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  "At least we have a short respite."

  "Which isn't going to do us any good unless we have something to tell Emily when she's ready to hear it. No word on Staunton?" "Not yet. I'm checking with my contact at Interpol now." "Zelov's hammer?"

  "Do you know how many Zelovs there are in Russia alone? I've gone through most of them and cross-referenced them with any car¬pentry or farm-equipment companies. Nothing."

  "It's more likely that Zelov is a smuggler or criminal of some sort if there's an artifact hidden in the handle of the hammer. See what you can find in FSB files."

  "Easier said than done. I don't have any contacts since the KGB became the FSB. It could get expensive. Any limits?"

  "No."

  "I didn't think so." Dardon was silent a moment. "Aren't you get¬ting too involved? You could still turn her over to Ferguson."

  "That's not an option. Find the connection with Zelov."

  "Okay." Dardon got up and headed toward the door. "Right away. Let's get this show on the road. I'm getting restless. I've never understood why you like to come here. This island is a little too sleepy for me."

  Yes, Garrett could understand why Mykala was too boring for Dar¬don. But for some reason Garrett didn't feel the same restlessness when he was here. He felt at home, as if he belonged. Strange, when he didn't feel at home anywhere else. Was it because of Irana and her hos¬pital? He'd had little to do with it other than financing. And Irana was usually too busy to spend more than an evening or two with him dur¬ing his visits here.

  He crossed to the window and looked down at the hospital on the beach. It appeared chalk white in the moonlight, and he could catch a glimpse of the cottage to the side of the building. The wind was curl¬ing the surf as it washed up on the sand.

  Peace. Is that what Irana felt as she looked out at the sea? Proba¬bly. She had earned that serenity. He hoped that same peace was what Emily was feeling now.

  God knows, it couldn't last long.

  EMILY SCREAMED!

  She sat bolt upright in bed, her heart pounding.

  Staunton. Blood. Agony.

  "It's all right. It's only a dream."

  Emily's gaze flew to the chair in the corner of the room.

  Irana leaned forward out of the shadows and turned on the lamp. "Don't be afraid. I didn't intend to intrude. I just didn't want you to be alone if you woke."

  "How long have you been here?"

  "An hour or so." Irana got to her feet. "Would you like a glass of water?"

  Emily realized her throat was dry. "I can get it."

  "Why? I need to stretch my legs anyway." Irana went to the carafe on the nightstand and poured water into the glass. "I'm not used to being still. If I'm not asleep, I have to move."

  Emily glanced at the clock-2:40 in the morning. "You should be asleep." She took the glass Irana handed her. "I don't need you."

  Irana shrugged. "Maybe I was the one in need. I couldn't sleep be¬cause I was worried about you. I've found that if I don't do something when I'm fretting about someone, I regret it. So I camped out with you." She sat back down in the chair. "Drink your water. I know you want me to leave. I'll do it when I'm sure you're wide-awake. It's too easy to fall back into a nightmare."

  Emily took a sip of water. "I'm awake now." But she found she didn't want Irana to leave yet. The horror of Staunton and Joel was still hovering too close. "You're being very kind, but I'm sure you have other patients who need you. I didn't mean to impose when Garrett brought me here."

  "You haven't imposed. You work, you eat, you sleep." She paused. "And sometimes Satan sends you a nightmare to torment you."

  "Satan?" Yes, Staunton was as close to the concept of Satan as she'd ever known. "I guess you could say that. There are all kinds of Satans in this world. I suppose it's natural for you to blame it on Lu¬cifer. Garrett said you were once a nun."

  "Yes."

  "And that you were having a crisis of faith when he first met you."

  "Not of faith. I never had doubt in God or my desire to serve him." She grimaced. "It was how I was to serve him that was the trouble. I was always rebellious, always questioning, always too willing to be¬lieve that my conscience alone should dictate my actions. The Church is a strong and wonderful institution. I tried for eleven years to serve God in the way that the Church said that I should." She shook her head. "I failed."

  "Garrett said that he was partly to blame."

