Iris Johansen - Deadlock

"How are you going to avoid it if you have to turn Emily Hudson over to him?"

"I'm working it out."

Dardon's gaze narrowed on his face. "That usually means compli¬cations. I take it you're not ready to share?"

"There's nothing to share." He repeated, "I'm working it out." He stood up and took out his phone. "Find out about Staunton." He was dialing Ferguson as he stepped out of the cockpit. He glanced at Emily; she was still sleeping. But she was restless, and that sleep was probably filled with nightmares.

"Garrett?" Ferguson answered on the second ring. "Where the hell are you? What's happening?"

"I got Emily Hudson out." He kept his voice low, his gaze on Emily. "Levy is dead."

Ferguson started to curse. "I guess one is better than none. Bandits?"

"Yes, Shafir Ali. He's dead, too."

"And this Westerner you thought was involved?"

"I didn't see anyone but Shafir."

"Where are you? When can I take Emily Hudson into custody?" "That's up to her."

"No way," Ferguson said flatly. "It's up to me. I'm the one who's tak¬ing the heat. The sooner I can produce the woman, the better for me." "But not necessarily better for her."

"We made a deal. I gave Dardon the evidence. Now where are you?

"We made a deal that I'd go in and get Emily Hudson and Levy out if they were still alive. I've fulfilled my part of the bargain." "Where is she?"

"I'll have her call and tell you herself." He hung up the phone. He had almost felt the scorching heat of the fury and frustration Fergu¬son had radiated. The first thing the CIA man would do would be to mobilize all his forces to try to locate him. Which meant Garrett would have to move fast, whatever he decided to do.

He checked his watch. They should be landing in five minutes, and he couldn't let Emily sleep any longer. He grabbed the clothes that Dardon had brought for Emily and crossed back to her.

She opened her eyes as soon she sensed him kneeling beside her. Garrett…

"We have to get you dressed. We're going to land. I told Dardon to check your sizes. I hope the clothes fit." He pulled the cover down. Sit up.

She slowly sat up. "I'm… stiff."

"You have a right to be." He slipped the straps of her bra over her arms and went around and fastened it. "Dardon got his research wrong. This is too big for you."

"I lost weight. I had trouble eating."

He was silent. "I should have thought of that. The other clothes will probably be loose, too." He came around and held up the briefs, pants, and shirt. "You're stiff and sore, and that leg is bothering you. I can either let you struggle to do the rest yourself, or I can help you and we'll get it done quick. You decide."

She gazed at the clothes. He was right, it was stupid to try to be independent when it would hinder both of them. "Help me. It's a lit¬tle late to worry about being embarrassed. I feel… comfortable with you.

"That's not really what I wanted to hear." He began to dress her. "Comfortable is boring. I've never aspired to boring."

"WHERE IS THIS FIELD LOCATED?" Emily was gazing down at the flat, barren meadow below them as the helicopter began its de¬scent. "I don't see anyone in sight."

"We're about sixty miles from Kabul. You'd see an army of people during the growing season. It's a poppy field. The farmers harvest their opium and ship it out to the world. They can afford to stay in¬doors during the bad weather." He shrugged. "And it's convenient for us to have a landing spot where there's no one around to be too curi¬ous. I didn't think you'd like to be bombarded right away."

"No." She could feel her muscles tightening in response to that thought. "No, I wouldn't."

"Don't tense up," Garrett said quietly. "And don't start shaking. It's not going to happen. I promise."

"I'm not-" She drew a deep breath. "I'm not that fragile or-I was cold."

"Whatever you say," Garrett said. "But I'm still not going to let you be put in the spotlight. I have a certain pride in my work. I got you out in one piece, and I won't let them tear you apart."

"I wouldn't let them do that."

"We won't put it to the test."

The helicopter landed a few minutes later, and Dardon came out of the cockpit. "Safe and sound. The car should be here any minute." He nodded slowly as he stared at Emily. "Hi, I'm Jack Dardon. We weren't formally introduced, but I'm very glad to see you in such good shape."

"And I was very glad to see that helicopter looming out of the snow."

"I would have come with Garrett to get you, but he said it was safer for me to furnish the transport." He tilted his head. "You have better color than you did when Garrett brought you on board, but you're still a bit puny-looking."

"I'm not puny. I'll be fine."

"Well, don't let Ferguson run you ragged. He's a little too eager to prove to everyone that he can pull the magical rabbits out of the hat."

"Go out and flag down the car when it gets here," Garrett said.

Dardon smiled. "Which translated means Garrett wants to get rid of me." He headed for the door. "I'd be pissed, but I'd rather not be included in Garrett's plans. I prefer to save myself to implement the final project."

Emily watched him cross the field toward the road. The snow had stopped, but Dardon's boots were sinking into the deep slush and snow. "Were you trying to get rid of him?"

He nodded. "I had to talk to you before the car arrived."

"Why?"

"The car is intended to take you to Kabul to Ferguson. Once you get there, all hell will break loose. He's going to try to make everyone forget he didn't act soon enough to save Levy by parading you before the media and every nation and organization that has been searching for you."

Every muscle tensed in rejection. "No!"

"And they'll start by asking you questions. About Levy. About Staunton. About those weeks in the mountains."

Emily could feel the panic rising. "I don't have to answer them. I-can't-do-that."

"I think you can do anything you have to do. But not without a lot of pain and bleeding that will send you into a tailspin. You're not in any shape to take that bullshit right now."

"Don't tell me what I can take," she said fiercely. "I took what Staunton did to me. There's nothing your Ferguson can do that could hurt me."

He shrugged. "Then I'm through talking. You've made your choice."

"Choice? You haven't given me a choice. You've only told me that I'm going to end up a basket case because I survived instead of dying in those mountains." She glared at him. "So give me my choice, Garrett."

He smiled. "Okay. You can go to Ferguson and put up with his grandstanding in exchange for the possibility that he'll find Staunton for you. And the possibility that he'll kill him instead of using him for his own ends. He has contacts and power, and he might be able to give you what you want."

"Or?"

"I made you a promise. You come with me and do what I tell you to do. I didn't tell Ferguson about Staunton because he'll get in my way. I find Staunton. I kill him. Your job is to lie low and stay away from Ferguson."

"And how am I to do that?"

"We record a DVD of you in which you tell Ferguson that you can't face all the hullabaloo, and give it to the driver of the car. You tell the world you need time to go away and recover, and you'll be in touch later."

"Will he believe it?"

"No, but everyone else will. And they'll be sympathetic." He paused. "Because you look like you've been through hell and back."

She had been through hell, and it wasn't over yet. It might be only the beginning.

Garrett glanced out the window. "There's the car. Make your choice."

She didn't speak for a moment. "You can find Staunton?"

"I'll find him. Is there anything you can tell me about him?"

"He has an Australian accent." She moistened her lips. "And if you get me one of those police artists, I can show you what he looks like. I know every line of his face, every expression."