As Lochum blabbered on about how not finding James was somehow her fault, Rebecca stared at the bone. Under the light of her laptop screen, she could barely make out the writing.
Pest. Not Buda, but Pest.
"We excavated in the area of the Christian churches and crypts."
"Obviously not deep enough," Lochum said with disdain.
Rebecca smiled. For all his brilliance, he could be so very blinded by his own press. "We've never looked under the Jewish sector."
"Why would we, when-" Lochum abruptly stopped mid-sentence, then laughed. "My dear, there is a reason I need you. Pest! Of course. No one has searched in that half of the city. All eyes have been set on the east."
No matter the length of time that had passed or whatever maturity she had gained, it still felt pretty damn good to have impressed Lochum. But there was someone else she wanted to share the discovery with. "We've got to tell Brandt."
"Shh!" he said as he pulled her back down to the seat. "Listen to you! Running to your knight in shining armor."
Bristling, Rebecca shot back, "Adoration has nothing to do with it." Okay, maybe it did a little, but the man who thought he knew her soul inside and out didn't need to find that out. "We've been attacked, twice. We need his protection."
The professor's voice dropped low and threatening. "So far he has only boded doom." He overrode her retort. "Hear me out, 'Becca. Give me sixty seconds to convince you. After that, you may make up your mind."
To enforce his point, he released her wrist and sat quietly. Damn it. When he was in full asshole mode, Rebecca could fight against him, but this newfound sincerity was nearly impossible to resist. "Sixty seconds. Not a single one more."
He nodded, but given the time constraint, his words came out far more measured than usual. "Only you and I know this information. No one else. This may be our only opportunity to explore this unblemished lead. Think of it, 'Becca. We can blend in. We know their culture far better than these..." A hard look from her stopped Lochum's tirade against the soldiers. The professor took a breath before finishing. "Think of it. Exploring pristine sites unhindered by friend or foe."
Rebecca's chuckle obviously surprised him. He had just wasted forty-five seconds of his minute. "That's you, Lochum. You who wants the glory of the find."
"Glory has nothing to do with it," he said with a tinge of sadness. "Look at what our adversaries have done to bury the truth. They destroyed the Damascus Papyrus. They tried to kill me. They blew up the Eiffel ossuary, then tried to kill you. If they find Christ's tomb first, there will be nothing left but dust and ash." He lowered his tone as he leaned over"
"I'm not trying to collect silver pieces for my ego, 'Becca. I'm trying to uncover the greatest truth man has ever sought. It is at our fingertips. We must extend our reach. Now."
She liked it better when he was obscenely arrogant. This reasonable explanation was hard to counter. Luckily, a shout saved her. "Monroe!"
Before sliding from her side, Lochum pressed on. "But we must find a way to extract ourselves from our woefully misguided escort. No matter their intent, they will only lead the enemy to our gates."
Bunny's sticky blood underscored his point. Two ambushes out of two destinations. Would a third be any different? And no matter how much she dogged Lochum about his professional obsession, Rebecca had to admit that she too felt a tug toward Budapest. She could imagine drilling a tiny core out from James' bone, then testing his DNA for the "smart gene." Rebecca could even picture what the computer screen would look like when her life's work was validated. Those journal editors could kiss her ass.
Forget the professor and his ambitions. Could she give up this chance?
Brandt stepped in front of her. "Looks like the cat gave Lochum back his tongue."
"He's just worried about Bunny."
Rebecca felt her back stiffen. She had just lied. Why had she just lied to a man who had shown nothing but her best interests at heart?
Brandt's eyes narrowed as if he were wondering the same thing. "If you don't want to share, just say so."
She knew she should tell the sergeant everything that had transpired between herself and Lochum, but for some reason the truth just wouldn't come. Instead Rebecca lied again, only this time she actually put the energy into making it sound believable.
"Sorry, I was just trying to make him seem a little more human. Old habits and all." She shrugged. "He's back onto the bones again."
Brandt nodded, but he didn't look truly convinced. If she told the truth, any hope of testing the brother of Christ for her gene would evaporate.
For all her resistance against Lochum's manipulation, Rebecca had to concede that the professor was a master strategist. He thought like Caesar or Alexander. Somehow, the professor could gaze through the expanse of time and retrace those great men's steps.
Logic could only conclude then that if they had, in actuality, caught scent of Christ's path, Lochum was absolutely correct that they could not risk anyone following them.
Rebecca tried to convince herself that her lies to the soldier weren't her fault. That she had just fallen prey to the professor's manipulations again as she had a decade ago, but she knew better. Her own ambition to prove that science ruled man's fate rather than God is what drove Rebecca to deflect Brandt's suspicion. "So what's this grand scheme of yours that's going to get us past security and into the airport?"
Doubt seemed to melt from the sergeant's face as he pulled a red cooler out from a storage bin. Her eyes dilated as she read the label.
Avertissement! Organe de transplant humain.
