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As Simon read he watched Alle, who clearly seemed uncomfortable.
“This is all?” Simon asked.
“Abiram was a man of few words. That was actually a long conversation for him. I think the note makes clear that I had no idea he was some kind of Levite. Now that task is supposedly mine.”
“As I told you in Florida, you are not worthy even to say that word.”
“Are we done?”
Simon nodded. “Our business is concluded. Perhaps you can now finish what you started at your father’s house.”
He resisted the urge to slug the SOB. “Or maybe I’ll shoot you.”
Simon frowned. “There is one other matter you might care about. Something I doubt your daughter will tell you. She was not kidnapped. At least not by me. She willingly participated in the charade you witnessed.”
He told himself to stay calm.
“Tell him,” Simon said to Alle. “The truth is always best.”
Alle said nothing, but she was clearly surprised by Simon’s admission.
“I mention this because she actually was kidnapped yesterday by others, released today thanks to me.”
“I was told you were going to kill me,” Alle said.
“I assure you, the danger was from them, not me.” Simon faced Tom. “Her kidnappers work for a business associate of mine who decided to change our relationship. I intervened and made a deal for her release. I mention this because the man who took her prisoner just entered the church.”
———
ALLE WHIRLED AND SAW BRIAN, STANDING AT THE OPPOSITE END of the nave. He’d said he was going to wait outside.
Another lie.
“He is no friend of mine,” Zachariah said, “or yours. I wish you well.”
“I’m going with you,” she said.
“Your father would never allow it. Talk to him. Work through whatever needs to be said between the two of you.”
An unnatural fear filled her. One she’d never felt before. “Why did you sell me out?”
“The truth is never a bad thing, is it, Mr. Sagan?”
“I guess you’ll find out.”
———
ZACHARIAH LEFT AND WALKED ACROSS THE CHECKERBOARD tiles to where Brian Jamison waited. Casually, he slipped the paper Sagan had given him into his trouser pocket. He stopped a few feet away.
“Get what you wanted?” Jamison asked.
“That’s between me and your boss.”
“So you’re just going to walk right out of here? Let them go? Let me have them?”
He turned back toward where Alle and Tom Sagan stood.
“Not exactly.”
———
TOM WATCHED THE SCENE A HUNDRED FEET AWAY, THEN ASKED Alle, “Is what he said true?”
She did not answer him, but he saw uncertainty and fear in her face, both of which caused him alarm.
“That man there,” she said. “His name is Brian Jamison and he did take me prisoner yesterday. What Zachariah said about him could be true.”
The man started their way as Simon left the church.
Thank goodness he was ready.
“Let’s go.”
“Where?”
“Out of here.”
He led her across the transept to the iron gate with the attendant. No more tickets for the catacombs were being checked. Inna had arranged for him to have a private tour after the underground area closed for the day. He’d talked with the attendant earlier and she was expecting him, waving them both through. A quick glance back and he saw the man called Brian heading straight for the entrance. Tom stepped to where the tile floor stopped and the stone risers started their decent. He passed through the gate, then grabbed the iron bars and slammed them shut, the lock clicking into place. When he’d arrived a couple of hours ago he’d noticed that the doorway would take a key to reopen. The surprised attendant surely held that key, but the minute or two that would buy them would be critical to their escape.
He’d thought Simon would be his enemy.
Now there was a new threat.
“Follow me,” he told Alle.
And they raced down the stairs into the crypt.
———
ZACHARIAH HESITATED AT THE MAIN DOORS AND WATCHED AS Alle and her father entered the catacombs. Sagan had apparently closed the iron gate, which stopped Jamison’s advance, the cathedral attendant now trying to reopen the lock. He’d wondered what Rowe would do next. Apparently he still wanted Alle Becket—and now her father. He’d compromised Alle because he wanted her to go with her father. That way Rócha could deal with them both. Of course, he assumed they would leave through the main doors.
But that was not the case.
And what Sagan had said to him about the truth.
“I guess you’ll find out.”
Something was wrong.
He stepped outside and immediately spotted Rócha. He gestured and his man trotted over and said, “I saw Jamison go in.”
“They are all headed down into the catacombs.”
He wondered if this might be an opportunity.
“Come.”
And he and Rócha reentered the church.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
TOM HUSTLED DOWN THE STAIRS WITH ALLE CLOSE BEHIND.
They found the bottom.
Before them stretched a maze of passageways, all hewn from bedrock centuries ago. Now it was an elaborate, Baroque necropolis where bishops and provosts lay buried. He’d studied the cathedral guidebook while waiting and had learned the layout, knowing where he had to go. When he’d met with Inna, one favor had been to get him inside the cathedral unnoticed.
The other had been to get him out.
“That way,” he pointed.
———
ZACHARIAH HALTED HIS AND RÓCHA’S ADVANCE AND THEY sought cover behind one of the pillars. Brian Jamison hurried the attendant, who was still trying to reopen the gate. The commotion had drawn some attention from visitors, but not much. He’d toured the catacombs before. Lots of tombs, crypts, and bones. But he wondered. Was there another way out?
The older woman fumbled with her keys and finally inserted the right one into the lock.
Jamison disappeared, descending stairs.
He and Rócha rushed forward just as the woman was beginning to relock the gate. He was careful to keep his face angled away from her.
“Entschuldigen sie bitte,” he said as they slipped past.
The older woman opened her mouth to speak, but Rócha slammed the gate shut behind them.
———
ALLE WAS CONFUSED AND SHAKEN. SHE’D HAD NO CHOICE BUT to go with her father. Zachariah had sold her out. He seemed irritated. But how could she blame him? She’d accused him of trying to kill her. Had he in fact saved her? And was it Brian, not Zachariah, lying to her?
She had no idea.
She knew about the catacombs, though. A series of vaulted subterranean rooms. Lots of clergy were buried here, along with the bodies, hearts, and viscera of the Hapsburgs who, for centuries, ruled much of Europe. There were also the bones of over 11,000 people moved from the cemeteries above after an outbreak of plague in the mid-18th century. Their remains lay in massive piles, the display a bit macabre for her tastes. She recalled from her tour that the subterranean rooms flowed one into the other, each lit from the amber glow of incandescent fixtures. Her father seemed to know exactly where he was going, bypassing the main visitor areas that lay straight from the stairs, leading them left toward the bone rooms. Along the way they passed several notable tomb monuments with elaborate copper coffins.
She stopped. “Where are we going?”
He turned. “Out of here.”
“How do you know there’s a way out?”
She caught the irritation on his face.
“Contrary to what you may think, I’m not stupid. I thought ahead.”
“Why are you doing this?”
“Maybe because I got to watch while my daughter was groped by
two men, tied to a bed. You think that might motivate someone? Now I’m told the whole thing was an act. Was it, Alle?”
She hadn’t seen anger from her father in a long while and its presence unnerved her. But lying seemed useless. “He was right. It was an act.”
He stepped closer to her. “And you have the nerve to judge me.”
She knew what he meant. All those times she’d told him what a lousy husband and father he’d been, calling him a liar, a fraud, culminating at her mother’s funeral when she demanded he leave.
