Black Order (7 page)

Gray snatched it back. He remembered her bumping into him as she left to get the coffee. It had been more than impatient rudeness.

“Please don’t take offense,” Grette assured him. “It’s her way of saying hello.”

“All his ID checked out,” Fiona said with a shrug.

“Then please return the young man’s passport, Fiona.”

Gray checked his other pocket. Gone. For the love of God!

Fiona tossed the small blue chapbook with the U.S. eagle on the cover.

“Is that everything?” Gray asked, patting himself down.

Fiona shrugged.

“Again, please excuse my granddaughter’s exuberance. She gets overly protective sometimes.”

Gray stared at the two of them. “Would either of you care to explain what’s going on?”

“You’ve come to inquire about the Darwin
Bibel,
” Grette said.

“The Bible,” Fiona translated.

Grette nodded at her granddaughter. The slip of tongue plainly revealed some anxiety about the object.

“I represent a buyer who might be interested,” Gray said.

“Yes. We know. And you spent all day yesterday questioning others about additional items for bid at the Ergenschein Auction?”

Gray’s brows rose in surprise.

“We are a small community of bibliophiles here in Copenhagen. Word travels quickly among us.”

Gray frowned. He had thought he’d been more discreet.

“It was your very inquiry that helped me decide to submit my Darwin Bible to the auction. The entire community is stirred up by the growing interest in Victorian-era scientific treatises.”

“Making it a good time to sell,” Fiona said a bit too firmly, as if this were the tail end of a recent argument. “The flat lease is a month past—”

Her words were waved away. “It was a difficult decision. The Bible was purchased by my father in 1949. He treasured the volume. There are handwritten names of the Darwin family, going back ten generations before the illustrious Charles. But the Bible is also of historic interest. It journeyed with the man on his around-the-world trip aboard the HMS
Beagle
. And I don’t know if you knew this or not, but Charles Darwin once considered entering the seminary. In this one Bible, you find the juxtaposition of the religious man and the scientist.”

Gray nodded. Plainly the woman was attempting to intrigue him. Was all this a ploy to get him to pitch into the auction? To get the best price? Either way, Gray could use that to his advantage.

“And the reason Fiona followed me?” he asked.

Grette’s demeanor grew tired. “My apologies again for the intrusion. Like I mentioned before, there has been much interest of late in Victorian-era memorabilia, and it is a small community. We all know some of the transactions have been…shall we say…if not across the
black
market, then definitely the gray.”

“So I’ve heard rumors,” he said coyly, hoping to tease out more information.

“There have been some buyers who have reneged on bid prices or paid with illicit proceeds, bounced checks, et cetera. Fiona was only trying to protect my best interest. And sometimes she goes too far, falling back on talents best left behind.” The woman raised a single scolding eyebrow at her granddaughter.

Fiona suddenly found the floorboards of particular interest.

“There was one gentleman a year ago who spent an entire month searching through my files of provenance, the historical records of ownership.” She nodded to the wall of file cabinets. “Only to pay for the privilege with a stolen credit card. He showed particular interest in the Darwin Bible.”

“So we can’t be too careful,” Fiona said, emphasizing again.

“Do you know who this gentleman was?” Gray asked.

“No, but I’d remember him if I saw him again. A strange, pale fellow.”

Fiona stirred. “But a fraud investigation administered by the bank traced his trail through Nigeria to South Africa. That’s as far as it could be followed. Bloody bastard covered his tracks.”

Grette frowned. “Language, young lady.”

“Why such diligent investigation for a bad debt?” he asked.

Fiona again found the floorboards fascinating.

Grette stared hard at her granddaughter. “He has the right to know.”

“Mutti…” Fiona shook her head.

“Know what?”

Fiona glared at him, then away. “He’ll tell others, and we’ll get half the price for it.”

Gray held up a hand. “I can be discreet.”

Grette studied him, one eye narrowing. “But can you be truthful…that I wonder, Dr. Sawyer.”

Gray felt himself scrutinized by both females. Was his cover as secure as he hoped? The weight of their combined gazes made his back stiffen.