The translation came out in a single, disbelieving breath. "Warning. Human Transplant Organ." She turned to Brandt, aghast. "We're going to pretend to deliver a nonexistent liver?"
"If it gets us inside the terminal in record time, sure."
"So we're going to London?"
Brandt grabbed some clothes from the bin. "Yeah. Here, put these on." He handed her a set of scrubs and a white lab coat. "Lochum have a problem with England?"
How expertly the sergeant had moved the conversation back to these uncomfortable waters. Rebecca turned away as she changed clothes. Not so much out of modesty, but she didn't want Brandt to see her face as she weaved between truth and lie again.
"But weren't those the plans before the ambush?" she asked, hoping she sounded nervous but not nervous enough to be caught in a lie.
"We have a narrow window to escape this continent. The more time we delay, the more likely they'll pick up our trail again."
His words were so sincere that Rebecca believed his intent wholeheartedly. As she turned back to Brandt, she realized that Lochum's petty attempt to seed doubt had failed miserably. Looking into the sergeant's smoky gray eyes, she knew he would never betray her. She knew that she could tell him everything about Pest and James, and never worry that he would betray her.
If anything, Rebecca realized she had the opposite problem. Brandt was too reliable. The sergeant would never allow her to be endangered. He would never allow them to travel to Hungary. Every line on his face was creased with concern for her welfare. He would never let her stay on the continent.
Brandt handed her a set of IDs. "Here are your and Lochum's cover documents."
As the passports were laid into her palm, Rebecca knew exactly what she had to do.
CHAPTER 10.
Charles de Gaulle Airport, Paris Brandt's fake organ donor scam worked even better than he had hoped. In no small part, it was due to Lochum's presence. The older man's haughty, impatient air did the trick. They were greeted by the airport personnel as celebrities, whisked past security, and deposited at terminal one in record time.
They were actually a little early for their flight. Early enough to snag seats that looked out over the runway. He glanced at Monroe, but she was in a quick conversation with Lochum. The two had become quite chummy. It was obvious that the professor was no fan of their exit strategy, but Brandt had thought the doctor would be more realistic.
Not that Rebecca's words hadn't echoed his own concerns. He was untrusting of the secrecy of their plans, but so far their enemy had not attacked openly in public. Brandt had dealt with these shadowy organizations before. They worked best in isolated hangars or deserted laboratories. To attack at the De Gaulle Airport? He didn't think they had the balls.
Once they were in England, they would not be meeting the official liaison. Instead, they'd be met by his own personal MI6 contact. From there they would vanish into the hubbub of early-morning London. Brandt believed in this plan with all his heart, yet he still found himself glancing around at the passing travelers, assessing each and every one as a potential threat.
A boarding call squawked overhead. To Hungary or someplace. Across the circular terminal, people started boarding the outgoing flight. He glanced at his watch. They should start their own loading soon.
Rising, Brandt glanced over to the doctor. Monroe should have been right there. Spinning on his heel, Brandt searched for her. Rebecca wasn't far, but she was walking across the terminal toward the departing flight.
"Monroe!"
In three short steps he caught up with her. "That's not our flight."
The doctor gave him a sad smile as her laptop's printer spit out two new boarding passes. This was no misunderstanding.
"Good-bye, Brandt."
He didn't bother to hide the anger in his voice. "What in the hell do you think you're doing?"
The professor tried to intervene. "There are more things in heaven and on earth than your-"
Brandt jerked his head in Lochum's direction. "Don't. Just don't."
The older man mumbled something, then moved toward the gate, leaving Rebecca and Brandt to stand amongst a sea of travelers.
He expected this type of crap from Lochum, but the doctor seemed more levelheaded, rational. Then again, the first time Brandt had seen Rebecca, she was tied to a stake with a twelve-foot-long anaconda squeezing the life out of her just so she could get some blood samples. On second thought, maybe he should have expected this crap.
He tried to rein in his anger. "Monroe, if this is about London..."
"Only in part." She suddenly seemed tired. Like the last twenty-four hours had just caught up with her in a single swift moment.
"Damn it, I don't even trust my superiors with our safety, but I would think you would trust me."
That sad smile again. "My trust is unshaken, Brandt." She paused as though weighing how much to tell him.
"Is this about your conspiring on the chopper?" the sergeant asked.
Monroe was a lot of things, but a good liar wasn't one of them. Back on the helicopter, Brandt had let her false words go, assuming the professor and she were hashing out something personal. Had he known they were plotting to ditch him, Brandt would have pressed her until he had the truth.
The doctor sighed, not bothering to defend her earlier lies. "Lochum has found a lead. A real lead. A time-sensitive lead in Budapest."
Brandt's eyes darted to the older man. Svengurd and Lopez had moved to flanking positions. Even though he couldn't see Davidson, the private had retreated to the entrance to the terminal-the optimal location to survey all of them. Perfect military precision, only there were no military options this time. They couldn't tackle the professor, nor drag Monroe onto the London plane.
Even though he should have still been pissed that she had put him in this untenable position, Brandt worried more if she went off alone.
