"I could try to distract him, monsieur."
Matt had a better idea. "Can you find a roll of surgical tape?"
"I know where to get you a big roll, monsieur." And she was gone. The guard held his MP5 as Matt walked forward. Matt put up a hand in a gesture of peace. "I'm waiting for someone."
The GIGN man was not to be fooled. He cocked his gun. "Stay still, monsieur, while I check with Major Louviers on your movements."
"The Mother Superior is meeting me here." Matt noticed the fire extinguisher on the wall. It would make a great weapon, but he would have to be quick. Louviers' man already had the radio to his mouth.
"Here she comes." He pointed at the doors. An old trick but the man looked round. Matt snatched the extinguisher from the wall and flung it at the guard. The guard raised his weapon as a shield but the heavy extinguisher drove the gun into his chest, smashing him against the wall.
Instantly, Matt leapt forward and clamped an arm tightly around the guard's neck. As they both fell to the floor the guard let out a scream of rage.
"Be careful, monsieur. Do not hurt him."
The Mother Superior had returned. She stood above them as they struggled, a wide roll of white surgical tape held out helplessly. "Is this what you wanted, monsieur?"
"Quick, tear off a long strip."
She obeyed without hesitation.
"Wrap it round his mouth or he'll bring the whole outfit here."
She tried, but the tape became tangled in her white habit.
Matt increased his grip until he felt the guard's body go limp. "Have another go." The first strip covered the guard's mouth. A second strip tied his wrists together behind his back.
"His ankles, monsieur?" The Mother Superior was catching on fast.
"I want him trussed up like a turkey," grunted Matt. "His knees next." He kicked the MP5 away. "Give me the tape."
The man stayed motionless.
"We'd better make sure he's still alive," said Matt breathlessly when he had taped every limb that could move. "You check. I'm not very good at it."
The Mother Superior bent over the body and pulled the surgical tape well clear of the nose. She nodded. "Alive and breathing well."
The man's eyes opened, filled with such fury that Matt looked away quickly.
"I'll get the gun. We're going in." He retrieved the MP5 and noticed the bent barrel. The fire extinguisher had been heavy. The submachine gun would never work, but it might fool Bernetti.
The doors were locked from the inside. Matt rattled them frantically but no one came. Then he noticed a phone on the wall that was unlike the other phones in the clinic.
"Where does this ring?"
"Directly in the operating room, monsieur."
"Then why didn't you..." He decided to keep silent. The Mother Superior had been nothing but helpful so far. He picked up the phone and a woman answered immediately.
"Senior nurse."
"Let me speak to Dr. Bernetti."
"Can't do. He's busy right now."
"It's urgent. Dr. Bernetti is going to kill the patient."
"The patient is dead."
It couldn't be true. "Say that again."
"Dr. Bernetti has just switched off the patient's life support."
The central lock of the double doors was going to be the weak point. No one would have designed it to withstand a serious attack. The long table by the wall had a fair bit of weight to it. Matt slammed it forward, smashing the end into the center of the doors.
There was a sharp noise from the catch as something gave. Again he slammed the table forward. The doors swung open.
The lights flooded down onto the high table, illuminating Zoé's body under a green sheet. A huge stainless steel clamp held her orange painted head in place. Bernetti and the medical team stared at him in alarm.
For a moment Matt stood where he was, dazed by the scene. Air bottles and trolleys of surgical equipment. And the team packing everything away.
"I am so sorry," said a nurse coming forward. "Dr. Bernetti did his best, but unfortunately there were complications."
Suddenly Matt realized that the room was silent. The tubes were no longer hissing. The machinery was quiet.
"Dr. Bernetti did everything he could. He said had no choice but to switch off the life support."
"Switch it on again," Matt shouted.
The nurse took him by the arm. "You must leave immediately."
He pulled himself free. "Bernetti killed Nurse Corbin. You have to keep Zoé alive."
The team hesitated. One of the nurses went to the trolley, obviously in two minds.
The Mother Superior nodded. "Do as he says."
