Twice Dead (31 page)

“No matter how he finally managed to find out who she was,” Adam said, “he did find out and then he set up this elaborate scheme.”

“Krimakov was always so straightforward,” Thomas said, “back then. No deep, murky games for him.” Then he sighed. “People change. It's frightening in this case. He's taken more turns than a byzantine maze.”

Hatch, a bit of mozzarella cheese clinging to his chin, rose and said, “I'm going to go out and see what our guys are doing. They were eating their way through three large pizzas the last time I saw them.” His pepperoni pizza box was empty, not even a cold thread of cheese left.

“If you smoke out there, Hatch, I'll smell it on you and I'll fire you. I don't care what you've found out, your butt's on the line here.”

“No, Adam, I swear I won't smoke.” Then Hatch sighed and sat down again.

Adam, satisfied, turned to Becca. “As for you, Becca, eat. Here's my last piece of pizza. I even left three olives on it. I didn't want to, but I looked at your skinny little neck and restrained myself. Eat.”

She took the pizza slice and sat there holding it, even as the cheese cooled and hardened. She picked off an olive.

Savich said, smiling at everyone, perhaps preening a bit, “Oh, yeah, I've got something that's not supposition. MAX found Krimakov's apartment. It's a small place in Iráklion. Mr. Woodhouse knows about it. He's sent agents in.”

Everyone stared at him a moment, gape-mouthed.

Savich laughed. He was still laughing when the phone rang minutes later. “That's on my public line,” Thomas said as he rose. “The tape recorder will automatically kick on and will tell me who's calling.” He saw Becca blink and smiled. “Habit,” he said as he picked up the phone.

He didn't say a word, but stood there, listening. He was pale as death when he nodded and said to the person on the other end of the line, “Thank you for calling.” Becca jumped to her feet to go to him. He held up a hand and said in a very low, contained voice, “The two agents guarding Becca's room are dead. Agent Marlane is dead. The agent posing as me is dead, shot through the head, three times. I shot Krimakov's wife through the head,” he added unemotionally. “The security cameras are smashed. There's pandemonium at the hospital. He got away.”

TWENTY-THREE

Adam came into Becca's bedroom just after midnight to see her sitting up in bed, her arms wrapped around her knees, staring blankly at the wall. A single lamp was turned on. In the dim light he could see she was pale, her face strained. She looked over at him and said, guilt weighing heavy in her voice, “I still can't believe it, Adam. Four people dead and it's because of me.”

He quietly closed the bedroom door and leaned back against it, his arms crossed over his chest. Her feelings weren't unexpected but it still made him angry. “Don't be a fool, Becca. I'm the one who carries most of the blame because it was my plan in the first place. What no one can figure out is how he managed to walk right up to the guards outside the room, close enough to see the color of their eyes, and shoot them. Of course he used a silencer. Then he waltzes into the hospital room and kills the other two agents before they can react. To top it all off, he shoots out the security camera. And poof—he's gone, escaped, and no one can figure it out.

“Everyone knew he was coming, it was a trap, contingencies all covered, and sure enough he walked right into it, only it didn't stop him. We lost. Whatever his disguise, it must have been something. Four people are dead.” He snapped his fingers. “Just like that, they're gone. How did he do it? What did he look like to make them lower their guard?”

She shook her head numbly. “Tellie Hawley still doesn't know anything?”

Adam shook his head. “They've been studying all the security cameras all over the hospital, and they've spotted some men who might be possibles. I told him that didn't make sense. Track down the little old ladies, track the folk on the cameras who no one in his right mind would take for Krimakov.” He moved away from the door and walked to the side of her bed. He leaned over and lightly touched his fingers to her cheek. “I came to check on you. I imagined you would be blaming yourself, and I was right. Stop it, Becca. It was a good plan, a solid plan. Any fault for its failure comes right to my door, not yours.”

She turned her face into the palm of his hand. She whispered against his skin, “He doesn't seem human, does he?”

