The Napoleon Affair

by Ernest Dempsey

  "No clue," Alex said. "We got out of there pretty fast."

  "You're safe now, though?"

  "Yeah, we think so. We're actually in Portugal right now. Once we got back to Cape Town and couldn't find the other shooter, we decided it would be safer to leave than stick around in a town we didn't know."

  "Okay, that's good thinking," Sean said. He admitted it: Their strategy was sound. If he'd been in the same situation, he wouldn't have ruled out the possibility of retreating to another country where he could reset the game and figure out his next move. He'd done that before when he knew a fight was one he couldn't win. "You two lie low for now."

  Sean's voice grew quieter as he took the volume down to just above a whisper. "I need you to find out all you can about a ring from a church in Malta. Look at the text I sent you. I need this pretty fast if you can manage it."

  "Sure thing, Sean. We're at a nice place. Their internet isn't as fast as ours, but its fine for ordinary people."

  Sean chuckled. "Okay, cool. Figure out what you can and text me." He took another wayward glance at Wagner to make sure the man couldn't hear what he was about to say. "The main thing I need is to know if the story is legit or not. Anything else is a bonus."

  "Sure thing, Sean." It was an unusual request for more than one reason, but Alex knew he and Tara could figure it out.

  "Thanks. Speak soon."

  Sean ended the call and slid the phone back in his pocket as he stepped back over to his seat.

  "That was Alex," he said. "They got off Saint Helena safely but said their cell service wasn't great out there."

  "I can imagine. That's probably why we couldn't get ahold of them before," Tommy said with a nod. "That island is way out in the middle of the ocean. It's extremely isolated. I imagine getting supplies must be expensive for the people who live there."

  "Indeed."

  "So, why are my two assistants calling you instead of me?" Tommy asked. There was a hint of joking in his voice but also genuine curiosity.

  "Maybe they like me better than you," Sean jabbed.

  Tommy snorted, and a big grin swept over his face. "Probably."

  "I'm sorry to interrupt this little moment," Bodmer said, "but we are still in danger." He looked around, taking in the surroundings before continuing. "We're trapped here on this train. You realize that, yes?"

  "I know," Sean managed. "And there's also the problem that they probably know where we're heading."

  "Of course they know," Bodmer blurted. The man hadn't been talkative until that moment. It caught everyone in the group off guard except for Sean. He remained unflinching. "This train goes straight to Paris."

  "There are other stops along the way," Sean pointed out.

  "Sure, but the men who tried to kill us aren't going to simply sit around and wait. We left one of them alive back there."

  "There was no getting around that."

  "I know, but my point is he will call someone. The second we get off this train in Paris, there will be more just like him waiting to grab us."

  "No doubt about it," Sean said casually.

  "You don't seem concerned." Bodmer's tone softened as his curiosity spiked.

  "Because we're not going to get off the train in Paris."

  "We aren't?"

  Sean's head turned one time. "No. We're getting off two stops away from the main train station. From there, we can take other transportation to Père Lachaise and lose the tails that way."

  Bodmer inclined his head as he considered what Sean was saying. "So we're going to let them think we're taking the train all the way into Paris."

  "Exactly. They'll have the cavalry waiting for us on the platform, or maybe by the exits, ready to nab us. But we'll be gone, and they won't be the wiser."

  Bodmer's head began to bob as he grasped the plan. "Yes. That is a good idea. While they're wasting time looking for us, we can investigate the other two graves."

  "There you go." Sean leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms as if in triumph.

  "That might work," Bodmer admitted.

  "I hope it does," Wagner chimed. "Everything is riding on this."

  "Everything?" Adriana asked.

  "If Berger is able to get to the ring before us, it could have catastrophic consequences. That relic, in the eyes of billions of believers, could signify that he is the rightful leader of the church. He will command legions of followers who will rally to his cause."

  "And what cause is that?" Tommy asked.

