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Authors: Iris Johansen

Tags: #Fiction, #Suspense

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BOOK: Killer Dreams
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“Then let me kill him for you. That’s a much better solution.”

Jock’s tone was casual, almost without expression, she thought. “Because it wouldn’t bother you? That’s a lie. It would bother you. You’re not that callous.”

“Aren’t I? Do you know how many kills I’ve done?”

“No, and you don’t know either. That’s why you’ve helped me.” She pressed the start on the coffeemaker and leaned against the counter. “One of the guards saw me. Maybe more than one guard. I’m not sure.”

He stiffened. “That’s bad. Were you caught on the video camera?”

She shook her head. “And I was wearing a coat and my hair was tucked under a cap. I’m sure no one saw me until I started to leave, and then only for a minute. It could still be okay.”

He shook his head.

“Yes, it
will
. I’ll make it work. No one’s going to call the police. Sanborne doesn’t want to call attention to anything out of the ordinary at the facility.”

“But they’ll be on the alert now.”

She couldn’t deny that. “I’ll be careful.”

Jock shook his head. “I can’t allow it,” he said gently. “Maybe MacDuff has infected me with his sense of responsibility. I killed my personal demon years ago, but I pointed you in the right direction to get Sanborne. You might never have found him if I hadn’t led you to him.”

“I’d have found him. It would have just taken me longer. Sanborne Pharmaceutical has facilities all over the world. I would have checked every one of them.”

“And it had taken you eighteen months to get that far.”

“I couldn’t believe it. Or maybe I couldn’t accept it. It was too ugly.”

“Life can be ugly. People can be ugly.”

But Jock wasn’t ugly, she thought as she gazed at him. He was perhaps the most beautiful human being she had ever seen. He was slender, in his early twenties with fair hair and features that were completely remarkable. There was nothing effeminate about him, he was totally masculine and yet that face was…beautiful. There was no other way to describe it.

“Why are you looking at me?” Jock asked.

“You wouldn’t want to know. It would offend that manly Scottish pride of yours.” She poured herself a cup of coffee. “I had a patient last night whose name was Elspeth. That’s Scottish too, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “And did she do well?”

“I think so. I hope so. She’s a sweet little girl.”

“And you’re a good woman.” He paused. “Who’s trying to avoid an argument by changing the subject.”

“I’m not arguing. This is my battle. I pulled you into it to help me, but I’m not going to let you run any risk or accept any guilt.”

“Guilt? Lord, if you’d thought it through, you’d realize how silly that is. My soul must be as black as hell’s own cauldron by now.”

She shook her head. “No, Jock.” She bit her lower lip. Damn, she didn’t want to say this. “I appreciate all you’ve done, but maybe it’s time you left me.”

“That’s not going to happen. We’ll talk later. Good day, Sophie.” Jock was heading for the door. “I promised to pick up Michael from his soccer game this afternoon so you don’t have to bother if you’re tied up. Get to bed and try to sleep. You told me you had a one o’clock appointment.”

“Jock.”

He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “It’s too late to try to rid yourself of me. I can’t have you killed. I’m being entirely selfish. I have too few friends in this world. I seem to have lost the knack. It would hurt me to lose you.”

The door slammed behind him.

Dammit, she didn’t need this reaction from Jock. She should have kept her mouth shut about being seen. She knew how protective he could be. He’d kept arguing with her about letting him do the kill but when she’d refused he’d set about teaching her the safest and best way to do what had to be done. He’d stayed by her during these months to oversee and protect and to be there in case she changed her mind. She should have sent him away after he’d taught her what she needed to know. He’d said he was being selfish, but she was the one who’d been selfish. Having him here to keep an eye on Michael when she had to work late had been a blessing in itself. She’d felt terribly alone and Jock had been a comfort. But she had to force him to go now.

“I’ve got five minutes.” Michael came tearing into the kitchen. He grabbed the orange juice and downed it. “No time for breakfast.” He grabbed his book bag and headed for the door. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek as he passed. “I won’t be home until six. Soccer.”