Nothing more. But it was enough. Her voice carried more authority than Bernetti's. Quickly the oxygen began to hiss again. Two nurses pulled back the green sheet and placed the defibrillator paddles on Zoé's chest. Her body jerked violently.
Bernetti ran forward, pulling at the tubes. Matt jerked the submachine gun, even though the barrel was bent. If he pulled the trigger the barrel would blow, and he'd kill himself.
Bernetti stood with his arms raised as Matt approached the operating trolley to give Zoé's body a kiss. The Mother Superior held out her arm. "You must not get in the way, monsieur. Leave it to the professionals."
"Bernetti did this. It's his fault that Zoé's dead."
The surgeon snatched up a scalpel that had fallen to the floor, catching Matt unprepared. "The girl, I make sure she die."
He knew how to divert a knife attack and caught Bernetti's wrist as the scalpel came down. But the Italian twisted himself free and ran for the operating table. Matt caught him by the shoulder and tried to pull him away from Zoé. The nurses were no help at all. They just looked on.
"Raise the alarm." Matt grabbed the Italian by the throat. Up came the scalpel, waving so close to his face that he could feel the heat from Bernetti's hand.
He pushed his fingers deep under the surgeon's soft chin, forcing the head backwards. Bernetti struggled to regain his balance but his white surgical boots slipped on the wet floor and he fell sideways into the defibrillator trolley. Matt noticed two buttons on the hand-held unit. Yellow button charges, black button triggers. It was as though Zoé was speaking as he recalled their earlier conversation.
He grabbed the two paddles that looked like domestic irons and pressed the yellow button. The main console hummed with energy. Then as Bernetti retrieved the scalpel from the floor, Matt forced the paddles each side of the Italian's head and pushed the black button.
Bernetti's muscles tightened as a massive jolt of energy blasted through his body. The shock ran through Matt, flinging him away.
The surgeon's arm slashed sideways in an uncontrolled contraction of muscles, the surgical blade in his hand slicing through his windpipe. He gave a feeble cry of agony as blood flowed from his mouth and neck.
A nurse screamed.
Bernetti lay on the floor still grasping the scalpel.
Louviers hurried into the room with two of his men. "Stay where you are, Monsieur Rider."
Chapter Fifty
Clinic of the Little Sisters of Tourvillon
"YOU TIE up one of my men, and suddenly another surgeon is dead. What am I to do with you, Monsieur Rider?"
Louviers sat with Matt in the area outside the operating room. Matt had been so occupied with rescuing Zoé that he'd not realized Bernetti had slashed him several times with the scalpel. He felt a stinging in his arm, and noticed for the first time the cuts in his shirt.
"You should have listened to me," Matt said coldly.
"Perhaps I should," agreed Louviers. "Dr. Bernetti is dead but I believe you killed him in self-defense. I am sure there will be no charges. I have learned a lot from you, Monsieur Rider. One of my men has also learned a lesson. He will not, I have to tell you, be staying on in the GIGN. We make no allowance for failure."
"The Mother Superior helped me overcome him."
Louviers shook his head. "That, m
onsieur, will not be going in anyone's records. You may be interested to know that they young priest is asking for you at the front desk. He has some papers."
His heart pumping wildly, Matt tried to look only vaguely interested. "Can I see him?"
"He is helping us with our inquiries, Monsieur Rider."
He'd been a fool not to realize that Louviers would have tapped every phone line. He recalled the Archbishop's warning. Do not trust anyone, not even the GIGN.
"Is Alain in trouble?"
Louviers shook his head unemotionally. "Relax, monsieur, I have searched Dr. Bernetti's room. The contents of his desk will enable us to close down more than K7. We are on our way to recovering a horde of stolen art."
"So what happens now?"
"The national police will take over. It is not a one-man band, not an operation of this size. Bernetti and his friends stood to net millions of dollars. This whole clinic is a watering hole of corruption, and everyone will know it was you who blew the whistle."
"I'd rather you kept that bit to yourself," said Matt firmly. "But at least I saved Zoé."
"You saved her from Dr. Bernetti, Monsieur Rider, but her condition is still critical. Her life support was switched off for nearly two minutes."
