Deadly Memories

by Susan Vaughan

  She folded her arms. “If you kill Vadim, what about the uranium? It’s dangerous even if it’s hidden. How will they find it?”

  The possibilities hit him in the gut. Saqr wouldn’t get the nuke, but somebody else might. What if other terrorists got hold of it? What if an innocent civilian found it and opened it? Or a child?

  Jack sank into the nearest chair. “Sophie, when you’re right, you’re right. I need more information about Vadim and the uranium before I can go after him.”

  She leaned back, apparently satisfied she’d convinced him to stay.

  He would. For now.

  He saw her eyelashes flutter lower and lower. He should carry her up to bed, but questions lingered. “You were a pro in Fiorasole today. I’ll never forget the sight of you sitting on ole Tomasso.”

  “You can believe I’ll never forget it either.”

  “You listened to their conversation a long time. They might’ve let slip something useful before Tomasso prepared to shoot us.” An involuntary shudder ripped through him at the thought of a bullet tearing into Sophie’s tender flesh.

  “Shoot you, not me.” She sat up, yawning.

  “What?” A hunch raised the hairs on his neck.

  “That’s why I tried to warn you. Or maybe you understood when he put the silencer on. Tomasso said they were going to shoot you and take me with them.”

  He leaped the hurdle to join her on the sofa. “Where? Where were they going to take you? To Vadim?”

  She arched her back, stretching like a cat. A tired cat. “Vadim? No. Let me think.”

  “Go back over the conversation. Try to remember his exact words.”

  She closed her eyes as she seemed to replay the overheard dialogue on her mind’s recorder.

  Anticipation and worry congealed in his mind. Too many times he’d thought he had a break, only to reach a dead end.

  Sophie’s eyes flew open. “I remember something. Maybe it’s important. He said, ‘She’ll take us to it.’”

  “It. What—the uranium?” Jack leaped to his feet and pulled her up to face him. He held on to her hands, letting her softness remind him not to push her too hard. “Then you do know where the uranium is.”

  “Or they think I do.”

  Dragging fingers through his hair, he considered. “It can’t be just their idea. Vadim has to have told them you have it. But where? Your bags were checked. The Geiger counter and the other detectors found only traces of radiation around the house, enough to indicate the uranium had been there, but not enough to locate it inside a thick lead casing. Besides, it’d be very heavy.”

  But it wouldn’t take up much room.

  Suddenly he knew.

  His heart hammered at his rib cage. He was a dumb fool. How could he have missed it?

  “Oh, my God!” Alarm glazed Sophie’s eyes to a deer-in-the-headlights stare. All color drained from her face as her fingers clamped his in a death grip.

  He saw that she’d realized the same thing. “Sophie?”

  “Heavy as a marble statuette?”

  “Heavy as hell.”

  “It seemed heavier than it should be.”

  “You carried it in that tote all this time. His first errand boys might’ve intended to kill us with the gasoline. I bet it wasn’t until later that Vadim learned you’d taken the statuette. That explains why the other attacks didn’t escalate to explosives and incendiary devices. He gave orders not to damage the goods.”

  Apprehension pinched her mouth. “Maybe it was damaged. The cracked base where the bullet struck, do you think—”

  He pulled her close, wrapped her in his arms. “No, it’s all right. By this time, you—we’d be feeling sick if any radiation had leaked.” He thought.

  By God, he hoped that was true. He’d been so focused on getting Vadim that he hadn’t paid close attention to the briefings on radiation dangers.

  “You should call someone, shouldn’t you?”

  From the strain in her voice, he knew she wanted the danger removed as quickly as possible. So did he. “Yeah, De Carlo will send a Haz-Mat team—uh, a hazardous-materials disposal team—to check for radiation and carry it away. I’m afraid you’ll have to give up Saint Elizabeth.”

  “Boh, as the Italians say. None of my computer searches found her. I don’t think there is a Rinaldi saint. The figure’s some other saint. The antique dealer cheated me.”

  “Or Vadim set you up. It looks like he was going to use you to transport the uranium out of the country.”

