A Pale Horse

by Wendy Alec

Tears streamed down Polly’s cheeks. She took the engagement ring off her finger, then held her fingers to her mouth, her voice barely a whisper.

  “Good-bye, my beautiful Alex.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Monastery of Archangels, Alexandria, Egypt

  Lawrence and Jason walked through the immaculate monastery kitchen gardens, followed by Liam Mercer, who walked behind them at a discreet distance.

  “I do wish you were here under pleasanter circumstances, Jason.”

  Jason sighed. “So do I, Lawrence, believe me.” He followed Lawrence down a winding stone corridor.

  Lawrence rubbed his hands together. “I wish you’d agreed to take my suite, dear boy. The guest quarters are Spartan, to say the least—not exactly what you’re used to.” He stopped outside a small cloister door. “You’ve been through quite the proverbial mill.”

  “I just need time to think, Lawrence.”

  “Of course, my boy, of course.” Lawrence nodded to a monk who appeared from the shadows. The monk unclipped a scanner from his belt and waved it across the ancient keyhole, which lit up briefly in cobalt blue. The cloister door clicked open.

  Jason raised his eyebrows. “Do all monasteries have state-of-the-art security?”

  “Only this one, my boy.”

  Jason scanned the single iron bed, the flagstone floors, and the lone sink in the corner. “I’ve seen worse, Lawrence.” He gave a wry smile. “Not often, though.”

  “Not exactly the Ritz, but it’s clean.” Lawrence beamed. “The bathrooms and other amenities are at the end of the corridor, first to the left.”

  Lawrence looked down at his watch. “Lunch is at one sharp. It’s not good for Brother Castigliano’s spiritual advancement if we’re late. He’s our chef, and a fine one, I must say—the gentlest of souls—but once he’s in the kitchen his Mediterranean blood tends to stir up easily. Finest cook in Egypt, though.”

  “Liam will stand guard at the end of the corridor.”

  Jason shook his head. “I don’t need a minder, Lawrence.”

  “Oh, but I’m afraid you do, Master Jason.”

  Lawrence and Jason exchanged a look. “Oh, I forgot to mention, you won’t lack for a valet.”

  Maxim ducked and walked into the room, his white hair awry, and beaming from ear to ear. “At your service, as always, Master Jason, sir,” he boomed. Jason shook his head in disbelief.

  Lawrence walked out of the cloister door. “One o’clock sharp,” he said, and disappeared down the corridor.

  “Brings back memories of boarding school,” Jason muttered.

  “Yes, Master Jason, sir, it certainly does.”

  Jason flung his suit jacket onto the bed. Maxim tut-tutted, then picked it up and dusted it off.

  Jason undid the top button on his shirt. “I don’t need babying, Maxim.”

  “Of course not, Master Jason.” Maxim opened the single piece of furniture in the room—a wardrobe—and beamed again.

  Jason raised his eyebrows.

  “Your favorite cashmere jersey. Six of your Ralph Lauren casual shirts. Six pants, pressed. Two blazers.”

  “And my favorite loafers.” Jason shook his head.

  “We have been expecting you, Master Jason.”

  Jason walked over to the window and stared out at the painstakingly maintained olive grove. “Yes, I can see that.”

  Maxim pointed to a bell on a pulley. “Please ring if you desire anything else I haven’t thought of. One ring for me, your valet. Two rings for Liam Mercer.”

  “I don’t need a val—”

  Maxim bowed and left the room.

  Jason shook his head. His precise brand and model of razor and shaving cream were laid out next to the basin, with his favorite aftershave.

  His “clean” phone vibrated at his hip. He checked the caller ID: Lily. Weaver must have given Julia and Lily his number. His face wreathed in a smile. Lily’s face appeared on the screen.

  “Lily.”

  “Hi, Dad, are you okay?”

  Jason opened the cloister window. “I’m fine, sweetheart—all the better for hearing you.”

  “Are you sure you’re okay, Dad? It’s just that Uncle Xavier said it was really important I get hold of you. It sounded urgent.”

  Jason froze. His thought processes seemed paralyzed. Finally, he spoke.

  “Lily, where, exactly, are you?” Each word seemed to echo in his head.

