Countdown

by Iris Johansen

  “You’ll never be able to get away with it,” Jane said.

  “But I will. You don’t understand. It’s a different world, and wars are different too. The man who can control the mind and will can do anything. Those soldiers in Iraq aren’t afraid of regular combat, but they’re terrified of a man who will wander in to a mess tent and blow himself up. A suicide with the right papers and cover is everyone’s worst nightmare.” He tapped his chest. “I’m their worst nightmare.”

  “The CIA will pick you up before you get out of the country.”

  Reilly shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

  “The helicopter should be here in five minutes.” Kim came back in the room carrying a large briefcase. “I have all the psychological subject files. Should I pack up those historical documents?”

  “No, I’ll do it myself. I want to show my collection to the lady.”

  “We don’t have time to pack up all those artifacts. You’ll have to leave them.”

  “No, I’ll take the coins and tell Norton to pack the rest up and take them across the border for a pickup.” He held out his hand to Jane. “Come along. I want you to see my collection.”

  “I’m not interested.”

  “You will be. You’ll be very interested before I’m done with you.”

  “No, I won’t. You couldn’t make me do anything.” She stared him in the eye. “And you can’t make me remember something I never knew. You’re crazy if you believe that.”

  “We’ll see. The more I’m with you the more eager I am to get started.” He opened the door and gestured for her to go inside the room. “You’re going to prove very interesting. How many women could have managed to kill Mario Donato? As for the gold, look at your behavior pattern in the last years. You’re completely fascinated by Cira. Those archaeological expeditions to digs in Herculaneum, your obsession with the scrolls. Every day you look in the mirror and see her. Perhaps deep down you want to protect her and her gold. Maybe you know where it is and are being selfish. Or you may have stumbled on the clue that can lead us to it and won’t admit it to yourself.” He smiled. “But I can correct that given enough time. I can do almost anything.” His eyes glittered with pleasure. “And then the fun begins.”

  She felt a cold chill. He’d almost convinced her he could do it. And the frightening thing was that he didn’t know how close she was to Cira. He didn’t know about the dreams. . . . “Very flimsy reasoning, Reilly. I can’t believe you’d actually make a deal with Mario to bring me here when there’s no evidence I know anything at all.”

  “Believe it. And there is evidence. Come look at Cira’s world.” He gestured at the softly lit shelves that gave off an ambient glow across the room. “I’ve been collecting artifacts from Herculaneum and Pompeii for the last twenty years.”

  And it was an impressive collection, she thought, as she saw a multitude of various artifacts that included bowls, crude knives, scrolls, and stone reliefs depicting exaggerated sexual acts. “You’d have gotten a lot of pleasure from Julius Precebio’s scrolls,” she said dryly. “He was into porn too.”

  “It was his right. The master always sets the rules. And I do identify with Precebio. We have a lot in common.” He led her forward. “But you’ve missed the most interesting exhibit.” He nodded at the stand in front of her. “Your personal contribution.”

  “What the devil are you—” She inhaled sharply. “My God.”

  Her sketchbook. The one Trevor had stolen from her two years ago. She’d only been concerned about the sketches of Trevor, afraid that it would reveal her feelings for him. She hadn’t remembered this sketch that Reilly had chosen to place on exhibition.

  “Extraordinary, isn’t it?” Reilly murmured. “The detail is so minute that it would be incredible for at least part of it not to have been sketched from real life.”

  It was a sketch of Cira, one of the many she’d done since she’d come back from Herculaneum four years ago. Cira was standing in profile in the doorway of a room with rocky walls and ledges on which various vases, bowls, and jewels were placed. On a ledge farther away, displayed by itself, was an open chest overflowing with gold coins.

  She moistened her lips. “Real life? Sorry, I wasn’t around to sketch Cira two thousand years ago.”

  “But you might have found where she hid that chest and sketched the place.”

  “That’s crazy. The sketch was purely imaginary.”

  “Perhaps. But I’ve been studying that sketch closely for weeks. I did a lot of research, and those striations in the rocks are found in formations in Italy near Herculaneum. As I said, the detail is truly amazing.”

