Deadlock

'So what's the deal?'

'You do a cleanup job at Nemid's house and make sure that there's no evidence linking us.'

'That could spark an international incident if they tumble to what I'm doing.'

'And you never do anything that's not safe and aboveboard? Come on, Ferguson.'

He didn't answer for a moment. 'Not unless it's worth my while.'

'You want to clean all the mud off your coattails and you want the director and the whole world to think you're a hero. That would make it worth your while.'

'And you're going to do that?'

'I'll do it. I'll find Staunton, and I'll make sure that you're in¬volved. I'll make you shine, Ferguson. You'll get the credit for bringing the bad guy to justice.'

'Why should I trust you?'

'I give you my word.' He added sarcastically, 'You'll remember, I keep my word. I've never left you in the lurch.'

'It was necessary.' Ferguson was going over his options. Whatever he decided, he'd have to move fast. Garrett did keep his word. He could count on that either way. He'd either make Ferguson a hero or find a way to sting him big-time. 'Maybe I don't need you now that I have a name. I can go after Staunton myself.'

'And now we're back to Emily and her ability to cause you an in¬finite amount of trouble.'

Yes, there was that stumbling block. Emily Hudson was a heroine and a martyr, and the media would jump at the chance of crucifying him. He thought about it for another moment. 'Okay. Deal. But if you try to screw me, I'll hang you out to dry.'

'I won't screw you. Now call off your guys. Tell them it was all a mistake, and Emily and I are pure as a child's first prayer. I'll be in touch.' He hung up.

He'd better be in touch, Ferguson thought as he hung up. I'm go¬ing to be walking a tightrope, and I'm not going to be on it alone. He turned to Moore. 'We need to order a cleanup.'

'HE TOOK THE BAIT.' GARRETT turned to Emily. 'I think. Un¬less he wants us to feel safe, then scoops us up.'

Emily shook her head. 'He's that deceptive?'

'He's that self-serving. But if he believes that he'll be better off playing ball with us, then he'll go along.' He looked out the shop win¬dow. 'But we'll know if he cleans up the Nemid scene. I don't think we'd better try to move until we get word on that.' He turned to Fatin ben Lufti, a small, plump man with dark eyes. 'I thank you for shel¬tering us. I don't believe there will be any trouble now. Is it all right if we stay here for a little longer?'

'It is my pleasure. I've been waiting for a long time for you to ask a return,' Fatin said. 'May I get you food? Drink?'

'Food would be good. But not now. Maybe later.' Garrett turned to Emily as the small man left the room. 'It may take hours before they discover the bodies. Ferguson will want to make sure it's done by someone who has no connection with him. Try to relax.'

'That won't be easy. I feel as if my every nerve is wired.' She sat down in a damask-draped chair by the window and looked around the shop. It was like an Aladdin's cave with gold chains and jewelry hang¬ing from display shelves all around the store. 'Who is Fatin?'

'I told you, he's a friend. I've known him for years. He used to live in the mountains, but he came to the city to make a better living. He did well.'

'He said something about a return. You did him a favor?'

'I did a favor for his sister. I managed to get her out of the coun¬try to Switzerland before she could be stoned. She made the mistake of being unfaithful to the man she married. It didn't matter that he beat her and treated her like dung. Fatin couldn't help her himself. He'd have been ostracized by his family.'

Emily knew that the situation was not uncommon, but it still sick¬ened her. 'I thought the government was making strides to give women more freedom.'

'They can't stop what they can't see behind closed doors. They're taking baby steps.'

'So there's a reason why your friend is willing to risk his neck for you.'

'I wouldn't ask it if I could help it. He knows that.' 'You seem to have a lot of friends who are willing to go to the wall for you.' 'Yes.'

There was a note in his voice that caused her to glance at him. Then it hit home to her what she had said. 'That was thoughtless. Your friend, Karif… I didn't mean-' She shook her head. 'I didn't intend to hurt you. I guess I'm not thinking about what I'm saying.'

'Never apologize for speaking the truth. Karif died because I asked him to help.' His lips twisted. 'This won't be as dangerous for Fatin. I'll tell them I broke into the shop if we're caught here.' He sat down in the chair opposite her. 'But I don't believe there's any danger of that. I'm just being careful, Emily.'

She nodded. 'I guess I'm just… shaken.' She laughed ruefully at the understatement. 'I'm not accustomed to dead bodies and chases and having to make deals to keep from being thrown into jail.'

'I'd never know it.' He smiled. 'You take to it like a duck to water.'

'I don't want to take to it.' She shivered. 'It's terrible. Death and blood and…'

'The death of a man who didn't care if you and your whole team died.'

'I know that.' She tried to think of something besides Nemid with his head half blown off. 'I felt too helpless back there. I want you to get me a gun.'

He nodded. 'I'll make sure that we pick one up for you in New York. It would be a little difficult here. Any preference?'

'I usually like the.40-caliber Glock.'

His brows lifted. 'Usually?'

'Usually,' she repeated emphatically. She hadn't liked the way he had assumed that she was to stay safely in the background at Nemid's. She had to set the record straight before they went any further. 'You persist in thinking that I'm helpless and unable to protect myself. That's not true. I traveled with my father to some pretty wild places, and he would never have let me go if he hadn't thought I'd be able to take care of myself. I learned to shoot when I was eight. By the time I was twelve, I was pretty damn good. When I was sixteen, my father and I fought off a truckload of ivory poachers at an elephant reserve in Africa. Since then I've had to deal with thieves and guerrillas who thought museums were only for plundering. I don't need you because I'm helpless. I need you because you're more familiar with this kind of battleground, and I have to be sure I'm going to get Staunton.'

He smiled. 'The Glock will do very well for Staunton.'

'That's what I thought,' Emily said. 'And why was Nemid killed? What's in the box that was in the wall?'

'Let's see.' He drew the box out of his jacket pocket. It was ap¬proximately four inches by eight inches and intricately carved. 'Beau¬tiful box. Very ornate. It might say that he regarded what was inside to be just as important.' He opened the box and carefully took out the folded sheet of paper covering a velvet-wrapped object and studied it. 'It's a map of Russia and central Europe. Pretty old but nothing spe¬cial. It's just the kind of commercial map you'd pick up in any shop or train station.' He handed it to her. 'But according to the script on the top it was published in St. Petersburg in 1913.'

She shook her head. 'Russian script? Does it say anything else?'

He nodded. 'No. I can read Russian. As I said, it appears to be just an ordinary commercial map.' He took back the paper and un¬folded the cloth. He gave a low whistle. 'Well, what do we have here?'

It was a hand-painted amulet of a man with a full black beard and burning dark eyes. Emily had seen that face in too many history books not to recognize it. 'Rasputin.'

Garrett nodded. 'You can't say that face isn't memorable. Those words under his picture are a prayer and blessings on the wearer. And it's much smaller and more delicate than the usual amulet.' With one finger he traced the delicate gold frame and intricate scrollwork sur¬rounding it. 'But who was the wearer?'

'There's no inscription?'

Garrett shook his head. 'It's pretty generic. I wonder if Rasputin gave them out to his fans like the Pope does rosaries. From what I've read, Rasputin had that kind of ego.'

'Rasputin was in power just before the Russian Revolution when Nicholas II and his entire family were assassinated. But even if it be¬longed to someone in the royal family, it couldn't be that valuable. It has no jewels, and it's not inscribed to anyone. Or maybe it's the map that's important.'

'I'll check it out and put it through a few tests, but it looks pretty common.'