The Temptation of Four Read online

  Like today. I spotted the familiar head of short-cropped fawn-brown hair almost instantly. Garrett wasn’t making any particular effort to hide where he was leaning against the wall near the front doors, his boyishly handsome face stern with concentration as he jotted something in his ever-present notepad. Every few seconds, he glanced toward the elevators and then around the room with its marble-tiled walls and little burbling fountain.

  He was taking this job very seriously. I supposed he had to be to take time off from his actual job to track me across the continent. None of the three were happy with me, but the vibe he’d given off the other day in the pub had been outright angry.

  I had strung him along a little more than the others, even if I hadn’t promised him anything. I’d only led him on as much as was necessary, though. He could keep his hurt feelings, and I’d keep my freedom from being devoured by a shrouded one, thank you.

  If he’d been assigned to watch the front entrance, what were the chances no one was staked out in back? I wet my lips, considering. Just then, one of the young porters I’d been paying off, Jakov, pushed a cart stacked with luggage into view.

  Perfect. I caught his eye with a quick gesture and waved him over, producing a reasonable tip in kuna from my wallet.

  “Do me a quick favor?” I said, showing him the money. “One of the men who’ve been hassling me is over near the entrance. You see him, the one with the notepad? I don’t want to make a fuss, but if you could push your cart over there and act like you want to help him, ask him if there’s anything you can do for him, whatever you can think of to keep him occupied so I have a chance to leave without him bothering me, I’d really appreciate it.”

  “Of course, Ms. Matthams,” Jakov said with a smile, using the name I’d given the hotel. He looked a little guilty taking the money for that bit of work, but he did take it. It was business, after all, whether he totally understood the extent of it or not.

  Jakov set off with his cart. The second the stack of suitcases blocked Garrett’s view of the lobby, I slipped through the room and out the door. All I heard from the inspector detective was his frazzled voice saying, “No, really, I’m fine right here. I’m just waiting for someone.”

  I went the wrong way on the street, heading around the next block and doubling back, just to avoid him getting a glimpse of me out the lobby window. No one followed me. I wandered farther until I was sure I wasn’t being tailed, and then I plucked my main phone out of my purse.

  “Bash,” I said, keeping my voice low as I dodged a pack of morning shoppers. “Did you get confirmation?”

  “You were right,” Bash said on the other end. “A truck came by around two in the morning and unloaded a bunch of boxes. Novak came down to collect them personally. From the way he handled them, they were heavy.”

  I smiled. “Boxes of books would be.” A wealthy collector of rare texts, Mr. Novak placed his hobby over the law. He’d had a hand in funding the syndicate of thieves who’d been breaking into homes and shops all across the city and the surrounding county. They grabbed plenty of valuable items for themselves, but their targets always just happened to have a special book or five that they lifted too. Those never made it to the black market—they were set aside for Novak.

  Yesterday the local police had rounded up most of that gang, thanks to the trio’s meddling. They’d worked as quickly as I’d hoped. Novak had hidden his recent acquisitions in storage somewhere I hadn’t been able to determine, but the arrests had made him nervous, as intended. He’d brought all his precious texts into the safety of his home.

  Safe from police confiscation, maybe. Not safe from me.

  “Do you need any support on this one?” Bash asked.

  “No, I think it’s a one-person con,” I said. “Keep your phone where you can hear it, just in case.”

  I tucked mine away with a rush of heightened spirits. The cult of the shrouded folk kept to themselves and rarely let any record slip out of their hands, but they’d been around long enough and orchestrated enough strangeness that accounts of their activity existed here and there. I’d followed a trail of increasingly clearer references from one book to another until I’d been pointed to a book on Croatian myth and superstition of which only a handful of copies had been printed.

  The only one of those I’d been able to locate had belonged to a rare books and antiquities shop on the outskirts of Zagreb until Novak’s gang had hit it a few months ago. The volume I wanted was one of those reported stolen.

  Now I’d just have to steal it back from him. Considering I’d grown up in the damned cult and as far as I could tell he was only a dabbler in the dark arts, I had more of a right to the information than he did anyway. Taking on the commune wasn’t going to help me if I didn’t know how to use the prize they were protecting.

  I stopped at a corner to wait for an approaching tram and take another look around. The Londoners had helped my mission along, but they’d also thrown a spanner or two into the works. Thanks to John’s interruption in the cathedral, the woman I’d spent months finding and weeks coaxing into a conversation had gotten gun-shy all over again. From what I could tell from a few vague comments I’d uncovered on the internet, she’d heard stories about the commune directly, but she wasn’t willing to discuss the subject in any more depth by email or phone.

  If one of my temporary pseudo-colleagues got in my way today, I might lose my chance with Novak too. I still wasn’t sure how the trio had figured out I’d be at the cathedral in the first place.

  No one else got on the tram when I did. I watched the street behind me as I walked to a seat. They couldn’t even know I’d left the hotel. Even three against one, I could out-scheme them any day.

  In the middle of a commercial strip, I had to switch tram lines. I let the crowd of other departing passengers hustle on down the street ahead of me, leaving me some breathing room.

