"Stalemate" - читать интересную книгу автора (Johansen Iris)

1

The phone was ringing.

Ignore it, Eve told herself, her fingers moving swiftly on the skull reconstruction she'd given the name of Marty. She could call whoever it was back when she was through working. The phone was set for speaker and she could pick up if it was Joe or Jane. She was getting too close to that important last step in the sculpting.

On the sixth ring the answering machine picked up.

"I need to speak to you. Answer the phone, Ms. Duncan."

She froze, her fingers stopped in midstroke. Luis Montalvo. Though she had spoken to him only twice that faint accent was unmistakable.

"I know you're there. You haven't left that cottage in the last week." His voice became faintly mocking. "Your dedication is admirable and I understand you're brilliant at your job. I look forward to having both focused soon on my behalf." He paused. "Do pick up the phone. I'm not accustomed to being ignored. It upsets me. You don't want to upset me."

And she didn't want to pick up the phone. He might jar her out of the zone of feverish intensity she needed when she was working this close to completion. Dammit, she had hoped he wouldn't call her again after she'd turned him down when he'd phoned her the last time, over a week ago.

"I won't give up, you know."

No, he probably wouldn't. Montalvo had been polite during the first call and even after she'd refused his offer, the second time he'd phoned he'd displayed no anger. His voice had been smooth and soft, almost regretful, yet there had been a note beneath that velvet courtesy that had puzzled her. It had made her uneasy then but tonight it filled her with impatience. She had no time for this now. Marty was waiting.

She strode across the room and picked up the phone. "Montalvo, I'm very busy. You've had your answer. Don't call me again."

"Ah, how delightful to hear your voice. I knew you wouldn't be so rude as to leave me hanging on that dreadful answering device. I hate impersonal machines. I'm a man of emotion and passion and they offend me."

"I really don't want to hear what you love or hate. I don't care. I want to get off this phone and forget you exist."

"I realize that sad fact. You're absorbed in your latest reconstruction, of that boy found buried in Macon. Have you named him yet? I understand you name all the skulls you work on."

She stiffened. "How did you know that?"

"I know everything about you. I know you live with a Detective Joe Quinn of the Atlanta Police Department. I know you have an adopted daughter, Jane MacGuire. I know you're possibly the best forensic sculptor in the world. Shall I go on?"

"That could all be public record. And how did you know about the boy murdered in Macon?"

"I have many, many contacts around the world. Do you want to know who killed him? I could find out for you."

"I don't believe you."

"Why not?"

"Because you're not even in this country. You're a scumbag of an arms peddler and you live in Colombia where you can hide out and deal your poison to the highest bidder."

He chuckled. "I do like frankness. Very few women I know are willing to tell me the truth as they see it."

"Then I'm grateful to not be one of the women you 'know' you sexist bastard. If I were, I'd probably be tempted to cut your nuts off."

"Such violence, such passion. I believe we're very much alike, Ms. Duncan."

"No way." She drew a deep breath. "The answer is still no. I've no intention of coming down there and doing your reconstruction."

"You were very polite and businesslike, almost sympathetic, when I first made you the offer. The second time you were much more curt. I suppose you had Joe Quinn check me out?"

"Yes, of course. I don't deal with crooks and murderers."

"Everyone deals with whoever can make them the best bargain."

"I told you the last time that I wasn't interested in any of your fat fees."

"And I was duly impressed. I don't believe I've ever had anyone turn down a million dollars for a few days' work."

"Dirty money."

"Not true. All my cash is very well laundered."

"I thought you'd accepted that I wouldn't work for you."

"Because I didn't argue with you? I don't believe in spinning my wheels. I just go away and find another lure. It took almost a week for me to decide what that would be."

"And?"

"I'm convinced you'll be my guest in a very short time."

"Why?"

"That would spoil the surprise. I like to see a plan unfold like a beautiful night flower."

"You mentioned Joe and my adopted daughter. You touch them and I'll kill you."

