The Columbus Code (5 page)

The sun had begun to spread its pinks and oranges over the Mediterranean when the meeting concluded with another chorus of the vow. Each man kissed the hand of the venerated Abaddon and took his leave. Tejada was last, and when he grasped the old man's fingers in his, Abaddon held on. His frail voice notwithstanding, his grip was still powerful.

“Stay a moment,” he whispered. “Sit here.”

Tejada pulled his cushion closer to Abaddon's chair and lowered himself onto it. Abaddon leaned forward, so that his face was almost level with Tejada's. Emilio could barely see it in the gathering darkness.

“You think the meeting went well?”

“Yes, Lord Abaddon,” Tejada said. “I think it went very well.”

“Good. I would hate to know that the others would take the pledge and not follow through.”

Tejada felt his brow lift in surprise. “Why would you think that? Didn't you sense their agreement? Their unity of purpose?”

The old man nodded and twisted the ring on his left hand, mumbling the Greek letters across the top, “
Chi, rho, omicron
,” and the inscription beneath them, “
Ferrens
.” He looked sideways at Tejada. “You remember the day you took the ring?”

Tejada had no idea where this was going. “Yes I do,” he said.

“I installed you myself, and do you know why?”

Tejada shook his head, although at times he'd been sure he did know.

“I gave you all my power.”

Only the society's principle of maintaining complete aplomb kept Tejada from crying out. He'd known it, yes, but to hear it from Abaddon was another matter entirely.

“I did that for a purpose.” Abaddon's voice seemed to be gaining strength now that the others were gone. It had its original rough, gravelly texture. “Do you know what that purpose was?”

“I do.”

“Then do not forget it.”

Tejada stirred uneasily on the cushion.

“You're troubled,” Abaddon said, eyes closed again. “Why?”

“Do you suspect that there is something afoot to thwart us?”

“Not some
thing
, Emilio. Some
one.”
His eyes opened and met Tejada's. “Be alert, and report any deviation to me immediately.”

Tejada agreed, though he couldn't fathom anything interfering with Abaddon's well-laid plan, a plan born from centuries of preparation. Though his voice might falter, he possessed a force seemingly without end. He was aged, but not diminished. Tired, but not overcome. Somewhat unkempt of late but still attractive, in that way that
all charismatic people remain—though, Tejada thought, far more than any other.

The plan would proceed as it had been prepared. In Tejada's experience, no force could compete with the innate and burning energy of Lord Abaddon.

And now he knew he also had that power. He would use it for good.

Maria ignored Bill Snowden's advice to take a sleeping pill on the flight and she was glad she'd followed her instincts. She slept soundly in the business class cabin and was awake enough when the plane touched down to appreciate her first sight of Barcelona—the diamond-blue Mediterranean, the bright tile roofs, the spires of the Sagrada Família.

A thick-necked driver with a close shave holding a sign with her name on it met her outside customs and swept her, along with her luggage, off to a waiting car. After Maria's failed attempt to use her college Spanish on him, he scowled at her. When she whipped out her phone to pull up the Spanish/English translation app, he became absolutely sullen. She forgot him when she slid into the backseat of the limo and bumped hips with a young woman about her age with dark, curly hair and a bright smile.

“Elena Soler,” she said, in elegant British English. “I'll be your assistant while you're here since I understand yours was unable to come.”

“Unable to come” didn't quite describe it. Austin would have had his cat at the kennel and his mail stopped within minutes if Snowden had asked him. Their assumption was that Maria was going to be
Snowden's assistant while she was there and wouldn't need one of her own. She guessed he'd had a change of heart.

“Your first visit to our city?” Elena asked.

“Yes.” Maria nodded, eyes riveted on the passing scenery. “Look at this architecture. Oh, my gosh, is that a Gaudí?”

Elena's eyes—a silvery gray—widened. “Not many people our age appreciate that.”

“I love buildings. Love. Them.”

“I'll take you sightseeing if you want,” Elena said.

“Like I'm going to have time.”

Elena had a knowing look. “We don't drive ourselves the way Americans do. You might just learn how to live while you're here. Besides”—she gave a dainty shrug—“I plan to take care of all the minor details so you can enjoy your stay.”

Maria didn't know where Snowden had found this girl. In fact, if he knew she was this accommodating he'd probably take her for himself.

“That's where we're going,” Elena said, pointing.

Maria looked in that direction and let an old expression of
Abuela
's—“holy cow!”—slip out. Elena put her hand to her mouth, obviously to hide a smile at the untraveled American.

But seriously? The Catalonia Financial complex looked more like a university than the location of the world's largest investment company. Situated on a lush green campus of manicured lawns, the buildings were all glass and polished steel and graceful lines that spoke more of elegance than business.

“
Señor
Tejada likes things nice,” Elena explained.

“This is way past ‘nice.'”
Actually, try overkill
, Maria thought.

The limo pulled up to a gleaming tower, the tallest on the site,
and the sulky driver alighted from the front seat to open Maria's door almost before the engine stopped running.

“
Gracias
, Louis,” Elena said.

Louis grunted in response as they slipped from the car and made their way past.

“What's with him?” Maria muttered.

