talked about Houston’s incomparable museum and theater district, aware that a cardinal, unfortunately, always owes his duty to the pope, and not his country of birth. That’s how careers are. Everyone sells his work and loyalty to his job.
‘Did you call me?’ Aris asked from the director’s office door.
‘Yes. Come in and close the door.’
Aris came in and sat down without being asked.
‘I talked with the Holy See,’ Barry informed him.
‘Okay, you’ve got my attention.’
‘It was the only thing I could drag out of that son-of-a-bitch historian. The name of his superior, Cardinal William, who happens to be from Long Beach,’ Barry muttered.
‘Long Beach? How does someone from Long Beach become a cardinal?’ Aris asked curiously.
‘The conversation was cordial. They have almost everything under control,’ Barry continued, ignoring Aris’s remark.
‘Do you believe that?’
‘Of course not. I threw him a few crumbs to let him know we’re informed without letting him know we’re just outside the door.’
‘And the door is still shut,’ Aris added, jokingly. ‘And locked.’
‘Well, he half opened it. An Islamic terrorist group kidnapped Ben Isaac’s son.’
‘Who’s claiming it?’
‘Islamic Jihad.’
‘Those bastards.’
‘They go after the very rich, study them, analyze their weaknesses, and then strike. In this case Ben Isaac’s son,’ Barry explained, joining his hands together on the desk.
Aris thought about the story for several moments and then found flaws. ‘That doesn’t explain what happened in Paris, or Rafael’s presence.’
‘That’s what I thought,’ Barry agreed.
‘What did Cardinal William say?’
‘That Ben Isaac was a devout Catholic and well thought of by the church. Besides, he has partnerships with the Vatican and the Bank of the Holy Spirit.’
‘A banker with interest in banks. Tell me something new,’ Aris said sarcastically. ‘So the guy gives money to the church, and that’s why the priests want to save him. This doesn’t explain the murders. Or the agreement, the Status Quo.’
‘The agreement was another weakness for Ben Isaac. An agreement between financiers. They used the excavations as a way for Ben Isaac to transfer money to the church legally as investments. Islamic Jihad eliminated almost everyone involved to demonstrate they weren’t kidding, and would kill his son in the blink of an eye.’
They thought over William’s explanations, looking for a flaw.
‘Does that seem believable?’ Aris asked finally, lifting his hands behind his neck to stretch.
‘Not at all. The English and French have taken charge of the rescue operation. Let’s wait and see. Then in Rome we’ll know everything. Tell Sam to investigate these partnerships,’ David said, making quotation marks in the air, ‘between Ben Isaac and the Vatican and the Bank of the Holy Spirit.’
‘Okay.’ Aris got up promptly, went to the door, and turned toward Barry. ‘Does this mean that Rafael doesn’t know what he’s doing?’
‘Apparently.’ Barry took out his gun, checked the bullets, and returned it to his holster.
‘Are you leaving?’
‘Let’s go,’ Barry said, grabbing his jacket. ‘Take care of the calls and come with me to the garage. It’s time to deal the cards.’
50
The voice echoed from the speakers in perfect English. Everyone listened in tense silence, some scarcely breathing. Garvis kept his hand in the air to restrain gestures or words. Ben Isaac was standing up next to the dining room table full of electronic paraphernalia. A few technicians were seated with headphones, listening in. Others connected the call to special software that displayed the voices in graphic color on the computer screens.
Sarah put her arm around Myriam, who remained seated on the sofa, shivering with every word from the cold voice issuing from the speakers. This was the man who had hurt her son. Calculating and implacable.
‘Stay calm, Myriam,’ Sarah whispered in her ear. ‘Everything is going to be okay. It’s almost over.’
Myriam wanted to believe those sweet words, but knew they were only painkillers for her soul.
‘Listen carefully because I’m only going to say it once,’ the male voice said. ‘Since you ignored our instructions to get rid of the journalist, we’re going to give you a final opportunity.’ No one missed the emphasis on the word final. ‘She’ll be the one to hand over the parchments. If Sarah Monteiro isn’t at the Gare du Nord in two hours with the parchments in her hand, your son will die. We won’t call again. Ciao, Ben Isaac.’
The call ended abruptly. The man had been very clear. There was no room for doubt. All eyes were on Sarah. Since she’d left Francesco in their room at the Grand Hotel Palatino, everything had been out of her hands. The conversation with William in the Palazzo Madama, his instructions, going to meet Ben Isaac, the flight, the morning sickness, everything had unfolded with a will of its own that she didn’t recognize at all. It was enough to show her that even the remote appearance of control was pure delusion. She’d known it for a long time, since Florence, since JC, Rafael, Simon Templar, and John Fox. Ben Isaac, Myriam, and their son, the French inspector, the English one, all the paraphernalia to detect the undetectable, the phone call, Francesco, Rafael again, always… None of this had impressed her. No one controlled anything, except God, if He existed, Who controlled everything.
Myriam hugged Sarah tightly. ‘Bring me my son, Sarah,’ she pleaded desperately. ‘Don’t let them hurt him. Don’t.’
Garvis lowered his hand, and frenzy broke out in an ordered chaos that only those involved understood.
‘Do we have a location?’ Garvis asked.
‘Rome,’ two technicians said.
‘Jerusalem,’ said another.
‘London.’
‘Dusseldorf.’
‘Oslo.’
‘Does this mean we don’t have a location, Jean-Paul?’ Gavache interjected.
‘We’re lost, Inspector.’
‘What’s going on? The call lasted for more than a minute,’ Garvis asked uncomfortably.
‘One minute and fifty-six seconds,’ Jean-Paul added, to give some precision to the information.
‘We are unable to locate the origin of the call,’ one of the technicians said. ‘They obviously know they’re being monitored.’
‘I agree,’ Gavache said, taking a draw on his cigarette. ‘Or now they’re monitoring us.’
Ben Isaac was exhausted and pulled out a chair to sit down. ‘And now? And now what’s going to happen to my son?’
‘Now? And now, Jean-Paul?’ Gavache asked, looking at Ben Isaac.
‘We’ll do what they say.’
Gavache turned his glance from Ben Isaac to Sarah hugging Myriam. Garvis approached her. ‘Are you willing to do what the kidnappers demand, Sarah?’
Sarah didn’t answer right away. She felt Myriam’s arms squeezing her ever more tightly. It was as if not only the life of her son, little Ben, depended on Sarah’s reply, but her own as well. There was only one answer.
‘You can count on me,’ she finally said, timidly. She didn’t feel like a heroine, just the opposite.
Myriam’s embrace tightened even more, if that were possible. ‘Thank you, Sarah. You’re an angel.’
‘I wasn’t just talking, Myriam,’ she whispered in the ear of the stricken woman to calm her. ‘Everything is
