Stephanie nodded. “The French police will escort them out of the tunnel and seal it off.”
He realized it was over. Finally. The past three weeks had been some of the most horrific of his life.
He needed a rest.
“I understand you have a new career,” he said to Sam.
The younger man nodded. “I’m now officially working for the Magellan Billet, as an agent. I hear I have you to thank for that.”
“You have yourself to thank. Henrik would be proud.”
“I hope so.” Sam motioned at the chests. “What is going to happen with all this treasure?”
“The French get it,” Stephanie said. “No way to know where it came from. Here it sits, in their soil, so it’s theirs. Besides, they say it’s compensation for all the property damage Cotton inflicted.”
Malone wasn’t really listening. Instead he kept his attention on the doorway. Eliza Larocque had sheathed her parting threat in a warm cloak of politeness—a calm declaration that if their paths ever crossed again, things would be different. But he’d been threatened before. Besides, Larocque was partly responsible both for Henrik’s death and for the guilt that he feared would forever swirl inside him. He owed her, and he always paid his debts.
“You okay about Lyon?” he asked Sam.
The younger man nodded. “I still see his head exploding, but I can live with it.”
“Don’t ever let it get easy. Killing is serious business, even if they deserve it.”
“You sound like somebody else I once knew.”
“He a smart fellow, too?”
“More so than I ever realized, until lately.”
“You were right, Sam,” he said. “The Paris Club. Those conspiracies. At least a few of them were real.”
“As I recall, you thought I was a nut.”
He chuckled. “Half the people I meet think I’m one, too.”
“Meagan Morrison made sure I knew she was right,” Stephanie said. “She’s a handful.”
“You going to see her again?” Malone asked Sam.
“Who says I’m interested?”
“I heard it in her voice when she left the message on my phone. She went back in there for you. And I saw how you looked at her after Henrik’s funeral. You’re interested.”
“I don’t know. I might. You have any advice on that one?”
He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Women are not my strong point.”
“You can say that again,” Stephanie added. “You throw ex-wives out of planes.”
He smiled.
“We need to go,” Stephanie said. “The French want control of this.”
They headed for the exit.
“Something’s been bothering me,” Malone said to Sam. “Stephanie told me that you were raised in New Zealand, but you don’t talk like a Kiwi. Why’s that?”
Sam smiled. “Long story.”
Exactly what he’d said yesterday when Sam had asked about the name Cotton. The same two words he’d told Henrik the several times when his friend had inquired, always promising to explain later.
But, sadly, there’d be no more laters.
He liked Sam Collins. He was a lot like himself fifteen years ago, just about the time when he’d started with the Magellan Billet. Now Sam was a full-fledged agent—about to face all of the incalculable risks associated with that dangerous job.
Any day could easily be his last.
“How about this,” Sam said. “I’ll tell you, if you tell me.”
“Deal.”
WRITER’S NOTE
This novel took me first to France, then to London. For several days Elizabeth and I roamed Paris, scouting every location that appears in the novel. I wasn’t particularly fond of being underground, and she disliked the height of the Eiffel Tower. Our various neuroses aside, we managed to discover all that we went there to find. As with those of my previous seven novels, this plot involved concocting, combining, correcting, and condensing a number of seemingly unrelated elements.
Now it’s time to draw the line between fact and fiction.
General Napoleon Bonaparte did indeed conquer Egypt in 1799, and ruled that land while he awaited the right moment to return to France and claim absolute power. He certainly saw the pyramids, but there is no evidence that he ever ventured inside. A story exists that he entered the Great Pyramid at Giza and emerged shaken, but no reputable historian has ever verified that account. The notion, though, seemed intriguing, so I couldn’t resist including my own version in the prologue. As to what happened inside with a mysterious seer (chapter 37), that was all my concoction. Napoleon’s savants, though, did exist, and together they unearthed an ancient civilization heretofore unknown, creating the science of Egyptology.
Corsica seems a fascinating place, though I wasn’t able to actually visit. Bastia (chapters 2 and 14) is described as correctly as photographs would allow. Cap Corse and its ancient watchtowers and convents are also faithfully rendered. Rommel’s gold is an actual treasure lost from World War II, with a Corsican connection, as described in chapter 6. The only addition I made was the fifth participant and clues left inside a 19th century book about Napoleon. The actual treasure remains, to this day, unfound.
The Moor’s Knot described in chapters 6, 12, and 39 is mine, though the coding technique came from The Chalice of Magdalene, by Graham Phillips, a book about the Holy Grail. I also was directed to Psalms, and the use of its many verses as clues (chapter 77) by that same book. The particular portions I chose are correctly quoted and proved uncanny in their applicability.
There is a Paris Club, as described in chapter 4. It is a well-intentioned organization, staffed by some of the world’s wealthiest countries, designed to help emerging nations restructure their debt. Eliza Larocque’s Paris Club bears no relation. Likewise, her club’s historical connection to Napoleon is purely fictitious.