  "Getting back what was taken from the order is only one part of Berger's deranged plan."

  "The other?"

  Wagner sighed. "He wants to begin a new Crusade, a new campaign to bring the entire religious world under one banner. His banner."

  "It won't work," Tommy countered. "There's no way he could garner that much support."

  "You underestimate the power of religious fervor. You don't have to look far to see the atrocities that have been carried out in the name of religion, even today in our so-called modern era. People get swept up in things. Their emotions are played. Once Berger shows the ring to the world, much of Christianity will believe it to be a sign that he is a messenger from God, if not the rightful ruler of a new Heavenly Kingdom on Earth."

  The older man may have been playing things up just a tad, but Sean knew he was right. If the relic they were looking for really was the ring of John the Baptist, and it could be verified in any way, this Lucien Berger would wield unimaginable power. Billions would believe every word that dripped from his lips.

  Another thought occurred to Sean. It was in reference to something Wagner mentioned before. If the ring held some kind of mystical power, it would not only be a symbolic relic but one far more dangerous.

  "Wagner," Sean said, his attention abruptly going back to the man. "You're keeping something from us."

  The rest of the group looked surprised. Was there something Sean knew that the others didn't? Their eyes shifted to Sean, but his gaze was locked on Wagner. He was holding the man in his seat, as if Sean's stare possessed the power to turn a person into stone.

  Tommy worried Sean had just offended the man, a man whose help they could probably use in solving the murder of Cardinal Jarllson, plus the mystery of the missing ring.

  "Am I?" Wagner spoke softly. His lips barely twitched, and the words came out like a poison.

  Sean didn't allow the man to play coy for long. A threatening glare set Wagner straight.

  "You've been playing a good game," Sean commented, letting his guard sag for a moment. He visibly relaxed, his shoulders slumping and cheeks drawing out ever so slightly. "I believe everything you've said, by the way. Just putting it out there."

  Wagner didn't move.

  "But," Sean raised a finger that went only slightly higher than the pitch of his voice, "there is something you're hiding. I want to know what it is. What is it about this ring that is so important? It's not just a relic or some holy object. It’s more than just a symbol. Isn't it?"

  Wagner chewed on his response for what seemed like minutes. He knew there would be no lying to Wyatt. The man was cunning, clever, and far too observant to miss even the slightest misdirection.

  None of the others had bothered to ask the question. They likely believed everything he'd told them. There was no reason to think otherwise.

  Wyatt, though, was a different animal.

  Wagner had been holding back the second piece of truth regarding the ring because stopping a madman should have been reason enough for anyone to pitch in and help out. Now, however, he could see he'd have to spill the rest.

  "Legends suggest that the ring possesses certain…supernatural powers."

  Adriana's was the first eyebrow to rise. "Supernatural?"

  Wagner drew in a deep breath through his nostrils. "Yes. Some legends say that whoever wears the ring shall obtain immortality. Others posit that the bearer of the ring will be granted tremendous strength and military might. There are even a few who believed whoev
er wears the ring will be able to resurrect the dead."

  Sean's brow furrowed, but it was Bodmer who spoke first.

  "Immortality? Superhuman strength? Resurrection of the dead? John the Baptist died. He was not a warrior. He never resurrected the dead, not that we know of." There was disdain in Bodmer's voice. "It sounds like a bard's tale."

  Wagner shrugged. "Like I said, they're legends. Perhaps they're not true. Or maybe they are. Either way, we cannot let Berger get to the ring. If he does, even if the ring possesses no mystical powers, what it represents to the people will be enough to throw the planet into chaos. Lucien Berger must not get his hands on the ring of John the Baptist."

  The train began to slow again as it proceeded into the next station. Off in the distance, the Eiffel Tower loomed larger with every passing second. And so did danger.

  "I guess we'll have to work faster," Tommy said. "When we get to Père Lachaise, we should split up."

