Iris Johansen - Deadlock

"Stop protecting me, Garrett. I will do it," Irana said. "I should do it."

Her tone was totally, almost passionately, determined. Emily re¬membered the chill she had felt when Irana had told her that it was meant that she come here.

Irana glanced at Emily as if she had read her mind. "Stop worry¬ing." She smiled. "After all, isn't it true that I'm the best qualified? I will meet him at his residency in full daylight. Nothing will happen." She got to her feet. "Now I will finish getting dressed and call Bishop Dimitri."

"He may not see you," Emily said.

"I believe he will see me." She headed for the bathroom. "In fact, I'm quite sure he will see me."

"I suppose God told you he would?" Emily asked. "Heavens no. It's just a feeling. We all have these feelings occa¬sionally."

"Why don't I go with you?"

She chuckled. "My feelings say no. It will be fine, Emily." She disappeared into the bathroom.

"I don't want her to go alone," Emily said. "Why won't she lis¬ten?"

"Maybe she objects to you trying to protect her. I've heard inde¬pendent women have a tendency to violently resent it." "That's not amusing."

"I know. It's a big problem." He reached out and took her hand. "I'm not going to let her go see the bishop without protection. She'd object to me going, but I'll have Dardon drive her and stay close."

Relief rushed through her. "I know she's right, and visiting the bishop shouldn't be-I just don't like the idea."

"You have a 'feeling'?"

She nodded. "Dardon won't let her out of his sight?" He nodded. "And I know that won't be enough for you, so we'll be parked in a car two blocks away, just in case."

She didn't speak for a moment. "Irana won't like it." "Will that stop you?" "Hell, no," Emily said.

"Great." He grinned. "It will give me fuel for future discussions on the subject of protective interference." He got up and moved to¬ward the door. "I'll go talk to Dardon."

BISHOP DIMITRI LEANED BACK in his leather chair after he had hung up the phone. Why had he consented to see Irana Povak? She had given him a brief description of herself and her background, but just because she had mentioned Emily Hudson should not have made him halt his objection and agree. Perhaps he should have refused and let his housekeeper turn her away if she appeared on his doorstep. It would have been prudent. It would have been safer.

But he didn't want to be safe any longer, he thought wearily. His soul was sick to death of protecting himself when he was not impor¬tant. Who knew what was right or wrong? All his life he had been cer¬tain of his judgment and his creed. Where had that certainty gone? Why had he stepped beyond those borders?

He slowly reached out and dialed Peter Joslyn. "I've agreed to see Irana Povak. She says she is a friend of Emily Hudson."

"I know who she is," Joslyn said. "Staunton told me. It's a mistake to see her, Dimitri."

"I wanted you to tell me that. I wanted an excuse to turn her away." He looked out the window at the red roses blooming in the garden. It was too late for roses, but Joslyn had given him a hardy variety that bloomed several times a year. "And when a man looks for excuses, it usually means he's wrong." He paused. "Are we wrong, Peter?"

Silence. "I don't know. We probably are wrong. But we can't go back."

"No, we can't go back." It was too late. Too much had happened. Too many lives had been lost. "But perhaps we can make peace."

"I don't like the sound of that. Look, I'm on my way over. Don't talk to anyone until I get there."

"Only Irana Povak. I've been sitting here and gazing out at the beautiful roses that you gave me and wondering why I gave her per¬mission to come. Do you know what I decided? Sometimes God sends a messenger, and if we're wise, we don't shut him out. Perhaps I felt that this woman was my messenger."

"Dimitri, you're just tired and discouraged. Let's talk, and we can come-"

"You're right, I'm tired. And I'm feeling very old today." He rose to his feet. "I'm going out to my rose garden and sit in the sunshine and wait for Irana Povak."

"Don't see her," Joslyn said quickly. "I'll be there as soon as I can. Put her off. Don't do anything that-"

"Good-bye, Peter." He hung up, then turned off his phone. He moved toward the French doors that led to the garden. The sun was beckoning and he knew that the heady scent of the roses would sur¬round that bench near the fountain. His housekeeper would show Irana Povak to the garden when she arrived.

Come, messenger. Cleanse my soul.

THE RESIDENCY WAS A LARGE brick building on the outskirts of Ekaterinaburg surrounded by several equally-prestigious-appearing buildings. Irana gazed out the window at the wide arched windows and heavy mahogany door as Dardon pulled over to the curb in front of it. "Very impressive," she murmured as she opened the passenger door. "Okay, Dardon, go away."

"Nope. I have to stay with you. Orders."

"And my orders are for you to either go away or wait here." She moved toward the door. "I don't want you getting in my way."

"What difference does it make if I come with you? I'll keep my mouth shut."

She didn't know why she was being insistent. She was operating on instinct alone. "It will make a difference. Stay here." She climbed the three steps to the front door alcove. "I'm sure that Garrett and Emily will consider that close enough."

"You're wrong, Irana," Emily said as she came around the corner. She held up her hand as Irana opened her lips. "Garrett said that we should wait a block away so that you wouldn't be annoyed with us. I thought about it and decided that I don't care if you're annoyed. You and Garrett have done whatever you thought best for me since the moment we met. Why shouldn't I do the same? I'll give you your space. I'll sit in the anteroom while you have your talk with Bishop Dimitri, but I'm going to be a hell of a lot closer than a block away."

Irana gazed at her a moment, then smiled. "I'd have to knock you out to keep you from coming with me, wouldn't I?"

"If you think you're tough enough."

"I'm tough enough, but it's hard to overcome the power of affec¬tion with force. It gets too complicated." She reached out to ring the doorbell. "And it warms my heart that you care for me. But I truly think that I'll get more information if I'm alone with the bishop. When I spoke to him on the phone, I got the vague impression that he wants to-" She shrugged. She wasn't sure she could describe what she had felt in that moment when she had heard Bishop Dimitri's voice on the phone. "So you may guard me from a very respectable distance. Understand?"

"I didn't expect anything else. I just didn't want you to be alone."

"I'm not alone." She pressed the doorbell. "Ever since I decided to come here, I knew I wasn't alone." Her face lit with her warm smile. "And now I have you, too."

BISHOP DIMITRI WAS OLDER than he had sounded on the phone, Irana thought as she walked down the path toward him. His hair was snow-white, and his brown eyes indented with deep lines. He was staring thoughtfully, almost dreamily, into the waters of the fountain.

He looked up and smiled. "I've been waiting for you." He studied her face and nodded. "Yes, it's you I've been waiting for. Sit down, child."

"I'm not a child, Bishop Dimitri."

"You are to me. I've reached my eightieth year. Not that age mat¬ters. The soul is eternal." His smiled faded. "But if the soul is weighed down, it can't seem to see eternity. You understand that, don't you?"

"Yes, I understand that."

"I thought so. A messenger would sense many things."

"Messenger?" Irana shook her head. "I'm not a child, I'm not a messenger. I've only come to ask you a few questions."

"I know." He gazed at the roses across the path. "And I will answer. Do you know there are millions of children in this world that live in garbage and dung and never see a flower? How sad that is."