steady the shot he was about to take.
But he never fired.
A pop muffled by the wind came from Malone's left and the short-hair was thrown back as a bullet sank into his chest. He couldn't tell if the man was wearing a protective vest or not, but it didn't matter. The close shot scrambled his balance and the man's stocky frame teetered. Malone rushed toward him, trying to prevent a fall, and caught sight of two tranquil eyes. He recalled the look from Red Jacket atop the Round Tower. Two more steps was all he needed to reach him, but the wind swept the brother off the promontory and the body rolled downward like a log.
He heard a scream from above. Some of the visitors on the belvedere had apparently witnessed the man's fate. He watched as the body continued to roll, finally settling on a ledge far below.
He turned to Mark, who still held the gun level.
'You okay?'
Mark lowered the weapon. 'Not really. But we need to go.'
He agreed.
They turned and scampered down the stony track.
DE ROQUEFORT RUSHED UP THE STAIRS THAT LED TO THE BELVEDERE. He heard a woman scream and saw excitement as people flocked to the wall. He moved close and asked, 'What happened?'
'A man fell off the edge. Rolled a long way.'
He elbowed his way to the wall. As in the parish close, the stone was nearly a meter wide, making it impossible to see down to the base of the outer wall.
'Where did he fall?' he asked.
'There,' a man said, pointing.
He followed the outstretched finger and saw a figure in a dark jacket with light trousers far down the barren slope, lying still. He knew who it was. Damn. He planted his palms on the rough stone and pushed himself up onto the wall. Pivoting on his stomach, he cocked his head left and saw Mark Nelle and Cotton Malone making their way toward a short incline that led up to the car park.
He dropped back down and retreated to the steps.
He pressed the SEND button on the radio clipped to his waist and whispered into the lapel mike, 'They're coming your way, at the wall's edge. Contain them.'
STEPHANIE HEARD A GUNSHOT. THE POP APPEARED TO HAVE COME from the other side of the wall. But that made no sense. Why would anyone be out there? She and Geoffrey were a hundred feet shy of the car park- which, she noticed, was filled with vehicles, including four buses nestled close to the stone water tower.
They slowed their advance. Geoffrey shielded the gun behind his thigh as they calmly walked ahead.
'There,' Geoffrey whispered.
She saw the man, too. Standing at the far end, blocking the alley down to the church. She turned back and saw another short-hair strolling up the lane behind them.
Then she spotted Mark and Malone as they ran up from the other side of the wall and hopped over the knee- high stone.
She trotted toward them and asked, 'Where have you two been?'
'Out for a stroll,' Malone said.
'I heard shooting.'
'Not now,' Malone said.
'We have company,' she made clear, pointing to the two men.
Mark scanned the scene. 'De Roquefort is orchestrating this whole thing. Time to leave. But I don't have the keys to our car.'
'I have mine,' Malone said.
Geoffrey handed over the knapsack.
'Good job,' Mark said. 'Let's go.'
DE ROQUEFORT HUSTLED PAST THE VILLA BETHANIE AND IGNORED the many visitors making their way toward the Tour Magdala, the tree garden, and the belvedere.
He turned right at the church.
'They're attempting to leave by car,' a voice said in his ear.
'Allow them,' he said.
MALONE BACKED FROM HIS PARKING SPOT AND THREADED HIS way around the other cars to the alley leading to the main rue. He noticed that the short-hairs made no attempt to stop them.
That worried him.
They were being herded.
But to where?
He crept through the alley, past the souvenir kiosks, and turned right onto the main rue, allowing the car to coast down the incline toward the town gate.
Past the restaurant, the crowd thinned and the street cleared.
Ahead, he spotted Raymond de Roquefort, standing in the middle of the lane, blocking the gate.
'He means to challenge you,' Mark said from the rear seat.
'Good, because I can play chicken with the best of them.'
He gently rested his foot atop the accelerator.
A couple of hundred feet and closing.
De Roquefort stayed rooted.
Malone saw no weapon. Apparently the master had concluded his presence alone might stop them. Beyond, Malone saw the road was clear, but a sharp curve lay just outside the gate and he hoped no one decided to come around it in the next few seconds.
He rammed his foot to the floorboard.
Tires grabbed pavement and, with a lurch, the car shot forward.
A hundred feet.
'You plan to kill him,' Stephanie said.
'If I have to.'
Fifty feet.
Malone kept the wheel steady and stared straight at de Roquefort as the man's form grew larger in the windshield. He braced himself for the body's impact and willed his hands to hold tight.
A hurried form leaped from the right and shoved de Roquefort out of the car's path.
They roared out through the gate.
DE ROQUEFORT REALIZED WHAT HAD HAPPENED AND WAS NOT happy. He'd fully prepared himself to challenge his adversary, ready for whatever would come, and he resented the intrusion.
Then he saw who'd saved him.
Royce Claridon.
'That car would have killed you,' Claridon said.
He pushed the man off him and rose to his feet. 'That remained to be seen.' Then he asked what he really wanted to know. 'Was anything learned?'
'They discovered my ruse and I was forced to call for help.'
Anger seethed through him. Again, nothing had gone right. One salvation, though, rang through his brain.
The car they'd left in. Malone's rental.
Still equipped with an electronic monitor.
At least he'd know exactly where they went.
