Reap the Wind Page 3

  She knelt and gathered a handful of muddy earth, cool and damp and alive as Vasaro was alive. She felt a sense of comfort flow through her in a warm stream, a balm to the rawness of the pain. Everything would be all right. She could get through this. She just had to be as strong as Vasaro. She would have to work harder, be cleverer, find a way to convince those people at the bank that Vasaro was more than a mortgage or a deed.

  Her hand closed tightly on the damp earth.

  Life.

  “He’s here, Alex.” Pavel threw open the door and stepped aside to allow Brian Ledford to enter Alex’s study. “Will you need me?”

  “Of course we won’t need you.” Brian Ledford shrugged out of his beaver-collared overcoat as he strolled into the room.

  Pavel ignored him. “Alex?”

  Alex shook his head.

  Pavel hesitated, frowning uneasily, his gaze on Ledford. Then he shrugged his massive shoulders and shut the door.

  “Cautious bastard. I’d forgotten how protective Pavel was of you.” Ledford tossed his overcoat on the brown leather couch. “Good God, it’s cold out there. I hope you appreciate my sacrifice in coming out in this weather to see you.”

  Beneath his coat Ledford wore a Savile Row gray tweed suit; he pulled steel-gray Italian leather gloves from his hands and unwound a blue cashmere scarf from his strong, thick neck. Other than Ledford’s sartorial elegance, he looked little different from the man Alex had last seen five years before. His short, kinky dark blond hair had a little more gray threading it, his tall, deep-chested frame carried a few more pounds, but the broad, rawboned features were exactly the same, and so was the expression of boundless good humor beaming from his ruddy face and bright hazel eyes.

  His voice boomed out heartily. “Ah, Alex, my boy, how good it is to see you again. When I spoke to you on the phone last night, I admit I was a little irritated with you, but I realize now how foolish it is to let present conflicts interfere with our fondness for each other.” He smiled as he dropped into the deeply cushioned chair across from where Alex was standing by the window. He laid the gray gloves he still held on his lap before stretching out his heavily muscled legs and crossing them at the ankle. “Sometimes I miss those days in Virginia. I even miss our chess games.” He grimaced. “I suppose that makes me a masochist, because I never won. But I’m an optimistic man, and there was always hope even when pitting myself against the Company’s superman.”

  For an instant Alex felt himself being swept away by Ledford’s charisma as he had so many years before. Then memory returned and he could look at him with clear eyes. He warily shook his head. “I’m afraid I never missed either you or those days, Ledford.”

  Ledford tossed the light blue cashmere scarf aside. “I gather you’re not in the mood for pleasantries? Well then, let’s get down to business. How much do you know?”

  “You’re part of the group behind the art thefts. It’s probably a well-organized, well-funded operation.” Alex smiled faintly. “And the thefts are only part of something bigger in scope.”

  Ledford nodded approvingly. “Anything else?”

  Alex kept his expression bland as he took a wild shot. “Black Medina.”

  Ledford threw back his head and laughed. “When we started the operation, I expected you to make the connection eventually and I warned my associate that you’d be a danger to us.” He shook his head. “He wouldn’t believe me. You do have to admit you’re pretty unbelievable at times.”

  Alex felt a ripple of excitement. Jackpot. He’d been right about the connection. “Associate? We’re not talking about the Company, are we?”

  “I left the CIA after you pulled off your grand slam and bolted the fold. I’m involved in much more lucrative endeavors now.” He looked around the study with appraising eyes. “Gorgeous place, Alex. Excellent taste. I particularly admire that van Gogh you have in the foyer. The entire chalet is just what I would have expected of you. Private, aesthetic, and yet a touch of the voluptuous in color and fabric. You always were something of a Renaissance man.” His glance shifted to the stack of books on the desk. “An excellent library?”

  “Of course.”

  Ledford nodded. “A stupid question. That inquiring brain has to be fed. I remember how you devoured every book in sight when you defected to us. I had to keep running out to the libraries and bringing you more.” He gazed directly into Alex’s eyes. “We were good friends then, weren’t we, Alex?”

  “Tolerable.”

