Countdown - Iris Johansen [36]
“Not too bad.” She glanced around the room. It was generally pleasant, with Persian carpets and a secretary and cushioned chair against one wall. Another one of the seemingly never-ending number of faded, threadbare tapestries occupied the wall opposite the bed. But a huge four-poster with drapes that matched the one at the window loomed with intimidating majesty across the room. “I’m supposed to sleep in that?”
“It will be fine.” Mario chuckled. “I have one in my room too, and I had the same reaction. But the mattress is very comfortable and definitely not from the fourteenth century.”
She grimaced. “If you say so. I’m a slum kid, and I’m not used to beds that are almost as big as one of the foster homes where I grew up.”
“But you have your own bathroom,” Bartlett announced proudly, nodding toward a door across the room. “MacDuff’s father converted a few bedrooms to very practical uses.”
She smiled. “You’re obsessed with the glory of modern plumbing. Not that I’m knocking it. I’m aching to wash up and get rid of some of this travel grime.”
“Then we’ll leave you.” Mario turned toward the door. “Shall I come to get you and take you down to dinner?”
“I’m sure I can find—” His expression was so disappointed that she said instead, “That would be very kind of you.”
“Good.” He gave her another brilliant smile. “But the kindness is yours.” He hurried from the room.
“I believe he’s smitten,” Bartlett said. “Not that I’m surprised.”
“He’s not the type of man I’d expect to be working for Trevor. Where did he find him?”
“Through the university in Naples. Trevor was trying to avoid the scholastic contingent, but after Dupoi double-crossed him, he decided that he’d risk it. Since Grozak was on the radar he couldn’t afford to take a chance on a freelance translator. So he interviewed several brilliant antiquity students before he hired Mario and brought him here under his eye.”
“He said he had to watch him.” She shook her head. “But I can’t imagine him being a threat.”
“No, the threat is to Mario. He’d be vulnerable out on his own. Trevor didn’t want to risk him getting his throat cut.”
“But not enough not to use him.”
“Mario knew there was a risk. Trevor was honest with him.” He headed for the door. “There are a few items of clothing in the cupboard in the bathroom. If there’s anything else I can do, call me. I left my phone number on the card on the secretary. I hope you’ll be comfortable. I did my best.”
“Thank you. I’m sure I’ll be very comfortable.”
He smiled as he opened the door. “I try. Perhaps I’m a little smitten too.” He chuckled as he saw her eyes widen. “Strictly on a platonic basis. You aroused my brotherly protective instincts when I met you when you were only seventeen. I’m afraid they’re still in place. Good thing. My life is much too interesting these days to complicate it. I’ll see you at dinner.”
After the door closed behind him, she moved over to the window and looked out at the courtyard below. She could see lights across the way. The stable apartment where MacDuff stayed? He was as strange as everything else connected to this place, and she didn’t like Trevor’s silence regarding him. She felt tired and disoriented and everything seemed surreal. What the devil was she doing in this place?
What was wrong with her? She knew why she was here and what she was doing. Things had just been moving too fast for her to absorb. Donnell’s death, Trevor’s appearance, and being whisked here to this castle far away from everything familiar had unsettled her.
But she could bring the familiar to her and she would. She crossed to the phone on the bedside table. A few minutes later Eve picked up the phone. Lord, it was good to hear her voice.
“It’s Jane. I’m sorry I didn’t call you right away. We had to travel a good distance from