Somehow that didn’t really comfort her.
* * *
Frellan got out of the SUV as his men swept the area around the church. One of the men put a hand on the only car parked in front of the chapel.
“Still warm.”
So Brandt was still here. An ambush on his mind? Funny, that was what Frellan had planned. Monnie joined him as Benedicto smoothed his robes. “Ah, how quaint,” he said as he studied the small church. Such an odd little man.
“It looks like all of the villagers are inside the church,” Ugudo reported. “No sign of Brandt and the others.”
Good. So much easier than rounding them up for questioning. It was looking more and more like Brandt had simply gone to ground, hoping to hide his way out of a confrontation. Clearly, the sergeant did not understand exactly how efficient Frellan was at teasing information out of people.
His man held open the door to the church. Frellan stepped inside. It took a few moments for his eyes to adjust from the stark sunshine outside to the murky light of the chapel. The men fanned out down the side aisles as Frellan walked up the main passage. He would have time to enjoy the villagers and their resistance.
For how many centuries had the residents of Lennore been lying to the Disciples? They had sworn they knew nothing of Borogoña’s work. Nothing of the Black Madonnas lost to history. Nothing of the blessed child to come.
Liars.
They would be his finest works of art.
One of his men’s faces twisted into a scowl. Frellan picked up his pace, arriving to the first set of pews. He grabbed the woman by the shoulder and turned her to him.
Blood splattered across his shoes as it gushed from her neck. The woman’s body knocked into the man next to her, sending him reeling into the next and then the next.
“They’re all…” Monnie stated, her hand to her mouth.
Benedicto had a bit more fortitude and checked the next row. “Yes, I believe they all committed suicide.”
“Rather than give up Brandt’s location.” Frellan had underestimated those of Lennore. They would rather die than see the Messiah in his hands. Frellan turned to Ugudo. “Search every millimeter of this village. Find them.”
“Don’t bother,” Benedicto stated, waving the men toward the car.
“You have no—”
The priest waved him off. “I know. I am not in charge. I have no authority. I am not the boss of you.” Frellan could feel his cheeks flush as Benedicto continued. “However, I think I might know where they headed.”
Frellan’s eyes narrowed. The man was insufferable. However, Frellan did not have time to be choosy regarding his source of information. They were so close on Brandt’s heels. They could not fall farther behind.
“And how would you know such a thing?” Monnie asked.
“Oh, I have a little birdie.” Benedicto shrugged. “We’re hitting the road, then?”
After only a moment of introspection, Frellan turned to Ugudo. “Do a quick sweep of the area. If nothing turns up, we will follow the priest’s direction.”
Benedicto took in a deep breath, patting his expanded girth. “I really should get out of the abbey more often.”
* * *
Brandt crested the ridge, joining Levont. The guy had set a hell of a pace, but they’d made it. Well, most of them.
“That was a workout,” the point man said, stretching out his calves. No shit.
Brandt shifted Vakasa on his back and gave Rebecca a hand. Davidson had to help Talli up the last section. Through the break in the trees, they could look down upon the outskirts of the town, Cuellar.
“Well, at least the priest wasn’t exaggerating,” Rebecca said as she pointed to a small church at the foot of the hill.
When the man had said, “You’ll know the place,” Brandt had had his doubts. Spain was riddled with old churches and chapels. You couldn’t throw a baseball without hitting one. However, it turned out this one truly was unique. And not necessarily in a good way.
This church had flying buttresses, except they were attached to the first-floor walls and the ground. Brandt wasn’t quite sure what a mildly rounded ground-level wall needed huge flying buttresses for, but hey, it made the El Salvador church easy to find.
“Notice anything weird?” Davidson asked as he pulled the rifle scope from his eye.
“Besides one well-secured church wall?”
“The people—or lack thereof.”
Levont lowered his binoculars. “He’s right. There’s no one around.”
Brandt took the binoculars and surveyed the streets. There weren’t people, cars, children, trucks. Not even a dog. He passed the binoculars to Rebecca.
“Any idea what’s going on?”
