In Search of the Dove (23 page)

“I know that. I hope he comes to the right conclusion.”

Now, despite Eden’s admonition, she had the feeling that he needed her. Would it help if she went and talked to him? she wondered, glancing at her watch. But it was late. He was probably in bed, and she certainly didn’t want to walk in on him there.

She was just closing the folder when the feeling of being watched made her look toward the doorway. Michael was standing with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, regarding her with intense gray eyes.

“Doing your homework?” he questioned.

“Trying to. There’s a lot to absorb.”

“So you’re still determined to go?”

“Yes.”

“Laura and I were sleeping together,” he said abruptly.

She gave him a measured look. “And whose idea was that?”

“Hers, although I wasn’t averse to going along with it. However, as the senior agent, I should have known better.”

“How did you feel about her?”
Did you love her, Michael?
Her fingers gripped the folder as she waited for his answer.

He looked toward the darkened windows. “I liked her. I shouldn’t have used her as a safety valve to let off steam.”

“Maybe she was using you. Did you ever think about that?”

“Agents on assignment aren’t supposed to get sexually involved with each other,” Michael insisted.

“Are you trying to say that if you hadn’t been lovers, she wouldn’t have gotten killed? That’s nonsense. How would that have prevented the ambush?”

“Maybe if I had been thinking a little more clearly, I would have seen the trap.”

“You’re still looking for a way to blame yourself.”

“No, I’m looking for a way to keep it from happening to you.”

She heard the anguish in his voice, knew that his concern for her was more than superficial. “Michael, I care a lot about you too. If I didn’t think I could help you, I wouldn’t be coming along.”

He moved into the room and took a seat at the other end of the couch. His gaze caressed her face, but he didn’t dare touch her.

“Jess, don’t you understand the risks? These people are ruthless. They didn’t hesitate to get your brother hooked on Dove. They tried to kill you—and me.”

“You can’t scare me off of this.”

“I wish I could. I have a job to do, and I can’t afford to worry about you too.”

“Then don’t. I’ll take care of myself.”

He sighed. “You know that’s only part of it. There’s a friend of mine down there on Royale Verde being tortured. I’ve got to help him, and I should be putting all my concentration on that assignment. But I can’t stop thinking about the session we had with Eden.” He paused. “And how much I’d like to escape to a very quiet bedroom and spend the night making love to you.”

She leaned toward him slightly. She ached for that too.

Their eyes locked for several heartbeats.

“Michael, you can’t help Jed until you know the situation down there. All you can do tonight is speculate and make contingency plans that will probably be worthless in the long run.”

“I’d still feel better if I could concentrate on the problem without so many distractions.”

She had to clench her hands together to stop herself from reaching out toward him. He’d had to cope with so much recently. “Accepting what comfort I could give you doesn’t mean you’re betraying Jed,” she finally said.

His gaze focused on her lips as if contemplating their taste and texture. She had spoken of comfort. It was much more than that. She’d awakened deep emotional needs he hadn’t wanted to admit existed. “Jess,” he began.

The temptation to draw him into her arms threatened to sweep her away. She loved this man deeply. But he wasn’t ready to deal with that now. If she surrendered to her desire for him, she’d be giving him the proof of his own doubts, and he’d use that against her in the morning.

“You’re a man of tremendous willpower,” she finished the sentence for him.

“Jess, I wish things were different.”

“I’ll see you at breakfast.”

He stood up and turned away. She had won a victory. But what had she lost?

* * *

T
HE NEXT DAY
Jessica found out just how quickly the Peregrine Connection could put its plans into action. The morning was taken up with several intensive briefing sessions. The Falcon’s strategy was to strike quickly before Talifero realized that a rescue mission had been mounted. To do that, he was counting on Jessica to supply Michael with inside information he would ordinarily be unable to obtain.

