by Steve Berry
“This is a serious accusation, Henrik.”
“Which I’m not in the habit of making. I heard it myself, as did Cotton Malone’s boy. Can you inform the president? Just cancel the trip. That’ll solve the immediate problem.”
“Certainly. What’s happening there, Henrik?”
“More than I can explain. I’ll be in touch.”
“That was taped over five hours ago,” Daniels explained. “No call has come from my trusted attorney general. You would think he could have at least tried. Like I’m hard to find.”
She wanted to know, “Who killed Daley?”
“Larry, God rest his soul, pushed the envelope. Obviously he was a busy man. He knew something was happening and he chose to Lone Ranger it. That was his mistake. The people who have those flash drives? They’re the ones who killed Larry.”
She and Cassiopeia stared at each other. Finally she said, “Green.”
“Looks like we’ve found a winner for the who’s-a-traitor contest.”
“Then have him arrested,” she said.
Daniels shook his head. “We need more. Article Three, Section Three, of the Constitution is real clear. Treason against the United States is giving aid and comfort to the enemy. The people who want me dead are our enemy. But no one can be convicted of treason except on the testimony of two witnesses to the same overt act. We need more.”
“I guess you could take that flight to Afghanistan and, after your plane is blown from the sky, we’ll have our overt act. Cassiopeia and I can be the two witnesses.”
“That’s a good one, Stephanie. Okay. You were bait. But I had your back covered.”
“So nice of you.”
“You can’t flush birds from the bushes without a good dog. And shooting before that happens is a waste of pellets.”
She understood. She’d ordered the same thing herself, many times.
“What do you want us to do?”
The resignation in her voice rang clear.
“See Brent Green.”
MALONE STARED AT A PUZZLING SIGHT. THE DOOR FROM THE church opened into what was the face of the mountain. Ahead lay a rectangular hall about fifty feet wide and that much deep. Dimly lit with silver sconces, the granite walls shone mirror-smooth, the floor another handsome mosaic, the ceiling decorated with borders and arabesques of red and brown. On the opposite side of the room stood six rows of gray-and-black-marbled pillars bound with primrose bands. Seven doorways opened between the pillars, each a dark maw. Above each portal was a Roman letter—V S O V O D A. Above the lettering was another biblical passage. From Revelation. In Latin.
He translated out loud.
“Weep not: behold the lion of the tribe of Judah hath prevailed to open the book and loosen the seven seals thereof.”
He heard footsteps echoing from beyond the doorways. From which one was impossible to say.
“McCollum’s in there,” Pam said. “But where?”
He walked to one of the doorways and entered. Inside, a tunnel penetrated the rock, more low-wattage sconces every twenty feet. He glanced into the adjacent opening, which also led into the mountain, only through a different tunnel.
“This is interesting. Another test. Seven possible ways to go.” He dropped the pack from his shoulders. “What happened to the days when you just got a library card?”
“Probably went the same place as leaving a plane only when it lands.”
He grinned. “You actually did good on that jump.”
“Don’t remind me.”
He stared at the seven doorways.
“You knew McCollum would act, didn’t you? That’s why you let him go with that Guardian.”
“He didn’t come for the intellectual experience. And he’s no treasure hunter. That man’s a pro.”
“Just like that lawyer I dated was more than a lawyer.”
“The Israelis played you. Don’t feel bad. They played me, too.”
“You think this was all a setup?”
He shook his head. “More manipulation. We got Gary back too easy. What if I was meant to kill those kidnappers? Then when I went after George, they’d simply follow. Of course you were there and the Israelis were tracking. So they made sure I took you with me by spooking me in the airport and in the hotel. All makes sense. That way the Israelis kill George and they’re done. Whoever kidnapped Gary links up with us to find this. Which means the kidnappers have a far different agenda from the Israelis.”
“You think McCollum took Gary?”
“Him, or at least whoever he works for.”
“So what do we do?”
