Blood Trust - Eric van Lustbader [122]
“And how do you propose to do that?”
“These days INS has its nose stuck up Homeland Security’s ass,” Paull said. “I put up Hank Dickerson to replace me. He’ll do what I ask him to do.”
Alli called Jack’s attention back to the wound. While she held the two sides of the wound together, Jack applied a thin line of glue. She kept the pressure on while Jack capped the tube.
“Hurt much?” she said.
Jack smiled at her.
“We still need to protect it or it might open and start bleeding all over again.”
“I can help with that.” Edon turned her back to them, slipped her shirt over her head, and, using her teeth, began to tear it into long strips.
Jack’s head came up, his eyes fixed on the burnished skin of her back. “Wait a minute.” He stood up and went over to her. Covering her breasts, she began to turn around, but he said, “No, stay right where you are.”
He turned her slightly so that her back was more in the light cast by the flames. He touched her tenderly.
“Where did you get these scars?”
“I was punished. Once.”
“Who did this?” Though the scars were fresh, their length, the pattern was identical to those on Annika’s back. “Who punished you?”
“Arian Xhafa himself,” Edon said. “This is his mark, his punishment.”
Jack felt all the breath go out of him as everything fell into place. No wonder Annika was so interested in coming after Arian Xhafa—it was he who had marked her, just as he had marked this girl. Jack put his hand to his head. Every time he thought he had come to the core of Annika, another layer of secrets and lies was revealed.
God help Arian Xhafa, he thought.
TWENTY-FIVE
THE SYRIAN tilted his face up toward the sun. “Pity about Oriel Jovovich Batchuk,” he said. “We had a lucrative deal with him, and once he became Russia’s deputy prime minister he was our best single customer.”
Xhafa shot him a glance. “That was months ago. We’ve replaced him ten times over.”
“Ah, but Batchuk was also the father of Annika Dementieva, and she is so very special.”
Xhafa shifted uncomfortably on the hardwood bench.
The Syrian knew better than anyone the relationship between Dementieva and Xhafa, though “relationship” was an inadequate term to describe what had happened between them. The knowledge sickened him; it was no surprise that their hatred for one another knew no bounds; Xhafa was obsessed with her. This enmity would prove dangerous for him if he allowed Xhafa to go after her. Xhafa wasn’t exactly rational when it came to the subject of Annika Dementieva. He and Xhafa were tied together through Gemini Holdings, the shell corporation that Caroline, in her genius, had set up for them to make their international deals legitimate. He was at risk as long as Annika remained alive. Though Caro had assured him that no one could trace either of them back to Gemini, he was not at all certain that included Annika and her devil of a grandfather.
Caro was incredibly smart and incredibly proficient at whatever she set her hand to; he had seen that for himself many times over. She was an autodidact—she had taught herself pretty much everything she knew about business, computer programming, and the Internet. He was stunned at what she could accomplish at her workstation.
“You must let it go, Arian. This is business. You must leave Dementieva to me,” the Syrian said now. “You need to keep your eyes on the prize—and on Jack McClure. The magnitude of his interference is an unexpected complication.”
Xhafa sighed. “I suppose I needn’t remind you it was through McClure that you lured Dementieva out of hiding.”
For a moment, the Syrian went dead still, and was aware of the blood draining from Xhafa’s face. Yet that wasn’t enough for him.
“When I need reminding, I’ll ask Caro.” His words were delivered with an acid bite. He realized, belatedly, that he had confided too much of his plan to his man. He bit his tongue at the mistake; he’d not make it again. No one understood his mind, save perhaps Caro. This was her true value to him, one he’d rather die with than divulge to anyone.
“Apologies,” Xhafa managed to get out, after