Iris Johansen - Eight Days To Live

“How much time?”

She shrugged. “Six, eight hours minimum.” She saw Jane frown, and said, “Do you want accuracy or guesswork? I don’t do guesswork.”

“Okay.” She nodded. “I guess I’m impatient. There are reasons.”

“There are reasons for everything. I’ll get it done as quickly as I can.”

“I know you will,” Caleb said. “We can’t wait for it. As it is, we won’t be in Zurich before nearly five. We’ll come back and pick it up.” He turned to Jane. “If you’ll trust the book out of your hands?”

Jane hesitated.

“You can trust her,” Caleb said. “I guarantee it. No matter what’s in that book, she’ll forget it as soon as she makes the translation.”

“That’s not what I was worrying about. I don’t even know if this translation is any more than Adah Ziller’s bedroom antics.” She looked at Lina. “But the woman who wrote this was murdered. There may be people who are interested in it as much as we are.”

“We weren’t followed, Jane,” Caleb said. “I made sure of it.”

“I’m glad you’re sure. But I’m not sure of anything,” Jane said. “Except that she has to be warned.”

Lina smiled faintly. “Thank you. Some of my clients haven’t been that considerate. But I can take care of myself. After I left Afghanistan, I made very sure of that.” She leaned forward and opened the ledger. “Now get out of here and let me work. I want to get through with this so that I can get back to my garden before dark. I need to finish putting in my tomatoes.”

“I could help when we come back to pick up the translation,” Jock offered.

She shook her head. “I like to do things on my own. I don’t need anyone. Go away.”

“Whatever you say,” Jock said as he turned toward the door. “I’ll ask you again when I come back.”

She didn’t answer. She was already making notes on her pad.

“I’ll call you when we start back from Zurich,” Caleb said.

She nodded absently.

They weren’t even there for her, Jane thought, as she left the cottage. The woman’s concentration was so intense that she had closed out everything but that handwriting on the page.

“She’ll get it done,” Caleb said as he opened the car door for her. “Lina is brilliant. She’ll get every phrase right.”

“I’m not doubting her ability. You wouldn’t deal with anyone who couldn’t do the job.” She looked around the hillside, then down to the valley. Majestic mountains plunged into the crystal blue lake, and only a few farmhouses dotted the landscape. “It’s just that it’s so isolated here. She’s very vulnerable.”

“And you’re worried about us coming back and finding her with no head.” The words were blunt and brutal.

She flinched. “I’m worried about anyone I come in contact with.”

“Well, she’s not as vulnerable as you might think. She has an AK-47 in the pantry of that cozy kitchen, and she knows how to use it. She’s trained in martial arts, and she’s not bad with a knife. You’ll notice her cottage is on a hill, approachable only from one direction, and she can see anyone coming. If she hadn’t been expecting me, she wouldn’t have been in that garden when we drove up.”

“She’s still isolated.”

“She likes it like that,” Jock said suddenly. “No one too close.”

Caleb glanced back at him as he started the car. “You appear to understand her. Gardener to gardener?”

Jock didn’t answer as he gazed back at the cottage. “How did she get that AK-47? You can’t buy them on every street corner.”

“I gave it to her. That’s what she asked me to give her instead of cash for the first job she did for me. The AK-47, a Glock, and lessons on how to use both of them. I didn’t teach her martial arts or how to use a knife. She must have made a deal with someone else for that.”

“And how long ago was that first job she did for you?” Jane asked.

“Nine years. She’d just been smuggled out of Afghanistan and was trying to start a new life.”

“With an AK-47?” Jane asked dryly.

“She thought it might be necessary. She was probably right. Considering her background, I wasn’t going to try to talk her out of it.” Caleb lifted his shoulders. “Not that I would have made the attempt anyway. It was her business.”

“What was her background?” Jock asked. “Afghanistan?”

“She belonged to a very traditional Afghan family. She was permitted to go to a very good private school when she was a child, and she showed signs of brilliance. But her father took her out of school when she was twelve, and he began to hunt for a husband for her. With those looks, she was a prize. He arranged a marriage for her to a wealthy businessman when she was thirteen. He was old enough to be her grandfather and a sadistic bastard. He wanted a son from her, and she couldn’t conceive. He’d fly into tantrums and beat her unmercifully. She had to be taken to the hospital twice.” His lips twisted. “But even then her own family wouldn’t interfere. She belonged to her husband, and he could do anything he wished to her. She ran away when she was eighteen, but her husband found her and claimed she had been unfaithful. He wanted her stoned.”

“Good God. I thought the Afghans were becoming more moderate,” Jane said.

“As long as it’s not behind closed doors. It could very well have happened. But this time her brother stepped up to the plate and arranged for an ex-CIA friend to smuggle Lina out of the country. That’s as far as he’d go because he feared family disapproval.”

“So she was totally alone,” Jock said.

“John Garrett, the man who smuggled her out of Afghanistan, gave her enough money to go back to school and got her false ID papers to keep her safe.”

“Why did she need false ID?”

“Her husband died of a heart attack shortly after she left Kabul. His family blamed his death on her and swore to avenge him.”

“She hadn’t been through enough?” Jane shook her head. “I think I would have wanted to have an AK-47, too. But I wouldn’t have let those bastards drive me into hiding in the mountains.”

“She’s not hiding. She stopped doing that after she finished her schooling.”

“And learned how to fire an AK-47?” Jock added.

“When she left Afghanistan, she had very little formal education but an enormous determination to survive. Now she speaks and writes twelve languages fluently, including Japanese and Arabic. Translating was a career that she could do on her own terms if she became good enough. She’s accurate, nonjudgmental, and completely confidential.”

“Perfect for you,” Jane said.

“Perfect for a lot of people in this wicked world.” He slanted her a glance. “Including you at present.”

She nodded. “You said she wasn’t hiding any longer?”

“When she came here, she bought the property under her own name. If anyone was searching for her, she wanted to make sure that they knew she wasn’t afraid and was ready for them.”

“And has anyone come searching for her yet?”

“I don’t know. It wasn’t my business. If you want to know, you’ll have to ask her.”

“It’s not my business either.” But she was still curious. Her brief encounter with Lina Alsouk had been as intriguing as it had been frustrating. “If she does her job, that should be all that’s important to me.”

“She’s wounded,” Jock said. “You sensed it when you first saw her. That’s why you weren’t certain you should leave the translation with her. You didn’t want her to be hurt any more than she was already. You have trouble ignoring the wounded.”

“You make me sound like a do-gooder. If she’s wounded, then she’s walking wounded, and she’s using an AK-47 as a crutch.”