  “You liked me.” Ledford grinned. “Admit it. You thought I was Uncle Sam and Mark Twain rolled into one.”

  “You shouldn’t congratulate yourself too much. I was easy. I was at a stage where I needed to believe in something or someone.” He inclined his head in agreement. “But yes, you were very good, indeed.”

  Ledford nodded. “You bet I was. The best. And I’ve gotten better since we parted ways. I consider my time in the CIA as basic training. I’m now reaching my full potential.”

  “You wouldn’t be here if you’d gotten better. You’re still predictable, Ledford.”

  “Only to you. We all have our own nemesis, and you’re mine.” He paused. “And I’m yours, Alex.” He smiled. “May I have a drink?”

  “No.”

  Ledford snapped his fingers. “I knew you’d say that. You, too, are predictable. You won’t serve an enemy in your own house. There’s something positively medieval about you at times, Alex.”

  Alex shrugged. “First I’m a Renaissance man and now I’m medieval. Make up your mind.”

  “I was right both times. You’re brilliant and ruthless as any Medici and yet you have a certain code.” He shook his head. “Such codes limit an ambitious man. I wonder how you’ve climbed as high as you have with that albatross around your neck.” His brow wrinkled as he gazed at Alex. “And you’ve never learned the cardinal rule.”

  “I’m sure you’re going to enlighten me as to what that is.”

  Ledford made a clucking noise. “Sarcasm isn’t necessary. I was counting on conducting a nice, friendly conversation.” He sat up straighter in his chair. “The cardinal rule is adaptation. Change your coloration to suit your surroundings.”

  “Some people would call that hypocritical.”

  “Only the fools of the world. And you’re no fool, even if you do make mistakes.”

  “What mistakes are you referring to?”

  “Having Pavel make that call to Desloge. You might as well have blown a whistle and waved your arms. First I was steaming mad, but then I was almost glad you decided to put your hand in. My feelings about you have always been ambivalent.” He tilted his head, studying Alex. “You know you’re a beautiful specimen. I was quite mad about you at one time. It was hard as hell to keep myself from trying to seduce you when we were working so closely together.” He burst out laughing and slapped his hand on his knee as he saw the astonishment on Alex’s face. “That rocked you. God, you never knew, did you?”

  “No.”

  Ledford shrugged. “They were a macho bunch at the Company. One false step and I would have been out. Adaptation.”

  “I see.”

  “But you were a real temptation to me. You frustrated me sexually and bested me mentally.” Ledford’s smile faded. “I think that’s why I started to hate you.”

  Alex leaned back against the windowsill. “Not because I beat you at chess?”

  “Well, that too. I hate to lose. It hurts my pride not to be the best at whatever I do. How could I compete against that damn talent of yours?” His index finger idly rubbed the leather on the arm of the chair. “But I adapted. I became your buddy.”

  “And my controller,” Alex added without expression.

  “Someone had to do it. All that wild talent just waiting to be used. . . .” He shook his head regretfully. “You made me look damn good until that conscience of yours kicked into gear. You weren’t intended to know about the results of the Afghanistan project.” A glint of anger appeared on his face. “W
hen you exploded you brought a good deal of humiliation down on my head. I suppose it was Pavel who told you?”

  “Yes.”

  “I advised the Agency against accepting Pavel when you both came over. I knew it would be better to isolate you.”

  “I wouldn’t have defected without him.”

  “Ah, friendship . . . What a wonderful thing it is.” Ledford smiled. “You’ve been together for how many years?”

  “Thirteen. We met when we were both in the Spetznez. As you well know.” Alex turned away from the window and stared at Ledford. “And you didn’t come here to praise the merits of friendship.”

  “No, I came here to tell you to back off. This is a bigger operation than anything you could dream.” Ledford stood up in one lithe, leisurely movement. “Stay on your mountaintop and work your puzzles. Leave the real world to those who are prepared to deal with it.”

  “Is that what your ‘associate’ wants?”

  Ledford’s smile remained but became set in place. “I should have known you’d guess we weren’t in agreement. No, he wants you on the team. He regards you as a valuable asset.” His voice lowered in silken softness. “I would find that intolerable. I won’t take second place ever again.”

