Red Midnight (35 page)

Sergei came through the crowd of men. He shouted something. The guards returned to their vigil at the tomb; the others disappeared as they had come, melting into nowhere.

“He’s alive,” she heard Jarod say.

“I’ll handle it,” Gil said crisply.

“I don’t think so,” Sergei interspersed, coming between the two men. “This is Russian soil.”

“But he is an American,” Jarod spat out. “He should be tried in our courts.”

Erin kept looking from one face to another. It finally filtered through to her dazed emotions that Gil Sayer had no intention of shooting Jarod. Gil was a good guy. The bad guy was the kindly old gentleman with the graying hair who now lay on the ground, the friendly man with the sparkling blue eyes who had been so very kind to her at that first dinner at Sergei’s. He was a traitor. He had betrayed Jarod, and worse, he had betrayed Gil. The pain of that betrayal now streaked through the eyes of the handsome young man who had come through the night not to harm her husband but to help him.

It was too much. The legs which had earlier carried her the mile to the square suddenly gave. The red glow became a mist of black.

She hit the pavement.

It was the disappearance of the sound of the ambulance siren that brought her back to consciousness rather than its arrival to collect Joe Mahoney.

She was warm, Erin noted vaguely, and she was warm because she was wrapped in a blanket. She opened her eyes to see that she was stretched in the rear seat of a car. A woman in a uniform was hovering over her, waving a vile-smelling pellet beneath her nose.

Erin waved her hand away and struggled to sit up, not sure whether she should smile or not to assure the strict-looking matron that she was all right. It didn’t matter; the steel-eyed lady in the rigid dress with brass stars upon her shoulders moved instantly, crisply announcing something in her own language.

It was Sergei’s face she saw next, and she did try a tremulous smile.

“Little fool,” he chastised, “what are you doing out here?”

“I tried to call you,” Erin offered weakly.

“Didn’t I tell you your husband was a man determined to watch out for himself? And that I would be watching out for him?”

Erin nodded blankly. “I thought it was Gil,” she said tonelessly.

Sergei sighed. “So did Jarod. And so now he suffers like a fool, a man plagued by guilt because he let his heart rule his mind. It is going to sit hard with him, he is a proud man. But look—he is also an honest man—ready to admit his faults.”

Sergei helped her sit up in the car. She followed his pointed finger and saw that Jarod and Gil were in deep conversation. She smiled slightly, then turned to Sergei.

“What will happen to Joe Mahoney?”

“Your voice tremors, little cousin. But do not look at me like that, as if I were a beast. I will allow Mr. Mahoney to be tried in an American court. Betrayal against one’s own people is more severe, don’t you think? Yes, this one I will let the Americans handle.”

Erin started shivering despite the blanket. “I still don’t understand—”

“For some men, service to one’s country is enough. To others, it is not. Joe saw some easy rewards, he grabbed for them.”

“But how? He was with all of us the night I came to the square. And Gil was the one who tried to help me—”

“You forget—Gil was to be replacing Joe. What Gil knew—Joe knew. While your husband was suspecting Gil, Gil was suspecting your husband. Joe was playing the two of them off each other.”

“I still don’t—”

“It was all taking place here, on Red Square, at midnight. Two of the guards at Lenin’s tomb were involved. Such a fine show, don’t you think? Easy to drop a tiny capsule of information. A capsule dropped just outside the wall. And so easy to pick up. Even in a crowd, a man could pretend to drop a glove or coin and not be noticed bending to retrieve it. Sometimes microfilm was dropped, sometimes merely numbers to tie into information already in a computer. A lot of the information was distorted—some totally fictitious. But when two giants are wary of one another, they grab at straws.”

“But Sergei—how could I have been involved? Or used so? I would have had to know what I was doing to pick up information—”

“On Red Square, Erin, you were a cover. Joe had intended originally to plant some of his information upon your belongings when you returned to the States. But we were too close. Still, Erin—and I will apologize now—I couldn’t allow you to leave. I had to hold you until I knew what was going on. I was also afraid you might become a handy instrument in some other way. And at first, I didn’t know if you were guilty or innocent. I could only let you go to Jarod because I trusted his honor, and because—if you were innocent—he could offer you the protection I could not. Joe might have been able to make you appear too guilty to be cleared…. You must understand this.”