“I know. Jock told me.” She gave him a hug. “I’ll see you at the game.”

His face lit up. “You can make it?”

“I’ll be late, but I’ll be there.”

He smiled. “Great.” He started to leave and then stopped. “Quit worrying, Mom. I’m okay. We’ve got this licked. It only happened three times this week.”

Three times when his heartbeat tripled and he woke screaming. Three times when he could have died if she hadn’t had a monitor on him. Yet he was trying to keep her from fretting. She forced a smile. “I know. You’re right. You’re on the uphill path. What can I say? I’m a worrywart. It goes with the territory.” She pushed him toward the door. “Take a protein bar since you don’t have time to eat your breakfast.”

He grabbed the bar and was gone.

She hoped he’d remember to eat it. He was too thin. After the terrors he had trouble keeping food down, yet he insisted on being involved in soccer and track. It was probably good for him to be busy and she wanted desperately for him to have as normal a life as possible. But there was no question the sports had helped to melt the pounds off him.

Her cell phone rang.

She stiffened as she checked the ID. Dave Edmunds. Jesus, she didn’t need to deal with her ex-husband now. “Hello, Dave.”

“I hoped I’d catch you before you went to work.” He paused. “Jean and I are catching a flight to Detroit Saturday night, so I’ll have to bring Michael back early. Is that okay?”

“No. But I guess it has to be.” Her hand tightened on the phone. “Christ, it’s the first time you’ve had Michael for a weekend in six months. Do you think he’s not going to know why you won’t have him overnight? He’s not stupid.”

“Of course not.” He paused. “It’s those damn wires, Sophie. I’m afraid of doing something wrong. He’s better off with you.”

“Yes, he is. But I showed you how to connect the monitor. It’s simple. Just the index-finger pulse-ox and the backup chest band. Michael does it himself now. You just have to check the monitor to make sure it’s working properly. You’re his father and I won’t have him cheated. For God’s sake, he doesn’t have the plague. He’s wounded.”

“I know that,” Dave said. “I’m working on it. It scares the hell out of me, Sophie.”

“Then get over it. He needs you.” She hung up, blinking to suppress the stinging tears. She’d hoped Dave was making an adjustment at last but it didn’t look promising. The safe haven she’d set up for Michael with his father was disintegrating before her eyes. She’d have to think of something else, make other plans. Before that hideous day she’d thought their marriage could make it, although they were having a few problems. She’d been wrong. It hadn’t been strong enough to survive more than six months after she’d gotten out of the hospital.

But, dammit, he
had
to be there for Michael if he needed him. He had to be.

Keep calm. She couldn’t do anything right now. She’d find a way to protect Michael. Go to bed. Go to sleep. Then go back to the hospital where she could keep herself busy doing what she’d been trained to do.

Help people, instead of planning to kill them.

 

“I’m asking you to release me from my promise,” Jock Gavin said when MacDuff picked up the phone. “I may have to kill a man.” He waited, listening to the Laird cursing on the other end of the line. When he stopped, Jock said, “He’s a very bad man. He deserves to die.”

“Not by your hand, dammit. That’s all over for you.”

It could never be over, Jock thought. He knew that even if the Laird did not. But MacDuff wanted it so badly that he was willing it so. “Sophie is going to kill Sanborne, if I don’t. I can’t let her do it. She’s been hurt too much already. Even if she doesn’t get caught, it will scar her.”

“She’ll probably back down. You said she didn’t have the killer instinct.”

“But now she has the skill. I’ve given it to her. And along with the skill, she has the hatred and a sense of doing the wrong thing for the right reason. That will push her over the edge.”

“Then let her do it. Get out of there.”

“I can’t do that. I have to help her.”

MacDuff was silent for a moment. “Why? What do you feel for her, Jock?”

Jock chuckled. “Don’t worry. Not sex. And, God knows, not love. Well, maybe love. Friendship is love too. I like her and the boy. I feel a bond because of what she’s suffered. What she’s still suffering.”

“That’s enough for me to worry about if it’s making you take up old habits. I want you to come back to MacDuff’s Run.”

