Black Order (14 page)

So there it was, plainly stated. They were alive for the moment only because of their suspected knowledge. And that knowledge would be extracted through blood and pain. Painter considered making a move now. Getting it over with. A fast death over a slow agonizing one. He had too much sensitive intel in his head to risk torture.

But he was not alone out here. He pictured Lisa, warming her hands with his. As long as they lived, there was hope.

Other guards joined them. Lisa was forced out of the cave at gunpoint. They were led to the snowmobiles.

Lisa met his eyes, fear shining bright.

He was determined to protect her to the best of his ability.

Anna Sporrenberg joined them as they were being bound. “Before we head out, let me speak plainly. We can’t let you go. I think you understand that. I won’t give you that false hope. But I can promise you a painless and peaceful end.”

“Like with the monks,” Lisa said harshly. “We witnessed your mercy there.”

Painter tried to catch Lisa’s eye. Now was not the time to antagonize their captors. The bastards obviously had no compunction against killing out of hand. They both needed to play the cooperative prisoner.

Too late.

Anna seemed to truly see Lisa for the first time, turning to her. A bit of heat entered the woman’s voice. “It
was
mercy, Dr. Cummings.” Her eyes flicked to the assassin who still kept guard. “You know nothing of the illness that struck the monastery. Of what horrors awaited the monks. We do. Their deaths were not murder, but
euthanasia.
”

“And who gave you that right?” Lisa asked.

Painter shifted closer. “Lisa, maybe—”

“No, Mr. Crowe.” Anna stepped closer to Lisa. “What right, you ask? Experience, Dr. Cummings. Experience. Trust me when I tell you…the deaths up there were a kindness, not a cruelty.”

“And what about the men I came up here with in the helicopter? Was that a kindness, too?”

Anna sighed, tiring of their words. “Hard choices had to be made. Our work here is too important.”

“And what about us?” Lisa called as the woman turned away. “It’s a painless needle if we cooperate. But what if we don’t feel like cooperating?”

Anna headed toward the lead snowmobile. “There will be no thumbscrews, if that’s what you mean. Drugs only. We are not barbarians, Dr. Cummings.”

“No, you’re only Nazis!” Lisa spat at her. “We saw the swastika!”

“Don’t be foolish. We’re not Nazis.” Anna glanced calmly back to them as she hiked her leg over the seat to the snowmobile. “Not anymore.”

6:38
P.M
.
COPENHAGEN, DENMARK

Gray hurried across the street toward the auction house.

What was Fiona thinking, barging in here after what happened?

Concern for her safety weighed heavily. But Gray also had to admit that her intrusion offered him the excuse he needed. To attend the auction in person. Whoever had firebombed the shop, murdered Grette Neal, and tried to kill him…their trail led here.

Gray reached the sidewalk and slowed. The slanting rays of the setting sun turned the door to the auction house into a silvery mirror. He checked his clothes, having dressed in a frenzy of fine tailoring. The suit, a navy Armani pinstripe, fit well, but the starched white shirt was tight at the collar. He straightened the pale yellow tie.

Not exactly inconspicuous. But he had to play the role of the buyer for an affluent American financier.

He pushed through the door to the auction house. The lobby was pure Scandinavian design, meaning a total lack thereof: bleached wood, glass partitions, and little else. The only furniture was a bony sculptural chair positioned next to a side table the size of a postage stamp. It held up a single potted orchid. Its reedlike stem supported an anemic brown and pink blossom.

The doorman tapped his cigarette into the plant’s pot and stepped toward Gray with a sour expression.

Gray reached to a pocket and pulled out his invitation. It had required wiring a quarter-million-dollar deposit into the house’s fund, a guarantee that the buyer had the wherewithal to attend such an exclusive event.

The doorman checked his invitation, nodded, and strode over to a velvet rope that closed off a wide set of stairs that led to the lower level. He unhitched the rope and waved Gray through.

At the bottom of the stairs, a set of swinging doors opened into the main bidding floor. A pair of guards flanked the entrance. One held a metal-detecting wand. Gray allowed himself to be searched, arms out. He noted the video cameras posted to either side of the threshold. Security was snug. Once he was cleared, the other guard buzzed a button and pulled open the door.

