The Last Templar ts-1

by Raymond Khoury

  Sitting there, paralyzed with fear, she looked at her hands. They were trembling, and her breath was coming short and fast. She struggled to compose herself. She had to be calm about this. Come on, Tess. Keep it together. If she could just manage that, maybe, just maybe, she and Vance could each get what they wanted.

  She got out of die car and suddenly regretted her decision not to tell Reilly about what had 86

  happened. She would have still been able to come here, while he set up . . . what? A SWAT team, men with guns and megaphones all around the house, bellowing "Come out with your hands up."

  Hours of fraught hostage negotiations before the inevitable and highly risky—however minutely planned—assault? Her imagination was getting die better of her. She tried to stay focused on the reality around her. No, maybe her choice had been the right one after all.

  In any case, it was too late now.

  She was here.

  Walking up to the door, she suddenly hesitated. She could imagine what had happened here. Vance would have rung the bell, spoken with

  Eileen. A few words about Oliver Chaykin, about Tess, and Eileen would have been completely disarmed and probably charmed too.

  If only she had told Reilly.

  Sliding her key into the lock, she opened the door and walked into the living room. The scene that greeted her was surreal. Vance was there, sitting with her mother on the sofa, chatting amiably, sipping a cup of tea. Tess could hear music coming from Kim's room. Her daughter was upstairs.

  Eileen's mouth dropped when she saw the disheveled state her daughter was in. She jumped out of her seat. "Oh my God, Tess, what happened to you?"

  "Are you all right?" Vance stood up, sounding genuinely surprised.

  He has the nerve to ask that. Tess stared at him, doing her utmost to keep her rage, which had by now overwhelmed any feelings of fear that she had, under control.

  "I'm fine." She managed to find a smile. "There was a leak in the street outside the office and this truck drove straight through the puddle just as I was standing there, and, well . . . You don't want to know."

  Eileen took hold of her daughter's arm. "You've got to get changed, dear, you'll catch cold." She turned to Vance. "You'll excuse us, won't you, Bill?"

  Tess stared at Vance. He was just standing there, radiating warmth and concern.

  "Actually, I'm afraid I really should be going." His eyes bored into Tess's. "If you want to give me those papers, I'll be on my way. Besides, I'm sure the last thing you want is a guest in the house right now."

  Tess stood there, glaring at him. The silence was deafening. Eileen looked at Vance, then at Tess, who could tell her mother was clearly sensing something uncomfortable in the room. She quickly snapped out of it and smiled at Vance.

  "Of course. I have them right here." She reached into her bag and pulled out the manuscripts. She handed them to him. He reached out to take them, and, for a few seconds, they were both holding on to them.

  "Thanks. I'll get to work on them as soon as I can."

  Tess forced another smile. "That would be great."

  Vance turned to Eileen. He took her hand and cupped it in his. "It's been a pleasure."

  Eileen relaxed and blushed, her face beaming from the compliment. Tess felt hugely relieved that Eileen was spared the truth of who Vance really was. For now, at least. She turned back to Vance. She couldn't read his look. He was studying her.

  "I should be going." He nodded at Tess. "Thanks again."

  "Don't mention it."

  He stopped at the door and turned to Tess.

  "I'll see you soon." And with that, he walked out the door.

  Tess left Eileen and stood at the door, watching him drive off. Eileen joined her.

  "He's such a nice man. Why didn't you tell me you knew him? He told me he's worked with Oliver."

  "Come on, Mom," Tess said in a low voice, as she quietly shut the door.

  Her hands were still shaking.

  Chapter 41

  In the long mirror in her bathroom, Tess finally saw herself. She'd never been as dirty, bedraggled, or pale. Even though tremors of tension still pulsed through her legs, she resisted the urge to sit down. After all that had happened today, if she did sit down, she knew she probably wouldn't be able to get up again for a while. She also knew the day wasn't over yet. Reilly was on his way. He had called shortly after Vance had left and he was now rushing over. Even though he sounded reasonably calm, she knew he was furious with her. She would have some serious explaining to do.