“Oh, he's human enough. I want him very badly, Becca. I want to kill him with my bare hands.”

“So does my father. I've never seen anyone so enraged, and yet his voice remained calm and controlled. But it was so cold, so deadly. I wanted to shriek and yell and put my fist through a wall, but he didn't.”

“Control is very important to your father. It's saved his life on several occasions and other people's lives as well. He's learned not to let emotion cloud his thinking.” He cupped her face in his hand. “I haven't learned it yet, but I'm trying. A terrible thing happened, Becca, but please believe me, it wasn't your fault. We'll catch him. We have to catch him. We've both got to get some sleep.” He kissed her mouth, then immediately straightened. It was hard because he wanted to kiss her again, and not stop. He wanted to ease her back down and pull up that virginal nightgown of hers and get his mouth on every bit of her he could get naked. He wanted to make both of them forget the horror, for a little while. But he knew he couldn't. He took a step away from the bed. “Good night, Becca. Try to get some sleep, all right?”

She nodded mutely. The pain in her eyes, the awful guilt that was still burrowed deep inside her—he couldn't stand it. He kissed her again, hard and fast, and before he lost his head, he was out of her bedroom in a flash.

In the hallway, he was frowning, rage at Krimakov roiling away in his belly, when he walked straight into Thomas, who was standing there, watching him, a thick dark brow arched.

Adam came to a dead stop. “I didn't touch her.”

“No, of course not. I never thought you did. You were in there to ease her guilt, weren't you?”

“Yes, but I doubt I was successful.”

“There's enough guilt for all of us to wallow in,” Thomas said. “I'm going downstairs for a while. I've got some more thinking to do.”

“There isn't any more thinking to do, there's only worrying and second-guessing, all sorts of worthless crap like that. Wait a second—it just occurred to me that he's got to be pissed, rattled. After all, he was expecting to find both you and Becca in that hospital room, but you weren't there. He has to doubt himself now, his judgment, his take on things. He's been meticulous up until now, but this time he wasn't able to be thorough enough. He screwed up big-time. He was wrong. I don't know what he's going to do next, but whatever it is, he might make another mistake. He's also got to contend with the fallout of his cold-blooded murder of four federal agents. They'll mount the biggest manhunt in a decade. He can't believe he's so good he can walk away from this, that he's somehow immune from capture. We're not alone in this anymore. Everyone and his aunt knows about him and what he is.”

“I know that, Adam.” Thomas shoved his long fingers through his hair. “You know how quick he is, how clever. Look at how he flushed all of you out of that house in Riptide and then snuck in and hid in Becca's closet. That took balls and cunning. And luck. It is possible that you could have missed Chuck when you were all scouring the area for him, possible that you would have found Chuck tied up and gagged, but you didn't. He was lucky there and he got her.

“I hate to say this, but I firmly believe he'll evade capture. He knows I'll be at the center of things, trying to figure out how to get him. He'll come to Washington. He's going to try to find Becca and me. He's got nothing else to do.”

“I still can't figure out why he threw Becca out of his car in New York. He had her. He could have announced it and had you knocking on his door to try to save her. But he let her go. Why? I'm making myself crazy. But if he's as smart as you say he is, he won't come down here, at least not yet, not until things cool down a bit.”

“There's one thing I am sure about now, Adam. I'm his reason for living, probably his only reason now. That's why he's leaving a trail of death. He doesn't care about himself anymore. He wants me dead. And Becca, too. I'm thinking that Becca should head out to Seattle or maybe even Honolulu.”

“Yeah, right. You be the one to convince her of that, okay? She's just found you. You believe for a single second that she'd pull out now, be willing to say
sayonara
to the father she just met?”

“Probably not.” Thomas sighed. “She's still so wary of me. It's like she can't make up her mind whether to hug me or slug me for leaving her and her mother.”

“I'm thinking she wants to do both. At least now you two are together. The rest will come, Thomas, be patient. She's known you for twenty-four hours.”