  "Did he? He's wrong, and I've told him so a hundred times." She smiled. "But if guilt makes him keep my hospital running and helps to heal my patients, that's not such a bad thing. Someday the guilt will fade away, and there will only be the goodness and generosity of the deed left behind."

  "Why does he think he's to blame?"

  "Ask him. He told me no confessionals. Even though I'm the one baring my soul." She got to her feet. "And now I'll let you try to go back to sleep. Though I don't promise I won't drop in on you again."

  "It's really not necessary. But I do thank you for the thought."

  "It's necessary," Irana said. "For my own peace of mind. I'd like to say it's God's will, but I don't have that kind of arrogance. I suspect it's because the Sisters were right and I'm vain and selfish and I believe far too much in my own instincts." She paused as she opened the door. "If you press the button on the nightstand, it will ring in my room. I'll come if you need me."

  Emily shook her head.

  Irana smiled. "Have it your own way. But you'll have to put up with me serving your meals from now on. And I'm cutting you down to six hours of work at the hospital. That therapy is over."

  "No!"

  "Yes, that was as much an escape as if I gave you a sedative. It's time we gradually eased you back into the real world."

  The real world. Yes, these last days have been like being in a dream, Emily thought. Hard work, staring down at the tiles she was scrubbing. Then later, the billowing white curtains, sea breeze, bright sun followed by darkness.

  "But not yet." Irana's gaze was reading her expression. "I said grad¬ually, Emily. Garrett wants me to keep you resting as long as I can."

  "And do you always do as he orders?"

  "Heavens no, but sometimes we actually agree." She waved as she closed the door behind her.

  The real world. Staunton and ugly memories and nightmares that might not ever stop. She had to face it all soon.

  But not now, not this minute. She lay back on the pillow and gazed out at the moonlight filtering through the window. She felt an odd sense of peace and serenity. She could feel the breeze as it rushed past the sheer curtains to brush her cheeks. Nothing harsh, nothing threatening. Irana would come if she pressed the button on the night¬stand. Garrett was in his villa on the hill. Neither of them could be called friends, but she felt safe with them.

  And she was not alone.

  SIX

  "COME ON." IRANA STRODE across the tiny patio, reached out, and pulled Emily out of the deck chair and onto her feet. "You look en¬tirely too lazy. We're going for a walk on the beach. I need exercise, and I want company."

  "You say that every day." Emily smiled as she fell into step with Irana as they walked out onto the sand. "Poor Irana. All these people on the island who love you, and you have to depend on me for company? I don't think so."

  "I don't see why not." Irana grinned. "I'd have to make conversation with anyone else. You don't talk that much." She made a face. "But I may have to find someone else soon. You're almost back to normal. Of course, I don't know what normal is for you. All I know is the Emily you are now."

  "I'm not sure I know who I am right now either." She gazed out at the sun-baked beach. It was amazing how she had become accustomed to life on this island in the last ten days. She had lived only in the mo¬ment, and Irana had been the center of those moments. Walks on the beach, mornings when she'd helped out at Irana's infirmary, evenings when Irana had occasionally dropped in and had her dinner with Emily. "But I know I'm grateful to you, Irana."

 
; "Why? I've done nothing."

  "That's it. You've done nothing. You don't ask me questions; you let me take, without giving." She paused. "And you haven't preached at me."

  "I don't have the right. I don't know what you went through in those mountains. I can only do the best I can to live my life according to the Golden Rule and try not to hurt anyone else. I let God handle everything." She picked up a seashell. "Isn't this pretty?"

  "Beautiful."

  "And if God can make something this beautiful, I imagine he can heal what Satan broke. He doesn't need me." She smiled at Emily. "He's already started. Every time you look out at that surf, don't you feel just a little better? Every time the tide goes out, doesn't it take a tiny bit of the pain with it?"

  "Perhaps." She gazed down at the seashell in Irana's hand. "God or nature?"

  "God is nature."

  "Well, God or nature or Irana. I'm grateful to all of you," Emily said. "I'll be sorry to leave this island."

  "For the first few days. Then you'll be caught up in the real world. That's where you belong."

  "I'm not so sure. It can be very cruel in the real world."

