Текст книги "26 - Storm Cycle "

Автор книги: Iris Johansen

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Текущая страница: 17 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

The tractor-trailer slowed.

The crunching of gravel gave way to a sloshing sound, and water poured in through the lowest row of vents as the trailer entered the water.

"Shit." Tavak's grip tightened on the tire iron, then turned to the driver's side of the Escalade.

But Allie was ahead of him. She was already slipping underneath the wheel. "Give me that tire iron."

Tavak frowned. "What?"

"We don't have time for arguments. You were going to try to hot-wire this baby. I can do it faster. You and Demanski try to get those doors open. Give me that iron. Now!"

He thrust the tire iron into her hand. She braced herself against the front seat and pried loose the panel beneath the steering column.

Rachel leaned into the open door. "What are you doing?"

"You're blocking my light!"

Rachel stepped back.

Allie grabbed a cluster of wires and examined them. She tore two wires free and stripped the edges with her teeth.

"Can I help?" Water was now sloshing around Rachel's ankles. Allie shook her head, and Rachel turned to see that Tavak and Demanski were now pushing hard on the trailer's rear doors. The large chains held them closed tight.

"Can she do it?" Tavak asked Rachel over his shoulder.

"If she says she can," Rachel said. "She completely rebuilt a Jeep Cherokee when she was seventeen." She was watching Allie, who was moving with the efficiency of a master car thief. Lord, she was scared.

Come on, Allie, she prayed.

The trailer submerged even farther. Water poured in from the higher side vents.

Allie picked up the tire iron, pried apart the starter assembly, and pushed the bar forward.

The Escalade roared to life.

"Get behind me!" Allie yelled as she slipped on the seat belt. "All of you. Get behind the car."

Tavak and Demanski scrambled through the calf-deep water. Demanski yelled, "Let me take the wheel!"

"No time. If the water hits the intake, we're finished!" Allie jerked her thumb back. "Get behind me. Don't argue!"

"Dammit." But Demanski turned and waded back to Tavak and Rachel behind the Escalade.

Allie gunned the engine.

Still more water poured in.

The Escalade's engine roared in Rachel's ears as the vehicle hurtled toward the locked doors.

Boom.

The doors exploded outward, and thousands of gallons of water suddenly filled the compartment. In an instant, all gravity appeared to have been suspended, and Rachel was aware of the Escalade floating in space next to her.

Allie.

Rachel kicked her feet. The still-rushing water made it impossible to move toward the door.

The Escalade's monstrous rear end swung wide, and Rachel realized it might pin her against the trailer's inside wall.

She kicked furiously. Get around it. No, not around. Normal rules didn't apply. Over. Get on top of it.

She pushed upward with her legs, and in a moment found her head above water, almost touching the roof of the trailer.

Allie. Must get to Allie.

Rachel moved over the Escalade's roof and thrust her face back into the water.

She opened her eyes.

Through the Escalade's windshield, there was the deployed airbag and something else. It almost looked like…

Allie's hair.

Shit.

Rachel reached inside the Escalade and struggled to find the seat-belt catch.

Come on, Allie. Help me.

The airbag and the rushing water were fighting her, jabbing and blocking with her every lunge.

Tavak was suddenly back beside her, pushing the airbag down and to one side.

Then a thin, strong hand clasped Rachel's wrist.

Allie. Thank goodness.

The seat belt loosened, and Tavak helped Rachel pull Allie out from behind the airbag.

Allie gave Rachel the thumbs-up sign, and they swam out of the trailer.

They broke the surface seconds later. Tavak came up an instant behind them.

"Thank God!" Demanski was swimming toward them.

"No." Tavak immediately grabbed Rachel. "Swim. Get as far away from here as you can. All of you." He pointed toward the middle of the lake as he gave Rachel a push and motioned for Allie and Demanski to follow her. "Stay as close to the bottom as you can. Only come up when you absolutely need to." Tavak swam back toward the shore.

