Smoke and Mirrors (15 page)

And her dream of the children last night could have been of any kids, their situation, in some dark, hazy attic with blaring music vibrating the bare wooden floor boards only inspired by Rodion and Anna’s story.

Her father said, “Will you come and see me again before you go?”

“Probably not,” she replied distractedly.

His gaze fell. “No,” he agreed.

Without thought, she reached across the table and clasped his hand. “I mean, I might leave quite suddenly on the first available flight. But I’ll come and see you when I get home.”

His hand didn’t move under hers for a moment; then he turned his fingers to squeeze hers back. It was enough. But somewhere in the last week or so, Nell had found a new awareness, a new understanding, of herself as well as others, and she refused to be so mean-spirited as to leave it there after all this time.

With difficulty, she said, “I couldn’t see past my own pain. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry for adding to it,” he said, low. He wasn’t a great man for talking about feelings. He never had been.

“Likewise,” she said ruefully. She gave his hand a last squeeze, then tugged her own free. “But yes, it was a bloody stupid idea. I’ll let you know how mine pans out.”

****

In Deacon Brodie’s tavern on the Royal Mile, Nell found herself observing the staff, wondering which of the two barmaids Rodion had asked out.

“Remind me why we’re drinking here?” her friend Jen drawled beside her. “We never drink here.”

“
That
‘s why we’re drinking here. I need a change of scene.”

“I’ll buy Deacon Brodie’s as a change of scene,” Jen allowed. “But some distant, isolated ex-Soviet republic where they still murder their political opponents and can’t feed their own people—there, I draw the line.”

“I’m not standing for election,” Nell said dryly. “I’m not even going to feed the people—although it would be a worthy cause if I knew how to go about it. I’m going to see my family on my mother’s side, maybe even research a new book if I’m inspired while I’m there.”

“You don’t need more family,” Jen said firmly. “You need friends. And more drink,” she added, standing up. “Same again?”

Nell lifted her glass in salute and watched Jen make her way over to the bar. Experimenting, as she sometimes did now, she let down her guard and really looked at Jen. Her aura shimmered—a deep, calming lilac that made Nell smile. The barmaid who served her right away was young and pretty and had friendly, open eyes. Nell bet she was the one Rodion had asked out. Not that it mattered, since he’d only done it for an alibi. It was pointless to feel this stupid, churning—she refused to call it jealousy—every time she looked at either of the bar staff. She closed her eyes, forcing back the awareness of auras she still wasn’t ready to recognise, and when she opened them, looked up at the decorative, rather beautiful ceiling.

What if Rodion wandered in to make good his promise to the girl? Would he still arrange to meet her? Or would he catch sight of Nell, forget instantly about all other, better-looking women, and come straight to her and kiss her… Her lips tingled in memory.

He might be dead. He might be anywhere in the world. He might be in Zavrekestan.

Jen slid back in beside her and pushed a glass of whisky toward her. “Is this all about Gordon?” she asked abruptly.

She nearly said,
Gordon who?
with genuine bafflement before she remembered. She could only shake her head.

“I just wondered,” Jen pursued with her usual bluntness. “Because you always take these things hard.”

“What, men dumping me? Like most things, it gets easier with practice. Cheers.”

“He asked you to marry him, for fuck’s sake!”

“But at least I never said yes.” Nell laid down her glass. “I should never have been with Gordon.”

“No,” Jen agreed. “He was an arse.”

“I don’t think he was.” Loyalty seemed to die hard. “But I still shouldn’t have ever gone out with him.”

“Why did you?”

Nell shrugged, played with her glass like Rodion with the cigarette he never smoked, and forced her fingers to be still. “I don’t know. I was flattered, I suppose. And a bit lonely and fed up. But I should never have done it. I didn’t love him.” She picked up her glass and took a sizable gulp. “Hell, I didn’t even fancy him much.” It was as close as she could get to admitting that she’d had to work up to touching him, to letting him touch her. If she was taken by surprise, it always felt wrong. Except with Rodion. Whenever
he
touched her, it was electric, so overwhelming there was no time to prepare herself. With him, there had never been a question of “enduring.” She wondered what Jen would make of that in her professional capacity.

“Bad sex,” Jen said seriously, “equals bad relationship.”

“And good sex a good relationship?” Nell asked with a faintly mocking smile.