  “I’m at Uncle Adrian’s, Dad. Mom and Uncle Adrian arranged it after Gran’s funeral, at the wake. Uncle Ade’s been wanting me to come out to France for months, and Mom flew out to New York yesterday. Lulu’s with me.”

  Jason sat on the bed, his mind reeling. Lily and “his” ridgeback were with Adrian.

  There was a silence.

  “It’s really great here, Dad. The sun’s shining. Uncle Adrian’s spoiling me rotten.”

  “Lily.” Jason clenched the phone in his hand. “Listen very carefully to me. This is very important. You have to get out of there now.”

  “Dad? What on earth is the matter with you?”

  The phone clicked off.

  Jason redialed. There was a clicking noise on the other end of the phone. He dialed Julia’s cell phone.

  Six rings, and it clicked over to Julia’s voice mail.

  He pressed redial.

  Three rings.

  * * *

  Gramercy Park, Manhattan, New York

  “Jason, it’s six a.m. What’s going on?”

  “Lily’s what’s going on!” Jason snapped. He glared into the phone screen at Julia, who looked still groggy from sleep. “What the hell were you thinking of, to let her go!”

  “What are you talking about, Jason?” Julia snapped back.

  “Lily, of course, damn it.” He hesitated. “And my dog, come to think of it.”

  “She’s with her uncle—your brother, remember?” Julia’s voice was like ice. “And we both have custody of the dog, so don’t even dare go there.”

  Jason’s hands started to tremble with rage and fear. “Look, Julia, I’m sorry . . . ” He ran his fingers through his hair. “Look, I can’t explain now. Just for once in your life, trust me. Don’t speak to Adrian.”

  “Don’t speak to Adrian?”

  “Julia, listen to me. If he contacts you, whatever you do, don’t let him know we’ve talked. You have to trust me. Where are you?”

  “Gramercy, New York. The town house.”

  “Stay where you are. Until I contact you.”

  “Well, that’ll be three years, then.” Julia glared at him. Then her face vanished from the screen. The phone clicked off in Jason’s hand.

  “Damn!” he shouted in exasperation. He strode out the door to the end of the corridor.

  “Where is he?” He grasped Liam Mercer’s arm. “St. Cartier. Lawrence St. Cartier. Where will I find him?”

  “Follow me, please, Mr. De Vere.”

  Jason followed Liam down some old stone stairs.

  With trembling hands, Jason dialed Adrian’s number.

  In genial, well-modulated tones, Adrian’s private voice mail said, “Leave a message.”

  Finally, they reached an old wooden door signposted “THE CRYPTS.”

  “The professor is inside,” Liam said.

  He placed a small passkey into a digital scanner, and the old door slid open. Jason gasped.

  Over a hundred monks and Chinese youths worked feverishly in front of an immense bank of surveillance screens that stretched over the entire room. Liam nodded politely to Jason and disappeared.

  The professor and Nick stood behind Dylan Weaver, intently watching one of the largest screens.

  Nick turned. “Jas,” he said softly, “it seems we have a situation.”

  Jason followed his gaze to the surveillance screen. Facing him on the screen was Lily, in the cliff garden at Mont St. Michel. She had her phone in one hand, and her head was thrown back in laughter. She was in conversation with a tall man in priestly a
ttire.

  Jason could see only the back of the man’s head. His black hair was tightly bound in one braid by a black ribbon. Lily was laughing until tears rolled down her cheeks.

  The priest wheeled her around the manicured rose beds. Lulu, the ridgeback, was following them. Jason frowned. The normally affectionate dog was growling.

  “Who’s the priest?” Jason asked Lawrence.

  At that precise moment, the priest turned and raised his head. His striking features were fully visible, almost as though he sensed them watching him.

  Nick’s eyes widened in disbelief. “I know him!” he gasped. “I mean, I’ve seen him before. At Mont St. Michel. The night Adrian tried to kill me.”

  “You’re sure?” Lawrence asked.

  “I’ll never forget his face. Beatrice said he was a royal prince. The security surrounding him was unprecedented. He took over the entire west wing of Mont St. Michel. He gives me the creeps.”

  Lawrence stared at the screen, his face inscrutable.

