by Davis, Dee
"It’s worth a try." David reached for his glass, then paused as a tiny sound punctured his consciousness, something out of place. He held up a hand, glancing over at Jessie. She nodded, her eyes on the doorway from the study out into the hall.
Silence filled the room, unbroken except for the ticking of a grandfather clock. David moved over to the doorway, Jessie right behind him, her Beretta already drawn. He followed suit with the Sig and edged out into the hall.
Dappled sunlight filtered through the window by the door, shifting with the wind in the trees. The doors to the dining room stood open, most of the room in plain sight. David shook his head and motioned toward the closed kitchen door. As if in answer, another sound emanated from the kitchen, this one louder. A bang, followed by a muffled curse.
Frowning, Jessie moved past him, her back to the wall. She stopped at the door and reached for the handle, waiting until David was in place on the opposite wall. She held up three fingers, and he nodded, watching as she silently counted—one, two, three...
David swung into the room, gun leveled. "Move and I’ll shoot."
"Try not to hit the teacup." The man standing at the sink was indeed holding a cup, the delicate kind that gave a man the sweats just thinking about breaking it. "Eighteenth-century Limoges. The Empress Josephine. Am I right?"
Despite the fact that there were two guns pointing at him, the man actually had a twinkle in his eye.
"Faust." There was a strange mixture of emotion in Jessie’s voice. Chagrin competing with what sounded like delight.
"I take it you know him?" David said, lowering his gun.
"A friend of my brother’s." She holstered hers, her eyes never leaving Faust’s. "Is Marcus with you?" She sounded like a child at Christmas. He felt as if he’d been dropped into some alternative world. Jessie had never seemed like the family connections type. More of a loner.
Like him.
"No." The man called Faust shook his head. "But he sends his love."
Faust was hard to describe. Solidly built, with the hands of a laborer, he was one of those men who blended into the background, always there and yet one never really saw him. His face was craggy, but there was a keen intelligence reflected in his eyes. If pressed, David wouldn’t want to guess his age. Fifty—fifty-five, maybe. But he could be off a decade either way.
When David had worked for the CIA and its various nonentities, he’d been an expert in tagging people. In figuring out what they wanted even before they were sure of it themselves. And despite the fact that he was no longer working covert ops, he still trusted his gut. But Faust was one of those men who was difficult to get a handle on.
"I can’t believe you’re here." Jessie had thrown an arm around the man’s waist, the two of them walking back toward the study. For the moment they’d forgotten all about him. A fact that was oddly unsettling—at least where Jessie was concerned.
David shook his head, clearing his thoughts. What he needed now was to keep his wits about him. Emotions only got in the way of truth. He’d learned that a hell of a long time ago. Even before he’d lost his brother. And the notion always served him well.
"So, tell me the truth, what brings you here?" Jessie asked, sitting next to Faust on the sofa. "You never leave Marcus’s side." David refilled his drink, then settled back into the armchair, watching the two of them.
"Before we go any further, don’t you think it would be a good idea to introduce me to your friend?" Faust smiled and sipped his tea.
"God, I’m sorry. I was just so surprised to see you."
It was as if Faust had freed her from some dark place where she’d chosen to exist. David had only heard her laugh like that one other time. With him. In bed. But the memory was hardly relevant to the conversation at hand.
He put down his drink and leaned forward to offer a hand. "David Bishop."
"Ah, yes, I remember hearing your name." The older man’s handshake was firm and strong. "The two of you worked on a project together, right?"
"You shouldn’t eavesdrop, Faust," Jessie said, her frown forgiving. "Marcus and I were having a private conversation."
"About me?" David asked, the conversation taking an interesting turn. "I trust you weren’t too disparaging."
"Oh, quite the contrary," Faust started, only to have Jessie angrily shush him up.
"I was just telling my brother about the Protector. So of course your name came up."
David smiled, knowing damn well that it had been more than that.
"I’m Faust," the other man said, cutting through the rising tension. "I’ve come to help."
"With the Protector?" David tried but couldn’t keep the suspicion out of his voice. "How did you know we were looking for it?"
"Well, the whole world knows you're looking for it," Faust said with a shrug. "At least in my world they do."
"Faust is a thief," Jessie said, by way of explanation. "So is my brother. And for that matter—if you look at it the right way—so am I. Guess it kind of runs in the family."
"Actually, to be honest," Faust said, "Marcus is the thief— although he prefers to think of himself as a pirate. I’m more of a logistics man."
David wasn’t sure which was more interesting, imagining Faust as a pirate or realizing that Jessie actually had family. Come to think of it, despite all the passion, they hadn’t really shared that kind of intimacy. Surface details, but not the ones that really mattered. But then again maybe there were some things not meant to be talked about.
"Yes, but you said my brother was well known among those of your profession. Jason wasn’t a thief so I don’t really see where the parallel comes in."
"I never mentioned your brother. I said that your quest for vengeance is well known. And you know as well as I do that your chosen path has crossed into my world on more than one occasion. Most recently in the rather reprehensible form of Elliot Iverson."
"Iverson’s dead," Jessie said, eyeing Faust skeptically.
