U.S. Male (17 page)

Markus chalked his stick and adjusted the position of the cue ball. He stroked the cue twice and slammed it against the cue ball so that it knocked the colored balls all over the table. “Perhaps now.”

“P
LEASE
,
SIT
,” Silverhielm said, relaxing back into his cordovan leather chair.

Joss sat looking past him to the deepening dusk and thought of the man who’d probably sat in this chair moments before getting his knee shattered. She suppressed a shudder.

“So, here we are at last,” Silverhielm said.

“Here we are,” she agreed.

“And you have the Blue Mauritius?” His eyes glinted with avarice.

“Of course.” Her palms dampened just as she raised her purse into her lap.

“A momentous occasion, Ms. Astin. One I have waited for. I do not deal well with frustration, as you might imagine.”

Was it her imagination or was there just a breath of malice in his voice? “Isn’t it good that I came to see you, then?”

“Indeed.” He opened a drawer and brought out a mat and a pair of stamp tongs. “I do not wish to wait any longer. The Blue Mauritius, please.”

“The money,” she countered, ignoring his clipped tone of command.

He smiled as though at some private joke. “You do not trust me? I thought we were friends.”

“I still need to see the money.”

“Very well.” He pressed a button in his desk and a section of his bookcase popped ajar. “It is, perhaps, too dramatic, but for a man like myself, security must be of
paramount concern. Always, there are those who attempt to cheat me.”

Behind the bookcase was a panel that slid aside to reveal a wall safe. Like her grandfather, Silverhielm apparently believed in keeping his precious belongings close at hand.

Unlike her grandfather’s, those belongings were guarded by killers.

He opened the safe and moments later returned with a banded stack of bills and a leather stamp album. “Two hundred thousand dollars U.S., as you requested. Would you like to count it?”

“That won’t be necessary.” She didn’t really want his money. Taking it would be tantamount to stealing. All she wanted was her grandfather’s property.

“Ah. You do trust me, then. I’m flattered.” He opened the cover of the stamp album. “Well, then, I will show you the prizes of my collection. Of course, you are not a stamp collector so perhaps they will not please you as much as they would some.”

“I appreciate rarities as much as the next person,” Joss corrected him. “You have the other half of the Post Office Mauritius pair, right?”

“I suppose your ex-boyfriend would know that, would he not?” There was laughter in Silverhielm’s eyes.

“I suppose he would.”

“Here it is.”

Joss let out a breath as he turned the page to display an orange stamp, the stamp that was a twin of the one she’d seen in the safe at the Postmuseet. “May I look at it?” she asked reaching for the album.

But Silverhielm raised a hand. “The Blue Mauritius, first, if you please.”

Reaching into her purse, she pulled out the stiffened glassine envelope that held the Blue Mauritius.

“You have taken proper care of it?” he asked sharply.

“See for yourself.” She slid out the transparent mount that held the stamp, then laid it on the mat in the center of the desk.

Silverhielm set aside his stamp album and reached out to move the mat directly in front of him. For a moment, he just looked at the stamp reverently. Using the tongs, he reached inside the mount to pull out the Blue Mauritius, his hands shaking just a bit. From a drawer, he produced a loupe and inspected the stamp at length. Finally, he let out a long breath. “It is genuine.” He leaned near, brought his fingers almost into contact with the colored square of paper.

It made her sick to see it in his possession. Her only comfort was that it wouldn’t be for long. “Of course it is genuine. And now you have them, side by side.”

He blinked for a moment as though coming out of a trance. “Yes,” he said briskly and reached for the album to pull out the one-penny Mauritius. Using stamp tongs, he reverently picked up the Blue Mauritius and slid it into the empty slot. “So long,” he whispered. “So long I have waited for it to be mine.”

Hands below the level of the desk, Joss reached into her purse and palmed the forgeries. “May I see them?” she asked, rising to lean over the desk.

Just then, a tone sounded. Silverhielm’s eyes flickered over to his computer and in that instant Joss palmed the Post Office Mauritius pair and substituted the forgery.