  “Where did you get my sketchbook?”

  “Grozak stole it from Trevor’s hotel room and sent it to me. He thought it might intrigue me.” He smiled. “It did. It raised all kinds of interesting possibilities.”

  “Listen, I don’t know anything about that gold.”

  “We’ll see. In a few weeks I’ll know everything you know.”

  He gestured at the glass case in the center of the shelf. “Some of those coins are worth a fortune, but I’ve never found the one that the whole world would envy me having. It’s been my dream for years. You just may be able to provide me with that final triumph.”

  “What?”

  “A coin from the purse given to Judas for betraying Christ could be among the gold in that chest.”

  “That’s crap.”

  He nodded at the book on display on his shelf. “Not according to rumors that have drifted down through the centuries. What a coup that would be.” He smiled. “I’ll have it all. The gold, the fame, Cira’s statue that Trevor stole from me.”

  “You’ll have a hard time stealing that from North Korea.”

  “Not really. I have people all over the world who only want to do whatever I wish.”

  “By that time MacDuff will have taken the statue for himself. He’s as obsessed with Cira as everyone else.”

  “I know. He almost got in my way a couple years ago when we went after the same document.”

  “What document?”

  He nodded at the file case in a corner of the bottom shelf. “I have the original in a specially sealed case, but the translation is there. It opened a brand-new school of thought to me regarding Cira and the gold.” He smiled. “If you’re good, I may let you see the translation during one of the latter stages in your training.”

  She stiffened. “I won’t be good, you son of a bitch. I won’t do anything you tell me.”

  He clucked softly. “Such disrespect. Now, if I was Grozak, I’d slap you. But I’m not Grozak.” He turned to Kim, who’d just come into the room. “Tell Norton to go out to the place where the mine exploded. If he finds Trevor alive, kill him.”

  “No!” Panic soared through her. “You can’t do that.”

  “But I can. I can do anything. That’s what you’ve got to learn. Go ahead, Kim, tell him.”

  Kim turned to leave the room.

  “No!”

  “Since you’re new at this, if you ask me politely I might tell Kim to forget Trevor.” He smiled. “But you’d have to say please.”

  He was staring at her with malicious satisfaction, waiting for her to give in. Submission. She wanted to break his neck.

  But pride wasn’t worth the chance of Trevor being killed to teach her a lesson. “Please,” she said through her teeth.

  “Not gracious, but I’ll consider it a lesson learned.” He gestured and Kim left the room. “Though Cira would have probably let me kill Trevor rather than give me the satisfaction.”

  “No, she wouldn’t. She’d have given in and then waited to get her own back later.”

  “You seem very certain.” He tilted his head. “Promising. Very promising.”

  Another ripple of fear went through her. God, he was clever. In the space of minutes he’d managed to make her surrender to his will when she’d never thought that possible.

  “You’re afraid,” he said s
oftly. “That’s always the first step. I have to find the key and then turn it. You’re not afraid for yourself, but you’re afraid for Trevor. It’s really too bad he’s probably dead. He might be a valuable tool.” He turned and picked up a briefcase on the desk. “But there’s always Joe Quinn and Eve Duncan.” He carefully put the cases with his coins in the briefcase before opening the file cabinet and putting the translations into the same briefcase. “One tool may be as efficient as the other.”

  “Is that how you trained Jock? Did you threaten people he loved?”

  “Partly. But I had information to gather from him, so it had to be a combination of drugs and psychological training. I’ll be following on those lines with you too, but every case is different.”

  “Every case is a horror story. You’re a horror story.”

  “But aren’t the most fascinating stories in literature all with their element of horror? Frankenstein, Lestat, Dorian Gray.” He fastened the briefcase. “Come along. I wonder if I should take the original manuscripts instead of letting—”

  His telephone rang and he pressed the button to answer it.

  I can’t do it,” Jock said. “It’s too late.”

  “You set the damn charge,” Trevor said. “Now fix it.”

