Free Countdown by Iris Johansen Page A

Trevor’s vocabulary. I want to talk to him.”
    “He’s busy. I’ll phone you in six or seven hours. I have to go now.” She hung up the phone.
    “I take it she didn’t consider Trevor a suitable escort,” Bartlett said. “I can’t say I really blame her.”
    “Neither can I.” Jane sat down and buckled the seat belt. “Okay, start soothing, Bartlett. First, tell me why you’re still with Trevor.”
    He smiled. “He promised me that he’d get me enough money to retire on a South Seas island.”
    “You’d hate living on an island. You’re much too urban-oriented.”
    He nodded. “It was only an excuse. I like the life I live with Trevor. Being an accountant in London wasn’t very thrilling.”
    “Being a criminal is thrilling?”
    “I’m not a criminal.” He thought about it. “Or perhaps I am, but it doesn’t seem like it. I just trail around with Trevor and do a few things he asks me to do. Of course, that probably makes me an accessory, but I don’t really do anything bad, as I see it. I don’t hurt anyone.”
    The plane had started down the runway and she had an instant of panic. Calm down. She’d made her decision. “What about this Brenner? I suppose he doesn’t do anything bad either.”
    He smiled. “You’ll have to ask Brenner. He’s an Australian. On the surface he’s not at all lethal. But he doesn’t discuss what he does for Trevor, and I suspect he’s been a very bad boy in his time.”
    “So has Trevor. Like to like.”
    “Perhaps. I understand years ago they were mercenaries together in Colombia.”
    “They were?” Her gaze flew to the door of the cockpit. “Interesting.”
    “I found it revealing. Trevor has difficulties becoming close to people these days, but evidently he was more open when he was younger.”
    “Open?” Jane shook her head. “Not Trevor.”
    “Wrong word?” He thought about it. “No, I believe I’m—”
    “How do you do?” A tall, thirtyish, sandy-haired man stood in the door of the cockpit. “I’m Sam Brenner, and I couldn’t resist the temptation to come back and get a good look at you. Introduce us, Bartlett.”
    “Jane MacGuire,” Bartlett said. “And I’m surprised Trevor decided to let her be exposed to you, Brenner.”
    “I persuaded him that it would be better for her to know the best as well as the worst of the situation. Go up front and keep Trevor company, will you, mate?”
    Bartlett glanced at Jane. “It’s up to you.”
    Jane’s gaze was narrowed on Brenner’s face. He was very tanned and had the bluest eyes she’d ever seen. His face was too long, his nose and mouth too big to be handsome, but his brows had an arched curve that was almost Pan-like.
    He smiled, and his Australian accent was even more evident as he asked, “And do I pass inspection?”
    “Not until you tell me who the hell’s flying the plane.”
    He chuckled. “Trevor. He’s not as good a pilot as I am, but he’s adequate, and he wanted to have something to do that would let him avoid you. But I wasn’t about to sit up there and twiddle my thumbs when I could be back here satisfying my curiosity about you.”
    “Curiosity?”
    “I guess I’m not needed.” Bartlett rose to his feet and headed for the cockpit. “I’ll come back and get you something to eat a little later.”
    “Do that.” Brenner dropped down in the chair Bartlett had vacated. “Call me if Trevor gets bored.”
    “I’m sure he’ll let you know,” Bartlett said dryly. “And he’ll be back here even quicker if he thinks you’re upsetting Jane.”
    “I disagree.” He stretched his long legs in front of him. “I think he decided that it was time to go into phase two. You were to soothe and comfort and I’m here to allow myself to be probed and generally intimidated by the lady. He knows I have no discretion.”
    “Curiosity?” she repeated as the door closed behind Bartlett.
    “You must get a good deal of that after all the publicity you were subjected to