Gabriel's Horn (20 page)

“Not enough for him to keep from chasing the same painting we were after.”

“I’ve never seen him pursue the painting this hard before. Even though the painting was counterfeit, I’m certain he’s holding something back that we haven’t yet thought of.”

Drake’s face hardened. “I think you’ve turned that old man into your own personal boogeyman.”

“I haven’t.” Salome captured Drake’s chin in her palm and gazed into his eyes. “I haven’t done that. I just know what he’s capable of. And this thing he’s after, it’s important.”

“How do you know that? You’ve never said.”

Salome knew she was going to have to come forward with something. “While I was with Roux—”

“While you were his assistant, you mean.”

Salome nodded. “Exactly. While I was helping him with his studies, I discovered his secret.” There was more, of course, and Drake refused to hear that. An assistant would never have been able to find the things she’d found. It had taken the betrayal of a lover to do that. And she’d betrayed Roux’s trust in her with her youth and beauty that bewitched so many men.

Drake took her hand and kissed her palm. “And what was the old man’s secret, love?”

“He has a secret journal. It’s a catalog of artifacts, talismans of power, that have been lost through the ages. I copied the journal.” Salome shook her head in frustration. “I haven’t managed to translate the whole book. There are too many languages that are unknown to me. And to every expert I’ve been to.”

She’d been careful about that. Any one of those linguists could do the same thing to her that she’d done to Roux. As a general rule, she didn’t even trust the knowledge they locked away in their heads, much less committed to paper. She’d left all of them dead in her wake.

As she told this to Drake, she wondered if it wouldn’t be better to kill him, as well. If things didn’t work out, she knew she’d have to. She couldn’t afford anyone else knowing what she knew. Roux, she was certain, felt the same way about her.

“The painting is a map,” Salome told Drake. Even as she told him that, she knew she was passing a death sentence on to him. She wondered if he knew. She suspected that he did, but from Roux’s hand, not hers. He’d never expect her to harm him. That was the power she had over him.

“A map,” he repeated. “To what?”

“Power,” Salome said. “Possibly the greatest power known to this world.”

“I don’t know what that means.” He showed her a troubled smile.

Salome shook her head, frustrated. “Nor do I. But I know that Roux cares about Annja Creed. You’ve had men watching them. They’ve seen them together.” She took a deep breath. “If we kidnap her, we can force Roux to tell us everything we want to know.”

“What will you do,” Drake asked softly, “if that old man doesn’t care about Annja Creed as much as you think he does?”

Salome looked into his eyes. “Why, I’ll kill her, of course. I want Roux to know that I’m not going to be trifled with.”

Drake grinned. “Have I ever told you how very attractive I find your bloodthirsty side?”

Salome touched his lips. “Many times.” She kissed him just as the preflight boarding for their plane was called. Excitement thrilled through her. It wouldn’t be long before they were in New York.

Then she would find out exactly how much Roux cared about his newest darling.

29

As Annja got out of Bart’s unmarked police car in front of her building, Charlie stood and waved from the steps where he’d been seated. His smile was big and generous, as innocent as a child’s.

“Hey, Annja,” he called. “I’m glad to see those men didn’t get you. I was pretty sure they wouldn’t, but you never know.”

Annja wanted to ask Charlie how he’d gotten away, but there wasn’t time. Agitation rolled off Bart in waves as he threw the car in Park and opened the door.

Wally pushed himself to his feet self-consciously and dusted his thighs off with his palms. He wasn’t one to drink outside and usually confined his beers to watching ball games in his own apartment. He bent down and gathered the empty bottles. There was a considerable number of them and he quickly realized he was going to have to make more than one trip.

Annja also knew the meeting wasn’t going to go well. Bart was out of the car in a heartbeat. His left hand slid around under his trench coat to the back of his belt. When it reappeared, he was holding a set of handcuffs that he kept mostly hidden.

If Charlie saw the cuffs or suspected what was coming, he gave no indication. He just stood on the steps and looked at Annja.

“Bart,” Annja said softly.

“No, Annja.” Bart’s voice was hard and resolute.

“What are you going to do?”

“Arrest him.”

“Isn’t he supposed to do something wrong first?”