"Wait." Rachel asked, "Where are you going?" But he'd disappeared beneath the surface, slicing the water with barely a ripple.

There were shouts from the truck, and Rachel spun around to see that Dawson's men were out of the cab. They lifted their rifles and opened fire.

A bullet broke the water not a foot from where Allie was treading water.

"Move!" Rachel yelled.

Rachel, Allie, and Demanski dove to the bottom as more bullets pelted the lake's surface.

SEVENTEEN

On the shore, the kid, Hannigan, turned toward Weitz. "Did we get 'em?"

"No. Keep looking."

Weitz muttered a curse as his gaze searched the waters. Kilcher would tear his ass if any of Tavak's people got away. The old man was already pissed about the casualties in St. Petersburg, and that bastard Dawson didn't seem as if he was one to tolerate failure.

"I don't see anyone. I think we got them," Hannigan said.

Weitz tried to hide his disgust. Why had Kilcher teamed him with this moron? The kid loaded himself with weapons and thought they took the place of brains. "Use your eyes, dammit. Look!"

A woman's head, hair plastered flat, broke the surface about thirty yards away.

Weitz and Hannigan opened fire.

Damn. She was gone again.

"Stay here." Weitz started down the bank at a trot. "Watch the area and see if any of them break the surface. I'll head downstream and see if they pop up there."

Shit. How could this happen? As Weitz ran through the tall grass along the bank, he could imagine what the response to his report to Kilcher would be like. Screaming expletives, humiliation, and possible discharge in front of the team. And maybe, just maybe, after half a bottle of bourbon, Kilcher would give him one more chance.

That kid, Hannigan, wouldn't be so lucky. He'd be out on his ass.

A muffled shout behind him!

Weitz ducked low and whirled with his rifle ready.

Silence.

He retraced his steps, trying his best to move silently in the tall brush.

He stopped just before he reached the clearing that he'd left only seconds before.

Hannigan was lying on his back, beside the cab, eyes open, staring blindly at the sky.

Dead.

Pain.

The gun dropped from Weitz's hands, and an icy shiver shuddered through him.

More pain.

He looked down and saw the kid's black-handled bowie knife sticking out of his own chest.

John Tavak stood beside him, water dripping from his clothes.

Tavak gripped the handle and shoved the knife deeper.

* * *

Tavak jumped onto the cab of the truck and waved an all-clear sign to Rachel, Allie, and Demanski. Satisfied that they had seen him and were swimming back, he leaped into the cab and fished through the canvas bag in which Kilcher had thrown their belongings.

He found his phone and frantically punched Ben's number.

Maybe Dawson was bluffing. He had no reason to go after Ben.

But the tightness in Tavak's stomach told him that the son of a bitch wasn't bluffing. It wasn't his style.

No answer.

Five minutes.

Dawson had said that he'd call to give the order to kill Ben in fifteen minutes. Tavak still had five minutes left.

Demanski was wading out of the water and Tavak called, "Grab your phone out of the cab. This must be a private lake. It's totally deserted. But we don't want to stick around here and wait for Kilcher to come back. Get that security team you mentioned out here double quick and tell them to pick us up at the highway."

Demanski nodded and moved toward the cab.

Three minutes.

He hung up and dialed again.

"Come on, Ben," he muttered. "Pick up. Answer your damned phone."

CAMBRIDGE, ENGLAND

9:16 P.M.

Ben felt the vibrating phone in his pocket, but he decided to let it go to voice mail. He and Nuri were standing in the shadows of a large oak tree, watching a pair of headlights coming toward them on a campus auxiliary road.

"Is that it?" Ben asked.

"The timing is right." Nuri checked his notes. "Dr. Collier left a drive-on pass for a large delivery truck at approximately 10 P.M."

"How did you find that out?"

"I saw the list. I went to the security office and pretended to be an instructor who needed to arrange my own after-hours delivery. They pulled out the list, and they made no attempt to hide it from me."

