Everlasting (16 page)

“I don't think so. I'd bet your brother Lance would say his little sister had definitely ‘set.’ ” He suddenly crushed her in his arms and kissed her with a hard, bruising passion that robbed her of breath and made her head whirl. He lifted his head and glared down at her fiercely. “Be careful, dammit. And stay away from Karpathan!”

“I will,” she promised a little dazedly.

Then he lifted her into the helicopter and closed the door behind her. She watched him step back beside Paulo as she turned on the ignition. Zack looked strong and powerful and able to take on the world, and, for an instant, she was almost tempted to let him come with her. It would be very comforting to lean on his strength. Oh, Lord, she was doing it again. It was clearly going to take practice to get her thinking into the right groove; she wouldn't lean on anyone. Not anymore. She waved and lifted off. Soon the figures in the clearing had vanished from view and only the light of the lantern Marna was holding remained visible. Then, as she turned south, the light, too, disappeared.

“I didn't think you would let her go,” Paulo said with a sidewise glance at Zack's tense, set face. “Until the very last minute I thought you'd change your mind and either make her stay or go with her.”

“A time to set free.” Zack's eyes were still on
the horizon where the lights from the helicopter had just vanished. “It was time to set her free to be her own person.”

Paulo nodded slowly. “It was a wise move. Now she'll return to you and be your person as well.”

“Dear Lord, I hope so.” Zack suddenly realized his hands were clenched. He carefully relaxed them. He needed patience and control now more than at any time in his life, and he had to concentrate on gathering those forces to him. It had nearly ripped him apart to stand and watch her take off in the helicopter. She had looked so damned
alone
. “Let's go back to the
saldana
. I told Perry to contact my men in Belajo by radio to be on the lookout for her. I want to see if they've heard any more from the palace.” He glanced around. “Where's Marna?”

Paulo shrugged as he fell into step with Zack. “She probably wanted to be alone. She does not like this.”

“Who the hell does?” Zack growled. “It's tearing my guts out. The only thing giving me any comfort at all is that I know, as autocratic as
Stefan may be, he's not likely to imprison his own sister.”

“You would have to argue with Marna there,” Paulo said dryly. “She thinks he's capable of every stupid action imaginable.”

“You're not very reassuring.”

“Realities must be faced.” Paulo's eyes narrowed speculatively on Zack's face. “What would you do if he did decide to do that?”

“I'd go in and get her,” Zack said grimly. “And on the way I'd flex enough economic muscle to topple King Stefan from his throne. Then I'd make sure that Marna didn't have to put a curse on Stefan's
nudocs
. I'd rip them off myself.”

Paulo laughed softly. “Well, it's nice to know you have an alternative plan. I do like a man who thinks ahead.” They had arrived at the
saldana
, and Paulo paused by the fire to clap him on the shoulder. “We didn't finish that bottle the other night. Shall we try again? I think you have more to forget tonight than you did then.”

“There may be a problem, Zack.” Perry Bentley had emerged from the caravan and was climbing
down to the ground. “There's something funny going on in Belajo.”

Zack became very still. “What do you mean ‘funny’?”

Perry shifted his shoulders uneasily, “You know Fontaine hasn't been able to get any word from his people in the palace. Well, he sent a few men to nose around to see what they could find out.” He hesitated. “Something weird is happening there. No one goes in. No one goes out. And there's a cordon of soldiers around the palace. Not palace guards, regular soldiers.”

Zack muttered a violent curse. “A coup?”

Perry shook his head. “I don't know. Maybe.”

“Not a coup,” Paulo said slowly. “A revolution, I think.”

Zack glanced at him sharply. “You know something?”

“It fits together. That strange new prey I mentioned moving around in the hills? Bands of men.
Large
bands of men.”

“Guerillas,” Zack muttered. “Damn, why did you keep all this to yourself?”

“They left me alone. I left them alone.” Paulo
shrugged. “I did liberate a few of their weapons. They are in my wagon at the encampment if you'd like to see them. They are very high powered.” He paused. “And Russian-made.”

“Get them,” Zack said tersely. “We may need them.”

Paulo's wide smile shone with feral pleasure. “We are going hunting?”

