Iris Johansen - Deadlock

Emily's lips lifted in a sardonic smile. "Like having me tossed in your lap?"

"I had a choice. Garrett always gives me a choice." She met Emily's eyes. "I chose you, Emily. Now you must decide if you wish to choose me.

"What would you do if I didn't?"

"Take you back to him. I owe him a great debt, but he sometimes makes mistakes." She tilted her head. "Is this one?"

Emily didn't answer for a moment as she stared at the other woman. Irana wasn't what she had expected from the few words Gar¬rett had spoken about her. There was nothing serene or contemplative or nunlike about her. She was full of life and humor and vitality. Yet Emily could not see her imposing on anyone's space. "It may not be a mistake," she said slowly, and smiled. "Since you promise not to cosset me.

Irana laughed. "Instead, I'll let you read my Jane Austen. There's something very comforting about that time period. Some of the rules were nonsensical, but at least there were rules." She took Emily's elbow and nudged her down the path. "I'll visit you once a day at the cottage, but you'll have to be the one to invite me to stay. I won't intrude. And I think that Garrett is wrong about tucking you away entirely. I'm go¬ing to put you to work. Have you ever done any nursing?" "No."

"Well, then, there are plenty of floors to scrub. It will keep you from brooding, and work is good for the soul."

"Yes, it is." Emily felt a sudden surge of relief. "I've had a job since I was sixteen. I'm not afraid of hard labor."

Irana suddenly frowned. "But you're limping. Can you work?"

"It's only a scratch. I want to work."

"Good, you'll get plenty of it. But I think we'll just take a look at any wounds and have you throw down some antibiotics." She stopped on the path, her gaze going to the horizon. "The sun's going down. There's nothing more lovely than this time of day on the island. There's a kind of golden radiance…"

And there was a radiance about Irana Povak, too, Emily thought as she gazed at her. The bones of her face were bold and well-defined, her lips were wide but beautifully formed. Her deep-set dark eyes shone with spirit, and the few lines that marked her face appeared to reflect strength and endurance rather than age.

Irana glanced back at her. "And Garrett was right to bring you here. This island can heal you if you let it." She started back down the path. "It healed me."

GARRETT WAITED UNTIL THE third day before he called Irana. "How is she?"

"The first day she was uneasy. Then when she realized that no one was going to push her to do something she didn't want to do, she re¬laxed. I put her to work scrubbing floors."

"I wanted her to rest, dammit."

"It's not what she wanted. I have to stop her after working all day and send her back to the cottage. When she gets there, she's tired enough to go to sleep. She wakes up at dawn and comes back to the hospital." She paused. "But she has nightmares, Garrett."

"It would surprise me if she didn't."

"Are you going to tell me what they did to her?"

"No. I don't know much myself. Her friend was tortured to death, and she feels guilty about it. When she's ready, she'll tell me." He added, "Or you. I'm not high on her list of trustworthy people."

"You're wrong. I think she does trust you. You obviously have a bond."

Garrett had a sudden memory of the blood and death that night in Shafir Ali's tent. "Not one you'd appreciate, Irana."

"I don't appreciate a good many of the things you do. Nor do I un¬derstand them. But I believe there's a balance in the universe, and since God created the universe, he must have approved of that balance."

"Your Church would not agree with that philosophy. They would say sin is sin, Irana."

"And the reason I left the order is that I was too willful to accept everything the Church accepts. So that also makes me a sinner, Gar¬rett." She changed the subject. "What do you want me to do about the nightmares? I could give her a sedative to make her sleep deeper. I don't want to do that."

"Neither do I." He thought about it. "Don't do anything. Let's see if they go away naturally."

"Maybe if she'd talk about it."

"No confessional. That would blow your credibility."

"There's a sound reason for the confessional. It's a healing tool." She interrupted him as he started to speak. "But don't worry, I know that I have no right to violate her privacy. How long do you want me to keep her?"

"As long as you can. She's not going to permit it for more than a week or two."

"And then once more into the fray. Poor woman."

"I'll keep her safe."

"I know you will. You're a good man, Garrett." "Only in your eyes."

"True. But I have to trust my own judgment and believe it's not willfulness and vanity. Otherwise, I'd surely be lost. I've given up too much for that belief." She added brusquely, "I'll let you know if there's any change." She hung up.

She has nightmares.

Irana had gone through a nightmare time herself, Garrett thought as he hung up the phone. Not as violent as Emily's weeks of torment, but torment just the same.

"How is Emily?" Dardon asked from the chair behind Garrett. "I take it that she's settled in nicely, since she didn't ask you to pick her up yesterday."

"Settled isn't quite the word. Irana says Emily is literally working her way through the trauma after she found out that Irana was no threat. Once she's recovered, we'll have a whole new situation to face."

"At least we have a short respite."

"Which isn't going to do us any good unless we have something to tell Emily when she's ready to hear it. No word on Staunton?" "Not yet. I'm checking with my contact at Interpol now." "Zelov's hammer?"

"Do you know how many Zelovs there are in Russia alone? I've gone through most of them and cross-referenced them with any car¬pentry or farm-equipment companies. Nothing."

"It's more likely that Zelov is a smuggler or criminal of some sort if there's an artifact hidden in the handle of the hammer. See what you can find in FSB files."

"Easier said than done. I don't have any contacts since the KGB became the FSB. It could get expensive. Any limits?"

"No."

"I didn't think so." Dardon was silent a moment. "Aren't you get¬ting too involved? You could still turn her over to Ferguson."

"That's not an option. Find the connection with Zelov."

"Okay." Dardon got up and headed toward the door. "Right away. Let's get this show on the road. I'm getting restless. I've never understood why you like to come here. This island is a little too sleepy for me."

Yes, Garrett could understand why Mykala was too boring for Dar¬don. But for some reason Garrett didn't feel the same restlessness when he was here. He felt at home, as if he belonged. Strange, when he didn't feel at home anywhere else. Was it because of Irana and her hos¬pital? He'd had little to do with it other than financing. And Irana was usually too busy to spend more than an evening or two with him dur¬ing his visits here.

He crossed to the window and looked down at the hospital on the beach. It appeared chalk white in the moonlight, and he could catch a glimpse of the cottage to the side of the building. The wind was curl¬ing the surf as it washed up on the sand.

Peace. Is that what Irana felt as she looked out at the sea? Proba¬bly. She had earned that serenity. He hoped that same peace was what Emily was feeling now.

God knows, it couldn't last long.

EMILY SCREAMED!

She sat bolt upright in bed, her heart pounding.

Staunton. Blood. Agony.

"It's all right. It's only a dream."

Emily's gaze flew to the chair in the corner of the room.

Irana leaned forward out of the shadows and turned on the lamp. "Don't be afraid. I didn't intend to intrude. I just didn't want you to be alone if you woke."