"And why would they?"

The truck drew closer.

Ben handed Nuri a ballcap and a blue Windbreaker. "Here. These are a pretty good match for the campus security getups. And remember, we're still just fact-finding. Once we determine that the mastaba wall is here on campus, then we'll figure out how to take it."

"As you wish. But there's no way of knowing how long it will be here."

The phone vibrated again. The truck was almost upon them. Ben reached into his pocket and turned off the phone. "Okay, let's move."

Ben and Nuri stepped into the middle of the roadway and waved down the truck. It stopped.

Ben walked around to the driver's side window.

"Open up the back, will you?" Ben spoke in an accent he learned from watching Alec Guinness movies.

The driver glanced at the man in the seat beside him, then turned back. "We've already been cleared up front, mate."

"Sorry. We can't let any trucks through without inspecting them first. Give us a peek inside, and you'll be on your way."

"No problem."

Both men climbed out of the cab and moved around to the back. The driver pulled up the large garage-style cargo door.

Ben turned on his flashlight. "Okay, if there's a crate or packaging, I may have to ask you to… "

Ben shined his flashlight into the truck's storage bed.

It was empty.

Empty, except for the two men with guns aimed at him.

Ben felt the hot, searing pain in his chest and head.

He felt the numbing coldness in his legs and arms.

Then he felt nothing.

* * *

The sun was setting when Demanski's security team dropped them off at the hotel. Allie, Tavak, and Rachel went inside while Demanski stayed behind to settle with the team leader.

Only one day, Rachel thought. Only a matter of hours, and yet it seemed as if a century had passed.

She glanced at Tavak as they got in the elevator. He'd been on the phone frantically trying to reach Ben Leonard or Nuri all the way back from the lake. "You'll let us know as soon as you hear?"

He nodded jerkily. "As soon as I know something." The door opened on his floor, and he got off and headed down the hall.

"What a hell of a day," Allie murmured.

Rachel nodded numbly. "I shouldn't have let you come with me to Russia. I should have made you stay at home. You almost died in that car."

"Knock it off, Rachel. This isn't about me. We all came close to dying." Allie wearily pushed her damp hair back from her face. "If anyone should run the risk, it should be me. I'm the one who has the most to gain."

The hand Allie had used to push back her hair was shaking, Rachel noticed, agonized. The tremors again, more violent than she had recently seen them. "You're not well. I'm coming to your room with you."

"You are not," Allie said. "I don't want you hovering over me. I'll rest, then I'll be okay."

"And what if you're not?"

"I'll be okay," she repeated. "I'll call you when I get over this little bout. You know I'm used to handling it, Rachel."

It wasn't a little bout, and Allie shouldn't have been forced to handle this damn disease. "Let me come."

"No way. You try, and I'll lock you out."

"I'm sending you home."

"No, you aren't. I'm going on until the end. Make up your mind to it. It doesn't matter that I'm sick and sometimes have to take a few minutes' time out to be able to keep going. I helped keep us alive today. I had value." She got off the elevator as the doors opened. "But if you want to stop all this madness, I'll understand."

Rachel shook her head.

"I didn't think so." Allie started down the corridor. "Then we'll just have to work through this."

Work through keeping Allie alive until they found the cure.

Work through death and malice and Dawson, who seemed to be everywhere.

Dear God, she hoped that malice and death hadn't spread to touch Ben Leonard.

* * *

Allie called Rachel a little over an hour later. "The tremors have stopped. I'm much better. I'm going to take a hot shower, then order dinner."

"Do you want company?"

"No, I'm going to give you time to forget about my attack. I'll be much more relaxed eating alone tonight."

"You're sure there aren't any—"

"See? I'm fine, Rachel. Any news from Tavak?"

"Not yet."

"Let me know. Bye."

