Reap the Wind

by Iris Johansen

  “I don’t like it,” Kemal said flatly.

  “I didn’t like having the handlebars of your damn bicycle imprinted on my ass for the last twenty-four hours,” Chelsea said. “Sometimes we have to accept things we don’t like.”

  Alex’s eyes flicked open, and he sat upright in his chair. “Jesus!”

  “What?” Jonathan asked.

  “Hang up.” Alex jumped to his feet and strode across the room. “I’ve got to call McMillan.”

  Jonathan pressed the disconnect hook and handed Alex the receiver. “What about Peabody?”

  Alex quickly dialed the number of McMillan’s office at Langley. “We may not need him.”

  Charles Barney answered the phone when Alex reached CIA headquarters and immediately put him through to McMillan.

  “What now, Karazov? I’m beginning to feel—”

  Alex cut through McMillan’s sentence. “I have some questions to ask. Confidential questions. Is Barney still there in the office with you?”

  “Alex, what the—”

  “Is he?”

  “Yes.”

  “Send him away on an errand.”

  “I don’t like taking—”

  “Do it!”

  “You can’t order—” He broke off and Alex heard McMillan’s muffled voice as he turned his head away from the receiver. Then McMillan said into the phone, “I’ll give you two minutes, Karazov.”

  “Where’s the Krakow meeting to take place?”

  Silence. “How should I know? No U.S. dignitaries were invited.”

  “But you do know, don’t you? Twelve different countries with their corresponding security people descending on Istanbul. What a hell of a headache. How much better if they had a neutral party to handle it. Tell me, didn’t your office offer to act as a liaison to coordinate all their security measures?”

  Another silence. “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Barney thou—I thought it would be a diplomatic gesture and chalk up a few favors.”

  “Where and when?”

  “None of your goddamn business.”

  “No? It will be your business when Ledford makes corpses of half the members of the conference.”

  “It’s not going to happen. The security measures are foolproof.”

  Alex switched the subject. “Who else knew where I was in Paris?”

  “The man I had tailing you.”

  “And who else knew where I was in Istanbul?”

  “The doctor I sent to treat you.”

  “No one else?”

  “No.”

  “You’re wrong. Ledford knew. I find that curious when only your office knew where I was in Paris and Istanbul. In Paris there could have been a slip, but not in Istanbul. Yet suddenly Ledford knew my telephone number here too, even though it was under another name.”

  “Ledford was fired from the Company years ago.”

  “He told me he had his sources for information. What would be more reasonable than for him to maintain a valuable contact with the Company?”

  “You think it was me?” McMillan laughed, incredulous. “As much as I’d like to hang you out to dry, we both know I can’t do it.”

  “No, I don’t think it was you.” Alex paused. “I think it was Barney.”

  McMillan said flatly, “You’re crazy.”

  “Did Barney handle the arrangements for the Krakow meeting?”

  McMillan hesitated. “I handled them myself.”

  “For God’s sake, tell me the truth. You haven’t done any donkey work since the day I met you. Barney handles everything.”

  “Okay, Barney handled it. But you can’t think—”

  “Where?”

  McMillan hesitated and then muttered, “Troy. Krakow thought Cartwright would appreciate it if the meeting was held in a historical setting. He wanted to show her he respected antiquity even if he wants to form a new—”

  “When?” Alex interrupted.

  “Three o’clock today. The representatives are meeting in Canakkale. Krakow arranged for a bulletproof bus to take them all from Canakkale to Troy and then return them to the city after the meeting. It will arrive at two forty-five.”

  “Have you checked out the bus?”

  “Our people haven’t, but British security has gone over it with a fine-tooth comb. It’s as tight as a drum and strong as a tank. They’ll check it again before anyone is allowed to board. No problem.”

  “And the ruins?”

  “The road was corded off at midnight last night. The entire area is crawling with soldiers and security men. No one can get in or out without special papers.”

  “What if they’re already in?”

  “Couldn’t be. A ten-mile area around the ruins was searched before the roadblock was set up. I tell you, it’s foolproof.”

  “And I tell you it’s a setup. Barney is Ledford’s man.”

