The Last Templar Read online

  “Fell from the roof. Fell, jumped, got pushed—take your pick.”

  Reilly leaned back, rubbing his eyes wearily. “Three out of four. One to go. Question is, will he pop up with a needle mark in his neck…or is he already halfway to Europe?”

  Glancing around the room, he noticed the monsignor emerging from the double doors that led to the elevator foyer. The fact that he was here in person could only mean that he didn’t have any breaks to report.

  The somber look on his face as he sat with Reilly only confirmed it.

  “I’m afraid my colleagues in Rome haven’t been successful yet. They’re still searching, but…” He didn’t seem optimistic. “I take it…?” He didn’t need to continue.

  “Yeah, we’re still drawing blanks here too, Father.”

  “Oh, well.” Then he managed a hopeful smile. “If neither our scholars nor your experts have been able to find it so far…perhaps he’s also having a hard time figuring it out.”

  Deep down, Reilly knew this was only wishful thinking. Pictures of Vance had been circulated to all the major libraries from D.C. to Boston, and so far none of them had reported any sightings. Vance either already knew where he was headed, or he had his own resources, which the FBI wouldn’t have access to. Either way, it didn’t augur well.

  The monsignor was silent for a moment, then said, “Miss Chaykin. She seems to be very…resourceful.”

  Reilly couldn’t suppress a tired grin. “Oh, I’m sure she’s racking her brains looking for it as we speak.”

  This seemed to confirm De Angelis’s guess. “Have you heard from her?”

  “Not yet.”

  De Angelis nodded quietly. Reilly could tell something was troubling the man, that he was holding something back.

  “What is it, Father?”

  The monsignor looked slightly embarrassed. “I’m not sure. I’m just a little concerned, that’s all.”

  “What about?”

  The priest pursed his lips. “Are you sure she would call? If she found out?”

  Coming from De Angelis, this surprised Reilly. He doesn’t trust her? He leaned forward. “What makes you say that?”

  “Well, she seems to be rather driven, it’s her field after all. And a discovery like this…careers have been made from far less. If I were to put myself in her shoes for a moment, I wonder what my priorities would be. Catching this Vance…or discovering something any archaeologist would give his right arm for. Would I inform the authorities and risk losing the credit and the glory…or would I go after it myself?” His tone was soft-spoken but irresistibly confident. “She comes across as a very ambitious lady, and ambition…it can often lead one to choose the less, shall we say, magnanimous path.”

  DE ANGELIS’S WORDS STAYED with Reilly long after the priest had left.

  Would she call? It hadn’t even crossed his mind that she wouldn’t. But then, what if the Vatican envoy was right? What incentive did she have to call? If she did figure it out and gave the FBI its location, agents would be flown out to try and intercept Vance, local law enforcement agencies would be drafted in, and the situation would quickly get out of hand; there would be little room, or consideration, for her quest. The priority, as far as the authorities were concerned, was to apprehend a fugitive. The archaeological discovery was of little consequence.

  Still, she wouldn’t be so reckless…or would she? What’s she going to do, fly out there by herself?

  A surge of trepidation rushed over him. No, that’s insane.

  He reached for the phone and dialed her home number. There was no answer. He let it ring until her answering machine picked up, then hung up without leaving a message. He quickly tried her cell phone. It rang five times before diverting to her messaging service.

  With rapidly swelling unease, Reilly hung up and called up the internal operator. Within seconds, he was patched through to the officer parked outside Tess’s house. “Have you seen her today?”

  The officer’s reply was stolidly assured. “No, not since she got home late last night.”

  His internal alarms were blaring. Something felt very, very wrong. “I need you to go up to her front door and make sure she’s okay. I’ll hang on.”

  The officer sounded like he was already getting out of his car. “You got it.”

  Reilly waited anxiously as the seconds ticked by. He visualized the officer crossing the road, walking up the path across her front yard, climbing up the three stone steps, and ringing the bell. It would take her a few more seconds to come down if she were upstairs. Right about now, she’d be opening the front door.