  31

  Père Lachaise Cemetery - PARIS

  After a cab ride that took longer than it should have, the group stood just outside the gates of the main entrance to Père Lachaise. Sean noted the reliefs carved into the exterior of the gate. Each side of the opening was adorned with a sort of column, both rising to the height of the stone wall that encircled the cemetery. Stone torches occupied each corner of the columns. The most fascinating (and depressing), Sean thought, were the hourglasses engraved into the curved tops of the columns. The hourglasses were higher than the wall and a stark reminder that every person only has a finite amount of time in life. That was how Sean interpreted it. Right or wrong, it impressed him in a sad way.

  He'd always known that someday he would die. He'd been close more times than he cared to recount. He noted the wings that were set in the background of the hourglasses as he and the others passed through the gate and into the cemetery.

  Once inside, they stepped out of the main thoroughfare and surveyed their surroundings.

  Sean didn't like the idea of splitting up as Tommy had suggested on the train, though he also realized his friend's assessment was probably the right course of action. "Sounds an awful lot like a bunch of movies and cartoon series I've seen," he offered. "Doesn't usually end up well for most people when they split up in a situation like this."

  "I agree," Bodmer said. "Dividing forces in favor of speed may not be the best decision."

  "Then we stay together and waste valuable time," Wagner countered. "Either way, there is risk."

  Sean nodded and took charge. "We'll split up. But keep your phones unlocked and be ready to answer if you get a call." He cast a wayward glance at Wagner. It was a look that told the man Sean was giving him the benefit of the doubt. "Adriana, come with me. Tommy, you mind going with those two?"

  Tommy's lips curled as they often did when he was trying to express that something was okay. "Not at all. Someone's got to take care of them." He slapped Bodmer on the back, but the commander didn't seem to care for the joke. Or maybe he missed it completely. Either way, he offered no laughter, not even the slightest crease of his lips.

  The man, for the most part, had been a bore to bring along on the trip. Tommy figured it was merely his nature. Years of training and tremendous responsibility at the Vatican certainly would have taken a toll on anyone. Perhaps he was simply hardened from that and only sought to complete his duty. All business, Tommy figured.

  "You three take Masséna," Sean said. "We will go to the Augereau grave."

  The others nodded.

  Sean held a map he had procured from the information desk on the way in. The glossy paper flapped in the gentle summer breeze. The smell of flowers filled the air and washed over the visitors in an array of scents that ranged from the extremely sweet to the nearly pungent and bitter. It was an odd contrast: so much life flourishing amid so much death.

  "Looks like we go this way," Sean said after only a few seconds of analyzing the map. "You guys go that direction. Call me when you're there, and let me know if you find anything."

  "If?" Tommy asked, sounding a little cocky. "It's here. The rest of the clue has to be in this cemetery. Be sure to take pictures of the headstone when you find it. That way, we can compare everything when we find a place to sit down and work."

  Sean inclined his head for a second. Then he gave a word of warning, not that his friend needed it. Sean would be remiss if he didn't.

  "Keep your head on a swivel, Schultzie. There is still the guy from before, and I'm certain he or whoever is behind this won't take long to figure out what happened, if they haven't figured it out already."

  "Yes," Bodmer added, checking the pistol tucked into his hip holster. "We must stay vigilant. Clearly, these people will stop at nothing to get to the relic before us."

  The man's comments were one of the first outward displays of leadership that Sean had seen since meeting the man. There was a fuel behind his words, a slow-burning diesel that flickered in his eyes. Sean wondered what his true motivation could be. He knew Bodmer held on to a firm sense of duty and honor. That much was clear, but Sean pondered how much of the man's intense desire to track down Jarllson's killer was for revenge and how much was for justice. It was still unclear if the two had been friends before Jarllson's untimely demise. Maybe it didn't matter—as long as the man was helping them.

  Tommy led the other two down a path that branched off from the main one, while Sean and Adriana took another going in the opposite direction.