  “He goes by the name of Lorcan De Molay,” Lawrence said very softly. “The order of the Jesuits.” He paused. “Many years ago, another lifetime away, I mentored him.”

  Nick stared at Lawrence in disbelief. “When you were in the Jesuits? The CIA?”

  Lawrence did not answer but said, “Unfortunately, he crossed over to the dark side.”

  “You’re telling me an evil priest is wheeling my daughter around?”

  Jason pressed redial.

  “Adrian, I know you’re there. If anything happens to Lily, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

  Lawrence nodded to Weaver. Nick shook his head at Jason.

  The surveillance screen’s images changed to Adrian’s private dining room. Jason stared in disbelief.

  Adrian was seated at the mahogany dining table where he and Jason had dined so many times before. His phone lay on the table directly in front of him. It was flashing blue.

  “Zoom in, Dylan,” Lawrence murmured.

  Adrian’s caller ID read “Jason De Vere—cell.”

  Adrian studied the caller ID, picked up the phone, and answered leisurely. His chiseled features appeared on Jason’s phone screen.

  “You should have thought things through more carefully before you eluded my security forces and escaped from Babylon, Jason. We might not be having this conversation if you had been—how shall I phrase it?” He leisurely took a forkful of the crayfish hors d’oeuvres. “More measured. But you were never measured, were you, Jason? Not even when we were young.”

  Jason stared stonily at the screen.

  “You’ve betrayed me, Jason,” Adrian continued. “You’ve betrayed my cause.”

  He smiled slightly.

  “And now someone has to be punished. And as you’re not here, you’ve unfortunately left me with no option. I have to revert to plan B, which, as you’ve no doubt already gathered . . . ” He smiled genially. “ . . . is Lily.”

  Sweat broke out on Jason’s forehead.

  “Nicholas!” Adrian’s tone became smoother. “How nice to see you. Returned from the dead, I see. How clever of you.”

  His eyes grew hard as steel.

  “Charsoc the Dark warned you in Jerusalem, Jether. You might want to watch this.”

  He walked over to the vast French doors and flung them open.

  Weaver switched on a sixth surveillance screen.

  Two hundred feet below Adrian, Lily was in her wheelchair. The priest, his face now hidden, pushed her to the far edge of the garden, where the rockeries sloped steeply toward the towering cliff edge of Mont St. Michel. He leaned over and fiddled with the wheelchair brakes. Lulu growled slightly. The priest turned to her, and instantly she lay on the ground, yelping.

  Jason, Nick, and Lawrence watched in horror as the priest turned and walked back toward the castle.

  The wheelchair began to roll down the slope, gaining speed. Lily frowned, then pulled the brake handle. Nothing happened. Lulu started to bark.

  “He’s tampered with the brakes!” Nick whispered.

  Lawrence gestured to Liam. “Mercer, get hold of Pierre now.”

  The wheelchair hurtled toward the cliff edge. As Lily stared in horror at the oncoming precipice, Lorcan De Molay turned from higher ground. And smiled.

  Jason watched, frozen, as Lily was thrown from her wheelchair and went hurtling over the edge of the cliff, into the quicksand below.

  She screamed in terror. “Help me,” she cried.

  Jason gripped the table with both hands. His entire body started to tremble. He could see Lulu standing at the top of the cliff, barking and pawing at the edge.

  Jason turned to Lawrence. “Don’t just stand there—do something!” he shouted. Then he turned back to the screen.

  As the tide raced in, Lily sank, sucked down by Mont St. Michel’s treacherous quicksands.

  Distraught, Jason picked up the phone. “Get the emergency services, for God’s sake!” he yelled.

  Dylan Weaver pointed to the monitor. “We did,” he said. “They’ve overridden us.”

  Jason stared at the computer screen. “Who? Who’s overridden us?”

  Nick pointed to the screen that read “Request Mont St. Michel. Drowning. Immediate response.” Underneath were the words “False alarm. Deactivate. Code 0099.”

  “Adrian.” Jason punched the chair.

  “He’s president of the European Superstate, Jason,” Nick said quietly. “He controls the emergency services.”

  Jason stared from Nick to Lawrence, his breathing shallow. He grasped his phone and pressed redial.

  “You bastard!” he screamed down the phone. “You bastard, Adrian,” he yelled. “I’ll find you, wherever you are, and kill you with my bare hands. It’s my new mission in life!”