"Bye." Rachel hung up. Allie had sounded tired but steady, thank heaven. And Allie never lied to her. Rachel knew that she sometimes hid the symptoms of the disease, but she always told her the truth when confronted.

How many times had Allie masked the pain and exhaustion since she had started this journey?

And how much stress could she stand before she ended up in the hospital again?

Or before it killed her?

Allie had been under the ticking clock for years, but today it seemed to be going into overdrive.

She wouldn't quit, and the only thing Rachel could do was to keep racing and try to make that clock stop.

She could do it. She would do it. She just had to smother the fear and forget what a disaster it had been today.

As Allie had said, they could work through this.

It was over two hours later that Tavak knocked on Rachel's door.

* * *

He looked like hell. He had obviously showered and changed, but his face was drawn and tired. "May I come in?"

She opened the door wide for him to enter. "Of course. You've heard something?"

"Ben's dead."

She had been hoping against hope, but she had known the news wouldn't be good from the moment she had seen his expression. "I'm so sorry."

Tavak nodded. "I just talked to Nuri. It was a total setup. Ben and Nuri intercepted a truck that was supposed to deliver a large item to the museum director on campus. As it turns out, the only thing in the truck was Dawson's hit squad."

"How is Nuri?"

"He wasn't hurt, but he's not good. He and Ben had become pretty close. He managed to wing one of them before making his escape." His lips twisted. "He wants my permission to track down the entire squad and take care of them himself."

"And what did you tell him?"

"I told him to go home. This isn't his battle. And Dawson is the one I want."

Rachel watched Tavak as he stared out the window. He was hurting. When she had seen the bodies of the men Tavak had killed at the lake, she had been shocked. It had seemed to come too easily to him. She had known he was a dangerous man, but she had never been brought face-to-face with that cool disregard of life and death.

But he was not disregarding Ben Leonard's death. It was obviously tearing him apart.

"Did Ben have a family?"

Tavak shook his head. "Only a brother who lives in Florida. They were never close. Two ex-wives, neither of whom wanted anything to do with him. He was a Vietnam vet, and I don't think he ever made any strong attachments since the time he was there."

"Except for you."

Tavak shook his head. "Yeah, and all I did was get him killed."

"He knew what he was doing. Even after what happened to him in the tomb in Egypt, he didn't hesitate to do another job for you."

"I paid him well."

"It was more than that, and you know it. You probably helped make him feel alive. I'm sure he felt like he was part of something special."

Tavak managed a smile. "Maybe. He complained a lot, but no one enjoyed the thrill of the chase more than Ben."

"And he wanted to do this."

"I should have made Nuri send him back to that hospital. He would have been safe there." Tavak turned to face her. "Instead, I used him. Just as I used you."

"Bullshit. It was my choice. I insisted on joining you. I practically threatened you."

"Practically?"

"Okay, I doomed you to life in a federal penitentiary if you didn't make me a part of this. The point is, I took my own chances."

He was silent, staring at her. "I can't stop, Rachel. I have to go on. Dawson killed Ben, and I can't let him get away with it."

"I didn't think you'd react any other way."

"But I want you to back off. Leave it to me. A good man died today. We almost died today. I don't want anything to happen to you or your sister."

"Or Demanski?"

"Okay, sure. Even Demanski. I'd have a hard time living with myself."

"Then that's your problem. This isn't a game for Allie or for me. For us, this has always been a matter of life and death. Healthwise, I know Allie's on an up cycle right now."

"I'll say."

"She's not as strong as she seems. She's in her room resting right now. Sometimes she gets sick. Really sick. And every time she hits a rough patch, I never know if it's the one that will finally kill her. I've been feeling that way for years." She shook her head. "So bite the bullet, Tavak. We're in this for the long haul."

He nodded. "I was afraid that you wouldn't let me get away with it." He turned toward the door. "I had to try."

Because he was bleeding inside, Rachel thought.

And she was bleeding for him, she realized. She wanted to touch him, heal him.

