Kat returned to Vigor. She checked her watch.
“The Court knows where we are,” Vigor said, also assessing the situation.
Kat saw no reason to acknowledge the obvious. She freed her own cell phone. Commander Pierce needed to know. She dialed the number he had left, but she failed to pick up a signal. She tried closer to the window. No luck.
The storm had knocked out reception.
At least to the jet in the air.
She pocketed the phone.
“Maybe once they land,” Vigor said, recognizing her failed attempt. “But if the Dragon Court knows we’re here, our headway just got narrower.”
“What do you propose?” Kat asked.
“We gain it back.”
“How?”
Vigor pointed to the dark stairs. “We still have twenty minutes until Gray and the others get here. Let’s put it to use. We’ll solve the riddle below, so once they arrive, we’re ready to act.”
Kat nodded at the logic. Plus it was the only way to make up for her lapse. She should never have allowed the spies to get so close.
“Let’s do it.”
6:02 A.M.
GRAY HURRIED with the others across the storm-swept tarmac. They had landed at the Avignon Caumont Airport only five minutes ago. He had to give Cardinal Spera credit…or at least his Vatican influence. Customs was cleared in the air, and a BMW sedan waited to ferry them to the Pope’s Palace. The cardinal had also left and gone into the terminal, to raise the local authorities. The Pope’s Palace had to be locked down.
That is, after they reached there, of course.
Gray ran with his cell phone, attempting to reach Kat and Vigor.
No answer.
He checked his signal strength. Free of the plane, the reception was another bar stronger. So what was the problem?
He let it ring and ring.
Finally he gave up. The only answer lay at the palace. Drenched, they all climbed into the waiting sedan as a brilliant display cracked across the sky, illuminating Avignon, nestled along a silver stretch of the Rhône. The Pope’s Palace was visible, the highest point in the city.
“Any luck?” Monk asked, nodding to the cell phone.
“No.”
“It could be the storm,” Seichan said.
No one was convinced.
Gray had attempted to get Seichan to stay behind at the airport. He wanted only those he fully trusted at his side. But Cardinal Spera had insisted she go, placing full faith in his contract with the Guild. And Seichan reminded Gray of his own contract between them. She had agreed to rescue Monk and Rachel in order to exact her revenge upon Raoul. She had met her end of the bargain. Gray had to meet his.
Rachel took the driver’s seat.
Not even Monk objected.
But his partner kept his shotgun on his lap, pointed at Seichan. Taking no chances either. The weapon had been recovered by Cardinal Spera in the Scavi below St. Peter’s. Monk seemed relieved to have it returned, more than his own hand.
With everyone seated, Rachel whipped the car around and headed away from the airport, aiming for the city. She took the narrow streets at breakneck speeds. At this early hour with a fierce storm blowing, there was little other traffic. They flew up some steep grades that had become rivers and planed around corners.
A few minutes later, Rachel wheeled them into the square before the palace. She side-swiped into a pile of chairs. Streamers of lights, now dark, draped the plaza. It looked like an abandoned party, waterlogged and deserted.
They piled out of the vehicle.
Rachel led the way to the main entrance, having been here before. She rushed them through a gateway, to a courtyard, then to a side door, the one Kat had mentioned.
Gray found the latch sawed off and the locking mechanism ripped out.
Not the fine handiwork of a former intelligence officer.
Someone else had broken inside.
Gray waved everyone back. “Stay here. I’ll check it out.”
“Not to be insubordinate,” Monk said. “But I’m not into the whole separating thing again. That didn’t work out so well last time.”
“I’m coming,” Rachel said.
“And I don’t believe you have authority over my comings and goings,” Seichan said.
Gray didn’t have time to argue—especially if he couldn’t win.
They set off into the palace. Gray had memorized the layout. He scouted ahead in a series of steps, cautious but swift. After coming upon the first body, he slowed. Dead. Already cooling.
He checked. Okay, this was the handiwork of a former intelligence officer. He moved on and almost landed on his face as his heel slipped on a rubber ball bearing. He caught himself with a hand against the wall.
Definitely Kat toys.
They continued, shuffling through the bearings.
Another body lay near the entrance to the kitchen. They had to step through the pool of blood to get inside.
Voices reached him. He held the others to the hallway and eavesdropped.
“We’re already late,” a voice said.
“I’m sorry. I had to be sure. All the angles needed to be checked.”
Kat and Vigor. In mid-argument. Their voices echoed up from a hole in the center of the kitchen. A glow grew brighter, bobbling a bit.
“Kat,” Gray called out, not wanting to startle his teammate. He had seen enough of her skill splayed in the halls here. “It’s Gray.”
The light went out.
Kat appeared a moment later, gun ready, pointed toward him.
“It’s safe,” Gray said.
Kat climbed out. Gray waved the others into the room.
Vigor emerged next from the hole.
Rachel rushed to him. He opened his arms and hugged her tight.
Kat spoke first and nodded to the bloody hallway. “The Dragon Court knows about this location.”
Gray agreed. “Cardinal Spera is rousing the local authorities right now. They should be here soon.”
Vigor kept one arm around his niece. “Then we may have just enough time.”
“For what?” Gray asked.
“To unlock the true treasure below.”
Kat nodded. “We solved the riddle here.”
“And what’s the answer?” Gray asked.
Vigor’s eyes brightened. “Light.”
6:14 A.M.
HE COULDN’T wait any longer.
From the terminal concourse of the tiny airport, Cardinal Spera had spied on the group as they departed in the BMW sedan. He waited five minutes as the commander had requested, giving the team time to reach the palace. He stood up and crossed to one of the armed security personnel, a blond young man in uniform.
In French, he asked to be taken to the man’s on-duty superior. He showed him his Vatican identification. “It is a matter of utmost urgency.”