Amber Beach (40 page)

Mather walked into the kitchen. “I couldn’t help overhearing”, he began.

“Yeah, right”, Honor said. “That popping sound we just heard was your ear coming unstuck from the door.”

“Since it’s obvious that Miss Donovan already knew the real reason for Jake’s interest in her”, Mather said, “why don’t we tell her some things she might not know?”

Ellen tilted her head and appeared to think it over. “Sweet reason?”

“It works for some people.”

“Damned few”, Ellen said. Then she shrugged. “Go
ahead.”

“As a member of a family that is involved in international trade”, Mather said, “you are
aware
of the new world dynamic since the Berlin Wall came down.”

Honor nodded and went to the refrigerator to look for a Coke. The sandwich definitely needed help getting down her tight, dry throat. She hoped that the poker face she had learned at the hands of four sister-baiting brothers was firmly in place. She didn’t want to reveal any bleeding wounds to the pinstriped shark.

“Countries that once depended on a vast central government for order, economy, and direction were thrown without preparation into a free-market situation”, Mather said crisply. “Some nationalisms and religions took the remains of their soviet wealth and went to war. They took a big step backward fiscally. They became, or are fast becoming, Third World economies. Are you following me?”

“Tanks, bombs, and bullets alone aren’t the kind of foundation you build a new society on”, Honor said, putting the can of soda on the counter with an impatient movement. “Civilian infrastructure is the first lesson of noncommunist economies. Some of the folks over there are still learning it. The longer they wait, the farther back they slide into the swamp of soft currency, poverty, and anarchy.”

Mather looked relieved. “Good. You understand. It will save us all a lot of trouble.”

Honor doubted it. Instead of saying so, she took a bite out of her sandwich and concentrated on chewing and swallowing. “You wouldn’t know it from reading American newspapers”, Mather said, “but there are literally dozens of groups competing for power in the former Soviet Union. We only hear about the most obvious ones or the ones that…”

“We’re on a short clock”, Ellen interrupted. “The point is simple: the new Russian Federation is a collection of nuclear
bombs with their fuses lit. If the wrong people end up with the Amber Room, there’s going
to
be a nasty war. We’ll all be downwind of the fallout.”

Mather’s disappointed expression almost
made
Honor smile; he looked the way she had felt when Jake wouldn’t let her rhapsodize to the Coast Guard about the SeaSport’s big engine. Apparently the emerging former E-Bloc economies were Mather’s passion.

“Urn, yes”, Mather said. “Marju Uskhopchik-Mikniskes is a Lithuanian separatist.”

“Kyle’s Marju?” Honor asked.

“Yes. Ms. Uskhopchik-Mik…”

“Call her Jones”, Honor interrupted dryly.

Mather hesitated. “She is, or was, part of a plot to sell the Amber Room for money to use fighting Russia.”

“Tanks, bombs, and bullets?” Honor said.

“Exactly”, Ellen said. “But Marju’s playmates are out of the running now. We think they stole the Amber Room, or at least a panel of it, from the Kaliningrad
mafiya.
You’ve heard of them?”

“According to Archer, they have all the class of the Colombian cartel and twice the brutality”, Honor said. “The bad news is that they have more international connections and a broader ‘tax base’ than Yeltsin.”

“If Archer knows that, why is he holding us at arm’s length?” Mather asked impatiently. “He must know they’re after Kyle.”

Both agents looked at Honor.

“Ask Archer”, she said. “He just gives me orders, not explanations.”

“No wonder you have a smart mouth”, Ellen said. “Older brothers will do it every time.”

Smiling slightly, Honor decided that maybe she wouldn’t throw Ellen over a big cliff after all. Just a little one. Just enough to muss up her sleek hair.

“You want some salmon salad?” Honor asked.

Ellen smiled and shook her head. “Thanks, but I’m on
a diet.”

Honor cheered up even more. “That’s worse than having an older brother. How about you, Mather?”

“I’m an older brother.”

“Why am I not surprised?”

“Oh, he’s not too bad”, Ellen said, giving Mather the kind of sideways look that was guaranteed to make a man feel one hundred percent healthy. “He’s trainable.”

“So are gorillas”, Honor said. She took another bite of her sandwich, sighed, and reached for the salt.

“Has Jake told you that the Organizatsiya could be involved?” Ellen asked.

“With gorillas?” Honor asked, startled.

Mather looked at the ceiling like he expected to find God there. “No, with the Amber Room.”

“Jake mentioned the
mafiya.”

“They aren’t the same”, Ellen said. “The Organizatsiya is an export. They prey on the Russian emigrants in various countries. The
mafiya
stays home. The Organizatsiya is pretty much independent of the Old World, although they take people who are shit-listed in Russi
a and give them a s
afe place to be until the folks back home forget or are paid off. The
mafiya
repays the favor by finding work in Russia for Organizatsiya thugs who are wanted in the United States or other
countries.”

“Cozy”, Honor said. “How is the United States doing on extradition treaties with the Russian Federation?”

“We’re working on it”, Ellen said. “But the Organizatsiya and the
mafiya
aren’t the only players to be reckoned with when it comes to the Amber Room. There are several, legal, factions o
f the Russian government in the competition. There’s the Yeltsin faction, of course. One of his closest advisers is a born-again Russian natio
nalist. For him the Amber Room is the Holy Grail, a rallying point for the consolidation of Russia.”

Honor grabbed the pepper grinder and went to work on what was left of her sandwich. But she was listening carefully, and Ellen knew it.

“This adviser will do whatever he has to, however he can, in order to secure the Amber Room”, Ellen said. “And he has the backing of the legal government. The second major faction is run by the communists. They long for the bad old days. Anything that helps Yeltsin hurts them.”

