Rogue Angel 49: The Devil's Chord

by Alex Archer

  Annja wasn’t at all worried that she was putting herself in a dangerous situation. Evan she could deal with. But if he was headed out of the hotel, she wanted to make sure that happened. He would lead her to what she wanted to know and possibly even Garin. So she threaded a plastic strip through the small slot of the other, then formed a loop and put it around her wrists.

  “I can break out of these at any time,” she warned as Evan tugged the ties tightly without setting down the gun.

  “I know. But you’ll play nice so you can learn the location of the music box, right?”

  He was not a stupid thief.

  With no reply necessary, Annja settled back in the chair and watched as Evan got out a laptop and spent the next half hour clacking away at the keys. Emailing contacts? Prospective bidders? Both notions were likely, given the fast responses he seemed to be getting only moments after he appeared to hit the send button.

  Was one of those responses from Garin, wanting to retrieve what he probably felt should have been his to start with?.

  Or could it be that Garin was unaware Evan had turned against him? The thugs had not been concerned with Evan at the bistro, which led her to believe Garin might be unaware of the dupe.

  That man would not be happy when he finally met the frustratingly indomitable Evan Merrick.

  Chapter 23

  Venice, 1502

  “Thief!”

  Roux stopped abruptly and cast his gaze about. There were but a few people lingering in the doorway to a linen shop, and down the way a cart wobbled, overstacked with hay. Boats floated by quietly on the canal.

  From behind the cart, Leonardo da Vinci rushed forward to accuse him again. “You have stolen something from me!”

  Roux scoffed at the man. He was embarrassed to have been caught out like this. “I’ve nothing that belongs to you.”

  “The sword piece. You were the only one I told.”

  “You’ve lost it? Pity.”

  “You dare to regard me as the fool?” Leonardo stepped up before him, preventing his exit. “But you didn’t take the real prize. That makes you the fool!”

  Da Vinci stormed off, cursing the heavens. Roux rubbed his bearded chin. He recalled but a few notebooks and the Lorraine cross in the safe kept in the graveyard. Also, there was that curious little box.

  Was it the box or the cross the painter considered his most prized possession? Well, he could have them both. A simple cross could not change Roux’s life.

  But the section of Joan of Arc’s sword? That was his future.

  * * *

  EVAN PARKED HIS rental car in the city center. Annja got out of the car herself. Her hands were tied in front of her. And really? She was tired of faking it. Besides, she’d gotten where Evan was going, so she was happy with the situation.

  Fisting her hands, she then brought her elbows forcefully down and toward her hips. The zip ties broke apart, freeing her hands with ease. The plastic strips dropped to the ground and she fell into step behind Evan, who had bolt cutters in hand.

  Given where they were parked, Annja couldn’t see much over the tall buildings surrounding the warehouse they seemed to be heading for. Though they had seen the Sforza palace upon approach. It was about half a mile to the north, she estimated. Walking distance for her. Had Evan pegged a possible location that Leonardo da Vinci had once lived?

  The majority of the buildings in this neighborhood were utilitarian, no historic monuments around here. Shops offered goods and services that were less touristy and more about the essentials, such as a market, a pharmacy and a type of hardware store, and she could smell the fertilizer wafting from a nearby greenhouse.

  It wasn’t as if they had the neighborhood to themselves. People were out and seemed occupied with their daily routine. Annja glanced around curiously. Could this be the spot where da Vinci’s studio once stood?

  Evan flashed her a look from over his shoulder, then frowned. “Really?”

  She held up her unbound hands. “You didn’t think I’d wear them like a bracelet you’d gifted to a lover?”

  “Kind of thought you would.” He flicked her that killer wink. No wonder his partner in crime had ditched him. “We have potential, Creed. Think about it.”

  “Don’t waste my time. What led you to think this is the site of Leonardo da Vinci’s former studio?”

  “The symbol drawn at the back of the notebook. It surrounded a diagram of the Sforza castle in the background.”

