Iris Johansen - Deadlock

"No, thank you."

He signaled the bartender for another drink for himself. "When I was reading about you, I was wondering what those bandits did to you. Rape?"

She didn't answer the question. "I'd like to talk to you about Mikhail Zelov."

An undecipherable expression flitted across his face. "You came to me to ask about old Guru Mikhail?" "Guru?"

"That's what my grandfather called him. Stingy, spooky bastard. He tied up all his money in trust funds that couldn't be touched. My father only managed to finally break the will after wasting years in court."

"Why spooky?"

"He claimed he was a holy man and could heal the sick and send his enemies to their deaths." He smirked with satisfaction. "That's what we used to break the trusts. Insanity. All those documents and letters were what cooked his goose."

"That must have made you very happy," Emily said. "But I under¬stand you went through many of his records again just several months ago. Why?"

He stiffened. "How did you know that?"

She ignored the question. "Did you find something then that you didn't find before?" "Hell, no."

He'd mentioned only documents and letters, Emily thought. She made a leap. "I was actually interested in a book he wrote before he left Russia. It was a kind of a guide to living."

His expression became shuttered. "Oh, that book." He shrugged. "He talked about it." He took a swallow of his whiskey. "I think my grandfather tossed it out with a lot of his father's other effects after the old man died." He looked at Emily. "Why are you prying into the old Guru's stuff? What's it to you?"

She was ready for that question she knew would come. "My profession is preserving artifacts. The book may be historically im¬portant. It had a connection with Rasputin I understand."

"Yeah. I think it did. But he didn't think shit about Rasputin." He suddenly frowned. "I told you. The book was tossed. If that's all you wanted to know, you can hit the road."

"That's not quite all I wanted to know," Emily said. "Why did you go to Moscow five months ago, Mr. Zelov?"

"That's all." He pushed away from the bar. "Now you're sticking your nose into my business. I wanted to see my family's home, asshole. I wanted to search for my roots."

"Could we see Mikhail Zelov's letters and journals you spoke about?" Emily asked.

"I don't give a shit. They're all on record with the court as testi¬mony when we broke the will." He was struggling to get off the stool. "I've had enough of you. You're bad news. I'm going to go back to the tables before you bring me bad luck."

She was losing him. In another minute he'd be leaving her.

She reached out her palm that held the black nodule Garrett had given her and grasped the arm of Zelov's jacket. "One more question. Was there a hammer in Mikhail Zelov's effects?"

"What?" Zelov's cheeks became even ruddier. "That's a stupid question. Why would-Get out. I'm a good customer here. I'll have them toss you out on your ear. I've been patient enough because you looked-Out."

"I'm going, Mr. Zelov. Thanks for your time." She slipped off the stool and headed for the exit.

She glanced back over her shoulder as she opened the heavy glass door. Zelov wasn't going back to the tables. He was heading for the French doors leading to the terrace.

And he was reaching for his cell phone.

"He's heard about the hammer," Emily said as soon as she reached the car. Excitement was tingling through her. "I know it."

"From what I heard, I think he has, too." Garrett held the car door open for her. "And we were lucky he was drunk and transparent as glass." He got back into the car and looked at Dardon. "Ready? It should be coming any time now."

Dardon lifted the headset to his ear. "He's already dialing. He probably had to get somewhere he'd get a clear signal. There's too much electronic interference in casinos."

"He was heading for the terrace," Emily said. "You're recording him? You can do that from out here?"

"With the help of that little bug you planted." Garrett nodded. "Piece of cake with the right equipment. I didn't think we'd get much out of him, but I hoped your asking the questions would send him running."

Dardon nodded. "But we're not getting much. Zelov is in a panic, but the man he's talking to is only impatient, not informative." He lis¬tened a moment, then turned the switch. "That's it. He hung up." He looked at Garrett. "Do you want to stick around and see if he makes any other calls?"

"No." He started the car and drove down the driveway. "But I want to hear that call, and I want you to start trying to trace it. We'll check into a motel and go over it. Do you have a general location?"

Dardon nodded. "I think it was somewhere in Russia."

"That's pinning it down. "

"Best I can do right now." He looked back down at his board. "That may be the best I can do, period, if the line is as protected as I think. We may have to call in an expert to tap a phone-company database."

Zelov had called Russia, Emily thought. Who in Russia had reached out tentacles to touch her, touch Zelov, touch Garrett? Deadly tenta¬cles. Even drunk, Zelov had been afraid when she'd mentioned the hammer.

"Okay?" Garrett asked, glancing at her.

She nodded. "He was nervous when I was talking about the Book of Living, too. He was lying then."

Garrett nodded. "I'd be very curious to read what's in that Book of

Living. It might just lead us where we want to go." He glanced back at Dardon. "Providing Dardon can't point the way."

"I'm working on it," Dardon muttered. "But I'm no expert. I think we may have to call in Pauley to do his wizardry."

"Then we'll do it," Garrett said. "But first I want to hear that call. I saw a Holiday Inn about a mile off the freeway…"

"HERE'S THE DISC." DARDON handed Garrett the black case at the door of his room at the Holiday Inn. "Suppose I work on the lo¬cation a little more before I give it up to Pauley."

"No, get him now." Garrett unlocked the door and let Emily precede him into the room. "Tell him I want him here tomorrow morning."

"It will cost you."

"Everything does," Garrett said. "But it may cost me more to delay."

"Whatever you say." He turned and strolled down the hall toward his room. "I'm glad to give it up to Pauley. Though you know he's go¬ing to be condescending as hell."

"Who's Pauley?" Emily asked, as Garrett came in and shut the door.

"Mark Pauley. He's sort of a techno-wizard in computers and all things electronic. If anyone can pin down the location of Zelov's call, he'll be able to do it. He's the best hacker I've ever known." He glanced around the room. "Set up your computer and we'll play that CD. There's usually a coffeemaker in these rooms, and I could use some cof¬fee. Maybe it's on the bathroom vanity." He went into the bathroom. "Yeah, here it is."

Emily heard the sound of running water as she opened the laptop and set it on the desk. "It's up. Hurry, dammit."

"We've got time." He came out of the bathroom a few minutes later and handed her a cup of coffee. "And the call was very short, Dardon said."

"That doesn't mean we won't learn something from it." She took the disc he handed her and slipped it into the computer. "I want to know now."

He sat down in the chair at the desk and leaned back. "Then play it."

She pressed the button.

A sound of dialing and Zelov's heavy breathing. Then the call was picked up on the other end.

Russian. She realized they were both speaking in Russian. Disap¬pointment surged through her. "Dammit."

"You don't speak Russian?"

"No. You do, don't you?"

He nodded. "Pretty well."

He speaks nine languages, Irana had told her.

She opened the desk drawer and pulled out stationery and a pen. She set it in front of him and stopped the disc. "Write it down. I want every word, every intonation, every pause."