The Archangel Agenda (Evangeline Heart Book 1)

by A. K. Alexander

The old woman cleared her throat, making both of us jump. The elder smiled and beckoned me forward, like he’d been expecting me ... and maybe he had. He repeated what Nyan had said about that night and why they’d sold the relics, but he’d been able to give me a name, which earned me another step forward.

  “We sold all the remaining relics to a private buyer in London, Dr. Ralph Stephano, a retired professor,” Tenyan told me in his soft voice. “Dr. Stephano passed through town and after his tour of the temple, had inquired about any religious relics my brothers and I might have for sale. He picked up and bought whatever he could. He left here that day with over two dozen pieces.”

  “Anything resembling a ring?” I held out my hand like I was wearing one. “A blueish green oval stone, with a golden inlay. Kind of big and chunky.”

  He nodded. “Yes. We believed that it belonged to your mother, but there was much turmoil surrounding the piece and we feared keeping it here.” He leaned forward and grasped my hands tightly. “The men who wanted that ring killed many of my people for it. They will not think twice on killing you. I do not think you want this piece, even if it was your mother’s.”

  I thanked him for his time and advice, knowing that I couldn’t pay attention to his warning. I had no choice.

  On the plane from Jordan to London, I pulled out my iPad and researched what I could about this buyer, Dr. Stephano. There’d been nothing in any of the intelligence databases, but Google had been a gold mine. Tons of speaking engagements and podcasts and interviews. I listened to a handful. They were all pretty much the same. Dr. Stephano was a relic hunter, a guy who loved finding neat religious artifacts. And he was the world’s foremost expert on the Book of Enoch. He’d been honored at the Smithsonian and other museums for his donations and was incredibly well versed on all things theology. But he didn’t seem sophisticated enough to be Azazel’s guy.

  During one podcast, he’d listed most of his collection, but had admitted that he’d gathered so many relics and artifacts that he didn’t always remember what he had. The host had a hearty laugh about that and then went off on a tangent that I skipped. Metatron had said I needed to find a scholar who knew a ton about the Book of Enoch, and Dr. Stephano not only seemed like the most obvious candidate, but he also had an impressive collection of relics that he’d amassed during his travels. The one I was looking for hadn’t immediately jumped out during my research, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have it.

  London was loud and chaotic, but I managed to find Stephano’s address and stepped out of the cab into the overcast afternoon that threatened rain at any moment. A slender, stern-faced woman with white hair in a bun opened the door.

  I put on my most charming smile while she eyed me warily. “Hi. Mr. Stephano isn’t expecting me, but I’ve come to inquire about his last lecture.”

  Her demeanor changed and her face softened. I assumed they didn’t get a lot of visitors coming to call at his house to talk shop. “Yes, yes. Come in. I’m Anna, Dr. Ralph’s housekeeper. I’ll let him know you’ve come,” she said in a clipped British accent. She let me into the house and I couldn’t contain my surprise at the interior.

  It was stuffed to the ceiling and could have been an episode straight out of Hoarders.

  “Can I tell him who’s calling?” She startled me and I scrambled to recover.

  “Yes.” My training kicked in and I fell back on my most common alias. “My name is Judy.”

  “Please make yourself at home.” She hurried away and I did my best to find a place to stand.

  Stacks of papers and boxes cluttered every available space on the floor and I peeked around, trying to find an obvious indicator that the relic I needed was here. I’d anticipated a well-organized display since he was such a collector. This, though … this I couldn’t have anticipated, not even after all the research I’d done on him. Papers stuck out from the pages of books in his bookcases, and more boxes and stacks were crammed together in the remaining space on top. Dusty light filtered through the yellowed aging curtains. Dust motes floated through the air. How the hell did he find anything when he needed to take it to a symposium and talk about it?

