And Then You Die (9 page)

“I'll try him again tomorrow before we leave.” He paused. “But you shouldn't worry too much. He'll be in the hills close to Tenajo and unreachable by phone.”

“But you'll still try?”

“No problem,” he said.

Gentleness? She had to be mistaken. She stood up and moved toward the stairs. “I called Dr. Kenwood this afternoon. Josie's doing fine.”

“That's good.”

“You bet it is. I'll see you in the morning.”

She could feel his gaze on her back as she climbed the stairs. It was strange how comfortable she was becoming with him. Well, anybody would probably become comfortable with a tiger if caged with the tiger for any length of time. That didn't mean she should trust Kaldak.

But she did trust him or she wouldn't have let him talk her into remaining silent. Dear God, she was tired of arguing with herself as well as Kaldak. She had made a decision. Now she had to stop questioning and teetering back and forth. She had done enough of that all her life. She couldn't afford not to act with sureness and authority now.

Emily, who had never needed anyone, needed her. She had to clear her mind of everything but that one important truth. To hell with Kaldak's safe house. She would give Yael Nablett one more day. If he didn't call with word of Emily, she would go back.

Kaldak could save the world. She would concentrate on saving Emily.

“Anthrax,” Ramsey repeated. “Christ, I can't keep this under wraps, Kaldak.”

“Go ahead. Tell the president. See what he does about it with no hard documentation. He's great on documentation. Even if we show him the CDC report, there's no proof Tenajo could happen here.”

“Shit.”

“Right.”

“It may be too late by the time we get proof, and then it's the Company's ass on the line again. Politicians will sidestep quicker than you can blink. How much time do you think we have?”

“God knows. We may be on borrowed time already. I think he's almost ready to go.” He paused. “But he's waiting for something.”

“What?”

“I'm not sure. Have you managed to tap his phone?”

“Not his cellular. Only the one in his office.”

“What have you found out about Morrisey?”

“Nothing much. He's evidently in Esteban's pay. We got the impression he was looking for someone for him. He's called Esteban several times lately from different cities in the U.S. Is he important?”

Kaldak had the uneasy feeling that he was very important. “He may be. Galvez said he's been faxing and phoning Esteban for a long time. Find him.”

“You think we haven't been trying?”

“Try harder. What about the lab in Iowa?”

“You told me about it just the day before yesterday, for God's sake. I had to pull the FBI into it. They have more domestic contacts.”

“What about the Cheyenne connection?”

“Nothing yet. No sign of any counterfeiting activity. No cases of anthrax reported.”

“There probably won't be any cases reported in advance of the strike this time. Esteban is almost through experimenting. What about De Salmo? Heard anything more?”

“Only that he's dropped out of sight.” There was a pause. Then Ramsey added, “I want Bess Grady, Kaldak.”

He'd known that was coming. “The CDC is the only place Esteban would trace me to, and I made sure I wasn't followed. I'm heading for a safe house tomorrow. You can't have her.”

“I could take her.”

“That's what you'd have to do.” He added softly, “And do you really want to piss me off that much, Ramsey?”

“Don't give me that shit. Remember, I made you what you are.”

Ramsey was actually proud of the assassin he had created. Kaldak had never realized that. “The hell you did. You gave me the tools and showed me how to use them. Nakoa made me what I am.”

Another silence. “You're lucky that you're in a unique position in this operation. I'll allow you to have your way . . . for now. Keep me posted.” Ramsey hung up.

Lucky? Kaldak wearily leaned back on the couch. No one connected with this mess was lucky. Not him, not those people in Tenajo, and most certainly not Bess Grady.

He just hoped to hell De Salmo was on his way to Timbuktu and not Atlanta.

Bess did not dream of Emily that night. She dreamed of Danzar.

She woke in the middle of the night with tears streaming down her cheeks.

And Kaldak standing over her in the darkness.

She jerked upright in bed, her heart pounding furiously. For a moment she thought she was back in that hospital room in San Andreas.

“I heard you crying out,” he said quietly. “I thought you'd want me to wake you.”

She wiped her cheeks with the backs of her hands. “Thank you.”

