The Spy Wore Red (11 page)

“Unwanted kids,” he mused. “They would be better off dead. Our mothers should have disposed of us before we were born.”

“That’s horrible. You can’t really believe that. Look at you. Who you are.”

“Who am I?”

“An Onyxx rat fighter. You help people. Fix the world’s problems.”

Bjorn chuckled. “A regular superhero, that’s me. What else do I do…to you?”

She paused, then said, “You feed my soul.”

He reached out and stroked her cheek with the back of his hand. “So tell me how you came to be at Quest.”

The question brought immediate tension to the lines in her lovely face. She pulled back from his hand and drew her blanket more securely around herself. “You know how. Once Kovar realized that I wasn’t going to make a comeback on the slopes, he wanted revenge.”

“On you?”

“Yes. He thought I threw the race that day. That I deliberately lost control.”

“Why would he think that?”

“I had asked him to give me some time off. My life with Kovar was simple and single-minded. He lived to see me ski. It’s all I did from the time I was eight until I had the accident at nineteen. I skied for my grandfather’s pleasure, not my own. I was tired. After the accident when the use of my leg was gone, he wanted to punish me for taking it all away from him. And he found a way to do it.”

“How?”

“He gave me back the use of my leg, let me get comfortable living again, then gave me a choice. Become his pawn in the intelligence world, or give back the bionic chip and return to a wheelchair. To this day he likes to threaten me with the promise that he’ll have it removed if I don’t do what he says. Of course life…walking and feeling whole can become an addiction. I won’t lie, I’m hooked on the alternative. I can’t ever go back no matter what, and Kovar knows it.”

Bjorn swore.

“I feel like a prisoner sometimes just waiting to be set free. But it will never happen. I—”

“Shh…”

Bjorn shrugged off his blanket. Naked, he pulled her onto his lap. He kissed her and stroked her, shoved her blanket off her shoulders.

It started out with just a taste, but soon they were sprawled on the fur in front of the fire making another memory.

It didn’t have to be this way. You could have been the best, Nadja. We worked so hard, you and I. You know how I feel about human weakness. And so we will forget about the skiing because we must, and focus on another passion close to my heart. You will have a choice. You can remain on your feet by agreeing to support my cause, or you can decline the offer. The choice is yours. Life or death. It makes no difference to me. You see I no longer love you. I can’t after what you’ve done. But I can and will punish you, over and over again. Make your choice.

She had no idea why she was remembering that awful night, or why she’d told Bjorn the intimate details of her sorry life. Maybe it was being stuck in this small space that was making her feel so vulnerable, or maybe it had been the physical intimacy they had shared that had loosened her tongue.

For three days it had snowed nonstop, and for three days she and Bjorn had hardly left their bed. They ordered room service, and it was delivered by a young man named Gil who came on a snowmobile wearing an insulated parka and a knowing grin. They talked for hours, played cards, and caught up on their sleep spooned together as one.

It was now the fourth day, and the weather was changing. Standing at the window, looking out over the snow-covered mountains, Nadja knew her time with Bjorn had come to an end.

She left the window and returned to the bed, slipping beneath the comforter to snuggle close to the length of his body. She listened to his even breathing, all the while enjoying the feel of him next to her. He was lightly dusted with hair, and she’d noticed a number of scars on his body. She’d asked about them and he’d told her stories about his escapades as a young boy on the docks in Copenhagen. Some were funny, and they had laughed together.

She drew the sheet back and looked at the length of his muscle-hard legs, then his firm butt and smooth back. She had never slept with a man all night long. Had never woken up in a pair of strong arms, or made love all afternoon. Until three days ago. She would remember, she vowed—all of it.

Snuggled in their room away from the complications of the world, she’d almost allowed herself to believe that anything was possible. But she knew better. It seemed appropriate, however, that she have this time with him. The guilt had lifted, and she was prepared to face whatever she must, once she found Ruger. She was no longer going to question why things happened.

Ruger was right, it had all been part of God’s plan. What that meant was that she and Bjorn had been destined to meet that night in Vienna. And what had happened afterward had been destiny, too.

