Chasing the Night - Iris Johansen [41]
“They won’t turn a blind eye. Not to this. They’d be too afraid.”
“Russo.”
“All right, I’ll be quiet. But you may be sorry that you didn’t listen to me.” He turned on his heel. “Dabala said that if you didn’t call him, he’d come to see you. You don’t want him to lead the CIA to you.”
“I’ll call him.” He watched Russo leave the room. The CIA might be aware something was going on but couldn’t be permitted to know anything concrete about his deal with Dabala until he was ready to leave. Washington might accept nearly any corruption from him as long as he was a constant source of information, but even a hint of this business would cause them to bolt in panic. They were extremely sensitive to any Middle Eastern activity, and Rakovac had been careful to keep away from that contingent during their partnership.
But the Middle East was where the real money lay, and fanatics cared nothing how much it cost to grease the way to paradise. Naturally, he’d had to turn to them to find a way to his own paradise.
But paradise had its own restrictions, he thought regretfully. He wouldn’t be able to make those delightful calls to Catherine after he made his exit. It would be too dangerous not to break all ties to the outside world. The delicious game he had played all these years must be brought to an end. He reached out and touched Catherine’s throat in the photo. She had a lovely throat and many times when the anger had come to the surface, he’d wanted to slit it. Passing fancy. The mental torture he inflicted was much more enjoyable.
Oh, well, if he was going to end the charade, he would do it with style and ferocity. He had to have a plan that would be the crowning blow to his revenge on Catherine. It couldn’t terminate with just a final burst of agony from a sniper bullet. He’d bring her close to him so that he could watch every nuance of her pain.
And not only Catherine. That wouldn’t be in keeping with the grand finale.
“Who first?” he murmured. “Maybe a warning to punish you and show you what’s to come?” His finger moved to caressingly touch the lips of the woman in the photo. “Yes, that’s an excellent idea, Catherine. Let’s start with Eve Duncan.”
Chapter
7
Eve’s eyes flew open.
What had she heard?
It had been a small sound, but enough to disturb her restless slumber. She checked the bedside clock—5:42 A.M.
Probably nothing. The sound hadn’t been loud enough to wake Joe. She wasn’t accustomed to having guests in the house. She and Joe led an intensely solitary life.
She lay there, listening.
Movement? The creak of the couch in the living room? Kelly was only a young girl to have gone through so much. Perhaps she was having trouble sleeping in a strange place.
Eve obviously wasn’t going to be able to go back to sleep until she checked on her. She carefully moved away from Joe and slid out of bed.
“Eve?” Joe asked sleepily.
“Shh, I’ll be right back.” She glided toward the door. “I’m having trouble sleeping.”
“I know a therapy for that.”
She chuckled. “I’ll discuss that with you when I come back.”
“Do that…”
He was dozing off as she quietly closed the door behind her.
The hall was dark, but there was a light in the living room. Bright light.
She moved quickly down the hall.
No Kelly.
The couch was vacant, the covers tossed to one side.
Where the hell was—
“I didn’t mean to wake you.” Kelly was perched on the high stool at the desk usually occupied by Catherine. She was dressed in loose blue-striped pajamas, and her bare feet dangled above the floor. Her blue eyes were wide in her pale face, and she looked even younger than she had earlier in the evening. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t sleep.”
“I had trouble, too.” Eve stiffened as she saw the sliver of bone in Kelly’s hand. “Put that down.”
Kelly quickly put the bone back on the table. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I didn’t hurt anything. I didn’t think you’d mind if I—”
“I do mind. This is my work, and it’s not