Interrupting the family reunion, Seichan slammed the trunk closed. She didn’t want anyone passing by to note what was happening. Neither did Claude, who raised no objections to her abrupt gesture. He dared not attempt to free his bound son from the trunk in such a public space.
“As you can see, Gabriel is fine,” she said, and held up the sedan’s electronic fob. “And here is the key to his freedom.”
Claude reached for it—but she pulled her hand away.
Not so fast.
She tugged down her jacket’s collar and exposed the steel one beneath it.
“What about this?” She also nodded over to Renny, who still had his scarf in place. “An exchange of keys. Your son’s freedom for ours.”
“Oui. That was the deal. I am a man of my word.” He reached into a pocket and removed a hotel key card. He placed it on the top of the trunk. “Inside your hotel room, you will find what you need to free yourselves.”
He must have read the suspicion on her face and smiled sadly.
“Fear not. Your deaths will not serve me. In fact, I plan to pin Vennard’s loss upon your traitorous shoulders. With the Guild hunting you, no suspicions will be cast my way. And the faster you run, ma chére amie, the better it is for all of us. But, as an additional sign of good faith, I believe I promised you a reward.”
He swung the briefcase onto the trunk and ran a hand over the rich leather surface. “Vuitton’s finest. The Président Classeur case. It is yours to keep.” He smiled over at her with amusement and French pride. “But I suspect what is inside is the true price for my son’s freedom. A clue to the shadowy leaders of the Guild.”
He snapped open the case to reveal a stack of files. On the top folder, imprinted onto the cover, was the image of an eagle with outstretched wings, holding an olive branch in one talon and a bundle of arrows in the other. It was the Great Seal of the United States.
But what does this have to do with the Guild?
He snapped the briefcase closed and slid it toward her.
“What you do with this information—where it will lead—will be very dangerous territory to tread,” he warned. “It might serve you better to simply walk away.”
Not a chance.
She took the case and the hotel key card. With the prizes in hand, she placed the sedan’s fob on the trunk and backed to the curb, well out of the reach of Claude’s guards.
The historian didn’t make a move to take the sedan’s key. Instead, he placed a palm tenderly on the trunk’s lid. His eyes closed in relief as the tension drained from his shoulders. He was no longer a Guild associate, merely a father relieved at the safe return of his prodigal son. Claude took a long breath, then motioned for one of his men to retrieve the key and take the wheel. As his guards climbed into the front seats, Claude ducked into the back, perhaps to be that much closer to his son.
Seichan waited for the sedan to pull away from the curb and head down the street.
As the car vanished out of the square, Renny crossed over to join her. “Did ye get what ye wanted?”
She nodded, picturing the relief Claude must be feeling. For the sake of his son, the historian couldn’t risk that she might have searched the papers first. They had to be authentic.
“Do ye think he can be trusted?” Renny asked, reaching to his scarf.
“That remains to be seen.”
As they both stared across the plaza, Renny took off his cashmere neckpiece and revealed a close-guarded secret, a secret that Seichan had kept from Claude.
Renny’s throat was bare.
He rubbed at the red burn from his earlier shock. “It was good to get that bloody thing off.”
Seichan agreed. She reached to her throat and unsnapped her own collar. She stared down at the green LED light. After Vennard’s death, she’d found herself with an extra hour before the noon deadline. Taking advantage of the additional time in the catacombs, Seichan had reached out to Renny’s network of resources. He’d claimed that his fellow cataphiles came from all around the world and from every walk of life.
Upon her instructions, Renny had sent out a clarion call for help. One of the cataphile brothers responded, an expert in electrical engineering and microdesign. He was able to get the collars off and removed the shocking mechanism from Seichan’s. This was all done underground, where Claude was unlikely to be able to receive any warning signals from the collars.
Once free, Seichan risked making a play for the briefcase.
As she stared at her collar now, Renny’s early question played in her head: Could Claude still be trusted?
The answer came a moment later.
The green light on her collar flashed to red as it received a transmitted signal, but with the shocking mechanism neutralized, there was no danger.
At least, not for her.
Distantly, a tremendous blast echoed across the city. She searched in the direction of the departed sedan and watched an oily tendril of smoke curl into the bright blue sky.
In the end, it seemed that Claude could not be trusted. Apparently, despite his claims otherwise, it was too dangerous to let her live, and he had transmitted the kill order to the collars.
A bad move.
She had given Claude the chance to do the right thing.
He hadn’t taken it.
She pictured the scarf securing Gabriel’s ball gag. Hidden beneath the cashmere and snapped snugly around the young man’s mouth and head was Renny’s missing electronic collar. The ball gag was formed out of a molded wad of C4, retrieved from one of the explosive charges in the catacombs. The collar had been wired into a detonator. If and when the electronic collar was jolted, it would set off the C4. She had calculated the quantity and shaped the explosive to take out the sedan and its occupants with little collateral damage.
She sighed, feeling a twinge of regret.
It was a nice car.
Renny gaped at the smoke signal in the sky, stunned, one hand clutching his throat. He finally tore his eyes away and faced her. “What now?”
She dumped the collar into a curbside trash bin and hefted up the briefcase. She remembered Claude Beaupré’s last words to her. What you do with this information—where it will lead—will be very dangerous territory to tread.
As she turned away, she answered Renny’s question.
What now?
“Now comes the hard part.”