“Tell me where the treasure is located,” Lyon said.
When Ashby had left Caroline earlier she was still developing the particulars, though she’d at least determined an initial starting point. He hoped, for both their sakes, she knew a lot more now.
“It’s in the cathedral, at Saint-Denis,” Caroline quickly said.
“You know where?” Lyon asked, his eyes locked on Ashby, the gun inside the car, still aimed.
“I believe so. But I need to go there to be sure. I have to see. I just figured all this out—”
Lyon withdrew his arm and lowered the weapon. “I hope, for your sake, you can determine the location.”
Ashby stood still.
Lyon aimed the gun his way. “Your turn. Two questions, and I want simple answers. Do you have a direct line of communication to the Americans?”
That was easy. He nodded.
“Do you have a phone with you?”
He nodded again.
“Give me the phone and the number.”
MALONE STOOD WITH SAM, TRYING TO DECIDE ON THE NEXT course of action, when Stephanie’s cell phone sprang to life. She checked the display and said, “Ashby.”
He knew better. “Apparently Lyon wants to talk to you.”
She hit SPEAKER.
“I understand that you are the person in charge,” a male voice said.
“The last time I looked,” Stephanie said.
“You were in London last night?”
“That was me.”
“Did you enjoy the show today?”
“We’ve had great fun chasing after you.”
Lyon chuckled. “It kept you sufficiently occupied so I could deal with Lord Ashby. He is untrustworthy, as I’m sure you’ve discovered.”
“He’s probably thinking the same thing about you at the moment.”
“You should be grateful. I did you a favor. I allowed you to monitor my conversation with Ashby at Westminster. I appeared at the Ripper tour so you could follow. I left the little towers for you to find. I even attacked your agent. What else did you need? But for me, you would have never known that the tower was Ashby’s true target. I assumed you’d find a way to stop it.”
“And if we hadn’t, what would it have mattered? You’d still have your money, off to the next job.”
“I had faith in you.”
“I hope you don’t expect anything for it.”
“Heavens, no. I just didn’t want to see that fool Ashby succeed.”
Malone realized they were witnessing Peter Lyon’s infamous arrogance. It wasn’t enough that he was two steps ahead of his pursuers, he needed to rub that fact in their faces.
“I have another piece of information for you,” Lyon said. “And this one is quite real. No distraction. You see, the French fanatics whom this entire endeavor was to be blamed on had a condition to their involvement. One I never mentioned to Lord Ashby. They are separatists, upset over the unfair treatment they have received at the hands of the French government. They loathe the many oppressive regulations, which they regard as racist. They’re also tired of protesting. Seems it accomplishes little, and several of their mosques have been closed in Paris over the past few years as punishment for their activism. In return for assisting me at the Invalides, they want to make a more poignant statement.”
Malone did not like what he was hearing.
“A suicide bombing is about to occur,” Lyon said.
Chilly fingers caressed Malone’s spine.
“During Christmas services in a Paris church. They thought this fitting, since their houses of worship are being closed every day.”
There were literally hundreds of churches in Paris.
After three duds, it’s hard to take you seriously,” she made clear.
“I see your point, but this one is real. And you can’t rush there with police. The attack would occur before anyone could stop it. In fact, it’s nearly imminent. Only you can prevent it.”
“Bullshit,” Stephanie said. “You’re just buying more time for yourself.”
“Of course I am. But can you afford to gamble that what I’m saying is a lie?”
Malone saw in Stephanie’s eyes what he was thinking, too.
We have no choice.
“Where?” she asked.
Lyon laughed. “Not that easy. It’s going to be a bit of a hunt. Of course, a churchful of people are counting on you making it there in time. Do you have ground transportation?”
“We do.”
“I’ll be in touch shortly.”
She clicked the phone off.
Exasperation swept across her face, then vanished into the confidence that twenty-five years in the intelligence business had bestowed.
She faced Sam. “Go after Henrik.”
Professor Murad had already told them that the Cathédrale de Saint-Denis was Thorvaldsen’s destination.
“Try to keep him under control until we can get there.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. Figure it out.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Malone smiled at his sarcasm. “That’s how I used to say it, too, when she’d cut my tail. You can handle him. Just hold the line, keep things under control.”
“That’s easier said than done with Henrik.”
He laid a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “He likes you. He’s in trouble. Help him.”
Malone 5 - The Paris Vendetta
SIXTY-SEVEN
ELIZA LAROCQUE WANDERED AROUND HER PARIS APARTMENT and tried to restore order to her chaotic thoughts. She’d already consulted the oracle, asking the specific question, Will my enemies succeed? The answer that her slashes had produced seemed baffling. The prisoner will soon be welcomed home, although he now smarts under the power of his enemies.
What in the world?