In Search of the Dove Read online

  “Thank you.”

  “Now that I know you’re on board, I’ll bring Michael up to date on the new developments, and we will be prepared to move on as soon as you arrive.”

  Shortly after he’d signed off, the plane landed at Dulles International Airport, where Jessica and Eden were met by the Aviary’s courtesy van and driven to the Peregrine’s Berryville headquarters.

  As a resident of the carefully preserved city of Annapolis, which had become a thriving center of commerce more than two hundred years ago, Jessica was no stranger to colonial charm. But she still wasn’t quite prepared for the splendor of the Aviary, which rivaled the best Maryland’s capital had to offer. Even more impressive, she knew from Eden that the country inn had been restored with strictly private funds.

  The Peregrine staffer had also been quite good at providing a thumbnail sketch of Constance McGuire, Gordon’s assistant and confidante. When the willowy, gray-haired woman came down the steps to greet them, Jessica felt almost as if they’d already met.

  Connie’s first words were for the psychologist. “So, Eden, your persuasive talents are still intact,” she remarked.

  Turning to Jessica, she offered her hand. “Let me add my welcome to the one I know Amherst has already extended.”

  Inside the Georgian mansion, the atmosphere wasn’t quite so cordial. As Constance led them down the wide center hall, Jessica could hear an angry voice. It belonged to Michael Rome.

  “I think it’s a stupid idea to send an amateur like her into that jungle down there.”

  “Michael, you’re not thinking—you’re just reacting.”

  As Jessica entered the conference room, the DEA agent caught sight of her, and his face softened for just a moment.

  The newcomers pulled up seats at the large table where the two men sat. After a moment’s hesitation Jessica took the chair opposite Michael.

  It was impossible for him to keep his eyes off her. She wore the navy-and-yellow Indian print dress and distinctive brass necklace that he had first seen her in. Over the past few days she’d been on his mind a lot, and not just because he was writing reports that included the information she’d given him. But until a half hour ago, he’d been telling himself that it was best for her if he never saw her again.

  Now, here she was back in his life, as fresh-faced and appealing as she’d ever been. Damn. He was suddenly irrationally happy, buoyant. He squared his shoulders, struggling to suppress his emotions.

  “How are you, Jess?” His voice was strained and a bit husky.

  “All right. And you?” She studied the face that was so familiar and yet so remote. In this elegant setting, he’d chosen to wear faded jeans and a chambray work shirt with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The outfit made him appear more uncompromising than ever. Yet the way his gray eyes darkened when he looked at her told her as much as the tense set of his shoulders.

  “I’m okay. I’m sorry I couldn’t come to your brother’s funeral.”

  “I understand. Eden explained that you were called back here.”

  They were both very aware that the other people in the room were observing the encounter.

  “We were just discussing your role in this operation,” Gordon informed her. “I think we all agree that our first priority is to rescue Jed Prentiss—and Gilbert Xavier, if possible. And since you’ve already established a link with Jed, I’m hoping you’ll be able to fill us in on some of our intelligence gaps.”

  “It wasn’t much of a link,” Michael cut in. “Just something that was mixed in with what was happening with me. Maybe she’s lost it. And if she has, there’s no reason to involve her further.”

  The Falcon gave his operative a considering look. “A good point. Perhaps we should test the hypothesis right now.” He turned back to Jessica. “Would you be willing to try to reestablish communication with our agent on Royale Verde?”

  Jessica looked around at the four faces registering various states of curiosity and anxiety. “I’m really not used to—”

  “An audience,” Eden supplied. “I’m sure you’d be more comfortable in my office.”

  “Quite right.” The Falcon turned back to Jessica. “I understand you like to work with personal possessions of the individual you’re trying to envision.”

  “Yes.” She appreciated his straightforward approach. This wasn’t like working with the police who’d been half in awe, half suspicious of her.

  “Apparently Talifero had Jed’s luggage taken from his room. But he’d left his passport at the hotel desk, and I had an agent down there retrieve and send it.” He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small blue book with the gold U.S. seal. “Would you like to use it?”

  “Thank you. That should be very helpful.”

  The Falcon looked at Jessica expectantly, but she didn’t reach for the document.

  “I, uh, I’d rather not touch it until I’ve been able to clear my mind.”

  Eden took the passport. “Maybe we’re pushing you too hard. Do you want to rest for a while?”

  “I’d like her to do it now while she’s under some stress,” Michael cut in.

  In response to his combative tone, everyone’s head swung in his direction.

  He shrugged. “Out in the field she’s not going to be able to take a nap when we need some information.”

  Jessica gave him a measured look. “All right, I’ll see what I can do now.”

  “I’ll come along,” Michael insisted.

  Eden raised an eyebrow.

  “I’ve seen what can happen when she does this. You haven’t,” he answered her unspoken question.

  “Is that all right with you?” Eden asked Jessica.

  She nodded.

  The psychologist led the way down to the lower level of the building that housed Peregrine support activities. Her office was off a cheerful sitting room at the end of the hall.

  “I’d like you to wait outside,” she informed Michael, gesturing toward one of the leather armchairs.

  “Keep the door ajar.”