  As I strode past the darkened windows of a movie theater, a prickling chill raced up and down my thigh where the gold cuff was clamped around it.

  The muscle seized. My lungs constricted at the sudden shock of cold. I stumbled, and at the same moment, a gaggle of elementary school-aged kids brushed past me, one of them bumping my shoulder where I’d bent over.

  I jerked my purse close to my chest instinctively. The sensation faded like it had before, but more slowly this time. It took me several seconds before I could straighten up and keep walking, and even then my leg wobbled.

  It was getting worse. Whoever had constructed the gold cuff had designed its patterns and gems to disrupt the shrouded folk’s senses, but they hadn’t meant it to be worn for months at a time. I’d already known I didn’t want to rely on a piece of metal as a lifelong solution, but clearly I had less time to find a more permanent fix than I’d assumed.

  The brush with the kids had left my nerves jangling too. Sherlock had tracked me using his contingent of street youth back in London. What was to stop him from using similar tactics here?

  The first chance I got, I ducked into the shadows of a dusty alley where I’d be out of view from the street. First I patted down the pockets on my slacks. Then I riffled through my purse.

  There was nothing in there I didn’t recognize—not even a spare coin. And I’d done a thorough accounting after that first meeting with Sherlock at Franjo’s. I hadn’t found anything then either except a stray sugar cube that had escaped its plastic bag…

  My shoulders stiffened. It had seemed so innocuous at the time, and I hadn’t seen Sherlock get his hands anywhere near my purse besides, but maybe I’d underestimated him.

  I pulled out the baggie of sugar cubes and turned it in the thin sunlight that reached into the alley, studying them. I had a couple dozen on hand, all of which had been in my purse for at least a week. The corners of the cubes no longer poked sharply into the plastic but had dulled from scraping against each other.

  The corners on all of them, that was, except one that was still as crisply cubic as any popped fresh fr
om the box.

  I dug it out and rubbed my thumb against the gritty surface. It didn’t crumble the way a regular sugar cube would have. The glinting crystals didn’t give way until I scraped them against the brick wall beside me.

  I licked the other side and found it tasted as sweet as usual. Whatever substance Sherlock had used to keep the cube intact, it was probably sugar-based too. He’d been prepared that I might try to eat this one.

  And if I had, I might very well have simply swallowed the device inside without realizing. The sugar coated a little gelatin pill. I broke it open to find a tiny rectangle of metal that I had to assume was some kind of tracking device.

  For a minute, I just stood there staring at it. For fuck’s sake. I’d had my purse on me with the bag of sugar cubes in it every time I’d left the hotel since that first meeting with Sherlock. He’d know that I’d gone to rent the helicopter and then taken it out into the mountains. He’d be able to see where I was right now. I’d almost led him straight to Novak.

  The balls on that man. I wanted to both scream in frustration and laugh at his genius.

  My fingers tensed around the device with the longing to crush it, to destroy his ploy. I held myself back.

  No. If the signal cut out, he’d know I was on to him, and he’d turn to other tactics. Tactics I also might not pick up on right away. Better the enemy I knew than one I didn’t.

  He’d used this trick against me. Now how could I use it against him?

  A plan sprang up in my mind from the soil of everything I’d experienced in the last few days.

  My time was running out again. I didn’t know how much longer I could wear the cuff without it causing me permanent harm, and the second I took it off, Bog would zip straight over to claim the soul I was already late handing over. My own investigations into the commune had been going too slowly—but my trio had just proven that they had the connections and resources to get things done even here in Croatia. Different connections and resources than I had access to. I wouldn’t mind borrowing those.

  They’d think they were on my trail, but instead I’d put them on the trail of the place I wanted to find. Then, when they found it, I’d hop over their heads and be on my way before they knew it, just like before.

  I couldn’t have managed it by manipulating them to their faces like I had in London. They’d be too skeptical now. But if they thought they were gathering information I didn’t want them to know, they’d jump on a new lead without hesitation.

  A smile curled my lips. While no doubt applauding his own cleverness, Sherlock had handed me exactly the tool I needed.

  How could I point them in the right direction without giving too much away? They should already know I’d been scoping out the mountains for some reason. Ah, yes. That would come together nicely.

  I caught another tram, this one traveling in the opposite direction from where I’d originally been heading. In twenty minutes, I was stepping off just down the street from a small moving company with three trucks in its back lot. I circled the place and peered at the trucks for a little while so anyone tracking the device I’d tucked back into my purse had plenty of time to narrow down my location. Then I stepped into the scruffy looking building.

  The room inside and the guy behind the counter looked scruffy too. The floor creaked under my feet. The guy pushed himself straighter where he’d been leaning on his elbows reading a magazine.

  “Can I help you?” he asked in Croatian.

  I was hardly fluent, but I’d made a quick study of the language when it’d become clear this country would be our next destination. Most of the people in the city spoke decent English, but not all, and plenty in the smaller towns relied on their native language.

  “Yes, please,” I said, smoothing out my accent as much as I could. “I have a somewhat odd question to ask. It needs to be kept discrete—no talk of the job with other people. Is that possible?”