He shrugged. “We have enough nightmares to face every day without tolerating them at night.” He turned and moved toward the stairs. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

No questions. No conversation. Just that single act of understanding.

She lay back down. She had thought she was getting better. She hadn't dreamed of Danzar for nearly three weeks. She
was
better. She wouldn't accept anything else.

She closed her eyes and took deep, steadying breaths. That usually helped.

It didn't this time. She started to shake. After several minutes she got out of bed and headed for the bathroom. She took an aspirin and drank a glass of water. She was shaking so badly, she almost dropped the glass.

Why wouldn't it go away? She sank down on the tile floor and hunched there, linking her arms over her knees. Think of something else. Think of Tyngate. Think of Julie or Emily or––

“Okay?” Kaldak was squatting beside her.

Oh, God, she didn't want anyone to see her like this. “No, I'm not okay. Go away.”

“I tried to do that. It didn't work.” He sat down and crossed his legs. “So I have to do something about it.”

“Why? It's none of your business. I'll be fine.”

“Is it Tenajo?”

“Do you feel guilty? No, it's not Tenajo.”

“Esteban?”

“Do you think I'd let that son of a bitch do this to me?” She blinked furiously to keep back the tears. “Will you please go away?”

“No, neither of us will sleep if you keep on like this. You're shaking so bad, you're going to break your tailbone on that hard tile.” He pushed back her hair from her forehead in a gentle gesture. It reminded her of the way he touched Josie. “I think you have to talk to me, Bess.”

“The hell I do.”

“Talk to me about Danzar.”

She stiffened. “What?”

“Danzar. That's what you were muttering when I woke you.”

She moistened her lips. “Then why did you ask about Tenajo?”

“A process of elimination.”

“How analytical.”

“Sorry, that's the way I am.” He glanced around the brightly lit bathroom. “And my analysis of the situation tells me that this isn't the spot to get you to relax.” He stood up, leaned down, and lifted her to her feet. “Bed.”

“What?”

“Don't worry, I meant what I said. Relaxation.” He carried her to the bed and set her down. “Not sex.”

She looked at him in astonishment. “I didn't think you meant anything else.”

“I know. I just thought I'd throw in something that would distract you.” He tucked the blanket around her. “I realize I'm not what you'd call a sex object. Unless you get off on Dracula. Actually, there are some women who do.” He got up and turned off the bathroom light.

The bedroom was plunged into darkness.

He sat down beside her and touched her arm. “You're still shaking, but not as much.”

“Then you can go away.”

“Not after I've gone to all this trouble. I don't want it to happen again tonight. I need my sleep. Talk to me. I won't go away until you do. Is Danzar in Croatia?”

“Yes.”

“How long since you were in Croatia?”

“Three months.”

“I've never heard of Danzar.”

“It was only a tiny village.”

“Was?”

“I guess it's still there.”

“You don't know?”

“They didn't burn it.”

“What did they do to it?”

The babies . . .

“What did they do, Bess?”

“I don't want to talk about it.”

“Pretend I'm Emily.”

“I didn't talk to Emily about Danzar.” She hadn't told those details to anyone. Not even that shrink in the hospital in Sarajevo. Why should she talk to Kaldak?

“Because I don't care. I'm almost a stranger to you.” He read her thoughts again. “It would be like talking to yourself. What did they do, Bess?”

Blood. So much blood . . .

“What?” Kaldak repeated.

“The babies . . .”

“What babies?”

“There was an . . . orphanage. I was doing a photo essay on the orphans of war, and I went to Danzar. The orphanage was crowded, but the kids . . . It always amazes me how kids can be happy in almost any circumstance. Give them a little food, a bed, companionship, and they'll smile at you. There was one little boy. Niko. He couldn't have been more than three. He followed me around while I was taking pictures. He was so––” She stopped, and it was a moment before she could continue. “I kept going back. At first I thought it was the story, and then I thought I was just being a good guy. So many couples in America can't have kids, and if they saw the photos . . . But then I realized it was Niko. I didn't have any business trying to adopt him. It was all wrong. I was single, I was always traveling, but I knew I had to have him with me. He was mine. I started the paperwork.”