She shook her head. “Maybe it’s a Spain-specific holiday?”
Whatever it was, Brandt didn’t like it. He liked normal. He liked routine. This was anything but. However, they couldn’t stand here with their knees knocking together. They needed to get on with it.
“Just keep an eye out,” Brandt warned Levont as he moved them down the hill. This side was decidedly easier on the calves as they made their way to the town. He set Vakasa down but grabbed her by the back of the shirt as she went to run ahead to Levont.
Despite the down-turned lips when Rebecca held out her palm, Vakasa took it, swinging their locked hands up and down.
As they approached the tree line, Levont stopped and checked out the area again. “Still clear. Way clear.”
Great. Somehow they had stumbled into a ghost town.
“Lopez, find us a car.”
Unlike his usual bravado, Lopez hesitated, glancing up and down the empty street. “Yeah, um…This could take a while.”
“Just do it,” Brandt ordered. “Davidson, find a perch.”
“Will do,” Davidson said as he headed up a tree. Guess he was going native, finding an actual perch.
“Levont, take us in,” Brandt ordered, gripping his gun tight.
* * *
“There it is again!” Stark announced, pointing on the map to where the last high-frequency burst had originated.
“Cuellar,” Prenner read aloud. “What are they doing in Cuellar?”
“Hell if I know,” Bunny breathed out. Even with Stark hacking into the Stanford University database, they really didn’t have much more information regarding Rebecca’s stay in the Basque region. She was all about the blood samples and the genealogies. Not so big on giving details of where she had stayed or sites she had visited.
And now Cuellar? That didn’t even show up on her spreadsheet.
Worse, the Disciples were being tipped off by…Bunny couldn’t bring herself to say it. They were being tipped off by someone inside their team. Did Brandt suspect? Did they know that a traitor walked amongst them? Or was perched above them?
“We’ve got to mobilize the local police or something,” Bunny suggested. It might get them all arrested, but at this point, it was probably better than the alternative. They could sort out the mess later.
“That’s weird,” Emily said, hanging up a call, then redialing. Bunny could hear the phone ring through without being answered. “No one at the Cuellar police station is picking up.”
Bunny looked to the Google map that showed only static streets and points of interest. What in the hell was going on in Cuellar?
* * *
Rebecca kept tight hold of Vakasa’s hand as they crossed the street. It really was eerie. There wasn’t a soul to be found.
“Ouch,” the little girl complained. Perhaps Rebecca had been holding on a bit too tight. She loosened her grip, only slightly, as they approached the church. The flying buttresses were unusual enough in such a small church. At ground level? They were rare. Abutting a mudejar aspe? Downright unique. Instead of just a semicircular stone wall, this church’s nave was covered in brick in such a way that it appeared the wall had many windows. It was only an illusion, though. The wall was solid brick.
Such an odd fusion of Islamic and C
hristian architecture. But that was Spain for you. So many cultures had come through the region, even as far as the Basque region, and each had left its mark on the culture and the architecture.
Levont disappeared around the curved wall, only to return within seconds. “The church looks clear.”
Swiftly, they entered the shelter of the church. Even though it didn’t seem like there were any prying eyes on the street, with the Disciples, you just never knew. Inside, they found the church empty. It clearly no longer served worshippers and was maintained as a museum. Which was fine by Rebecca. Less furniture to move.
“Where do you think the cross is hidden?” Brandt asked after Levont swept the area.
“I am guessing it will be in the rectory, similar to the monastery and—”
Before Rebecca could finish her sentence, the little girl slipped her grasp and was off, running through the doorway, ducking under Levont’s attempt to grab her.
“No!” Rebecca yelled after her, but the kid didn’t even swivel her head as she streaked down the long hallway. They were all on her heels as she entered the rectory. Vakasa stopped abruptly, kneeling down onto the wooden floor. She patted a plank.
Brandt looked to Rebecca. “As good a place as any to start.”
Talli knelt down beside Vakasa and began tugging on the boards. Brandt leaned over to Rebecca. “We are going to have to get that kid a leash.”
