Iris Johansen - Deadlock

He smiled. "I'll try to oblige."

"Don't try. Do it." She started the disc again.

His smile disappeared, and he frowned with concentration, his pen flying over the paper.

She sat on the edge of the bed, watching him. She was once again aware of the intensity, the intelligence in that face. She slowly sipped her coffee and waited for him to finish.

The conversation took only a few minutes. Garrett pushed the sheet of paper away from him and looked at her. "Done. The man Zelov called was definitely not Staunton. You agree?"

Emily nodded. The voice on the tape was smoother, deeper. "It never occurred to me that Nicholas Zelov would speak Russian," she said ruefully. "He seemed so dyed-in-the-wool American."

"I imagine the first Zelov clung very closely to his Russian roots. It seems to have carried down through his progeny." He stood up. "Sit here at the desk. The light is better, and my handwriting isn't wonderful." He smiled slightly. "Though I did try to obey instructions and convey into¬nations and pauses."

She sat down in the chair and picked up the sheet of paper. Garrett's handwriting was bold, dominant, and incisive. Like his character, she thought absently, but there were many more shadings to his personality. "You're right, your handwriting isn't wonderful, but it's clear. That's all that's important."

"I'm glad you can make it work." He lay back on the bed and propped himself up against the headboard. He lifted his cup to his lips. "Read. We'll talk later."

She was already reading.

"It's Zelov. Dammit, you promised me you'dprotect me. You said no one would know."

"I have no idea what you're talking about, Zelov. Are you drunk again?"

"I'm not drunk. Well, maybe I've had a little, but that doesn't change anything. I have a right to do whatever I want. You can't tell me what to do."

"I can tell you whatever I wish, Zelov. And you will listen re¬spectfully, then obey."

"Bullshit. You told me no one would know. You lied."

"Stop sputtering and tell me clearly and slowly what you mean."

"She asked about the book. She asked about Mikhail Zelov. She asked about my trip to Moscow." "Who asked you?" "That U.N. bitch." Pause. "Emily Hudson?"

"Yeah. It was her, but her hair was different…"

"Did she mention the amulets? What did you tell her, Zelov?"

"Nothing. I didn't tell her anything. I told her to go chase herself.

She didn't say a word about the amulets. But you've got to protect me. You've got to get her off me."

"How long ago did she leave?"

"Five minutes maybe."

"You fool. You incredible fool to take a chance like this. I'm hanging up."

"You can't do that. Talk to me. Tell me how you're going to-"

"I'm hanging up. Listen carefully. My promise will not be bro¬ken. But if you talk to Emily Hudson or anyone else again, you will be punished. Do you understand?"

"I'm not stupid. Of course, I understand. You can't threaten me. You can't do- "

The connection was broken.

Emily finished reading the last words, then went back and started to read the conversation again. Then she played the disc trying to memorize the sound, the intonations, of the man Zelov had called. She wanted to remember that voice if she heard it again. But they had no name. Why hadn't Zelov mentioned his name just one time, she wondered in frustration.

"Finished?" Garrett asked.

She nodded and leaned back in the chair. "But we haven't got a name, dammit."

"We'll get it." He finished his coffee and set the cup on the night¬stand. "But not much more."

"We know Zelov is definitely involved in something crooked. And that he did something for this man and was paid off. Did he give him that Book of Living*. Or did he give him the hammer?" She thought of something else. "Or the amulets. Plural. That meant there had to be more than the one we found in Nemid's wall."

"It would seem so." He paused. "But the man who paid Zelov off promised to protect him, and that may mean he'll try to rid him of us.

So I believe that we should get out of here and head for Moscow as soon as possible."

She shook her head. "Not until I get a transcript of Mikhail Zelov's letters and journals, the ones that were used at that trial."

He nodded. "I was going to send Dardon to Hartford to get copies as soon as the records office opened, but I have a lot for him to do. We'll go ourselves. I want to be there before Zelov gets sober enough to request that the documents be kept confidential. Though they can't be that revealing if they've been public for years."

"There could be something that will give us a lead. We've got to try."

"Easy, "Garrett said. "We are trying. I'm just saying that I don't want you to build up your hopes, then be disappointed."

"I don't care if I'm disappointed. I'll just go down another road." She stood up. "I'm going to my room. I'll see you in the morning. What time?"

"Six. I'll order room service for the three of us and we'll get moving." He swung his legs to the floor. "I'll walk you to your room." "That's not necessary."

"Yes, it is. And it's necessary for you to keep your door locked and not open it to anyone but me." He opened the hall door for her and followed her out into the corridor.

"You think that man Zelov called will send Staunton after us."

"Perhaps. It's an open game. We're not even sure Staunton is con¬nected to Nicholas Zelov yet."

"They're connected. I feel it." She stopped at her door. "And maybe we should stay here and let Staunton come to us."

"Not when we're ready to widen the circle."

"We can widen the circle later. I want Staunton now."

"What a bloodthirsty woman you are, Emily." He smiled down at her. He reached out and touched her lower lip with a forefinger. "And you look so wholesome and ail-American."

Her lip was suddenly tingling beneath his finger. An instant before, she had been only thinking of Staunton and how to trap him. Yet the moment he had touched her she had become acutely, physically aware of everything about Garrett. The spicy, male scent of him, the warmth of his body, his eyes looking down at her. How did he do that to her? She moved her head to avoid his touch. "I don't feel wholesome. And I do want Staunton's blood."

"You'll get it." His hand dropped away from her. "We'll get them all." He turned away. "But don't answer your door no matter whether you want it to be Staunton or not. Not without me beside you, and right now you're obviously not ready to let me occupy that position all night. We don't know how soon or in what manner that promise is go¬ing to be kept to Zelov."

STAUNTON CURSED AS HE SAW the name on his phone ID. Dammit, it was Babin. He didn't need this. He was pissed off enough that Borg had told him that Garrett had probably managed to get his hands on the amulet in Nemid's study. Borg had bribed one of the Afghani officials who had been crawling all over the library to describe the condition of the crime scene, and that hole in the drywall had not been Borg's work. Staunton didn't want to have to admit that to Babin before he got it back. The bastard hadn't wanted him to use the amulet to strike the deal with Nemid.

Staunton started talking the moment he picked up. "I was just go¬ing to call you. We plugged the leak in Kabul, but Garrett managed to get his hands on the amulet. Not that it will do him any good. No one can tell anything from it, and we'll take care of Garrett before he makes a connection."

"He's already made a connection," Babin said coldly. "I just re¬ceived a call from Nicholas Zelov squealing like a pig. Emily Hudson paid him a visit tonight. And if she was there, then Garrett must have been there, too."

Oh, shit.

"I didn't think Garrett would track him down quite so soon. As I said, I got rid of Nemid. He was the immediate threat."