  “Barney?” He laughed incredulously. “I think you’re—what was that?”

  Alex had heard it too. The soft click of a receiver being hung up on another extension.

  Alex spoke sharply. “Get the hell out of there, McMillan. Then call British security and tell—”

  A soft pop on the other end of the line.

  The clatter of McMillan’s receiver as it fell from his hand onto the desk.

  “McMillan!”

  The receiver was carefully returned to the cradle and the connection broken.

  The last time Alex had heard that soft pop was when he was in the Spetznez. Once heard, the sound was unforgettable; the discharge of a pistol with a silencer.

  McMillan would not be calling British security or anyone else.

  Alex hung up the phone and turned to Jonathan. “McMillan’s out of it. The meeting is at Troy. Barney knows we’re on to Ledford, so he’ll alert security to stop us if we try to get near the place.” It was already nine forty-five. Less than six hours until the meeting and he didn’t know how they were going to get past the first checkpoint. “Jonathan, I need you to get the undersecretary to do one more thing for me.” He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the slip of paper with the number Ledford had called in Istanbul. “I need to know whose telephone number this is.”

  Jonathan took one glance at Alex’s set expression, turned, and left the room.

  Alex tried to keep his mind blank. He could be wrong. It was a variable. God, he hoped he was wrong.

  Jonathan came back in the room. “The number is listed to Kemal Nemid, 423 Street of the Turban Makers.”

  And Alex knew why he had been so reluctant to solve the puzzle. “My God.”

  “You didn’t expect it?”

  “I expected it. I hoped I was wrong. I asked McMillan to provide me with the name of an agent in Istanbul. He had Barney check on it for him.” He smiled bitterly. “It was easy for Barney to substitute Kemal’s name for the agent. Kemal is Ledford’s man in Istanbul.” Kemal, who was now supposedly protecting Caitlin from Ledford. Alex’s hand was shaking as he punched in the number for the Hilton. “Room 546.” He waited as the phone rang ten times. No one answered.

  Alex had a chilling sense of déjà vu. Five months before, he had stood like this, listening as a phone rang the night Ledford’s men had murdered Pavel.

  He slammed the phone down. “Come on, we’ve got to get back to the hotel.”

  “You can park here,” Kemal said. “It’s difficult getting an automobile up the street.”

  Chelsea looked up the narrow, twisting, cobbled street and nodded. “I can see why you ride a bicycle.”

  Kemal got out of the passenger seat of the Ford, opened the back door for Caitlin to get out of the car, and then came around to the driver’s door. “You will not change your mind and go back to the hotel?”

  Chelsea shook her head as she reached for the handle of the door. “No way.”

  Kemal looked at her thoughtfully. “That is too bad.” Kemal stepped forward, opened the door, and put his hand on Chelsea’s shoulder. “
But I thank you for—”

  Chelsea slumped forward onto the steering wheel, her hair a bright banner against the gray plastic.

  Caitlin rushed forward. “Chelsea, what’s wrong?” She glanced frantically at Kemal. “What’s—”

  “I don’t think it’s serious,” Kemal said softly. He grasped Caitlin’s arm and gently pushed her forward toward Chelsea. “See, her color’s good.”

  “She’s unconscious.” She scarcely felt the sharp pinprick as Kemal’s palm tightened on her forearm. “How can you say—”

  “Ah, how sorry I am, Caitlin,” Kemal murmured.

  He caught her with gentle hands as her knees buckled and she fell toward the ground.

  “Alex, my lad, it’s time for us to play the last act,” Ledford said as soon as Alex picked up the phone in his suite an hour later.

  “Where are they?” Alex asked.

  “You sound a bit tense. The ladies are both alive and will remain so if you obey instructions.”

  “They’re not at Kemal’s place. We’ve already been there.”

  “No, of course not. I’m surprised you even bothered to pay any attention to that note. As a matter of fact, they’re on their way here.”

  “Troy?”

  “Yes.” Ledford added briskly, “Kemal will meet you at the turnoff for Truve and bring you to me. Come at once.” He hung up the phone.

