"It's not a matter of preference. I rarely get the chance, though with you I'd probably choose to shoot you dead."
Berger faced him again and eyed him dubiously. "Perhaps. Perhaps you would not."
The statement confused Sean, but before he could retort, Berger stepped away from the window and wandered over to the far end of the room. He stood there for a moment, staring at the blank wall where an old television mount was still bolted to the wall.
"Where is the ring, Sean? Surely by now, you can see that no matter what scenario you choose for this little game, you cannot win. The only way to save your friends is to tell me where it is. Do that, and they may not cross my path. Don't, and I hunt them down, picking them off one by one. I'll start with Wagner. Then I'll kill your friend Tommy. I'll make it hurt, too. But I will save the best for last."
Sean snickered. "Here's the part where you threaten to hurt my wife, and that's somehow supposed to get a rise out of me, make me lose my cool, inevitably coughing up the location."
Sean lowered his head in dejection. Berger was right. He'd used up all his moves, and now the only one he had left would land him in checkmate.
"Well?"
The first thought that popped into Sean's mind was that Adriana would be a handful for this guy no matter how extensive his training had been. He thought better of it. If Sean was going to help his friends, he'd have to delay Berger and Bodmer. He'd only get one chance. The second the two men realized they'd been lied to, they'd kill Sean without hesitation.
He had to take them somewhere. An idea emerged through the fog of thoughts hanging in his head.
It was perfect—unless of course the ring really was there. That could be problematic, but he'd have to risk it. It was the best option he could conjure that Berger would likely believe.
"The ring is in the cathedral at Notre-Dame," Sean said. He spoke with an even tone, emotionless and cool.
Berger arched an eyebrow and inclined his head as he assessed whether or not Sean was telling the truth.
"Is it, now?" The grand master didn't sound convinced.
Sean felt like the man could see through his soul, picking out every tiny inconsistency or falsehood.
Sean nodded. "We won't know for sure until we go look."
A vibrating sound cut off Sean's explanation. His head snapped back to Bodmer, who was still standing at the door with lips sealed. He reached into his black jacket pocket and fished out a phone. Sean's phone.
Berger turned to see what the source of interruption was. "Ah," the man said, "it would appear your friends are trying to reach you. Is that right, Commander?"
Bodmer nodded. "It's Tommy."
Sean bit his tongue. The immediate urge was to go on the defensive, to tell the men not to answer the phone, but it was no use and he knew it.
"Answer it," Berger ordered. "I'm interested to see if your friends came to the same conclusion you did regarding the cathedral."
Bodmer tapped on the green button and the call connected within a second. He pressed the device to his ear. "The prodigal son returns," Bodmer said.
Tommy snorted through the earpiece. "Seriously? That's the best you could do? Some worn out cliché? Come on, Bodmer. I expected better from you. Sounds like you've been watching too many spy movies. You should get out more."
"What do you want, Tommy?" Bodmer actively chose to ignore the barbs coming from the man on the other end of the line. "You know we have Sean, which is why you called his phone. That must mean you have something we want, or you want to make some kind of deal to get your friend back."
Sean's expression didn't change. He didn't widen his eyes at the hope of being saved from whatever fate these men had planned for him. He knew better. He knew that he was being constantly watched for any sign of weakness, and Sean Wyatt was not going to give them an inch.
"Yes, I'm aware," Tommy said. "Very astute of you to connect those dots." His tone was lathered in venom so thick it could have paralyzed a horse, or at the very least a weaker-minded person.
"It's simple, Tommy. We want the ring of the Baptist. Deliver that to us, and we can talk about letting Sean go home with most of his appendages." He let the threat linger for a moment, knowing that Tommy would wonder which fingers or limbs had been removed from his friend's body since they last saw each other.
When Tommy replied, it was in a deep grumble. "Let me tell you something, Commander. Your life is over. You realize that? I'm not just talking about your career with the Swiss Guard. I figure you were going to leave that behind anyway once you went down this path. So, let me put this in words you can understand. If you hurt Sean in any way, I destroy the ring. I find out you're lying about anything, I destroy the ring. If you piss me off, I destroy the ring. And then after I do that, I will destroy you. Do you understand me? I will end you." Tommy's sneering voice trailed off.
The darkness behind his words caught even Adriana off guard. It was a side she hadn't seen often from her friend, though he captured her exact feelings and everything she would have said with his little tirade.
There was a long pause on the line before Bodmer spoke again. "Where do you want to meet?"
Tommy glanced at Adriana and Wagner before answering, as if they could hear the question. He thought fast. "The Arc de Triomphe," Tommy said. "I'd demand no weapons, but you would demand the same. So, come as you are."
"I will. Oh, and Tommy? When this is all over, you're going to die."
Bodmer ended the call before Tommy's temper kicked in and he could say anything else. His chest heaved up and down as he tried to calm himself with breathing exercises. He was furious, but anger would do him no good. Still, he needed to reel it in before they went to the rendezvous point.
"Where are we meeting them?" Adriana asked.
"Meeting them?" Wagner sounded concerned. "We don't have the ring, and you just told them we do. If we show up without it, they're going to kill us."
