Brimstone

"The one he gave Grove?"

"Exactly. And recall the count himself was careful to point out to me that, had Grove lived only one more day, he would have been forty million dollars richer."

"Yeah. Anytime someone volunteers an alibi, something's fishy."

"The count's Achilles' heel is his volubility."

"That and his big mouth."

"I began to search for weaknesses in the count. He was clearly a dangerous man, and I felt we needed every advantage we could get-just in case. You may recall the comment of the colo

D'Agosta nodded silently.

"Some of these societies take themselves extremely seriously, even if their original function has long passed and all that remains are empty observances and ceremonies. The count, coming from one of the most ancient families, surely belonged by hereditary right to a number of them. I e-mailed Constance, who managed to unearth several possibilities. I followed up with some of my own contacts here in Italy."

"When?"

"The night before last."

"And here I thought you were fast asleep in your hotel suite."

"Sleep is an unfortunate biological requirement that both wastes time and leaves one vulnerable. At any rate, I uncovered hints of the existence of the Comitatus Decimus, the Company of Ten. It was a group of assassins formed during the most contentious years of the thirteenth century, long before the Medici came to power. One of the founders of the order was a French baron named Hugo d'Aquilanges, who brought to Florence some peculiar manuscripts full of the dark arts. Using these manuscripts, the group conjured up the devil-or so they believed-to aid in their midnight assassinations. They swore blood secrecy to each other, and any violation was punishable by immediate death. The cavaliere Mantun de Ardaz da Fosco was another of the founders; he passed membership with the title to his son and so forth, down to our Fosco. Their line, apparently, was also the keeper of the library of the Comitatus. It was these ancient documents Fosco used in conjuring up the devil for Bullard and the rest on All Hallows' Eve. Whether he pla

"But you still haven't explained how you knew Fosco belonged."

"The research indicated that when the hereditary member is inducted into the society, he is marked with a black spot-a tattoo, really-using a bottle of ashes from the corpse of Mantun de Ardaz, who was drawn, quartered, and burned in the Piazza della Signoria for heresy. This black spot is placed directly over the heart."

"And when did you get a glimpse of that ?"

"When I interviewed him at the Sherry Netherland. He wore an open-necked white shirt. Of course, at the time I didn't understand its significance-it merely looked like a large mole."

"But you remembered it."

"A photographic memory can be quite useful."

Abruptly, Pendergast motioned for D'Agosta to be silent. For about a minute they waited, motionless. Then D'Agosta heard footsteps, a soft knock.

"Come in," Pendergast said.

The door opened and Fosco slipped through, followed by half a dozen men with guns. He bowed. "Good morning to you both. I trust you passed a decent night?"

D'Agosta did not reply.

"And how was your night, Count?" Pendergast asked.

"I always sleep like a baby, thank you."

"Fu

Fosco turned to D'Agosta. "You, on the other hand, look a little peaked, Sergeant. I hope you haven't caught cold."

"You make me sick."

"There's no accounting for taste," Fosco said with a smile. Then he glanced back at Pendergast. "As promised, I've considered your offer. And I have brought you my riposte."

He reached inside his jacket and withdrew a smooth white envelope. He held it out to Pendergast, eyes twinkling.

D'Agosta was startled to see Pendergast go pale as he took the envelope.

"That's right. The very letter you left with Prince Maffei. Unopened and unread. I believe the word here is check , Mr. Pendergast. Your move."

"How did-?" D'Agosta began. Then he fell silent.

Fosco waved his hand. "Mr. Pendergast didn't count on my brilliance. I told Prince Maffei that my castle had been burglarized and that I was concerned for the safety of the Comitatus's most secret manuscript-which, as the librarian of the Comitatus, I of course had in my possession. I asked him if he would hold it himself for safekeeping until the burglars had been caught. Naturally he took me to his most secure repository, where I felt sure he would have placed your letter. I didn't know, of course, what you had said to him about the letter, so I felt it was better not even to mention it. The old fool opened his vault to put in the manuscript, and there, amidst all his moldy old papers, was a fresh, crisp envelope! I knew it had to be yours. A quick sleight of hand and the letter was mine. When you fail to return, the prince Maffei will open his vault and find nothing, and no doubt begin to worry about the toll old age is taking on his feeble mind." Fosco laughed silently, his capacious front shaking, holding out the envelope.

There was a silence as Pendergast stared at the envelope. Then he took it, opened it, glanced at the sheet inside, and let it fall to the ground.

"I said check, but perhaps I should have said checkmate , Mr. Pendergast." He turned to the men standing in the doorway. They were dressed in rough woolen and leather clothing, each pointing a firearm. Another man, in a stained suede jacket, stood behind them. He had a small, sharp face and was watching them with intelligent eyes.

D'Agosta's hand crept toward his gun. Pendergast noticed, made a brief suppressing motion.

"That's right, D'Agosta. Your superior knows it is futile-only in the movies can two men overpower seven. Of course, I am quite willing to see you both die right here and now. But then," he added teasingly, "don't lose hope-there's always the chance you might escape!" He chucked and turned. "Fabbri, disarm these gentlemen."

The man in the leather jacket stepped forward, held out his hand. After a moment, Pendergast removed his backup weapon and handed it to him. With a huge sense of foreboding, D'Agosta reluctantly gave the man his own as well.

"Now search them," said the count.

"You first, Mr. Pendergast," Fabbri said in a heavily accented voice. "Remove your jacket and your shirt. Then stand over there with your arms up."

Pendergast did as ordered, handing each article of clothing to Fabbri. When Pendergast removed his shirt, D'Agosta noticed for the first time that the agent wore a chain around his neck, with a small pendant attached: a strange design of a lidless eye hovering over the image of a phoenix, rising from the ashes of a fire.