  Nothing.

  His discomfort grew alarmingly as the seconds dragged on. Then the officer’s voice crackled back through his handset. “She’s not answering the door. I had a look out back and nothing’s been disturbed, there’s no sign of forced entry, but it doesn’t look like she’s around.”

  Reilly was already scrambling into action. “Okay, listen to me,” he fired back as he gestured urgently to Aparo, “I need you to just get in there right now and confirm to me that the house is empty. Break in if you have to.”

  Aparo was rising out of his seat. “What’s going on?”

  Reilly was already reaching for another phone. “Get onto Customs and Borders.” Cupping the phone with his hand, he looked at his partner, frustration and anger in his eyes. “I think Tess might be doing a runner.”

  Chapter 51

  Standing in line at the Turkish Airlines check-in desk at JFK, Tess stared at the display on her cell phone. The screen didn’t show who the caller was, and she decided not to answer it. She knew the call was probably originating from some routing switchboard, and none of the likely callers were particularly welcome right now. Not Leo from the Institute; Lizzie would have relayed the cryptic, confused explanation for her absence by now. Not Doug, calling from L.A.—no qualms there. But Reilly…that was the one that stuck in her throat. She hated doing this to him. It was one of the toughest decisions she’d ever had to make; but, now that she was going through with it, she couldn’t afford to talk to him. Not yet.

  Not while she was still in the country.

  Stuffing the phone back into her jacket pocket, she finally reached the desk and embarked on the arduous check-in procedure. Once she was done there, she trailed the signs to the departure lounge and a much needed coffee, going by way of the newsstand where she picked up a couple of paperbacks she’d been aiming to read when she had the time; whether she could rein in her galloping imagination enough to concentrate on even lightweight fiction, given everything that was going on, was another matter.

  She went through the passenger checks and reached the departure lounge, where she sank into a chair.

  She couldn’t believe she was actually doing it. Sitting there with nothing more to do than wait for the flight to be called, her mind finally had a chance to wind down, take a step back, and consider the recent events more carefully, which wasn’t necessarily a good thing. The last twenty-four hours, from the time she knew she was onto something to the actual moment she made the discovery, had been an adrenaline-induced haze. Now, alone and waiting to fly off into the night, she fell prey to a litany of fears and misgivings that came crawling out from deep within.

  What are you thinking? Going out there, up into the Turkish backcountry—alone? What if you bump into Vance out there? What about all the other creeps you could run into? It’s not exactly the safest country in the world. An American woman, alone in the Turkish outback. Are you nuts?

  The panic attack about her physical well-being soon gave way to something that troubled her even more.

  Reilly.

  She’d lied to him. Again. A lie of omission, maybe, but a pretty serious one nevertheless. This was different from driving off with the manuscript and not alerting him about Vance waiting for her at home. She knew something was going on between them, something she liked and wanted to nurture, even though she sensed there was something holding him back that she couldn
’t quite put her finger on. She’d wondered if she had ruined any chance they had of getting together. She thought she’d gotten away with it at the time; there were extenuating circumstances and he was very understanding—in fact, he’d behaved wonderfully. And now, here she was, screwing up again.

  How much does this mean to you, Tess?

  She snapped out of her unsettled reverie when she sensed the harsh glow of the fluorescent lighting interrupted and felt the presence of someone standing there, blocking it. She opened her eyes.

  It was Reilly. He was standing there, looming over her, and he didn’t look thrilled.

  Hugely pissed off was probably closer to the mark.

  Reilly broke the pregnant silence. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  She wasn’t sure about how to answer that. Just then, a nasal voice echoed down from the overhead PA system, announcing the opening of the gate for boarding. Passengers all around them rose from their seats and formed a couple of messy lines that converged on the gate’s counters, buying her a welcome respite.