She nudged him with her elbow but regretted the motion as he flinched. It was so easy to try to put the trauma of the last few days behind them. Unfortunately, their flesh wasn’t quite as over it.
* * *
Still nursing a rib, Brandt watched as Talli struggled with the floorboard. Seriously? When they got home, the guy was going on protein powder for his muscles and vitamin A for his aim.
“Talli,” he finally said, “you keep Vakasa back.” As the supposed sniper urged the little girl away from the board, Brandt knelt to the floor. He would have landed on his good knee, except he really didn’t have a good knee at this point.
Brandt flipped open his service knife and used it to pry away at the seam between the boards. It took a little bit of leverage, but the wood plank popped up, revealing a dirt-lined space. And there glistened a silver cross.
Just as Brandt’s fingers closed around the crucifix, the sound of clapping filled the room.
“Jolly good show, mate.”
Brandt tossed the cross to Rebecca as he drew his sidearm, leveling it at the intruder. He knew who it was before the sandy-haired man entered the room.
“Vanderwalt, you do not want any part of this.”
The MI-5 agent walked in as casually as if he were joining Brandt at a pub. “Ah, but you see, I’ve been waiting for this for quite some while. I just need the girl and the artifacts, including the latest cross.”
Brandt didn’t even have time to figure out how Vanderwalt had found them or what his angle was here. He just needed to get into a better shooting position.
“Chap, don’t bother,” Walt said, indicating to the three thugs that lined up behind him in the hallway. “I brought company. Now, hand over the girl and the items, and we will be on our way.”
“Her name is Vakasa,” Rebecca stated beside Brandt, hands shaking as tears glistened in her eyes.
“Ah, the always lovely Dr. Monroe. Do not worry. I plan to take good care of her.”
“Once she suits your purpose?” Brandt asked, pretty much knowing the answer.
Walt shrugged. “Promotions are hard to come by these days.”
“You fucking…” Brandt didn’t waste his breath. The guy had been as close to a friend as a covert operative could have outside his unit. To think that eating grubs together wouldn’t bond you for life. At least not when career trajectories got in the way. He should have known something was up when Vanderwalt showed up personally in Egypt. A little too-white-gloved service, even for MI-5.
A ping sounded from behind him.
Vanderwalt drew his weapon. “What are you playing at?”
Was that Davidson? Then another ping and a piece of brick flew across the room. A bullet chased after it, nearly catching Talli in the ear. The man danced away, lowering himself and the girl to the floor.
Not Davidson, then.
“That is not us,” Brandt answered, ducking down.
No, it was the Disciples. More accurately, the Disciples’ sniper.
Walt smiled that crooked—actually crooked—smile of his. “As a kicker, I have a way out of here that avoids the sniper.” As another bullet whizzed into the room, shattering against the far wall. “I will allow you to follow us, but only if you give us the girl and the artifacts. Your call.”
Brandt was so busy calculating the odds of him being able to get to all three of Vanderwalt’s thugs before he got taken down that he had nearly missed the part where Rebecca tossed the two crosses to Walt, along with the Star of David. Walt frowned. “And the pieces of map.”
Rebecca complied. The die was cast. Brandt couldn’t do anything to stop her. What was her plan? She had one, right? She had to have one. One that was better than a shoot-out in an enclosed stone church.
“The girl,” Walt said, his hand out.
Talli, though, wouldn’t let go of the girl. “Talli…” Brandt warned. “Give her over.”
“No,” the man said, shaking his head vigorously.
Great. Perfect time for Talli to get all brave.
“I’m done,” the sniper said, still ducked down under the window.
“Just give me the girl,” Walt warned.
But Talli just kept shaking his head. “I want out.”
What the hell was he talking about? “Out of what?” Brandt asked.
Surprisingly, Talli turned to Walt. “I want out.” Talli pointed to Brandt and Rebecca. “They are insane. You said you would pull me whenever I asked.”
“Pull you?” Brandt growled, a bitter realization growing. One he didn’t want to admit, but one that made a whole lot of sense. “Talli, you fucking traitor.”
Walt sighed. “If it is any consolation, that is not Talli.”