  Tears coursed down Jason’s cheeks. He wiped them away with the back of his hand. Very gently, Nick pried his fingers from the cell phone.

  * * *

  Lily lay crippled and helpless on the treacherous quicksands of Mont St. Michel as the tide rushed in. She tried to move, but every effort only sank her deeper in the mire.

  Calm down, she told herself. Get yourself together, Lily. You’re your father’s daughter. Calm down. The emergency services are on their way right now.

  Tears streamed down her face. “Oh, God, help me,” she cried, her mind racing even faster than the rapidly rising water.

  Surely Uncle Adrian would get help.

  The waves were covering her chest and lapping at her chin. She stared up at the cliff far above her. She was sinking deeper into the quicksand. Lulu was still barking frantically.

  There, standing far above her on the balcony, was Uncle Adrian. He looked down at her.

  And smiled.

  Lily was now completely submerged except for her face and neck, and the tide was still rushing in. She swallowed more water.

  She was drowning. Something terrible was happening. Uncle Adrian was letting her drown. She was completely alone, and she was going to die. She struggled for breath.

  Then, through the saltwater, she saw coming toward her, smiling, her long, dark hair flying in the winds . . . her grandmother.

  Lily stared in disbelief. Lilian was reaching out her hand, as though trying to tell Lily something.

  As the waves swept over Lily’s nose and mouth she looked up at Lilian.

  Lilian smiled down at her, and as Lily smiled back, Lilian faded into the heavens.

  Suddenly, Lily knew what Lilian had been trying to tell her. And as the waves came in, before they submerged her face completely she took her last breath.

  And prayed.

  * * *

  Jason sat frozen, his eyes staring straight ahead. He snatched the phone from Nick’s grasp.

  “For the seventh time, for the love of God, damn it,” he screamed into the phone, “my daughter is drowning in quicksand at Mont St. Michel! For God’s sake, do something!”

  “No. It’s not a false alert!”

  He gasped f
or breath.

  “I don’t care if it’s signed by the head of Europol! Don’t you get it? They’re murdering my daughter!”

  He stopped for breath, tears coursing down his face.

  “Get a Red Cross helicopter there now!” he screamed.

  He grasped Lawrence fiercely by both shoulders, shaking him. “Do something!” he screamed.

  He dropped his hands from Lawrence’s shoulders. “For the love of God,” he sobbed.

  His cell phone slipped from his hand to the floor.

  “For the love of God,” he rasped. He stared around at Lawrence, then at Nick.

  “For the love of God,” he mouthed in agony. His body was racked with sobs.

  Gently Lawrence picked up the phone from the floor. Nick looked on as Jason sat, struggling to breathe. His own shoulders shook with fury and grief.

  Lawrence walked over to a far cupboard and unlocked the door. He took out a bottle of Irish whisky and poured it into a nearby glass until the glass was completely full.

  Then, walking over to a cupboard of glass containers filled with herbal potions, he removed a small vial of white powder. He poured a teaspoon of the powder into the glass and stirred it vigorously. Walking back, he held the glass out to Jason.

  Jason stared blankly ahead, eyes wide with raw pain. Nick gently placed Jason’s fingers around the glass.

  “Drink it, Jason,” he whispered.

  Slowly Jason gripped the glass, sobbing as he drank, Nick’s hand on his shoulder all the while. Maxim stood quietly next to Liam in the doorway.

  Jason stood up. His eyes were beginning to blur, and his legs buckled beneath him. He collapsed into the chair, and his head fell onto his chest.

  “Take him back to his room,” Lawrence whispered to Nick. “I gave him a rather strong herbal central nervous system depressant. In combination with the whisky, its effects are greatly intensified. It should knock him out.”

  Nick and a monk lifted Jason to his feet.

  Lawrence watched as they walked through the crypt door.

  “Well, you’d better get a move on, Liam. And, Xacheriel, there’s no point in blabbing on about Double-o-seven if you’re just going to stand there.

  “Let’s get to work!”

  * * *

  Lawrence reached out his hand toward the empty cliff on the virtual screen. “Deum Patrem omnipotentem.” He moved nearer and closed his eyes.