  Eden hesitated.

  “I won’t interfere unless I’m needed,” the DEA agent assured her.

  Eden glanced at Jessica. Again, the other woman nodded her assent.

  Looking resigned, Michael lowered his angular frame into one of the chairs and reached for a magazine on the coffee table.

  Inside Eden’s office, Jessica glanced around with interest. In addition to the wide desk and leather swivel chair, there were several padded armchairs and a comfortable-looking couch.

  Eden pulled the door almost closed. “Where would you like to sit?”

  “A chair would be fine.”

  “It would be helpful if I could record this. Would you mind?”

  “I don’t think it will interfere.”

  Jessica seated herself in a light-green armchair. Eden put the passport on the table beside her. “Whenever you’re ready, then.”

  The other young woman looked at the document and flexed her fingers. They felt hot and tingly, and the same sense of apprehension that had assailed her when she’d seen the voodoo charms washed over her now. She took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly, making her mind a blank. Then she reached out and picked up the small blue book.

  When there was no immediate reaction, the tight muscles in her shoulders relaxed a bit. Maybe Michael was right. Maybe her thoughts of Jed Prentiss had been just a fluke. Opening her mind, she tried to coax a picture. She had the feeling of great distance.

  “He’s so far away,” she murmured. “There are miles of water between us—and walls and barriers.”

  None of her previous psychic experiences had been like this. All at once she felt as if she were traveling above the earth, not in an airplane but on the very air currents themselves. She saw ocean waves lapping gently on a curved shoreline. After what seemed a long while, she swooped closer to the ground where she looked down on white stucco walls surrounded by tropical vegetation and armed guards. Then she was sail
ing over the walls and moving toward a two-story Spanish-style building with a red tile roof.

  Unaccountably, her vision seemed to take her right through the wall of the building and into a stuffy, windowless room furnished only with a padded table. She felt as if she were hovering somewhere near the ceiling, looking down on the empty scene.

  As she watched, the door was flung open and two burly attendants dragged a prisoner into the room. He was a tall man with light-brown hair and broad shoulders. When he struggled against his guards, one held his arms while the other casually delivered a blow to his abdomen with a billy stick. Though she had never seen the prisoner before, she knew immediately that it was Jed Prentiss.

  It took a rain of blows to quiet him. But finally the two men strapped him down on the table with his arms and legs secured to metal rings at the corners. The sight of his athlete’s body abused so harshly made her want to squeeze her eyes shut. But she wasn’t seeing this with her eyes.

  One of the guards left and returned a moment later with a hypodermic.

  “This is your last chance, buddy. Are you sure you don’t want to talk?”

  The prisoner shook his head.

  “The tricarbotane will make you wish you had.” With that he swabbed some alcohol on the man’s arm and plunged the needle into his vein.

  The door closed with a loud clank. The man on the table was alone, and Jessica felt her disembodied self descending toward him. Some instinct toward self-preservation made her struggle against the contact. She watched in horror as his features contorted in a grimace of pain. His teeth clamped together, and she knew it was to hold back a scream.

  But the need to help him pulled her forward. She had to reach out toward him. As she did, an invisible barrier gave way, and all at once she felt herself sucked forward with a rush. Her own face contorted as her consciousness merged with his. There was no thought in his mind—in her mind—except agony. And it swallowed her up as well. God, her whole body was on fire from the inside out. Acid was pumping through her veins. She felt herself drowning in it, consumed.

  A piercing scream escaped from her throat and her hand clenched around the passport. Eden was on the other side of the desk in an instant. But as quickly as she moved, she didn’t get to Jessica before Michael had burst through the door.

  He swore and grasped her by the shoulders. “Jess, what’s happening? Come back.”

  She screamed again, spasms sweeping over her in giant waves. Her eyes were wide and staring, but she saw neither Michael nor Eden.

  “Let go of the damned passport,” he ordered. She was incapable of obeying.

  Steely fingers grasped her hand and pried the twisted document from her grasp. As he pulled it free, the pain stopped abruptly and she sagged in the chair. Reaching down, he scooped her up and took her to the couch, cradling her on his lap.

  Even as he held her close against him and soothed his fingers across her back and shoulders, he was looking accusingly at Eden. “Can’t you see what this kind of thing does to her?” he rasped.

  Jessica stirred against him.

  “It’s all right. Relax. You’re safe now,” he murmured.

  She closed her eyes and burrowed into his warmth, rubbed her face against his shirt, inhaled the familiar scent of his body.

  “Michael.”

  “What is it?”

  “Thank you.”

  For several more minutes he simply held her. Then he shifted her body so that he could search her face. He waited until her breathing had returned almost to normal.

  “Can you tell me what happened?” he questioned softly.

  “Jed. I found Jed. It was horrible.”

  “What?”

  “They injected him with something called tricarbotane.”

  “Bastards!”

  “Tricarbotane?” Eden questioned.

  “A drug the Russians developed in the sixties,” Michael answered, his voice scathing. “The substance has no medical value. It puts victims in agony for hours but doesn’t leave any physical effects—except an urge to talk to prevent further treatments.”

