting for you to call me for over a year. I was wondering if you'd ever get around to it."

  "It took a long time for the media to look on me as past history." She paused. "And I wanted to make sure that all the scars were on the way to healing. I wasn't going to be good for anyone else until I was good for myself."

  "You had to do that alone?" His face was without expression. "You had to close me out?"

  "I thought I did." And she hadn't been sure he would tolerate it. She still wasn't sure. He had come when she called him, but now that he was here, she couldn't read him. She turned and started down the dune. "Will you walk me back to my cottage?"

  "Why not?" He fell into step beside her. "It's the first thing you've asked of me. I had to watch you going through that hell Ferguson set up for you, and I couldn't do a thing."

  "It wasn't pleasant, but it wasn't hell. I just had to hold on to the knowledge that it would eventually be over." She smiled faintly. "And it lightened the load seeing Ferguson so frustrated when he couldn't find any trace of that hammer among Staunton's belongings. He came up with
the three amulets facsimiles, a map, and a copy of the Book of Living but nothing else. No hammer. He traced Staunton's steps back six months just to be sure he wasn't missing something."

  "Has he given up?"

  "I have no idea. I think so. He's out of my life now. I want him to stay that way." She looked out at the sea. "I'm going back to work soon. I'm only here getting my head together. I rented this place be¬cause it was on the beach, and yet it had those ten acres of woods ad¬joining it." She nodded at the stretch of green in the distance. "Trees to climb, animals to photograph…"

  "As you did with your father. Is it bringing back memories?"

  "Yes. And they're all good. But you can't live on memories." She looked at him. "How is Irana?"

  "You haven't talked to her?"

  "No, you were the first person I called. She was going to be the second. What's she doing?"

  "Her hospital on Mykala is rebuilt now. She's fine-tuning the staff and equipment."

  "That's all?"

  "That's enough." He glanced at her curiously. "What did you ex¬pect?"

  She didn't know what she had expected. Irana would have done nothing hurriedly or without the deepest consideration. She might be going to act later… or not at all. As Emily had said, it was her choice.

  She answered his question with one of her own. "What about Pauley?"

  "Pauley is working with Irana on the island. He's been doing everything from keeping her labor force in line to in-depth research into some of her projects."

  Projects. What projects? Pauley and Irana? What an unusual and intriguing combination. What use could Irana have for-

  She suddenly went rigid as the answer came to her. "Dear God."

  "What's wrong?"

  She smiled brilliantly. "Nothing. Not one thing on the face of the earth. It just occurred to me that if you wanted to secretly and safely launder or distribute a billion or so dollars to charities, who would be better able to do it than Pauley?"

  "You think Irana has the treasure?"