  “No?” Alex’s tone was deliberately mocking. “Pity. You filled it so well.”

  “You don’t understand, do you? When you left the Company, everything for which I’d worked for fifteen years came crashing down around me. In another two years I would have taken over McMillan’s job and been able to launch myself to the top, where I belonged.” A flush reddened Ledford’s cheeks. “I didn’t leave the Company; they jettisoned me because I wasn’t clever enough to see you were going after McMillan. I was pretty frenzied for a while. I wanted to take everything away from you, as you’d taken it from me. I regard it as a triumph of self-discipline that I’ve managed to subdue my anger and ignore you all these years.” Ledford’s eyes narrowed on Alex’s face. “You’ve never understood the real reason I developed such a passion for the Wind Dancer, have you?”

  “It’s a magnificent work of art.”

  “And the ultimate symbol of power. From the moment I saw it, I knew it would always be a beacon, showing me what I could be.”

  “Delusions of glory?”

  “Not delusions. Truth. You’ve got everything you want now. Money, security, women. Why dabble when it won’t benefit you?”

  “Perhaps because it’s an interesting problem. You should know how difficult I find it to resist solving problems. At one time you used that weakness of mine.” Why was he goading Ledford? Alex wondered wearily. He had thought he had put his antagonism and disillusionment about Ledford behind him, yet he found he was experiencing a perverse pleasure in taunting the man. It was rather like teasing a rattlesnake just to hear it rattle. “And it gets a little boring at times on my mountaintop.”

  Ledford nodded with immediate understanding. “I remember boredom was always a problem for you. Boredom and curiosity. You really should remember that curiosity killed that proverbial cat.” He glanced at his wristwatch and smiled. “Well, I must run along. It was good seeing you and reliving old times.”

  Alex stiffened at the abruptness of Ledford’s departure. “You’re leaving?”

  “My driver and two of my subordinates are in the living room waiting. I have to get to the airport while the weather is still clear.” Ledford picked up his coat and put it on. “I knew when I came here it would be useless. You’re obviously not going to be influenced by words, and I’m a very busy man.”

  “Another ‘Mona Lisa’ to steal?”

  “We both know there’s only one ‘Mona Lisa.’ ” He tugged on his leather gloves. “Just as there’s only one Alex Karazov.”

  Alex inclined his head in a mocking bow. “I’m now waiting for the shaft.”

  “No shaft. I told you my feelings for you were ambivalent.” Ledford flexed his big hands, obviously enjoying the feel of the soft leather against his palms. “But I won’t compete with you in my own arena, so I’ll just have to discourage you from entertaining any offers.”

  “Which means?”

  “I’d rather have you as an enemy than on the same team. Oh, I know I can’t touch you at the moment. What a clever lad you were to get both the CIA and the KGB in a stranglehold. We really don’t want to involve them in our plans right now.” Ledford’s broad smile brimmed with goodwill as he added, “By the way, you did know that luscious Italian model you’ve been screwing is a KGB swallow?”

  “I’ve suspected it. I wasn’t sure if she belonged to them or to the CIA,” Alex said without inflection. “Angela’s affiliations don’t really affect our relationship one way or the other.”

  Ledford nodded. “You always were a cynical bastard where women were concerned. I thought you were too savvy to form an attachment with even the most skilled whore they could produce.” He picked up his cashmere scarf and moved toward the door. “Still, there was the faintest possibility you cared something for her. Why don’t you give her a call?”

  Alex stiffened. “Is that a threat?”

  “No, just a suggestion.” He stared at Alex. “You’re still finding it hard to see me as I really am. You remember me only as the man you knew five years ago. I told you I’d graduated from basic training and I assure you that I don’t hesitate to make examples these days. Sometimes I even enjoy it. Good-bye, Alex. Our little chat has been pleasant. I do hope you won’t force me to look you up again.”

  Alex felt a chill along his spine as he watched the door close behind Ledford. Those last words had been a threat and his reference to Angela no coincidence. Pavel was right; Alex had made a mistake in underestimating Ledford.