“No. Release me from my promise.”

“The hell I will. I’ve left you on your own to find your way for a long time. It was damn hard for me. The only thing I asked was that you keep in contact and that there would be no more killings.”

“And there haven’t been.”

“Until now.”

“It hasn’t happened…yet.”

“Jock, don’t you—” MacDuff stopped and drew a deep breath. “Let me think.” There were a few minutes of silence and Jock could almost hear the Laird’s mind clicking, turning over the possibilities. “What would make you come back to the Run?”

“I don’t want her to kill Sanborne.”

“Can we get the FBI or a government agency on it?”

“She said she’d tried. She thinks there’s a payoff.”

“It’s possible. Sanborne’s got almost as much money as Bill Gates and that potential could be pretty dazzling to most politicians. What about the media?”

“Sophie was in a mental hospital for three months with a nervous breakdown after the killings. That was one of the reasons she couldn’t get anyone to listen to her.”

“Shit.”

“Release me from my promise,” he repeated patiently.

“Forget it,” MacDuff said curtly. “You don’t want her to kill Sanborne? Then we’ll throw someone else into the mix who will do the job for her.”

“If she won’t let me, she won’t let anyone else either. She said she feels responsible.”

“Who’s going to tell her? We’ll just get rid of the bastard.”

Jock chuckled. “So much for preventing homicide. You’re beginning to sound like me, MacDuff.”

“I don’t mind stepping on a cockroach. I just don’t want you doing it. What about pulling Royd into the picture?”

Jock went still. “Royd?”

“You told me that he was on the hunt. Is there any doubt that Royd will take over and follow through if he gets the chance?”

“No doubt at all. He’s a powerhouse. I’d only have to worry about him stampeding over Sophie.”

“And that would be a good thing if it kept her safe.”

“Sophie wouldn’t think so,” Jock said dryly. “And she’d only get up and track him down like she did me.”

“Call Royd, and then come home.”

“No.”

Silence. “Please.”

“I don’t want—” He sighed. A promise was a promise and he owed MacDuff more than he could pay in a millennium. “I’ll think about it. It may take me a little while to locate him. For all I know Royd may be dead. The last I heard he was somewhere in Colombia. I’ll try to reach him.”

“If you need help, let me know. Get him there and get on that plane. I’ll meet you in Aberdeen.” He hung up.

Jock slowly pressed the disconnect. MacDuff’s response was not unexpected but he was still disappointed. He wanted to end Sophie’s torment in the quickest and most efficient manner and there was no one more efficient than he was at the task she’d set herself.

Except perhaps Royd.

As he’d told MacDuff, Royd was a powerhouse in every sense of the word. He’d had MacDuff investigate Royd’s background when the man had contacted him a year ago. He seemed to be filled with passion and bitterness, but Jock had lived with lies and deception too long and was not going to chance being used again. Royd was smart, ruthless, and managed to pull off operations that were difficult, if not impossible.

And he had cause for the passion and bitterness he’d shown Jock. There was little doubt that he would focus single-mindedly on Sanborne and REM-4 once he knew where the facility was located.

But, dammit, Jock didn’t like the idea of not being around to monitor Royd’s actions. He
liked
Sophie Dunston and Michael, and gentle emotion of any kind was rare and precious in his life. He’d had to learn how to respond again and that knowledge was something to be treasured and protected.

He smiled without mirth at that last thought. It was bizarre to be dwelling on gentleness when he was fighting to commit the most horrendous of sins in the name of kindness.

And it might still come to that if Royd had lost interest in the hunt.

Not bloody likely.

2

C
ould it be her?” Robert Sanborne asked as he looked up from the report on his desk.

“Sophie Dunston?” Gerald Kennett shrugged. “I suppose it could be her. You read the security guard’s report. He only got a glimpse of the intruder. Sex unknown. Medium height, slim, brown jacket, tweed cap, and carrying a rifle. I guess there might be footprints. Should I pull some strings and get the police to send a forensics crew to check it out?”

“What an idiotic question. We can’t have police anywhere near the facility. Send some of our men to look around.”