"I’m aware of that fact. You’ll be delighted to know that despite rumors to the contrary, the authorities believe he and that sleezeball Renauld murdered each other in a fit of pique. Nice of them to leave the two of you out of it."
"How the hell did you know we were there?" Jessie asked.
"I haven’t survived this long without keeping an ear to the ground. Besides, Marcus likes to keep tabs."
"Marcus has been otherwise occupied of late." She shot back.
"So let’s just say I’m filling in."
"I don’t need a watchdog, Faust," she said, her eyes sparking with anger.
"Don’t you?" His answer was fuel for the fire. Not that it made a bit of difference to Faust. The man just sat there drinking his tea as if everything were right as rain.
"So what is it you think you have to offer us?" David said. "I mean, you said you want to help. How exactly do you plan to do that? Between the two of us, Jessie and I have the experience necessary to break in and steal the box."
"Yes, but there’s a little problem. You don’t know where it is."
"And you think you can find it?" David crossed his arms, trying to size up the other man’s motives.
"Possibly. But first I need to understand what happened out there in the Sudan." He sat back, waiting.
"Why? What difference can it make to you?"
"If I’m going to help you, I need the whole story. All the little details."
"So what? This is a test of some kind?" David had had pissing matches with tougher customers than Faust. And he wasn’t about to dredge up the pain just so some friend of Jessie’s could satisfy his morbid curiosity.
"I think it’s a good idea if we all lay our cards on the table. Motivation is an important thing. I want to understand why you want to find the Protector."
"You first."
"I don’t want it at all. I just want to help Jessie."
"So you say," David said, his gaze locking with the older man’s.
"Oh, for God’s sake, David. Faust is
always trying to protect someone. It’s what he does. And when Marcus doesn’t cooperate he comes and finds me. And since we’re apparently playing true confession, I don’t want the box either. I just promised to get it for a client."
"A very special one," Faust said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm.
"Look, I broker information, and when the situation warrants I broker things. This was an offer I couldn’t refuse. A chance to attain something I’ve always wanted."
"And that would be... ?" David asked, surprised that he’d voiced the question.
"Peace. But I don’t expect you to understand that." Considering the way Jessie lived her life, peace seemed the last thing she’d want. Hell, she was as much of an adrenaline junkie as he was.
"Right, then," Faust said, his expression purposefully blank. "I want to watch out for Jessie, and she wants the box for a client. That leaves you."
"You know the answer. I want to find the box so that it can lead me to my brother’s killers."
"A noble cause. But I want to know why."
"I think it’s pretty goddamned clear. The bastards blew my brother’s brains out and left him to rot in the sun."
"Yes. It’s pretty straightforward. But there’s more, isn’t there?"
He wasn’t sure why Faust was pushing, but he recognized that the man wasn’t going to let it go. "What do you want me to say, old man? That I killed my brother? That he reached out to me when he was in trouble, and I failed him? That I was so fucking busy with my latest operation that I didn’t move fast enough? That I didn’t believe the threat was real?"
"But you tried to help him. You told me that much." Jessie shook her head, trying to understand.
"Yeah. I tried to help him. But only after he called a second time. And it was too late by then."
"Why are you doing this, Faust?" Jessie asked, her face full of anguish. "Can’t you see that you’re hurting him?"
"He needs to say it. To put it into words. And if you’re going to trust him to help, you have to understand what happened. What he’s living with. Why he needs vengeance beyond anything else— and I mean anything, Jessie."
Suddenly David understood. Jessie had been right. The man was here to protect her. To make sure she knew the truth about what had happened. About why he had to make things right. Faust wanted her bargain with the devil to be all signed and sealed with total disclosure.
David blew out a breath. "I told you that my brother was an archaeologist." He spoke to Jessie, ignoring the pain in his gut.
"He was like your mother. He loved everything old."
"Yes. But I didn’t get it. I thought they were both wasting their time. That there was more to life than living for the dead."
"Like saving the world?" There was no accusation. Just point of fact. Faust’s expression was masked.
"Something like that. For what it’s worth I really did believe I was making a difference. Improving the world, one operation at a time. So when Jason told me he was on to something big, I pretended to care but really didn’t listen. I mean, I was out there protecting liberty and he was obsessed with an old box."
"The Protector of Armageddon is far more than just a box."
"I suppose on an intellectual level I understand that now. But I didn’t then. And I still don’t believe it has special powers."
"There are a lot of things in this world we don’t understand, David." Faust’s words sounded like a reprimand, but David was far more interested in Jessie’s reaction.
"So you didn’t take your brother’s quest seriously. That’s hardly a reason to blame yourself for his death." She shook her head in denial, as if in so doing she could make it so.
David sighed. Better to just get it out. He wasn’t convinced it was necessary, but the door had been opened, and if he wanted Jessie to trust him—he had to tell her the whole truth. She wouldn’t settle for anything else now.
"I wish it were that simple," he said, bowing his head to order his thoughts. "Jason was always into academic things. Which meant that most of the time we never really saw eye to eye growing up. But he was my brother, and when he had trouble—like older kids picking on him—I was there to put an end to it."