He fished the spare magazines for his gun from the pack and stuffed them into his fatigues. “Go after him.”
“Which door?”
“You answered that yourself in Lisbon when you said Thomas Bainbridge left clues. I read his novel on the plane. Nothing there even remotely close to what we’ve experienced. His lost library is found in southern Egypt. No hero’s quest. Nothing. But that arbor in his garden—that’s another matter. I wondered about the last part of the quest McCollum gave us. It would make no sense to just walk in once you get here.”
“Unless you’ve got a gun to someone’s head.”
“True. But something’s wrong.” He motioned at the doorways. “With this type of safeguard, they could easily lead an intruder astray. And where is everybody? This place is deserted.”
He again read the letters above the doors. V S O V O D A.
And he knew.
“You used to get on me all the time, wondering what good an eidetic memory is.”
“No. I wondered why you couldn’t remember my birthday or our anniversary.”
He grinned. “This time it pays to have good recall. Remember the last part of the quest. Heed the letters. The arbor. At Bainbridge Hall. The Roman letters.”
He saw them perfectly in his mind.
D OVOSVAVV M.
“Remember, you asked why the D and the M were spaced apart from the other eight.” He pointed at the doorways. “Now we know. One gets you in. The other, I assume, gets you out. It’s the middle part I’m unsure of, but we’re about to find out.”
SEVENTY-SIX
VIENNA
THORVALDSEN ASSESSED HIS SITUATION. HE NEEDED TO BEST Hermann, and he’d brought the gun beneath his sweater for that precise purpose. He still held the letters of St. Augustine and St. Jerome. But Hermann held a weapon, too.
“Why did you kidnap Gary Malone?” he asked.
“I don’t have any intention of being questioned.”
“Why not humor me for a moment, since I’ll soon be leaving?”
“So his father would do what we needed done. And it worked. Malone led us straight to the library.”
He recalled what the vice president had surmised the night before and decided to press the point. “And you know that?”
“I always know, Henrik. That’s the difference between us. It’s why I head this organization.”
“The members have no idea what you’re planning. They only think they understand.” He was fishing to see if anything more might be offered. He’d sent Gary to hide for two reasons. One, so there would be no possibility that what they’d overheard last night would be revealed. That would place them both in absolute jeopardy. Two, he knew Hermann would come armed and he needed to deal with the threat alone.
“They place their trust in the Circle,” Hermann was saying. “And we have never disappointed them.”
He motioned with the sheets. “Are these what you planned to show me?”
Hermann nodded. “I was hoping that once you saw the fallacy of the Bible, its inherent flaws, you’d understand that we’re merely telling the world what it should have been told fifteen hundred years ago.”
“Is the world ready?”
“I don’t care to debate this, Henrik.” He thrust his arm forward and leveled the gun. “What I want to know is, how did you learn of those letters?”
“Like you, Alfred, I
always know.”
The gun stayed aimed. “I will shoot you dead. This is my homeland and I know how to handle the matter once you’re gone. Since you already have my daughter, I can use that. Some sort of extortion plot you’d concocted that went bad. It won’t really matter. You won’t care.”
“I believe you’d actually prefer me dead.”
“No question. Much easier, in every way.”
Thorvaldsen heard the running steps at the same moment he spotted Gary bolt from the plants and tackle Alfred Hermann. The boy was tall, lanky, and solid. His momentum toppled the older man from his feet and caused Hermann to lose the gun.
Gary rolled off his opponent and snatched up the weapon.
Hermann seemed stunned by the attack and came to his knees, searching for breath.
Thorvaldsen stood and grabbed the gun from Gary. He wrapped his hand around the weapon and, not giving Hermann time to rise, slammed the butt into the side of his head.
The dazed Austrian crumpled to the dirt.
“That was foolish,” he said to Gary. “I would have handled it.”
“How? He was pointing the gun at you.”
