The Paris Vendetta

Dr. Joseph Murad.

He punched REDIAL. The professor answered on the first ring.

“I did it,” Murad said. “I figured it out.”

“You know the location?”

“I think so.”

“Have you called Henrik?”

“I just did. I couldn’t reach you, so I called him. He wants me to meet him.”

“You can’t do that, Professor. Just tell me where and I’ll handle it.”

SIXTY-SIX

3:40 PM

ASHBY WAS LED FROM THE BOAT AT GUNPOINT NEAR THE ÎLE SAINT GERMAIN, south of the old city center. He now knew that the man who held him was Peter Lyon and the man on the tour boat had most likely been an American agent. A car waited up from the river, at street level. Two men sat inside. Lyon signaled and they exited. One opened the rear door and yanked Caroline out into the afternoon.

“Your Mr. Guildhall won’t be joining us,” Lyon said. “I’m afraid he’s been permanently detained.”

He knew what that meant. “There was no need to kill him.”

Lyon chuckled. “On the contrary. It was the only option.”

The situation had just gravitated from serious to desperate. Obviously, Lyon had been monitoring everything Ashby had been doing, since he knew exactly where Caroline and Guildhall could be found.

He spied unrestrained fear on Caroline’s lovely face.

He was scared, too.

Lyon led him forward and whispered, “I thought you might need Miss Dodd. That’s the only reason she’s still alive. I would suggest that you don’t waste the opportunity I’ve offered her.”

“You want the treasure?”

“Who wouldn’t?”

“You told me last night in London that things like that didn’t interest you.”

“A source of wealth unknown to any government, with no accounting. There’s so much I could do with that at my disposal-and I wouldn’t have to deal with cheats like you.”

They stood beyond a busy street, the car parked among a patch of trees bleached from winter. No one was in sight, the area largely a commercial center and boat repair facility, closed for the holiday. Lyon again withdrew the gun from beneath his coat and screwed a sound suppressor to the short barrel.

“Set her back in the car,” Lyon directed as they approached.

Caroline was shoved across the rear seat. Lyon stepped to the open door and thrust his arm inside, aiming the gun directly at her.

She gasped. “Oh, God. No.”

“Shut up,” Lyon said.

Caroline started to cry.

“Lord Ashby,” Lyon said. “And you, too, Miss Dodd. I’m only going to ask this once. If a truthful answer is not immediately forthcoming, clear and concise, then I will fire. Does everyone understand?”

Ashby said nothing.

Lyon stared straight at him. “I didn’t hear you, Lord Ashby.”

“What’s not to understand?”

“Tell me where the treasure is located,” Lyon said.

When Ashby had left Caroline earlier she was still developing the particulars, though she’d at least determined an initial starting point. He hoped, for both their sakes, she knew a lot more now.

“It’s in the cathedral, at Saint-Denis,” Caroline quickly said.

“You know where?” Lyon asked, his eyes locked on Ashby, the gun inside the car, still aimed.

“I believe so. But I need to go there to be sure. I have to see. I just figured all this out-”

Lyon withdrew his arm and lowered the weapon. “I hope, for your sake, you can determine the location.”

Ashby stood still.

Lyon aimed the gun his way. “Your turn. Two questions, and I want simple answers. Do you have a direct line of communication to the Americans?”

That was easy. He nodded.

“Do you have a phone with you?”

He nodded again.

“Give me the phone and the number.”

MALONE STOOD WITH SAM, TRYING TO DECIDE ON THE NEXT course of action, when Stephanie’s cell phone sprang to life. She checked the display and said, “Ashby.”

He knew better. “Apparently Lyon wants to talk to you.”

She hit SPEAKER.

“I understand that you are the person in charge,” a male voice said.

“The last time I looked,” Stephanie said.

“You were in London last night?”

“That was me.”

“Did you enjoy the show today?”

“We’ve had great fun chasing after you.”

Lyon chuckled. “It kept you sufficiently occupied so I could deal with Lord Ashby. He is untrustworthy, as I’m sure you’ve discovered.”

“He’s probably thinking the same thing about you at the moment.”

“You should be grateful. I did you a favor. I allowed you to monitor my conversation with Ashby at Westminster. I appeared at the Ripper tour so you could follow. I left the little towers for you to find. I even attacked your agent. What else did you need? But for me, you would have never known that the tower was Ashby’s true target. I assumed you’d find a way to stop it.”

“And if we hadn’t, what would it have mattered? You’d still have your money, off to the next job.”

“I had faith in you.”

“I hope you don’t expect anything for it.”

“Heavens, no. I just didn’t want to see that fool Ashby succeed.”

Malone realized they were witnessing Peter Lyon’s infamous arrogance. It wasn’t enough that he was two steps ahead of his pursuers, he needed to rub that fact in their faces.

“I have another piece of information for you,” Lyon said. “And this one is quite real. No distraction. You see, the French fanatics whom this entire endeavor was to be blamed on had a condition to their involvement. One I never mentioned to Lord Ashby. They are separatists, upset over the unfair treatment they have received at the hands of the French government. They loathe the many oppressive regulations, which they regard as racist. They’re also tired of protesting. Seems it accomplishes little, and several of their mosques have been closed in Paris over the past few years as punishment for their activism. In return for assisting me at the Invalides, they want to make a more poignant statement.”

Malone did not like what he was hearing.

“A suicide bombing is about to occur,” Lyon said.

Chilly fingers caressed Malone’s spine.

“During Christmas services in a Paris church. They thought this fitting, since their houses of worship are being closed every day.”

There were literally hundreds of churches in Paris.

After three duds, it’s hard to take you seriously,” she made clear.

“I see your point, but this one is real. And you can’t rush there with police. The attack would occur before anyone could stop it. In fact, it’s nearly imminent. Only you can prevent it.”

“Bullshit,” Stephanie said. “You’re just buying more time for yourself.”

“Of course I am. But can you afford to gamble that what I’m saying is a lie?”

Malone saw in Stephanie’s eyes what he was thinking, too.

We have no choice.

“Where?” she asked.

Lyon laughed. “Not that easy. It’s going to be a bit of a hunt. Of course, a churchful of people are counting on you making it there in time. Do you have ground transportation?”

“We do.”

“I’ll be in touch shortly.”

She clicked the phone off.

Exasperation swept across her face, then vanished into the confidence that twenty-five years in the intelligence business had bestowed.

She faced Sam. “Go after Henrik.”

Professor Murad had already told them that the Cathédrale de Saint-Denis was Thorvaldsen’s destination.

“Try to keep him under control until we can get there.”

“How?”

“I don’t know. Figure it out.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Malone smiled at his sarcasm. “That’s how I used to say it, too, when she’d cut my tail. You can handle him. Just hold the line, keep things under control.”

“That’s easier said than done with Henrik.”

He laid a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “He likes you. He’s in trouble. Help him.”