"You protected him."
"Yeah. My mom used to tell me it was my job. That without my father in our life, I needed to be the man. To make sure my little brother was all right." He picked up his glass and drained the contents. Fool’s comfort. "But once we were out on our own, I went my own way. I talked to Jason now and then. And of course I was aware that he was a rising star in his field. But that’s pretty much it. And the deeper I got into espionage, the further I pulled away from my family."
"That’s understandable," Jessie said. "But when he needed you, you were there." She said it with so much confidence he felt doubly ashamed.
"That’s just it. I wasn’t. Jason’s dream had always been to locate the stuff of legends. To find the reality in the myth. And to that end, he concentrated on stories about the Protector. He used to go on and on about the thing. Its purported powers, its relevance in Christian doctrine. The kind of academic bullshit that drove me to distraction." He walked over to the drinks table for a refill.
"The truth is I didn’t care. Not even when he told me he was heading out to the Sudan."
"He thought the Protector was there." It wasn’t a question, but David answered it anyway.
"Yeah. Some backer had found evidence of what he thought was a long-forgotten tomb. There was conjecture that it might be the hiding place of the Protector. Jason called me. He was so goddamned excited. And I blew him off. I was in the middle of busting up a cartel and so I didn’t have time."
"Did he know who the backer was?" This from Faust.
"It’s a question I ask myself every damn day. If he did, and I’d bothered to ask, then maybe I would have realized it was dangerous. But I didn’t ask. And so he left and for all practical purposes fell off the radar for a couple of months. It wasn’t all that unusual. And I was pretty damned occupied with my supercilious attempt to save the world." He knew he sounded bitter, but there wasn’t a damned thing he could do about it. The floodgates had been opened and the poison was spewing.
"Anyway, one day, out of the blue, I get a call from him." David paused. He could still hear his brother’s voice, remember the excitement that had crackled across the satellite connection.
"He said he’d found it. That it was beyond anything he could possibly have imagined. And he asked me to come and get him."
"Was that a normal thing for him to do?" Jessie asked.
"No. It wasn’t. In all honesty, he didn’t approve of a lot of the things I did. Never mind that for the most part they were for the greater good, the methodology needed to accomplish some of said good was a bit more than he could stomach. So I should have recognized that his asking meant something. I mean, I was trained to read people after all. It was supposed to be my specialty. But all I felt was annoyed. I had better things to do than babysit my brother.
"Anyway, I forgot about it. Or at least pushed it out of my mind. But then I got a second call. This time he wasn’t nearly as excited, just asked if I’d made arrangements to come get him. I asked him why he needed my help. But he wouldn’t say. Just kept insisting that he needed me to come."
He took a long swallow of scotch, the burning in his throat helping him to keep focus, to fight off the demons.
"He told me where he was. The exact coordinates. And I promised I’d be there. Only it was two days before I managed to wrap things up and get out of the country." David stared down into his glass, seeing Jason’s face reflected in the dregs of his scotch.
"And you were too late." Faust, it seemed, was good at cutting to the chase.
"Yeah. By the time I got around to chartering a plane, my brother was already dead. Only of course I didn’t know it. I should have realized something was wrong. That Jason was trying to tell me something. But I missed it." He closed his eyes, memories swamping him—the heat, the s
and, the smell.
A hand closed around his, and he opened his eyes to find Jessie on the floor by the chair. He turned his hand, palm up, taking solace in the contact, even though he didn’t deserve it.
"It was hotter than hell, and the guide I’d hired didn’t want to be there. Bad juju or some fucking nonsense like that. But I pressed on, without him, and found the place, just as David had described it. As tombs went it was understated. Not much more than a hole in the base of a sand dune.
"There was no activity. No sign of a camp at all. In fact it was so quiet I started to think maybe the guide had been right. I even had the thought that Jason had been yanking my chain. That this was all his idea of a practical joke. But that wasn’t the case. He was there. Just inside the tomb.
"I don’t know your experience with the desert, Faust. But it’s not like any other climate I know. Any life that survives there preys on the things that don’t. Which means there wasn’t a hell of a lot left of my brother. In fact, if I hadn’t recognized the ring"—his thumb moved automatically to the gold signet ring on his fourth finger—"I might have believed it was someone else."
"But it wasn’t." Jessie’s voice was gentle, the sound soothing. Except that there was nothing that could ever erase the memory of his brother lying there, his corpse rotting while he waited for his big brother to ride to the rescue.
"No. It was Jason. I think I’d have known it even without the ring. But it was a gift from my mother and I don’t think Jason ever took it off."
"There was nothing to give you an idea of who’d done it?" Faust asked, frowning.
"Nothing. And I’m pretty good at ferreting out overlooked details. He’d been shot, but they were through and throughs. No casings. No bullets. Nothing that could identify the shooter. In fact, with the exception of Jason’s body and the improvised opening into the tomb, there was no sign that anyone had been there at all.
"My guess is they figured he’d just disappear and no one would ever be the wiser. The whole expedition was cloaked in secrecy. If he hadn’t called me, the tomb and his remains would have been buried beneath the sand, quite possibly forever."
