The Cathari Treasure (Cameron Kincaid)

by Smith, Daniel Arthur

  Cameron spit blood to his side, “I don’t need to tell you anything.”

  “Hmm,” the priest nodded again and another blow landed to the side of Cameron’s head. “You do need to tell me.” The priest was no longer conversational. “You need to tell me where she is.”

  “I guess we’re going to be here a long time,” said Cameron.

  Another blow. Cameron spit more blood.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 42

  Quebec

  Cameron heard two quick clicks behind him followed by two clinks of metal on the stone floor. Cameron did not need to see behind him to know from where those subtle sounds came. Pepe’s handgun was a SIG Mosquito, based on the design of Cameron’s P226 the Mosquito was ten percent smaller, the beauty of which was that with the silencer on the only sound that could be heard when taking a shot was of the empty shell cartridges expelling.

  Next to him, Cameron saw Peter for the first time, laid out on the floor chest down with two tight red holes through his head. Peter dropped so quickly that his blood had not had a chance to exit. The blood now pulsed out of him from a heart that was too late to catch up with the death of the brain.

  “I wouldn’t use that,” said Pepe. Cameron could still not see his friend standing a few steps behind.

  The priest said nothing and to Cameron’s other side another man stepped backward into view. The big man was pointing the .357 he took off Cameron, not at Pepe, rather at Cameron’s head. The big man was without emotion and Cameron could tell, that though the big man’s eyes were fixed on Pepe, the trigger of the gun was ready to be squeezed without hesitation.

  “We’ll do this the easy way,” Cameron heard Pepe say. “You don’t have to put down the gun.”

  “You’re damn right I don’t,” said the big man. “You get any closer and your friend is done.”

  “I believe you,” said Pepe. “I also believe you don’t care if I leave with my friend or not. What you need to believe is that if I don’t leave with my friend, no one will be leaving.”

  The big man slightly lowered the .357.

  “It’s ok, one thing at a time. Slowly put your thumb between the hammer,” said Pepe.

  The man slipped his thumb into the hammer of the .357 as Pepe requested.

  “Now set it down,” said Pepe.

  The man set the .357 on the floor.

  “Good. Now the coat.”

  The big man began to swiftly slip off his jacket.

  “Slowly,” said Pepe. The big man slowed, removed his jacket, and then let the coat drop to the floor.

  Pepe stepped forward holding the mosquito to the man’s stomach, his SIG 552 commando rifle hung clipped to his waist. With his free hand, Pepe frisked the big man to ensure he was clean.

  “Nice, now untie my friend.”

  The man past Pepe back out of Cameron’s view. Pepe’s mosquito followed the big man as Pepe turned toward Cameron and the priest. Cameron felt the big man tug at his bindings, tightening them at first, and then finally loosening them away from Cameron’s wrists.

  Cameron brought his wrists forward and began to rub them. He heard another clink on the stone floor and the thud of the big man collapsing behind him. The priest’s eyes widened.

  “Don’t worry,” said Pepe. “You’re going to escort us out of here.”

  The priest nodded compliantly. Cameron stood and turned toward the door. He had not been sitting in the furnace room. The heat behind him permeated from a portable gas grill, flames licking through the grate, with at least a dozen more skewers of varying widths glowing red. Cameron looked back at the priest. The priest smiled and shrugged.

  “Are you ok?” asked Pepe.

  “A little sore, but I’ve been worse,” said Cameron. He reached behind his back and pulled out his P226.

  “Alright Monseigneur, get up from the stool. It’s time to go,” said Pepe.

  The priest started to speak, “I am actually not a Monseigneur --,” Pepe kicked the stool from under the priest and then said “-- I don’t really care if you are an altar boy. Now move it.”

  The priest had caught himself from falling onto the floor, stood up, and then smoothed out his black jacket.

  The three walked out of the room into an arched hallway. Outside the door two men were crumpled on the floor in pools of blood. Pepe gestured to the right, “What’s down that way?”