Bart ignored her, which was something Annja hadn’t experienced before. Normally Bart was attentive and willing to listen to her.

Annja managed four quick steps and cut him off. She gazed into his eyes. “This is so wrong,” she said softly.

“Annja, please don’t do this.” Bart stared back at her, but his eyes were also on Charlie. “You’re interfering with a police officer in the pursuit of his duty.”

“He’s an old man.”

“He’s a danger,” Bart replied. “To you. And to himself.” His eyes softened a little. “Please let me do my job. There are agencies out there who can help him. For all you know, he walked away from his family to track you down and tell you the world was coming to an end. He could have sons and daughters who are worried out of their minds right now. Grandkids.”

He’s right, Annja admitted to herself. And that was the awful truth of the matter. She didn’t think for a moment that Charlie had set her up with Saladin’s men. But the scenario Bart described was entirely possible.

“Annja,” Bart said quietly.

Reluctantly, she stepped aside and folded her arms across her chest.

Bart went forward. “Turn around. Put your hands behind your back.” His voice was hard, totally cop tone.

“What?” Charlie asked. He stood wavering slightly on the steps. He must have been feeling the beers.

“Sir,” Bart barked, “put your hands behind your back, please.”

“But why? I haven’t done anything.”

Bart moved quickly to step in behind the old man and grab his left arm. He slipped the cuff around Charlie’s left wrist with practiced ease. The metal clicked as it closed.

Annja watched, bereft.

“Let me go,” Charlie cried. “I haven’t done anything.”

Bart put a knee behind the old man’s leg and snapped it forward, buckling Charlie’s leg until he rested awkwardly against the short wrought-iron railing that lined the steps.

“I’m taking you into custody for your own good,” Bart said. “You need to relax. I’m not going to hurt you.” He captured Charlie’s other arm and pulled it behind his back, as well.

“No!” Charlie bellowed. “This isn’t right! I haven’t done anything!”

“Sir,” Bart said. “Please stop. You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Charlie fought, but it didn’t do any good. Bart had size and strength and youth on his side. He kicked the old man’s feet out from under him as gently as he could and forced him to sit on the steps.

“Annja,” Charlie pleaded, staring at her as if he’d been betrayed.

“I’m sorry,” Annja said. She felt the tears burning in her eyes again, but she didn’t let them fall. How had everything gotten so screwed up?

“Annja,” Charlie pleaded again. He struggled against Bart, but Bart sat behind him and kept one hand on the short chain linking the cuffs.

“It’s for your own good,” Annja said, hoping she could make the old man understand.

“No,” Charlie said. “No, it’s not. You can’t let him do this. You
need
me. Annja, you need me! Without me, the world is going to end!”

“No, it’s not,” Annja said. “Everything’s going to be all right.”

Bart talked on his cell phone, and Annja heard enough of the conversation to know that he was calling in someone from psychiatric care.

Wally left the bottles in a stack and came over to stand with Annja.

“I didn’t know anything was wrong,” Wally apologized. “He just came by. Said he wanted to see you. I told him you weren’t here, but he said he’d wait. I figured I’d wait with him. Then I figured we’d wait better with a beer.” He shrugged. “I guess maybe the beers got outta hand a little.”

“Yeah,” Annja said hoarsely. “I guess they did.” As she stood there listening to Wally and watching the heaviness in Bart’s face, she realized that none of them were happy.

* * * *

After fifteen minutes of protesting his innocence and telling Annja that she needed him to stop the world from ending, Charlie fell quiet. He leaned against the railing and stared at her.

It took almost an hour for the psychiatric team to get there. When the ambulance pulled to a stop out in the street, the whirling lights flashed across the neighborhood and drew a few more of the neighbors out of their homes.

Bart used his badge to force most of them to stay back. He’d also suggested that Annja go inside and not hang around.

“I can’t,” Annja said. She stayed outside and waited and watched, and finally got cold enough to shiver.

Wally retreated to his apartment and returned with one of his baseball jackets. It was too big and the sleeves hung past Annja’s fingertips, but it blocked the wind.