"Is there no one here who can help her?"
"I have some good news. God knows you deserve it. Two surgeons have just arrived by helicopter from Rome. Archbishop Valdieri summoned them shortly before he was taken ill."
"The cavalry?"
Louviers smiled. "The Archbishop realized it would be irresponsible to allow any of the clinic's surgeons to operate on the Holy Father, so he called for outside help. He wants you to know he is grateful for all you have done, monsieur."
"He wants me to know? Archbishop Valdieri has recovered?"
"The Archbishop, I am glad to say, is on the way to recovery."
"He was dead. I checked for a pulse," Matt insisted.
Louviers offered Matt a cigarette, which he refused. The Major replaced the pack in his pocket. "His pulse was too weak to detect by hand. The Archbishop understands that you put the Holy Father's life before his."
"That's not quite true," admitted Matt. "I did it for Zoé."
"We must not disillusion Archbishop Valdieri, Monsieur Rider. He was ready to give his life for the Holy Father."
"These two surgeons who've come from Rome, are they members of K7?"
Louviers sounded uncomfortable. "I ... I cannot be sure."
"What's going on, Major?" Matt looked at Louviers in astonishment. "If they're from K7, they won't want any of us to live to tell the tale. And you're prepared to let them loose on Zoé?"
"Monsieur Rider, your girlfriend is not going to get through the night without expert surgery. Bernetti may have been right to switch off the life support machine to save her from a painful and inevitable death. Only time will tell."
"I'd better have another go at phoning Zoé's parents. You'll need their consent."
Louviers shook his head. "One of the surgeons from Rome has already started to operate. I have kept the clinic's senior anesthetist under open arrest so that he can assist."
"And the Pope?" Matt looked up as a nurse appeared at the door to the consulting room. She carried a black medical bag. "Is the Pope ill, or did Bernetti and his friends in Rome have something to do with it?"
"I have told you all I know, monsieur." Louviers sighed. "Who can say what fabrications we will find in the records?"
A man in a surgeon's jacket now entered the room and spoke quietly to the nurse. He was Italian, probably one of the new surgeons from Rome. He glanced at Matt, but whatever he said to the nurse, Matt was unable to hear.
Matt held the pad to his slashed arm. He thought again of the bright orange paint -- and Zoé's shaved head. The hiss of artificial ventilation. And the tubes.
"Why aren't you both operating on Zoé Champanelle?"
The Italian spoke softly. "Monsieur Rider, at the moment, I am concerned for your injuries."
Matt looked at the red-stained pad on his arm. "Just get on and help Zoé."
The surgeon shook his head. "I am sorry, Monsieur Rider, you misunderstand. That scalpel fell on the floor. In all operating rooms, even the best, there are dangerous bacteria. You could be in grave danger."
Matt felt his pulse quicken and the cuts began to throb more intensely. "So what do I do?"
The nurse opened the black case. She pulled a syringe and a small glass bottle from inside.
"Is that for me?" Matt felt a rising horror.
The nurse sank the needle into the membrane across the top of the bottle.
Matt held his breath as she pulled the pad off his arm. "It's hard to know who trust," he said.
The blood on his arm welled up and quickly started to run in a steady flow. "Yes, very hard," she replied as she held the syringe upright.
Matt stared at the tip of the needle as a fine streak of liquid squirted high into the air. He swallowed and braced himself.
The nurse did not even smile.
The needle went in with a sharp stab.
Chapter Fifty-One
Two days later
"SHE'S REGAINING consciousness, Mr. Rider."
Matt woke and looked round the clinic bedroom. He'd been dreaming that a large hawk was swooping down on him as he pushed his old Mini down a long drive outside a derelict house. But he was on his feet in an instant at the nurse's voice.
Zoé lay in intensive care, her head now heavily bandaged. Matt could see no signs of movement, just hear the hiss of tubes.
"She opened her eyes," the nurse assured him, but they were closed now.
"Zoé," he said, leaning over and kissing her forehead as he had done before her operation. "Can you hear me?"
Zoé opened her eyes and stared at him. "Yes," she said. "Yes, I will marry you."