  “More crypts, a chapel, some storage,” said the priest.

  “Is there another way up to the cathedral? I don’t want to go back the way I came,” said Pepe.

  “What is the way you came?” asked the priest.

  “Through the back panel of the confessional booth like my friend.”

  Cameron now understood how he was taken below the church, a secret door in the confessional booth.

  “Ah,” said the priest, “that way you will find a stairwell that leads to a door near the dais and then continues up to the balcony.”

  Pepe kicked the shoulder of one of the dead men on the floor. The body shifted and then rested back to its original position. “Will any of your friends be waiting for us?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” said the priest.

  “Uh huh. Cameron, take the Monseigneur back to the confessional booth. Then wait for my signal.”

  Pepe slipped the mosquito into his waist, lifted the 552 rifle and left Cameron and the priest where they stood.

  “You lead the way,” said Cameron. He waved the end of the P226 from the priest toward the length of the hall and then to the priest again. The priest smiled and began to walk down the hall, leading Cameron to a bookcase. The priest lifted his arms to the side of the case. “Hold it,” said Cameron. “What are you doing?”

  The priest stopped reaching for the bookcase and left his arms suspended. “The passage is behind here.”

  “All right then, slowly.” The priest rested his hands against the end of the bookcase and easily slid the case passed an arched door. A light flickered on revealing a set of stairs beginning at the archway. Cameron waved the priest up the stairs with his P226. “You fellas are unbelievable,” said Cameron. Though Cameron had traveled this way shortly before, this was the first time he had actually had seen the hidden passage.

  At the top of the steps was a series of wooden panels, the backs of the confessional booths. Cameron was sure that exiting from the wrong booth would be bad news for him. When Cameron scanned the room earlier he had thought the room looked clear, Pepe had obviously picked up on something since then.

  The priest reached to open a panel.

  “Just hold on for a moment,” said Cameron.

  “You know,” said the priest, “it’s not too late to work something out.”

  “It’s not hey?”

  “Not at all. We have access to quite substantial resources. The million you requested for example.”

  “Yeah I wanted to ask you, what denomination would that million be in?”

  The priest grinned and then said, “Any denomination you like. Do you have a particular favorite?”

  “I’d have to say that I am tossed between dollars and euros. Not long ago I would have said pounds, but the economy. It’s a tricky thing.”

  The priest smirked. He knew that Cameron was playing with him. “You are making a big mistake Mister Kincaid.”

  “And that’s another thing, you keep calling me Mister Kincaid, not Cameron but Mister Kincaid. How do you even know who I am?”

  “We were at your restaurant. Sadly, we underestimated you. We were familiar with your celebrity on the Food Network--.”

  “You watch that?” asked Cameron.

  “Doesn’t everybody. We thought you were, well, not a problem. We did not anticipate this.” The priest flashed a glance to the P226.

  “Yeah well, you think you know a guy.”

  Cameron’s earpiece engaged. “I’m in position,” said Pepe. The priest was obviously still unaware of the earpiece, as Pepe had taken him by surprise.
r />   “Ok let’s go,” said Cameron.

  The priest placed his hand on the panel and lightly pressed. Cameron heard a bolt slip and the panel swung open.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 43

  Quebec

  “You first,” said Cameron.

  The priest stepped into the booth and Cameron followed. As the priest opened the outer door he said, “You and your friend should really reconsider.”

  “Should we now. C’mon let’s go.”

  “You are signing your own death warrant.”

  The priest stepped out of the confessional booth into the majesty of the cathedral. Cameron followed him.

  “Keep walking,” said Cameron. He pushed the barrel of the P226 into the small of the priests back and then brought the butt back close to his own waist, shielding the gun under his jacket. The cathedral looked no different in appearance than the first time Cameron had walked through. People peppered the pews here and there, sunlight came in through the porticos, and that incense smell, almost nauseating, hung heavy. Pepe was nowhere to be seen, nor was anyone else that looked odd or suspicious. The priest led Cameron down the length of the pew and into the center aisle.