After being outfitted with suitcases that had everything from summer vacation clothes and black camouflage fatigues to electronics equipment and plastic explosives, the pair left that afternoon for Jamaica. That evening they had made contact with the CIA man, George Holcroft. His deep-sea fishing cruiser, the
Sea Turtle,
took them to Royale Verde. The name of the craft was deceptive because it had a powerful motor that could outrun any patrol boat. It also carried sensitive eavesdropping equipment that could pick up signals from twenty miles offshore.

The boat made short work of the distance between Jamaica and Royale Verde. By very early Friday morning they were tied up at a half-moon-shaped harbor at the south end of the island.

Jessica had been given the small forward stateroom while the men bunked down in the main cabin, which also served as a galley and sitting room. When she awoke to the gentle slapping of waves against the side of the craft, she was disoriented for a moment. Yesterday she had been in Virginia. The day before that, New Orleans.

Swinging her legs over the side of the bunk, she scrambled down and pulled on a pair of white cropped-cut pants and a knit top. When she emerged from the hatchway, the two men were already on deck studying a map of the island. Jessica was once more struck with how well the versatile Mr. Rome could adapt to a given environment. At the university he’d projected the image of street-wise student; near Harley’s he could have passed as a dock worker. Here on the
Sea Turtle,
dressed in a white polo shirt and shorts, Michael looked like a man who could tie a very competent reef knot and hold the helm steady even in stormy seas.

He glanced up and caught her staring. The coolly assessing expression in his gray eyes gave no hint of their complicated relationship. Without sparing the subject even a word, he’d made it clear he was going to block out their unfinished personal business for the duration of the assignment. She hoped she could match his professional demeanor.

Yet she could still discern an element of protectiveness in his actions. Last night, though he’d been anxious to assess the current situation at the Blackstone Clinic, he’d seen her exhaustion and sent her to bed without putting her psychic talents to any further test.

“How did you sleep?” he asked.

“Fine.”

“Good, because we’re going to need you in a little while.”

George waved her toward the galley refrigerator. “There’s some fruit and muffins in the fridge. Make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.” She looked out over the bay full of pleasure craft bobbing in the gentle waves. It didn’t seem like the departure point for a commando raid. Along the shore was a fishing village of white stucco houses with red tile roofs. It was terraced into the hillside that protected the harbor. The sky was a clear blue and the water an incredible aqua.

Jessica helped herself to a banana muffin and a slice of fresh pineapple and carried them back on deck where Michael and George were deep in discussion about the best way to make an assault on the clinic.

After she’d finished her light meal, Michael turned to her. “Now that we’re closer, I’d like your impressions of what’s going on in that compound.” His matter-of-fact tone of voice told Jessica he no longer doubted her ability to pick up information he had no other way of acquiring and that, since she had insisted on coming, he was going to make use of the talent.

Holcroft looked from the seasoned operative back to the young woman in a T-shirt and pedal pushers. He’d been assured Ms. Duval was a psychic and had already made some sort of contact with the agent being held by Talifero. That kind of claim didn’t impress him. There was a lot of mumbo jumbo that went on down on these islands. Most of it was for the benefit of the tourists. He wasn’t going to put his faith in clairvoyant intelligence gathering until he saw some proof.

“Perhaps we’d better go down to the main cabin,” Jessica suggested. “Do you have anything from the Blackstone Clinic?” she asked Holcroft.

He laughed. “How about the brochure they use to lure jetsetters with nutty relatives?” Opening another compartment, he pulled out a glossy booklet.

The color picture on the cover made her shiver slightly. It depicted one of the buildings she’d seen in her vision two days ago. “That should do.”

Down in the lounge, Michael waited while she made herself comfortable on one of the built-in couches. “I’d like to know whether Jed is still alive, where he and Xavier are being held, and what Talifero is planning for them.” There was one piece of information he wasn’t going to share with her. His main concerns were rescuing Jed and stopping the production of Dove. If they could get Xavier out, fine. If they couldn’t, he’d simply have to be abandoned.

She took a deep breath. Despite her insistence on coming along, she was still afraid of opening herself up to the aura of evil that clung to the Blackstone Clinic. Yet if it would help save Jed, she’d have to take that risk. “I’ll do my best.”