He didn’t want to say that he was indeed running out of options, so he simply clasped the boy’s shoulder. “Good point, lad. But don’t do that again.”
“Sure, Henrik. No problem. Next time I’ll let whoever shoot you.”
He smiled. “You’re just like your father.”
“What now? There’s another guy outside.”
He led Gary near the exit and said in a soft voice, “Go out and tell him Herr Hermann needs him. Then let him enter first. I’ll take care of things.”
MALONE FOLLOWED THE TUNNEL MARKED BY THE LETTER D. The route was narrow, two people wide, and extended deep into the bowels of the rock. The path turned twice. Light came from more low-wattage sconces. The chilled, mysterious air carried an acrid quality that stung his eyes. After another few twists, they entered a chamber decorated with magnificent murals. He marveled at their brilliance. The Last Judgment, hell mouthing flames in the river, a Tree of Jesse. Cut into the wall from which they entered were seven doorways, above each of which was a single Roman letter. On the opposite wall seven more doorways, a solitary letter above each, too.
D M V S O A I.
“We take the O, right?” Pam said.
He smiled. “You catch on fast. That arbor is the way through this maze. There’s going to be seven more of these junctures. V O S V A V V. That’s what’s left. Thomas Bainbridge left an important clue—but one that makes no sense until you get here. That’s why the Guardians left it alone for three hundred years. It’s meaningless.”
“Unless you’re in this rat maze.”
They kept moving forward through the puzzle of passageways, misleading corridors, and dead ends. The time and energy required to construct the tunnels staggered Malone’s imagination. But the Guardians had been at their task for two-thousand-plus years—plenty of time to be both innovative and thorough.
Seven more junctions appeared and he was pleased to see that each time a letter from the arbor appeared above a door. He kept his gun ready but heard nothing ahead of them. Each juncture contained a different marvel of hieroglyphs, cartouches, alphabet engravings, and cuneiform symbols.
Past the seventh intersection and into another tunnel, he knew that the final path lay ahead.
They turned a corner, and the light from the exit ahead was clearly brighter than the other junctures. McCollum could be there waiting, so he positioned Pam behind him and crept forward.
At the end, he stayed in the shadows and peered inside.
The room was large, maybe forty feet square, with overhead chandeliers. The walls towered twenty feet and were covered in mosaic maps. Egypt. Palestine. Jerusalem. Mesopotamia. The Mediterranean. Detail was minimal, coastlines tapered off into the unknown, and the writing was in Greek, Arabic, and Hebrew. On the opposite wall were seven more doors. The one with the letter M above it surely opened into the library itself.
They stepped inside the chamber.
“Welcome, Mr. Malone,” a male voice said.
Two men took form from the darkness of one of the other doorways. One was the Guardian whom McCollum had earlier held at gunpoint, minus his straw hat. The other was Adam from Haddad’s apartment and the monastery in Lisbon.
Malone aimed his weapon.
Neither the Guardian nor Adam moved. Both men simply stared at him with concerned expressions.
“I’m not your enemy,” Adam said.
“How did you find us?” Pam asked.
“I didn’t. You found me.”
Malone thought about how the man standing across from him had gunned down George Haddad. Then he noticed that Adam was dressed similarly to the younger Guardian—baggy pants, cloak tucked into his waistband, rope belt, and sandals.
Neither man was armed.
He lowered his gun.
“You’re a Guardian?” he asked Adam.
“A faithful servant.”
“Why did you kill George Haddad?”
“I didn’t.”
Movement behind the two men caught Malone’s attention. He saw a third figure step from the doorway.
Eve from Haddad’s apartment. Alive and well.
“Mr. Malone,” she said. “I’m the assistant librarian and we owe you an explanation, but it must be quick.”
He kept his composure.
“We were there in London to create an illusion. It was imperative that you continue forward, and the Librarian believed the ruse was the best way to accomplish that goal.”
“The Librarian?”
