Iris Johansen - Deadlock

"We don't even know what we're looking for," Emily said. "A hammer? No, he was looking in those books. Some of them are open as if he'd been leafing through them. It has to be a paper of some sort." Death all around her. Blood all around her. She drew a deep breath. "I'll take the rest of the books in the shelves. You go through the desk again."

"Check the books on the floor that they discarded and feel for thickness. It could be under the cover or the faceplate."

"You don't have to tell me. I know all about thieves and hiding ob¬jects." She had a memory of going over the walls in the basement of the museum with Joel. "Check the walls for any hidden hollows or safes." She shook her head. "No, I'll do it." She moved toward the wall beside the bookshelves. "I'll be faster."

He nodded. "I imagine you will." He went to the desk and knelt. "And that's a top priority. Ferguson is damn good. He'll be on our tail in a heartbeat."

"FIND ANYTHING?" MOORE asked Ferguson.

"Nothing." He skipped to the next quadrant on the map. "Neither

Garrett nor Emily Hudson had any connection with anyone in that area.

"That we know about," Moore said.

"That's what I need. Encouragement," Ferguson said sourly. "I'll find them."

"We could call headquarters and get them to use a satellite to home in on-"

"And by the time we get through the red tape, Garrett and Hud¬son will be out of the city." He studied the quadrant and punched the cross-reference button. "This could be faster if we don't have to go through too many-Yes." An address had been suddenly highlighted in red on the screen. A name and telephone number immediately fol¬lowed. "Nemid. What connection…?" Then it came to him. It was Nemid who had been responsible for sending Emily Hudson to the museum, and he had been one of the most vocal council members urging her to be found. "We've got them." He started the car. "How long is it going to take us to get there?"

Moore checked the GPS. "Eight point five miles."

GARRETT FOUND A SECRET drawer in the left side of the desk. "Nemid seems to have had a liking for secret cubbyholes. The regular safe wasn't enough."

"A safe is the first place anyone looks," Emily said as she ran her fingers over the upper wall. "Is there anything in it?"

"We'll know soon." He took his pocketknife and jimmied the drawer open. "Papers. Documents of some kind. Could be pay dirt."

"Take them." She continued to run her fingers over the wall, then moved to the wall on the other side of the door. "And keep looking. A secret desk drawer is the second-most-popular place to look. Nemid was a smart man. He would have known that he should throw out some red herrings. He wouldn't have used anything that simple."

"This could be what we're looking for. We don't have much time." "Just a little longer."

"Look, Emily, we have two murdered men and our fingerprints are all over this room. Who's to say you didn't come here to murder Nemid because he sent you on that mission to the museum? We can't afford to be caught here."

She hesitated. "Just a few minutes more." She crossed to the wall behind the desk, keeping her eyes off the crumpled body of Nemid only a few feet away. Her fingertips were light and sensitive on the wall. "Let me do this…"

"FOUR MINUTES," MOORE SAID. "Should we call reinforcements?" "No, I want to handle this myself."

"That's right; Emily Hudson is still something of a heroine in the media's eyes. We wouldn't want her to cause problems."

"She's already causing problems," Ferguson said curtly. "But I'll find a way to stop it. I'll find a way to stop both of them."

"GOT IT." EMILY TENSED, HER fingers moving carefully over the surface. "Circular, and the drywall is thicker in the center."

"Great." Garrett was beside her, his knife out. "Step aside, and I'll see what we have." He started cutting into the drywall. "Did I ever tell you that you're pretty fantastic? My kind of woman…"

"Because I know how to burgle a safe?"

"Among other things. Definitely a cavity." He carefully widened the hole and shined his flashlight into it. "Bull's-eye." He reached in and drew out a shallow box. He opened it to reveal a single sheet of paper. "Nemid evidently wanted it well protected." He grabbed her arm and headed for the front door. "Let's get out of here before it's too late. We've been here too long already."

It was already too late.

As they reached the courtyard, a car screeched to a halt at the curb behind their own.

"Shit. Back way." Garrett took her hand and ran back into the house. "Straight down the hall." He opened the door at the end of the corridor, turned left, and darted down the next corridor.

Kitchen.

They tore toward the door across the room.

"THERE THEY ARE," FERGUSON said, exultant, as he caught sight of Garrett and Emily disappearing back into the house. "I knew we'd get them." He jumped out of the car and ran toward the front door. "Moore, you come with me. Dietrich, you go around back."

Ferguson drew his gun as he ran through the front door. "Garrett, come out. You can't get-" His gaze froze on the two bodies on the li¬brary floor. "Holy shit."

"STAY BEHIND ME." GARRETT ran down the steps, and Emily followed close behind. "Ferguson will have sent someone-" He caught sight of Dietrich as he came around the corner of the house and ran toward him. "Keep going."

Dietrich was drawing his gun.

Emily stopped, then started to follow Garrett.

Garrett braced and went low, tackling Dietrich. He gave the CIA man a karate chop to the neck and leapt to his feet as the agent went limp.

"I told you to go on." He grabbed her hand and half pulled her with him as he ran out of the back courtyard into the street. "Run." They ran. Down the block. Turned right, then turned left.

"Can't we double back to the car?" Emily asked, her breath com¬ing in gasps.

"Too risky. Ferguson might have left someone there in case we did." "Only one man?"

"Yes, but he'd be good. I might have to kill him. I don't think you want that to happen."

She remembered the vicious violence he'd used on the man in the courtyard. "No. But we're on foot. Ferguson must be after us by now in his car."

"Probably." He saw the gleam of headlights as a car turned the cor¬ner three blocks down. "Definitely." He pulled her into the deep alcove of a shop and pressed her into the shadows against the wall with his body. "Not a word," he whispered. "He's moving slow."

She couldn't speak if she wanted to do it. She was holding her breath. Her heart was racing. Slow? It was taking that car forever to cover those three blocks.

Then out of the corner of her eye she saw a beam of light.

Would they catch sight of them? Would the car stop?

The car was alongside them now, only several feet away.

Lord, they were creeping.

Then the car passed them, and Emily saw the red taillights as it moved down the street.

Her breath escaped in a rush of relief.

Garrett shook his head and put his finger to his lips.

She nodded.

A moment later he took a step back. "They turned at the next cor¬ner. We'll double back and make our way down to the market on the cross street."

"Is it safe?"

"No, Ferguson will be searching the entire city, and if he turns the locals loose, it will be worse. But we need to get to somewhere safe, and I know someone who runs a jewelry shop in the market. That's as close to safe as we're going to get." He started down the street. "Move."

She was already half-running to keep up with him. "Should we be running away? It's Ferguson. He's CIA. He should be able to help us."

"If he chooses to do it," Garrett said. "And if he gets his hands on us, he doesn't have to make a choice. He'll be in charge." They'd reached the corner, and Garrett turned right. "We'll have to make sure that doesn't happen. Ferguson likes control, and he's not above sacrific¬ing a few scruples to get it. Believe me, I know. I've seen him operate, and it's not pretty. He once abandoned me to the mercies of drug run¬ners in the jungle in Colombia when he knew the chances of my getting out were slim to none. He didn't even try to save me."