Erin nodded weakly. She did understand, she had become accidentally involved in something that allowed no quarter for individuals. And more than that, she knew that Jarod’s decision to marry her had saved her from possibly becoming even more involved, caught in the quicksand of the deadly game of espionage.

“But he was selling to your government too—” she began in a daze.

“We don’t always know the source of the information we are sold. It was a long time before either country realized she was being duped. Joe had access to a number of secrets. He had only to twist them to make them both believable and highly salable. Most of the contacts he used were like yourself—innocent of the fact they carried information to be picked up by those who would not ask questions but accept money.”

It struck Erin again with a terrible stab of pain as she stared at the square—and the guards before Lenin’s tomb who stood so strictly they appeared as mannequins—that she wanted to go home. Now she could go sooner than Jarod had promised. It was over.

She heard a crunching against the ground and tilted her chin. Jarod and Gil were both approaching the car.

“How’re you doing, gorgeous?” Gil inquired first.

Erin smiled with a weak attempt at cheer. Her eyes left Gil’s to focus tentatively on her husband’s.

Jarod stretched out a hand and stroked his fingers lightly over her cheek. His eyes were thoughtful and brooding, but she couldn’t fathom the emotion that burned beyond their guard.

“You could have gotten yourself … hurt,” he said admonishingly.

She didn’t seem to be able to say much. She merely nodded.

He stepped back from the car; Sergei joined him, and the uniformed matron slipped into the driver’s seat.

“Anna will take you home,” Sergei said.

At her look of confusion, Jarod added softly, “We have forms to fill out and business to finish. I’ll be home soon.”

Her door slammed. The car revved into action and moved from the curb.

It was amazing how short the distance to the apartment was. She had felt when running that it had been miles and miles.

“Thank you, spa seeba,” she told the rigid Anna as the car came to a halt. But apparently Anna had her orders. She accompanied Erin to the door, bullying her way in when Erin tried to thank her again for the ride. Anna walked into the kitchen and poured a glass of water. She returned to Erin and forced the water and a pair of small white pills into her hands.

“Oh—ah—no thank you,” Erin began to murmur.

The pills were more firmly pressed into her hand. “Sergei say that you take. That you must sleep. Pills will not hurt the baby—no sleep will.”

Erin colored slightly and began to protest again, but then gave up. If she ever wanted this watchdog out of the apartment, she would have to take the pills. She swallowed them and handed back the glass of water, then opened her mouth wide like a child. “See,” she garbled with a sarcasm that was not lost on the other woman. “All gone.”

Anna muttered something about Americans that Erin didn’t think was complimentary, but she did, at long last, leave.

But I don’t want to sleep, Erin thought. I want to wait up for Jarod. I need to talk to him.

She attempted to sit in the living room to wait, but the little white tablets quickly had an effect. Her head drooped, and the urge to close her eyes was so strong that she convinced herself she could wait for him just as well upstairs in bed.

It seemed a terribly difficult task to make her way up the staircase—more difficult than reaching the square. But finally she passed the door to the den—and paused with a smile to think how ridiculous it was that so much had happened while Mary and Ted slept peacefully and blissfully unaware.

She made it into the bedroom and decided to lie down and rest just a minute before finding a nightgown.

She didn’t get up. The little white tablets Sergei’s guard dog had forced her to take were granting her the blissful oblivion she had just envied Mary and Ted.

It was close to dawn when Jarod finally returned home. He had no intention of going to sleep, because he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to wake himself up in the few hours before the time came to take Mary and Ted to the airport. Remembering he had guests in the apartment as well as his sleeping wife, he walked quietly up the staircase. He left the bedroom door open to allow the downstairs lights to flicker dimly into the bedroom. Then he paused in the doorway, watching her as she slept.