  Would he have instructed Saqr to steal it from her? What would he care if she were killed in the process?

  A fire-breathing dragon roared up within Jack. De Carlo was right. No easy death for Vadim.

  She nodded sad agreement. “What do we do now?”

  Tiredness smudged violet around her beautiful eyes. Her shoulders sagged. The day’s adventure and her fierce attack on his defenses had drained her.

  Time to take charge and care for her.

  He breathed deeply, banking his fury. Kissing her gently, he savored her sweet-as-honey taste and her delicate scent. “I’ll call De Carlo. You go upstairs and move your stuff into another bedroom. Don’t touch the statuette.”

  “I never want to see it again.” Sophie headed for the hallway and the stairs.

  He’d hidden the uranium in her saint.

  The sheer gall and coldness of the man made Sophie’s head ache. She’d been helpless and he’d tricked her. Conned her. Did she buy the figure or did he give her the one thing she couldn’t resist to use her for his greedy and ruthless ends?

  And then she’d hoped the little icon would help her in her search for family and ancestors.

  What Jack had said popped into her brain. Ancestral tea leaves? Was that what she was doing?

  Sophie trudged from the stairwell down the hall to the master bedroom. Her heart ached as if a big hand had reached inside and wrung it like a dish towel.

  Had she wasted time looking for relatives in Florence and Rome? If she’d found any, what did that prove? Look inside yourself. Her advice to Jack applied to herself, as well. She had some thinking to do.

  In the bedroom Sophie avoided glancing toward Santa Elisabetta and made a beeline to her luggage.

  She kicked the twenty-four-incher. Not her luggage. The Versace suitcases were bought for her by Sebastian Vadim. Like the designer boutique clothing.

  Like the marble saint stuffed with uranium.

  She slammed the suitcase onto the bed and gathered garments from the armoire and tossed them in. At the first opportunity she’d give it all to Catholic Social Services.

  Among her toiletries in the bureau she found the business card that had accompanied the statuette. Tears pricked her eyes. Her hand curled into a fist, crumpling the card. She spun on her heels and glared at the little saint.

  Light from the table lamp reflected on the marble and seemed to make it glow. Radiation? No, just a reflection. But then she saw…she saw…

  Everything.

  She’d been existing deep beneath the sea, remembered sounds muted, images blurred. She burst to the surface. The clarity hit her in a glaring ray.

  Images scrolled through her mind, not distant mirages but full scenes. Echoes like the flutter of bird wings dialed to full volume. Memories darted, hammered her from all sides.

  Sophie’s limbs drained of strength. She clutched at the edge of the bed.

  She remembered.

  In the office. The statuette. The phone call.

  Running.

  Terror.

  Emotions battered her. Rage. Fear. Anguish.

  The bottom dropped out of her stomach. Her brain spun so fast that her legs buckled and she fell to her knees sobbing.

  Chapter 16

  Jack disconnected and closed the sat phone.

  De Carlo had said rounding up a Haz-Mat team would take time. He looked at his watch. They could arrive anytime between midnight and dawn. Hours to wait.

  Was Sophie a
ll right? After the uranium eureka moment, she’d left the room dragging like a kicked kitten.

  He went to the foot of the stairs and listened. From the bedroom he heard slamming. Drawers. A door. The armoire. She was mad. Good. About time.

  That emotion Jack could handle.

  His stomach announced the late hour, so he wandered into the kitchen to see what he could rustle up for supper. Sophie’d been a cooking fool the past few days. There must be plenty of leftovers.

  From the fridge he rooted out containers of ravioli, sautéed vegetables and thin slices of rolled-up prosciutto. A bottle of wine was all he needed to top off the meal. He peered in the plastic containers, shrugged and dumped everything into one saucepan. Why not? They’d all go into the mouth together.

  He’d just turned the gas flame to low under the pan when a loud thump from upstairs jerked his head up.

  Too solid for a suitcase, and she wouldn’t touch the statuette. Would she? What the hell?

  He dashed for the stairs and took them three at a time. “Sophie!”