Chapter Fifty-Two
TO HIS HOLINESS THE POPE
FROM ARCHBISHOP STEPHEN VALDIERI
GEMELLI HOSPITAL, ROME
It is with the greatest pleasure that I learn today of the successful completion of your surgery here in Rome. I join with the Church in her prayers for your speedy return to full health. However, I feel extreme guilt over the way I handled your security arrangements. I attempted to grasp for too much, and under those circumstances I should never have allowed you to travel to the Clinic of the Little Sisters of Tourvillon.
I confess that I was carried away by an excess of zeal in trying to conduct investigations into the ethical running of the clinic and into the supply of stolen religious art. The safeguard of your health should have been my sole function in this instance. It is no secret that I have come under considerable pressure from many senior staff to move away from Rome. Therefore, after prayerful consideration I now wish to advise you that I feel compelled to resign from....
Valdieri paused, his pen pressed against his cheek. Then he smiled to himself, screwed up the paper and tossed it into the bin by the side of his hospital bed.
Resign? More than eighty percent of the ancient icons from Smolensk had been recovered, he had K7 on the run, and the Holy Father was doing just fine.
He nodded to himself as he looked again at the morning mail. An invitation from the New York diocese. An ecclesiastical position at Saint Patrick's Cathedral; a position with a fancy name and nothing too onerous in the way of duties. He was discretely being given the push, in spite of the apparently generous relocation. Maybe it was time to leave Rome for a more tranquil life. Return to America where it all began. Yes, he would make a complete break and go it alone -- with God.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Clinic of the Little Sisters of Tourvillon
"SORRY I COULDN'T get here last night, kiddo. It's a hell of a way down to Avignon by car."
Matt smiled at the way Ken pronounced the "g" in Avignon. "I'll take you up to see Zoé. And no wisecracks about her hair -- or lack of it."
"Okay, Matt. You know me."
"Yes, and that's
why I'm warning you."
Matt led the way from the front desk. Zoé was being cared for by the token staff that remained. He felt sorry for the nurses now the authorities had closed the place. Perhaps they would be able to find work in other clinics. Mazie Meyran was staying on in Avignon, and he found himself wondering if Mazie and Alain would get together one day -- and felt almost shocked by his fertile imagination so soon after Leanne's death.
They found Zoé sitting on the balcony in a patch of shade, looking through binoculars at a pair of black kites soaring above the hillside. On a low table by her side lay her silver flute. Learning to play the tricky sections of Debussy's Arabesque had surely helped in her recovery.
"Bonjour, Ken." Zoé smiled broadly as she put the binoculars down, seemingly unaware of her medical dressings and shaved head. Ken stood in the doorway, embarrassed to go further into the room. "You're properly dressed, I hope. My, you look rough."
Matt groaned but Zoé just laughed. "I looked worse a week ago." She glanced at Matt. "Have you told him yet?"
"We're getting married," said Matt.
"You, kiddo, getting hitched?"
He nodded. "I can't risk losing Zoé, but I'm not walking out on you, Ken. Not yet."
"I suppose it's congratulations then."
"What do you mean, suppose?" demanded Matt. "Just because you and Mrs. Habgood..."
"So what's happening to this flash place?" interrupted Ken.
"The Mother Superior wants to go back into business in a small way. Apparently the visions of Sister Angela still have some mileage in them."
"You are being cynical," warned Zoé.
"No, I'm not." Matt made an effort to sound offended. "I've been getting on well with Reverend Mother now that I've promised to watch my language. Underneath her tough shell, I've discovered a caring, Christian woman."
Ken smiled enthusiastically. "I'd like to meet her."
Matt shook his head. "She's tough, but not that tough."
"Do you two know the waves you've made?"
"We've had no reporters or interviews, by order of the Vatican. I gather there's a big scandal in the world outside."
Ken slumped into a white wicker chair and looked exhausted from his journey. "It sounds as though the Pope is going to survive. Any talk of an award?"
Matt pulled a face. "They can't work out my motives for dressing the Pope up as Archbishop Valdieri and taking him to the Mother Superior."
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