The dogs howling.

“And did you adopt him, Bess?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

What are you? Some sort of ghoul?

“Why not, Bess?”

“He died,” she whispered. “They all died.”

“How?”

“The guerrillas. A truce was supposed to be in effect, but there were still attacks. I was sixty miles away from Danzar on another story when we heard about it. I made my driver turn around and go back to Danzar. The guerrillas had already pulled out but the dogs were howling. They kept howling and howling. . . . I went to the orphanage. The children were dead, butchered. Niko was in the kitchen. Who would kill a baby? Monsters. They had to be monsters.”

“Yes.”

“I went through the orphanage and took more pictures. I knew that they'd deny it once peace came. It would be covered up and forgotten. That's the way it always is. I couldn't let that happen. I had to show––” She could barely talk. She was trying to stop the sobs. “I couldn't let it––”

“Shh, I know.”

“No, you don't. You weren't there.”

He was silent a moment and then stood up. “I'd like to comfort you, but you don't want that from me. You don't want me here right now at all. You're afraid I'll think you're not as tough as you should be.” His hand touched her hair with the same gentleness he had displayed in the bathroom. “You're wrong. I'll be right back.”

He was gone. She heard his steps on the staircase.

She lay there with the tears running down her face. The sobs soon stopped, but the tears still came.

The babies . . .

What had she done? She felt as if her insides had been torn out. Once she had started, the words tumbled out and couldn't be stopped. Why spit out all those memories and pain to Kaldak?

It's like talking to yourself.

In a way it had been like that. He'd removed himself, stepped away and let the words pour out into the darkness. And then he'd left her so that she'd have no loss of dignity. Why had––

“Is it okay if I turn on the light?” Kaldak was back, a huge silhouette at the top of the stairs.

“Sure.” She took a deep breath and hurriedly wiped her eyes with the blanket. “But why ask now? I don't remember you asking permission to turn it off.”

“Different strokes for different games.” He crossed to the bathroom and switched on the light there. “The situation isn't the same.” He came back to her. “Drink this.”

He was holding a glass of milk.

“Good heavens, warm milk?” she asked. “Is that one of your mother's remedies?”

“Cold milk.” He smiled faintly. “If I went to all the trouble of heating it, you'd think it was another domestic ploy.”

She looked at him over the rim of the glass as she took a sip. He didn't seem at all domestic. For the first time she realized that he was barefoot and bare-chested and his dark hair was rumpled. He looked muscular, powerful.

And she probably looked like a mess. Thank God, he'd turned on only the bathroom light. She felt vulnerable enough as it was. Was that why he hadn't turned on the more revealing overhead light?

“Drink all of it.”

She took another sip and handed the glass back to him. “That's enough.”

“Okay.” He stood looking at her. “Do you mind if I ask what happened to the pictures you took at Danzar?”

“The film was confiscated.”

“What?”

“You heard me. When I got back to army headquarters, the colonel confiscated the film. He said it was inflammatory and that publishing it would be detrimental to the peace process. I showed him inflammatory. I nearly went crazy. I screamed and ranted. I notified every politician I knew. None of it did any good. The army doctors said I was having a breakdown and stuck me in a hospital in Sarajevo. They kept me there for weeks. When I got out, the massacre had been neatly covered up.” She smiled bitterly. “So even we cover up when it suits us. It made me sick. Christ, I hate lies.”

“You have a right.” He paused. “I'm sorry it was so rough on you. Do you think you can sleep now?”

Sleep? She felt ready to collapse. “Yes.”

“Good, then maybe I can too. Good night.”

“Good night.”

He turned off the light and left, all brusque, abrupt, cool, as if that moment of intimacy had never happened. Intimacy? He was a stranger.

But he wasn't a stranger. Already, he was more familiar to her than many people she had known for years. She knew the terse, crisp way he spoke, the intensity masked by impassiveness. She had even seen through his menacing demeanor and detected a measure of humor and gentleness. Good God, it was like bonding with Jack the Ripper.

No, Kaldak killed out of necessity, not for pleasure. He had shown her violence, but he had not been wantonly brutal.