'I suppose I'm reaching for answers.' She shrugged. 'I don't know. I guess I was hoping for more.'
'You mean Zelov's hammer handed to us tied up in ribbons?'
'It wouldn't hurt.' She watched him put the amulet and map carefully back in the box. 'Staunton wanted that amulet. He killed Nemid to get it.'
'Or he didn't want us to have it. If he knew Nemid had it, why didn't he go after it before? Unless it wasn't that important to him.'
Emily frowned. 'Why wouldn't it be important? Nemid believed it was important, or he wouldn't have hidden it.'
'You're right. Maybe Staunton made a deal with Nemid, and the amulet was a payoff. It could be he was biding his time before he took it back.'
'But what did this amulet have to do with anything? It's obvious that this isn't the artifact that was supposed to be in the hammer. Staunton thought the hammer was probably at that museum, or he wouldn't have gotten Nemid to send us there.' She rubbed her temple. 'It's all crazy. Nothing makes sense.'
'It will all come together.' He leaned back in his chair. 'We'll make it come together. But you can't force it. Close your eyes and rest. Try to sleep. I'll wake you as soon as I know if Ferguson is lying or playing straight.'
'I won't be able to sleep.' But she closed her eyes anyway. It had been a rough night, and she could still see the bloody bodies of Nemid and his bodyguard. Totally unexpected. Totally shocking. Not only their deaths but the fact that Garrett was right, and Nemid had delib¬erately sent her into that hell. What could have meant enough to make anyone-?
'He deserved to die,' Garrett said as if reading her thoughts. 'If Staunton hadn't killed him, I would have done it myself.'
She didn't open her eyes because she didn't want to see the darkness in his expression. She knew it was there. She shouldn't mind. She was accustomed to it now.
She did mind. She didn't want the darkness there because of her. It hurt her in some way. She wanted to push it away, push him away.
No, she only wanted to push away the darkness.
Her eyes were still closed as she reached out her hand to him.
She could sense his sudden stillness.
Then he leaned forward and took her hand. 'What's this for?' She shook her head. What could she answer when she didn't know herself?
'Okay. That's fine. I won't push it.' His grasp tightened. His hand was warm and strong holding her own.
And even though her eyes were still closed, she knew the darkness was no longer there.
'SHE SLEEPS?' FATIN ASKED several hours later as he came back into the room. 'I brought you food. I thought you might need it before you left me.'
Emily opened her eyes. 'I'm not sleeping.' She looked at Garrett, who was leaning against the wall. 'When can we leave?'
Garrett gazed at Fatin. 'Yes, when can we leave? Have you heard anything?'
He smiled. 'According to the radio, it seems our honorable council¬man has been butchered by thieves or the Taliban. His body was discov¬ered by his secretary, who came early to help him with a speech he was to give before the council.' He set the tray on the inlaid table in front of Emily. 'Such a pity. It's a terrible, brutal world, isn't it?' He turned to Garrett. 'But sometimes we can skip away from the brutality with the help of friends.' He turned and moved back toward the door. 'It is only bread, cheese, and pastry. I will bring tea.'
'Thank you.'
'No, I repeat, it is my pleasure.' He flashed a smile that lit his round, dark face. 'Do you need clothes? Transportation?'
Garrett grinned. 'We seem to be losing our shirts at every turn. But I imagine Ferguson had the rental car taken away from Nemid's house and our suitcases with it. We're not about to knock on Ferguson's door to get them. That might be entirely too tempting for him. I'll ask that clothes be brought by the pilot Dardon arranges to pick us up, but we still need to get out of the city without Emily being recognized.' He nodded. 'So yes, if you can get Emily some clothes, I'd appreciate it. Preferably something including a veil. Anything will do for me.' He turned to Emily as Fatin left the room, 'It will just be until we get out¬side the city.'
'You don't need to give me explanations. I don't like the fact that men keep women veiled and under their heels, but it's a disguise that would work.' She took a bite of cheese. 'I should probably try to wear it on the plane to the U.S. It's only during security that I'd have to shed the veil.'
He nodded. 'But we'll arrange a private jet to get us to the New York area. I know a small local airport in Connecticut that's safe.'
'Safe? Does that mean under the radar of Homeland Security? An echo from your shady past?'
'What else is a shady past good for?' He sat down across from her and reached for a piece of bread. 'We'll whisk you away from the air¬port as soon as we hit the ground in New York.'
'I brought you clothes.' Fatin came into the room carrying an armful of voluminous black garments. 'I hope they're suitable.' He set the clothes down on a stool. 'If you have trouble with the proper way of wearing them, tell me and I will send my wife to help you.'
'Your wife?'
'Yes, they belong to her.' He shrugged as he saw her expression of surprise. 'It is tradition.'
'I didn't mean-You've been very kind. Thank you.'
Her gaze went back to the smothering black veils of the burqua as he left the room before looking at Garrett.
'You take what you can get.' He repeated as he started to eat, 'Baby steps.'
IT WAS DARDON WHO GOT 0 U T of the helicopter when they ar¬rived at the same poppy field where they had landed the day Garrett had gotten her out of the mountains.
'I told you to stay with Irana,' Garrett said as he opened the car door for Emily. 'What the hell are you doing here?'
'Irana didn't need me. She decided to stay in Morocco and work with another doctor who was developing a new vaccine for malaria.'
'And Morocco is supposed to be safe?'
'She has an army around her.' He lifted his hand to his forehead in a mocking salute. 'As commanded. She told me to get out of her way and go somewhere that I could do some good.' He gave a low whistle as Emily got out of the car. 'Quite an outfit. I don't even recognize you beneath all that drapery.'
'I can't breathe.' She took off the veil. 'I don't know how they stand it.' She started to strip off as many layers as she could. 'That's better.'
'I brought you more clothes and a computer.'
'Good,' Emily said. 'I want to check and see if I can find out any¬thing more about Nicholas Zelov and his place in Connecticut.'
'I dug a little deeper and found out a few things about him while I was with Irana,' Dardon said. 'When he was on the verge of bank¬ruptcy, he hired an accounting lawyer, Donald Warwick, to go through the family's affairs and see where they'd gone wrong in the corpora¬tion and how to correct it. It took a little of your money, Garrett, but I managed to get Warwick to talk to me. Evidently he was pretty thorough because he went way back to the start of the corporation in 1925.' 'And?'
'He found sizeable amounts deposited in Mikhail Zelov's corpo¬rate accounts every six months on the same dates until 1943. Then they stopped.'
'Where did they come from?'
Dardon shook his head. 'First mail, then electronic transfers from somewhere in Belgium. Untraceable.' 'Belgium?' Emily asked.
'Don't take any stock in that,' Garrett said. 'If you don't want someone to know where a deposit is coming from, you can reroute halfway around the world.'
'But Warwick said that Nicholas Zelov was very interested in those deposits. Nicholas said that old bastard, Mikhail, must have had some¬thing on someone, and it was too bad that the money had stopped.'
'Blackmail?'
'Or payment for services rendered,' Garrett said. 'But Nicholas might have decided to do some searching on