  Eden rubbed her forehead. “I didn’t know the name, but I’ve heard the experience described.” She knelt beside Jessica. “Are you all right?”

  “I saw them give it to Jed. I wanted to help him, but I couldn’t do anything except feel his pain.”

  “Your mind merged with his?” Eden asked.

  “Yes. I couldn’t stop myself.”

  Michael swore. “That’s all the more reason why you should stay out of this, Jessica.”

  The woman he held cradled in his arms raised her flushed face so that she could meet his eyes. “It doesn’t matter whether or not I go down there with you, Michael. I’m already in it.”

  * * *

  THE TROPICAL EVENING was rich with the fragrance of island flowers. Moonshadow had wandered out into the garden, sure that the guest of honor would follow.

  He caught up with her beside a small pond where bronze pelicans dipped their large beaks between the lily pads.

  “I’ve been intrigued by you all evening,” he murmured.

  “I think the feeling is mutual.”

  She leaned over to trail her graceful fingers in the water. When a large goldfish came up to investigate her ruby nails, she laughed softly, her voice like silver bells in the moonlight.

  Gorlov sat down beside her on the low stone wall, inhaling her intoxicating scent.

  Through long dark lashes, she gazed up at him. “But you’re such a man of mystery.”

  “How so?”

  “I sense that you have more power than you pretend, and I’m attracted to power.”

  He didn’t deny her supposition. “And I am attracted to beauty. Yours matches that of any goddess.” He was surprised at the poetry she had inspired. But then he’d been thinking all evening that he’d like to slide the caftan off her bronze shoulders and find out if she were as beautiful all over as he suspected. “I’ve never met a woman quite like you,” he added.

  “And you are beyond my experience too. Different. Very intellectual. Quite foreign, I think. You’re not really from Brazil, are you?”

  He hesitated.

  “I never make love to a man unless I know his real name.” As she spoke, she reached up to run a ruby nail down the ruffles of his dress shirt. She sensed the instant reaction of his body to both the words and the intimate gesture.

  “Feliks,” he supplied.

  “A Slavic name?” Her dark eyes held his gaze and her hands smoothed more firmly across the front of his shirt, a cellist tuning a new instrument.

  “No. Russian.” His voice was thick and husky.

  Russian. Now she could hear the accent that years of training had hidden. Very interesting, she thought. Through the ruffles, her fingers traced tiny circles on his bare chest. She could feel his level of sensual tension increasing.

  “Feliks, I believe that you and I will become very good friends tonight.”

  Impatiently he reached for her, his mouth descending to hers like a vulture. In that moment she knew that he was going to be a selfish lover. But her own pleasure was of little importance tonight. This man had some kind of hold over Talifero, and she was going to call upon all her powers to find out what it was.

  “Shall we go back to your room?” he questioned huskily.

  So he wasn’t aware of the TV cameras. She didn’t care who might be watching, but she didn’t want anyone to hear what they might say. “No,” she whispered, taking his hand. “Come down into the summer house where the magic of the night and the fragrance of the garden will be all around us.”

  * * *

  MICHAEL’S SHOULDERS were rigid as he turned back to face Eden. “Don’t I get any say in who I work with on this rescue operation? I don’t want Jessica along.”

  “Why not, Michael?” she whispered.

  He didn’t answer.

  “There’s more working here than your concern for her safety,” Eden interjected.


  “Don’t push me,” he warned the psychologist.

  Eden sighed. “Michael Rome, you’re one of Peregrine’s best operatives, but you’re not being very logical about this mission. I can see now that I made a mistake by not getting you to tell me more about what happened in Greece three years ago.”

  Michael started toward the door.

  Before he reached it, Jessica jumped up and put a restraining hand on his shoulder. “It has to do with Laura, doesn’t it?” she asked quietly.

  He whirled to face her. “Damn it, stay out of my head.”

  “Then tell us about it.”

  His hands balled into fists, and he sucked air into his lungs. For several moments the room was silent. Then he looked from one woman to the other. “All right, if it will make you understand how crazy this idea is, I will.”

  “Michael, I don’t want to just hear your filtered version,” Jessica said softly.

  “What other kind of version is there? She’s dead. I don’t suppose you communicate with ghosts. Or shall we all hold hands and conduct a seance?”

  She shook her head tightly. “No. I don’t do that sort of thing. But I’m getting better at projecting my mind. If you don’t put up a barrier against it, I think I can go back there with you and see for myself what happened.”

  He closed his eyes. “Jessica, haven’t you had enough torture for one afternoon?”

  “I want to help you.” She sat down on the couch again. “Come back here beside me.”

  Wearily he obeyed. “I don’t think you’re going to get very far.” He gave Eden a quick glance. “You see, I don’t remember exactly what happened.”

  “Michael, I suspected that. It’s not unusual. It’s a trick the mind uses to protect itself from trauma. But unfortunately, the pain comes out in other ways.”

  He pressed his lips together.

  Jessica took his hand. It was ice cold.

  “Try to relax. Think about the mission—and how it ended.”

  “You’re not going to like it.”

  “That’s not important,” Eden interjected.

  “I can’t fight both of you. If you two signed up as an interrogation team, you could break any Soviet agent alive.”