Countdown by Iris Johansen Page A

gift from a con man like me, but you may find it uncomfortable as hell.” He turned and headed for the cockpit. “Too bad. Live with it.”
             
    I t’s like something from Macbeth ,” Jane murmured as the car glided toward the huge stone castle on the cliff overlooking the sea. “Very dark and moody.”
    “But it’s got modern plumbing,” Bartlett said. “One can put up with dark and moody if you can have a hot shower every day.”
    “You have a point,” Trevor said. “There’s a lot to say about the delights of an efficient hot-water heater. But that isn’t why I leased MacDuff’s Run.”
    “Why did you?” Jane asked.
    “A number of reasons. It’s an interesting property. It was built by Angus MacDuff back in 1350, and the family has a fascinating history. Unfortunately, they recently fell on hard times and have had to rent out the place. It’s private, easily protected, and we were able to move in and out of the area without nosy neighbors asking questions. The people in the village believe in keeping to themselves.” He glanced at Brenner, who was driving the car. “Though Brenner’s been doing more moving than I have lately. I stashed the scrolls in several different areas after I took them away from Dupoi, and he had to be very careful retrieving them.”
    “You mean smuggling them.”
    “She does believe in calling a spade a spade,” Brenner murmured. “I prefer to refer to it as Trevor’s salvaging operation.”
    “I don’t believe the Italian government regards these artifacts as salvage.” She turned to Trevor. “What have you been doing here if Brenner has been doing all the fetching and carrying for you?”
    “Oh, I’ve been hanging around the place doing research and keeping an eye on Mario.”
    “The translator? You don’t trust him either?”
    “I didn’t say that. He just requires watching.” He reached for his phone and dialed a number. “We’re nearing the Run, James. Is everything okay? . . . Good. I’ll talk to you later.” He hung up and said to Brenner, “We’re still under surveillance but there’s not been any move from Grozak since I left. That could change anytime once he knows Jane’s here. Make sure security is doing its job.”
    Brenner nodded. “I’ll do a round after I drop you off.”
    “Security?” Jane glanced around the barren terrain. “I don’t see any security.”
    “If you did, I’d fire them.” Trevor smiled as they passed through the gate and pulled up before the massive front door of the castle. “You’ll meet several locals who guard the castle proper, but the outlying sentries are ex-marines who specialize in not being seen until it’s too late.”
    “And all this is to keep Grozak away from you,” she said slowly. “It seems a little . . . overkill. You believe he wants the scrolls that bad?”
    “I believe he wants what the scrolls may lead him to.” He met her gaze. “And, no, it’s not overkill.” He got out of the car and held out his hand to help her. “Come in and—” He stopped, his gaze going beyond her. “Well, well, I believe you’re going to meet MacDuff,” he murmured. “I hope you appreciate the honor.”
    She turned her head to follow his gaze. A tall, muscular man was crossing the courtyard toward them. As he drew closer, she realized that he was in his mid-thirties, with an olive complexion and pale eyes, but she couldn’t tell whether they were gray or blue in this dim light. His dark hair was pulled back from his face and he reminded her of someone. . . . No, she couldn’t think of who it was. He was dressed in casual slacks and a crewneck sweater, but there was nothing casual about his demeanor. Guarded. Yes, every muscle of his body breathed wariness. “Who is he?”
    “The laird. The earl of Cranought, lord of MacDuff’s Run. John Angus Brodie Niall . . . I forget the other names.” Trevor smiled at the man as he reached them. “Would you care to elaborate,