“Hell, I wouldn’t go that far, but I suppose it helps you put up with all the shit. You need a sex god, my dear. Someone to take your mind off things. And you won’t find him in Zavrek-fucking-stan.”

“Where will I find him, then?” Nell asked lightly.

“If I knew that, I’d be in line before you. But I can help you look. Describe to me the best sex you’ve ever had.”

“I most certainly will not!”

“I meant the man who gave you it, idiot. I wouldn’t ask you for the lurid details before at least two more drinks.”

Nell twisted her glass in her fingers again. “Tall, blond, and tattooed,” she said. “Strength. Muscle. Abs to die for. Cheekbones to die
by
—we are talking
sharp
. Clever, funny, one step from insane. Criminal. Totally untrustworthy.”

But this was Jen she was talking to. Jen had nursed her through her first serious love affair at university—in fact, her only serious affair before Gordon, and that was only “serious” because neither of them had noticed they shouldn’t be together. Jen was shrewd and caring and was, to boot, a qualified psychologist.

“Nell,” she breathed. “Where did you meet this sexy bad-boy paragon?”

Nell pulled herself together. “In a police station. It was the translation job I was telling you about. Every randy girl’s fantasy. If you ignore the criminality and the insanity.”

“A girl can dream,” Jen allowed. A moment longer, her uncomfortable gaze scanned Nell’s face; then she grinned. “You know, I’m actually relieved. It crossed my mind more than once that you’re not really into sex. Or physical intimacy of any kind.”

Nell flushed. She’d had the same concerns, once. Before Rodion.

“In fact,” Jen pursued, sipping from her glass, “I wondered if you were a victim of abuse.”

Nell’s mouth fell open. “No,” she managed in a strangled voice. “Absolutely not.”

“No. I gave that theory up in favour of a new one.”

“I’m not even going to ask.” Nell grabbed up her glass and gulped, welcoming the burn of the whisky in her throat.

“You don’t need to ask,” Jen drawled. “I’m going to tell you anyway. I think you were always just with the wrong man. For most of us, we can cope with that—got to kiss a few frogs, even screw them senseless from time to time. You’re just pickier and didn’t know it.”

Rodion. She stared blindly into her glass. The only man with whom it had ever been right.

“You want my advice?” Jen said gently.

“No. Go and psychoanalyze someone else.”

“Listen to your body. If it’s saying ‘no,’ it’s probably right.”

It was all part of her. The auras, the dreams, the feelings that came with touch. They were like extra senses. Her gift. And Jen had hit the nail on the head without even knowing all the facts.

Nell set down her glass and cast a quizzical half-smile at her friend. “And if my body’s saying yes to someone…unsuitable?”

“I’d say go for it, but the criminality and the insanity have me worried. One day, there’ll be a decent man to whom your body says ‘hell, yes.’ Don’t waste your time on the rest.” Jen sat back and gazed around the clientele. “So, a tall blond man with tattoos… What about
him
?”

Nell’s gaze flew to the bar, where a fair man in a rugby shirt was leaning over the counter, shouting his long order to the barmaid. Her lurching heart righted itself painfully.

She sighed. “Too loud. Too pissed. Too short in the hair and the neck.”

“See? Picky, picky, picky.”

****

After avoiding several of his minions’ calls and visits, Nell finally let herself be brought in to Derryn’s office and subjected to interrogation about Rodion and his entourage. Derryn asked all the questions, and a young woman in a power suit and earphones tapped away at a computer. Nell suspected she was being recorded, and by people who were experts in spotting lies and half-truths and betraying emotions.

But she’d just spent two days solid in the company of Rodion Kosar— she knew a bit about those things too.

“Did you ever see any of Kosar’s incendiary devices?” Derryn asked.

She shook her head. “No.” She looked up from her hands. “To be honest, I don’t believe he used any.”

“And yet he admitted burning the warehouse. And you saw the car pursuing you set on fire.”

She took a deep breath. “He says it’s a mind-power thing.”
And you know that, don’t you, you lying git?

Derryn’s face remained expressionless. “And how does that work, exactly?”

“Exactly? I haven’t the foggiest idea. He looks at things, and they go on fire. If he wants them to.”

“Fascinating,” Derryn said. “And how did he come by this power? Did he always have it?”