Brandt nearly got clipped by a bullet as he just stood there. Rebecca tugged Brandt back, jarring him out of his shock.
“Then who the fuck is he?” Brandt demanded.
“It is a long story, chap, told over a warm beer.”
“Try me, now,” Brandt said, clutching his gun as the Disciples’ bullets began chipping away at another window. Damn, how he wanted to take Talli down right about now. Consequences be damned. You would think after being betrayed so often it would take the sting out of it. Think again.
Walt sighed. “Ibel here was SRR on a joint mission with Talli’s unit in Dakuh.”
“SRR?” Brandt repeated. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. They are surveillance personnel. You sent me out into the field with a fake sniper?”
“Honestly, chap, I didn’t mean to. Ibel was just there. Talli and the rest were killed. Talli had no family.” The Brit sounded almost remorseful. Almost. “We had the perfect opportunity to insert one of ours into the American Special Forces. You would have done the same.”
Brandt snorted. “Send you out without perimeter support? Have you fucking lost your mind?” And here he thought he knew Vanderwalt.
“Now, wait,” Walt retorted. “We were going to have him fake an injury to get him off sniper duty, but you requested him.”
“Because he was graded an A-one sniper, you jackass.”
“Yes, well…” Walt conceded. “That was unfortunate.”
All of the various scenarios played out in Brandt’s mind. How fucking frequently Talli’s lack of skills had endangered their lives. Rebecca’s life. Vakasa’s life. Walt had played Russian roulette with them all.
“But now we must be off,” Vanderwalt announced, waving Talli and Vakasa over to him. “My men will have shoot-on-sight orders, so give us a two minute head start. Then you can blend in with the crowd.”
What crowd?
Before Brandt could ask, Levont chimed in. “But wait. I don’t get it.” The beefy point man turned to Talli. “Why do you want to leave the team?”
“Levont…”
“What? I mean, really, why?”
Walt waved the question away and ushered Talli and Vakasa down the hallway. Rebecca took a step forward. Brandt grabbed her by the wrist, but it turned out he didn’t need to.
“Vakasa,” she said, “we are right behind you.”
The girl smiled, holding Talli’s hand. “Ta-ta.”
She then skipped on after Vanderwalt, heedless of the danger she was in.
This was going to be the longest 120 seconds of his fucking life.
* * *
Rebecca ducked her head as the sniper punched through another window. He peppered the wall with shots. Although, none seemed necessarily aimed at them. Weird.
“One hundred fifteen,” Levont counted down.
You could tell each second was eating at the point man. He itched to move out. But not more than Brandt. He wouldn’t look at her. Wouldn’t hold her hand. Wouldn’t talk about it. He’d gone full-on caveman mode. There was his job, and then there was “making things right.” She didn’t care about any of that. She only cared about that little girl she’d made a promise to.
“One hundred twenty,” Levont announced as he burst through the door and headed down the hallway Vanderwalt had taken. Three of the team, now down from five. It didn’t feel right, yet they rapidly found what must have been a storage room. A trapdoor was propped open. At the least, Vanderwalt hadn’t been lying about that.
Levont shone his light down the rickety staircase. “Looks a little sketchy.”
Rebecca shook her head, urging him down. “It was built during World War Two,” she explained, but Brandt still frowned. “While Spain was essentially neutral, it became a massive underground for Jews escaping from Eastern Europe.” When neither man seemed to get it, she continued. “And while the Vatican was also supposedly neutral, Catholic churches were a major sanctuary and transfer stations. Now, can we go?”
Brandt gave the nod, and Levont headed down. “Clear, at least as far as I can see.”
Rebecca hurried down the rickety stairs, with Brandt on her heels. The tunnel stretched out into the distance. Levont started at a quick walk, then picked it up to a trot. Rebecca breathed in the stale air through her nose and out through her mouth. It seemed like they were running into oblivion, as the tunnel just kept stretching out farther and farther away from the church. Exactly how far was the exit? Then as light could be seen farther down, Levont kicked them up into an all-out run, only slowing as they reached a door, cracked open an inch.
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