  “Almost there. Let’s mosey right out of here,” said Cameron.

  The priest began to lead Cameron down the aisle toward the entranceway of the cathedral. Cameron noticed the priest looking up to the balcony, looking for something or someone.

  “Keep it moving,” said Cameron.

  The priest suddenly stopped, turned around to face Cameron, and then took a step backward. “This is your final chance. There will be no place to hide. I want her.”

  From the balcony over Cameron’s shoulder came a low groan, and then a sniper rifle fell to the floor followed by a newly dead man.

  “I don’t think you will find her,” said Cameron.

  The priest looked up to the balcony to see Pepe.

  Pepe held up an open palm to the priest and bent his fingers in a wave, his thumb holding a bloody Opinel penknife.

  People began to stand and leave the pews, some whispering to each other, some distressed, most just left silently.

  The priest’s face contorted and he let out a growl “Kill them!” The priest quickly slipped his hand into his black jacket to grab a gun, only to be out drawn by Cameron. However fast the priest had thought and moved Cameron did not have the burden of thinking to slow him down. Cameron acted on pure instinct. Cameron dove across the aisle to get cover behind a pew, firing his P226 at the priest while in motion. Before the priest had even pulled his gun from the holster beneath his jacket, Cameron’s P226 had placed a bullet between the priest’s awestruck eyes.

  Cameron was not quick enough for another sniper that cracked off a shot at him during his dive for cover. A shot that was lucky for Cameron, unlucky for the sniper. The sniper missed his target, giving away his own position to Pepe. Pepe identified, targeted, and killed the sniper before he could get off a second shot.

  At the door, an older man with baggy shorts and an open guidebook froze as people exited around him. The man focused in the direction of Cameron, emotionless behind sunglasses. Baggy shorts saw Cameron lift his head from behind the pew, dropped the guidebook, and pulled a Ruger from under his shirt. Baggy fired two quick rounds toward Cameron. Cameron took a breath and then threw himself down to the floor of the aisle, twisting as he did so that when he hit the floor he was able to roll back on his shoulder, putting his gun in the general direction on the baggy shorts man. Cameron fired three rapid shots. The top of baggy short’s skull separated from his head above his sunglasses. Baggy shorts dropped to his knees and then fell forward dead.

  Cameron sat up and got to his knees. P226 still in hand, he twisted left and right, sweeping the room. “Clear,” said Cameron. In his earpiece Pepe replied, “Clear.”

  “Than that’s that. Let’s move out.”

  Cameron spun around to the body of the dark priest behind him. The priest lay dead on his stomach. Cameron rolled the body over and pulled open the priest’s jacket to check his inside pockets. Nothing. He grabbed the lapel and rolled the body back with a jerk. The priest’s head thumped with a thud against the back of a pew. Cameron flipped the back of the jacket up and found what he was looking for sheathed in the priest’s waistline, a Rex Mundi dagger. He transferred the dagger to his own waist.

  “You’re building up a collection, eh?” asked Pepe, already by Cameron’s side. “I have two souvenirs myself,” Pepe added, holding up two daggers. In Pepe’s other hand, he held an open backpack. He dropped the daggers into the pack and then swept the room one more time before unclipping the 552 from the harness and adding the gun to the pack as well.

  “Nice, let’s go,” said Cameron, his P226 still in hand.

  At the end of the aisle, they stopped near the body of baggy shorts. The body was stretched out, face down, in a pool of blood and brains.

  “Would you like this one?” asked Cameron. Pepe scowled and tilted his head curiously at the carnage and then shrugged, “You can have it. You made the mess after all.”

  Cameron stepped to the side of the torso. He could see that nothing was tucked into the back of the dead man, so he pushed the body over with his shoe. When the body rolled, lumps of brain oozed out of the gaping wound.

  “Ewe,” said Pepe.