  Alex turned jerkily to face Jonathan. “He says they’re alive. I have to go to Troy.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “It may be a one-way ticket. I don’t have much to bargain with.”

  “I’m going with you,” Jonathan repeated. “How do we get there?”

  “We rent a jeep and meet Kemal at the turnoff for Troy.”

  Ledford strolled to the ramp where Hans was waiting. “It’s time for you to go, my boy,” he said gently. “You’ve chosen a good spot?”

  “Good enough.” Hans shrugged. “On the next hill. Plenty of ground cover.”

  “In range?”

  “I know my job.”

  “Of course you do.” Ledford smiled benignly. “After you rid us of Krakow, you come back to the tunnel and we hide out until the soldiers are gone and the coast is clear. Understand?”

  “I’m not stupid.” Hans tightened the straps of his black canvas backpack. “I take out Krakow and the explosion takes out the old lady and the delegation.” He glanced back at the room from which Ledford had come. “When are you going to start moving those paintings and stuff?”

  “Don’t you worry. Kemal is going to smuggle them out past the checkpoint in a military truck. You just do your part and trust me to take care of the rest.”

  When Caitlin woke, it was to see the emerald eyes of the Wind Dancer gazing enigmatically at her from across the room.

  A dream . . .

  Her heavy lids began to close again.

  “Wake up!” Someone was shaking her shoulder with more determination than gentleness.

  Caitlin opened her eyes again to see Chelsea gazing down at her.

  “Chelsea?”

  “Who else?” Chelsea said. “Snap out of it. We don’t have time for this.”

  It was just like Chelsea to ignore the fact that unconsciousness wasn’t something that could always be controlled. Caitlin shook her head to clear it as memory flooded back to her. “Kemal—”

  “Is a rat,” Chelsea said. “A king rat.”

  “There must be some mistake.” Kemal wouldn’t do this to them.

  “No mistake. He drugged us.”

  Caitlin looked around the small, dim chamber lit by a single lantern set on the dirt floor beside the table. She was lying on bare earth and the walls were paneled in rough boards. No windows. A cot was situated beside a door on the far side of the room, and a table and chair were located beside another door a few yards away. And on that table . . . the Wind Dancer.

  It hadn’t been a dream. The statue of the Wind Dancer dominated this small room with the same power as it had the mirrored hall at Versailles.

  Caitlin sat up, wrapping her arms across her chest to ward off the chill of the room. “It’s cold in here. Do you have any idea where we are?”

  “I just came to myself.” Chelsea shrugged. “I tried both doors, but they were locked.”

  Caitlin was beginning to think again. “Ledford. It has to be Ledford. He had the Wind Dancer.”

  “That’s what I figured. King rat Kemal must work for him.”

  “I can’t believe Kemal would do a thing like this,” Caitlin said. “Chelsea, I know him. He wouldn’t—” She stopped as she heard a key turn in the lock of the door across the room.

  A heavyset man came in. “Good afternoon, ladies. Permit me to introduce myself. I’m Brian Ledford.”

  He looked as ordinary in person as he had in the photograph Alex had given Caitlin—solid, robust, cheerful, not a monster at all.

  “I hope you’re not feeling groggy. Kemal assured me you’d have few aftereffects.” He checked his wristwatch. “You woke up exactly when he said you would. But then, I can always count on Kemal. In a world of bunglers, he positively shines with efficiency.”

  Caitlin suddenly felt colder as disappointment enveloped her. Betrayal. “Where are we?”

  “Haven’t you guessed? You’re in the tunnel for which you and Alex searched so diligently yesterday. Kemal tucked you neatly in the trunk of the rental car Ms. Benedict so kindly provided and got you here with no problem whatsoever.”

  “I suppose it’s foolish to ask why we’re here.”

  “Very.” Ledford smiled. “How else could I bring Alex into the fold without the danger of hurting him?” He turned to Chelsea. “Though you were an unexpected bonus. I should have known my friend Kemal would give me a dividend.”

  “And where is the little dividend maker?” Chelsea asked. “I’d like to split his stock.”

