The Alexandria Link

She savored the steaming brew and allowed a sip to warm her throat. “We need to pay a visit to his house.”

“Why?” Cassiopeia asked. “Even if we manage to get inside, his computer is surely secured by a password.”

She smiled. “Not a problem.”

Green sca

She shook her head and said, “Time to nail that SOB.”

MALONE ENTERED THE SAVOY’S BUSINESS CENTER. THE SPACIOUS facility was fully equipped with computers, faxes, and copiers. He told the attendant what he needed and was quickly ushered to a terminal, the charge applied to McCollum’s room.

He started to sit, but Pam cut him off.

“May I?” she asked.

He decided to allow her the honor. On the walk over from the café he’d seen that she knew what he intended to do.

“Why not? Have at it.”

He handed her the sheet with the begi

“No. I didn’t mention a time. Nice try, Malone.”

“I need to know. It’s important. In the last few months?”

Their benefactor hesitated, then nodded.

Malone had been thinking. “From what I know, the Guardians have been inviting people to the library for centuries. So the clues have to change. They’d adapt the quest to its time. I’m betting they even adapt it to the invitee. Why not? Make it personal. They go to a lot of trouble for everything else. Why not this?”

McCollum nodded. “Makes sense.”

Pam was pounding the keyboard.

“The first part,” Malone said. “How strange are the manuscripts, great traveler of the unknown. They appear separately, but seem as one to those who know that the colors of the rainbow become a single white light. How to find that single ray? That’s bullshit. Just a way of saying there’s a lot of information. But the next part, It is a mystery, but visit the chapel beside the Tejo, in Bethlehem, dedicated to our patron saint. That’s where we start.”

“Got it,” Pam said.

He smiled. She was ahead of him, and he liked that.

“I did a search on Tejo and Bethlehem.”

“Isn’t that too easy?” McCollum asked.

“The Guardians can’t be oblivious to the world. The Internet exists, so why wouldn’t they assume an invitee would use it?”

He stared at the screen. The website Pam had found was for Portugal, a travel and tourism page that dealt with local attractions in and around Lisbon.

“Belém,” Pam said. “Just outside downtown. Where the River Tejo meets the sea. Belém is Portuguese for ”Bethlehem.“”

He read about the point of land southwest of central Lisbon. The spot where Portuguese caravels had long ago set out for the Western world. Da Gama to India, Magellan to circumnavigate the globe, Dias to round the Cape of Good Hope. Belém eventually flourished thanks to the riches-mainly spices-that poured into the country from the New World. The Portuguese king built a summer palace there, and wealthy citizens flocked to surround it. Once a separate municipality, now it was a magnet for tourists who came to enjoy its shops, cafés, and museums.

“Henry the Navigator is co

“Let’s find out,” he said, “about a chapel dedicated to our patron saint.”

A few clicks of the mouse and Pam pointed at the screen. “Way ahead of you.”

A monstrous building of weathered stone filled the screen. Elaborate spires reached for a cloudy sky. The look combined Gothic and Renaissance architecture with obvious Moorish influences. Bold images dotted the stone façade.

“The Monastery of Santa Maria de Belém,” he noted from the screen.

Pam scrolled down, and he read that it was one of Portugal’s best-known monuments, often referred to as the Jerónimos Monastery. Many of the country’s greatest figures, including its kings and queens, were entombed there.

“Why did this show up?” he asked Pam.

She clicked on a link.

“I typed in several key words and the search engine pointed straight here. In 1498, when da Gama returned from his voyage after discovering the route to India, the Portuguese king granted funds for the building of the monastery. The Order of St. Jerome took possession of the site in 1500, and the foundation stone was laid on January 6, 1501.”

He knew the significance of that date from his childhood. His mother had been Catholic and they’d attended church regularly, especially after his father died. January 6. The Feast of the Epiphany.

What had Haddad written in his journal?

Great quests often begin with an epiphany.

“The main chapel at the monastery,” Pam said, “was eventually dedicated to St. Jerome. Cotton, you remember what Haddad said about him.”

He did. An early church father who, in the fourth century, translated many scriptural texts into Latin, including the Old Testament.

“There’s a link to more on Jerome,” she said, and the screen changed with another click of the mouse.

They all three read. Malone saw it first. “He’s the patron saint of libraries. Looks like this quest starts in Lisbon.”

“Not bad, Malone.”

“We earn our keep?”

“Like I said, I’m lousy with puzzles. You two seem good at them. But the rest is tougher.”

He gri

FORTY-FOUR

VIENNA

1:00 PM

THORVALDSEN STEPPED FROM THE BATHROOM AND WATCHED Gary unpack. Other than what he’d been wearing when he was kidnapped a few days ago, the boy had no clothes. So yesterday Jesper had made a trip into Copenhagen and purchased a few things.

“This house is old, isn’t it?” Gary asked.

“Built many generations ago, like Christiangade.”

“Lots of old stuff in Europe. Not like back home.”

He gri

“Great room.”

He, too, thought the accommodations interesting. On the second floor. Near their host. A first for him. A dainty chamber with feminine furnishings that surely once belonged to a woman of taste.

“Do you like history?” he asked.

Gary shrugged. “Not until the past two summers. It’s a lot more interesting here, when you see it.”

He decided it was time to tell the boy their situation. “What did you think of our host and his daughter?”

“Not all that friendly. But they seem to like you.”

“I’ve known Alfred a long time, but I’m afraid he’s plotting something.”

Gary sat on the bed.

“I think he may have been behind your abduction.”

He watched as the boy began to realize their predicament. “You sure?”

He shook his head. “That’s why we’re here. To find out.”

“I want to know, too. Those men upset my mother, and I don’t like that.”

“You afraid?”

“You wouldn’t have brought me if I was in danger.”

He liked the answer. This lad was smart. “You watched two men die. Few fifteen-year-olds can claim that. You okay?”

“The one Dad shot deserved what he got. He tried to take me away. Dad did what he had to. What are you going to do?”

“I’m not sure. But a lot of people will be here over the next few days. Powerful people. From them, I should be able to learn what we need to know.”

“This like a club or something?”

“You could say that. People with similar interests who come together to discuss those interests.”

On the bedside table his cell phone jangled. He stepped across and spied the number. Jesper. He pushed TALK.

“A call has come through. From Tel Aviv.”

“Then by all means let’s hear it.”

A few seconds later, after the co

“Whatever do you mean?”

“Don’t play coy. When you called yesterday I was suspicious, but now I’m downright paranoid.”