"Tavak."

He turned to look at her.

"You come back here."

He didn't move. "Why?"

She went to him instead. "Because you need someone." She put her arms around him. "And maybe I need someone, too."

He still didn't reach out for her. "Is this an invitation?"

"Do you mean sex?" She shook her head. "Sex is about joy. If I have sex with you, I'm going to want skyrockets, not comfort. Now I want to hold you all night and we'll talk about Ben and Allie and all the things that hurt us and give us hope. Skyrockets are wonderful." She looked up at him. "But comfort is good, too."

He slowly reached out and cupped her face in his two hands with incredible tenderness. "Yes, comfort can be very good."

HOUSTON, TEXAS

Finley winced at the shit-kicking country music blaring from the speakers at Saddles, a bar known for its cheap beer, chicken wings, and almost daily fistfights. He glanced around until he spotted Carlos Dobal waving at him from a booth.

Finley walked over and sat down. "This doesn't seem like your kind of place."

"It's not." Dobal had exuded ease and confidence on the golf course a few days before, but he now appeared troubled. "I thought it would be best to go someplace nobody knew either of us. And where it would be relatively easy to spot someone else who didn't belong."

"What's the problem?"

"The problem is yours, my friend." He paused. "I did as you asked and checked with my contacts in the intelligence community. Your campus shooter was a professional."

Finley tilted his head. "A professional?"

"An assassin. Not much is known about him personally." Dobal slid a folded sheaf of papers across the table. "What little I know is here. Gaius Pelham is the name he uses most often, but nothing is known about his true identity or where he came from. But several government intelligence agencies had hired him on occasion."

"What governments?"

Dobal just stared at him.

"Mine?"

"You may wish to adjust the parameters of your investigation."

"You're telling me to back off?"

"If someone wanted to kill Rachel Kirby so much that they would engage Mr. Pelham's ser vices, then wanted to cover their tracks so completely that they would take the risk to murder this professional killer, it seems to me that they would be capable of almost anything."

"Whose payroll had he been on? CIA? NSA?"

"It's not likely he kept a resume. Probably everybody's."

"Shit."

"I debated with myself whether or not I should even tell you. But you have been good to me and my family, and I thought you should decide how you use the information. My recommendation is that you disregard what I have told you."

"I don't think I can do that."

Dobal nodded. "I thought that might be your response. For the moment, then, I ask that you do not attempt to contact me. I really don't want to be a part of your world right now." He smiled sadly. "Good luck to you."

Dobal slid from the booth and walked out of the bar.

MILLENNIUM HOTEL

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

Lord, she was tired.

Allie grimaced as she gazed at her reflection in the bathroom mirror after her shower. She looked as pale and weary as she felt. What could she expect? It wasn't because she was ill. Anyone who had been through what they had today at the lake would be as sapped as she appeared.

Or maybe the illness had added to it, but she had learned to ignore those signs of weakness. As she would do now. She grabbed a towel and started to dry her hair.

"Allie." Demanski was knocking on the door of the suite.

"Coming." She wrapped her hair in the towel and quickly crossed the suite to open the door. "Is there something wrong?" Please, no more deaths. She could still see those two men lying on the bank of the lake. "Have we heard anything more about Ben Leonard and Nuri?"

"No, Tavak said he'd let us know. But I need to talk to you." Demanski strode into the hotel room and slammed the door. "Sit down."

She warily perched on the edge of a chair. "What's wrong?"

"Do you want the short list or the long list?"

"I want you to tell me why you're looking at me as if I was a criminal."

"I don't know how else to look at you. I have to walk a fine line whenever I'm near you."

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong or not?"

His hands clenched into fists. "I was scared shitless when I couldn't find you in the water. I don't like to be scared."

"Who does?"

"This was different."

"Because it was your fear instead of someone else's?"

"Yes. There's nothing wrong with being selfish. I've made a practice of it for years. I felt so damn helpless. I wasn't even the one who got you out of that car."

