Iris Johansen - Deadlock

"No." Garrett crossed the tent and stood before her. "Listen to me." He stared intently into her eyes, and said softly, "You're not thinking straight. You're hurt and almost in shock. It's not going to happen. Not now. If I have to do it, I'll knock you out and carry you out of here."

He would do it. She could sense the violence in him. She had watched him murder a man. Angel of Death.

"You know about killing," she said unevenly. "If I go with you now, will you help me find him again so that I can kill him?"

Garrett gazed at her for a long moment. "You must have had a hell of a time here."

"Will you help me?"

He shrugged. "Why not?" He started toward the slit in the tent. "Now can we put some distance between us and these bastards? I want to get a good head start before the C-4 goes off in six hours."

"Explosives?"

"I set enough charges in the tents and the vehicles to cut down the pursuit."

"The huts, too?"

"No, I couldn't get close enough." His lips twisted. "So you can't count on Staunton's being blown up. Sorry."

"You should be sorry." She limped toward him. "No one deserves it more."

"What's wrong with your leg?"

She nodded at the dead man. "Shafir didn't like me running from him. He stabbed me in the calf as punishment. Didn't you see it happen?"

"No, I came in when you stuck the knife in him. Are you going to be able to walk?"

"It's not bad. I can walk."

He glanced at the bandit. "Son of a bitch."

"Yes." She met Garrett's eyes. "But he's nothing compared to Staunton."

He studied her face before he turned away. "Then maybe it's a good thing Staunton's going to be a dead man soon." He disappeared through the slit in the tent.

Yes, Garrett could help her. Those last words had been quiet and yet the deadliness could not have been more evident.

Angel of Death…

EMILY AND GARRETT HAD ONLY gotten a few yards beyond the boulders when a man appeared out of the driving snow. "You've got her?"

"Yes, I told you to get the hell out of here, Karif. I can handle it from now on."

"Don't be selfish." The man grinned, his dark eyes bright. "This is the first fun I've had since you left my mountains. I've been bored."

"Get out, dammit. Go home and keep your mouth shut."

"As you like. I just wanted to make sure that risking my neck was worthwhile." He nodded at Emily. "He'll get you home. Trust him."

He didn't wait for an answer but turned and a moment later was hidden by the thick veil of snow.

She stared after him. "He's Afghan. Can you trust him?"

"Hell, yes. It was Karif who managed to find out where you were. But I told him to go home and keep his mouth shut, dammit. The tribes don't like anyone dealing with outsiders. That's why the CIA wasn't able to find you." He started forward down the path. "Come on. We're losing time."

"OKAY?" GARRETT CALLED BACK to her.

She could barely discern him on the path ahead of her. "Yes." It was a lie. The snow was stinging Emily's cheeks, and she was shaking with cold. They had been walking for hours, and exhaustion was drag¬ging at her every limb. "How much farther?"

"Another ten minutes, and we'll get to the place where I hid the jeep," Garrett said. "Keep moving."

Keep moving, she thought numbly. Easy to say. She'd be lucky just to stay on her feet. One good thing was that she could no longer feel the pain in her calf. Or maybe that wasn't good. Frostbite?

"Do you need help?" Garrett shouted back at her.

Yes. But if Garrett was forced to help her, it would slow them both down. "No." She lowered her head to keep the snow from blinding her and lurched forward. "Let's just get to that damn jeep."

"Yell if you change your mind. I don't want to have to come back and pick you up out of a drift."

"You won't. Shut up. It's hard to breathe in this wind, much less talk."

He was silent. "Sorry. I'll try to be less verbose." He disappeared beyond the veil of snow. "The next thing you'll hear me say is that we've made it."

If those words were ever spoken, Emily thought. Ten minutes he had said, but it seemed more like ten hours. Keep moving.

Don't fall.

It would be over soon. She couldn't see. Snow. Wind. Ice. Don't fall.

"Come on." Garrett was suddenly beside her, his arm around her waist. "It's done. Just a few feet more."

She could make out the dim outline of the jeep a short distance away. "Thank God."

He was opening the door of the jeep and half-lifting her into the passenger seat. "You'll be warm as soon as I can rev up the motor and get some heat going." He was running around the vehicle and jump¬ing into the driver's seat. "Hold on."

Heat? The concept seemed totally alien at this moment. Lord, she wished she could stop shaking. "Where are you taking me?"

He turned on the ignition. It sputtered and didn't fire. He tried it again and it roared to life. "Out of these mountains. I have a friend waiting in a helicopter in the foothills."

"How could he fly in this weather?"

"With difficulty. But it's not a blizzard farther south. It won't be this bad once we get out of the mountains. We'll be able to make it to the plains, then we'll go by ground to Kabul." He reached over the backseat and grabbed a blanket. "Wrap up in this. It may help until the heater starts functioning." He frowned. "Stop shaking, dammit."

"Don't be stupid. Don't you think I would if I could?" She nestled beneath the blanket. She could barely feel the woolen cover, and it didn't stop the chills. "Do you think they're after us yet?"

"No, the C-4 hasn't had time to go off, and it's only been a little over four hours. We should have time to make it to the helicopter. It would have to be pure bad luck if someone barged into Shafir's tent, and since his intentions toward you were probably known, I doubt if that would happen."

"Four hours. It seems longer…" She leaned back on the headrest. 1 m very… tired.

"You can't go to sleep," he said sharply. "I have to drive, and I can't keep checking on you to make sure you're not going into hypo¬thermia."

"I won't go to sleep."

"Damn right you won't. Talk to me. Keep talking." "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't care. Tell me about your family. Your father was a well-known photographer, wasn't he?" "How did you know that?"

"You're famous. The media has made you the U.N. poster figure of the decade. When you get back to civilization, the paparazzi are go¬ing to be fighting to get at you."

It hadn't occurred to her that she would be facing the nightmare of publicity. "No," she whispered. "I can't deal with that now."

"Don't think about it. I wanted to jar you awake, not cause you to flip out. Tell me about your father."

"You really don't want to know."

"Talk to me."

"He was wonderful. We were best friends. He was fascinated by an¬tiquities and took me along on all his photo shoots around the world." "You liked it?"

"Yes, but I liked it more when he did the wildlife shoots for Na¬tional Geographic. We were by ourselves then. We'd spend weeks in the woods, tracking and camping out until he got just the right photo."

"Sounds great. Your mother?"

"She divorced him when I was two. She died four years later." "Is your father still alive?"

"He was killed in a car crash when I was in college." Terrible night. Heartbreaking night. "You still miss him."

"Of course I do. I loved him. I'll always miss him. You don't for¬get the people you love just because they're not with you. You must know that."

"Do I?"

She rubbed her temple. "I don't know whether you do or not. I don't know anything about you."

"You don't have to know anything about me. All you have to know is that for this moment, this time, you're safe with me." He shrugged. "The rest can come later. Are you any warmer?"