City of Jasmine. Deanna Raybourn

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СКАЧАТЬ again, and I drew up my feet. “Oh, for God’s sake, sit down before you fall over and hurt yourself.”

      “You always were thoughtful,” he said, giving me that small smile again as he settled himself at the foot of the bed. His shadow still loomed on the wall behind him, larger than life and inky black.

      “It’s not kindness. I just don’t fancy mopping up your blood. Now, where should we begin?”

      Gabriel hesitated. “I know I owe you the whole story. But now isn’t exactly a good time.”

      “I think I deserve more than evasions, Gabriel.”

      His jaw tightened. “As I said, I am aware of what I owe you, Evie. Believe me when I tell you I am not in a position to explain, at least not yet.”

      “Believe you? Veracity isn’t precisely your strong suit. You faked your own death,” I reminded him.

      “I had no choice.”

      “So you say.” My voice was pleasantly neutral and a good deal calmer than I felt. “I should so like the chance to make up my own mind about that.”

      He sighed. “I can’t discuss it just yet. I’m still making sense of it all myself. The less I involve you the better.”

      I rolled my eyes heavenward. “Then what am I doing in Damascus, Gabriel? Sending me that photograph to lure me here was your doing. The banknotes and the song at the restaurant were arranged to show me I was on the right track. And now you won’t explain why?”

      “I can’t,” he said simply. “I know it’s too much to ask you to take my word for it, but I can’t explain any of it yet.”

      “Then why am I here? And perhaps more to the point, why are you here?”

      He had the grace to look uncomfortable. “I want to make amends.”

      “Amends? Gabriel, you make amends when you play the wrong suit in a game of bridge. You cannot possibly make amends for faking your own death.”

      “Fine,” he growled. “Call it atonement, then. Penance. I did a terrible thing to you and it’s in my power to make it right, or—” he hurried on as I opened my mouth “—as right as I can. Look here, I’m not asking for forgiveness. What I did is so far beyond that it would be laughable to suggest you could ever find it in your heart, and God knows, I don’t deserve it. But I want the chance to do something for you.”

      “There is nothing on earth you could possibly—”

      He held up a hand. “Yes, there is. I’ve acquired something...valuable. But you’ll have to take my word for it.”

      “Take your word for it? Not bloody likely! Besides, if you have something for me, why not bring it here—” I broke off. “Oh, my God. You can’t bring it because you’re involved in something illegal. And that’s why you faked your own death five years ago, isn’t it? You’re a criminal.”

      He winced. “Criminal is such an ugly word. And a subjective one.”

      I opened my mouth to blast him, but he held up a hand. “Let’s not quarrel, pet. I haven’t the stamina for it just now.” He gave me an appraising look. “I must say, you’re taking this all much better than I expected,” he said, his tone mildly amused.

      “What did you expect? Hysterics? Violence?”

      “I don’t know what I expected,” he said quietly. “But you were a flighty girl when I saw you last, not this cool, composed woman who travels with a loaded pistol and plans for midnight visitors.”

      I set my chin mulishly. “I’ve grown up, Gabriel. I had to.”

      “Another sin to drop at my door,” he said lightly. But his eyes were bleak and he looked away. When he spoke again, his tone was brisk. “I can’t stay long. Matters are...complicated. I have to get back to the dig site and sort a few things out.”

      He reached into the breast pocket of his filthy khaki shirt. He drew out a small tin tobacco box and opened it, rifling through an assortment of oddities until he unearthed a grubby bit of paper. He handed it over, but I hardly liked to touch the thing it was so disgusting. “That’s the man you’ll need to see in London after I’ve brought you what it is I have to give. He will give you the money—and it will be a substantial amount,” he added.

      I placed the dirty paper carefully on the bedside table and gave him a level look. “Why me?”

      It might have been easier for him if he’d looked away, but that sharp blue gaze never wavered. “Because I hurt you. As I said, this will make amends.”

      “And you can scrape me off your conscience, is that it?”

      He went on, still never taking his eyes from my face. “I’ve no one I can trust. Except you.”

      I shook my head. “You’ve no one in the whole world you can trust except the wife you abandoned five years ago? Gabriel, that might well be the saddest thing I have ever heard.”

      He flashed me his buccaneer smile. “You have no idea. Now, will you help me?”

      “What do you need me to do?”

      “Just sit tight in Damascus. I’ve stashed my little find for safekeeping. When I am able to retrieve it, I’ll bring it here. The rest is up to you.”

      “How long will it take you? I can only stay in Damascus a fortnight. I have obligations,” I told him, thinking of the tour I had quite possibly wrecked for the sake of what might be nothing more than a chase of the wildest, goosiest variety.

      “I’ll leave first thing in the morning for the dig. A day out, a day to get my hands on the item and two days back into the city. I will deliver it to you by the end of the week, inshallah,” he added.

      “Inshallah? My God, you have changed. You were an agnostic the last time I saw you.”

      His smile was grim. “I’ve learned to hedge my bets. If I don’t show up by the start of next week, forget I ever contacted you. Just go on about your business and get out of Damascus. I’ll find another way to get the thing to you. If that’s the case, I want you to go on, sooner rather than later.” He rose to his feet in languid motion, his shadow stretching as he died.

      “How did you know where to find me?” I asked. “Where to send the photograph?”

      “Everyone knows the name Evangeline Starke. You’re famous.” He reached into his pocket for the horrid lenses and slipped them into his eyes. Next came the mouthpiece and then the stooped posture. “By the end of the week,” he promised. He slid into the darkness and left, so quietly I might have imagined he had been there at all.

      There was not even a crease where he had sat on the coverlet. Only the handful of bullets he had slipped from my pistol betrayed that anyone had been there at all. He might as well have been a ghost, I thought, as I blew out the lantern. Except I had made him bleed. It was a very small consolation.

      * * *

      The next few days were torturous. Aunt Dove and I visited more of the tourist sites, posing for СКАЧАТЬ