Gerald tried to keep Sanborne from seeing how the contempt in his voice stung. The more he came into contact with Sanborne the more the man irritated him. The son of a bitch had a God complex and was only diplomatic with the people he had to be. Well, let him think Gerald was his inferior. He would take Sanborne for everything he could and then walk away. “You actually believe she’d try to shoot you?”

“Hell, yes.” Sanborne looked back down at the report. “If she can’t get me any other way. I’ve been expecting her to make a move since Senator Tipton refused to listen to her. She’s a desperate woman.”

“So what are you going to do?” Gerald added quickly, “I didn’t come on board to become involved in anything violent. I just agreed to bring her to you if she agreed to a meeting with me.”

“Why, Gerald, it’s Sophie Dunston who’s becoming violent,” Sanborne said silkily. “But what can you expect when you consider her unstable background. One should feel sorry for the poor woman. She has such burdens to bear that she must often feel suicidal.”

Gerald gazed at him warily. “Suicidal?”

“I’m sure that her coworkers would testify that she was under a strain. Her poor son, you know.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that it’s time to rid myself of that bitch. I’ve been biding my time because it would be too suspicious since she’s been so vocal among the FBI and political circles. And I thought I might be able to get some information I needed from her.” He tapped the report. “But this is making me uneasy. I may have to adjust my plans. The crazy woman might get lucky if those idiot security guards aren’t more efficient. I didn’t get this far marketing the project to have Sophie Dunston try to blow me out of the water.”

Gerald raised his brows. “I can see how it would be a serious inconvenience.”

Sanborne’s eyes narrowed. “Sarcasm, Gerald?”

“No, of course not,” Gerald said quickly. “I just don’t know how—”

“Of course you don’t. You’re out of your depth here. You’re hoping to skim the profit off our deal and keep your hands from getting dirty,” Sanborne said. “But I’d bet you wouldn’t mind looking the other way while Caprio got his hands dirty.”

Caprio. Gerald had only met the man once since he’d started to work for Sanborne, but the mention was enough to cause him to instinctively stiffen warily. He imagined that ripple of uneasiness was the reaction most people felt for Caprio. “Perhaps.”

“Caprio doesn’t mind a little dirt. He enjoys it.” Sanborne added, “And you’re already dirty. You embezzled over five hundred thousand dollars from your company and your ass would be in jail by now if I hadn’t given you the money to replace it.”

“I would have found the money.”

“In your Christmas stocking?”

“I have contacts.” He moistened his lips. “I wasn’t afraid of being caught. I came to you because you offered me a deal I couldn’t refuse.”

“The deal is still on the table. I might even sweeten it if you prove your value to me by delivering Sophie Dunston in the next week. In the meantime I’ll make a few moves of my own.” He reached for the telephone and dialed. “Lawrence, things are heating up. We may have to move fast.” He paused. “Tell Caprio I need to see him.”

 

Chains cutting into his shoulders.

Had to move. Had to get free.

Oh, God.

Blood!

Royd jerked upright in bed, his eyes flying open. His heart was pounding and he was coated with sweat.

He shook his head to clear it and swung his feet to the floor. Just another bitchin’ nightmare. Block it out. It wouldn’t bring Todd back and it only filled him with anger and frustration.

He stood up, grabbed his canteen, and left his tent. He dumped the water on his face and took a deep breath. It was almost morning and time to go after Fredericks. If the rebels hadn’t decided to make an example of him and already blown his head off.

He hoped to God they hadn’t. From what he’d heard from Soldono, his contact with the CIA, Fredericks was a pretty decent guy for a CEO. Which didn’t mean shit in this world. Power was the name of the game and nice guys did finish last if they didn’t have the muscle to protect themselves. Fredericks did have the muscle, and his bodyguards had to have either been inefficient or bribed by—

His cell phone rang. Soldono telling him the rescue was scratched?

“Royd.”

“Nate Kelly. Sorry to call you this early but I’ve just gotten back from the facility. I think I’ve got it. Do you have time for me?”