  He pointed over his shoulder. The towers of what had once been one of the biggest citadels in Europe were visible. The back of the castle arched out like a horseshoe, and they stood out from the arch. On the opposite side of the castle was the massive Parco Sempione. And somewhere, Annja knew, stood the Arch of Peace, built during Napoleonic rule. The emperor apparently had a thing for stone arches, she thought with a smirk.

  “It is a guess,” Evan offered. “But I think it’s a good one.”

  She eyed the bolt cutters. “Let me guess. You were not the safe cracker in your former duo?”

  “The woman had magic fingers.”

  “Don’t need the details.”

  “As I said before, I was the plotter and the logistics man. She did the delicate finessing and entry.”

  “Too much information. So, we’re breaking into this building? I have a problem with that. What is this place?”

  “An old glasswork factory. And we’re only cutting a loop in some chain link. Not officially breaking in. We’ll replace the chain on our way out. And if you think I’m wrong about this place, then take a look behind you.”

  Annja swung around. She recognized the dark hair and rugged face of Garin Braden in the driver’s seat of a black SUV. And stepping out of the passenger side and around the hood of the car?

  “Roux?”

  Chapter 24

  “You and Braden are playing on the same team now?” Annja asked as Roux and his cohort approached. “Interesting.”

  “Not half as interesting as seeing you with him,” Garin said and stabbed a finger at the grinning Evan Merrick. “Long time no see, Creed.”

  “Not long enough,” she replied. She angled a look at Roux. “Thought you two were on opposite sides of the coin with this one?”

  “The old man knows when he’s defeated,” Garin said, stepping toward the building. He was dressed in a business suit, expensive, and brushed Annja’s shoulder as he passed her. “We both want the same thing. And this one—” he gripped Evan by the throat “—has it.”

  Evan raised the hand with the bolt cutters. “The cross is in a safe place. You kill me, you lose any means to operate the device.”

  “You believe in time travel?” Garin asked the thief, who was trying his best not to shake. “Idiot.” Snatching the bolt cutters away, he shoved Evan, sending him stumbling to the ground.

  Propping the cutters over a shoulder, Garin turned to Annja. “You with us or against us?”

  “I prefer to remain the interested bystander. I’m not taking sides. I’m not even sure who’s on what side anymore. The artifacts must be—”

  Garin swept away her perceived trivial morality with a gesture of his hand. “All in good time, Creed. Roux? You think this is the place?”

  The Frenchman had been scanning the area with a hand to his brow to block the sun. He turned slowly, still assessing their location with an expertise Annja imagined had been fixed into his memory a very long time ago. She couldn’t imagine the city resembled what he’d once seen then.

  “It’s possible,” he finally said. “The castle was nearby. If memory serves, the distance seems correct. There was that little bread shop not far from Leonardo’s studio front.”

  “Oh, yeah.” Garin nodded, his smile growing. “I remember the wench selling sweet pastries out front—what was her name?”

  Annja rolled her eyes. The man hadn’t changed much in five hundred years. Garin Braden had been and apparently would always be a ladies’ man. As well, he’d mastered questionab
le liaisons with certain shady characters who could increase his fortunes. He was a billionaire now, so he had plied his trade well. He had friends in high places, as well as the darkest, lowest niches a person could imagine. But on occasion his hard heart did seem to soften and his conscience would win out. Briefly. Rarely enough that Annja knew not to trust him—ever. Except for when she absolutely needed to.

  Now was not that time. The only one who held the upper hand was Evan, who had the Lorraine cross and the notebook. To play the devil’s chord that would dance them back through time?

  “The wench?” Evan muttered. He looked to Roux and winked.

  Roux and Garin hadn’t been careful with their secret, which was no accident on their part, Annja knew. Now Annja held even less hope of Evan coming out of this alive.

  “Doesn’t matter,” she replied to Garin’s search for the wench’s name. “If we’re doing this, let’s get inside before someone starts being nosy.”