  He skidded to a halt in the doorway when he saw her crumpled on the throw rug beside the bed. Tears streamed down her flushed cheeks.

  He knelt and curved an arm around her shaking shoulders. “Sophie, what is it?”

  “Oh, Jack,” she choked out on a sob, “I remember…that day…all of it.”

  Her memory had returned. He glanced at the marble saint, standing in bogus banality on its little table. The revelation must’ve triggered the memory recovery.

  Murmuring soothing words, he gathered her up. She might have a steel core, but in his arms she felt as fragile as the ethereal sprite she appeared. He carried her down the hall to the smaller bedroom where he kept his stuff. He set her on the antique wrought-iron bed and handed her tissues. He stood by, not knowing what to do with his hands.

  Not knowing what the hell to do, period.

  What should he do but wait? He never knew what to do with a crying female. Tonia had used tears to manipulate him, but Sophie’s were all too real.

  She got to him down deep. Seeing her so distraught stabbed him like a hot needle. She was vulnerable and tough, impulsive yet steady. He loved her zest for life. Her loving heart challenged him like a nagging conscience. She forced him to confront conflicts he didn’t know he had. She made him look inward and examine his damn emotions. His chest tightened with a tenderness that unnerved him.

  He cared for her.

  A lot.

  More than he’d ever thought he could care for a woman.

  But it had to stop at that. He had an obligation to fulfill, and she wanted no strings. Even if she did, she’d want more from him than he had to give.

  In a few moments Sophie sniffled and gave him a shaky smile. “The memories rushed back like a tornado in my head. It overwhelmed me, I guess. I’m all right now.”

  “Sure you are.” Chest burning with an ache to know everything she remembered, Jack sat beside her on the bed.

  “I want to tell you about what happened, why Vadim tried to kill me.” Her eyelids were puffy from crying, but her irises were clear and calm.

  Talking about Vadim’s hit-and-run might sweep away the last of her fears. And tell him his enemy’s location.

  Once the Haz-Mat team verified that the figure contained the uranium, there would be nothing to stop him from going after Vadim. “I’m listening.”

  Sophie leaned against him, her bare arm against his. She savored the clean scent of his sun-warmed skin, his hardness and warmth against her. His touch would strengthen her as she put the disjointed images together to tell him.

  “I was to fly to Paris that day, June fifth, then take the Eurostar Chunnel train to London three days later and fly home from there. At breakfast Vadim had a present for me.”

  “The saint.” On the side away from Sophie, Jack clenched his fist as though preparing to ram it into Vadim’s face.

  “Got it in one.” She smiled. Now that the storm in her brain had ended, she regained a modicum of calm. “I was thrilled and touched that he’d gone to such trouble. I took the saint upstairs and set her beside the bed while I packed.”

  “Where we found her later.”

  “Exactly. The saint was too valuable a gift to accept, but I couldn’t bring myself to refuse her.”

  “How could you refuse the family saint? He knew that.”

  She nodded. “I decided I would give him something special. I was going to order a case of his favorite local vintage from the village wine shop. Mom had wired me money for traveler’s checks, the ones you found. There’s no telephone in that bedroom, so I went downstairs to use the phone in the sitting room.”

  He turned, blue eyes laser-focused, trademark scowl in place, clearly anxious for what came next. “But you didn’t.”

  She shook her head, tucked behind her ear loose tendrils of hair. “When I picked up the receiver, I heard Vadim’s voice.” Her shoulders raised in a hunched shudder. “He was plotting with…that terrorist. About me.”

  “The terrorist. Ahmed Saqr?”

  “That’s the name. You were right that I was the ignorant courier. I was to take the uranium as far as London. It was to go on to New York, but they didn’t say how.”

  “Probably a container ship. Less chance of detection than by airplane.” He rubbed his chin. “Vadim’s scrambler allowed him the security to discuss the plan on the phone. He didn’t count on you picking up the extension.”

  She pressed a hand to her stomach to calm it. “I had the impression Vadim helped devise the plan, even pushed it, but I didn’t hear their target.”