He stiffened. “Talk and talk fast. I have to get moving in a few minutes.”

“This won’t take more than a few minutes. I located the initial experimental REM-4 records. No formulas. They must keep them somewhere else. But three names. Sanborne, your favorite, General Boch, and one more.”

“Who?”

“Dr. Sophie Dunston.”

“A woman? Who the hell is she?”

“I don’t know yet. I haven’t had time to investigate. I called you right away. But her file was cross-referenced to a current file. I was going to go through it but I had to get out of the file room quick.”

“Then she’s still involved.”

“It would seem that’s an affirmative.”

“I want to know everything about her.”

“I’ll do my best. But they’re moving everything at the facility out within the next week. I don’t know how long I’ll have access to the record room.”

Shit. “A week?”

“That’s the scuttlebutt.”

“I’ve got to have that information. I can’t touch Boch or Sanborne unless I get those REM-4 research records too. It has to be a package deal. But the woman might be a lead if I can get my hands on her.”

“And what will you do with her?”

“Find out everything she knows.”

“And then?”

“What do you think? Do you actually believe because she’s a woman that I’d let her out from under?”

Kelly was silent a moment. “No, I guess not.”

“That’s because you’re not a fool. Can you get the information about her before they jerk the files?”

“If I work fast and they don’t nail me.”

“Do it.” He spoke slowly, enunciating every word clearly. “I haven’t searched for REM-4 for years to be put off now. I want to know everything about Sophie Dunston. I need her. And I’m going to have her.”

“I’ll go back tonight. I’ll meet you at Washington National Airport tomorrow with whatever I can gather.”

“I can’t be there tomorrow.” He thought about it. He was tempted to blow this job and toss it back to the CIA, but it was too late. By the time they got through hemming and hawing, Fredericks would be dead. “Give me a week.”

“I can’t promise she’ll still be around by then. If Boch and Sanborne are moving out, she may be meeting them.”

Royd muttered a curse. “Two days. I have to have at least two days. Find her and call me if it looks like she’s taking off. Keep her on ice until I get there.”

“Are you suggesting I kidnap her?”

“Whatever it takes.”

“I’ll consider it. Two days. Phone me when you board your flight to Washington.” He hung up.

REM-4.

Royd pressed the disconnect, frustration searing through him. Jesus. He was coming so close but this was the first real break he’d gotten in the last three years. And it came at a time when he had to be tied up with Fredericks.

Two days.

He started to throw on his clothes. Get Fredericks out of here and get on that plane. No time for mistakes. No time for games. He’d get Fredericks away from the rebels today if he had to napalm a path through the whole jungle between here and Bogotá.

And he’d damn well be in Washington sooner than the two days for which he’d bargained.

Just don’t let her get away, Kelly.

 

Michael’s scream tore through the house at the same time the monitor went off on Sophie’s bedside table.

In seconds Sophie was on her feet and running toward his bedroom.

He screamed again before she reached his bed.

“Michael, it’s all right.” She sat down on the bed and shook him. His eyes opened dazedly and she gathered him close. “It’s all right, you’re safe.” It wasn’t all right. It was never all right. She could feel his heart, throbbing, jumping erratically. He was shaking as if he had malaria. “It’s over.”

“Mom?”

“Yes.” Her arms tightened around him. “You okay?”

He didn’t answer for a moment. It always took a few minutes for him to recover even when they caught the terror before he sank all the way into it. “Sure.” His voice was uneven. “I’m sorry that you—I should be stronger, shouldn’t I?”

“No, you’re very, very strong. I know grown men who have these terrors and you do much better than they do.” She drew a little away and brushed the hair back from his face. Tears were running down his cheeks, but she didn’t try to wipe them away. She’d learned to ignore them to avoid embarrassing him. It was a small thing, but all she could do to save his pride when he was so dependent on her. “I keep telling you it’s not a question of weakness. It’s an illness that has to be cured. I know your pain and I’m very proud of you.” She paused. “There’s only one thing that would make me prouder. If you’d talk to me about them…”

He looked away from her. “I don’t remember.”