"Look, if you're concerned about our travel arrangement, we'll walk out of here and find another way across the Channel."
Monroe shook her head. "Did you even hear me? We think James, Jesus' brother, is buried under Budapest."
"I heard you, but what are you two going to do about it?" Based on the frustration in her face, Brandt changed tactics. "Once we get to safety, we can send a team in to-"
Rebecca put a hand on his arm. "Lochum, for all his arrogant self-posturing, is right. This is more important than either of our lives. This is the stuff history is made of. We have to at least try."
Shit. She meant it. This was no stunt, no childish impulse.
Brandt seldom bent to another's will, but what choice did he have? "Fine. We'll all go to Budapest, then."
The doctor turned away from him. "We took the last two seats."
"Rebecca," Brandt pleaded, but the woman didn't turn back as she boarded the plane.
Svengurd raised an eyebrow. Should he intercede? But causing a scene would help no one. The slightest inclination of his head brought the men back to him as their flight to London sounded overhead.
Davidson spoke the question on everyone's lips. "What're we gonna do?"
Tok sat motionless on the stairwell's step as the medic dug the bullet from his arm. He had refused to allow them to take him to a hospital. It was but a flesh wound-a simple reminder to stay vigilant. His passion for the bones had weakened his caution. The shoulder's ache would remind him always of his lapse.
Even though sirens sounded in the distance, they remained until the rest of his men carefully gathered the bones from the stairwell, each shard a miracle unto itself. They could leave no remains behind. Not if they wished their secret to stay secret for much longer.
As the medic finished bandaging the wound, Tok noticed a small scuffed object in the corner. Leaning over, he found a small bone that must have skidded all the way across the landing. A phalanx, he thought. The tip of the man's finger. He should have handed the item over for immediate packing, but how could he resist keeping it to himself for just a moment?
Skimming the ancient Greek, Tok realized whom he held.
John the Baptist? He almost dropped the bone, but forced himself to keep a tight hold. He could not allow this artifact to fall from his grip.
To think this very finger had at one time touched the head of Christ. And now he was touching it. The all-consuming light within his chest burned with new fuel. John the Baptist. The prophet who spurred Jesus into his ministry. All that came after was begun by John. It was he who had opened Jesus' eyes to his true destiny.
Tok remembered his own enlightening. He had been running scared through Cairo's marketplace when he snagged a man's satchel. It had held only papers, no money or food, but it smelled of fine leather and good use, so Tok had buried himself under a tumble of fabric bolts to sort through the documents and pretend he could read them.
Little did he know that he had stolen Petir's dispatches. How the older man had found him amongst the turmoil of the street fair, Tok did not know, but once found, the older man had not been tempted out with coin or sweets. Instead, Petir proffered his Bible. Tok could remember the texture of the grainy leather, worn smooth along the edges. The gold lettering embossed on the red cover. It should have been just a book, yet another he could not read, but to Tok it was like all the birthday presents he had never received.
That Bible had been the spark, and over the years the flame had grown steadily under Petir's watchful tutelage. But it did not burn brightly until he was old enough to be shown their sect's greatest gift.
Their founder's skeleton.
Encased in glass, hidden deep within a cavern beneath their facility, the remains were sacred. The air in the chamber was cool but dry. At night only a sliver of moonlight would light up the silver coin as if it glowed of its own power. There Tok sought solace.
Those assembled bones were engraved as this tiny bone was, but they had raised more questions than they had answered. For millennia, since the crucifixion, they had been entrusted with their secret, but not with the whole truth. Their founder had felt if any one person knew the entirety it would doom them all. So the Knot held the most essential piece of the intricate puzzle, but was innocent of the whereabouts of the other remains.
So for centuries his sect had stayed well hidden, out of the harsh light of society. They had the skeleton and the secret. It was enough. Only idle speculation promoted the search for other remains. Until Lochum.
The professor had an uncanny insight into the past. His work on ancient ruins had revolutionized archaeology. With this renewed interest in the dusty science and the burgeoning of technologies, such as ground penetrating radar, his sect had decided to enter the shadows of civilization.
Some had thought to harness the professor's expertise, but others felt him the greatest threat since Herod. His discovery of the Damascus Papyrus had given validation to those who believed Lochum a tool. Flavian's document now lay next to the holy remains. In a single swoop they had clipped Lochum's wings, while gaining an irreplaceable piece of the Knot's history.
Their founder's concern over corruption was outweighed by the real possibility that someone very, very soon might stumble upon the truth.
To correct this danger, Petir had been sent to Egypt with the task of finding another young believer to be trained as the seeker of bones. It was there that Petir had stumbled upon an orphaned freak. Since then, Tok had been raised for a single purpose-to collect the other remains so they might be safely held in the Knot's possession.
So each night, Tok snuck into the crypt and read his Bible. When his eyes grew tired, he would whisper without words the troubles that weighed heavily on his heart. After a time, he would swear the sacred bones whispered back.