Grette finally spoke. “You should know. Shortly after the pale gentleman absconded with the knowledge here, there was a break-in at the shop. Nothing was stolen, but the display where we normally showcased the Darwin Bible was picked and opened. Fortunately for us, the Bible and our most valuable items are kept hidden in a floor vault at night. Also, the police responded promptly to the alarm, chasing them off. The burglary remained unsolved, but we knew who came after it.”

“The sniveling prat…,” Fiona mumbled.

“Since that night, we’ve kept the Bible in a safe-deposit box in a bank around the corner. Still, we’ve been vandalized twice this past year. The culprit bypassed the alarm, and the place was ransacked each time.”

“Someone was searching for the Bible,” Gray said.

“So we supposed.”

Gray began to understand. It wasn’t just monetary gain that was the deciding factor in unloading the Bible, but also to relieve themselves of the burden. Someone wanted the Bible, and eventually the pursuit might escalate into more violent means to gain possession of it. And that threat might pass on to the new buyer.

From the corner of his eye, Gray studied Fiona. All her actions were done to protect her grandmother, to protect their financial security. He noted the fire in her eyes even now. The girl plainly wished her grandmother had remained more reticent.

“The Bible might be safer in a private collection in America,” Grette said. “Such troubles might not pass over the proverbial Pond.”

Gray nodded, reading the sales pitch behind the words.

“Did you ever find out what so possessed the stranger to pursue the Bible?” he asked.

Now it was Grette’s turn to search off into the distance.

“Such information can only make the Bible more valuable to my client,” Gray pressed.

Grette’s eyes flicked to him. Somehow she knew the lie behind his words. She studied him again, weighing something more than just the truth of his words, looking deeper.

At that moment, Bertal shambled into the office, nosed longingly at a set of tea cakes beside the kettle on the desk, then crossed to Gray’s side and slumped to the floorboards with a sigh. His muzzle came to rest atop Gray’s boot, plainly comfortable with this stranger to their shop.

As if this were enough, Grette sighed and closed her eyes, and whatever hard edge softened. “I don’t know for sure. I only have some suppositions.”

“I’ll take what you can give.”

“The stranger came here looking for information regarding a library that was sold piecemeal after the war. In fact, four such items are up for auction this afternoon. The de Vries diary, a copy of Mendel’s papers, and two texts by the physicist Max Planck.”

Gray was well aware of the same list on his notepad. They were the very items that had sparked special attention among the questionable entities. Who was buying them up and why?

“Can you tell me anything else about this old library collection? Is there any provenance of significance?”

Grette stood and stepped toward her files. “I have the original receipt from my father’s purchase back in 1949. It names a village and a small estate. Let me see if I can find it.”

She moved into a shaft of sunlight below the back window and pulled open a middle drawer. “I can’t give you the original, but I’d be happy to have Fiona photocopy it for you.”

As the old woman rustled through her files, Bertal raised his nose from Gray’s right shoe, trailing a rope of drool. A low growl burbled from the dog.

But it was not directed at Gray.

“Here it is.” Grette turned and held out a sheet of yellowed paper in a plastic protective sleeve.

Gray ignored her extended arm and concentrated on her toes. A thin shadow shifted across the patch of sunlight where Grette stood.

“Get down!”

Gray leaped toward the sofa, reaching for the old woman.

Behind him, Bertal barked sharply, almost masking the
crack
of glass.

Gray, still reaching, was too late. All he could do was catch Grette Neal’s body as the front of her face dissolved in a shower of blood and bone, shot from behind by a sniper outside the window.

Gray caught her body and pitched down to the sofa.

Fiona screamed.

Through the shattered rear window, two distinct
pop
s sounded along with the shatter of glass. Two black canisters jetted into the office, struck the far wall, and clattered down, bouncing.

Gray leaped off the sofa, shouldering into Fiona. He shoved her bodily out of the office and around the corner.

The dog scrambled after them.

Gray half carried Fiona behind a sheltering bookcase as twin detonations ripped through the office, blasting apart the wall in a fiery explosion of plaster and splintered wood.