“I can see why you’re so fascinated by them,” she commented. Silverhielm’s gaze, she noticed, slid to her cleavage and she remained standing and leaning over his desk to look at what was now the forged Post Office Mauritius pair. Finally, she sat.

“So, I have the stamps and you have the money. I think
this calls for a toast,” he said, raising his glass. “To the Blue Mauritius.” He took a drink. “My dear Ms. Chastain.”

“Y
OU KNOW
where I stand on this.” Bax squinted along his cue and popped the six ball in. “I have a client already. Until this job is done I can’t switch.”

“Perhaps the job will be finished more quickly than you had planned.”

Bax flicked a glance at Markus and set up his next shot. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Markus smiled slightly and nodded his head forward a fraction. “I commend you on a most excellent charade. We initially had no idea of your client’s true identity.” Markus stepped up to the table as Bax straightened. “Fortunately, Mr. Silverhielm is a practical man who appreciates skill. Things may not go well for Ms. Chastain, but you may find yourself in a position to profit from your audacity.”

Bax gave him a hard look. “What?”

“It means that you have a choice. Mr. Silverhielm, of course, has brought you here falsely—he has no intention of giving you or Ms. Chastain any money for the one-penny Mauritius. But then, you have come here falsely yourself. The fate of Ms. Chastain has already been settled. What happens to you has not.”

Only through years of training was he able to keep from reacting. Joss was alone with Silverhielm, with a man capable of just about anything. And to get to her, Bax had to go through Markus, not to mention assorted other goons around the house. He needed to figure out a strategy but the fear for Joss kept rising up to choke him. Push it down, he told himself. Put all the emotions away and concentrate. “So what are you asking me to do? Beg for my life?”

“I know you won’t. That’s the kind of man you are.”
Markus crossed to the other side of the table, keeping his distance, Bax noticed, keeping balanced. “Of course, the more important question is what kind of man is Mr. Silverhielm?”

“I’m sure you’ll tell me.”

“Indeed. He is a man who wants always to have his way. He is very vicious when he is crossed. Just as you and Ms. Chastain have crossed him. He would like to kill you. But I believe he would also appreciate someone like you on his side. And I can make that happen.”

“In exchange for what?”

“A show of loyalty to your new employer, perhaps.” Markus leaned his cue against the table. “Ms. Chastain’s punishment is likely to be messy if not attended to with proper care. You have always been so neat.” Markus reached into his coat toward the holster Bax was sure was there.

Their eyes locked.

“I believe it is your shot, Johan.”

“W
HAT DID YOU SAY
?” Joss stared at Silverhielm.

“Did you really think we wouldn’t find out who you are?”

Her heart began rabbiting in her chest. “I told you who I am.”

“Come now.” He thumped his glass down. “It is an embarrassment to both of us for you to try to maintain this falsehood. You are Joss Chastain, the granddaughter of Hugh Chastain.”

“The rightful owner of that Post Office Mauritius pair you’re so proud of,” she snapped, unable to keep quiet.

“The Post Office Mauritius pair I won’t be paying for now,” he said smoothly, picking the stack of bills from the desk and slipping them into a drawer. “You were a fool to think you could fool me, Ms. Chastain, even with the help
of Mr. Bruhn. It may interest you to know he’s agreed to come to work for me, so you won’t find any assistance from that quarter.”

It was a trap, they’d been drawn into a trap on this remote island.

Or she had.

Joss moistened her lips. “He wouldn’t betray me,” she whispered, as much to herself as to Silverhielm.

“No? I think he would. But it is of no matter. You are on my private island, surrounded by my employees. I have the upper hand. Then again,” he raised his eyebrows, “I always do. I don’t like being cheated.”

It stiffened her spine. She glared at him. “You stole those stamps from my grandfather.”

“On the contrary. The thieves are already in jail.” He smiled faintly. “Your fine American criminal justice system at work.”

Her fingers tightened on the stem of her balloon glass. “You stole them.”

“The Post Office Mauritius pair is mine,” he snapped, goaded into anger.