  Again.

  Only this time would be a bit more difficult. She would have to tell Reilly why she didn't trust in him enough to ask for his help.

  She stared at the stranger in the mirror. The confident, lively blonde was gone. In her place was a wreck, both physically and mentally. Self-doubt was besieging her mind. She thought back to the day's events, questioning her every move and kicking herself for putting her mother and daughter in danger.

  It's not a game, Tess. You've got to stop doing this. You've got to stop now.

  As she got undressed, she felt the onset of tears. She had resisted it when she went to hug Kim after Vance had left. She had resisted die nervous tears of laughter when Kim had pushed her back, saying "Ew, Mom, you stink. You need a shower big time." She resisted it on the phone with Reilly, all the while making sure her mom and Kim didn't overhear her conversation with him. Thinking about it, she couldn't remember the last time she had cried, but right now, she couldn't help it. She felt awful, shivering as much from the fear as from the "what if worst-case scenarios she was imagining.

  Apart from sluicing off the dirt and the smell, she used the time in the shower to make some decisions. Among them was that she owed Kim and Eileen something else.

  Safety.

  An idea came to her.

  Wearing only a bathrobe and with her hair still dripping, Tess found Eileen in the kitchen. "I've been thinking about our plans to stay with Aunt Hazel this summer," Tess said without preamble.

  Hazel was her mother's sister. She lived on a small ranch just outside Prescott, Arizona, alone except for a few dozen assorted animals.

  "What about it?"

  Tess pressed on without missing a beat. "I think we should go there now, for Easter."

  "Why on earth ..." Her mother broke off, then said, "Tess, what aren't you telling me?"

  "Nothing," Tess lied, flashing back to the other man who had come looking for Vance in the cellar, the gunshot, and his anguished cry.

  "But—"

  Again, Tess interrupted her mother. "We all need a break. Look, I'll come too, okay? It'll take me a few days to clear my calendar and arrange it with the office. But I want you and Kim to go tomorrow."

  "Tomorrow?"

  "Why not? You've been dying to go, and Kim can just start her Easter vacation a few days early. I'll book some flights, be easier this way, we'll miss the Easter rush," Tess insisted.

  "Tess." Her mother's tone was angry and firm. "What's this all about?"

  Tess smiled nervously at her mother's annoyance. She would apologize later. "It's important, Mom," she said quietly.

  Eileen studied her. She had always been able to read her daughter, and today was no exception. "What's going on? Are you in danger? I want an honest answer, now. Are you?"

  She couldn't lie about this. "I don't think so. What I do know is that in Arizona," she said evasively, "there'll be absolutely nothing to worry about."

  Her mother frowned. It obviously wasn't the answer she was hoping for. "Well then come with us tomorrow."

  "I can't." Her look and her tone left no room for argument.

  Eileen breathed in deep, studying her. "Tess—"

  "I can't, Mom."

  Eileen nodded unhappily. "But you'll follow us there. You promise."

  "I promise. I'll be with you in a couple of days."

  All at once, she felt an overflowing sense of relief.

  Then the doorbell rang.

  **
*

  "You should have told me, Tess. You should have told me." Reilly was livid. "We could have picked him up after he'd left the house, we could have put a tail on him, there's a number of ways we could have handled this." He shook his head. "We could have had him and put an end to this tiling."

  They talked in her backyard, away from her mom and from Kim. She had asked him to be discreet and not show up with guns blazing, assuring him that they were all safe. With Aparo keeping an eye out front and waiting for the local PD squad car to show up, Reilly had quickly ascertained that the situation was, as she had said, under control and that the danger had indeed passed.

  She was wearing a white toweling bathrobe, her long hair darker from being wet, her legs bare beneath the robe. Sitting under a large mallow tree, and despite the frustration and anger she could see she had caused in Reilly, she felt oddly calm. His presence had a lot to do with it. Twice in the same day, she had felt threatened in a way she had never experienced before, and twice he had been there for her.