  Garin cut through the chain link and tested the steel door. It was locked, but a firm kick from his Italian loafers pushed the door inside. Out billowed a cloud of dust that he didn’t even flinch at as he stepped over the threshold and into the cool shadows.

  Evan hustled in after him. Roux gestured that Annja should go next.

  “So you dumped me for him, eh?” she asked Roux as she paused in the doorway.

  “I didn’t dump you, Annja. I’ve been dealing with...” He cleared his throat, obviously unwilling to complain about his gambling troubles. “Garin spotted me with those fools and offered to help get rid of them once and for all.”

  “Once and for all? What do you— Wait. Never mind. I don’t want to know.”

  Because she could guess it had to do with those thugs that had come after Roux about the gambling winnings. And “once and for all” could entail moving bodies to places where no one would ever find them.

  She stepped inside the building. “It’s still every man for himself, am I right?” she asked over her shoulder.

  “As it should be. Have you a flashlight?” Roux asked.

  “Always.”

  She dug out the small Maglite from a cargo-pants pocket and flashed it inside the big warehouse. It was about two stories high and all open space. Crumbling Sheetrock peeled away from the timber-framed walls. The concrete floors were coated with dust and stray two-by-fours. She couldn’t determine if someone had been trying to fix the place up or had been tearing it down for a DIY project. Either way, no one had been inside this building for months, possibly years.

  Her flashlight beamed across Garin’s broad back as he ran his palm over a wall. Searching for what? If he knew the place, would he know where Leonardo had once kept things? Hid them? Surely the building had been torn down and rebuilt many times since then.

  “This is the place,” Garin decided, rapping the wall with his knuckles. “Roux?”

  The elder man had crossed to the front of the building, where, from the inside, boards had been nailed across a single-frame entry. He scanned along the wall, stretching out his arms as if measuring history in his memory.

  “Likely.”

  “You think this is the original building?” Annja asked.

  “Many structures from the fourteenth and fifteenth century have survived the years, Annja,” Roux admonished. “They’ve been stripped to the original limestone walls and fixed up dozens of times surely, but the core remains the same.”

  “If this was Leonardo da Vinci’s studio,” Annja said as she strolled behind Evan, who searched high and low, “an inventory of his belongings was made after his death.”

  “Yes, but he died in France,” Roux corrected. “If he had left anything behind here, it would be...” He glanced across the floor.

  Garin had already begun pacing methodically, his tracks in the dust dragging a labyrinthine trail back and forth.

  “It’s not here,” Evan announced.

  Both Roux and Braden stopped abruptly and gave the thief their full attention. The tension was palpable. Annja had to remind herself to breathe. Why were they being so patient with Evan? Why not force him to produce the cross and be done with it? It wasn’t Garin’s style at all to play nice.

  “But it was worth a look, eh?” Evan’s expression said too much.

  Garin knew it and finally exhibited the quick strength Annja knew he was capable of. He lunged for Evan, pinning him against the closest wall. Evan croaked, but in his favor, he maintained silence and eye contact with his attacker.

  “You know where it is?” Garin asked.

  “I have my suspicions.”

  “How can you?” Roux asked.

  “He’s got the notebook,” Annja told them.

  Both Garin and Roux looked at her and said, “What?”

  “The notebook in which Leonardo da Vinci sketched the Lorraine cross and the music box,” she said. As well as Roux’s face, she thought. She wasn’t sure he should know about that. But there was no keeping it from him. He’d see it eventually. “I need to see the notebook again, Evan. Where is it?”

  “What are you talking about, Cree—” He blew out the last syllable in a huff as Garin’s fist met his gut. “Chill out, man. I’m on your side.”

  “You haven’t been on my side since you arrived in Milan,” Garin said. “You think you can find the thing on your own and sell it to the highest bidder?”

  Bent over to counteract the pain, Evan managed to squeak out, “That was the plan.”

  Garin gripped him by the hair and slammed his head back against the wall. Sheetrock dust billowed about them. Another slam.