“Then have them.” She rose and flung the contents of the snifter over the album on the table.

Silverhielm roared and snatched at the stamps as Joss whirled and ran for the door.

It was as she’d gambled. He was more interested in saving his million dollar babies than in running after her.

She ran down the hall toward the living room, her stockinged feet slipping on the hardwood floors. Bursting into the living room, she stared at the empty couch. Gone? They couldn’t be, he wouldn’t have abandoned her. She looked around wildly.

And saw the light coming out of a door across the room, partially ajar.

She burst through the door to see Bax standing on the far side of a pool table. “Bax, we’ve got to go,
now
.”

“Not so quickly, Ms. Chastain,” said a soft voice from behind her.

She turned to see Markus Holm standing against the wall, his gun pointed directly between her eyes.

B
AX FROZE
, pool cue at his side, and stared at the two of them.

“Now is the time to choose your side, my friend,” Markus said. “The girl can do nothing for you. Silverhielm can offer you money, a job. And, of course, since I am the only one in the room with a gun, I can offer you something more immediate. You have only to walk away.”

Joss stood transfixed.

Bax shook his head. “I can’t do that.”

“That is a pity. I approve of honor, as you know. But I approve of intelligence more.”

“It’s more than honor, Markus.”

Markus looked at him with curiosity. “More than honor.” He moved the gun slightly in Bax’s direction. “More than your life is worth?”

Bax returned his gaze. “Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I love her,” he said calmly.

Joss snapped her head around to stare at him.

Markus shook his head in disgust. “When did you become a fool, Johan?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe the day I met her.” His reply was to Markus but it was Joss he spoke to, even as he calculated ways and means to get the two of them out of there alive.

Markus studied him. “I could shoot her.”

“I’d come for you.”

“I could shoot you, too, of course. Probably first. Perhaps now.”

“You think so?” Bax asked. “Is your memory really that short?”

Their eyes locked together and the seconds ticked by. “So,” Markus said at last, “you wish my debt repaid.”

Bax said nothing.

A slight smile played on Markus’s lips. “It is perhaps not so great a price as you now think.” He nodded to the French doors that let out from the living room to the terrace and the lawn beyond. “I will let you go and count to ten. You and the lovely Ms. Chastain will get a chance to escape with your lives and you and I will be even. Go.” He jerked his head and lowered the gun. “One…”

And they went.

Markus replaced his gun in his holster and walked out into the living room. “Two,” he said softly to himself as footsteps sounded from within the house.

“Stop them,” Silverhielm roared from the hallway. “She has the real stamps.” He burst into the living room and stopped, staring first at the open doors and then at Markus, who stood impassively before him. “Where are they?”

Markus nodded toward the lawn, toward the two running figures.

“What have you done, you fool?” Silverhielm demanded.

Markus looked at him serenely. “Nothing that will matter.”

“Go after them. Warn the others.”

“Don’t worry,” Markus said, reaching in his pocket for a walkie-talkie. “It is taken care of.”

B
AX RAN ACROSS
the slick grass with Joss. Moonlight bathed the scene in a deceptively calm wash of silver. Beyond the grass, the sea was a presence of darkness broken by the distant haze of light that was Stockholm. If Markus were true to his word, they might have time to make it to the boat before the others pursued them. They might be able to make it to open water.

For now, they needed to reach the staircase that hugged the side of the low rock bluff. Once they were on it, they’d be protected from anyone running toward them, at least until their pursuers got close. He grabbed the hardwood banister and took the stairs two at a time, listening to Joss behind him. Then they hit the landing at the bottom, turning around an outcrop toward the dock.

Only to come to a scrambling halt.

Small lights on the railings silhouetted a guard at the landward end of the dock as he leaned against the railing, nodding his head a little, not looking up. The light offshore breeze brought them the scent of the smoke from his cigarette. Out at the other end of the dock, by Oskar and the boat, the red light flashed. Waves slapped quietly against the pilings.