"That violence again." His tone was amused. "I'd never be that stupid. That would be the trigger that would send you into the fray to take me down. I want your cooperation."

"I'm hanging up."

"Very well. I just wanted to offer you the opportunity to change your mind. It would make me happy if you would come to me for mercenary reasons. Much less stressful for all of us."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Heavens, no. You'd know it if I were doing that. There would be no question. Won't you come and make me happy and become rich in the process?"

"No."

"Too bad." He sighed. "Good night." He hung up.

Eve slowly pressed the disconnect button. He had said he wasn't threatening her, but what else could she call it? It was subtle, but the threat was all the more chilling for the casual, understated way it was delivered. He'd been so calm when she'd turned down his offer that she'd honestly thought he'd accepted her refusal and was out of her life. It was clear she'd been wrong.

Should she call Joe and tell him Montalvo was still on the scene?

And have him think she was worried and rush home from the precinct?

She wasn't worried. She was uneasy. Montalvo had said her family was safe and she believed him. As he had perceived, any danger to them would have made her angry and rebellious. He'd made no direct threat at all and he might just be trying to intimidate her into doing his job.

Maybe.

Yet he'd seemed to know entirely too much about her movements. Was she being watched?

Yes, she'd definitely tell Joe. But there was no use in alarming him right now. She'd tell him tonight when he came home for dinner. Okay, so she wanted to get back to Marty and she was afraid talking to Joe about Montalvo would keep her from doing it. She wasn't about to let Montalvo disturb her concentration on her work. That slimeball would probably enjoy the thought that he could control her to that extent. He might even call her again and try to reinforce that control. She'd be damned if she'd let him. She turned off the house phone and then her cell phone before moving back toward the reconstruction on the easel across the room.

Block Montalvo out of her thoughts. Think of Marty and the chance to bring him home. Think of the boy who'd been murdered and buried and left alone with no name or place.

That was better. Montalvo's words were blurring, fading away as she began to work.

Talk to me, Marty. Help me to bring you home…

"Pity." Montalvo looked down at the phone. "I was hoping she'd give in to greed like a normal person. It's easy to be noble for an hour, a day, but then they start to think and perhaps dream a little. A week should have whetted her appetite and made her start making excuses why she should take the job."

"Not everyone thinks that money is the be-all and end-all of everything, Montalvo," Soldono said.

Montalvo smiled. "Almost everyone. It's unfortunate that Eve Duncan is in the minority." He rose from the carved chair at the head of the dining table. "Oh, well. One must make adjustments."

Soldono tensed. "Don't do it, Montalvo."

"She's giving me little choice. You're giving me little choice. You didn't talk to her, did you?" He shook his head. "I told you what you had to do but you were looking for an out. I can see you scrambling frantically to avoid bringing her into the picture until time got away from you. Well, that time has come."

"Why her?" Soldono asked. "There's a fine forensic sculptor in Rio de Janeiro. Use him."

"Sanchez?" Montalvo shook his head. "Technically brilliant but he's not what I want."

"Eve Duncan is an American citizen and she's known and respected by every police department on the planet. She turned down your money and you'll be stirring up a hornet's nest if you try to force her."

"And you wouldn't like that. The CIA tries to be very low-key these days."

"Let me try to get Sanchez for you."

"You don't understand."

"Then tell me."

He gazed musingly down at the depths of the wine in his glass. "It's a matter of passion."

"What?"

"I told Eve Duncan that I was a man of passion. It's true."

Soldono hadn't noticed any emotion in Montalvo, much less a passion. The man was brilliant, innovative, and he kept any feelings or thoughts hidden behind that faintly mocking smile. "Why Eve Duncan?" he repeated.

"She has passion too. I've studied her file and nothing could be clearer. It's like a whirlwind spinning around her. She grew up on the streets with a drug addict for a mother and gave birth to an illegitimate child as a teenager. She turned her life around and went back to school and became a model mother. Then her daughter was kidnapped and presumably killed, but the body was never found. Instead of being crushed, the lady became a forensic sculptor and tried to bring closure to other parents by identifying the remains of their missing children."