  Christ, he hoped it wasn’t too late!

  He moved quickly to the desk, picked up the receiver, and punched in Angela Di Marco’s number at her apartment in Rome.

  No answer.

  Alex listened to the ringing at the other end of the line, the panic rising in him. Nothing had to be wrong. It was only midnight. Angela could be out for the evening or indulging in one of her frequent sexual encounters and not bothering to answer the phone.

  “Hello.” Angela’s voice was impatient.

  Relief surged through him. “Angela, stay in your apartment. Lock the door. If you’ve got anyone with you, get rid of him.”

  “Alex?”

  “Don’t argue. Just do as I say.” He paused. “It might be a good idea to call your contact in the KGB and tell him to reassign you somewhere out of Europe. It’s not going to be healthy for you here.”

  She didn’t speak for a moment. “You know? It was nothing personal, Alex. I truly like you.”

  “I know. Nothing personal.”

  He hung up the receiver. His initial relief was quickly being replaced by guilt and self-disgust. He had only been amusing himself, toying with his damn puzzle, fighting boredom when he had taunted Ledford. Now the game had become serious. A woman could have died to make sure Alex would reject any bid to work for Ledford’s “associate.” He had underestimated Ledford, who wouldn’t make him the one to suffer for it.

  But Angela hadn’t been hurt. Why not?

  Alex closed his eyes, trying to put the pieces together.

  Because Ledford knew her death would not have affected Alex in any meaningful way.

  But why offer an empty threat? Why make sure that Alex would immediately make a call to Rome?

  “I left my driver and two of my subordinates in the living room.”

  What had Ledford’s men been doing while he had been talking to Alex in the study? Why did he want to make sure Alex would remain in the study and give him a chance to leave the chalet?

  Alex felt a sudden cold sickness in the pit of his stomach.

  Who was the only person in the entire world Alex gave a damn about?

  Angela was the red herring. . . .

  “Christ!” Alex’s eyes flicked open. “Pavel!” He whirled and ran across the study toward the
door. “Pavel? Where the hell are—”

  The first thing Alex saw was the blue cashmere scarf looped around Pavel’s throat.

  Pavel was strapped in a white suede easy chair facing the study, a leather gag in his mouth. His black eyes bulged from their sockets and his heavy features were frozen in a rictus of agony.

  He had been castrated—then carved from belly to breastbone with the butcher knife that still protruded from his chest.

  2

  “Someone wants to see you, Caitlin.” Jacques knelt beside her on the ground, holding the rosebush Caitlin was planting while she gently pressed the earth around the roots. “He’s waiting up on the hill.”

  Caitlin stiffened, the muscles of her shoulders going rigid before she forced herself to relax. She pressed more earth around the bush’s roots. “A man from the bank?”

  “I don’t think so. He doesn’t look—” Jacques stopped and shrugged. “I don’t know how to describe him. He’s hard to fit in a mold.”

  Caitlin glanced up the hill at the man who was only a dark silhouette against the setting sun. “He’s probably selling fertilizer.” She lifted her arm and wiped her perspiring forehead with the sleeve of her blue cotton shirt. “Can’t you get rid of him?”

  Jacques shook his head. “I tried, but he won’t go.” He chuckled. “And I doubt if he’d be hauling fertilizer in that Lamborghini he parked in front of the house.”

  “Oh, damn, he is from the bank.”

  “If he is, you can bet the auditors keep an eagle eye on him,” Jacques said dryly. “Go and see what he wants. I’ll take over here. You need a break anyway.”

  “So do you.” Caitlin stood and stretched to ease her back. Merde, she was tired. She had been working since before dawn and there were still two rows to be planted. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “It will be dark soon. Go on to the house and we’ll start again tomorrow.”

  Caitlin shook her head as she wiped her hands on her jeans. “There’s too much to do tomorrow. You’ll be finished with the rosemary in the north field and we’ll have to start picking the lavender. I’ll finish up here tonight.” She moved down the row of newly planted rosebushes, her gaze fixed on the man standing watching them from the hilltop. “What’s his name?”