At dawn, with a heavy heart, Nadja slipped away from Bjorn’s warm body. She made two phone calls, then left him sleeping on his stomach, the sheet riding low, exposing his memorable ass.

The storm had finally blown itself out. The roads were being plowed open, and although the air was crisp, the sun was out.

It was a perfect morning for a little target practice.

Holic watched his daughter hit the bull’s-eye dead center, then pump seven more shots into the chest of the paper target. He gauged her balanced stance. The way she extended her arm and gripped the SIG. The way she squeezed off the rounds with meticulous precision, breathing only between shots.

Her shoulders were relaxed, the angle of her head perfect as she looked through the gun’s sights. It was all there—she had inherited his style as well as his black hair and dark eyes.

Holic smiled, unable to hide his elation.

Soon, then, very soon.

His pride soared as she turned and smiled at him.

“Will I ever be as good as you?”

The question brought more pride.

“Tell me what you think,” she pressed. “I can take it. What do I need to work on to get better? My stance, or do you think—”

“Change nothing. Just keep practicing. There can never be too much practice.” Grinning, he raised an imaginary bottle to salute his daughter. “
Prost!
To perfection.”

She tossed her head and let a peal of laughter touch the cold morning air. She laid down the gun and hugged him, careful not to bump his hand. She kissed one cheek, then the other.

“I love you,” she whispered. “I’m so happy you’re home, Father.”

It was time, Holic decided—when her spirits were high and her eyes full of love for him. Time to have a heart-to-heart with his daughter. He’d never wanted her to know the ugly truth behind his business, and if he was careful, she wouldn’t have to. He’d tell her only what would motivate her and bring her to his side.

Yes, loyalty was the gift that could move mountains, and make a rich man even richer.

“Are you cold?”

“A little.” He faked a shiver. “Let’s go back inside and I’ll help you make hot cocoa.”

“You’re going to make cocoa? I thought I made the best you ever tasted,” she teased.

“It’s true. You do.”

“Then I’ll make the cocoa while you watch. And we’ll talk. I never tire of talking to you.” She tucked her arm around his waist. “You’re stronger today. How’s the hand?”

It was stiff, and unchanged. Worrisome. He’d been using some effective drugs to combat the pain, but he didn’t want her to know any of that.

“It feels better,” he lied. “It’s going to take some time, though. Longer than I had first thought. That’s one of the things I wanted to talk to you about.”

They began to walk back to the lodge.

“Will that be a problem? Are you feeling pressured to return to work?”

“I was given time to recover, but the work is important.”

“What will happen if you can’t work for a while?”

This was where he would start. She’d opened the door for him and that was all he needed.

“You know my work is very important. World affairs often are. They’ve asked me to recommend someone while I’m healing.”

“A replacement?”

“It would just be temporary, but there is a schedule to keep. A very important schedule.”

“And do you have a recommendation for them?”

He stopped walking, looked down at her. “I didn’t, not until today.” He smiled when her eyes widened. “But only if you feel comfortable, Pris.”

“Me?”

“You’re perfect. Your shots are clean and on target every time.”

“But—”

“I saw with my own eyes. You could be my replacement until my gun hand mends. You have the gift. Will you at least consider it?”

“I would need to know more.”

“Of course, and I’ll tell you everything. It’s very confidential work. Top secret. You’d be required to travel.”

“Travel?” She was smiling back at him now. “I’ve always wanted to travel.”

“I know. Your mother told me. The question I need to ask you is this. Could you kill someone? Could you shoot someone evil? Could you pull the trigger on a man or woman targeted for assassination in the name of government security? Could you, Pris? It’s such important work, but it’s not for everyone.”

She thought a moment, then nodded. “Yes, I think I could pull the trigger for the right reason, Father.”

“How it works is, you get a file with a name and a location, and you go. You hunt, pull the trigger and disappear. No reservations. Could you do it?”

“I would be like you?”

Holic shook his head. “No, you would
be
me, Pris.”

Again she hugged him. “Thank you, Father. I won’t disappoint you. I promise.”

“I’ll make a phone call.”

Holic kissed his daughter’s forehead, knowing he didn’t need to call anyone. He alone controlled his destiny, and now he controlled his daughter’s, as well.