“He says so.” She hesitated, but on the whole, she rather thought Derryn knew this too. “Apparently, the village he was born in is full of psychics and others with supernatural abilities. But they prefer to keep it quiet and hide what they can do. Rodion, on the other hand, seems to use his power all the time for one reason or another.”

“It makes him a dangerous man.” Derryn took off his glasses and polished them. It could have been a throwaway remark, but it made Nell’s heart beat faster. It
makes
him a dangerous man; not
made
. Derryn was still looking for him.

Elimination or alliance. Could she really influence that?

“Is that why you’re interested in him?” she asked, genuinely wanting to know. “Do you want him to disappear? Or work for you?”

Derryn replaced his spectacles, which glinted at her. “Either would do.”

She looked at her hands, then back up to his face. “I’ll be honest with you, Mr. Derryn. I like the money you pay. I
need
it if I’m going to avoid having to get a real nine-to-five job. And it struck me over the past few days that I could help you.”

She let herself give a slightly twisted, deprecating smile. “Actually, that’s why I’ve been avoiding you. Trying to work out if it’s the right thing to do.”

“If what is?”

“Getting myself involved in this stuff again. If Rodion Kosar’s alive, I think I can find him for you and explain the benefits of—er—allegiance to Britain.”

Derryn’s eyes never blinked, but she had the impression she’d surprised him. That felt good. “You’re very kind,” he said politely. “But I have much more qualified field agents at my disposal.”

“Actually, I don’t think you have.” Nell threaded her fingers together in her lap before she went on as precisely as she could. “Not for this. I formed a—connection with Kosar.”

“What sort of connection.”

“The sort I’m prepared to bet none of your field agents has. He’d lose them before they got within a thousand yards.”

“That is perfectly possible,” Derryn admitted, “but I fail to see how you could do any better.”

She took a deep breath. “That’s because you fail to take my heritage into account.”

Now Derryn definitely frowned. Even the woman at the computer stilled her hands on the keys and cast a surreptitious glance across the room. “What heritage?” Derryn asked deliberately.

“My mother’s. I don’t just speak her language. Members of her family have prophetic dreams. I have them too. And I’ve dreamed of Kosar’s brother and sister. I can help him, and he’ll use that. You can too.”

She had no idea if he believed in her dreams or if he thought her deluded. The beauty of this plan was, it didn’t matter. As long as he believed that Rodion would believe. She watched the knowledge cross his face, almost saw the turning of the busy little wheels in his brain.

“The children in return for his help,” Derryn said wonderingly, a smile beginning to form on his face. “Much more useful than taking him out.”

She blinked. “Yes, but that wasn’t quite what I meant. It needn’t be conditional. I’m sure he’d do the odd job from gratitude.”

“On the contrary, it
has
to be conditional or we have no hold over him.”

She leaned forward, glaring. “But that makes us no better than the Bear, using the children’s safety to blackmail him!”

“I think he’ll find it considerably better. We won’t imprison them; we’ll free them.”

She dropped her gaze, wrestling with that one. But she had to agree to it. Derryn didn’t have to know she wouldn’t work toward it. Any more than he had to know the real reason behind her offer to work for him in the first place.

“All right,” she agreed reluctantly. “Fair enough. But you have to keep the rest of your people away from him until we’ve found the children. Otherwise, he’ll smell a rat, and he won’t risk using me, whatever I can see. We’ll lose the children
and
Kosar.”

Derryn looked at her for a long time. Then: “I wonder if you’d consider coming in for some tests, Miss Black? We might even discuss employing you full time—if the tests work out.”

“No chance, Mr. Derryn.” She stood up. “I just told you I don’t want a full-time job. Mull my idea over, if you like. But I’ve booked myself on a flight to Zavrekestan on Friday anyhow—going to see my uncle.”

“I’ll be in touch,” Derryn said neutrally. But his spectacles shone, and as Nell turned away, she knew she had him. She’d just bought Rodion some time, at least from being hunted by the British and their allies. If he was still alive.

If he was still alive…

****

There had always been an inn here, in one guise or another. Throughout the centuries, it had varied from little more than a tavern to a motel in the American model. Today it was a slightly dilapidated mixture of ugly concrete outhouses and an old wooden-built pub with a few ill-appointed rooms above.