It was a lie and they both knew it. It was true that night-terror victims often didn’t remember the content of their dreams, but Michael’s had to be connected to that day on the pier. Just the way he behaved when she asked him about it was a sign that he did recall them. “It would help you, Michael.”

He shook his head.

“Okay, maybe next time.” She stood up. “How about a cup of hot chocolate?”

“It’s four-thirty. You have to work today, don’t you?”

“I’ve had enough sleep.” She headed for the door. “You go wash your face and I’ll make the chocolate.” He was pale and this had been a bad one. Jesus, she hoped he didn’t throw up. “Kitchen. Ten minutes, okay?”

“Okay.”

He had a little color back in his cheeks when he sat down at the table five minutes later. “Dad called me yesterday afternoon.”

“That’s nice.” She poured the hot chocolate into the two mugs and added marshmallows on the top. “How is he?”

“Pretty good, I guess.” He took a drink. “I’m coming home Saturday night. He and Jean are going out of town. I told him that it was okay with me. I’d rather come home and be with you anyway.”

“I’m glad. I miss you.” She sat down and cradled the cup in her cold hands. “But why? You like Jean, don’t you?”

“Sure. She’s neat. But I think she and Dad like to be alone. Newlyweds do, don’t they?”

“Sometimes. But they’ve been married almost six months and I’m sure there’s room for you in their lives.”

“Maybe.” He took another drink and looked down at his chocolate. “Is it my fault, Mom?”

“Is what your fault?”

“You and Dad.”

She had been waiting for him to ask that question since Dave and she had separated. She was glad that he had finally let it come out. “The divorce? No way. We were just different people. We got married in college when we were kids and we changed when we got older. It happens to lots of couples.”

“But you guys argued a lot about me. I heard you.”

“Yes, we did. But we argued a lot about most things. And that doesn’t mean we wouldn’t have gotten a divorce anyway.”

“Honest?”

She reached out and covered his hand with hers. “Honest.”

“And it’s all right if I like Jean?”

“It’s great that you like Jean. She makes your dad very happy. That’s important.” She took a paper napkin and wiped the melted marshmallow from his mouth. “And she’s nice to you. That’s even more important.”

He was silent a moment. “Dad says Jean’s a little nervous about my nightmares. I think that’s why they don’t want me to stay overnight.”

That bastard. He’d passed the buck to Jean so that he’d come out smelling like a rose. She forced a smile. “She’ll get used to them. Heck, she may not have to get used to them. Like you said, they don’t come every night any longer. You’re getting better and better.”

He nodded and was silent a moment. “He asked me about Jock.”

She sipped her drink. “Really? You told him about Jock?”

“Sure. I mentioned him a couple times the last time Dad and I went to the movies.”

“What did he want to know?”

He grinned. “He asked what he was doing here at the house all the time. I think he thought there was something mushy going on.”

“And what did you tell him?”

“I told him the truth. That Jock was your cousin and he was only in town looking for a job.”

It was the truth as far as Michael knew. She’d had to concoct a logical story when Jock had shown up. “Lucky for us,” she said. “Jock’s been a great help, hasn’t he? You like him, don’t you?”

His smile faded as he nodded. “You know, it kind of embarrasses me to have strangers around when I have bad dreams. But I don’t feel like that with Jock. It’s like…he knows.”

Jock did know. No one could know that torment better. “Maybe he does. Jock is a pretty sensitive guy.” She stood up. “You finished? I’ll wash your cup.”

“I’ll do it.” He got to his feet and took his cup and her own to the sink. “You made the chocolate. Fair’s fair.”

But there wasn’t anything fair about what Michael was going through, she thought bitterly. “That’s right. Thanks. Are you ready to go back to bed?”

“I guess so.”

She searched his face. “No guessing about it. If you’re not ready, we’ll sit around and talk. Maybe watch a DVD.”

“I’m ready.” He smiled at her. “You go back to bed. I’ll fasten myself up to the monitor.” He grimaced. “I’ll be glad when I can do without it. I feel like something from a science-fiction movie.”

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