"I know all that," Soldono said impatiently.

"You know the facts but you've never studied Eve Duncan the way I have. I believe I may know her better than she knows herself. I know what drives her. I know what makes her tick."

"Yeah, sure." He couldn't keep the sarcasm from his tone. "Passion?"

"Don't underestimate it. Da Vinci had it. Michelangelo had it. It's the difference between art and creation. Eve Duncan has it." His tone was smooth but hard. "And that's why I have to have her. Don't try to pawn anyone else off on me."

"Find another way. You promised me that you'd-"

"And I'd keep my promise if you'd kept yours." His tone was threaded with mockery as he continued, "But since the lady is not being accommodating, I must have cooperation from someone. You can see that, can't you?"

"No."

Montalvo's smile faded. "Then your vision had better improve quickly. I told you yesterday that if I didn't get the answer I wanted, then I'd move. You obviously chose to think I wasn't serious. I'll give you another four hours to persuade her, Soldono. No more, no less." He looked at his watch. "Ten tonight."

"I can't strike a bargain like that."

"Of course you can. Don't bullshit me. You do it all the time. A life for a life." He turned away. "Finish your dinner. The tiramisu is magnificent. The chef will be upset if you don't try it."

Soldono was seething with frustration as he watched him walk away. Sleek, graceful, and as dangerous as a stick of dynamite too near the flames. Bastard.

Would he do it?

Why was he even questioning it? Montalvo didn't bluff and he would carry out any threat he made in exactly the method he'd outlined.

He had four hours.

He'd hoped to find a way to stop Montalvo without involving Eve Duncan but time had run out. But was it to his advantage to make a trade for the woman? Why not let it go? He had to be sure it was worth it.

Four hours.

He reached for his phone and quickly dialed.

"Montalvo's given me four hours. Dammit, he'll do it. How the hell am I supposed to stop him?"

Venable was silent for a moment. "It's time you offered Eve Duncan a choice."

"Some choice. Okay, I'm on it. I'll call you back when I get through." He hung up and looked in his book for Eve Duncan's phone number.

"Jane called me," Joe said as he came into the cottage two hours later. "She tried to reach you but she couldn't do it. She said she'd made reservations for us at the Doubletree in Phoenix and that I was to remind you that the show was this Saturday." He smiled. "I told her that there was a fairly good chance that you'd remember."

"What?" She tried to shift her attention away from the skull. It was like fighting her way through a thick fog. "Of course I remembered." Eve managed to tear her gaze away from Marty. "It's a very important show for Jane. I wouldn't miss it. She should know that."

"Yeah." He went over to the phone and turned it back on. "She also knows that you've been working day and night to finish that reconstruction."

"Marty is difficult." She looked back at the reconstruction of the eight-year-old boy. At least, the forensic team's estimate was eight years. "I had to practically put his splintered facial bones back together before I could begin work."

"Do we have a clue who he is yet?"

She shrugged. "You know I never look at police files before I finish the reconstruction. The Macon police have photos of children who disappeared around the time that they estimate the boy was killed. We'll see if we have a resemblance."

"DNA?"

She grimaced. "Come on. The DNA labs are so backed up with current murders that they're not going to be in any hurry to process a five-year-old cold case." She pushed the hair back from her forehead. "But if I do a good enough job I have a chance to bring him home."

"You'll do a good job," Joe said. "But not if you get so tired you lose judgment." He headed for the kitchen. "Did you eat dinner?"

"I think so… I don't remember."

"Then we'll assume that you didn't. I'll warm up the beef stew in the refrigerator and put some garlic bread in the oven. That means you have fifteen minutes to clean up your studio and wash up."

"I can catch something later."

"Now." He opened the refrigerator. "Scoot."

