The Columbus Affair: A Novel

Rocha nodded. “I’ve kept the payments current. They’ve always said, if there’s anything we need, just ask.”

“Ask. Then use GPS and track my phone. I want to know exactly where Alle Becket is in this city. I am not going to trust all that is at stake to the whim of some naive girl.”

———

BENE HEARD THE NAME.

Simon.

A chill gripped his spine.

This man wasn’t calling for any approval from Havana. He was calling for marching orders. He employed hundreds just like this minion. Eyes and ears across Jamaica who made sure he was informed, money the fuel that kept that information highway flowing.

He fled the window and made his way back to the storage room.

“We need to leave,” he said to Halliburton.

“I’ve barely scratched the surface. I need more time.”

“We have to go, Tre.”

“What’s going on?”

“That curator is selling us out.”

Tre’s eyes widened. “How do you know that?”

“Like you said on the plane, I’m experienced in these kind of things. We need to go.”

“A few more minutes, Bene. For God sake, there’s real stuff here. I just found some references to Luis de Torres himself.”

He caught the urgency and realized the importance. And he also recalled something else the curator had said. But other materials are locked away, as you ordered.

They’d come this far. A few more minutes may not hurt.

Then again, they could become a real problem.

———

TOM SAT ALONE IN THE DEN. INNA WAS IN HER BEDROOM, MAKING telephone calls, gathering information, doing what reporters did. Of course, not everything found was true or relevant—the tough job was sifting through the fat to find the meat. It had been a long time since he’d assembled a news story, but he hadn’t forgotten how. The one that currently engulfed him was not atypical, and its layers were becoming clearer. The Levite. A key. A man named Berlinger. The golem. Temple treasure. Old Abiram.

And, most troubling of all, Alle.

How they all fit together remained to be seen.

He heard a door open and Inna appeared from down the hall. Her children seemed like good kids who loved and respected their mother. He envied and admired her.

“What happened to your husband?” he asked. “As I recall, your marriage was a good one.”

“That’s what I thought, too. But he had other ideas. He came home one day and said he was leaving. That was five years ago. We’ve barely seen him since.”

“He doesn’t visit the children?”

“They’re not important to him.”

Big mistake, he thought.

“How are they doing?” he asked.

“They seem not to care, but I know better. Children need their parents.”

That they do.

“I found out,” she said, “that the Magellan Billet is a covert division of the U.S. Justice Department. Twelve agents who work special assignments from the attorney general or the White House. It’s headed by a woman named Stephanie Nelle. I was also able to find out that one of the twelve agents is a man named Brian Jamison.”

“I need to know why they are interested in Zachariah Simon.”

“I’m trying, but that may be difficult to learn. After all, Thomas, these people will not be admitting to anything.”

“They might if they know their agent is dead.”

“That’s another problem. Nothing unusual was reported around the cathedral. No police activity. Certainly no body found.”

He wasn’t surprised. Just like eight years ago, he was on his own.

“I’m going to find that Temple treasure.”

“Why do you feel the need? It’s not your fight.”

“It became mine when I read that note from the grave.”