The murmur of voices flowed out to him. He recognized Italian, Dutch, French, Arabic, and English. It seemed all the world had shown up for the auction.

Gray entered. A few glances were made in his direction, but most attention remained focused on the glass cases that lined the walls. Employees of the auction house, dressed in identical black attire, stood behind the counter, like at a jewelry store. They wore white gloves and helped patrons view the objects up for bid.

A string quartet played softly in one corner. A few servers circulated, offering tall glasses of champagne to the guests.

Gray checked in at a neighboring desk and was given a numbered paddle. He moved farther inside. A handful of patrons had already taken their seats. Gray spotted the pair of latecomers who had held up the auction, the pale young man and woman, the silent-movie stars. They sat in the front row. A paddle rested on the woman’s lap. The man leaned over and whispered in his partner’s ear. It was a strangely intimate gesture, perhaps enhanced by the woman’s arched neck, long and lithe, tilted as if awaiting a kiss.

Her eyes flicked to Gray as he moved down the center aisle. Her gaze flowed over him and away.

No recognition.

Gray continued his own search, reaching the front of the room with its raised stage and podium. He turned in a slow circle. He saw no outward threat to his presence.

He also saw no sign of Fiona.

Where was she?

He edged to one of the glass cases and wandered down the far side. His ears were half tuned to the conversations around him. He walked past an attendant lifting and gently resting a bulky leather-bound book atop the display case for a portly gentleman. The interested party leaned close, a pair of spectacles resting at the tip of his nose.

Gray noted the particular book.

A treatise on butterflies with hand-drawn plates, circa 1884.

He continued down the aisle. Once near the door again, he found himself confronted by the dowdy woman he had filmed earlier. She was holding out a small white envelope. Gray accepted it, even before he wondered what it could be. The woman seemed disinterested in anything further and wandered away.

Gray smelled a hint of perfume on the envelope.

Strange.

He used a thumbnail to break the seal and pulled out a folded piece of stationery, expensive from its watermark. A short note was neatly written.

EVEN THE GUILD KNOWS BETTER THAN TO STRAY TOO NEAR THIS FLAME. WATCH YOUR BACK. KISSES.

The note was unsigned. But at the bottom, inked in crimson, was the symbol of a small curled dragon. Gray’s other hand wandered to his neck, where a matching dragon hung in silver, a gift from a competitor.

Seichan.

She was an operative for the Guild, a shady cartel of terrorist cells that had crossed paths with Sigma Force in the past. Gray felt the hairs on his neck stand on end. He turned and searched the room. The dowdy woman who had handed him the note had vanished.

He glanced again at the note.

A warning.

Better late than never…

But at least the Guild was taking a pass here. That is, if Seichan could be believed…

Actually Gray was willing to take her at her word.

Honor among thieves and all that.

A commotion drew his attention toward the rear of the room.

A tall gentleman swept onto the bidding floor through a back door. Resplendent in a tuxedo, he was the esteemed Mr. Ergenschein himself, acting as auctioneer. He palmed his oiled black hair into place—clearly a dye job. Across his cadaverous features, a smile was fixed on his face, as if pasted from a book.

The reason for his clear discomfort followed behind. Or rather was being led by a guard who had a hand clamped on her upper arm.

Fiona.

Her face was flushed. Her lips set in a line of dread, bled of color.

Furious.

Gray headed toward them.

Ergenschein strode off to the side. He carried an object wrapped in a soft unbleached chamois. He stepped over to the main display case near the front. It had been empty before. One of the staff unlocked the cabinet. Ergenschein gently unwrapped the object and settled it into the case.

Noting Gray’s approach, the auctioneer brushed his hands together and stepped over to meet him, allowing his palms to come to rest as if in prayer. Behind him, the cabinet was locked by an attendant.

Gray noted the addition to the case.

The Darwin Bible.

Fiona’s eyes widened when she spotted Gray.

He ignored her and confronted Ergenschein. “Is there a problem here?”

“Of course not, sir. The young lady’s being escorted out. She has no invitation to this auction.”