  “Byrne told me. His snitch came through yesterday. The plan was to set off a dirty bomb in the diamond district.”

  “But that’s horrible! Why?”

  “Damn, I see Vadim’s part in this,” Jack said, fury contorting his mouth. “Saqr’s radioactive explosion would strike at what he views as Western decadence and materialism. Hundreds, maybe thousands of people would die. Contamination would virtually entomb diamond trading records and diamonds for years. The economic chaos would affect thousands, maybe millions. It would devastate the legitimate diamond trade.”

  “I get it. Vadim could step in with his smuggled diamonds and take over the industry.”

  “Damn evil bastard!” Jack seemed to swallow further invectives. He sucked in a breath through his teeth and turned to her. Gentle concern in his eyes, he cupped her cheek. “And he caught you in the middle of his web.”

  She leaned into his rough palm. Reaching behind her with his other hand, he unclipped her hair and finger-combed it loose. When he began kneading her tight neck muscles, she nearly purred.

  He might not express his feelings in words, but these small touches of comfort showed that he cared. She wondered if he realized.

  “Did he hear you on the extension?” he said.

  Her shoulders trembled in an involuntary shudder. “I must’ve made a noise. I was so shocked. When I knew he heard me, I hung up. I didn’t know what to do. I had nowhere to hide.” She recalled being too frightened to think clearly. “So I just…ran.”

  “The way Vadim went after you finally makes sense. He chased you down then because you could blow his plans out of the water.”

  “Later he had to make sure he could get the uranium-stuffed saint before he had his men, um, kill us.” A niggling suspicion jarred her pulse, and she turned to face him. “Oh, Jack, do you think he knows why you’re after him?”

  He scowled, clearly thinking the notion over, but then shook his head. “I don’t see how. But back to that day—do you remember him chasing you?”

  She conjured up the events after her escape from the house. Tears flowed along with the memory, but the ending came up blank. “Yes, but not the actual impact.”

  “The doctor said you might not. Just as well.”

  “I remember charging down the driveway. The crunch of gravel behind me. And voices shouting in Italian and in English. That was you?”

/>   “That was me.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “Is that everything?”

  Sophie knew what he wanted to hear. She temporized by mopping her eyes with the tissue.

  Jack was honorable and idealistic. He believed he had to seek vengeance, but in the end he wouldn’t go through with murder. She wanted to trust him, needed to trust him.

  After blowing her nose, she said, “I remember another outing to Venice. We spent the night at a palazzo in Santa Croce. Vadim said it belonged to a friend named Moretta, but he seemed very at home there.”

  “I doubt Vadim has friends. Moretta could be another alias. Interpol and the task force don’t have the name. The Santa Croce district, huh? Where exactly is the palazzo?”

  “On the Fondamenta Aldo.” She paused but decided to tell him everything. “I don’t know the address, but it’s a faded rose-brick with wrought-iron balconies. What will you do?”

  He kissed her again, gently on the lips this time. “I will bring your suitcases in here before I go check on dinner. I will ply you with food and Chianti and tuck you in bed. Then I’ll wait up for the Haz-Mat guys.”

  Sophie watched Jack leave the room.

  He hadn’t said he would phone the task force about the Santa Croce palazzo. Would he throw away his life for revenge? Or did he listen to her arguments?

  Feeling his pain had prompted her to stand up to him.

  And for him.

  Was that all she could do? Should she admit she’d fallen in love with him? Would that change anything? Probably not, since he didn’t love her. He cared, but that was all. He wouldn’t let himself feel more.

  Telling him she loved him would make no difference except to load on more guilt.

  She had no answers, only screaming nerves and a heart wrenched by a wringer of doubt, fear and love—too many emotions to sort out.

  Love hurt the most.

  Love should be filled with joy and smiles, not pain and tears. Why did she have to fall in love with this man? She didn’t want love if it made her heart ache like this.

  A shower wouldn’t help much, but perhaps it would cleanse the grimy feelings brought on by remembering Vadim’s dirty manipulations. Gathering up her hair in the discarded comb clip, she scooted off the bed and headed to the bathroom.