Countdown - Iris Johansen [138]
“That’s crap.”
He nodded at the book on display on his shelf. “Not according to rumors that have drifted down through the centuries. What a coup that would be.” He smiled. “I’ll have it all. The gold, the fame, Cira’s statue that Trevor stole from me.”
“You’ll have a hard time stealing that from North Korea.”
“Not really. I have people all over the world who only want to do whatever I wish.”
“By that time MacDuff will have taken the statue for himself. He’s as obsessed with Cira as everyone else.”
“I know. He almost got in my way a couple years ago when we went after the same document.”
“What document?”
He nodded at the file case in a corner of the bottom shelf. “I have the original in a specially sealed case, but the translation is there. It opened a brand-new school of thought to me regarding Cira and the gold.” He smiled. “If you’re good, I may let you see the translation during one of the latter stages in your training.”
She stiffened. “I won’t be good, you son of a bitch. I won’t do anything you tell me.”
He clucked softly. “Such disrespect. Now, if I was Grozak, I’d slap you. But I’m not Grozak.” He turned to Kim, who’d just come into the room. “Tell Norton to go out to the place where the mine exploded. If he finds Trevor alive, kill him.”
“No!” Panic soared through her. “You can’t do that.”
“But I can. I can do anything. That’s what you’ve got to learn. Go ahead, Kim, tell him.”
Kim turned to leave the room.
“No!”
“Since you’re new at this, if you ask me politely I might tell Kim to forget Trevor.” He smiled. “But you’d have to say please.”
He was staring at her with malicious satisfaction, waiting for her to give in. Submission. She wanted to break his neck.
But pride wasn’t worth the chance of Trevor being killed to teach her a lesson. “Please,” she said through her teeth.
“Not gracious, but I’ll consider it a lesson learned.” He gestured and Kim left the room. “Though Cira would have probably let me kill Trevor rather than give me the satisfaction.”
“No, she wouldn’t. She’d have given in and then waited to get her own back later.”
“You seem very certain.” He tilted his head. “Promising. Very promising.”
Another ripple of fear went through her. God, he was clever. In the space of minutes he’d managed to make her surrender to his will when she’d never thought that possible.
“You’re afraid,” he said softly. “That’s always the first step. I have to find the key and then turn it. You’re not afraid for yourself, but you’re afraid for Trevor. It’s really too bad he’s probably dead. He might be a valuable tool.” He turned and picked up a briefcase on the desk. “But there’s always Joe Quinn and Eve Duncan.” He carefully put the cases with his coins in the briefcase before opening the file cabinet and putting the translations into the same briefcase. “One tool may be as efficient as the other.”
“Is that how you trained Jock? Did you threaten people he loved?”
“Partly. But I had information to gather from him, so it had to be a combination of drugs and psychological training. I’ll be following on those lines with you too, but every case is different.”
“Every case is a horror story. You’re a horror story.”
“But aren’t the most fascinating stories in literature all with their element of horror? Frankenstein, Lestat, Dorian Gray.” He fastened the briefcase. “Come along. I wonder if I should take the original manuscripts instead of letting—”
His telephone rang and he pressed the button to answer it.
I can’t do it,” Jock said. “It’s too late.”
“You set the damn charge,” Trevor said. “Now fix it.”
“He can’t fix it,” MacDuff said as he finished wrapping a make-shift bandage around Trevor’s shoulder. “He’s already activated it. He wasn’t planning on being here. If he gets near the landing pad, it will blow him to kingdom come.”
“Why the landing pad?” Trevor’s gaze shifted to the concrete landing pad half buried in snow. “Why not set a charge near the house?”
“I couldn’t get close enough to the house,” Jock said. “There’s a ring of land mines around the entire perimeter.