  “He can’t fix it,” MacDuff said as he finished wrapping a make-shift bandage around Trevor’s shoulder. “He’s already activated it. He wasn’t planning on being here. If he gets near the landing pad, it will blow him to kingdom come.”

  “Why the landing pad?” Trevor’s gaze shifted to the concrete landing pad half buried in snow. “Why not set a charge near the house?”

  “I couldn’t get close enough to the house,” Jock said. “There’s a ring of land mines around the entire perimeter. I had to wait for an increase in the snowfall, set the charge, and get out quick before I was seen.” He looked at Trevor. “You were supposed to be going after Jane, not Reilly. Not right away. Neither Jane nor you was supposed to be here. I should have had at least another thirty minutes and then it would have been over.”

  “Too bad. Everything doesn’t always work out like you think it will. And what’s to keep the helicopter from blowing up the minute it sets down?”

  “I set the wire a foot from the pad and covered it with snow. The vibration won’t set it off, but direct foot pressure will.”

  “You’re sure?”

  Jock stared at him in bewilderment. “Of course I’m sure. I don’t make mistakes.”

  “And what if Reilly doesn’t use the landing pad?”

  “He will. In less than ten minutes,” Jock said. “Reilly is a very cautious man. He might not be alarmed about dealing with us, so I put on some pressure.”

  “What kind of pressure?”

  “I called the police and told them about the training compound across the Montana border.” He checked his watch and then his gaze focused on the back door. “About forty minutes ago. If Reilly hasn’t gotten a call from the compound already, he’ll get one soon. He’ll be off and running. He’ll have that helicopter here ASAP.”

  “Christ.” Trevor turned to MacDuff. “You said you were good with mines. Jane’s bound to be with Reilly. He may even make her go first. Can’t you do anything about that charge?”

  “Not in five minutes. I’d get out there just in time to meet Reilly and his crew.”

  “Shit. Then we try to go in after them.”

  “No.” Jock was shaking his head. “I told you. We can’t risk—”

  “We can’t risk Jane being blown up,” Trevor interrupted. “So find us a way to get in there before that helicopter comes.”

  “I’m thinking about it.” Jock’s forehead was furrowed as he reached down and picked up his rifle. “The distance is a little too far for a safe shot. It was going to be fine. You shouldn’t have been here. Now I’ll have to— Shit!”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “The wind has picked up and is blowing the snow away from the wire. I can see a little bit of it from here.”

  Trevor could see it too. “Good.”

  “No. If he sees it, then everything is ruined. I can’t let him get on that helicopter. This may be our last chance.” He started forward. “Maybe if I’m careful I can go out and try to cover the wire again.” His head lifted and he looked up at the sky. “Too late. Time’s run out.”

  Trevor could hear it too. The beat of the rotors of a helicopter.

  “Hell’s bells.” His gaze flew to the house.

  The back door was opening.

  Hurry. Get out there.” Reilly pushed Jane through the doorway and said over his shoulder to Kim, “You stay here and make sure Norton packs up everything into the truck and go with him.”

  “You’re not taking me? That wasn’t the plan.” Kim looked at him, outraged. “You’re leaving me behind?”

  “If the police are at the compound, they’ll be all over this place soon. They’ll seize my collection. I have to be sure—” He stopped as he saw her expression. “Very well. Just tell Norton to pack everything and get out of here within the next half hour.”

  “I’ll tell him.” She handed him the personnel records. “You wait for me.”

  “Arrogant bitch,” Reilly muttered as he pushed Jane ahead of him. “If I wasn’t afraid she’d torch my collection, I’d leave her here to rot. She’s not going to be that useful from now on anyway.”

  “That’s loyalty.” Jane watched the blue-and-white helicopter land. “Can’t you see that everything’s going down the tubes for you? The police are closing in. Forget about the agreement you made with the Muslims. Cut a deal.”

  “If you could see what’s in these personnel records, you wouldn’t even suggest that. They wouldn’t deal.” His pace quickened. “And as soon as I get in the air, I’m going to make those calls to my men in Chicago and Los Angeles, and within two hours I’ll have a very happy partner who will meet us in Canada and whisk us to North Korea.”

