But what David truly remembered, just seconds before the blast nearly threw him through the hole, was the severed head Rigaud was cradling beneath his arm. David could have sworn that the mouth was twisted in a silent scream and the steely blue eyes were furious… and alive.
A fireball had hurtled down the length of the tunnel, then out of sight around the corner, where it collided with the cloud of gas in the kitchen, sending an earthshaking explosion up through the very rafters of the chateau. David and Ascanio, scuttling down the chimney to the river, feared the cliff itself would collapse around them. Dirt and dust filled the air, choking them, and the steps quivered under their stumbling feet.
At the bottom, they crawled out, coughing and sputtering, onto the rocks and mud of the riverbank. David, after catching a breath, turned to look up at the promontory. Bright orange flames were licking up at the sky, as fire burst like streamers from the windows, and the towers, one by one, crumbled and fell.
A burning timber caromed off the cliff top and, turning end over end, splashed with a boiling hiss into the Loire.
“Let’s get out of range!” David said, helping Ascanio up and back toward the old loading dock.
They climbed along the bank, then into the woods, but just where David hoped to see the Maserati, he saw nothing. For a second, he thought he’d lost his bearings, but then a pair of headlights flashed on from the neighboring trees, and he heard a car door fling open.
“David!”
Olivia was running full tilt, in a bulky sweater and a pair of white socks, with her arms out.
“Help me,” he said, and Olivia threw a supporting arm around Ascanio’s waist. Together, they deposited him, as gently as they could, in the cramped backseat of the Peugeot.
And then they held each other close, rocking silently in the moonlight. In the distance, David could hear the crackling of the flames, punctuated by the crash of timbers and stone.
“So you got it,” she said, touching La Medusa as tenderly as one would touch the crown of a baby’s head.
“Yes,” David replied, holding her more tightly. “Now I have everything.”
“Can we get the hell out of here?” Ascanio growled. “It’s a long way back to Paris.”
Olivia slipped behind the wheel and, after taking another gander at the splint, handed the bag of drugs to Ascanio. “I’m sure you’ll find some painkillers in there. I’ll find the closest hospital.”
“No!” he objected. “I told you, we’re going straight back. I’m not having some hick doctor meddle with my leg.”
As she pulled the car back onto the trail, she glanced over at David to see what he thought, but he appeared to agree with their passenger. “Paris,” he said, resolutely. “As fast as we can get there.”
“But I’ll still need to know something,” Ascanio said, popping open a vial of pills and hastily swallowing several of them dry. “If you traded the Maserati for this piece of shit, you will please have to tell me why.”
Part Five
Chapter 42
Olivia drove the little Peugeot straight into the hospital emergency entrance, and David had hoisted Ascanio halfway out of the backseat before he protested and grabbed for the Medusa hanging under David’s shirt.
“That belongs to Sant’Angelo!” he said, his words slurred by the Percocets he’d taken. “Give it to me!”
But David pulled back and let the emergency workers running out of the hospital strap Ascanio to a gurney and wheel him inside. It was clear he had lost a lot of blood, and the makeshift tourniquet was all but falling off. One of the doctors was asking David a battery of questions about what had happened and who the man was, when David-pleading that he spoke no French-bolted back to the car and told Olivia to gun it.
“Wait!” the doctor shouted, running down the drive as the Peugeot pulled away. “You can’t do this!”
But David watched the hospital recede in the rearview mirror, as Olivia headed back into the Paris traffic. Even she looked uncertain about what to do next.
“The airport,” he said.
“You don’t want to call the marquis? There’s quite a lot you should tell him, no?” While Ascanio, knocked out by the drugs, had snored in the backseat, David had filled her in during the long drive from the Loire Valley, and it was a miracle that she had been able to keep control of the car the whole way. He could think of no one else in the world who would have been able to do the same.
“Maybe the marquis could help?” she added.
“No,” David said. “Just drive.”
Using the BlackBerry from the doctor’s bag, he hastily dialed Gary’s number in Chicago.
“It’s me,” he said, the second Gary picked up. “How is she?”
“Hanging on. Where the hell are you?”
“On the way to Orly Airport.” He had not wanted to have this discussion with Ascanio in the car-snoring or not.
“You’re not on a plane yet?” Gary said, sounding downright angry.
“I’ll explain later. I’m coming as fast as I can.”
He heard Gary blow out a breath in disgust. “Maybe I didn’t make it clear enough, David. There’s not much time. Emme was here all afternoon, and for all I know, that’ll be the last time she ever gets to see her mom. Sarah’s waiting for you, David. She’s been waiting for you. But there’s only so much she can do.”
“I know,” David said, his fingers automatically feeling for the Medusa. “I know.”
“Christ,” Gary said, “no promotion is that important.”
That hurt, but David knew where it was coming from. Gary didn’t understand the delay-how could he? And what could David have ever said that would have persuaded him? “Please, just tell her I’m coming. I’m coming!”
When he hung up and the car had to stop at a traffic light, he felt Olivia’s eyes on him.
“You don’t trust Sant’Angelo?” she asked.
And David admitted, “No, not completely.” He turned to look at her. “He thinks the mirror is his.”
“It is, isn’t it?”
“But he’s not the one who sent me to find it. And he’s not the one who promised to save my sister’s life with it.”
“What if he said he would let you?”
“What if he said he wouldn’t?” he replied. “Can I take that chance? Now?”
The light changed, and Olivia took off again. David set his jaw and tried to gather his thoughts. Everything had been moving so fast, and there was no letup in sight. But in his gut he knew that returning to the marquis’s town house could cause anything from a fatal delay to the loss of the Medusa altogether. No matter what he did, he would be forced to betray someone-Mrs. Van Owen or the Marquis di Sant’Angelo. He’d had to make a choice, and with Sarah’s life hanging in the balance, he’d done the only thing he could possibly do.
Now he just prayed that the instructions in The Key to Life Eternal would work. He knew every word of the text by heart-he had read them a hundred times-but putting them into effect would be another matter altogether.
As they neared the airport, the traffic slowed. Buses and taxis vied for space with thousands of cars, and the lanes were narrowed for random security checks.
“Try Air France,” David said, thinking it would probably be his best bet. If not, he could always run to another terminal.
Olivia jockeyed the car to the curb, cutting off a rental van with only inches to spare, and abruptly stopped.
They turned to each other and she said, “You’re going to make it, David. I can feel it.”
David wished he felt the same way. Reaching out to her, he held her close, kissed her, and said, “Stay safe. I will come back as soon as I can.”
A cop waved his baton, urging them to move along.