  Père Lachaise's massive footprint occupied 110 acres and sprawled out in what—to the untrained eye—might have appeared to be a chaotic layout. Huge headstones and monuments, tombs, crypts, and stone caskets covered the landscape, some lined up in neat rows while others pointed at odd angles opposite to their neighbors. A dense row of trees laid out the boundary of the property along with the massive stone wall that lined the perimeter. More trees dotted the walkways, some between graves and others planted along the paths. A denser patch of forest occupied the center of the cemetery, providing a natural and relaxing feel to the somber resting place of so many. Sean found it hard to believe that in 1804 this place only had thirteen tenants. Now, it was bursting to the point of overflowing. Celebrities from all over the world wanted to be buried in the famous confines of the cemetery, though from what Sean had heard it was easier to get a cheap apartment in Manhattan.

  Even as he constantly scanned their surroundings, Sean couldn't help but think of the one grave he wanted to see. He'd been a fan of The Doors in high school and knew that Jim Morrison's final resting place was somewhere nearby—so close he could almost hear it calling to him. In the back of his mind, he kept the exact location of the singer's marker dangling like a carrot over a mule: division 6, row 2, grave number 5.

  Sean sloughed off the thought and refocused on the mission. So close yet so far. Maybe after they were done, he and Adriana could return to this place.

  He sighed and kept walking, passing the lane he knew would lead to Jim Morrison's tomb.

  Adriana's eyes darted in every direction and she constantly turned to look over her shoulder, wary that someone could be following them. With so many visitors to the famous cemetery, it was going to be a task to try to single out suspicious characters. People were everywhere, not that Adriana blamed them. She'd toured the cemetery before and considered it to be one of serene beauty, a source of calm in the storm that was cosmopolitan Paris. The world spun chaotically all around, but in Père Lachaise there was peace, a stillness that filled the soul of every person who walked the cobbled lanes.

  Sean and Adriana walked at a steady pace, not wanting to look like they were in a hurry but also well aware that time was potentially against them. No one else in the cemetery appeared to be in a hurry to get anywhere. It wasn't that kind of place. Time was forgotten there; for the tenants it had ceased to exist.

  The couple made their way around a curve that was lined with tall monuments and crypts. Some of the headstones were bizarre. They saw one that featured a m
an's likeness lying on his back, hands raised slightly over his torso and holding another man's face.

  Père Lachaise was known for such oddities and drew a strong contingent of its millions of annual visitors who simply came for the bizarre.

  Sean recalled their destination in his mind. He'd memorized the names of the little pathways and boulevards they would need to take to reach the grave of Pierre Augereau. He knew exactly where to go, as far as an overhead map view was concerned, but being there in person was different. He likened it to watching an American football game from the nosebleed seats versus being down on the sidelines. It was a different world, especially when surrounded by thousands of monuments. He'd read that the cemetery contained the remains of around one million people. The number was mind-numbing, but as he and Adriana continued down a path that branched off to the right, he could believe it. He'd never in his life seen a place like this. Most cemeteries in the United States were spread out, giving at least a little space between occupants. Then again, the older cemeteries, such as in Boston or Charleston, were much more like this one, smaller but with graves closer to one another.

  He snapped his head to the left at the sight of a sudden movement. His right hand instinctively reached to his hip. Sean's thumb rested on the back of the weapon's grip as he watched. He unconsciously slowed his pace, too, and fixed his gaze on the rows of gravestones and crypts that climbed up a short rise—like a staircase of sadness.

  A squirrel's head appeared over one of the monuments as it climbed up and perched itself next to the cross that adorned its top. The creature looked around suspiciously and then began gnawing on an acorn.

  Sean's hand dropped back down to his side as he exhaled. Adriana had detected his sudden concern and focused her attention on whatever had caught Sean's. She also watched their backs, making sure no one was flanking them.

  "Squirrel," Sean muttered.

  Adriana narrowed her eyes, sweeping the area one more time before continuing down the path.