"They're going to kill Sean if we don't."
"He's probably already dead."
Tommy's nostrils flared, and Wagner could see the big man's rage was beginning to switch targets. "Sorry," Wagner added quickly.
"He's alive. I know that. Our only option is to go meet them and find out where they're keeping Sean."
"You don't think they'll bring him to the meet-up?"
"No," Tommy said. "They'll have him somewhere out of sight. So, we'll work the same angle with what they want."
38
PARIS
Adriana, Tommy, and Wagner stepped out of the cab and waited as the vehicle pulled away. Each one of them was armed, though not as heavily as they would have preferred. With one pistol each, they weren't a formidable force, though the weapons they carried could land them in a French prison. Again.
The dark sky overhead was muddled from the humid air and muted by the light pollution from the city. Patches of clouds drifted lazily across the face of the moon. It was the perfect night for monsters to roam the old city. The three knew the monsters they were about to meet weren't like the fantastical beasts of old fairy tales. There were no vampires, no werewolves, no dragons. In some ways, those creatures would have been preferable. Human beings could be far worse.
The Arc de Triomphe was a few hundred feet away. The colors of the French flag rotated through a timed sequence of lights illuminating the monument. A huge French flag hung directly under the arch. It was well beyond prime time for tourists, but there were still a few dozen loitering around, taking pictures, laughing, posing like a bunch of…well, tourists.
"This is good," Tommy said. "Still plenty of people around. I doubt Berger would be so bold as to try starting a gunfight in the middle of a crowd."
Wagner's gaze fell on Tommy. The older man didn't say anything. He didn't have to. The look he gave Tommy said enough. Berger was bold enough to do that. And cruel enough to not care about collateral damage.
"There he is," Adriana said. She didn't point, choosing to be subtle.
The other two followed the direction in which she nodded and saw the leader of the Teutonic Order leaning against one of the columns.
He was shrouded in shadow. The lights of passing cars, the flashes of phones and their cameras, even the beams that illuminated the surface of the arched monument seemed to avoid him, drawing close but only daring to cast wayward glows onto his face.
He was big, well over six feet tall, and his arms were crossed as he appeared to be casually watching people come and go.
"I guess we should go talk," Tommy said.
Adriana nodded, and Tommy stepped away from the car.
They made their way along the sidewalk toward the arch, walking deliberately and scanning their surroundings. Adriana noted a couple kissing behind a thin tree trunk off to the left. In the bushes nearby was another person, a silhouette if it could be called that. He was nearly invisible, but she'd spotted him. He wasn't paying attention to the kissing couple. He was watching Adriana and her companions. She flicked her eyes to the right and spotted another watcher, this one standing nonchalantly near a park bench. By the time they reached the base of the monument, Adriana counted nineteen men watching their every move. That wasn't to say she assumed they were the only ones. There could have easily been a dozen more hiding on the other side of the road or farther away, perhaps in sniper nests, ready to take them out when the order was given.
She didn't like being exposed like this, out in the open, easy targets. Adriana knew there was one thing keeping them alive at this very moment: restraint.
Berger knew that if he killed her and the two men with her, he wouldn't get what he wanted. The ring would be lost, although that was making the assumption they didn't have it in their possession. The grand master of the Teutonic Order was at least giving them that much credit—that they wouldn't be foolish enough to show up with the priceless relic. Then again, that also meant Sean would be nowhere nearby.
The grand master was still leaning one shoulder against the stone column as Adriana and the others approached. She slowed her pace, letting Tommy take the lead as they had discussed before arriving at the arch.
Tommy stopped several feet short of where Berger stood. The older man's eyes sized him up in less than a second. Tommy was certainly shorter than Berger, but what he lacked in height Tommy made up for in brute strength. Over the years, he'd continued his workouts, his training, and had honed his body into a stout structure that could both take and deal out punishment.
"I assume you're armed," Berger commented nonchalantly.
"We have a saying back home about what happens when you assume," Tommy said with a coy smirk. "Doesn't usually work out for the one doing the assuming."
"Ah. Well, I'm certain you know I'm armed." Berger pulled back the thin peacoat to reveal a .45-caliber pistol on his hip. It was brazen to wear a firearm in such an easily seen place, at least in this country. Doing so showed that this man didn't fear the cops. He probably owned many of them, which gave Tommy pause to wonder how they'd gotten out of jail alive.
"We knew you would be," Tommy said. "Just like we knew you'd bring reinforcements."
He let his eyes flit to the left as if signaling Berger to give a look to his men.
"You saw my men." He made the statement as if Tommy had merely noted the color of grass was green. "I did not position them in a way that they would be invisible to you. I wanted you to know what you're dealing with so you don't get any stupid ideas."
Tommy forced a chuckle, though he was not in the mood to laugh. They were in a tight spot, even though there were still dozens of innocent civilians standing around, doing what tourist’s do best—take pictures.
"I don't expect a shootout here," Tommy confessed. He could feel Adriana and Wagner close behind him even though he didn't turn to check their positions.
"Why would you?" Berger asked, extending his hands out wide as if showing off the area. "So many innocent people. We wouldn't want any stray bullets hitting them."