She hesitated. Montalvo. She'd meant to tell him about the call from Montalvo as soon as he came in but it didn't seem important now. As she'd worked on the skull, everything had faded but the reality of the work itself. Marty was important. The other lost children were important. She'd tell Joe about Montalvo later. "I should finish tonight. I want to do the computer three-D image before we leave for Phoenix."

"According to forensics, the boy's been dead for five years. He can wait a little while longer." He glanced at her over his shoulder. "No arguments, Eve. I let you wear yourself into the ground because you give me no choice, but not this time. You'll have a fight on your hands. I'd bet you've lost five pounds this week."

"I don't think-" She wearily shook her head. Maybe he was right. She was exhausted and she probably had lost weight. This case had been particularly painful. She should be used to dealing with the cruelty of the monsters who killed innocent children after all these years of forensic sculpting. Yet the mindless brutality of the violence visited on this small boy had ripped aside the scar tissue. "I want to bring him home, Joe."

Her lips tightened. "And I want to kill the son of a bitch who did that to him."

"I know," he said. "Give me a chance and I'll do the job for you. For that poor kid and for what his killer is doing to you." He slammed the refrigerator door. "I was hoping this damn obsession was lessening but along comes a nasty case and you're right back where you were."

She stiffened. "This is what I do. This is what I am. Why are you so angry about it now?"

He didn't speak for a moment. "Because I'm tired. Because sometimes I can't stand to see you in pain. Because the years pass and I think the miracle will happen and it never does."

He was talking about Bonnie. She felt a ripple of shock. She couldn't remember the last time he'd spoken about her daughter. Yet Bonnie was always there, a silent presence. "I'll find her someday."

"A miracle," he repeated. "After all these years that's what it would take." He turned his back on her and moved to the stove. "Go get cleaned up. If I upset you any more, you won't eat and I'll be defeating my purpose."

She studied him. Something was definitely wrong. His motions were jerky and that remark about Bonnie was an instant tip-off. She would have noticed earlier if she hadn't been distracted by both her work and the aftereffects of that call from Montalvo. "I'm not the only one who's upset. What the devil is wrong with you?" She crossed her arms over her chest to keep them from shaking. "And don't tell me that you're just fed up with living here with me. If you don't want to stay with me, no one is forcing you."

"Particularly not you."

"Shut up." She tried to steady her voice. "I don't have any right to ask you to stay. I'm an emotional cripple. As you said, I'm obsessed and I'll probably remain that way for the rest of my life. Sometimes I wonder why you haven't left me before this."

He didn't look at her. "You know why."

"Joe."

"I have my own obsession. Now get your ass in gear. We need to get some food down you." He shot her a glance. "It's okay. I'm over it. It just had to come out."

"Why now?"

"Why not?"

She hesitated, gazing at him. It wasn't over. She could sense the turbulence, the reckless energy whirling below the surface.

"You're down to ten minutes."

She tried to smile. "You used up five telling me what an obsessive wacko I am."

"Takes one to know one." He turned on the oven. "And you're my wacko."

She felt a sudden surge of warmth. He was the only man she'd ever known who could make her flit from emotion to emotion in the space of a heartbeat. She'd been angry, upset, defensive, and yet now she was feeling this powerful surge of affection. She turned away and headed down the hall. "Wackos of the world, unite."

"I only want to unite with one wacko and I fully intend to do it later tonight. After I feed you and stoke up your energy level."

"Promises, promises."

She was still smiling as she stepped into the shower a few minutes later. She could feel a tingle of sexual anticipation and excitement start within her. Jesus, you'd think after all these years with Joe that sex wouldn't be this urgent. Wasn't it supposed to become merely comfortable after a while? Their coming together was just as wild and passionate as that first time. Her body was tensing, readying at the thought.

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes as the water flowed over her. She'd tell Joe about Montalvo's call over dinner but right now she wanted to relax and forget about everything but Joe…

Joe was taking the garlic bread out of the oven when his cell phone rang.

Soldono.

He was tempted to let his voice mail pick up.

Shit.

He punched the button. "Quinn. Go away, Soldono. I'm not talking to you. We're done."

