Iris Johansen - Deadlock

"I'm not saying-" She stopped as Dardon and Pauley reached the car. It was just as well. She was too emotional right now to think, much less speak clearly. But she had to say one thing. "You saved my life. I'm not about to judge you." She looked straight ahead. "Now, can we please get out of here?"

Tangiers, Morocco

BORG STRAIGHTENED AWAY FROM the curved archway as he saw Irana Povak come out of the Roman Catholic church across the street. She slipped her scarf off her head and started down the winding street toward the clinic. Watch and wait, Staunton had said. Find an oppor¬tunity. Any repeat routine activity might be the ticket that would let him get his hands on her.

The Povak woman had only been inside the church for forty-five minutes, but that might be an opportunity. The bitch had once been a nun, and she might make regular visits to the church for prayer and confession.

That could be his chance. God knows, he didn't see any other way. As he'd told Staunton, she was never out of the sight of one of Dar¬don's guards. Even now he could see a security guard who was strolling after her at a discreet distance but still staying close.

It might be better to be inside the church when she got there to¬morrow. He'd managed to bug her cell phone, but that might not help get the information he needed. He'd ask some discreet questions at the clinic or bribe someone to tell him when she left the clinic to go to the church.

And, if he was prepared, there might be no more waiting and watching. He'd swoop down and take her before she knew what was happening and give her to Staunton. He smiled at the thought. Borg knew Staunton, and if he was frustrated about Emily Hudson, he wouldn't hesitate to play games with Irana Povak. Borg was beginning to look forward to those games.

By all means, go to church and say your prayers, bitch. You'll need them.

EMILY LOOKED DOWN AT THE Atlantic as their jet took off over the water. "So easy," she murmured. "No customs. No Homeland Se¬curity…"

"Not easy at all. It takes a great deal of money and knowing the right people," Garrett said. "Bribes for this kind of thing are very ex¬pensive in this day and age."

"But all it takes is money." She looked up at him. "It scares me. All these terrorists' threats, and all it takes is money to skirt around the tightest security measures."

"What can I say?"

"Nothing. I'm abusing the system, and I have no right to com¬plain. But I am complaining. I resent the fact that it can be done. I re¬sent the fact that my country is at risk."

"Not from me, Emily."

"No." She leaned back in her seat. "Not from you. In your way, you're one of the good guys."

He chuckled. "Whatever gave you that idea?" "Irana told me."

"Then of course it must be true." He shook his head. "And after what happened before we got on this plane, your faith in her judg¬ment isn't shaken?"

"No." Emily reached for the envelope containing the court rec¬ords. "Because it's not entirely her judgment. Now, I'm going to read these translations and see if I can get a handle on Mikhail Zelov."

"Do you want me to take some of that testimony and work on it?"

"No, I want to do it myself. Why don't you go see if Pauley has managed to hack into that phone company database?"

"I'm obviously being sent on my way." He stood up. "By all means let me run along. I wouldn't want to disturb you." He glanced back at her. "Actually, that's a lie. I do want to disturb you. But not that way, Emily."

Damn him.

She watched him walk away toward the seats near the cockpit, where Dardon and Pauley were sitting. He did disturb her. Just notic¬ing the way he walked bothered her. Springy, catlike, athletic. What the hell was wrong with her?

She knew what was wrong. She had become too aware of him as her emotions had come back to life. That sexual magnetism was grow¬ing stronger the longer she was with him.

Ignore it.

Work.

Read about Mikhail Zelov.

GARRETT DIDN'T COME BACK until they were over Sweden. "You've been working for hours. Am I permitted to talk to you now?" He dropped down in the chair beside her. "And, no, Pauley hasn't gotten through yet. He says he's getting closer."

"Good," she said absently as she looked up from the transcript. She was glad to see him, glad to see anyone who would bring her out of Zelov's world. She moved her shoulders as if shrugging off a bur¬den. That's what she felt like, she thought. Heavy and carrying a crushing weight of evil and hatred. "There wasn't much in his letters except arrogance and demands on his family. It's in his journal that he let's you see him as he is."

"Was he as nuts as his family claimed?"

"Maybe. Like Hitler was nuts. He wanted to take over the world. He hated everything and everyone. He wanted to be emperor or the Pope. I can't tell you the contempt he felt for Tsar Nicholas. It's in¬credible that he managed to hide it from him. He worked there in the royal household and saw him almost every day."

"What about his relationship with Rasputin?"

"He regarded him as a puppet, as we thought. They were both of peasant birth, and Zelov was able to feed Rasputin's ambition and push him toward being the figurehead he wanted him to be."

"Why did he want a figurehead? If he had that kind of ego, I'd think he'd be willing to risk trying to take the power himself."

"He would have risked it. There was nothing wrong with his nerve." She flipped through the pages until she came to the one that she wanted. "Here, read this. It's one of the passages from when he and Rasputin were at the height of their power. It may give you an in¬sight into Zelov." She leaned back, watching as he read the passage.

/ had to sternly chastise Rasputin today. His arrogance and woman¬izing are beginning to make the Tsarina suspicious of him. She is a fool, but she has eyes to see and ears to hear the gossip. How can I convince her that he is a holy man when he fornicates with half the women of the city? Holy man? He is a joke. He has a few meager talents, but I am the one who could shake their souls if I decided to unleash my powers. I am the holy one. I could heal that woman's puny young son if I decided to do it. Instead, I had to stop only one of his bleeding fits and give credit to Rasputin. Now she believes he is a god.

I am the god.

I was tempted to come forward on that day and tell them all what fools they were, how little they were in comparison to me. And then I thought of doing what Rasputin is doing and mesmerizing all this court with my power and personality. I could do it. I can do anything.

No, I must subdue this anger. I chose this role, and I must live with it. I set Rasputin to play the sorcerer and holy man of God for a reason. These fools are uneasy around me. I smile. I keep my hatred close to my heart. Still, they distance themselves from me. I believe they sense that they have a god in their midst.

Yet the women of the town spread their legs for thatfool, Rasputin. There are rumors that he may be sleeping with the Tsarina and I can¬not tolerate that stupidity. I have the Tsar within my sights, and I will soon have everything I wish from him.

I believe I will take Rasputin back to Jerusalem on a pilgrimage and get him away from the Tsarina. Then when he comes back with 'supposed' new holy powers, I can start fresh. If he's good and obeys me, perhaps I'll give Rasputin one of the grand duchesses to play with. They're pretty enough, and I can make them think coupling with Rasputin will get them closer to God. Much safer for me and Rasputin than his bedding the Tsarina. Though she's so enamored with the idea of his being holy that she probably thinks the Church would bless their fornication.

I think it's time I took aim at the Church. It has too much influ¬ence with the Tsar. I will have to break its hold on him even if it means destroying or discrediting those greedy bastards. Churches can fall even as monarchies can fall. Priests can be burned at the stake even as Tsars can be shot and bludgeoned.