  “Well hello there!” An exuberant voice heavily laden with a British accent came from the doorway. Wiry eyebrows nearly eclipsed Mr. Stephano’s blue eyes, bright and excited to have a visitor. He moved delicately into the room, his portly figure supported by a wooden cane, twisted and knotted like it had come straight from a tree he’d found on one of his trips abroad. I moved closer, worried that he’d knock one of the stacks over and bury himself. “Anna says you’ve come about my last lecture.”

  I hurried over and extended my hand, quickly changing my plan and deciding to pull on his heartstrings instead based on his demeanor and exuberance. “Yes. Hello. Pleased to meet you. I’m Judy Parker. I’m very interested in your research, specifically about anything you’ve learned about the area of Jordan.” I glanced away and lowered my voice. “My mother worked on a dig there, and I’m finally trying to piece together her life. She passed several years ago.”

  “Oh dear. Terribly sorry. Do come in. Anna is making tea.” He glanced around the small office as if noticing for the first time that there wasn’t anywhere to sit, let alone have tea and crumpets. “Perhaps the kitchen?”

  I smiled. “That would be great.” I followed him down a narrow hall made tighter by more stacks piled against the wall. “I appreciate your taking the time for me since I didn’t call first to make an appointment.”

  He waved his hand. “Not a bother. Not a bother at all. I’m always eager to bend the ear of a fellow … er, are you a relic hunter?”

  Not until recently. Again, my training took over and the words flowed from my research, my cover thickening one sentence at a time. I wanted to give the barest amount and redirect to get him talking about himself again. “My mother was the one who really got me involved in the history of religion and the artifacts. And you?”

  We sat at a round wooden table flanked by two chairs while Anna got our tea ready. Dr. Stephano regaled me with tales of his travels and I interjected questions before he could ask me about any of mine. He rambled and forgot which story he was telling quite often, and Anna had to help him out.

  He trailed off during the highlights of his stories, and Anna kept close tabs on him to keep him from getting too frustrated, gently nudging his story along. She was kind about it and I wondered how long they’d been a couple, but then she’d roll her eyes and tease him, making me think they were more like siblings. Either way, she was good for him and he certainly needed to lean on her and her help. I sensed that his memory was failing and that sent a cold shiver down my spine. At the moment, he was the only lead I had and I needed him to come through for me.

  We drank our tea and as my alias wooed him with the right comment at the perfect time, his trust in me became rock-solid, just like it was supposed to. I swirled my spoon in my tea and set it delicately on the saucer. “There’s one piece my Mother was especially fond of, and I wonder if you know anything about it.”

  He waited patiently for me to describe it. “It was a hammered metal ring, silver-colored but maybe not made of silver, maybe pewter or steel. A blue-green gem at its center, mottled though, like an opal, and the stone is inlaid with a gold pentagram. It’s big, a man’s ring, large.”

  “Yes! I do remember that. What a spectacular piece. Anna, isn’t that upstairs in the front bedroom?”

  She smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “If that’s where you remember putting it, then it should still be there. Don’t think you’ve done a talk on that one.” She winked at me and walked into the pantry, gathering flour and spices for her next treat.

  “No. No. Never told anyone about that one.” He tapped his cane on the floor and got it into position, then slowly stood and held out a hand for me. “Care to go on an excavation like your mother?”

  I forced a smile. If the front bedroom looked anything like the front office, I wasn’t sure the best arc
haeologist would be able to find it.

  Chapter Ten

  I rocked back on my heels and looked around the room. We’d been at this for hours. He’d directed me from one spot to another and while I’d found some amazing stuff in this front room, I didn’t find anything that resembled Mother’s ring.

  “Dr. Stephano, are you sure it’s here?” I didn’t want to question his memory, but the more he talked, the more I worried that he’d overlooked either the placement or who he’d loaned it to. Or, if he’d ever even had it in the first place. So much for that divine intervention Metraton was going to handle before I arrived. I closed the box I’d been looking through and stood.

  He reached for a box on a high shelf and I hurried to help him. “If it’s not in this one, you may be right that I’ve forgotten what I did with it.”

