This time, she swore she heard a whoop from Bax over her own giddy scream, though she couldn’t be sure.
Joss was still laughing when the car wheeled into the station, even as she pushed her hair back out of her eyes.
She looked over at Bax. His hair was in disarray, his collar was flipped up from the wind of the car’s passage.
For the first time since she’d known him, that tense, watchful look was gone from his face.
“Satisfied?” he asked, taking his hand off the safety bar and flexing his fingers.
Joss grinned at him. “Don’t give me that. You had fun and you know it.”
He gave a sudden laugh, looking younger than she’d ever seen him. “You’re right. Let’s go again.”
13
BAX STOOD IN LINE at the café next to Karl XII’s torg wearing shorts and a T-shirt, still damp from his five mile run. When he went too many days without working out, he started to feel sludgy and slow. Not healthy, for a man in his line of work.
He was still too hot to think about going back inside for coffee, though. And even if he were, he had a pretty good idea that the café at the Royal Viking would disapprove of his current state. So he’d stopped at the outdoor café, instead.
The server turned to him. “Hej.”
“Hej,” he replied, ordering coffee in Swedish.
“You’ve picked up the language quickly, but then you were always very good in Danish,” said a voice behind him. Bax turned to see Markus.
“I’m very good in English, too. Do you want coffee?”
“Yes, thank you. I see you have been running.”
“I’ve got nothing else to do while I’m waiting for you and Silverhielm to get your acts in gear. Besides, Stockholm is a beautiful city. I may as well see some of it while I’m here.”
“But you saw it all when you were here before.”
Bax paid for the drinks and handed Markus his cup. By unspoken accord, they walked out to the tables.
“Back then my tastes were less…refined, shall we say.”
“And now your tastes run more to tour boats than strip clubs?”
It didn’t surprise him that they’d been watching. “And did your man like the tour?”
“He did not join you. He would have enjoyed the strip club more.” Markus stopped to doctor his coffee with cream.
“I’m sure.”
“You never cared for them, though, did you?”
Bax shrugged. “Not my call. When that’s where the boss wants to set up to do his business, you do it.”
“But he is your boss no longer.”
“No.” Bax eyed him. “You’ve changed as well.”
“Yes. I have, as you Americans say, traded up.”
“A smart man.”
“You are a smart man also, Johan and you puzzle me. Your current client is not exactly up to your usual standards.”
They reached a table and pulled out chairs to sit. “Do you make a study of my clients?”
“You have a certain reputation among our community. Or had. You disappeared.” Markus took a drink of his coffee.
“I went to Miami for business and wound up staying on.” And he had an acquaintance who would back up that story, if necessary.
Markus gave him a steady look. “For a man with your talents, I am sure there is work everywhere you go.”
“As there is for you.”
“Yes, but I prefer the familiar. So how did you wind up with the woman?”
Bax gave him an amused look. “You certainly get right to it.”
“Do you blame me? You were not, I assume, surprised to find me working for Silverhielm.”
“Not a bit.”
“No,” Markus agreed. “I have worked for many like him in the past, several that you know of.”
“Several I didn’t understand how you could tolerate.”
“The price was right. And you, I could see you winding up in Miami. Or in Las Vegas, wasn’t that where you met her?”
“It was.”
“There are a number of men in that city who would find your services useful and pay you handsomely. Yet you are with the woman. Why?”
Bax grinned. “You’ve seen her and you have to ask that?”
“I have seen many beautiful women but none who would stand between me and money.”
“Who says she stands between me and money? I stand to make a nice profit once we pull off the exchange.”
“A trifle and you know it,” Markus said contemptuously. “You are too smart to let your appetites control your professional life. Why are you here?”
“A favor for a lady, a free trip back to Europe and a nice fat commission.”
“I don’t believe that.”
Bax took a swallow of his coffee. “And a chance to set myself up for my next job.”
Markus looked at him consideringly. “That, I am more likely to believe. How did you find out about the stamp?”
“I happened to be at the right place at the right time and overheard a few things.”
“Including my employer’s name?”
“Including that. Including a description of someone who sounded a lot like you. I thought it couldn’t hurt to come over and check it out. At worst, it is a paid vacation. At best, a chance to do a little career networking.”
“Ah, now we come closer to the truth.”
Bax let the humor fall away. “You and your employer have indicated an interest in me.”
“An interest in your talents, yes. Mr. Silverhielm would like to know if they are for hire.”
“He doesn’t know the first thing about me.”
“But I do.”
“And that is enough?”
“In such matters, yes.”
And suddenly Bax felt as though he were back undercover, when the objectives were clear but day to day life was ambiguous.
“What would I have to do?”
Markus smiled faintly. “Provide your usual sort of services.”
“Does he have something specific in mind?”
“It is difficult to say. Mr. Silverhielm has his fingers in many pies, you might say. He wishes to have you on his team. I think you will not find his terms ungenerous.”
“How not ungenerous?”