Joss tapped Bax’s arm. “He has a headset on,” she whispered. Bax nodded, edging forward. The closer he could get without warning the guy, the better. He couldn’t see a gun, but he knew there had to be one. A staticky buzz like that of a walkie-talkie broke the silence. Even as the guard slid off his headset to answer, Bax pounced.

The guard was bigger than he was, solidly built in a way that suggested more muscle than fat. Size wasn’t everything, though. Bax was on him before he could raise his gun, chopping at the hand that held it. The revolver spun away.

“Run to the boat,” Bax bellowed to Joss, then stepped in to catch the guard with a punch to the eye, pain exploding up his arm. The punch should have decked the guy but he only stepped back, shaking his head. Not a good sign, Bax thought, trying to step in before his opponent had gotten himself set. A fraction of a second later, Bax found himself bouncing dizzily off the dock railing, struggling to keep his feet while his ears rang.

The guy was definitely quicker than he’d anticipated. And so were the others, judging by the shouts he heard.

“Watch out,” Joss screamed.

Bax looked to see the guard moving in again, sending a looping roundhouse toward Bax’s temple. Ducking to get inside of it, Bax summoned up a fast uppercut and snapped the guard’s jaw shut. The man stood for a moment, then his knees softened and he sagged toward the ground.

Bax vaulted over him and pounded down the dock to the boat.

“Oskar’s gone,” Joss shouted from inside the boat.

Cursing, Bax unfastened the bow and stern lines. He gave the front of the vessel a shove and jumped in.

“Did you hear me?” Joss cried. “Oskar is gone.”

“He’s not all that’s missing,” Bax said grimly. The keys, as he’d feared, had also been taken and they’d disconnected the GPS unit. Silverhielm’s men had been thorough. Bax reached under the dash to fumble for the ignition wires. And the boat drifted slowly away from the dock, turning back toward Stockholm.

Figures appeared at the edge of the bluff and a bullet ricocheted past him with a whine.

“Get down,” Bax shouted and ducked himself.

“Bax, we can’t leave,” Joss shouted. “What about Oskar?”

Bax ignored her and squinted to see the wires in the moonlight as he untwisted them. He couldn’t think about Oskar, he couldn’t think about feelings. Compartmentalize. The key to survival was focusing on action and admitting no distractions.

A spark jumped from one wire to the other and the engine chugged once. Pumping the gas, he touched the wires again and the engine caught with a roar. With a spin of the wheel, he headed the boat back toward Stockholm.

Joss caught at his arm. “What are you doing?” she demanded.

“We have to get out of here.” He grabbed her, shoved the throttle forward and the boat leapt out of the water.

“We can’t just leave him behind.” Her voice rose in fury. “They could do anything to him.”

Bax glanced back to see figures spilling over the edge of the bluff and clustering around the fallen figure at the head of the dock. Another shot whined past them. “There are people shooting at us, in case you hadn’t noticed. We have to leave him.” He stared at the water ahead, trying desperately to see his path. The moonlight threw a silver glaze over the water, making it easier to see land but harder to see hazards. He aimed the boat away from the islands and tried to remember landmarks from the previous day. “If we stay here, they’ll take us, too and we’ll be no good to him at all.”

“We’re no good to him if we just let them have him. What kind of a man are you?”

As cold and calculating as he could make himself be. “We can’t help him right now, Joss. The only way we can help him is by getting back to Stockholm and Rolf.”

“And if they hurt or kill him in the meantime?”

“That’s a risk we have to take. Don’t you finally understand who we’re dealing with, here?” Bax glanced back
as a roar started up behind them and he cursed. “Do you hear that engine? They’re coming after us in that goddamn big cigarette boat. We’ll be lucky to make it back in one piece, but we’re guaranteed to die if we try to go back to Silverholmen alone.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he rode right over her. “We don’t have the tools, Joss, and you’re not helping me by being hysterical.”

Her mouth clamped shut and she glared at him. Good, he told himself, and tried not to care. If she was angry she’d be focused. “Fine,” Joss snapped. “What do you want me to do?”