"You were coming back to help us."

"That's not good enough."

"It's been a long, terrible day. Spit it out. What are you trying to say, Demanski?"

He was silent a moment, then said awkwardly, "I want to be Galahad."

She covered her eyes with her hand. "Oh, God help us."

He dropped to his knees in front of her and jerked her hand down so that he could see her expression. "Don't give me that crap. Do you think I like the idea of playing the fool?"

"Then back off, Demanski."

"I can't do it," he said between his teeth. "I know you don't want to hear it, but I'm not exactly subtle. I have to be up-front with you."

"You're right, I don't want to hear it."

"Tough. Here it is anyway." He looked into her eyes. "I'm not going to say anything stupid. I like you. Hell, I may do a hell of a lot more than like you. You're funny and honest, and I want to be with you. But you keep pushing me away because you think I'm going to pity you. I don't pity you. Why should I? You've got us all beat. Someday, if I see you tired or fading, I'll hurt, and I'll do my damnedest to help you. But not because of pity. I'm too selfish. I'll just want to stop whatever is tearing me apart."

"There's a solution," Allie said unevenly. "You know what it is."

"That's not an option. I decided that when I couldn't find you in that damn water. So I have to find other options."

"Galahad?"

"Hell yes. You haven't seen anything like the Galahad I can be. Give me a chance, and I'll find your damn Holy Grail."

Tough and smart and yet at this moment very vulnerable. She was unbearably touched. "Maybe after you've found it, you'll lose interest."

"Then you'll have to take your chances. You don't want promises. You'll run if I don't move very carefully. So I'm creeping forward at a snail's pace."

"You're too big to creep. You'd look ridiculous."

"Allie?"

"And you'd look ridiculous as a Galahad. It's not your style. Not sophisticated enough."

"Then find me another role. Because I'm going to be around a while."

"Look, I'm having a good period right now. But it gets nasty. I never know when it's going to take me down. I could go blind, become a cripple, have brain damage, and become a vegetable."

"I'm duly warned. You're not scaring me, Allie."

"Dammit. I'm not one of your Hollywood ladies." She pulled the towel off her wet hair. "I don't glitter. Look at me. Sometimes I look pasty as biscuit dough. That's okay with me. I can handle it. I know what I am inside."

"I like biscuit dough."

"Demanski."

"And I know what you are inside, too," he said quietly. "And you do glitter."

She stared at him helplessly. He meant what he was saying, and it was hard not to let those words sway her.

She should tell him no. She didn't need a man like Demanski disturbing the tempo of her life. She had a difficult enough time riding the ups and downs that comprised her days.

But she didn't want him to go away. When she was with him, she forgot everything but the moment. Moments were important.

She said slowly, "I suppose we could try to see how it goes."

He smiled. "I suppose we could."

"And I'll never question you if you decide to walk away."

"That's very good of you," he said solemnly. "I'll keep it in mind." He sat back on his heels, gazing up at her. "Don't feel uncomfortable. We didn't commit. We just clarified." He got to his feet. "And now I'm going to find a way to prove that you're wrong about my Galahad capabilities. I don't blame you for doubting since I've not done anything impressive since I left Las Vegas. I'll have to remedy that." His brow was furrowed with concentration as he pulled a sheaf of papers out of his jacket and moved toward the computer on the desk. "Call room ser vice and order dinner, will you?"

RURAL HALL, NORTH CAROLINA

10:40 P.M.

"There was a problem," Kilcher said when Dawson picked up the phone. "Tavak and the others are still alive. I lost two men. When Weitz didn't call me to tell me that he'd completed his mission, I drove back to check."

"You idiot." Dawson's hand tightened on the phone. "What kind of blunderers did you send out with Tavak?"

"I'm not an idiot," Kilcher said. "I don't take that from you or anyone. It happened. I'll either reimburse you or work another job for you. What do you want from me?"