“He prefers to tell you such things himself.”
“When?” The dance, the constant dance frustrated Bax.
“Perhaps in a day or so.”
“First, we exchange the stamp.”
“Of course. But there is no reason we cannot move forward down both paths, is there?”
Now it began to make sense. “Don’t think that by offering me a job you’ll have an easier time getting the Blue Mauritius.”
“Of course not.” Markus snorted. “I know better.”
“So Silverhielm’s ready to name a time and a place?”
“Always impatient.”
“My client is impatient,” Bax corrected. “Where and when?”
“You set terms for the last meeting. It is our turn.”
“So what do you choose?”
Markus watched the steam rise off his coffee and glanced up at Bax. “Our territory. Mr. Silverhielm’s home.”
“Out on the archipelago?”
Markus didn’t show surprise, but then again he wouldn’t. “You have done your homework.”
“As you no doubt expected.”
“Then I shouldn’t need to give you directions or arrange for your transportation.”
A challenge, perhaps. Or a test. “We’ll find our way.”
Markus rose, taking his coffee with him. “Mr. Silverhielm will expect you on Saturday evening at seven-thirty. We will make our exchange and perhaps talk a little business.”
“I look forward to it.”
JOSS WAS AT the bathroom mirror putting on lipstick when her cell phone rang. She walked out into the bedroom to grab the slim phone from the bedside table. “Hello?”
“Joss. Ray Halliday.”
She c
ounted to three. It didn’t do to look too eager. “Ray, how are you?”
“Today’s the last day of the expo. I’m doing great.”
“Ready to go home?”
“You know it. Hey listen, can you get over here before ten?”
Joss blinked. “You mean to the convention center?”
“Yeah.”
She checked her watch. “It’s already nine. Bax is out and I’m not sure when he’ll be back. Can we be a little later?”
“Not really. There’s someone I want you to meet before the show starts. He might be able to help you out with…your problem.”
She chewed the inside of her lip. This was an opportunity they couldn’t afford to squander, whether Bax was there or not. “I don’t know where Bax is, but I can come over now.”
“Great. I’ll see you then.”
The last thing she wanted to do was run out while Bax was gone. This was just what they’d talked about. Bax would go ballistic if he came back and found her gone, Joss knew that. She dialed his cell phone number, only to hear the answering ring across the room, on his night table. Okay, so calling him was out. Now what was she supposed to do? Hang around, maybe miss the meeting with Ray? Or go to the meeting and fill Bax in later?
It was no contest. Reality was, she’d made the decision the minute Ray asked her to come out. The important thing was that she do what was necessary to get the stamps back. If it meant taking a risk, so be it. If it meant letting Bax down, she’d deal with his anger. It was what he got for forgetting his phone.
To salve her conscience, she scribbled a hasty note and left it on the bed. He wouldn’t like it, but it was the best she could do. Shoving a handful of kroner and her transportation card in the back pocket of her jeans, she grabbed her key and cell phone and headed out the door.
It was still early enough that the ornate lobby was nearly empty. The people with morning plans were gone. Those checking out hadn’t come down yet. In the front café, a trio of men in sober chalk-striped business suits held a breakfast meeting. A woman with a dog on a leash walked toward the elevator. On one of the gold padded benches by the door, a guy in jeans and a tweed jacket read the newspaper. And Bax was nowhere in sight.
Joss stood for a moment. She couldn’t afford to wait for Bax to return, she thought desperately. In her shoes, he’d do the same thing. She checked her watch again. Be here in an hour, Ray had said.
It was time to go.
Outside, puffs of white clouds dotted the cerulean sky. In a perfect world, she’d have made the leisurely walk to the central train station, enjoying the clean streets and the morning cool of the air as she went. Today, she didn’t have time. Instead, she headed directly for the Tunnelbana station a few blocks from the hotel. The subway would take her to Central Station and a fifteen-minute ride on the commuter rail would bring her to the convention center.
At least the morning rush hour was over. She wouldn’t be fighting with a mob of commuters, not that all that many commuters probably lived in this exclusive tourist district. Indeed, she found herself alone as she clattered down the stairs to the station. Behind her, she heard the soft slap of footsteps. Okay, maybe the commute wasn’t quite over, she thought as she walked onto the empty platform. Even in Sweden there were laggards.
The glare from overhead fluorescent lights reflected off the concrete of the platform. Joss blinked and frowned. Something was strange. The footsteps, she realized. They’d stopped without anyone ever appearing in the station. Perhaps the commuter had decided to go back home and to bed, she speculated. Then again, she hadn’t heard the sound of someone climbing back up to the street.
The hairs on the back of her neck prickled.
It was ridiculous, of course. It was broad daylight, midmorning. No one was going to bother her, not down here.
Still she breathed a little sigh of relief when she heard the distant rumble of the approaching train. Clean and open though it was, the empty station was a little too creepy for her. Any second, a train, other people, would be here. And maybe once she was on the train, she could stop wondering about those footsteps.