  "Yes, but your instincts are to go to battle against that cruelty; you're one of the soldiers."

  Emily's brow wrinkled in puzzlement. "Soldiers?"

  "We all have our roles in life. Haven't you battled your entire ca¬reer to keep beauty and history alive?"

  She nodded slowly. "But I never thought of myself as a soldier. Is Garrett a soldier?"

  "Oh, yes. Without doubt. The quintessential soldier. And he knows it. He's not like you. He doesn't have one sole focus. He's been fight¬ing all his life in one way or the other. That's why he decided to go after you. He couldn't resist. You were just one more battle he had to win."

  "All his life?"

  "Most of it anyway. From what I could gather from Dardon and bits Garrett has dropped. His father was a drunkard and a criminal who moved from country to country from the time Garrett was born. He evidently paid no attention to Garrett, who had to scramble just to eat. He was a street kid, and it's amazing that he managed to survive. But he did survive and managed to acquire an amazing if unconven¬tional education along the way. He knows a little bit about practically everything. Do you know he speaks nine languages? The longest time he was allowed to settle anywhere were the years he spent in Afghani¬stan. His father ran guns there and sold weapons to the rebels. He was killed two years after he arrived in the mountains, but Garrett stayed on with friends he'd made there."

  Emily remembered the man who had appeared out of the dark¬ness as they had left Shafir Ali's camp. "I think I must have met one of them. He helped Garrett get me out."

  "Karif? Garrett told me about him. They're good friends. Proba¬bly as close as Garrett has ever been to anyone. He stayed in Afghani¬stan when Garrett took off to make his fortune. But Garrett goes back to visit him every now and then." She shrugged. "Evidently he and Garrett are a lot alike."

  "Another soldier?"

  She nodded. "Everyone is a soldier in Afghanistan. It goes with the territory. If not by nature, by necessity."

  "And what is your nature? Are you a soldier, too, Irana?"

  Irana shook her head. "I'm a caretaker. I heal the wounds. I hold and treasure what you soldiers win." She chuckled. "Which means I can stay here on my island and let you all come back to me. Much pleasanter."

  "But not necessarily easier. I've never seen anyone work as hard as you.

  "Work is good for the soul. And it keeps me out of trouble." "Trouble? You?"

  "I'm essentially lazy by nature. I just have to overcome." Irana pointed to the lighthouse a mile down the beach. "I'll race you. Who¬ever gets there first has to cook lunch."

  "You always win."

  "Of course, why else would I want to do it? You don't even have the excuse of that wound in your leg any longer. It's almost healed." She took off. "Did I tell you I ran track in college?"

  Emily was on her heels. "I played soccer. But you're not as young as I am. I'll find a way to-"

  "You see?" Irana was laughing. "Instinct. You're going into battle mode. It was only a matter of time." She streaked ahead. "Only a mat¬ter of time…"

  "I HOPE YOU'RE READY," Irana told Garrett when he picked up the phone that night. "Because Emily is very close."

  "I was expecting to hear from you a lot sooner." Garrett said. "You held her off amazingly well. I'm grateful."

  "Don't be grateful. I like her. I'll miss her." She paused. "Take care of her. I know you won't be able to stop Emily from doing anything she wants to do, but you can protect her. Do it."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  "T '~ "

  I mean it.

  "I know you do. But I may not have as much control of the situa¬tion as you might think. You've seen her weak and malleable. That's not the Emily I brought out of the mountains. She was tough, very tough. Once she's back on her feet, she'll be a force to reckon with."

  "She's back on her feet." Irana laughed. "In fact, she beat me in a race to the lighthouse today. I was proud of her."

  Garrett knew what she meant. He had felt the same way on that trek through the mountains. Protective, admiring, and oddly proud. "Then I'll just have to wait for her to make the next move."

  "You won't have to wait long." "How long?"

  "Maybe a day or two at most. I've been expecting her to make a move at any time. Be ready." Irana hung up.