Chapter 11

T
he ski runs made Groffen famous, but the lodge itself was as breathtaking as the snow-covered mountain peaks that surrounded it. Towering like a castle made of glass, the ten-story architectural wonder was truly a skier’s paradise. With sixty lifts, and ninety miles of piste, the world-famous resort offered world-class entertainment on and off the slopes.

Nadja walked into the lodge filled with a mix of emotions. It didn’t matter if she was eight, eighteen, or now thirty, her life had always been, and would forever be, controlled by Kovar.

She pushed thoughts of her grandfather aside for now. She didn’t want to see him yet. She hadn’t had to deal with him directly for several months, and that had been just fine with her. She didn’t know why he’d been avoiding her—he’d canceled two meetings with her in Prague in the past six months—but she wasn’t complaining.

She could live a lifetime without seeing him. But that wouldn’t be possible on this trip. She’d entered the lion’s den, and eventually she would have to face him.

But first she would meet with Mady at the
kaffeehaus.
It seemed appropriate. That’s where they had last seen each other years ago when Mady had confessed her intention to run off with Holic.

She had an hour before they were to meet at nine-thirty, and since she hadn’t been back to Groffen for three years, she decided to reacquaint herself.

As she strolled the corridors, she was reminded of the games she used to play as a child. Solitary games because she had never had any friends to play with—Kovar had called them “unwanted distractions.”

To combat the loneliness, she had become her own best friend and escaped into a pretend world. She’d imagined that she lived in a palace. Which wasn’t far from the truth—Groffen was as grand as any storybook castle. But as in most fairy tales, there was a dark cloud. That cloud had been Gerda, Kovar’s assistant.

Gerda had been a real-life storybook witch. A cruel woman with a bitter disposition, man-size hands and bad breath.

With any luck the witch was dead, Nadja thought as she found the stairs that led to the fourth floor and a block of rooms where she had lived with Kovar. She didn’t go up; instead her gaze shifted to the stairway leading down to the lower level. If she followed it she would come to a locked door with a sign on it that read Private. It was Kovar’s own personal entrance to After Shock, the exotic pleasure den and gaming hall he’d designed for those vacationers with the right credentials who wanted a little extra fun and were willing to pay for it.

The secret door bypassed the Two Winters nightclub, and was used primarily for Kovar and his personal friends. It was the kind of place a man like Holic Reznik would like, Nadja thought suddenly. Yes, it was exactly the kind of place for a man with a certain taste.

And if he wasn’t staying somewhere at the lodge, then he might be up on Tulay Pass in a private chalet or in one of the cabins higher up on Glass Mountain.

Nadja headed back through the grand lobby and entered the viewing room where guests could watch skiers coming down the mountain. There was nothing to compare to it—Groffen’s room of glass with its plush seating and high-powered telescopes.

Her grandfather had designed the room specifically with her in mind so he could watch her practice on the slopes. Day after day, he would sit there and make notes—then they would discuss her mistakes at mealtime. There were lectures and critiques, a schedule to keep, and discipline. After all, they were striving for perfection in all things.

She scanned the room, surprised when she saw Kovar with his wild gray hair seated at a table near a bank of windows. She skirted the room, curious as to why he would be there. He’d retired from teaching years ago.

She had no wish to speak to him, but she kept moving closer anyway. Feigning interest in the skiers who were enjoying the two feet of fresh powder that had fallen during the storm, she acted like a vacationer.

She strolled behind him, and as she moved past she decided he had lost weight. She glanced over his shoulder to the computer screen in front of him, not expecting to see herself on the screen. She was fifteen, there was a trophy in her hand and she recognized the surroundings—Zurich, a few years before the accident.

Mistakes number three through nine had all been made in a matter of seventy-two hours. Royally fucked was the term that best described what Nadja had done to him…again.

Bjorn swore, then glanced at the clock. It read seven-thirty, the fire was out and Nadja was gone.

He pulled on his clothes, packed his duffel and left the loft with the scent of Alpine heather on his skin and his ill mood out in front of him a good ten feet. Ten minutes later he entered the main lodge and went straight to the desk where Rune Stein was bidding a pleasant good-day to a group of skiers.