  Reilly glanced at them and visibly mustered some self-control before plunking himself down beside her. “When were you planning on telling me?”

  She took a breath. “Once I got there,” she said sheepishly.

  “What, were you going to send me a postcard? Damn it, Tess. It’s like nothing I’ve said meant anything to you.”

  “Look, I’m—”

  He shook his head, raising both hands and cutting her off. “I know, you’re sorry, this is a big deal for you, a once-in-a-lifetime thing, a career-defining moment…We’ve been through this before, Tess. You just seem hell-bent on getting yourself killed.”

  She breathed out in frustration, mulling over his words. “I can’t just sit back and let it slip away. Besides, until this thing is sorted out, one way or another, I’m not going to feel safe, Kim’s not going to be safe…. He was in our house, Sean. I’m part of this, whether I like it or not.” She paused, almost afraid to ask. “You said there were things I didn’t know about? Other deaths?”

  Reilly nodded, then darted a discreet glance around before lowering his voice. “The other three horsemen from that night—they’re dead. And they didn’t exactly die in their sleep.”

  Tess edged forward. “You think Vance killed them?”

  “It was either him or someone involved with him. Either way, whoever’s doing it is still out there, and the killing part doesn’t seem to bother him at all.”

  Tess rubbed her eyes with fingers that, she noticed, were quivering. “What if he hasn’t figured it out yet? Fonsalis?”

  “I think you would gave gotten another visit if he hadn’t. My guess is, he knows.”

  She let out a deep breath. “So what do we do now?”

  Reilly studied her, clearly wondering the same thing. “You’re sure you’ve got it right?”

  She nodded. “Yes.”

  “But you’re not going to tell me where it is?”

  She shook her head. “I’d rather not. Although I’m pretty sure you can make me, right?” Overhead, the nasal voice made another announcement, inviting the last passengers to board the aircraft. Tess turned to Reilly. “That’s my flight.”

  He watched as the last passengers went through the gate. “You’re sure you still want to do this?”

  She gave him a nervous nod. “I’m sure.”

  “Let us handle it. You’ll get the full credit for any find, I’ll make sure of that. Just let us get him out of the way first.”

  She looked deep into his eyes. “It’s not just about the credit. It’s…it’s what I do. And it’s what I have to do.” She scoured his face for signs of empathy, for clues as to what he was thinking. “Besides, it might be out of your hands. International finds…it can get very territorial and very messy.” She managed a tentative grin. “So can I go now, or are you gonna arrest me or something?”

  His jaw tightened. “I’m thinking about it.” His face wasn’t giving away any hints that he could be joking. Far from it.

  “On what charge?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll find something. Maybe plant a couple of pouches of coke on you.” He faked patting down his pockets. “I know I have some on me somewhere.”

  Her face relaxed.

  His expression turned dead serious. “What can I say to make you change your mind?”

  She loved the way it felt to hear him ask her that. Maybe I haven’t completely screwed this up yet. She stood up. “I’ll be fine.” Not that she believed it.

  He got up and for a brief moment, they just stood there. She waited for him to say something else, but he didn’t. A small part of her was even hoping he would grab her and stop her from going. But he didn’t do that either. She glanced toward the gate then turned to face him again. “I’ll see you soon.”

  He didn’t answer.

  She walked off and reached the overly cheerful woman staffing the boarding pass scanner. Tess pulled out her passport and, as she handed it to her, she looked back at where she’d left Reilly. He was still standing there, watching her go. She managed a queasy half-smile before turning away and walking down the white-paneled finger.

  THE FOUR TURBOFAN ENGINES whined to life as the flight crew up and down the aisles made their final preparations for takeoff. Tess had been assigned a window seat for the ten-hour flight and was relieved to find an empty seat beside hers. As she watched the ground staff clear the last of the servicing gear from around the aircraft, Tess felt a strange mix of exhilaration and foreboding. She couldn’t help but be excited by the journey ahead, and yet Reilly’s news about the dead horsemen rattled her. She blocked the disturbing imagery her mind was conjuring up and tried to convince herself that as long as she took some basic precautions, she should be safe.

