Iris Johansen - Eight Days To Live

Caleb’s face was only inches from her own.

“What is it?” she gasped.

“You tell me.” He was in the aisle squatting beside her chair. “You were muttering and moaning. Nightmare?”

Judas. Hadar. The high priest.

She sat up straight in the chair and pushed her hair back from her face. “Sort of.”

“My fault?”

She frowned. “What?”

“One of the words you were muttering was Guilt. I asked you about the painting right before you went to sleep.”

“No.” She moistened her lips. “I wasn’t dreaming about the painting.”

“The Judas face again?”

Raw despair. Betrayal. Eternal damnation. “Partly.”

“But you’re not going to talk about it.”

“It was just a dream.”

His gaze narrowed on her face. “Someday you’ll trust me enough to talk to me.” He rose to his feet. “Or maybe not. Other things can replace trust that may be just as binding.” He sat down in his seat across from her again. “We should be arriving in Edinburgh within the next thirty minutes.”

“Already?” Her gaze flew to the window. “I must have slept longer than I thought.”

“You got a few good hours of sleep before the demons began to plague you.”

“What demons?” she asked warily.

“How do I know? Any demon that’s particular to you. We all have them.”

“What’s your demon, Caleb?”

“If I told you that, then I’d have to share. You don’t want to share my demons, Jane.”

She remembered that moment when he’d thrown Weismann down in front of Lina’s door. “No, you can have them all to yourself.”

He smiled. “But I’ll be willing to share your demons. I know most demons by name, and others are bosom friends. If I can’t fight them, I’ll persuade them to come visit me instead.”

She shook her head. “You’re impossible.”

“In more ways than one.” He paused. “Will you tell me one thing about your dream?”

“It’s just a dream.”

“Then you shouldn’t mind discussing it. Was Hadar in it?”

She looked at him in surprise. “How did you guess?”

“If they play out like a story unfolding, then Hadar would be a central character, wouldn’t he?”

“Or I might be influenced by all the talk about Hadar to have had him creep into my subconscious.”

“Yes, that’s a possibility. Was there anything that we can grab on to about Hadar?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said impatiently. “You can’t grab on to a dream.”

He was silent, waiting.

“Even if you were to put any weight in what I dreamed, Hadar was only a young scribe.” She made a face. “Who was willing to kill for Judas.”

“Where?”

“Jerusalem. Outside the temple. Judas had just tried to give the pouch of coins back to the high priest.”

“A very crucial time.”

She looked back at the red-tipped clouds outside the window. “A dream.”

“Or a story beginning to unfold,” Caleb said quietly. “And a demon being born.”

London

Day Five

ROLAND ENTERPRISES.

The name engraved in gold on the black granite gave the impression of being discreet, important, and affluent, Jane thought. But then so did the skyscraper that occupied a piece of London’s prime real estate.

“Into the lion’s den?” Caleb said as he opened the glass door for her. “Unless you’ve changed your mind?”

She shook her head. “No way.” She moved toward the elevator. “But I expected you to try to talk me out of it. Jock certainly did.”

“I agree with you that there’s a risk, but it’s not major. A man who has tried so hard to keep in the shadows isn’t going to take a chance unless he’s sure that it’s not going to damage his reputation.”

“That’s what I thought.”

He smiled. “And you’ve got me. I’d probably be able to sense any impending danger. I’ve got pretty good instincts.”

Hunter’s instincts. “You said the executive offices were on the top floor?”

He nodded. “Twelve.” He got into the elevator and punched the button. “And, according to the receptionist, Roland is in London at the moment.”

“Why not? He sends Millet to do his dirty work while he cools his heels in this granite mausoleum.” She got off on the twelfth floor and strode toward the receptionist’s desk. There were executive offices on both sides of the hall and at least a dozen secretaries in cubicles down the hall.

The secretary was blond, sleek, and attractive. SHEILA CARMODY was the name on the bronze plate on her desk. “May I help you?”

“I need to see Alan Roland,” Jane said.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No, tell him that Jane MacGuire wants to see him.”

“I’m afraid that he never sees anyone without an appointment.”

“Except Jane MacGuire,” Caleb said. “She’s always the exception, isn’t she?”

Sheila Carmody frowned. “I believe you’re right. I’ll see if he’s busy.” She got up and disappeared through the heavy oak doors.

“Just a nudge?” Jane murmured.

“Only a fraction of a nudge.”

The secretary returned. “He’ll see you, Ms. MacGuire.” She shook her head at Caleb, who had started for the door. “I’m sorry. Only Ms. MacGuire.”

“No,” Jane said, as Caleb opened his lips to protest. “I’ll handle it, Caleb.” She opened the door and went into the office. Strong light streamed through huge rectangular windows and burnished the rich mahogany desk and glass doors of the bookcases with a soft glow.

There was nothing soft about the man sitting at that desk. Her first impression was of confidence born of years of meeting and attaining goals. He looked to be in his mid-forties and very fit. He was big, broad-shouldered, with a ruddy complexion, piercing blue eyes, and dark hair barbered to perfection.

“Ms. MacGuire.” His smile was charismatic. “Or may I call you Jane? I feel as if I know you well.” He paused. “And you must feel the same, or you wouldn’t be here. I suppose that Adah left a trail that led you to me? I was hoping to close that avenue, but you and your friends were a bit too quick.”

Her eyes widened in surprise. “You’re not denying that you’re working with Millet, that you belong to this cult?”

“Did you expect me to deny it? It would be useless. I’ll just have to deal with your knowing about it. Actually, I look forward to dealing directly with you.”

“Instead of having Millet go after me. You’re the one who started all this. You sent that photo to Millet.”

He nodded. “I wanted to make sure that he saw it. Millet isn’t the type who would be interested in the art section of a newspaper. He’s a little crude. You might have noticed.”

“Oh, I noticed. Why did you send it?”

“I needed attention paid to you. I don’t do that kind of thing myself. I have an image to maintain.” He was studying her. “You’re a beautiful woman. That photo didn’t do you justice.”

“It served its purpose for you. It started a killing spree. Millet butchered my friend.”

“That was only a necessary side effect. Millet had to be given something since he couldn’t have immediate satisfaction in your case.”

“Why?” Her hands clenched. “I didn’t know anything about your damn Hadar. And that painting was pure coincidence.”

He shook his head. “Not possible. The resemblance is too close. You must have found a way to get into the temple. I’d judge it had to have occurred several years ago. About the time you had your run-in with Thomas Reilly.”

She stiffened in shock. “What do you know about Thomas Reilly?”

“If Adah led you to me, then you probably know that I’ve been searching for years for the Judas coins. I’ve scoured the world and dug in the background of everyone I ran across who was also on the hunt for them. Thomas Reilly was a criminal but an avid collector and I took a particular interest in him. Not easy since I had to bribe my way into several CIA files after Reilly’s death.” He smiled. “But it was worth it. Because I discovered that Reilly was convinced that you knew where those Judas coins could be found. He thought that they’d been thrown into a chest of gold coins that came from Herculaneum to Scotland.” He paused. “And that you knew where that chest had been hidden.”