“Say, Stein,” Bjorn began, “you seen my wife?”

“Your wife…uh, yes, I did. Fixed her up with a car. Should be
dere
by now.”

“And where would that be?”

“She was going to Zell am See. I told her she should wait a few hours but it seemed important that she leave as soon as possible. I sent her behind a plow at six-thirty. It was the best I could do.”

“Is the road open to Groffen?”

“Groffen? She didn’t mention going to Groffen. But I imagine it is. Busy place, Groffen.”

“How far is it from here?”

“Forty miles to Groffen. But your wife’s driving to Zell am See. That’s about thirty miles from here. On a good day you could get
dere
in a long half hour. But today, I’d say closer to an hour. Following the plow would slow her down some, but it was the safest way to travel. That’s what I told her. I asked her if she didn’t think she ought to wait for you, but she said you weren’t feeling well. Are you feeling better now?”

“Better,
ja.
” Bjorn forced the words from his mouth. Damn her to hell, he thought. “Do you have another rental car available?”

“I’ve got two, besides the one your wife took. One’s already gone, but the other one is scheduled to leave in…” He checked the daybook. “Twenty minutes. The good news is it’s headed that way, and there’s available seating. Maybe the women wouldn’t mind giving you a lift.”

The women didn’t mind, and Bjorn volunteered to drive. After pacing the lobby for thirty-nine minutes—two of the women were late—they made it to Zell am See in under an hour.

From there Bjorn rented a Jeep and sped north to Groffen Lodge, cursing Nadja the entire way.

Lost in thought, Nadja jumped when a hand touched her shoulder. She was standing at a window gazing out over the snowy mountain slopes, and she spun around.

It was Mady who stood in front of her. She hadn’t seen her sister in a number of years, but she had no trouble recognizing her. She was still beautiful, her blond hair long and simply styled the way she had worn it years ago.

But there was one change that Nadja noticed—the night Mady had left she had been brimming with excitement, her eyes sparkling with desire for the man who had swept her off her feet. But there was no longer the glow of newfound love dancing in her doe-brown eyes.

“I thought, no, that can’t be Nadja. But of course it’s you. Kovar has a picture of you by his bed, and an album on his coffee table.” Mady stepped forward and openly hugged Nadja. “You look wonderful.”

“So do you,” Nadja said, although she was concerned with how thin her sister was.

“I expected you sooner. But then—”

“You were expecting me?”

“It’s been five months since Kovar’s heart attack. I just thought—”

Nadja glanced across the room at her grandfather. He’d had a heart attack? When?

Suddenly it all made sense. Kovar’s canceled trips to Prague the past six months. His brief conversations on the telephone.

“I know you’re busy. Still, I was surprised that you didn’t answer any of my messages. When I mentioned it to Kovar, he said you represent an international insurance agency and that you’re required to travel a lot.”

Nadja went along with the lie. “I’m rarely home,” she said.

“That’s why I started leaving those updates.”

“The updates… Uh…yes, the updates. Thank you.”

“I hope I didn’t get too carried away. But I was sure you would want to know the details, as well as his prognosis.”

There had been no messages on her phone. No details or prognosis reports. Or if there had been, someone had seen to it that they were erased. Had Polax been that someone? Or had Kovar taken it upon himself to hire someone to keep his illness a secret from her? Kovar, she believed. He had the manpower. But why? Why hadn’t he wanted her to know he’d had a heart attack?

Nadja slipped into the game. Actually it was perfect—she’d use Kovar’s heart attack as her reason for coming home.

“I wanted to come sooner,” she said. “I really did, Mady.”

“I know. You and Kovar were always so close. It must have been hard to stay away. But your cards and flowers were appreciated. Kovar looked forward to them.”

She hadn’t sent flowers, or any cards, but Nadja never contradicted her sister. She just listened.

“I imagine it’ll be hard for you to see him like this. But let me assure you that he’s doing much better, and the doctor expects a full recovery.” She motioned to where he sat. “Have you seen him, yet?”

“No, I—”

“He’s had a recent setback. Blood clots in his legs. That’s why he’s in the wheelchair.”

Nadja looked at Kovar. How had she missed the wheelchair?