  I'm ready, Garrett thought as he pressed the disconnect. He had been edgy and restless for the last week. It had annoyed the hell out of him to have to step back and let Irana handle Emily's rehabilitation. It was the smart thing to do, but he had felt possessive of Emily since the moment he had taken her out of that tent. Maybe before. Perhaps since the day he had first seen her photo in the paper.

  "Irana is turning her loose?" Dardon asked.

  Garrett shrugged. "She has no choice. Emily will do what she wants to do. But it would help if I could find out something to give Emily when she decides she's had enough of Mykala."

  "Was that a gentle nudge?" Dardon asked. "I've tapped practically everyone I can. It's nuts that I can't find a record on Staunton. I'm trying local police records now in Sydney, Australia, and I may be on the right track. She did say Staunton was Australian. Right?"

  "Right."

  "I found a Robert Hurker, who once used the Staunton pseudo¬nym in Sydney. I'm following up on it." "And what about this Zelov's hammer?"

  "Now I may really have something there. Not the hammer, but Zelov." He chuckled. "Or I may not. It's pretty weird." "What's weird?"

  "Let me work on it." He got to his feet. "As a matter of fact, I should have some info being faxed tonight. I'll go to the office and check."

  "You don't have to work all night, Dardon."

  "Yes, I do. You want to know." He added soberly, "And I owe you big-time for saving my ass with Ferguson. I know you don't want me talking about it, but I won't forget."

  Garrett turned back to the window as Dardon left. The moonlight was silvering the sands beside the cottage where Emily was staying. There was lamplight shining from a window in the front of the house. She was awake. Another nightmare?

  One or two days, and he'd be beside her to help deal with them. One or two days, and the waiting would be over.

  That wasn't good enough, dammit.

  He wheeled away from the window and strode toward the door.

  TAKE DEEP BREATHS, EMILY TOLD herself.

  She was still in a cold sweat. She ran a damp cloth over her face and poured herself a glass of water. She took a sip, and her hand tight¬ened on the water glass to keep it from shaking.

  She shouldn't let Staunton do this to her. She had thought she was getting stronger. She hadn't had a nightmare for three nights.

  She was getting stronger. It would just take time. She just had to hold on and keep herself from-

  A knock at the door.

  Irana? Probably. It was strange how Irana seemed to
sense when she needed her.

  "I'm fine, Irana," she said as she threw open the door. "Though how you-" Garrett.

  "You don't look fine." Garrett was scowling. "You're shaking, and you look like you've been in a steam bath. Irana's nuts if she thinks you're getting better."

  She stiffened. "I am better. I'm having a few problems tonight, but I'm dealing with them. So go away and leave me alone."

  He didn't move. "I know that's what I should do. I should never have come down here."

  "Then why did you do it?"

  "I saw your light." He stood looking at her. "Come on. Let's walk on the beach."

  "I'm going to try to go back to sleep."

  "The fresh air will do you good." He took the glass she was still grasping in her hand and set it on the chest by the door. He glanced at the oversized tee shirt she wore. "It's not chilly. You won't have to bother getting dressed."

  She hesitated. "What do you really want? Why are you here?"

  He shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe because I'm feeling this weird sense of possessiveness about you, and it irritates the hell out of me to have to step back and leave everything to Irana. Maybe because I've never been a patient man, and I've been strained to the limit waiting around for you."

  "What are you talking about? You're the one who brought me here."

  "So I'm unreasonable." He took a step back. "Will you come?"

  She stood looking at him. She could see that restless volatility. He'd always been so assured, so completely certain of his actions, that this change in him disturbed her. But she would rather wrestle with Garrett's complexities than stay here alone to battle memories.

  "Yes." She didn't look at him as she went past him onto the beach. "Has Dardon found out anything about Staunton?"

  "Not yet. The only thing I know about are the rumors Karif told me when he led me to the camp. A foreigner with big-time funds." He paused. "Almost unlimited funds. Was that your impression?"

  "/ can do anything I want to do. There's no one I can't buy."

  Breathe deep. Don't remember anything but the words them¬selves. Don't remember what he'd been doing to Joel when he'd said those words. "Yes," she said haltingly. "He said that no one would ever be able to catch him. If you have enough-"