  Roux crossed his arms, observing calmly.

  Annja frowned. Evan was the one with most of the pieces they needed to complete the puzzle. Did it make sense to abuse the guy this way?

  “Yes, yes, you’ve made your point,” she said as she stepped up beside Evan and put up an arm to block Garin’s next punch, aimed at Evan’s face. The impact of his fist into her palm was incredible, but she held firm and defied Garin with her most steadfast stare.

  “Annja, I’ll have the information we need in another few minutes. Step away.”

  She wedged herself between Garin and Evan. The thief hung his head on her shoulder, heavily. “He was staying at a hotel, but he’s packed up and left. Everything he has is in the car we arrived in.”

  Roux strode toward the door through which they’d entered.

  Garin growled—yes, actually growled—revealing the sneer she guessed he’d probably wielded in many a bloody medieval battle against the enemy. Right before he sliced off an opponent’s head.

  “Looks like you’re taking sides after all, Creed,” Garin muttered.

  “Really? Because if you ask me, your opponent has the drop on you right now.”

  With another angry growl, Garin shoved off from Evan and slipped away through the open doorway.

  Stumbling forward and resting his hands on his knees, Evan heaved in a few breaths. “Thanks, Annja. The next fist was going to end me for sure.” He moved his jaw, testing it. Standing upright, he turned and assumed a bit of the suave persona he seemed to like so much. “Does that mean you’re on my side?”

  She punched him in the gut, bringing him to his knees. “Never.”

  Chapter 25

  Milan, 1488

  Garin ordered two steins of beer. In appreciation, Leonardo slapped him across the back. The painter had seen him strolling through the street near his studio, looking over the sweet pastries offered from a baker next door, and had invited him into the tavern. So why was he paying for the drink?

  Didn’t matter. But the face in the notebook Leonardo da Vinci turned toward him right now did matter.

  “Do you know this man?” Leonardo asked.

  Garin made a show of looking over the simple sketch that captured Roux in exquisite detail yet with surprisingly few strokes. His pale hair, the few lines radiating out the corners of his eyes. Those eyes that were rarely kind, most often judging and usually set upon a tas
k.

  “Why?” Garin asked. “You must know him if you sketched him?”

  “I sketch many people. Most, I never learn their names.”

  “You’ve written his name right here.”

  “Yes. Roux. A Frenchman. He is a scourge.”

  Garin smirked. Got it on the first try.

  “No,” Garin finally replied. “I’ve never seen this man. But he seems to have gotten you steamed.”

  “He is a thief!” The painter pounded the table, upsetting the beer. He grabbed his stein and drank for a long time.

  “And what did he steal? Something of yours?”

  “Something I valued immensely. I know it was him.” Another fist to the table. “I showed it to him but days ago. How dare he? It has no value. It was but a shard of steel.”

  A shard of steel? Hmm, that sounded too familiar for Garin to merely brush it off. Roux had taken a bit of steel from the safe in the cemetery? So whatever else had been inside likely hadn’t the same value to Leonardo. He shouldn’t have allowed Roux to get away so easily. The more pieces he gathered...

  “One man’s treasure can be another man’s curiosity,” he said hastily. “I’m sorry about your loss. You had not locked it away?”

  “In a safe! In a very unusual place, even. A graveyard.”

  “Odd place to keep one’s treasures.”

  “But who would think to look among the bones and vultures, eh? He must have followed me. But oh, that he did not take the real treasure.”

  “The real treasure?” Maybe he had missed more than just the piece of sword.

  “Indeed.” Leonardo tilted back his beer and slammed the tankard on the table with grandiose flair. “There was another item in the safe that the wily old thief did not touch. It’s a project I’ve been working on. Something of great scientific importance.”

  “I’m not much for science,” Garin said, baiting the man. “Some sort of contraption for determining the position of the stars, I suppose?”

  “An astrolabe? No, that’s already been invented. I don’t design the common, Signore Braden. I create the future.”