“You going in there, Bene?”
“You’re out of the loop on this one. Okay?”
He hoped his friend understood.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” Tre asked.
“Not really. But I’m doing it anyway.”
He ended the call.
“What’s your interest in all this?” Sagan asked him.
“I’ve been asking myself that question all day. Now it’s just a matter of pride. What’s yours?”
Sagan shrugged. “Seems to be my assigned job.”
“You were about to kill yourself in Florida. What changed for you?”
He saw that Sagan was surprised he knew that.
“I had a spy in Simon’s camp. He kept me better informed than Jamison. Simon needed you. He went after you. Your daughter lied to you. Yeah, man, I know the story. At least up to a point. Now here you are. This is more than a job. Much more. This is damn personal for you.”
“Your father alive?”
Strange question. “Been dead a long time.”
“Mine was to me, too, then he really died. I disappointed him.”
Now he could understand. “But not this time?”
“Something like that.”
“I know some of the story of the Jews’ treasure here. Maybe stuff you don’t know.”
And he told Sagan about the cave, Columbus’ grave, and the four objects that had been there, now gone.
“That cave where I went is not at Falcon Ridge. It’s a mile or so away.”
“Is there a river?”
He nodded. “Runs from one to the other.”
“Then we’re in the right place. My grandfather took those four objects out of there and moved them to Falcon Ridge.”
“So they could still be here?”
“We’ll soon find out.”
“How do you know I won’t kill you and keep them for myself?”
“I don’t. But, to be honest with you, Mr. Rowe, I don’t really give a damn. Like you said, I was ready to die a few days ago.”
He was liking this man more and more. “Call me Bene. No one calls me mister. And not to worry, Thomas —”
“I’m Tom. Almost nobody calls me Thomas.”
“Then not to worry, Tom, you’re in good hands with me.”
CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
ALLE SAT IN THE REAR SEAT AND WONDERED WHAT WAS HAPPENING. She’d felt safer with Zachariah in Prague, but did not have the same feeling here. Rocha still turned her stomach, his apology not nearly enough, and it had taken all she had to ride on the plane with him.
Thoughts of the Temple treasure filled her brain.
Her family had kept a secret for a long time. One that traced its roots straight back to Christopher Columbus. Now here they were, in Jamaica, where the Columbus family had ruled for 150 years. They’d kept the Inquisition out, creating a safe haven for Jews in the New World. Was it possible that the menorah, the divine table, and the silver trumpets still existed?
Zachariah certainly thought so.
She’d heard what Bene Rowe had said on the phone.
Falcon Ridge.
That was the place.
Where, apparently, her father was headed.
Still, she was apprehensive, her body coated in a cold sweat. Outside was dark but a full moon cast an eerie light, mummifying the world. They’d stopped at a convenience store and obtained a Jamaican road map, one showing that their destination was less than an hour ahead, paved roads most of the way. In the store Zachariah had also bought three flashlights and given her one, assuring her things were under control.
But she wondered.
Brian Jamison had claimed that he worked for Bene Rowe, then later changed that to being an American agent. Which was the truth? Zachariah had told her from the beginning that there would be people who would try to stop