She stepped around Mady, having no choice now but to face him. She crossed the room as if eager to see him, coming to stand on the other side of the small table, then waiting until her grandfather looked up from the computer.

When he did, his eyes widened. “Nadja, what an unexpected surprise.”

She studied his face, noted his pale complexion, his sunken cheeks. He spun the chair away from the table, and that’s when she saw his swollen ankles and the slippers on his feet.

Before Mady joined them, Nadja quickly rounded the table and bent down so that when she spoke, only he would hear her. He angled his face, lifted his cheek, expecting the kiss he had always required of her. But she never put her lips on him.

Instead, for his ears only, she whispered, “I just learned that you suffered a heart attack months ago. Of course Mady believes that I knew about it. Don’t worry, I’ll play your game, whatever the hell it is, but I
will
have answers.” She straightened. “Nonetheless, I speak from my heart when I say, it’s good to see you Kovar…doing so poorly.”

“Ruger moved to Italy, Nadja. I’m surprised he didn’t write you and tell you that,” Mady said.

“Where in Italy?”

“Somewhere near Verona.”

“Do you have his address?”

“Kovar does.”

They were sitting at a table in the
kaffeehaus,
and Kovar was back upstairs resting. He had suddenly complained of being exhausted, and although Mady had no idea what had prompted the lie and put him in such a sour mood, Nadja had enjoyed seeing his lips thin and his knuckles turn white in his lap.

Now sipping
mélange,
she listened to Mady as she talked about their brother.

“He’s been terribly distraught since the scandal. Kovar suggested that distance would help, and he pulled some strings to get Ruger a new position in Italy.”

“The scandal?”

“You didn’t know about the child?”

Nadja felt a lump swell her throat. “The child?”

“Ruger’s daughter. He had an affair a few years ago. He managed to hide the child with the help of a nun, but then eight months ago someone at the parish found out and…well, when the scandal surfaced, Ruger was faced with excommunication from the church. That’s when Kovar stepped in and fixed things.”

“Fixed things?”

“He went to Innsbruck, paid off the church to keep the scandal quiet, then found work for Ruger in Italy.”

“And the child?”

“Kovar brought Alzbet here.”

“Alzbet? The child is here?”

“And doing very well, though she does miss Ruger. Don’t feel bad about being kept in the dark. I didn’t know about any of this until Kovar had his heart attack a few months ago and he called me in Otz to come to Groffen to help out.”

“You’ve been living in Otz?”

“Part of the time. We remodeled the mountain cabin and made it more of a home. You remember the cabin, don’t you? I took you there with me once before Holic and I went away together? Anyway, that’s how we came to be here—Kovar’s heart attack and Ruger’s daughter. But now that we are, I’m hoping we can stay. Kovar’s asked me if I will. He’d like me to take over managing the lodge. And of course there’s Alzbet to think about. She needs a female influence in her life.”

“When did you say he brought her here?”

“She’s been at Groffen since Ruger left for Italy. It must be seven months now.”

The time frame fit, Nadja thought. “So you’ve been taking care of her.”

“I have help. Mrs. Enders is still here. You remember Gerda, don’t you?”

Nadja’s stomach knotted. The witch was still alive. “I spend as much time as I can with Alzbet, but it’s not enough. But my daughter’s here. She and Alzbet have become close.”

“Prisca is here, too?”

“Oh, yes. She loves it here almost as much as I do.”

“And Holic? Does he like it here?”

“He thinks—uh…he’s not here at the moment. Off on business. I’m so anxious for you to meet my daughter. I’ve told her about you, and she’s seen Kovar’s pictures of you. Prisca is nineteen now, and she looks so much like Holic that I told him—”

He was there…somewhere. If not at the lodge, then somewhere in the mountains.

Nadja wasn’t sure just how much of his deadly business Holic had shared with his wife. He had shared something, though; otherwise her sister wouldn’t be talking in broken sentences and fidgeting in her chair.

“Aunt Mady, help! Don’t let her catch me.”

At the sound of a child’s voice Nadja turned her head to see a little girl with silky white-blond hair running through the
kaffeehaus
toward the table where they sat. The minute the child reached them she dove beneath the table.