She nodded. “He leads us. We aren’t many, but have always been enough to protect this place. Many Guardians have served. I’m sure you saw their bones in the church. But the world is changing. It’s becoming increasingly difficult for us to continue our mission. We are about to be without funds, and our recruitment, of late, has been dismal. Then there is the threat.”
He waited for her to explain.
“For the past several years someone has been seeking us. They’ve even involved governments. The incident five years ago with George Haddad—where you were able to secret him away—left an invitee both known and exposed. That has never happened before. All the invitees from the past kept their pledge of secrecy, save one—Thomas Bainbridge. We’re fortunate, though, in that his transgression proved useful. Your quest was made possible by Bainbridge’s lack of character.”
“You knew we were coming?” Pam asked.
“Most of your journey was stimulated by us, except that the Israelis have been quite aggressive in trying to find you. Even the Americans were involved. But it seems for different reasons. Everyone was willing to bargain us away. The Librarian decided to set into motion events that we controlled, ones that could lead the relevant players straight here.”
“How is that possible?” he asked.
“You’re here, aren’t you?”
“We were in London,” Adam said, “to move you. We used some theatrical special effects to convince you of the shootings.” Adam faced Pam. “Shooting you was an accident. I didn’t expect you to be outside.”
“That makes two of us,” Malone said. But there was something else. He faced Eve. “George shot you. I took his gun. It was loaded with live ammunition.”
“Yes, thank goodness he has good aim. I’m still sore, but the vest did its job.”
“We went to Lisbon,” Adam said, “to keep you moving forward, along with diverting the Israelis. We needed the three of you to come here alone. The others, in the abbey, were part of a Mossad assassination unit. But you eliminated them.”
Malone glanced at Pam. “Looks like you definitely weren’t the only one played.”
“The man who came here with you is named Dominick Sabre,” Eve said, “though his birth name is James McCollum. He works for an organization known as the Order of the Golden Fleece. He’s come to take the library.”
“
And I brought him,” Malone said.
“No,” Adam said. “We allowed you to bring him.”
“Where is this Librarian?” Pam asked.
Adam motioned at the doorways. “In there. He went with Sabre. At gunpoint.”
“Cotton,” Pam said. “You realize what they’re saying? If Eve wasn’t killed then—”
“The Librarian is George Haddad.”
Eve nodded, tears forming in her eyes. “He’s going to die.”
“He’s taken Sabre inside,” the younger Guardian said, “knowing that he will not return.”
“How does he know that?” Malone asked.
“Either the Order or Sabre wants this site for themselves. Which one? That remains to be seen. But we will all be killed, regardless. Since we’re but a few, that will not be difficult to accomplish.”
“No weapons in this place?”
Adam shook his head. “Not allowed here.”
“Is what’s back there worth dying for?” Pam asked.
“Without question,” Adam said.
Malone knew what was happening. “Your Librarian was responsible for the death of a Guardian long ago. He thinks his death will be an atonement for that sin.”
“I know,” Eve said. “This morning he watched as you parachuted and knew this was his final day. He told me what he had to do.” She stepped forward. Tears now streaked her cheeks. “He said you would stop what was happening. So save him. He need not die. Save us all.”
Malone faced the doorway marked M and gripped the gun tight. He dropped his pack to the floor and told Pam, “Stay here.”
“No,” she said. “I’m going.”
He faced her. This woman, whom he’d both loved and hated, seemed, like Haddad, at a crossroads herself.
“I want to help,” she said.
He had no idea what would happen in there. “Gary needs at least one parent.”
Her gaze locked on him. “That old man needs us, too.”
SEVENTY-SEVEN
MARYLAND
STEPHANIE LISTENED TO FOX NEWS RADIO. THE CAR BOMBING had been reported, the vehicle’s registration run, and Daley identified. Patrons inside the restaurant had corroborated his physical identification, along with describing a woman who’d been sitting with him. Witnesses had told how the woman and another dark-skinned female fled the scene before police arrived.
