trying to leave. One of the gunmen lay dead on the highway.
The car wheeled around.
The helicopter hung fifty feet in the air.
A side door opened and a man with a rifle appeared. The helicopter paralleled the escaping car and she saw, but could not hear, shots. The car veered sharply left and crashed into a tree.
The two men in front lay bleeding on the pavement.
She opened the Suburban’s door.
“Everyone okay there?” a male voice said.
She turned to see the Secret Service agent from the museum standing by the other parked car.
“Yeah. We’re all right.”
Her cell phone was ringing from inside the Suburban. She grabbed the unit and answered.
“Thought you might need some help,” Daniels said.
SABRE FOLLOWED THE GUARDIAN OUTSIDE AND THROUGH THE warren of quiet buildings. The sun cast long shadows past the rooflines and across the uneven street. A ghost town, he thought. Dead, yet alive.
He was taken to another building where, inside, he found a bathroom floored in lead. A tin container suspended from the ceiling fed the toilet with water. He decided the time was now, so he brought out the gun from the monastery, stepped from the toilet, and jammed the barrel into the younger man’s face.
“To the library.”
“You’re not the invitee.”
He made clear, “How about this? I shoot you in the head and find it myself.”
The other man seemed more puzzled than frightened.
“Follow me.”
SEVENTY-FOUR
VIENNA
HERMANN QUICKLY LEARNED THAT THORVALDSEN HAD walked to the
He liked where Thorvaldsen had gone. The building was far enough away that he could deal with his problem in privacy.
And that was exactly what he needed.
THROUGH THE PLANTS AND GLASS WALLS, THORVALDSEN SAW his host coming. He noticed the determined stride and purposeful manner. He also recognized the chief of the guard.
“Gary, Mr. Hermann is on his way. I want you to retreat to the far side and stay among the plants. He’ll likely be in an ill humor and I have to deal with him. I don’t want you involved until I call for you. Can you do that for me?”
The boy nodded.
“Off with you, and stay quiet.”
The boy scampered down a path that cleaved a trail through the transplanted rain forest and disappeared into the foliage.
HERMANN STOPPED OUTSIDE. “WAIT HERE,” HE SAID TO THE chief of the guard. “I don’t want to be disturbed. Make sure.”
He then swung open the wooden door and pushed through the leather curtain. Butterflies flew in silent zigzags across the warm air. Their musical accompaniment had not, as yet, been switched on. Thorvaldsen sat in one of the chairs he and Sabre had occupied a couple of days ago. He immediately saw the letters and removed the gun from his pocket.
“You have my property,” he said in a firm tone.
“That I do. And you apparently want it back.”
“This is no longer amusing, Henrik.”
“I have your daughter.”
“I’ve decided I can live without her.”
“I’m sure you can. I wonder if she realizes.”
“At least I still possess an heir.”
The jab cut deep. “You feel better saying that?”
“Much. But as you aptly noted, Margarete will likely be the ruin of this family once I’m gone.”
“Perhaps she takes after her mother? As I recall, she was an emotional woman, too.”
“In many ways. But I will not have Margarete standing in the way of our success. If you intend to harm her, do it. I want my property back.”
Thorvaldsen motioned with the letters. “I assume you’ve read these?”
“Many times.”
“You’ve always spoken decisively when it comes to the Bible. Your criticisms were pointed and, I have to say, well reasoned.” Thorvaldsen paused. “I’ve been thinking. There are two billion Christians, a little more than a billion Muslims, and about fifteen million Jews. And the words on these pages will anger them all.”
“That’s the flaw of religion. No respect for truth. None of them cares what’s real, only what they can pass off as reality.”
Thorvaldsen shrugged. “The Christians will have to face the fact that their Bible, both New and Old, is manufactured. The Jews will learn that the Old Testament is a record of their ancestors from a place other than Palestine. And Muslims will come to know that their sacred ground, the holiest of places, was originally a Jewish homeland.”
“I don’t have time for this, Henrik. Give me the letters, then my chief of the guard will escort you from the estate.”
“And how will that be explained to the members?”
“You’ve been called back to Denmark. Business emergency.” He glanced around. “Where’s Malone’s son?”
Thorvaldsen shrugged. “Entertaining himself somewhere on the estate. I told him to stay out of trouble.”
“You should have taken that advice yourself. I know of your ties to Israel, and I assume you’ve already informed them of what we’re planning. But as I’m sure you’ve been told, they know we’re after the Library of Alexandria, just as they are. They’ve tried to stop us but have so far been unsuccessful. By now it’s too late.”
“You have a lot of faith in your employee. He might disappoint you.”
Hermann could not voice his own uncertainty. Instead he boldly declared, “Never.”
MALONE STOOD FROM THE TABLE AND WITHDREW HIS GUN from the rucksack.
“I was wondering how long you were going to sit here,” Pam said.
“Long enough to know that our friend isn’t coming back.”
He shouldered the pack and opened the outside door. No hum of voices. No click of hooves. No flute. The compound seemed at once sacred and eerie.
Bells pealed, signaling three PM.
He led the way through a variety of buildings, each with the tint and texture of dead leaves. A tower, the color of putty, stood solemnly, topped by a convex roof. The street’s unevenness revealed its age. The only sign of habitation came from clothes-underwear, socks, trousers-hanging to dry from a balcony.
Around a corner he spotted McCollum and Straw Hat, a hundred feet away, traversing a small square with a fountain. The monastery obviously had access to a well, as water didn’t seem a problem. Neither did power, considering the number of solar panels and satellite dishes.
McCollum held a gun to Straw Hat’s head.
“Good to know we were right about our partner,” he whispered.
“Guess he wants a first look.”