"If we were done, you wouldn't have answered the phone. Have you talked to her? It's almost nine-thirty, dammit. Time's running out."

"No, and I'm not going to."

"You will. You have a conscience."

"My conscience concerns Eve, Eve's physical safety, and Eve's mental well-being. Period. Bottom line."

"And what does her conscience dictate, Quinn? I've heard Eve Duncan's conscience is a little more encompassing. What would she say?"

"I'll never know. Neither will you, Soldono." He hung up the phone. Keep cool. He'd already let Soldono get under his skin or he wouldn't have answered the phone.

"Who's Soldono?"

He turned to see Eve, wrapped in a terry robe, standing in the doorway. "No one important."

She frowned. "If he weren't important to you, he wouldn't be able to make you this angry."

"I'm not angry."

"Who's Soldono? An officer at the precinct?"

"No." He placed the garlic bread on a plate. "We've got to both eat this to cancel the odor out. Maybe garlic wasn't such a good idea. Of course, it's supposed to keep away vampires."

"Is Soldono a vampire?"

"Drop it, Eve."

"Why?" She sat down at the table. "I've an idea he may be one of the reasons you were on the attack tonight. Who is he?"

He put her bowl of stew in front of her. "CIA. Satisfied?"

"No. Is that all I'm going to get?"

His lips lifted in a sardonic smile. "Soldono says that it's not. But it's all you're going to get now."

Her forehead wrinkled in thought as she remembered something. "When you came into the house, you turned the phone back on. No comment. You just turned it on."

"Jane couldn't get in touch with you."

"But you didn't ask me why I turned it off."

"You were working."

"Joe."

He didn't answer.

"Talk to me. You knew about my call from Montalvo, didn't you?"

"Yes." He poured some coffee. "Why didn't you phone me and tell me about it?"

"I thought it would wait until you got home." She grimaced. "Okay, I didn't want to think about him. It was interfering with Marty. It was just a kind of follow-up call to see if I'd changed my mind. And he didn't exactly issue any firm threats."

"You should have called me. I don't like being shut out."

"Neither do I. What does Soldono want with us?"

He didn't answer for a moment. "He doesn't want us. He wants you."

"What?"

"He wants you to go down to Colombia and do the reconstruction Montalvo is asking." His hand tightened on his cup. "He doesn't give a damn that once you're down there, your chances of getting out alive stink. If knowing the identity of that skull is important to Montalvo, he's not going to want anyone else alive and walking around to share that knowledge."

"You're preaching to the choir. I've no intention of going down there."

"Good. Then we'll forget both Montalvo and Soldono. Eat your stew."

"We won't forget it. Why is the CIA involved with Montalvo? You said he was a crook."

"The CIA sometimes has strange bedfellows."

"I want to know, Joe."

"Okay." His lips tightened. "Soldono called me because he couldn't reach you and he was on the hot seat. Montalvo called you because he expected Soldono or one of his superiors to have already put the screws to you."

"Why would they do that?"

"Soldono had an informant, Pedro Gonzales, in Montalvo's camp. Montalvo found out about him and has been holding him locked up in his stockade. He offered to release Gonzales if Soldono could get you to come."

"And if he couldn't?"

"What do you think happens to traitors?"

"He'd kill him," she whispered.

"He's a dirtball," Joe said harshly. "Even Soldono admitted that Gonzales was every bit as much a criminal as Montalvo. He just wasn't as smart. That's why he was trying to find a way to get him out that wouldn't involve an innocent U.S. citizen."

"He was helping the CIA."

"For money, Eve. For money."

"Yes, but he…" She moistened her lips. "Life is precious. I could save him."

"And get killed yourself."

She rubbed her temple. "I know. I'm just trying to think of a way…How much time do we have?"

"Not enough."

"How much?"

He glanced at his watch. "Twenty-five minutes."

Shock jolted through her. "My God, and you weren't going to tell me?"

His lips twisted. "Evidently I was or I wouldn't have done it. Maybe I was just trying to save my ass when you found out later."