Gray took out his own card. “I believe I’m allowed a guest in attendance.” He held out his other hand for Fiona. “I’m glad to see she’s already here. I was held up on a conference call with my buyer. I approached the young Ms. Neal earlier today to inquire about a private sale. One item in particular.”

Gray nodded to the Darwin Bible.

Ergenschein’s entire body sighed with feigned sadness. “A tragedy. About the fire. But I’m afraid that Grette Neal signed her lot to the auction house. Without a countermand from her estate’s barrister, I’m afraid the lot must be put up for auction. That is the law.”

Fiona tugged on the guard’s arm, murder in her eyes.

Ergenschein seemed oblivious of her. “I’m afraid you’ll have to bid yourself, sir. My apologies, but my hands are tied.”

“Then in that case, you certainly wouldn’t mind that Ms. Neal remains at my side. To aid me if I wish to inspect the lot?”

“As you wish.” Ergenschein’s smile wore into a brief frown. He made a vague dismissive wave to the guard. “But she must stay with you at all times. And as your guest, she is your responsibility.”

Fiona was released. As Gray led her toward the back, he noted the guard flanked them along the edge of the room. It seemed they had gained their own personal bodyguard.

Gray herded Fiona into the last row. A chime sounded, announcing that the auction would commence in another minute. Seats began to fill, mostly near the front. Gray and Fiona had the back row to themselves.

“What are you doing here?” he whispered.

“Getting back my Bible,” she said with thick disdain. “Or at least
trying
to.”

She slumped back in her seat, arms crossed over her leather purse.

Off to the front, Ergenschein took the podium and made some formal introductions. The proceedings would be in English. It was the most common language among the auction’s international clientele. Ergenschein elaborated on the rules of bidding, the house’s premium and fees, even proper etiquette. The most important rule was that you were only allowed to bid up to ten times the amount placed and secured on deposit.

Gray ignored most of it, continuing with Fiona, earning a few disgruntled glances from those in the row ahead.

“You came back for the Bible? Why?”

The girl only tightened her arms.

“Fiona…”

She turned to him, hard and angry. “Because it was Mutti’s!” Tears glistened. “They killed her over it. I won’t let them have it.”

“Who?”

She waved an arm. “Whoever sodding murdered her. I’m going to get it and burn it.”

Gray sighed and leaned back. Fiona wanted whatever revenge she could get. She wanted to hurt them. Gray didn’t blame her…but her reckless actions were only likely to get her killed, too.

“The Bible’s ours. I should be able to take it back.” Her voice cracked. She shook her head and swiped at her nose.

Gray put an arm around her.

She winced but didn’t pull away.

In front, the auction began. Paddles rose and fell. Items came and went. The best would be held until last. Gray noted who bought what. He especially noted who were the final bidders for the items logged into his notebook, the three items of special interest: Mendel’s genetics papers, Planck’s physics, and de Vries’s diary on mutations.

They all went to the pair of silent-movie stars.

Their identities remained unknown. Gray heard whispers among his fellow participants. No one knew who they were. Only their ever-rising paddle number.

Number 002.

Gray leaned to Fiona. “Do you recognize those buyers? Have you ever seen them before in your shop?”

Fiona straightened in her seat, stared for a full minute, then slunk down. “No.”

“How about anyone else?”

She shrugged.

“Fiona, are you sure?”

“Yes,” she snapped. “I’m bloody goddamn sure!”

This earned more exasperated glances in their direction.

At last the auction wound down to the final item. The Darwin Bible was unlocked from its case and carried like a religious relic to an easel that stood under a special halogen spot. It was an unimpressive tome: flaking black leather, tattered and stained, not even any lettering. It could be any old journal.

Fiona sat straighter. Plainly this was what had kept her in her seat this entire time. She grabbed Gray’s wrist. “Are you really going to bid on it?” she asked, hope dawning in her bright eyes.

Gray frowned at her—then realized it wasn’t a half-bad idea. If the others were willing to kill over it, maybe some clue to the entire house of cards could be discerned from it. Besides, he was aching to get a peek at it. And Sigma Force had poured 250,000 euros into the account here at the auction house. That meant he could bid up to 2.5 million. That was twice the maximum estimate for the Bible. If he won, he’d be able to inspect his purchase.