"I want you to erase all signs of what happened at that lake. Then I want you out of my life. And you'll damn well reimburse me." Dawson hung up the phone.

He should have handled Tavak himself. The perfect opportunity, and Kilcher had blown it. Okay, keep calm. He'd have another chance at Tavak. Right now he had to concentrate on getting that mastaba wall decoded.

He sat in the back of the company Jeep, trying to steel himself for the even greater bumps and jostling he knew were coming. It was a Jeep because no other vehicle had a chance of negotiating the hilly terrain between the tiny airstrip and Mills Pharmaceuticals' secret research center in the North Carolina mountains. It had begun to rain, and the vehicle was sliding over for what passed for a road.

Damn John Tavak. It was all very well to tell himself to forget the bastard for the time being, but he was having trouble doing it.

Screw Theodore Mills and his squeamishness. Dawson should have let Kilcher do it his way. A quick burst of gunfire would have settled matters once and for all. Add ten gallons of a high-temperature liquid-combustion agent, and Tavak's merry band would now be little more than scorch marks on the face of the earth.

Next time.

The Jeep rolled to a stop outside the complex, which had been constructed for Mills Pharmaceuticals' most sensitive and important research projects. At any given time, there might be thirty to fifty researchers living on-site, totally isolated from the outside world. In the interest of security, cell-phone frequencies were jammed, and all other personal telephone conversations were monitored and transcribed. The scientists were well compensated for their inconvenience, but Dawson couldn't imagine living that way.

He climbed out of the Jeep and ran through the now-pounding rain to the entrance. He paused at a retina scanner, and within seconds, the doors slid open.

Dawson made his way to a lab at the back of the complex, and after yet another retina scan, the doors opened to reveal the Hermitage mastaba wall on a tall platform, illuminated by high-wattage lights from every direction. The walls were covered by life-size photographic blowups of the three other carved walls, and several large computer monitors were placed under each.

Dr. James Wiley stepped down from the platform and pulled off a pair of green-framed magnifying goggles. "Good evening, Mr. Dawson."

"Any progress?"

"Mostly just getting a lay of the land. Imagine my surprise when I walked in here and was shown this." He motioned toward the stone wall. "You didn't tell me I would be dealing with stolen property."

"Really, aren't all these kinds of artifacts stolen? I'm sure this nobleman didn't intend for his monument to be carted away and sold to a Russian museum."

Wiley smiled. "There's a certain logic to that argument. But this is a much bigger job than I originally thought. Your original offer, while generous, doesn't really compensate me for the sheer scope of the project."

Dawson pursed his lips. "What do you want?"

"Five hundred thousand should cover it."

Dawson stepped toward him. "You wouldn't be trying to blackmail me, would you, Professor?"

Wiley's gaze shifted hurriedly away. "No. Of course not. I just think—"

"Good. We'll discuss your total compensation when you give me results. What have you found out?"

"Well, I've been retracing your steps, seeing how you put together the pieces of the puzzle. Each piece gives you a heavily coded section that details a portion of Peseshet's cure, then a somewhat simpler section that leads us to the next piece."

"Correct."

Wiley turned to the message in flames from Hearst Castle. "Here's the third part of our puzzle, but there are only a few characters that are legible in any of the photographs here. What I don't understand is how this led you to the Nimaatra exhibit at the Hermitage. It's obviously the next piece, but what took you from 'C' to 'D'? There's nothing here that tells me that."

Dawson should have known that Wiley would painstakingly go through every bit of the process. "You don't have to know that. I certainly have no intention of telling you. Perhaps you should realize that I have sources other than you that I can tap. Now what progress are you making on the cure itself?"

Wiley shook his head. "I haven't been able to make any headway on that yet. It's like no code I've ever seen." He gestured toward the Hermitage exhibit. "I'll focus my energies on this to find the final piece. Once we gather all the pieces, maybe it will make more sense."