Tommy inclined his head, uncertain if the man meant what he was saying. It didn't sound like he cared. In truth, Tommy knew he didn't. This guy cared only about one thing: getting the ring of John the Baptist. After that, who knew what he was going to try next? It was anyone's guess.
It was a dangerous game of poker that Tommy was playing with this man, and he knew he couldn't overplay his hand. His eyes narrowed as he considered what to say next, and he wondered what the other man was thinking.
Before he could say anything, Berger spoke again. "I see you brought some dead weight with you." He nodded, indicating Wagner. "Found an old knight of your own, did you? I'm sure he told you that he intends to take the ring back to Malta, to Valletta where it can be put back in the reliquary. No doubt, he's convinced you that his island is where it belongs."
"It is where it belongs. Don't for one moment try to pretend this is about anything more than your greed and a false sense of truth you've managed to twist and bend to justify your actions."
Berger's head rocked back for a second as he snorted a forced laugh at Wagner's comment. "Please. That useless rock of land you call home is undeserving of such a powerful relic. You already lost it once. If it ended up back there, you would simply lose it again. No, it will be safer with me, with someone who understands its true power."
Tommy wanted to keep the man talking, to stall as long as he could. He glanced around, as if hoping something might miraculously happen, but he knew no miracle was coming. Berger had been strategic about where he placed his men. If anything went south, the rest of his team would converge on the Arc de Triomphe with swift and deadly speed. Not only that; they might never locate Sean.
"I guess," Tommy said, keeping the conversation going, "this is where I ask you where Sean is. You ask me where the ring is, then I tell you it's not here."
Berger's eyebrows lifted slightly, but he kept his demeanor calm.
Tommy went on. "We go around and around a few times before we come to some kind of an arrangement where you show me a picture or video of Sean that convinces me he's safe, and I tell you where to find the ring."
"Direct. Blunt. To the point. I like that."
"Time is the one resource you can't get more of in this life. Why waste it with pleasantries and banter? You want the ring. We want my friend back. Tell us where he is. Show me proof. And I will tell you where you can find the ring."
Berger appeared to consider the offer for a moment. A sedan drove by with the windows down, playing a song by a popular electronic dance music DJ.
"Proof? Where will my proof be?" Berger asked. "You want me to tell you where your friend is, but you will likely take the information and try to leave without giving me details about the whereabouts of the ring. I don't think so."
"So, we're at an impasse," Tommy said. "You're going to have to trust me a little on this one."
"Do I have to trust you?" Berger shook his head. "No, I don't think I do. You see, I believe I'm going to take you three and force you to tell me where the ring is."
"That would cause a scene," Tommy said. "I don't think you want to cause a scene. Besides, if you do anything to hurt the three of us, any of us, you'll lose your chance at finding it. Maybe the new grand master will have better luck…in four hundred years."
"Oh, I know what's at stake here, but you have one problem with your plan."
"And that is?"
"You underestimate my willingness to torture everyone you care about in order to get the information we want. So, you can do this one of two ways, Thomas. You can tell me what I want to know right now and trust that I will give you the true location where I'm keeping your friend. Or you can put up a fight right now where there is the potential for accidents—you know, those innocent people you mentioned—all of which will end the same way. You three will be surrounded, captured, and taken somewhere I control. Once that happens, there will be nothing you can say or do to save yourselves. Even when I have the ring in my possession, I will continue to torture your friends righ
t before your eyes until they succumb. And I promise, that breaking point will not come quickly. I swear it."
The man's words hung in the thick, humid spring air.
"You're quite the negotiator," Wagner said after hearing enough.
"I wondered when you might open your mouth, Bertrand."
Adriana's eyes darted around, a question in her head needing answers: Where was Bodmer?
"Your greed and quest for revenge are over, Lucien," Wagner hissed. "You think that ring will get you riches and glory. That's not what the ring is for."
"Oh, I know what it's for, old friend."
Tommy wondered how well the two knew each other, but now wasn't the time to question their backstory.
Wagner was too quick to continue anyway. "You think that if you trundle into Rome with it, you'll be able to command the Holy See. You believe it gives you the authority to take over the Vatican and, with it, the entire Christian world."
"It will. Of course, you will be able to witness it for yourself unless you do something foolish and I have to kill you."
"Kill me?" Wagner chuffed. "You can't kill me, old friend. You've tried before and failed."
More backstory. What happened between these two?
"That? I promise, if I was trying, you'd already be dead. No, your presence here was expected, and when you die it must have meaning, purpose."
"So you can root out all the wickedness in the world, starting with your own brethren."
"Your order forgot the oaths long ago, Bertrand. You betrayed us along with the now-extinct Templars. They got what they deserved. Now it's your turn, along with any others of your kind that managed to survive through the years."
Tommy watched the exchange with vested interest.
Adriana did, as well, though she spent more time watching the perimeter, making sure no one was trying to sneak up behind them.
"We are not like you or the Templars or the Hospitallers. We work for the church. We serve without greed or motive. The only fuel that drives us is seeking truth. Not some misguided selfish dream. Your order died long ago, Lucien. It's time you accept that."
The Napoleon Affair Page 31