Caldwell nodded and stood up to leave, slipping the box inside his jacket. At the door he turned. “Just one more thing.”
Baylor looked up from the cigar he was lighting. “What?”
“The guy that you saw at the auction—the one you called the Templar—he was there too.”
Baylor forced his hand to keep hold of the cigar. “He was with her?”
Caldwell shook his head. “Nah. He came later, while I was talking to the neighbor. Just thought you might want to know.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Baylor listened to the door click shut and then blew a smoke ring. He had thought the Immortal was only at the auction to get de Molay’s Shield—Ramsey had a sentimental streak which was something Baylor couldn’t understand in a man. But now…if the Templar had followed the bitch to Dallas, then he must know about the Hallows too. And if he got to them first, he’d put them to use for some altruistic good for the universe. The power of the Hallows was neutral—the one who owned them directed that power.
Baylor thought of all the years he had spent carefully cultivating the seeds of hate in the Middle East: Jordan, Syria, the Gaza strip, Iraq—damn the Americans for meddling there. Baghdad was to have been his base of power—but other areas were coming along nicely, and he was working on Nigeria. But with the Hallows, he could destroy the earth and return to the Isle for the final battle…
Time was suddenly of the essence. Baylor reached for the telephone. He was going to Dallas.
****
Lucas paced the hotel room he’d rented. The beast wanted out. Reading just that first page had sent his blood roiling, stirring the muddy sentiment from six hundred years ago. And the wolf still wanted revenge for the Scottish Inquisition.
Steady. Stay in control. Smith will call.He’d taken a gamble, handing back that first page without reading the rest. But he needed to establish trust if he was going to succeed. And, as much as he tried to ignore the fact, he wanted that dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty to trust him. He had felt her aura brush his and the actual physical contact of taking her hand had sent heat to his groin, but there was something else too. Something he couldn’t quite define.
“Please put this in your strongest safe,” he’d said when he handed the parchment back to Smith. “I can interpret this for you, but you might not believe what I tell you.”
“Is it about the Holy Grail?” Smith asked hesitantly.
“In part.”
“Are you deliberately trying to be mysterious?” Sara asked, “or just trying to scare us into thinking that paper spells Armageddon?”
“There could be some truth to that,” he answered and Sara stared at him, her mouth slightly open in surprise. He tried not think of how soft those parted pink lips were or how much he wanted to slide his tongue between them and taste her.Not now.
He had stood with reluctance and nodded toward Smith. “When I finish reading that—if you’ll allow it—I want you to know that I’m telling you the truth. I want you to call those references I gave you and check me out. You need to know I am who I say I am. If the rest of that document says what I think itdoes, we are going to be in this search together. And for what will come, there must be trust.”
There had been a moment when Smith had narrowed his eyes and looked thoughtful. Then he had nodded.
“How can I be in touch?”
And Lucas had given him the number for the hotel, along with his cell. That had been almost forty-eight hours ago.Patience.References take time.
One of the things Lucas had learned to do when he re-invented himself every sixty or seventy years, was to form a complete identity. In the Dark Ages, no one had really asked. There were so few literate souls. During Arthur’s time, it had been easy to don armor and fight beside the Briton king. His respect for Arthur ran deep. That was a man who understood the power of the hallowed Sword. He slept in Avalon. Perhaps Brighid would send him back to the world one day.
The original nine Templars had accepted Lucas into the Brotherhood without many questions either. But then, he had pretty much appeared out of nowhere to stand on the Temple steps, his unusually light hair a target for the Saracens. When he had suggested a place for Godfrey to begin digging and they unearthed the first treasure, they had sensed he was different, perhaps not truly of this world. But they had embraced him and made him the tenth Templar. The secret one. And the secret of his immortality was still protected by the inner circle today.
Technology was a fantastic thing. Gavin had managed to create birth certificates, passports and other legal documents as needed. However, the letters of reference were genuine, for Lucas had carefully cultivated relationships with trustworthy men in established businesses in England and Scotland and France.
His cover was good. All he could do was wait. And try not to think about Sara.
****
“Sara, lovely child. Please come in and sit down and keep an old man like me some company.”
Sara closed the door to Professor MacDonald’s office. He sat in a wheelchair behind a magnificent cherrywood desk cluttered with a dozen books and papers strewn everywhere. More books sat in stacks beside him. The professor’s cardigan was mis-buttoned and tufts of white hair stuck out from his head, an indication that he’d been running his fingers through it. Ink stained those frail fingers now as he put down the pen he’d been holding.
“Your housekeeper let me in,” Sara said as she walked around the desk and hugged the old man. “She was just leaving for the day. Where’s Robert?” She hadn’t seen the manservant when she’d come in.
“Oh, he’ll be along,” the professor said with a smile. “You worry too much about me. Now sit and tell me why you’ve come.”
Sara pulled her chair closer and sat down with a mischievous smile. “I have something I think will make your day.”