The conversation wasn’t over yet, he knew that. At some point, there was going to be hell to pay. First, though, they had to survive. “Concentrate on getting back to the hotel in one piece and then we can figure out what to do. We’ve got a mile on them, maybe two, but they can outrun us and they’ve got guns. Here,” he stepped back. “Take the wheel for a minute. Aim for that light over there.” He pointed.

“I’ve got it,” Joss said.

Bax reached up under the dash and searched for the gun he’d duct taped in place earlier that evening. “Okay.” He brought it out. “It’s not much fire power, but it’s all we’ve got. You cock it by pulling back the action, like this. The safety is right here.” He showed her. “If you want to help, when that boat pulls up to within eight or ten feet, try to take a shot. See if you can get them to keep their heads down.” He took the wheel and adjusted their course. “Sit down and steady it on the gunwales. Remember to squeeze the trigger, don’t pull.”

“What about extra ammunition?”

“There’s another clip.” He handed it to her. “If we’re not out of trouble by the time you’ve finished them both off, we’re not going to be.”

She nodded and took the gun from him.

And in that moment, compartmentalization be damned, he loved her.

J
OSS STARED
tensely back at the lights of the cigarette boat as it drew inexorably nearer. They’d moved through the line of barrier islands on the outer archipelago. Ahead of them, the inner islands formed a funnel of land that would bring them into the narrow, tree-lined pass that led to the Stockholm harbor. She felt their speed drop a little.

There was a whine and a corner of the little boat’s windshield exploded into shards.

“Get down,” Bax hollered. “They’re within firing range.”

Joss dived down on the deck of the boat and scrambled over to the gunwale, her anger and fear forgotten. Survival was all that mattered now. “They’re a good half a mile away.”

“So they’ve got a rifle.” He slalomed the boat a bit to make them less of a target. “It’s getting shallow and tricky in here. They’re going to have to come down off the plane, soon, and that’s going to bounce them around more. Make them less accurate, slower. But we’re going to have to slow down, too.” Another shot whined past them.

The entrance to the pass was tantalizingly near yet frustratingly distant. The gun felt heavy and useless in her hand. Turning, she searched for an answer in the darkness.

And felt a surge of hope. “Bax,” she shouted, “the ferry.” Coming up from their left, the white boat looked like a waterborne chandelier, the deck lights shining out over the water as it steamed majestically along toward the Stockholm inner harbor. “Could we use them as a shield in the pass?”

He stared at her a moment, then understanding broke.

It was a chance, she thought. If they could get ahead of the ferry before they went into the narrow waterway, the cigarette boat couldn’t get to them, Silverhielm’s men couldn’t shoot them. If they could head off the ferry they might be safe.

Another shot whistled by them. Bax made a minor adjustment in their course and inched the throttle forward, his expression hard and focused as they rocketed through the dark waters. The ferry steamed along, closer and closer to intersecting their course. Would they get there in time, was the question. Behind them sounded the relentless engine of the cigarette boat.

Ahead of them lay the pass between the island of Nacka and the island of Ingarö. The ferry began its long, slow turn across in front of them, aiming at the pass.

And everything began to happen way too quickly.

One minute, they were behind the white ship. The next, Bax was whipping the boat around the ferry, skimming terrifyingly close to the rocky margins of the islands. The high, white side of the ferry towered over them mere feet away as they surged past it. The coastlines flowed in toward them.

Joss’s hands tightened on the gunwale. If Bax miscalculated, they’d be wiped out like a bug on a truck windshield. And if he lost his nerve… Another shot from their pursuers whizzed past them, ricocheting off the white side of the ferry and clipping the edge of the speedboat’s gunwale. Reminding them of what lay behind.

Foot by foot, they neared the ferry’s bow. Time stretched out, the seconds crawling by. Then Bax shoved the throttle all the way up. The speedboat jumped forward and shot ahead of the ferry, slipping in front of the white painted prow with only a few feet or so to spare. The ferry’s airhorn blared in protest.

Then they were in the narrow pass, the solid bulk of the ferry behind them and no room for the cigarette boat to get by. They’d made it. They were safe.

For now.