Countdown - Iris Johansen [75]
“It’s not cheating you to point out that we now have a common goal.” He added persuasively, “You can’t have any love for those smug sons of bitches in the U.S. Help me bring them down.”
Cheap bastard, Wickman thought with contempt. He’d run across men like Grozak before, who were so caught up in their own hatred that they couldn’t see beyond it. “I’ve no goal other than to collect as much money as I can before I walk away from the business.”
“I’ll be very well funded by our Muslim extremist friends for any future projects if I can pull this off. You can share.”
“I don’t want to share. I want my money up front.”
Grozak was clearly not pleased. “You haven’t finished.”
“Do you want me to hand you Donato’s head? Sorry. It’s at the bottom of a bog near Milan.”
“I don’t care about Donato. What about Trevor?”
“Not until you pay me.”
Grozak scowled and then reached in the top desk drawer and tossed him an envelope. “Half.”
Wickman counted the cash. “You want his head too?”
“Maybe later. I want you to get the woman first. Alive. I need her.”
“Why?”
“That’s none of your concern. All you need to know is that I want the woman alive and Trevor has to be able to talk to me before he dies.”
“About what?”
“He may be able to lead me to something I need.”
Money? Wickman thought. Perhaps. But with fanatics like Grozak it could just as well be a hydrogen bomb. Still, it was something to keep in mind. “It’s more risk for me. Quick and clean is better. I’ll want more money.”
Grozak muttered a curse before nodding. “You’ll get it. Not now. It’s not easy to gather your kind of money together. I’ve thrown everything I have into this project.”
“Get it from Reilly.”
“Reilly’s being very stingy with everything but the manpower.”
Wickman thought about pushing and then decided against it. He had never had a problem squeezing money from his patrons after a job. It always surprised him how quickly they caved when he focused his full attention on them. “I’ll give you a few days.” He dropped down in a chair. “But if you want the woman, you have to give me something to work with. Tell me everything you know about her.”
12
It’s good to have you back,” Bartlett said as he met Jane in the hall the next morning. “I was worried.”
“Brenner was with me. I had to go.”
He nodded solemnly. “So Trevor told me.”
“Have you seen Mario? He isn’t in his room.”
“I understand he’s at the Run with MacDuff. Would you like breakfast?”
“Later,” she said absently as she headed for the door. “I want to talk to Mario.”
It took her ten minutes to go through the gates and around the castle to the Run.
She stopped several yards from the rocks when she saw Mario and MacDuff. They were both stripped to the waist and despite the chill they were gleaming with sweat. As she watched, MacDuff dropped Mario to the ground by sweeping his leg in a round kick.
Mario muttered a curse and struggled to his feet. “Again.”
“You’re not going to have time to learn anything,” MacDuff said grimly. “Except how to fall without hurting yourself. That’s not going to save your life.”
“Again,” Mario said, and lunged toward him.
MacDuff flipped him over his hip and then straddled him. “Give it up. It will take weeks. Use a damn gun.”
“I’m learning.” Mario glared up at him. “I’m learning something with every fall. Again.”
MacDuff muttered another obscenity.
“He’s angry.” Jane turned to see Jock standing behind her. He was frowning as he came toward her, his gaze on the two men. “He could hurt the laird.”
“Mario? It’s not likely.” She watched as MacDuff got off Mario and the boy jumped to his feet. “It’s not MacDuff I’m worried about. Mario’s the one who’s the most vulnerable. He could be—”
She broke off as Mario lowered his head and butted MacDuff in the stomach. MacDuff grunted and fell to his knees, struggling for breath. “Dammit, that’s not anything I showed you. You’re not supposed to— No!”
Jock was behind Mario, his arm around his neck.