The psychiatric team wore heavy jackets over pale blue scrubs. They talked to Charlie calmly and tried to get him onto the gurney by himself. When that didn’t work, they manhandled him. Charlie fought them with all his strength, but in the end he couldn’t prevail. Still, he’d fought them fiercely enough they’d had to medicate him.

When the drugs filled his system and sapped his senses, Charlie became a loose bag of bones. The attendants loaded him onto the gurney with ease, then belted him on across his forehead, chest, hips and knees.

All through the humiliating event, Charlie stared at Annja.

“Could I have a minute?” she asked as they were about to load him into the back of the ambulance.

“We really gotta get going,” a guy with dirty-blond hair and a heavy five-o’clock shadow said.

“Hey, man,” a big black attendant said. “Cut the lady some slack. Her grandpa ain’t doing so good here. This wasn’t any fun for anybody. Give her a minute.”

Annja put her hand over one of Charlie’s. “I want you to get better,” she said.

“I am better,” he croaked in the drug-induced slur. “I’m not supposed to be here. You and I are supposed to stop the sleeping king from destroying the world.”

“The sleeping king,” Annja said confidently, “isn’t here in this world to destroy it. He’s here to save it.”

“Not when he’s lost,” Charlie said. “And he’s lost.”

With a supreme effort, Charlie focused on Annja. “You’ve got to save him.”

“Who?” Annja asked.

“The sleeping king.”

“Who’s the sleeping king?”

The two attendants hefted the gurney, collapsed the legs and shoved it into the back of the waiting ambulance.

“Save the sleeping king,” Charlie said. “He’s been hurt too much for too long to know what he’s doing.”

“Who?” Annja asked. She started to pull herself into the ambulance with the gurney.

The black attendant blocked the way. “Sorry, miss,” he rumbled. “Grandpa’s gotta go. The docs will get him better in no time. You’ll see. We got great docs at Peaceful Meadows.”

Bart stepped behind Annja and wrapped his arms around her. “Annja, come on. Back off. Let them do their jobs.”

“Just give me a minute,” Annja said.

“No. This isn’t going to get any easier.” Bart held tight enough that she knew she’d have had to hurt him to get free.

“Annja,” Charlie called from inside the ambulance.

“I’m here.”

“You’ve got to save the sleeping king.”

The black attendant shut and locked the ambulance doors. He turned to Annja and gave her one final reassuring smile. “He’s gonna be better the next time you see him. You’ll see.”

Stunned, her mind whirling from everything that had been going on, Annja stood helplessly and watched the ambulance drive away.

Bart released her and stepped back. He kept his hands in front of him in case he had to defend himself.

“You gonna be okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Annja answered. She didn’t look at him, and she knew she didn’t sound fine. She didn’t know how she sounded.

She took a deep breath and let it out. More than ever, she wished she had some way of getting hold of Roux and Garin.

“Annja,” Bart said.

She acknowledged him with a brief glance, then quickly looked away. “I don’t really feel like talking right now.”

“Sure.” Bart stuck his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “I get that. I just had to do what I did, you know.”

“I know.”

“He needs help.”

He needs
my
help, Annja thought. She didn’t understand the whole “sleeping king” reference, but she understood that someone was in some kind of trouble.

“They’ll give him help,” Bart was saying. “This clinic is really good. I’ve run street people through there before. They care about them.”

Annja didn’t believe that. When she glanced at Bart, he ducked away from her gaze. He didn’t believe it, either.

He’d acted to protect her. She knew that. But it didn’t make her feel any better.

“I can come up,” Bart offered. “Those guys that came after you are still out there.”

“I know. And no, you can’t come up. I don’t want to deal with that right now.” If Bart came up, Annja knew he’d spend hours justifying his actions to her. He wouldn’t understand that she’d already accepted what he’d done. She just didn’t like it, and that wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

In a day or two—or three—everything would be back to normal between them. She just needed to know that Charlie was being cared for.

“You shouldn’t stay here,” Bart said. “If they found you by your debit card, they can find your address.”

“I know.” Annja turned and headed up the steps.

“You should get a hotel room and get out of here,” Bart said.

“If I check into a hotel, I’ve got to show ID,” Annja said. “They’ll log that.”