  The guy looked a little puzzled and a little curious. “I don’t see why not. What’s the job?”

  I tapped my fingers against the counter, managing not to grimace at the gritty texture. “I want to know if it’s possible to transport an entire small community across a fairly significant distance. The contents of several houses and other buildings packed up together. Much of it would need to be moved across some distance by hand. The locations are quite isolated and at a high elevation—the roads won’t reach far enough.”

  The guy’s expression shifted all the way to puzzled. “That sounds like a much larger effort than we’re equipped to handle. Where is this community?”

  “Never mind about it then,” I said quickly, taking a step back. “I thought it was worth checking. Do me a favor and forget I asked.”

  I hustled out of the office with enough speed to hopefully take him from puzzled to suspicious. Suspicious enough to not feel guilty mentioning what I’d asked him to anyone who came calling to inquire about the visit.

  Where to now? A few blocks down the street, I came across a little café wafting a sweet scent that made my stomach twinge. I bought myself a piece of custard cream cake and ate it at one of the spindly-legged tables while I contemplated my next move.

  The seed I’d just planted wasn’t likely to be enough on its own. I didn’t want to head to Novak’s today now that Sherlock might have tracked me partway there, even if I stopped back at the hotel to leave the tracking device behind. Better to let that trail go colder.

  Why not throw out a little more fishing line and see who came to play? I licked my fingers and dug out my phone again.

  “Bash—me again. I had a new thought. Meet me at the zoo? I’ll explain along the way.”

  Chapter Six

  Jemma

  The perfect meeting spot presented itself the moment I came through the zoo’s gates. One of the first enclosures stood off to one side, partly hidden by a high stone wall. Just the kind of wall someone could sneak up behind to listen to a conversation unnoticed.

  I took my place at the railing along the edge of the enclosure where I’d be in view of anyone coming into the zoo. As I took out my phone, a snow leopard prowled by on the other side of the fence. Another sprawled on a wide boulder, washing its paw and shooting wary glances toward the visitors.

  How did they feel about being stuck in that little space instead of having a whole forest to roam around in? The pacing one gave off a restless tension that resonated through me.

  Maybe someday you’ll get a chance to escape and run free too, I thought at it.

  Not that I’d completely shed my wall-less prison yet.

  Tourists and maybe a few locals drifted by with a rhythmic shuffling of feet and oohs and ahs. A little boy lost the ice cream off his cone and started sobbing. I popped an undoctored sugar cube into my mouth. As I rolled its sweetness over my tongue, I switched my phone to selfie mode and held it so I could watch the entrance behind me covertly on its screen.

  How long would it take Sherlock to send someone to check up on me? John had gotten to the cathedral no more than twenty minutes after I’d arrived. If I hadn’t gone early to scope out the layout and reassure my contact that everything looked safe, I might have been able to meet with her. But then, if I hadn’t, he might have shown up when I was still talking with her, and that would have compromised my goals so much more.

  Maybe Sherlock would come himself this time. I could turn the tables on his ploy right in front of his face.

  The thought sent a little thrill through me, but when the sunlight glanced off a strong brow and swept-back blond hair passing the gate, I smiled. John would do just fine too. As far as I could tell from the way he’d responded to me in the cathedral, he wasn’t entirely sure whether he should be hunting me or helping me. Of course he’d be the fastest out of the trio to consider forgiving.

  I saw him note my presence and then the wall behind me. Faster than anyone who used a walking stick had a right to move, he slipped out of sight. Good man.

  He’d be sidling over to
the opposite side of that wall right now. I could picture him: his careful steps to avoid alerting me, his hazel eyes lighting up with the excitement of playing spy, like a golden retriever ready to bound after a tossed ball.

  Except a golden retriever couldn’t batter a thug into running for his life. I’d rather that I never provoked the more ferocious side of Dr. John Watson that he’d shown a couple times in London, but knowing it was there made me enjoy the game even more.

  I stepped closer to my side of the wall as if to ease apart from the other zoo-goers. That was Bash’s cue to approach. He sauntered around the enclosure a minute later, his eyes shaded by a wig of distinctive bowl-cut black hair and thick sunglasses. Baggy sweats and his loose gait downplayed his muscular frame. He sure as hell wouldn’t strike anyone as a former special ops sniper right now.

  “Did you have any luck?” I asked him when he reached me, pitching my voice low but keeping it loud enough that I expected someone listening closely by the wall would make out the words.

  Bash shook his head. We’d worked out a loose script over the phone on my way here. “It’s a big job. Not the kind of thing these companies are used to dealing with—especially the ones we can trust to keep quiet about it.”

  “Damn it.”

  “Are you sure we have to move them? They’ve been running things out of that little village for ages without anyone noticing.”

  “My ‘friends’ from London weren’t here poking around before,” I said. “If they stumble on the commune, we’re screwed. A few dozen people can’t support themselves on a mountainside without leaving some kind of trail. Better to relocate them ASAP than wish we had after it’s too late.”

  “I’ll start reaching out to possibilities farther afield then,” Bash said. “You’re sure of where you want to relocate them to now?”