  Cold seized my intestines and I steeled myself. I took the box and set it on an unsteady stack. We could be buried alive by an avalanche of boxes and papers in here and Anna would never be able to save us. I eased the lid off the box and it was immediately evident that it was filled with nothing other than papers.

  Beside me, the good doctor tsked. “Darn, darn, darn. I really hoped it would be in there.”

  I put the lid back on. “Want me to put it back up there?” My voice cracked and he set a heavy hand on the box. “No. I’ll have Anna help me sort through these later.”

  He watched me struggle, then tapped his cane on the floor. “Tell me why you want this ring, Judy.”

  I flinched at the alias. I wasn’t solidly in this persona and barely had a hold on my own life. I’d been right that I wasn’t ready to go back to work, but I had to pull it together because I couldn’t turn this mission away. “It would mean a lot to me. It was the last thing my mother found before she passed away.”

  He stared at me and for a moment I felt the burning gaze of a man not addled, but of one in his prime—sharp, astute, missing nothing.

  Then in a flash, the scrutiny was gone and he grinned. “That’s the beauty of relics, isn’t it? They hold memories for us.”

  I nodded.

  “Let’s look in one final place.” He sat heavily in an armchair overloaded with books and boxes to the side of it. “There’s a desk in that far corner and my leather notebook cataloging all my sales are in the far corner. Be a dear and bring it over, will you?”

  I hurried to comply, pushing aside trinkets and papers until I found a thick leather book. I brought it back. He set it in his lap and flipped to the last third of the book. His crooked finger traced the notations and he flipped another page.

  I stood silently and tried not to fidget. Part of me wanted to reveal what I knew about Metatron and what I was really going to use this for, but until I knew I could trust him, I couldn’t. Plus, who would believe me? I doubted that even Dr. Stephano with his somewhat feeble mind would buy into my story of the archangel and what my real mission was to be with the ring.

  “Here, here you are. I wondered if I’d sold it after all.” He looked up triumphantly, as if we hadn’t spent the last several hours on a wild goose chase. I leaned close and read the entry.

  Dr. Simon Felt. Albany, New York.

  I took the book. “Do you mind if I make a copy of this?”

  “No, no, not at all.”

  I scratched out Simon Felt’s details on a crumpled bit of notebook paper and shoved it in my pocket, then handed the book back. “Would it be okay if I came back again? If I find more questions after I talk to Dr. Felt?”

  “Of course, of course. Love to have you. You’re a delightful girl.”

  I wanted to laugh. I didn’t know which of his descriptions of me described me the least—delightful. That was a first. A girl? Not sure I’d been a girl for many years. However, his grandfatherly ways were definitely endearing.

  He struggled to stand and I helped him, then waited for him at the top of the stairs. “You know,” he said, tapping his cane on the floor. “Now that you’ve jogged my memory, there were other pieces. Other relics that go with the ring, I believe.”

  Metatron said I’d need to find three of them. If Dr. Stephano knew what and where they happened to be (please, dear God, don’t let them be somewhere in this house), that made this scavenger hunt much easier.

  He stared at me and his focus slid in and out like he wasn’t sure if he should be here or in the past, remembering. Finally, they cleared and he gave me a bright-eyed stare. “Leave it to me to do a bit of research while you meet with Mr. Felt. This is a fascinating puzzle. Do leave your contact information with Anna.”

  I kept hoping that his brain would kick in and he’d have some golden nugget of wisdom that would be the key I needed to this search. But all I got from him as he walked me to the front door was a tale about that time he’d been in Chile and had upset the local medicine man.

  I thanked him for his time and Anna came to collect him before he followed me outside. I gave her my most encouraging smile—that was some job she had, taking care of the dear old doctor.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Motherfucking son of a bitch.” Yes. It was apparently becoming one of those weeks. I leaned against the fender of the Land Rover I’d rented and crossed my arms.

  Before me stood a hulking estate. From what I’d been able to figure out about Felt, not only was his place massive behind its ten-foot stone walls, but it was outfitted with all the latest security gadgetry. I was an assassin and while that meant stealth, there was a big damn difference between being able to kill a man at a thousand yards with a sniper rifle and sneaking into a highly guarded location.