  “Its nothing you haven’t seen before,” said Cameron.

  “True.”

  “You remember that guard in Ghana? That was a mess.” Cameron used his foot to slide the dead man’s shirt up. In the waistline of the corpse was the sheathed dagger Cameron was looking for.

  “That was different, his head was sliced in half. This one, with the sunglasses still on, is very creepy to me.”

  Cameron took a moment to look at the ghastly face blindly staring back at the two of them. He tucked his P226 behind his back and said, “Yeah, he is creepy.” Then in one motion, Cameron reached down with a swing of his arm, snatched the dagger, and took a step toward the door.

  The people outside had already fled or were consoling each other in confusion beyond the promenade. None took notice of Cameron or Pepe as they made their way out of the church, down the steps, and into the small park across Rue Ste Felixine.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 44

  Quebec

  Cameron and Pepe approached the bench where Nicole sat with her legs crossed, her face basking in the sun. Her eyes were closed and they thought she had not heard them as they stepped in front of her.

  With her eyes still closed, Nicole spoke, “You have only helped the operatives to their next lives.”

  “I feel better anyway,” said Pepe.

  “I have to agree,” said Cameron. “Much better.”

  “There is no stopping Rex Mundi, for this is his world,” Nicole brought her head down from basking in the sun and then slowly opened her eyes, “and his operatives are everywhere.”

  Nicole’s eyes were vacuous and had she not spoke, Cameron and Pepe would have thought her in a trance. Her gaze locked passed them. They turned toward each other and then out into the park where Nicole had fixed her stare.

  At a hot dog cart directly across the clearing, a provincial police officer laughed at his partner for spilling sauce on his white uniform. The vendor, speaking quickly and waving a fistful of napkins and a bottle of water, was not getting either of the police officers’ attention. Next to the hot dog stand, in front of the park fountain, a thin white faced mime pushed his hands against the walls of an invisible box, the top and sides closing in on him, while two young couples watched his performance. Off to the side of the clearing, a group of college students were gathered on three blankets spread across the lawn for a picnic.

  “You are saying all of these people are all operatives?” asked Pepe.

  “No,” answered Cameron, “she is saying he is.”

  Behind the fountain, in a tweed cap, sunglasses, and t-shirt, stood a thin man looking back in their direction, hi
s open smile gaping and familiar.

  “You know that man?” asked Pepe, “Because he certainly seems to know you.”

  “His name is Christophe,” said Cameron. He smiled back at Christophe, bowed his head, and then asked Nicole, “How long has he been watching you?”

  “Not long after you left. I pretended I did not know he was there,” said Nicole.

  “Good girl. Well, he knows we know now,” said Cameron.

  “Uh,” said Pepe, “so what are we to do?” He too smiled in Christophe’s direction.

  “Well it’s his dumb luck those two policemen are standing so close,” said Cameron.

  “Or his misfortune,” said Pepe.

  “His misfortune?” asked Nicole.

  “Pepe’s right. Christophe can take no action anymore than we can.”

  Pepe spoke in a low voice, eyes still focused on Christophe, “Nicole dear, gather your things. We need to move quickly.”

  Cameron added, “I don’t think he has anyone left to call.”

  “I don’t want to find out.” Pepe looked down at Nicole, “Now my dear, let’s go.”

  Magazines were stacked beside Nicole and a sketchpad was on her lap. She had brought the magazines at Cameron’s behest so that she could blend easier in the park. The sketchpad was added after Nicole had continually insisted that she needed her mind to stay pure. Now Nicole stood leaving everything except her bag on the bench.

  * * * * *

  Chapter 45

  Quebec

  “Ok, this way,” said Cameron as he waved goodbye to Christophe, “as we discussed.” Cameron led the others down the sidewalk. They had discussed an escape route in the slim chance they would be pursued by the Rex Mundi or the police. Though neither of those things had happened, this third scenario was as applicable as a reason to initiate the plan.