The Machiavelli Covenant

President Harris's eyes narrowed in anger. Deliberately he turned back as if to study his guidebook. "The men's restroom is just down the hallway behind us," he said without looking up. "The door to the outside is immediately past it. Once through it there is a service pathway that comes up from the plaza. Twenty feet in the other direction another path leads off along the cliff face, then turns and disappears from sight under an umbrella of trees. Thirty, forty yards after that are the ruins of an ancient chapel, all as Miguel said. Inside the chapel is what is left of two small chambers. Either will suffice for our chat with Dr. Foxx."

"You still want to go ahead with this?" Marten was incredulous.

"Yes." The president didn't look up.

"Cousin," Marten suddenly leaned in, speaking urgently and in a sotto voice, "I don't think you fully appreciate what's going on here. Foxx thought you were coming but he couldn't be sure until I showed up. Now they know, and I'm sure your 'rescuers' have been alerted. For all we know they could be somewhere here now waiting for you to reveal yourself. When you do they'll take you out of here and into their version of 'protective custody' fast. Cousin, we have to leave and leave now. Go out the back way, call Miguel on his cell phone, then wait somewhere out of sight until he comes. And after that, to quote you, 'God help us.' "

The president closed the guidebook and looked at Marten deliberately, his eyes filled with resolve, "This is Saturday afternoon in Spain; the NATO conference is Monday morning in Warsaw. Our clock is fast ticking down and with it the information we must have from Foxx. My 'rescuers' could arrive in minutes or in hours. If it's minutes we're out of business anyway; if it's the latter, we still have time to do something."

"You're taking a hell of a gamble, Cousin, you know that."

"It's only a gamble when you have a choice." Abruptly Harris stood. "Let's not keep the good doctor waiting any longer than we already have."

91

• 1:40 P.M.

Merriman Foxx was alone and making notes in a pocket organizer when Marten and President Harris entered the private dining room. Demi, Beck, and Luciana were gone, and the table itself had been cleared.

"Ah, gentlemen," Foxx smiled and stood up, as he had when Marten first arrived. "I am Dr. Foxx, Mr. President. It is a great pleasure to meet you, sir." He waved a hand at the empty table, "I'm afraid the others decided to go off and explore on their own. And while we might sit here and chat among ourselves, I think our time could be more interestingly spent if I showed you my laboratory."

"You have a laboratory here?" Marten was surprised.

"Also an office and small apartment," again came Foxx's congenial smile. "All most kindly provided by the Order. It gives me a pleasant respite from all the attention and the undue and unfair questions that have long been put to me about the Tenth Medical, as well as a quiet place to work."

"I'm always curious about another man's workplace, doctor," the president said with no emotion whatsoever.

"So am I, Mr. President. This way, please," Foxx smiled once again and ushered them toward the door. Marten shot Harris a warning glance but got no response.

• 1:45 P.M.

Merriman Foxx led them past the crowded plaza in front of the basilica and then down a narrow stone walkway lined on one side with rows of red and white votive candles.

Marten looked back over his shoulder as they went but saw no one. It was curious that Foxx was alone-no companions, no bodyguard, not even Beck for that matter. But then, except for Demi and Beck and the young woman Cristina, he had been alone when Marten met him at the Café Tripoli in Malta. And according to Beck, Foxx had left there by himself, leaving the reverend to escort the women back to their hotel. So in essence Foxx had been alone in Malta and was alone now. Maybe it was simply his choice or style. Or confidence. Or arrogance. Or all of them put together. After all he was the Dr. Merriman Foxx, the man who had controlled the Tenth Medical Brigade and all its covert operations and "i

Marten was certain Foxx had become who he was out of conceit and sheer will and that by now the idea of bodyguards or henchmen would be an affront to his own force of character. That was unless they were somewhere there unseen and watching, and had been all along.

"This way, please," Foxx turned them down a side walkway and ten seconds later down another. They all looked the same, stone passageways lined by high narrow stone walls that in turn led into others and then into others, one virtually indistinguishable from the next.

The farther they went into this maze the more concerned Marten became. Just finding their way back out and to the area where Miguel would be waiting with the car could become hugely difficult, especially if they were in a hurry. Moreover, Foxx's easy smile and genial ma

In addition, Montserrat itself was an impossible setting. Religious site and tourist destination or not, it was in reality, what he had feared, a small, isolated city set into a high, desolate cliff face miles from anywhere. A place a man could vanish from in a heartbeat and never be found.

Marten was certain that President Harris was as aware of their situation as he was. At the same time he knew the president had far more on his mind than his own safety and that his primary objective was finding a suitable place to get Foxx alone and question him. Which was clearly why he had chosen to let the doctor show the way, especially in the absence of Beck or a bodyguard or anyone else who might interfere. It was why too, despite his fears, Marten knew he had no other choice but to go along and follow the president's lead.

"We're here, gentlemen," Foxx stopped at a heavy wooden door inset in a stone archway.

"A little privacy away from the throngs," he said with a smile, then slid open a wood panel in the stonework next to the door. Inside it was an electronic keypad. Quickly he punched in a code and pressed the pound key, then slid the panel closed and turned an iron knob on the door. The door opened and Foxx ushered them into a large dimly lit room. The ceiling was high and arched. Several tall wooden chairs lined one wall, while a massive bookcase covered the other. The only other furniture was a large wooden desk with a lone chair behind it at the room's far end. Behind it to the right, an ornate carved wooden door was set into an arched nave.

"This was a church council room for many years," Foxx said quietly as he led them down the room toward the nave, "I merely inherited it."

They reached the nave and Foxx opened the door, then guided them into another room, carefully closing the door behind them.

This room was much larger than the first and far different. Twenty feet wide and probably thirty long, it was illuminated by a series of eerily luminous grow-lamps suspended over two dozen bubble-topped rectangular tables.

"This is my work now, gentlemen, and I wanted you to see it firsthand." Foxx indicated the tables. "No bacteria, no spores, no deadly molecules, nothing to be grown into the implements of war.