  This wasn’t going to be hard, it was going to be impossible.

  Beyond the issue of just getting inside the place, I’d still have the problem of finding my relic and getting out of there without being noticed. Impossible.

  “Oh, Metatron.” I bent over and braced my hands on my knees. And laughed. “This would have been so much easier if I could have killed him while he was out on a stroll with it.”

  I straightened and looked around, but nothing was frozen and Metatron hadn’t popped in. I was on my own.

  The only upside to this job was that Dr. Felt was traveling in Kenya for the next three weeks. If I could quickly pull together a plan, I could vanish before he even knew it was missing.

  I dug my simple flip phone out of my pocket. You’d never catch me with one of those government-tracking smartphones. I’d traced over a dozen kills using those things and if my targets ever got wise to what they carried around in their pockets, my job would get a lot harder. Sadly, that didn’t help me here one bit. I dialed Malcolm’s number from memory since I also didn’t have a single contact stored in the device. It went to voicemail and I left him a coded message that I only used during dire situations. No matter his circumstances, if he had cell service, he’d call me back within the hour.

  I opened the passenger side door and pulled my camera from beneath the seat and took a dozen pictures of everything from the wall to the security cameras, to the gate, to the lone security guard. There were other layers not visible to the bare eye, but I wanted to at least get what I could. I spent the next twelve minutes scouring the details of Felt’s place, then my phone vibrated. “Hi.”

  “You okay?”

  “I need serious help. Are you on?”’

  “Finished yesterday. Where are you?”

  “Upstate. I need your assistance.”

  “Okay.” He sighed and I could see him checking his watch. “I have one thing to handle, but if you can give me two hours, I’ll be ready for you.”

  “Thank you. It’s going to take me at least two and a half hours to get back into the city anyway, and I need to do some recon first.”

  “See you when you get here.” He hung up. We always kept phone conversation to a minimum, because you just never knew. I was glad he was home and not out on a mission. I didn’t have anyone else I could turn to for the kind of surveillance this place was going to need.

 
On my way out, I drove the SUV about a half-mile up, grabbed my camera and walked back to Felt’s place where I cased the perimeter taking photos. Fortunately, the manse backed up to a heavy wooded area. This could be to my advantage. I took several photos that I figured Malcolm and I would be able to use.

  After playing photographer, I headed out, and sorted through the bits I’d figured out so far. If Malcolm couldn’t get me past Felt’s security, I was screwed. But in all our time together, Malcolm had always come through for me, and we’d had some damn tight squeezes. My past was hounding me and I hadn’t dealt with any of it, preferring just to shove it away so I could face my future. The past held so much pain. After escaping Jordan, I’d landed at JFK to become a ward of the state.

  My orphan sentence had been a thousand times worse than escaping a war. For a long time, I’d wished that I’d have died with my parents, because a future without them was bleak and acclimating to a system that I’d never known had left scars. When Malcolm found me, I’d been through four sets of foster parents and kicked out of three high schools. My counselors had told me that if I didn’t straighten up, I’d end up in juvie ... but that hadn’t been a threat. I’d lived my life outside of the confinement of the system and conforming had been impossible.

  But Malcolm had saved me. He’d come, apologizing and begging my forgiveness that he hadn’t known, that he’d been so deep undercover it had taken an entire year to find out about Dad, and then another six months to find me. But I didn’t care about any of that. He’d saved me and had become my mentor. I owed him my life—the one he’d saved, and the one he’d given me as an assassin, since he was also my recruiter.

  I parked across the street from his brownstone in Carnegie Hill. The door opened before I could knock. We hugged awkwardly again, like we were bound to it by a duty stemming from Griffin’s death.

  “Whatcha got? Why are you here?”

  I rubbed the back of my neck, unsure how much of the truth I’d be able to give him. We hadn’t ever kept secrets from each other, but there was a big difference between omitting a few details and telling someone about archangels. “I took a freelance job.”