“It’s a cliff,” Tess explained. Her eyes were ablaze with excitement. “A pretty big one, in fact. They would have seen it as they started heading up the mountain. And they would have had to go the other way— counterclockwise. Which, as it turns out, is the more direct route for them anyway.”
Reilly leaned in for a better look, his interest piqued. “What if their approach was from farther east? They would have hit the mountain on the other side of that cliff and gone around it the other way.”
“I doubt that,” Tess countered. “Look at the area here, north of the mountain. Kayseri’s been around for over five thousand years. It was one of the most important Seljuk cities. If our Templars were looking to go unnoticed, they would have steered clear of it too—and given that they were coming from the northwest, they would have skirted around it from the west, maybe through the valleys of Cappadocia, where they would have found good cover with the Christian communities who’d been sheltering in that area’s caves and underground cities since the earliest days of the faith. And I did some more digging around, if you’ll pardon the pun. This area right here?” She indicated the northwestern flank of the mountain. “Very popular with mountaineers, year-round. I’ve got to think that if the ruins of the monastery were there, I would have found some mention of it on some Web site. And this side, the north face, is where the skiing resort is. Same thing there. The whole face must have been surveyed to death. Someone would have seen it and made a note of it.” She framed Reilly with an assured, adrenaline-charged look. “You want a smaller search area? Forget about the right side of the mountain, Sean. Concentrate on the western half.”
Reilly studied the map for a beat, then looked up at Tess. “If you’re wrong, we’ll miss him.”
Tess thought about it for brief moment, then nodded. “We might miss him anyway if we need to monitor the whole mountain. I really think it’s the right call.”
He held her gaze, enjoying the radiance lighting up her face, feeling her enthusiasm and her confidence infuse him. “Okay,” he said. “I’ll let them know.”
Tess smiled, clearly pleased with his response. As he pushed himself out his chair, she said, “We should be there, you know. Waiting for him.”
Reilly turned and was about to say something when she cut him off.
“Don’t.”
He looked lost. “What?”
“Don’t start. With the spiel.”
He was genuinely confused. “What spiel?”
“You know, the spiel where you say you’re going out there but I should stay here because it’s way too dangerous, and I say, no, you need me there ‘cause I understand all the Templar mumbo jumbo, then you insist that’s not gonna happen, I counter-insist that without me you might miss the one clue that’ll lead you to him, then you play dirty and tell me that I should really be thinking about Kim and be a good mom, I get all peeved at you for bringing it up and insinuating I’m a bad mom …” A playful, questioning look spread across her face. “Are we really going to do this? Seriously? ‘Cause you know I’m gonna end up coming along anyway, right? You must know that.”
Reilly just stared at her, looking baffled, her verbal fusillade still ricocheting inside his skull. Then, without saying anything, he just raised his hand in defeat, turned, and walked off.
She was still grinning as he left the room.
Chapter 26
Jed Simmons drifted back to consciousness with the dry mouth and the grogginess of a big, boozy night out. The sight that gradually fell into focus, though, quickly dispelled any vague illusions that this was the result of anything even remotely enjoyable. He was in the front passenger seat of some kind of SUV that was driving through unfamiliar terrain—vast, sun-soaked plains that seemed to stretch forever. The sensation from his right wrist confirmed the uncomfortable feeling. It was tied to the door’s armrest, a plastic snap-cuff anchoring it in place.
The voice of the man in the driver’s seat brought the whole nightmare crashing back.
“Wakey wakey,” his abductor said. “There’s a bottle of water and some chocolate bars in the bag by your feet. You should have some. I imagine you must be feeling pretty dried out right now.”
Simmons was too tired—and too angry—to resist. From all the time he’d spent in the desert in Jordan, he knew how crucial it was to remain properly hydrated, for both mind and body, both of which were currently in a lousy state.
He reached down to the bag with his free arm, and as he leaned over, he felt something uncomfortable around his waist, something he hadn’t felt before. He looked down and shifted in his seat, checking it out with his free arm, trying to suss out what it might be. There was something there, under his shirt.
He was moving to pull his shirt up when the man said, “The less you disturb it, the better.”
Simmons’s arm froze. He raised his gaze at his abductor.
The man was just staring at the road ahead, concentrating on the driving, his face impassive as slate.
“What … you did this?”
The man nodded.
Simmons was afraid to ask, but the words spilled out of his consciousness, slowly, as if from beyond his control.
“What is it?”
The driver thought about it for a beat, then turned to Simmons and said, “On second thought, maybe you should have a look.”
Simmons eyed him for an uncomfortable beat, unsure about whether or not he really wanted to see it, whatever it was. Then his resistance broke and he pulled his shirt up.
He had something on, around his waist, just above his trousers. A belt of some kind, a couple of inches or so wide, made up of tough, shiny material, like sailcloth. It seemed innocuous enough—until he pulled out the shirt some more and spotted the padlock that connected two brass eyelets that had been sewn into it and kept the belt locked tight. Then he saw something even more alarming: a bulge, on the front part of the belt. There was something sewn into it, something hard that felt no bigger than a pack of cards. There was no access to it that he could see, no pocket or zipper or Velcro flap. It was embedded inside the belt.
A stab of dread tore through him.
“What is that?” Simmons asked, his temples suddenly pounding outward. “What have you done?”
“It’s a small bomb. Nothing fancy. A bit of Semtex and a detonator. Remote-controlled.” He pulled out his phone and held it up for Simmons to see, then slipped it back into his pocket. “Just big enough to blow a hole the size of my hand through your belly.” He held up his hand, fingers extended as if they were clasping an imaginary baseball, to graphically drive the point home. “If and when it blows up, the odds are it won’t kill you instantly. You could live for a minute, maybe even more, and you’ll actually be able to see the crater it will have made. Not very pleasant though,” his abductor added. “I wouldn’t recommend it.”
Simmons felt like he was about to throw up. He shut his eyes and tried to take in some air but found that he was having trouble breathing. He couldn’t understand what this thing was doing on him, but a meek “Why?” was all he could manage.
“Motivation.”
Simmons just stared at him, his mind strangled with fear.
“Motivation to behave,” his abductor told him. “We’re going to be doing some sightseeing, and I need to make sure you don’t do anything stupid. So I’m hoping that the threat of having your guts blown straight out of your back will be a reliable motivator for you to do as you’re told. It usually does the trick.” He slid a sideways glance at Simmons, seemingly studying his reaction, then added, “Oh, and don’t try to undo the buckle. It’s locked shut.” He smiled. “Just think of it as a chastity belt. To block out any wild urges you might have.”
Simmons slumped back in his seat and looked ahead, drowning in despair. The occasional car trundled past in the opposite direction, but there were few vehicles on the road, which was narrow and uneven.
“Where are we going?” he finally asked, not really sure what difference it would make.
“Up to the mountains. I think the fresh air will do you a world of good,” the driver replied, a hint of a grin now
