“Or you could come up with a bonanza,” Caleb said. “I’d bet on you. I’ve always said you have great instincts.”

Why did those words give her such a sense of pride? In just a few sentences, he’d been able to lighten the depression that was starting to blanket her. It shouldn’t have meant that much to her. It indicated a power she didn’t want to give him.

“But on the other hand, no one has ever said I’m a particularly good gambler. So you’d better disregard any opinion I might have.”

Clever. He’d sensed her rejection of his words and immediately set out to dissipate any damage. “That shouldn’t be a problem.”

He smiled. “I didn’t think so.” He looked out the window. “Then you might as well ignore me entirely until we get back to the inn. Try to rest.”

WHEN THEY REACHED THE INN, they went directly to Jane’s room.

Jock handed Jane her key after unlocking her door. “I’ll go to my room and call Venable. I should be back in five or ten minutes.”

Jane nodded. “Whatever it takes.” She wearily rubbed the back of her neck. “I think we’re going to need him. And ask him if he can trace any Syrian connection between Adah Ziller and Millet. Dammit, I was hoping that we’d get Weismann tonight.”

“Almost,” Jock said. “Next time.”

After he left, Jane went to the window and looked down into the hotel grounds. “It’s getting light.” She glanced at Caleb, who was sitting in a chair across the room watching her. “Dawn.” It seemed a long time ago that they’d talked about dawn and how darkness could be a weapon.

A weapon he hadn’t used. Weismann had been the one using weapons and dispensing ugliness and death. “Before tonight I wasn’t really thinking about Weismann in the same terms as those other monsters in the group. He was an informer, it seemed to make him better somehow. I wasn’t thinking straight. He’s a killer. He’s just as bad. Maybe worse.”

“Certainly as ruthless. Perhaps not quite as bloody.”

“Blood.” She looked at him over her shoulder. “You know all about blood, don’t you?”

“Enough.” He met her eyes. “I know how to take it. I know how to use it to kill. Do you really want to delve into my murky past? If you do, I’ll oblige you. But it’s not a confidence I’d make lightly. There would be a price to pay. Are you prepared to pay it?”

She couldn’t tear her gaze from his. Why had she started this? She was tired and on an emotional edge, and the words had just tumbled out. Her curiosity and fascination with Seth Caleb had always been just been beneath the surface, ready to break free whenever she was with him.

“Are you?” he repeated softly.

Heat. That undercurrent of breathless recklessness. The exhilaration of walking too close to the precipice and wanting to plunge off into the unknown.

Yes. Any price. Just make it worth the cost.

Don’t say those words. She would regret it.

Or would she?

She forced herself to look away. Clear your head. It was only because she was disappointed and depressed because they’d not intercepted Weismann that she’d felt this compulsion. She wasn’t the type of person to indulge in recklessness. “I’m not that interested.”

“Liar,” he murmured. “You’re as curious about knowing everything about me as I am about you.” He smiled. “I almost had you, didn’t I?”

“No.” It wasn’t the truth. She had been very close, but to admit it would be a step nearer to that precipice. She changed the subject. “What did you find in the office?”

He reached in his jacket pocket. “Two first-class airline tickets to Syria, for Adah Ziller and a Harry Norbert.”

“Norbert?”

“Weismann wouldn’t have booked under his own name. He probably has a few other phony passports.” He threw the tickets on the table. “The reservations are for tomorrow. But he won’t be using them after what happened tonight.”

“Anything else?”

“A couple keys. They were in an envelope with the tickets. They both are to a safety-deposit box at a bank in Zurich, together with account access information for Adah Ziller.”

“She had a Swiss account?”

“She had a number of important lovers. Maybe she kept track of letters and valuable memorabilia that might come in handy later.”

“Blackmail?”

“Possibly. Or maybe she put something in her deposit box for safekeeping for Weismann. But at least we have a place to start. A Swiss bank. Syria.”

“That’s a pretty lame start. There are too many holes to fill in.”

“Not so many. Maybe whatever you turned up might help to fill them.”

“That would be too lucky.” She pulled out the leather book she’d stuffed in her pocket. “This was tucked in a pocket in her suitcase. It looks like a daytimer or a journal.” She flipped open the pages. “Dammit, it’s not in English.”

“She was a Syrian.” He stood up and took the leather book and glanced at it. “Arabic.”

“Can you read it?”

“No, but I know someone who can. It’s not the first time I’ve had to have her interpret for me. She speaks twelve languages and is very discreet.”

“But is she close by?”

“She lives across the border in Switzerland. We’ll stop on our way to Zurich.”

“We’re going to Zurich? You think we can get into that safety-deposit box?”

“That’s the least of our problems.”

It seemed a huge problem to Jane. But it was clearly a necessity with which they’d have to deal.

“Anything else?” Caleb asked.

She pulled out the chamois pouch. “This was stuffed in the back of her jewelry box. Most of the jewelry in it was costume. She probably kept the good stuff in a safe.”

“Or a safety-deposit box.”

“Well, this was pushed in the back. I don’t believe its jewelry.” She opened the strings and emptied the contents on the table.

Two coins.

Small, silver, edges worn and chipped, incredibly old.

Jane frowned. “What are they?”

“I may be able to help a little but not much,” Caleb said. “My uncle was a collector, and he left me his collection when he died. But it was never my cup of tea.” He picked up one of the coins. “Old. Coined somewhere in the Middle East about A.D. 5. Pretty common. I saw quite a few in my uncle’s collection. I wouldn’t think it would be worth much.”

“Maybe that’s why she kept it with her costume jewelry.” She frowned. “But why keep it at all? Even her costume pieces looked as if they were good quality and worth something.”

He shrugged. “Maybe sentimental value? We’ll have to find out.”

“If it’s worth finding out. Perhaps I just grabbed the wrong items to-”

Jock knocked on the door and entered. “Venable said that it was probably too late for him to do anything, but he’d explore the situation. He wasn’t pleased that we hadn’t told him we had a lead on Weismann.” He glanced at the coins on the table. “What are those?”

“Coins she found in Adah Ziller’s room,” Caleb said. “Very old. Also, we came up with airline tickets to Syria, a safety-deposit box in Zurich, and a leather book that we can’t read because it’s in Arabic. Now you’re completely caught up.”

“Thank you,” Jock said dryly. “For what it’s worth.” He turned to Jane. “We can’t be sure the police won’t trace us back here. We were a little too visible. I vote for not waiting until later to move. I think we should pack up and get out of here.”

“So do I.” Jane turned and strode toward the suitcases she’d set against the far wall. “How long will it take us to get to Zurich?”

“Six hours or so,” Caleb said. “Perhaps a little longer since we have to stop and have Lina translate that book.”

“Lina? She’s the one who does your translating?”

“Lina Alsouk. Yes, she’s very good.”

“But is she fast? Can we get to Zurich before the close of the banking day?”

“Maybe. We’ll work something out.”

“That sounds a little too casual to me,” Jane said. “If you’ll recall, I’m on something of a deadline.” She shook her head as she realized what she had said. “Deadline. Dead end. There are so many phrases that have to do with death. They couldn’t be more descriptive, could they?”