Iris Johansen - Deadlock

Her brows rose. "A hundred years?"

"Why not? The world is changing, evolving every second. I believe in the future. Now, you work on treasures of the past and know that a thousand years is only a blink of the eye. We just look at things in a dif¬ferent way." He released her hands. "I'm going to go up to the cockpit and tell Dardon to dump your info about Zelov's hammer into the mix and try to come up with something. Will you be okay?"

"Yes." She watched him turn and leave her. She would be okay, but she would have been better if he'd kept holding her hands. It was terrible to feel this vulnerable and alone when she'd always been strong and inde¬pendent. It would go away. She just had to be patient, and she would be herself again.

But was that true? Would she ever be the Emily Hudson she had been before she had met Staunton?

Yes, dammit, she would not let Staunton twist her soul as he had her emotions. That would be a victory for him, and she would not give him any triumph.

So she needed to start learning to compartmentalize, keep the pain away, and use her mind and memory as weapons in the battle. The next time she talked to Garrett, she had to be prepared. She must not lean on him again.

"SHE'S NOT BEING HELD B Y the CIA," Borg said. "Ferguson just issued a statement that he'd sent her into seclusion to recover from her ordeal."

"Bullshit," Staunton said. "He's trying to save his ass. That bitch wouldn't let anyone send her anywhere. She's flown the coop." He frowned. "Maybe it wasn't the CIA who took her back from me. I was wondering how they suddenly managed to find us after blundering around those mountains for weeks."

"Who else?"

He shrugged. "I've no idea. But someone must know. Whoever raided the camp had to have been given detailed information by some¬one who lives in these mountains. All we have to do is find that infor¬mant and ask him a few questions."

"We may not be welcome in the mountains," Borg said. "It's hard to quiet rumors among the tribes. After what you did to Shafir Ali's men that was-"

"Why, I don't know what you mean." Staunton raised his brows. "It was the CIA who blew up that hut. These mountain tribes stick together. It shouldn't be too hard to fan the flames and make it very uncomfortable for anyone who helped that to happen. We'll get some¬one to point the finger." Staunton smiled. "That's all I need."

Mykala Island, Greece

"IT'S BEAUTIFUL," EMILY WHISPERED. "I don't think I've ever seen a place this beautiful or peaceful."

"It's the light," Garrett said as he helped her out of the helicopter. "The light here in Greece is like pure gold, and it seems particularly brilliant here on Mykala."

It could be the light or the intense blue of the sea surrounding the island or the shimmering white sands. Whatever the components, the overall effect was like being enveloped in a golden haze, Emily thought. "It's such a small village."

"Yes." He smiled. "Mercifully. One priest, two teachers, and one magistrate. We all get along just fine."

"Where is your house?"

Garrett nodded at a white stucco house on the hill that they were passing. "That's mine." He gestured to a larger two-story structure on the beach. "But that's where you'll be staying. That's our Sister Irana's domain."

She stiffened. "Sister? A nun?"

"Well, technically she's no longer a sister. She was a nun serving in a small hospital outside Athens when I met her ten years ago. She saved my life when I washed ashore with three bullet holes in my body." He turned to Dardon. "Go and tell Irana we're coming, will you?"

Dardon nodded and took off down the path.

"A nun?" Emily repeated.

"Not any longer. Irana Povak. She's a full-fledged doctor now, but she was just an intern when I first met her. She was having a crisis of faith, and I didn't help. Anyway, after she decided to leave the order, I set her up in a hospital and convalescent home here on the island. She only takes a limited number of patients because she's busy doing re¬search. But each of them is universally considered hopeless or belongs to the unwanted."

"I won't go there," Emily said. "I'm perfectly healthy, and there are no confessions I want to make to anyone. Not a nun or priest or-"

"No one's asking you to bare your soul," Garrett said roughly. "That would be the worst possible thing for you right now. All I'm asking is that you stay with Irana two days and see if it works out. If you don't like it, I'm only four miles away. A tough customer like you could hike that distance in no time."

"I could come right now." She turned to face him. "Why don't you want me?"

"I do want you. But I want you to heal quickly. The longer it takes you to recover, the longer it will be until we can go after Staunton."

"And this Sister Irana is going to bless me and make everything all right?"

"Irana is just neutral ground. There's nothing neutral about me, and it could get in the way. She's not going to ask anything of you. And she's too smart to think she can solve all the problems of the world." He held out his hand. "You said you'd do what I told you. Two days?"

She hesitated, then ignored his hand and passed him to go down the hill. "If she doesn't try to save my soul. Nothing is going to stop me from killing Staunton."

"Irana believes that only God can save a soul. And if you don't men¬tion lethal intentions, she'll have no reason to be upset." He followed her down the path. "And since you have no desire to confide in-There she is." He waved at a woman who had come out of the hospital. "I didn't think she'd be willing to wait until we came to her."

"What are you up to now, Garrett?" Irana Povak called. "Dardon says that I may be in trouble." Irana was a slim, athletic-looking woman in her late thirties whose dark hair was pulled back in a loose chignon. She was dressed casually in jeans and a loose white shirt.

"Would I do that to you?"

"Yes." Irana's glance shifted to Emily, and her eyes widened with recognition. "Sweet Mary, I am in trouble. Are you crazy, Garrett? The island is going to be crawling with reporters."

"No one knows she's here. Your nurses won't talk. How many pa¬tients do you have right now?"

"Only seven."

"It shouldn't be too much trouble keeping Emily tucked away and out of their sight."

"I don't want to be tucked away," Emily said. "Let's forget about it."

"I could put her in the cottage where we keep contagious cases," Irana said. "No one goes there."

"Fine." He turned back to Emily. "I'll see you in two days unless you call me."

"I won't be hidden away."

"You were willing for me to keep you incognito." "That's different."

He met her gaze. "Yes, it is. But you'll have to work it out with Irana."

Emily's fists clenched as she watched him walk away.

"It will be all right," Irana said quietly. "He must think it's best, or he wouldn't have brought you to me. He's not really abandoning you."

Emily turned to face her. "I didn't want to be dumped on anyone. I can take care of myself."

"But sometimes it's best just to relax and not have to worry about it. You must have been through quite an ordeal." A sudden smile lit her face. "I promise that I won't cosset you or ask you questions."

"Cosset? That's a rather old-fashioned word, isn't it?"

"Yes, Garret gave me a library full of old books when I was trying to learn English. Everything from Shakespeare to Frances Hodgson Burnett. I thought everyone used words like that." She chuckled. "And Garrett never corrected me. Sly devil. It took me a year to weed out all those antiquated phrases. Some I kept because I like the sound of them."

"You speak very good English." It was true. Irana had only a trace of an accent.

"I like the language. It's both difficult and deceptive. I enjoy a chal¬lenge."