  She hoped.

  She was reaching for the in-flight magazine when she noticed some commotion coming from the front of the aircraft. Her whole body went rigid when she realized it was due to Reilly, who was making his way down the aisle to her.

  Damn it. He’s had a change of heart. He’s coming to take me off the plane.

  Staring at him with amazement, she felt a surge of anger. As he reached her row, she edged back against the window. “Don’t, okay? Don’t pull me off this plane. You’ve got no right. I’ll be fine—I mean, come on, you’ve got people there, right? They can keep an eye on me. I can do this.”

  His face was impassive. “I know.” He then eased his way into the seat next to hers.

  Tess stared at him, stunned. Her mouth was having trouble forming any coherent words.

  He matter-of-factly took the magazine from her hands as he buckled his belt. “So,” he said, “do they have any decent movies on?”

  Chapter 52

  The man seated six rows back from Tess was far from comfortable. He hated flying. It didn’t have anything to do with an irrational fear of it, nor was he in any way claustrophobic. He simply couldn’t stand being confined for hours in a tin can where he wasn’t allowed to smoke. Ten hours. And that wasn’t counting the time spent in the equally smoke-free terminal.

  Nicorette country.

  He’d been lucky. Tasked with keeping an eye on Tess, he’d had to make do with an uncomfortably remote viewing spot due to the police watch on her house. Had he been any closer, though, he would have probably missed her slipping away from the back of the house, across two neighboring houses’ backyards, then back to the street and the cab that was waiting for her only yards from where he’d been parked.

  He’d alerted De Angelis and tailed her to the airport. From his seat in the departure lounge, he’d been able to observe Tess and Reilly at ease without any risk of detection. Neither of them was aware of his existence. He had called De Angelis from his cell phone twice. The first time to let him know that Tess had been allowed to board the aircraft. The second shortly after, this time from his seat inside the plane, when he’d barely had time to inform the monsignor of Reilly’s appearance before his conversatio
n was cut short by an insistent flight attendant who made him shut off his cell phone.

  Leaning out to look up the aisle, he studied his two targets as he twirled a small disk no bigger than a quarter across his fingers. He’d noticed that Reilly hadn’t brought any hand luggage on board. It didn’t really matter. Tess had a carry-on bag stuffed into the overhead compartment, and she was his primary target. As he watched them, he knew he didn’t need to rush things. It was going to be a long flight, and most of the cabin, including his targets, would be asleep at some point. He’d have to be patient and wait for the right opportunity to plant his tracking device. At least, he mused, it would provide him with some distraction on this otherwise irksome journey.

  He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, frowning as the flight attendant passed him and proceeded down the aisle, checking to make sure the seat belts were all fastened. He hated the rigidity of the whole travail. He felt like he was back in sixth grade. Can’t smoke, can’t call. Can’t call them stewardesses. What’s next? Permission slips to use the john?

  He glared out the window and stuffed two more pieces of Nicorette into his mouth.

  DE ANGELIS WAS ARRIVING at Teterboro Airport in New Jersey when Plunkett called him. The small airport was a quieter and more efficient option for his hastily arranged trip; seven miles from Manhattan, it was a favored haven for celebrities, business executives, and their private jets.

  Sitting in the back of the Lincoln Town Car, the monsignor was almost unrecognizable. He had discarded his austere attire for the smart black Zegna suit he was more used to, and, although he always had some misgivings when he set aside his Roman collar, he had readily done so now, opting for a blue dress shirt instead. He had also done away with the dowdy, smeared glasses he had worn during his stay in Manhattan; in their place were his habitual, rimless pair. His tattered leather briefcase was gone, a slim aluminum one now sitting next to him as the dark limousine whisked him right up to the aircraft’s door.