“We're going hunting,” Zack confirmed grimly. “Perry, radio Fontaine and tell him to get together enough men for a small force and meet us in the woods south of the main gate. But before you do that, try to raise Kira on the helicopter radio and warn her.” He looked at his wristwatch. “I doubt if you'll be able to do it. She should have landed a few minutes ago. Try anyway.”

“Right.” Perry jumped up to the wagon seat and disappeared into the caravan.

Paulo raised his brows. “So much for setting the little one free.”

“I set her free to walk right into a damn revolution.” Zack's voice held an edge of agonized desperation. “I should have gone with her. God knows what she's going to run into once she reaches the
palace.” He turned with barely concealed violence. “Get those weapons. I'll meet you at Perry's helicopter.”

The soldier's hands were rough as he pushed her into Stefan's library. Kira's eyes were shooting sparks and she murmured something a trifle off-color as she watched the door swing shut behind him. “Stefan, what's going on here? There are soldiers all over the palace and that idiot was actually rough as hell with—” She broke off as the tall, shadowy figure stepped out of the dimness by the bookshelves into the shallow pool of light formed by the desk lamp. “Sandor! I told that soldier I wanted to see Stefan.”

“So he told me,” Karpathan said wearily. “Kira, what the devil are you doing back here? I thought you'd be out of the country by now.” He dropped down into Stefan's oversized executive chair. “And how did you get in without coming through the main gate?”

“That's none of your business, Sandor. Where is my brother? I came to see Stefan.”

“Stefan is safe. Which is more than I can say for you. Everyone in the palace must know you've returned by now.”

“Safe? Why shouldn't I be safe? This is all very irregular, Sandor.”

“Revolution has a way of being irregular,” Karpathan said dryly.

“Revol—” Kira's eyes widened in shock. She felt a wave of panic wash over her. “Where is Stefan?”

“That's what we'd like to know,” a deep baritone voice said from behind her. “He's been most elusive, hasn't he, Sandor?”

She turned to face the short, bull-chested man who had entered the library. There was no question of not recognizing him. That strong, deeply grooved face was completely unforgettable. “Naldona!”

He smiled a trifle unpleasantly. “I don't believe we were introduced at that meeting two years ago, but I recognize you as well. Your photograph caused me a good deal of trouble, Your Highness.”

“It merely escalated your plans,” Karpathan said smoothly as he rose to his feet. “It may even have helped your cause by creating a martyr image.”

Marc Naldona strolled forward to stand beside Karpathan. “It's very difficult to remember that, when I recall how uncomfortable I was hiding in the hills those first few weeks.”

“I didn't mean to hurt you,” Kira whispered. “I only wanted to help. I admired you very much, Mr. Naldona.”

“Well, it's fortunate that I'm going to be able to give you the opportunity to make amends.” His smile was hard and slightly menacing, “We're going to make good use of you.”

Kira shivered. The whole episode was wildly unbelievable and everything was topsy-turvy. Nothing was as she had thought it was. Even the two men facing her appeared to have changed places in some subtle manner. Naldona, whom she had only seen in rough work clothes and who had always seemed totally of the earth and the people, was faultlessly dressed in an expensive-looking, dark blue business suit. Karpathan, on the other hand, had shed his fastidious elegance and was dressed with utmost simplicity in black jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt. It should have detracted from his forceful presence but somehow only
served to magnify it. That force was charging the room with electricity at the moment. There was an air of antagonism between the two men that was nearly tangible. She felt as if she had been thrown into a cage with two rogue tigers and couldn't be sure if they were going to rend her or each other.

She lifted her chin. “I object to being used by anyone, Mr. Naldona. I think you'll find it's more bother than it's worth to try to force me to do anything.”

“You're very brave,” Naldona said silkily. “Perhaps you think that because your brother indulged your little pranks, we will do the same? We will use you as we please. I think a princess might do as well as a king under the circumstances, don't you, Sandor?”

“You know what I think,” Karpathan said curtly. “It's the height of madness. You can't get away with that kind of barbarism today. We're not in czarist Russia and she's not a Romanov.”

“But an example
is
needed to make the world take us seriously.” Naldona's dark eyes were burning feverishly in his hollow-cheeked face.