  She glanced away, collecting her thoughts, letting his own turmoil settle a bit, before glancing up at him. "I'm sorry, I really am ... I just didn't know what else to do. I guess I wasn't thinking straight. I had all these visions of SWAT teams and hostage negotiators and ..."

  "—and you panicked. I understand that; it's perfectly normal. I mean, the guy was threatening your daughter, your mom, but still ..." He breathed out in frustration, shaking his head again.

  "I know. You're right. I'm sorry."

  He looked at her.

  He hated the fact that she'd been in danger, hated that her daughter had been too. And he also knew he couldn't blame her. She wasn't an FBI agent; she was an archaeologist and a mother. He couldn't expect her to think the same way he did, to respond to such an extreme situation coldly and rationally. Not when her daughter was concerned. Not after the day she'd had.

  After a long moment, he spoke. "Look, you did what you thought was best for your family, and no one can blame you for that. I would have probably done the same thing. The main thing is you're all safe. That's all that really matters."

  Tess's face brightened. She nodded, somewhat guiltily, flashing back to Vance, standing there in her living room. "Still ... I gave him back his papers."

  "We still have the copies," Reilly reminded her, before adding, "The boys in the darkroom are working overtime as we speak."

  She managed a reluctant smile. Reilly returned it along with a small nod, then glanced at his watch.

  "I'll get out of your hair; I'm sure you want to get some rest. I'll have a squad car keep an eye on the house. And make sure you lock up after I leave."

  "I'll be fine." She was suddenly aware of how vulnerable she was. How vulnerable they all were. "I don't have anything else he needs."

  "You sure about that?" He was only half joking.

  "Scout's honor."

  There it was again. He really knew how to make her relax.

  "Okay. If you're up to it," he said, "I'd really like you to come downtown in the morning. I think it would be really useful to go over everything again in detail with the rest of the team, get all our ducks in a row."

  "Not a problem. Just let me get Mom and Kim on a plane first."

  "Good. I'll see you tomorrow."

  Her eyes met his. "Yeah." She got up to walk him back to the house.

  He had taken a few steps when he stopped and turned to her. "You know, there's one thing I didn't get a chance to ask you back in the city."

  "What's that?"

  "Why'd you take them?" He paused. "The documents. I mean, you must have been desperate to get out of there . . . and yet you put that thought on hold long enough to grab the papers."

  She wasn't sure what had gone on in her mind. It all seemed a blur. "I don't know," she managed.

  "They were just lying there."

  "I know, but still... I guess I'm just surprised, that's all. I would have thought the only thing on your mind would have been to get the hell out of there as fast as possible."

  Tess glanced away. She knew what he was getting at.

  "Are you gonna be able to let go of this thing," he insisted, "or am I gonna have to lock you up for your own safety?" He was dead serious. "How important is this for you, Tess?"

  She half smiled. "This thing, it's . . . there's something about it. That manuscript, its whole history ...

  I feel I need to be there, I need to find out what it's all really about. You've got to understand something," she pressed, "archaeology, it's . . . it's not the most generous of careers. Not everybody gets a Tutankhamen or a Troy. Fourteen years I was out there, digging and shoveling in the most godforsaken, mosquito-infested corners of this planet, and all the time I kept hoping that I'd get a shot at something like this, not just obscure little pieces of pottery or a partially preserved mosaic, but something big, you know? It's every archaeologist's dream. The real deal, one for the history books, something I could take Kim to see at the Met one day and point to proudly and say, T

  discovered that.' " She paused, watching for his reaction. "This must be more than just a routine case for you too, isn't it?"

  He took in what she said before lightening up. "Nah, we get wackos on horses trashing museums every week. That's what I hate about this job. The routine. It's a killer." His face turned serious again. "Tess, you keep forgetting something here. This isn't just some academic challenge, it's not just about die manuscript and what it means . . . it's a murder investigation where a lot of people have died."