The rumbling intensified. It swelled to a roar, crescendoed, and a bullet of silver burst along the tracks. Shining and sleek, the cars slid smoothly to a stop, the doors snapping open.
Only a handful of people sat in the car nearest to her, newspapers open on their laps. Just working people on their way to the office. Just another normal day. For a moment, she felt incredibly foolish. She’d been dealing with the cloak-and-dagger world too much. Bax’s constant alertness had rubbed off on her.
With an inner smile, Joss moved to board the train. Then the faint echo of a shout from outside the station had her looking reflexively toward the stairs that led to the street.
And she saw the tweed-jacketed guy from the hotel walking toward her.
BAX WAS WAITING to cross at the light, the Royal Viking just ahead when he caught the flash of scarlet far down the street, the scarlet of Joss’s jacket below the dark cloud of her hair. She was walking quickly, head down. On the building before her he saw the encircled black T, the sign for the Tunnelbana.
Consternation surged through him. She knew better than to run out on her own. So what did that mean? Was it just an errand? Was it something too important to miss? Had Markus ignored him and gotten to her? For an instant, Bax stood indecisively. She was too far away for him to reasonably expect to catch up with her, yet he didn’t want to let her go.
Then his gaze snagged on a man paralleling her course. A man who kept pace with her from across the street, turning his head and shoving his hands in his pockets when she glanced up.
Doing his best to be inconspicuous.
Bax was walking before he realized it, breaking into a run when he saw Joss disappear into the entrance to the T-bana station. The man sped up now, crossing the street and moving swiftly after her. An errant breeze off the water caught at his jacket, molding it against him, outlining a bulky shape at his hip that had nothing to do with the human anatomy, a bulky shape that was deadly metal.
And Bax began to sprint.
IT PROBABLY didn’t mean anything, Joss told herself as the train rumbled out of the station. After all, if the guy in the tweed jacket was staying at the hotel, it made sense that he’d go to the nearest T-bana stop. But why alone, and so suddenly after he’d been loitering in the lobby? What if it weren’t just coincidence that he’d decided to put down his paper and go for a ride?
What if he was following her?
It was something she simply couldn’t afford. And so, when she got out of the train, she purposely took her time walking down the platform. He stepped out ahead of her and she stopped to study one of the enormous street maps of the area that stood against the wall. It wouldn’t hurt to stay behind and keep an eye on him. It was what Bax would do.
The walls of the tunnels were rough hewn, rising up to shadowed arches high overhead. All the lights in the world couldn’t make the platform bright. For some reason, she thought of an old movie version of H.G. Wells’s Time Machine, with its Morlocks and subterranean dangers.
Ahead of her, Tweed Jacket walked briskly to the end of the platform and out of sight. She really was getting paranoid, Joss told herself. Clearly, he was just a tourist headed out for the day. Why shouldn’t he be alone? She was worried about nothing. If Bax thought there was a risk of them being tailed, he surely would have said something.
Then again, he hadn’t been expecting her to go out.
Joss made her way to the end of the platform. Tweed Jacket was off to whatever adventure he was having next and she was off to the convention center and the meeting with Ray. She turned into the first of the series of tunnels that would lead her through the levels of the Tunnelbana and eventually to the commuter rail station.
The Blue Line that she’d ridden in on was the deepest of the three lines that intersected at Central Station. She worked her way along moving walkways that carried her up gradual rises until
she reached the long escalator that would bring her toward the higher platforms.
Here, the walls were plastered with ads for kitchen tools and department-store sales, interspersed with scenic tourist-board photographs of Götland. Joss looked across at the line of matching ads flanking the down escalator opposite her. Idly, she glanced back, down the steep slant of the moving stair.
And saw Tweed Jacket riding the escalator below her.
14
BAX BURST INTO the room at the Royal Viking. It was empty, as he’d expected. As the T-bana station had been empty when he’d raced down the stairs, lungs burning, only to find the train long gone. Over his head, an electronic sign in mocking red had told him to expect a train in four minutes. He hadn’t bothered to wait. With no idea of where Joss was going, there was no point.
Instead, he’d run back to the hotel.
Now, he grabbed the note from the bureau, reading it with a curse. He crumpled it and threw it down, snatching up the cell phone. There was no answer to his call. Small surprise. Joss was probably too far underground to get a signal. If the phone wasn’t ringing, she wasn’t about to answer.
Or maybe she couldn’t.
He refused to give in to the cold crush of fear that filled his gut and instead concentrated on what he could do. The note said she’d gone to the expo. Bax tore off his running clothes and reached for jeans.
THE ESCALATOR moved inexorably upward. Casually, Joss stared at the advertising signs across the way, watching Tweed Jacket with her peripheral vision, her heart pounding. The instant she’d turned to see him, he’d shifted as well, looking downward, making himself innocuous. He was there, behind her, where he had no business being. She’d walked off the platform behind him, she’d made sure of it, and now he was behind her again.
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