“You're right, of course. But—never mind. Krimakov went right in there and killed everyone,” Thomas said. “Everyone, without hesitation. To flush me out that first time, he released Becca. I can't imagine what he'd do to her now that she's with me. Well, yes I can. He'd kill her with no more remorse than when he killed all the others. And yes, there's no doubt in my mind he believes she's with me now. He had a silencer on the gun, Adam.”

“Yes.”

“Agent Marlane had six shots pumped into her. He saw that the male agent wasn't me, knew he'd been set up, and went berserk. Dell Carson, the agent playing me, had his gun out, but he didn't have time to fire. Neither did Agent Marlane.”

“Yes. I know.”

“How did he get away? Hawley had undercover folk stationed all over that floor and the exits.”

Adam shook his head. “His disguise must have been something else. Maybe he even dolled himself up as a woman. Who knows? Do you remember if Krimakov did disguises back then?”

Thomas leaned against the corridor wall, his arms crossed over his chest. “No. But it's been so many years, Adam, too many. What troubles me, and I know I can't let it, is that Becca can't be sure the guy who took her, the guy on the phone to her, was older.” Thomas shook his head. “Another thing. Vasili was fluent in English, but I've read the transcripts of the conversations he had with Becca. It sounds so unlike him. And what he wrote, what he said to her, what he did. Calling himself her boyfriend, murdering Linda Cartwright, then digging her up, smashing her face, all as a sick joke to drive Becca over the edge. That's the behavior of a psychopath, Adam. Krimakov wasn't a psychopath. He was supremely arrogant, but as sane as I was.”

“Whatever Krimakov was back then, he's changed,” Adam said. “Who knows what's happened to him during the past twenty years? Don't forget all those killings: a second wife, two children, the guy whose password he used to get into the computer system to expunge all his personal data, killing someone to fake his own accidental death in that car accident. How many more we don't know about? And that brings up another question. You said you believe you're now his only focus, his purpose for living. What about his son? He's in that burn clinic in Switzerland. He doesn't care about him anymore? Or maybe that wasn't an accident, either, and he tried to kill him, too?”

“I don't know.”

Adam said, “Maybe he was always over the top and he's gotten more so, and maybe that goes to explain why he appears not to be worrying about his son. No, Thomas, don't argue with me. He's now here—in a foreign country to him—no longer in Crete. He's on our turf, and he probably hasn't been here for all that long.”

“Listen, Adam, we don't know that. Officially, Vasili Krimakov hasn't come into this country in the past fifteen years. He was here once back in the mid-eighties, checking around, trying to sniff me out. That was when he killed that assistant of mine simply because he'd seen her with me and decided she was my mistress. But I got away that time and he left, returned to Crete. We've learned he went to England a number of times, but he hasn't gone back there recently. Unofficially, he could have bounced in and out of the United States with a dozen different phony passports. Who in Greece would catch on to that? Or if they did, even care?”

“Still, we have to assume that he was in Crete most of the time. He was married. He eventually had a kid with this woman. So he simply can't know his way around here all that well.”

Thomas said, “Becca is right. He's a monster, no matter the excuses I make for the man I knew more than twenty years ago. Of course I didn't really know him. He was a target to me, always on the opposite side, the black king to checkmate. Now we're forced to wait, to gnaw our elbows. Krimakov will find us, count on it.

“Oh yeah, Tellie Hawley and Scratch Cobb are coming tomorrow morning to speak to Becca. Maybe that'll be good. I think she liked them both when she met them in New York. Maybe she'll remember more talking to them. They're pretty desperate, as you can well imagine. Hawley is eating himself alive with guilt. They were his agents, all four of them, and now they're dead.”

“Yes,” Adam said, and streaked his fingers through his hair, sending it on end. “Since Savich found Krimakov's apartment in Iráklion, our people will go in. Maybe they'll find something.”

Becca leaned her forehead against the closed door, listening to their voices as they moved off down the hall. She turned then and leaned back against the door, her arms crossed over her chest, just as Adam had done when he'd first come into her room. She closed her eyes.