She was still clad in jeans and a sweater, and her head didn’t even rest upon the pillow. For a moment as he watched her, he was simply struck afresh by her striking beauty, all the more pure as she slept. Her truly fine, aristocratic features were framed by that rich hair that gleamed with natural gold even in the dimness of the room. Her fingers, so elegantly long and fragile-appearing with their handsomely manicured nails, curled near her cheek.

She had come to the square. She had raced across a concrete field of armed men because she had believed he was in danger after he had so cruelly accosted her.

He moved to the bed and touched the silky smoothness of her cheek. “Erin,” he whispered softly.

She didn’t respond, and he realized how deeply she slept. Thinking her encumbered, he gently released the snap and zipper of her jeans and carefully eased them from her body. She sighed, but curled back into a little ball. Lifting her in his arms, he pulled her sweater over her head, then held her as he pulled down the spread and top sheet, gently laid her upon the cool bottom one, and drew the others back around her. She murmured something, and her fingers momentarily entwined with his before going limp again. He sat beside her then, holding the fingers that had grasped his as he continued to watch her in silent vigil.

It had taken him to this moment to realize that he loved her. And as he sat there he thought of all the things he wanted to say. He wanted desperately to be able to tell her how sorry he was for his brutal behavior, to explain that he had been hurt once, and that he was afraid to be hurt again. He wanted to let her know that her strength was far greater than his because she was capable still of loving, of giving, when he had only been able to take. And if he could just say things so that she might understand, he could ask her if she would consider remaining his wife. If she could give him a chance to learn to love again …

He took her into his arms suddenly, holding her tightly against his chest. What a fool he had been. Paradise had been his, and even as he invaded her beauty, he hadn’t had the wits to hold her dear.

He clenched his eyes tightly together and held her another moment, then lowered her gently back to the pillow. He touched her forehead reverently with his lips.

She murmured something, then her silver eyes flickered open. They were glazed, opaque with sleep.

“Jarod,” she whispered.

“I’m here, my love.”

Her lashes closed over her eyes again; she said something else, so softly he couldn’t hear her. He leaned closer to her lips. “What, Erin?”

Her eyes remained closed, but she spoke again softly. “I want to go home, Jarod.”

“You are home.”

“No,” she murmured, her brow creasing with a frown as she fought the sleep that overwhelmed her. “I want to go home … to America … to my home …”

His eyes closed again painfully. He stiffened, then set her hand gently on her abdomen and rose.

He went downstairs and put on a pot of coffee.

It was over. The chase of the last months was over, but he couldn’t feel victory, only pain. He had been after the wrong man—hell, even Catherine had warned him he was pushing in the wrong direction—but he had been so sure of himself because he had been a jealous fool and hadn’t even realized it.

Even Erin … he had dragged her into it as surely as Mahoney had done. He had used her, and had forced her into marriage.

She wanted to go home.

The coffee finished perking. He poured himself a cup and glanced at his watch for the time. Almost six thirty. Not too early to begin waking a few people up. He pensively took a sip of his coffee, then moved for the phone. It would only take a few calls to change her departure date.

“Erin. Erin. Erin. Erin.”

The urgently monotonous intonation of her name finally woke her. Very bleary-eyed, Erin struggled to sit up. She blinked rapidly to dispel the image, but Mary was still sitting beside her, anxiously staring at her.

“Dear Lord,” Mary exclaimed cheerfully, “but you do sleep like the dead!”

Erin blinked again, highly resenting anyone who could sound so cheerful when she was sure she
was
half dead. But then Mary hadn’t been in on the catastrophic events of the night; she didn’t know anything about nuclear secrets or “Midnight” or the drama on the square.

Had it all really happened, Erin wondered? It already felt like a dream. For a moment she wondered if the entire thing
hadn’t
been a dream, if she had merely invented Jarod Steele and Sergei Alexandrovich and Gil and Tanya and Joe.

She finally focused on her friend. “Mary, I’m sorry. I know we have to get you to the airport—”

“Not me,” Mary interrupted, eyes twinkling. “Us! You’re coming home with Ted and me.”

“What?” Erin gasped weakly.

Mary nodded strenuously. “Your husband arranged it. He said you were very anxious to get back to the States, so he decided it would be best for you to travel with us.”