“I know.” Was her best going to be good enough this time? he wondered. And what was the personal risk to her? “Don’t go in too far,” he added softly.

Her eyes were pulled to his for just a moment. The mixture of worry and expectation she found in their gray depths gave her the strength to reach for the brochure.

This time, when she took the folder in her hand, the clairvoyant perception came faster and surer than it ever had before. Her eyes were open, yet the boat lounge and the men before her disappeared from view. They were replaced by the beautifully manicured grounds of the private psychiatric clinic. The heavy, sweet fragrance of tropical flowers enveloped her. Two men were standing below the terrace shaded by the shiny leaves of a lemon tree. One she recognized from the Falcon’s briefing file as Jackson Talifero. The other was a tall black man who stood silently, his face slightly averted. Jessica sensed that he was struggling to hold back anger.

“You will prepare the ritual site for the usual Saturday evening service,” Talifero directed. “But I will be making some changes in the normal procedures. The American
mambo
is with us again. She will serve as priestess and you will assist her. Is that understood?”

“Yes.”

“See that she has everything she needs. She will probably want to prepare the American spy herself.”

The voodoo priest nodded, even as he clenched his fist behind his back. He was
hungan
on this estate, and he should be the one to decide whom to offer to the great
loa.
The American priestess had not earned that honor—or the respect of his followers. Yet he couldn’t protest if the doctor chose to give her his prerogative. The ceremony tomorrow, like so many conducted on the estate, was illegal. The special rites were possible only because of Talifero’s protection, and that put the ultimate power in his hands.

Jessica shuddered violently.

“What is it?” Michael demanded.

The picture snapped and the garden scene vanished. She was back on the boat, feeling Michael’s urgent hands on her shoulders.

“What happened?” he repeated.

She swallowed convulsively. “They were talking about an American spy. Jed, I assume.”

“
Who
was talking?”

“Talifero and his
hungan
—his voodoo priest.”

“So what did they say?” George Holcroft interjected. His tone of voice indicated that he didn’t attach much importance to voodoo priests.

“Talifero was giving the man instructions to prepare Jed for a ceremony tomorrow night.” She paused and frowned. “Most of what I got was from their conversation. But I did pick up something from the priest’s mind—maybe because he was so angry. The ceremony tomorrow night is illegal.”

Michael turned to George. “What would that mean?”

The CIA agent swallowed. “About the only thing they don’t allow down here in those ceremonies is human sacrifice.”

Michael swore. “With Jed as the main event. We’ve got to get him out of there, and it looks as if we only have about thirty-six hours to do it.”

“Which means we don’t have time to bring in an American team. Relying on local talent can be tricky,” Holcroft muttered.

“I’ll put a unit on stand-by in case we have some time,” Michael suggested. “But let’s proceed on the assumption we have to move quickly. Who’s available on the island?”

“A lot of people here are afraid of Talifero. But there are some who would welcome the opportunity to oust him. I do have the names of a few contacts.”

Jessica put a hand on his arm. “There’s one more thing that may be important.”

“Yes?”

“Talifero and the priest were talking about an American voodoo
mambo
—a priestess.” She paused. “I don’t know why, but that gave me a really odd feeling.”

“Do you think it’s related to those voodoo charms we found back in New Orleans?”

“Maybe. But I think it’s more than that. Something that’s connected to me personally.”

Michael studied her pale complexion. “Perhaps because you had such a strong reaction to the charms.”

She nodded reluctantly. “That could be it.” But deep inside she knew it was something she was afraid to delve into right then.

Michael turned back to George. “What else do you know about the services held on Talifero’s estate?”

“They’ve got the island gripped in fear.” He looked thoughtful. “However, there may be one factor in our favor. The ceremonies are by invitation only, but if you run with the right sort of crowd, invitations aren’t that hard to come by.”

“I take it you’re not talking about us,” Michael said. “We certainly couldn’t pass as natives.”