  Jesus. She couldn’t let him get on that helicopter. He mustn’t make those calls.

  What the hell could she do to stop him?

  Stall. She halted. “I’m not going.”

  He pointed the gun at her. “I’ve no time for this nonsense. I’ve gone to a lot of trouble and I’ve no intention of losing you now. It’s not an—”

  A shot.

  Pain.

  She fell to the ground.

  21

  What the hell did you do?” Trevor said. “You shot her, you idiot.”

  “Only a flesh wound in the upper arm.” Jock was aiming down the barrel of the rifle again. “She was in my way. I couldn’t get a clear shot at Reilly.”

  “You still can’t. He’s weaving like a football player toward that helicopter.” MacDuff started to laugh. “And leaving Jane behind. Jock, you son of a bitch, that’s what you meant to do.”

  “It seemed very reasonable. If I can’t get the shot, then it will distract him enough so that the explosion will get him. Reilly always taught me to have a backup.” He zeroed in on the back of Reilly’s head. “It’s a gamble,” he murmured. “Will he move left or right next? I’ll . . . guess . . . left.” He pulled the trigger.

  Jane stared in horror as Reilly’s head exploded.

  “Son of a bitch.” Kim Chan was standing a few feet away, staring at the monstrosity that a moment before had been Reilly. “I told him—” She was shaking with rage as she turned toward Jane. “You. He should never have— The fool.” She lifted the gun in her hand. “Your fault. You and that idiotic Cira. You were—”

  Jane rolled over in the snow and struck Kim in the knees, bringing her down.

  Get the gun.

  She had it.

  But Kim was on her feet and running toward the helicopter. Christ, did she know those phone numbers to call? Would the suicide bombers pay attention to her if she did? She worked closely with Reilly. There was a chance she might want to step into his shoes. Jane struggled to her knees. “Stop. You can’t do—”

  The ea
rth shook as Kim stepped on the snow-covered wire bordering the helicopter pad.

  Whoosh.

  An explosion.

  Flames.

  The woman was suddenly no longer there.

  Then the helicopter exploded.

  Shards of metal and rotors were hurling in every direction.

  Jane buried her face in the snow and tried to flatten herself into the ground.

  When she looked up seconds later it was to see the burning hulk of the helicopter.

  “Are you okay?” It was Trevor kneeling beside her, unzipping her anorak to look at her arm.

  He was alive!

  Thank God. “I thought you were dead,” she said shakily. “The land mine . . .”

  “Jock set it off to make everyone think I’d bought it. MacDuff and he were staking out the house and he saw me crawling away. I was grateful.” His lips tightened. “Until the looney kid shot you because you were in the way of him getting Reilly.”

  “I don’t think I’m hurt much.” She looked at the burning remains of the helicopter. “And it was worth it to stop Reilly from getting on that helicopter.”

  “I don’t agree.” He was looking at the wound. “Just a little bleeding. Jock said it was a flesh wound.”

  “Where is he?” Then she saw Jock and MacDuff heading for the house. She called, “Be careful. Norton’s in there and he’ll—”

  “Don’t worry,” MacDuff said. “We’ll be careful. But Jock doesn’t want the police to hurt this Norton. He wants to get to him first. He’s feeling a bit of empathy.”

  “Will he feel the same empathy for those suicide bombers at the compound?” Jane murmured as MacDuff and Jock disappeared into the house. “Jesus, what do you do with people like that?”

  “Leave it up to the government. They’ll probably put them in a hospital and try to deprogram them.”

  “If they can find them. Reilly called and told them he wanted all of them to ‘disperse.’” She got to her feet. “But he took the personnel records with him.” She moved slowly toward Reilly’s body. “The records must have some information about those people.” She carefully kept her gaze from the bloody corpse as she took the briefcase from Reilly’s hand. “He had another one with his translations of documents from Herculaneum. I don’t see— There it is.” The other briefcase had been flung several yards away by the blast.