“That was Idi Amin's philosophy and I can't
see that he earned any great amount of respect or admiration,” Karpathan said dryly. “Butchery seldom earns you anything but an eventual one-way ticket out of power.”

Butchery. Romanovs. Kira felt the blood freeze in her veins. They were talking about assassination. “Murder,” she whispered.

“Justice,” Naldona corrected.

She shook her head. “Stefan may have been guilty of oppression and of allowing certain inequities, but he wasn't a murderer.”

“Autocrats like your brother murder hope and initiative among the people,” Naldona snapped. “It can amount to the same thing.”

“An action like the one you're contemplating would foster sympathy and support for Stefan from countries outside Tamrovia,” Karpathan said. “We don't want that.”

“Not if it's handled correctly.” Naldona shrugged. “A mob is the easiest thing in the world to arouse if one knows how to go about it. Then we'd only be guilty of not being able to protect her from the righteous wrath of the people.”

“No,” Karpathan said flatly.

Kira felt a surge of relief that made her knees weak.

Naldona's eyes narrowed on Karpathan's face. “You forget you're no longer in control here, Sandor. You've proved very helpful, but don't push me.”

Karpathan's expression was inscrutable as he met Naldona's gaze. Then he glanced away. “It's not worth quarreling about. Do as you wish.”

Murder her he meant, Kira thought with sick horror. So casual. Her death wasn't worth bothering about. “You're both monsters.”

Naldona's smile was almost cheerful. “It's all in the perspective. To some, we'll be known as the saviors of our country.” He started across the room toward the door. “She'll have to be transferred from the palace to a more accessible spot. It mustn't look as if we have any direct connection with this. It will just be a spontaneous outpouring of national feeling. I'll call the guard.”

“You do that,” Karpathan murmured lazily. He was moving around the desk toward Naldona with the swift, silent stealth of a panther.

“I'm glad you're being reasonable,” Naldona
was saying as he reached for the knob of the door. “We have to stand together on all things, Sandor. Once you've thought about it, I'm sure—”

Karpathan's karate chop to the back of Naldona's neck dropped him like a stone. Kira watched numbly as he fell heavily to the Aubusson carpet. It was no more astounding than anything else that had happened since she had opened the door of her suite to find the hall crowded with soldiers.

“Don't just stand there,” Karpathan said harshly as he took her elbow and pushed her toward the door. “He's not dead and he won't be unconscious indefinitely. Do you like the idea of being torn apart by a mob? Naldona has the rhetorical skill of a fallen angel, if you remember.”

“I remember.” She shook her head to clear it. “But why should I trust you any more than I do him? It's clear you're in this plot as deeply as your friend here.”

“He's not my friend. There was a time when I thought he might become one, but…” Karpathan shrugged. “Water under the bridge. He doesn't want the same things I do for Tamrovia and we've
come to a parting of the ways. I assure you that you're far safer with me than with him.”

“Really? You played Judas to Stefan, and I haven't the slightest doubt you masterminded this revolution.”

He bowed mockingly. “Thank you for your faith in my intellectual capability. I did mastermind it, as a matter of fact.” His glance was suddenly razor sharp. “As for playing Judas, I'd do it again if I thought it was necessary. I did think there was a chance I'd be able to manipulate Stefan into effecting radical enough changes so that all this might not have had to become a reality. Unfortunately, it was taking too long for Naldona to tolerate.” His face became somber. “Naldona's not the man I thought he was. If I let him take control now, it would mean a reign of terror.”

“Why would he want—”

“Look, we don't have time for this. I'd very much like to get you out of here with your skin intact, but unless we hurry, it might not be possible.” His eyes glittered fiercely. “Yes, I'm a revolutionary and I'm going to do everything in my power to
make this country a republic. However, I'm neither a warmonger nor a Marxist, and Naldona is both, as I've only recently discovered.” As he met her still suspicious gaze the fierceness faded and weariness replaced it. “Kira, I like you. I've always liked you. I've even tried to help you whenever possible. Who do you think persuaded Stefan to give Marna quarters in the palace instead of imprisoning her?”

“Yet you were going to have her transferred to the prison. Stefan told me you'd convinced him to do it, the night we escaped.”