  "I know."

  "Let's get them behind bars first. Then you can figure out what they were after. Come in tomorrow.

  Walk us through what you know, then let us get on with it. If we need help, you'll be the first to know. And, I don't know, if you want some kind of exclusive deal should anything—"

  "No, it's not like that. It's just. . ." She realized that nothing she said would make him change his mind.

  "You're gonna have to let go of it, Tess. Please. I need you to let go of it."

  She was moved by the way he said it.

  "Will you do that?" he continued. "It's really not a game I want you playing at right now."

  "I'll try." She nodded.

  He studied her, then let out a small chorde and shook his head.

  They both knew she had no choice in the matter.

  She was into it hook, line, and sinker.

  Chapter 42

  Shifting in his chair in the stark, glass-fronted conference room at Federal Plaza, De Angelis studied Tess Chaykin carefully. A very smart lady, he thought. That much was obvious. Of more concern was that it appeared she was also fearless. It was an intriguing yet potentially dangerous combination. But played correctly, it could also prove to be very useful. She seemed to know which questions to ask and what leads to follow.

  Glancing at the others around the table, De Angelis listened to her account of her abduction and her subsequent escape. Discreetly, he gently massaged the place where Vance's bullet had grazed his leg. It stung with a burning twinge, especially when he walked, but the painkillers he was taking dampened the sensation to a point where he hoped any hint of a limp wouldn't be noticeable.

  Her words made him flash back to the confrontation with Vance in the darkened crypt. He felt an anger swell inside him. He chided himself for the way he had allowed Vance to slip away. A feeble, tortured history professor, at that. Inexcusable. He wouldn't let it happen again. Thinking about it, it occurred to him that, had he succeeded against Vance, he might have had to deal with her too, which would have been messy. He

  had nothing against her, at least not yet. Not as long as her motives didn't prove antagonistic to his mission.

  He needed to understand her better. Why is she doing this? What is she really after, he wondered.

  He would have to look into her background and, more important, her position concerning certain issues of paramount importance.

  As she finished her story, De Angelis not
ed something else too. It was the way that Reilly was looking at her. There was something there, he mused. Interesting. The agent clearly saw her as something more than an aid to the investigation. Not surprising on Reilly's part, but was it reciprocated?

  He definitely needed to keep a close eye on her.

  ***

  When Tess was done, Reilly stepped in, calling up an image of the ruins of the church from his laptop. It popped up on the large flat panel facing the conference table. "That's where he was holding you," he told her. "The Church of the Ascension."

  Tess looked surprised. "It's burned down."

  "Yeah, they're still working on raising the funds to rebuild it."

  "The smell, the dampness ... it definitely fits, but . . ." She seemed thrown. "He was living in the cellar of a burned-down church." She paused, trying to correlate the picture in front of her with her recollection of Vance and what he had said. She looked at Reilly. "But he hated the Church."

  "This wasn't just any church. It burned down five years ago. Arson investigators didn't find anything suspicious at the time, even though the parish priest died in the blaze."

  She thought back, conjuring up the name of the priest Vance had mentioned. "Father McKay?"

  "Yes."

  Reilly looked at her. It was obvious they'd reached the same conclusion.

  "The priest Vance blamed for the death of his wife." Her imagination was galloping ahead now, and the images it was kicking up were horrific ones.

  "And the dates match. The fire happened three weeks after he buried her." He turned to Jansson.

  "We're going to have to get that case reopened."

  Jansson nodded. Reilly turned to Tess, who seemed lost in thought.

  "What is it?"

  "I don't know," she said, as if emerging from a fog. "It's just difficult thinking about him in such contradictory terms. He's this charming, erudite professor on the one hand, and then the polar opposite, someone who's capable of such violence ..."

  Aparo stepped in. "Unfortunately, it's not uncommon. It's like the quiet, friendly neighbor with body parts in his freezer. They're usually much more dangerous than the guys busting up bars every night."