The bookcase toppled over, crashing into its neighbor and leaning precariously. Gray sheltered Fiona under him.

Overhead, texts burst into flame and fiery ash rained down.

Gray spotted the old dog. He had moved too slowly, hobbled by the bad paw. The concussion had slammed the poor dog into the far wall. He did not move. His fur smoldered.

Gray shielded Fiona from the sight. “We have to get clear.”

He pulled her shocked form from under the leaning bookcase. Flames and smoke already filled the back half of the shop. Overhead sprinklers burst with tepid sprays. Too little, too late. Not with this much tinder on hand.

“Out the front!” he urged.

He stumbled forward with her.

Too slowly.

Before them, the outer security gate crashed down, sealing the front door and window. Gray noted shadows fading to either side of the barred gate. More gunmen.

Gray glanced behind him. A churning wall of flame and smoke filled the back of the shop.

They were trapped.

11:57
P.M
.
WASHINGTON, D.C.

Monk drowsed in that happy place between bliss and sleep. He and Kat had moved from the bathroom floor to the bed as passion dissolved to soft whispers and even softer touches. The sheets and comforters were still knotted around their naked forms; neither was ready to untie themselves, not physically, not in any way.

Monk’s finger traced the curve of Kat’s breast, lazily, more in reassurance than arousal. The smooth arch of her foot gently caressed his calf.

Perfection.

Nothing could ruin this—

A piercing warble erupted in the room, tensing them both.

It rose from the side of the bed, where Monk had dropped his sweatpants…or rather had them yanked off him. The pager was still clipped to the elastic waist. He knew he had switched the device to vibration when he returned from his evening jog. Only one manner of call broke through that mode.

Emergency.

On the other side of the bed, from the nightstand, a second pager burst with a matching clarion call.

Kat’s.

They both pushed up, eyes meeting with worry.

“Central command,” Kat said.

Monk reached down and grabbed his pager, dragging his sweatpants up with it. He confirmed her assessment.

He rolled his feet to the floor and reached for the phone. Kat sat up next to him, pulling the sheets to cover her bare breasts, as if some manner of decency was necessary to call into central command. He dialed the number for Sigma Force’s direct line. It was picked up immediately.

“Captain Bryant?” Logan Gregory answered.

“No, sir. It’s Monk Kokkalis. But Kat…Captain Bryant is here with me.”

“I need you both back at command immediately.”

Logan filled him in tersely.

Monk listened, nodding. “We’re leaving now,” he finished and hung up.

Kat met his gaze, brows pinched together. “What’s wrong?”

“Trouble.”

“With Gray?”

“No. I’m sure he’s fine.” Monk climbed into his sweats. “Probably having a great time with Rachel.”

“Then—?”

“It’s Director Crowe. Something’s happened in Nepal. Details are sketchy. Something about a plague.”

“Has Director Crowe reported in?”

“That’s just it. His last report was three days ago, but a storm had closed off communication. So there was not too much concern. Then the storm broke today, and still no communication. And now there’re rumors of plague, death, and some uprising out there. Possibly a rebel attack.”

Kat’s eyes widened.

“Logan is calling everyone into command.”

Kat slid out of bed and reached for her own clothes. “What could be going on out there?”

“Nothing good, that’s for damn sure.”

9:22
A.M
.
COPENHAGEN, DENMARK

“Is there a way upstairs?” Gray asked.

Fiona stared at the closed gate, rooted in place, eyes wide and unblinking. Gray read the signs of shock in the girl.

“Fiona…” Gray stepped around and leaned close, nose to nose, filling her vision. “Fiona, we must get away from the fire.”

Behind her, the firestorm spread rapidly, fueled by the stacks of dry books and broken pine shelving. Flames had climbed and lapped to the ceiling. Smoke churned and rolled along the roof. Sprinklers continued to leak tepidly into the conflagration, adding steam to the toxic pall.

The heat intensified with each breath. Still, as Gray took Fiona’s hands in his, she shivered, her whole body trembling. But at least his touch finally focused her eyes on him.