“The communists would just as soon the Amber Room stayed lost?”

“For now, yes”, Mather said. “Definitely. That could change if…”

“We’ll worry about that changing when it does”, Ellen interrupted. “For now, we’ve got enough snakes on our plate.”

“Two kinds of legal Russian factions, two kinds of illegal ones”, Honor said. “Plus Lithuanian liberationists. Does that about cover it?”

“That only covers the obvious ones”, Ellen said. “There are at least five more Lithuania-first groups. None of them agree on anything except burying the local competition and then mopping up on the international scene. All across the former Soviet Union there are similar groups, both legal and not, motivated by nationalism, tribalism, religion, survival, vengeance, and/or simple greed.”

Honor grimaced. “You can’t tell the players without a scorecard.”

“In the new Russian Federation”, Ellen retorted, “they can’t print scorecards before the players change.”

Instead of responding, Honor took a bite of sandwich. None of what she had heard so far sounded like it would make finding Kyle any easier.

“At this time in the Baltic states and Russia”, Mather said, “the Amber Room is a very powerful cultural symbol. It
means something different to each group, but it means something to
every
group. Anyone who wants to curry favor with or force concessions from the Russian state wants the Amber Room as a bargaining tool.”

“And you think my brother stole it.”

“No matter who stole it”, Ellen said quickly, “Kyle is the one who stuck the hot potato in his truck and took off, leaving a dead Lithuanian driver behind.”

“Which means you think Kyle killed that man.”

“He didn’t die of a heart attack”, Mather retorted. Honor’s mouth flattened. She took another small bite of her sandwich. Salt and pepper improved the taste of the salmon salad, but nothing was going to take the dryness of fear out of her mouth. She sipped soda from the can, waited for the fizz to settle in her mouth, and swallowed again.

“Look”, she said, “Kyle hasn’t called me. He hasn’t written me. He hasn’t sent me a piece of the Amber Room.”

“What about your family?” Ellen asked.

“If they knew where Kyle was, they wouldn’t leave me dangling, wondering whether he was alive or dead or hurt or…” Honor’s voice faded. She swallowed hard and set the half-eaten sandwich aside.

Ellen’s expression said she wasn’t as sure about the Donovan clan as Honor was, but she didn’t argue the point. “Why did you come here?”

“Archer asked me to.”

“Why?”

“He didn’t say.”

Mather muttered something that sounded like “a real cluster fuck.” Beneath all the pinstripes lurked the soul of a potty-mouth street cop.

Honor didn’t even look his way. She had heard it all before, in preschool.

“Did you ask Archer?” Ellen said.

“Yes.”

“What did he say?”

“It doesn’t matter. He didn’t tell me.”

“So you packed your bags like a good little sister and came running, is that it?” Ellen asked sarcastically.

Honor went back to her original idea: Ellen, a big cliff and a long drop.

“Yes”, Honor said through her teeth. “It may be hard for you to understand, Ms. Consultant, but I love my brothers even though they often drive me nuts. That’s the way love works. When you love people, you don’t demand long explanations and justifications. You simply do what you can when they need you. It’s called loyalty.”

“It’s called stupidity”, Mather said.

“Only if you always come out holding the slimy end of the stick”, Honor retorted. “So far, the score is about even in that department, although I will never admit it within hearing of my brothers.”

“But…”

“Give it up, Ellen”, Jake said from the living room. “It’s the Donovan clan and to hell with the rest of the world.”

Honor and Mather looked toward the living room. Ellen gave a heartfelt curse before she turned around.

Jake looked like he had rolled around in a mud puddle.

“What happened to you?” Honor asked.

“I like walking in the
rain.”

“Next time take some soap and do your clothes.”

Smiling, Jake walked between the two agents and stopped in front of Honor. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. He framed her face in cool hands and kissed her. Honor stiffened, but she didn’t draw back. She sensed that he was sending a message to the U.S. government that had nothing to do with sex.

She was right. And she was also wrong. Jake’s eyes might have been remote, but he was fully aroused beneath his muddy jeans.

The stark hunger of his body, the tenderness of his kiss, and the watchfulness of his eyes undermined Honor’s certainty that all he wanted from her was a means of getting to Kyle. Off balance, almost disoriented, emotionally and physically exhausted by the past few weeks, she held on to Jake’s forearms to steady herself.

He kissed her again, less gently, more completely. When he lifted his head, his eyes were as hot and hungry as his body. There were muddy streaks on her face from his hands.

“You were right”, Mather said to Ellen.

“Told you, babe”, she said. “That slow, eat-you grin of Jake’s gets them every time.”

Honor flushed. Jake put his thumb over her mouth in a gesture that was both caress and warning.

“Sorry I was late”, he said to her, ignoring the agents. “If I’d known you had company, I would have taken a shorter
walk.”

“How long have you been here?” Honor asked.

Jake looked from her generous mouth to her breasts with their nipples hard against the soft bronze sweater, to her hips leaning toward him… and he smiled slowly, all but licking his lips. “Ellen is wrong. There’s nothing ordinary about your body.”

Honor knew she shouldn’t laugh, shouldn’t feel pleased, shouldn’t do anything but throw all three people out of her life; and she knew she wouldn’t. If she had to trust one of the three, there was no doubt which one it would be.

Until she found Kyle, she was bound to Jake Mallory as surely as if she had spoken vows.

And afterward?
Honor asked herself silently.

The answer came immediately and without comfort. She would deal with the afterward mess the same way she was dealing with the Kyle mess. One disaster at a time.

She drew a shaky breath and ran her fingertip over Jake’s mustache. “You”, she said huskily, “are a very bad dog.”