Iris Johansen - Eight Days To Live

Caleb glanced down at the GPS. “About forty minutes.”

Forty minutes. They might find out absolutely nothing, but they had a chance. There was only a slim possibility that Weismann was with Adah Ziller, but she might be able to lead them to him. She leaned back in the seat. Try to relax.

At least she wasn’t back at the inn twiddling her thumbs. She was moving, and any move forward was progress.

THE HOUSES IN ADAH ZILLER’S subdivision were obviously meant to look like quaint, thatch-roofed farmhouses. To Jane they resembled the small rural homes she’d seen in the English countryside rather than a French village.

“Not exactly grand,” Jock murmured. “I was expecting more presence. It’s only a few miles from the palace of Versailles.”

“I’m sure they found it more economical to mirror Marie Antoinette’s fantasy of being a French peasant than the palace of Versailles.” She had a vague memory of visiting the village adjoining Versailles that Antoinette had created so that she could play milkmaid with her ladies and gentlemen of the court. “I wonder why Adah Ziller decided to settle here. Why not settle in Paris?”

“It’s close enough,” Caleb said. “And she’d have to pass Versailles every day as she drove to work. It could be that she liked that tiny connection with royalty.” He pulled the car over to the curb. “Her house is down the block. Number 42. It’s better if we park here and walk the rest of the way. Surprise is always more effective.”

“Then let’s go.” Jane got out of the car. Excitement was tingling through her. “What do we do? Surely not just knock on the door?”

“Not if there’s any possibility that Weismann is in there with her,” Jock said. “And, even if he’s not here, I don’t think Caleb is planning on a civilized chat with the lady.”

“I’ll be as polite as I can be. Sometimes it’s not possible.” Caleb was moving ahead of them. “I’ll go around the back and see if I can get in the rear door.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Stay with her, Gavin. I’ll let you both in the front door.”

“I should go-” Jane stopped as Caleb disappeared around the side of the house. “Damn him.”

“Come on.” Jock took her elbow. “I don’t like taking orders either, but this isn’t the time to argue. I want to get off the street. It’s the middle of the night, but that doesn’t mean we won’t be seen.”

No, they needed to get into the house and out of view with as much discretion as possible. “But we’d be a lot less noticeable to any neighbors if we went in the back way, too.”

“Yes.” Jock’s lips twisted. “I’m sure Caleb realized that, too. But that wouldn’t allow him the time he wants inside alone.”

Her gaze flew to his face as they reached the front door. “You’re saying that you think he doesn’t want us to know what he’s doing in there.”

“Judging by what he was saying in the car, I got the impression that he really doesn’t want anyone to know what he’s doing at any given time. Of course, you know him better than I do.” He bent over the lock on the door. “But I don’t like the idea of waiting patiently for him to let us in. Does he think he’s the only one who can pick a lock?”

“The alarm?”

“Caleb should have any alarm disabled by this time. I’ll just open the door and we’ll-” The lock clicked, and he slowly swung the door open to reveal a dark foyer. “No alarm. But no Caleb either,” he whispered as he closed the door. “He didn’t exactly hurry to open the front door for us, did he?”

Jane didn’t answer as she followed him into the foyer. What could she say? Dammit, Caleb may have said he was going to give me the opportunity to share in his hunt, but he was obviously playing his own games.

Jock paused, looking around, then glided silently across the hall toward a wide, curved opening. A library or office? The darkness wasn’t as intense as Jane had first thought. The two beveled-glass panels on either side of the front door let the lights from the street filter into the hall and dimly lit the desk and bookcases against the far wall of the room. She followed Jock toward the doorway, trying to imitate his silent movements.

Not a sound. So quiet, so deadly. This is the Jock Gavin who had been trained as an assassin all those years ago, she thought bitterly. How quickly he had fallen back into the old skills. Her fault. He was doing all this for her.

It would do no good to feel guilty. She just had to work through this nightmare.

She moved after him toward the opening.

A bullet whistled by her cheek!

“Down!” Jock turned and pushed her to the floor.

Another bullet, this time splintering the spindle of the banister on the stairs beside her.

Someone was running down those stairs. Male. White shirt, dark pants.

Jock was rising to his knees, pulling a gun from his jacket.

But the man had reached the door and jerked it open. The light from the streetlight illuminated him for the briefest instant.

Tall. Muscular. Red hair.

Then he was gone.

“Damn! That’s Weismann.” Jock jumped to his feet and started for the door. Then he stopped. “I can’t leave you here. I don’t know if there’s anyone else in the house. Where the hell is Caleb?”

“Here.” Caleb came out of the room with the arched doorway. “Get going.”

Jock was out the door in two seconds.

Caleb pulled her to her feet. “I told you to wait outside.”

“Go to hell.” She was shaking. “And if I had waited out there, whoever was shooting at us would have run right into me.” She shook her head as she remembered Jock’s words. “It was Weismann. Jock must have recognized him.”

“Then let’s hope he catches the bastard.”

Jane glanced at the arched doorway of the room from which he’d run. “What were you doing in there?”

“Just a little advance reconnaissance-”

“Closing us out. That’s what Jock said would happen.”

“Gavin is a smart man.” He gazed at the door Jock had left open when he’d started after Weismann. “I hope he’s as fast as he is clever.”

“Why don’t you go after him?”

“I trust Gavin to catch him if it’s possible. I understand he’s exceptional.” He glanced up the stairs to the second floor. “If there were anyone up there with him, I’d think they’d be barreling down those steps. Of course, if there’s only Adah Ziller in the house, she could be hiding.”

“Or trying to climb out a window and get away,” Jane said dryly. “Maybe Weismann was trying to distract us.”

“It would be quite a jump for her.” He looked up the stairs again. “I think I’d better go upstairs and take a look around.”

“What were you doing in the office?”

“I told you, I thought I’d see if I could find anything interesting in case Adah Ziller proved difficult.” He looked up the stairs again. “Where are you, Adah Ziller?” he murmured. “I don’t hear a sound…”

Neither did Jane, and she didn’t like it. “Maybe she’s not here. Or maybe she wants us to think she’s not here.” She drew a deep breath. She was making guesses because she was afraid to face another ugly reality. “I’m tired of maybes.” She moved toward the stairs. “Let’s have a few certainties.”

Caleb was beside her, then ahead of her, moving up the steps. “By all means. I don’t suppose you’ll let me go ahead and-”

“No.” Her gaze was on the room at the top of the steps. “That door is open.” It was all the way open, as if jerked wide when someone had run through it. The other two doors on the floor appeared to be closed.

Which could be-

Caleb muttered a curse. He was at the top of the stairs, his gaze on the interior of the bedroom. “Damn. I was afraid of this. I had a feeling. I’m not going to be able to-” He was striding toward the bedroom. “I’m not going to tell you to stay out. It wouldn’t do any good. Just don’t blame me if you don’t like what you see.”