"Call Soldono."

"No, you're not going."

"I didn't say I was. Tell Soldono I'll talk to Montalvo. Maybe I can stall him until the CIA can free Gonzales."

Joe stared at her without speaking.

"Dammit, Joe. I don't care if he's a crook. Maybe he was trying to change if he was working with the CIA. What do we know? What will it hurt me to make the attempt to stop him from being killed?"

"I don't know and I don't want to know."

"Don't do this." Her hand clenched into a fist on the table. "There's too much pain in the world. I don't want anyone hurt or killed if I can prevent it. It's only a phone call, Joe."

He hesitated and then took out his phone and dialed. "It had better be only a call." When Soldono answered the phone, he said curtly, "Tell Montalvo she'll talk business to him if he wants to call her back."

"Jesus, you cut it close enough. I've only got fifteen minutes."

"Then get off the line and talk to him." Joe hung up. "This is a mistake, Eve. He'll take it as a sign of weakness."

"I don't care." She picked up her coffee cup and cradled it in her hands. The warmth felt good to her. "I don't want to enter into a battle of wills with the bastard. I just want to buy a little time to save a life." She looked at the telephone. "I suppose I should expect a call from him tonight."

"Yes." Joe stood up and pushed his chair back. "And I want to hear every word. Put him on speaker."

She nodded. "I'd record it but I don't imagine he'll say anything incriminating. You said he was smart."

He nodded curtly. "I wish you'd have been as smart."

"Would you really have let Gonzales die if I hadn't pushed you to tell me about Soldono?"

"What do you think?" He took the plates to the sink. "You know the answer. I don't give a damn about a son of a bitch like Gonzales. Hell, I probably wouldn't have cared if he was a priest instead of a crook. Not if it meant trouble for you." He put the plates into the dishwasher. "Now go in and make yourself comfortable on the couch and wait for the slimeball to call."

"It's the right thing to do, Joe."

Montalvo didn't call.

One hour passed.

Two hours.

Three.

Joe called Soldono's number and got only the voice mail.

Four.

Five.

"Come to bed." Joe pulled her to her feet. "He's playing games with you."

"Why would he do that?"

"How do I know?" He put his arm around her waist and led her toward their room. "But we didn't hear from Soldono either, and he would have called if he hadn't been able to reach Montalvo with the message."

"Why don't you call Soldono again?"

"As soon as I get you tucked into bed."

"You're treating me like a child."

"Not a child." He pushed her down on the bed. "There's nothing childlike about you. Sometimes I wish there were." He lay down beside her and pulled up the covers. "I'd celebrate the child in you. I'd give a party every day with red balloons and firecrackers." He pulled her close. "Now relax and try to sleep. You did what you could and now it's up to Montalvo."

"Call Soldono again."

"Nag." He took his cell phone out and dialed the number. "Still voice mail." He put the phone on the nightstand. "It could be that Montalvo gave Soldono orders not to talk to us before he did."

"Maybe." She didn't know what to think. Her nerves and expectations had been screwed up to face Montalvo and then there had been nothing. She felt flat and anxious at the same time.

And tired. Very, very tired.

She nestled closer to Joe. "This isn't what I was anticipating for tonight." She had a sudden thought. "Or were you trying to distract me?"

"You think I was trying to lure you with my manly body."

"You would have succeeded."

"Past tense."

"If you-"

"Hush." He pressed his lips to her temple. "Neither one of us is going anywhere. It can wait. I can wait. Love isn't only sex." He chuckled. "Though it's a damn entertaining part of it, isn't it?"

"Yes." She cuddled her cheek into the hollow of his shoulder. "I can't be a child for you. That part of me isn't alive any longer if it ever existed, but I still like the red balloons and the firecrackers. There are celebrations and then there are celebrations. Sex is a celebration. So is lying here close to you."

His arm tightened around her. "God, you're easy to please. Go to sleep, Eve. The celebration will still be going on when you wake up…"