  Ledford’s laughter boomed out. “I knew you’d prove amusing. I sent Kemal to the crossroad to bring Alex through the checkpoint. British security is being most unwelcome to anyone without papers.” He turned to Caitlin. “Naturally, Alex will expect to trade for you, but I expect you’ll probably be gone by that time.”

  Caitlin tried to keep her expression unrevealing. “You’re going to kill us?”

  A flicker of grudging admiration crossed Ledford’s face as he studied her. “I was hoping you’d be more afraid. I should have known Alex wouldn’t be drawn by sex alone.”

  She was so afraid, she was sick to her stomach, but she couldn’t let him know it. “But you won’t kill Alex?”

  Ledford’s smile faded. “Not if he proves reasonable. I don’t want that to be the end of the game. You’re the one who’s been endangering him with your interference.”

  Chelsea asked, “Wouldn’t you do better to use us to bargain with? I’m worth a bundle.”

  “I’ll soon have all the money I could possibly want,” Ledford said. “But I’m a fair man. I’m not going to kill you without giving you a sporting chance.” His gaze turned to Caitlin. “I’m sure Alex must have told you how much I love games.”

  “He told me you were a murderer.”

  Ledford flinched. “And you, of course, fueled his anger against me.”

  “No fuel was needed. Why did you kill my mother?”

  “A great sorrow.” He smiled. “But you really shouldn’t have entered the match if you didn’t want to bet everything on the outcome.” He waved dismissively. “But that’s all in the past. We have a new set to play.” He casually drew a pistol from his jacket and pointed it at them. “I’ve prepared a little obstacle course for you to run.” He moved to the door beside the table. “Come here.”

  Neither woman moved.

  “Now, don’t be stubborn. I’m sure you’d both prefer a challenge to a sure thing.” He took a key from his pocket, unlocked the door, and pushed it open.

  Caitlin and Chelsea reluctantly moved forward to stand beside him. A blast of cold mold-laden air washed over Caitl
in. Darkness. No, not complete darkness. She could barely discern a pinpoint of light far in the distance.

  “Daylight,” Ledford said softly, his gaze following her own. “I was happy to find those ancient Trojans were very farseeing. The underground network is catacombed with offshoots from the original tunnel. This is by far the most interesting one. It greatly relieved me to know there was an emergency exit. You never know when you’re going to need an escape route.”

  “You’re offering us an escape route?” Chelsea asked skeptically.

  “You doubt me? Actually, you’re quite right to do so. You may never make it to the end of the tunnel. I’ve arranged a few surprises for you en route.”

  “And what if we choose to stay here?”

  “Then I shoot you.” Ledford beamed at them. “Take the tunnel and you have a chance to not only save your lives but that of the British delegation and become world-class heroines. Isn’t that exciting?”

  “Thrilling,” Chelsea said.

  “You see, the tunnel exits right below the Hisarlik plateau, where Krakow’s meeting is to take place.” He nodded as he saw Caitlin’s eyes widen. “Alex didn’t have a chance to tell you? The meeting is to take place in a bit under an hour. The members of the conference should be arriving by special bus quite soon, and Krakow will greet them very warmly and escort them on a tour of the ruins.” He paused. “Including that ludicrous counterfeit Trojan horse.” He grimaced. “What an abomination when you think that the Wind Dancer is the real Trojan horse. Guess what will be waiting for them when they climb the steps to the belly of that monstrosity?” He looked at both of them in anticipation.

  “Greeks bearing gifts?” Chelsea asked.

  Ledford’s laugh boomed out. “Wonderful. Actually, a German bearing gifts. Last night, before the soldiers arrived, I had my old friend Hans plant a charge in the head of the horse. It’s set to go off as soon as they’re in the belly of the statue.” He gestured expansively with wide-flung arms. “Boom!”

  “Including Krakow?” Caitlin asked.

  “No, he has no head for heights and won’t be going into the horse. I’ve planned something special for Krakow.” Ledford nodded. “I’ve known all along my friend Krakow was intending to eliminate me and the rest of my team as soon as the foul deed was done. It’s only sensible for me to act first. I paid off my other men and sent them on their way yesterday. Now there’s only me, Hans, and Kemal, and a very tidy cleanup plan.”