“You mean the Mount Rushmore face? He's not supposed to flirt with any of the women he drives.”

“Flirt? He looks like he wants to slit my throat.”

Elena once again drew her hand over her mouth.

“It's okay to laugh,” Maria said. “I'd be offended if you didn't. This is some of my best stuff.”

“You
are
funny,” Elena said.

When Maria was nervous she went into her stand-up comedy routine, and that morning she was in rare form. She didn't want to appear to be anxious, but it couldn't be helped. This was her first opportunity to prove herself to Snowden. Until now he'd treated her as nothing more than his go-to gal for grunt work, and she had not graduated Harvard Law for that. That wasn't what her mom would want her doing either. Maria hoped her nerves would settle down while joking with Elena.

An elevator took them to an upper floor and from there Elena led her to a pair of double doors made of intricately carved Spanish cedar.

“More ‘nice'?” Maria whispered.

“You haven't seen anything yet,” Elena whispered back.

When they slipped between the heavy doors, Maria saw Snowden rise to greet her, but she still had a minute to take in the room. Men occupied every chair around the massive horseshoe-shaped table. The
walls were cream stucco, the floors hand-painted ceramic tile. One whole wall contained tinted windows overlooking Barcelona, while on the others were heavily framed portraits of what must have been Catalonia's forefathers. One of them even wore a
conquistador
helmet. Maria had thoroughly researched the history of the company, but she didn't recall it going back
that
far.

“Good flight?” Snowden asked at her elbow.

She knew he wouldn't wait for any answer so she didn't bother replying.

“They're about to start,” he continued. “You'll sit directly behind me, and remember, no recording. I told them you were trustworthy, so they won't ask for your phone.”

“What about Elena?”

Snowden had a puzzled look.

“My assistant?” Maria added.

“Oh. Yeah . . .” Snowden gestured toward a row of chairs. “She can sit beside you.”

He returned to his chair. Maria presumed the other chairs were occupied by the Catalonia board of directors and the representatives of Belgium Continental. All the men wore Armani-type suits and subdued ties. The air was heavy with the smell of men's cologne.

Maria and Elena followed Snowden and took their places in chairs along the wall behind him. They were barely settled when the double doors opened and a tall man entered the room—back straight and head held high, as if it were momentarily bereft of its crown. The only thing missing, Maria thought, was a trumpet fanfare to announce his entry.

“Emilio Tejada,” Elena whispered.

Yes. The CEO of Catalonia Financial. Maria had never seen a picture of him. She had imagined him as older, more sedate, less
interesting. In reality he was handsome, though not outstandingly so. As he moved through the room, touching shoulders and shaking hands, it was apparent that his attractiveness came largely from his charm. He had the look of someone who remained cool even in the pit of summer when everyone else was bathed in his own sweat. Wavy, dark hair. Deep-set eyes. Maria watched him lean his head in closer to a few of the men around the table and nod solemnly, then break into a reassuring smile. There was nothing aloof about him, and yet it was clear he was a breed apart from everyone in the room.

Elena slid a piece of paper onto Maria's laptop.
Fascinating, isn't he?
it read.

Maria nodded.
Abuela
would be saying he was “quality” while nudging her in the rib with her elbow. The man wasn't her type, but yeah—he was intriguing.

Tejada took his place at the head of the table and Maria looked at the door, waiting for the rest of his staff, but no one else followed. So this was it for legal representation—Snowden, two male secretaries, and her? Emilio Tejada was either trusting or a cheapskate, and from the looks of this place, it wasn't the latter.

Then one of the doors opened again and a muscular, broad-shouldered man with a bald head stepped in. He was built like Uncle Ben but looked a whole lot scarier.

Maria raised her eyebrows at Elena, who scribbled,
Carlos Molina. Head of security for Cat. Everywhere
.

That made sense. Who would mess with him?

As Tejada took his place at the table, the room quieted. He raised his hands in a stand-up gesture and Maria started to get to her feet, but Elena put a hand on her arm and whispered, “Just them.”

Twelve men stood and at a nod from Tejada, said in unison, “
Con los antiguos que vinieron antes que nosotros, y para el futuro de nuestra
propia creación, nos comprometemos nuestras vidas y nuestras fortunas con el Maestro.”

Before Maria could utter a “Huh?” Elena passed her a note that said simply,
Don't ask
.

Yeah, she was definitely going to have to work on her Spanish. And she was going to ask Snowden if they did that every time they met. It would be nice to be prepared so she didn't make some huge cultural error.

For the first hour, the board conducted regular business, all in English, which Tejada said, with a nod toward Snowden, was for the benefit of his American colleagues. There was a lot of receiving and approving of financial reports, most of which Maria only summarized in her notes. Gump, Snowden and Meir represented Catalonia in all aspects of its business, but its main purpose here was the Belgian deal.

Finally the discussion turned to the pending acquisition and Maria came to attention. As each document was passed to Snowden, he in turn handed a copy back to Maria, and she read it with the keen—and fast—eye she'd learned to use in her nine months at the firm. She then typed the main details on her laptop and e-mailed them to Snowden, who could talk intelligently as questions arose from the Belgian contingency.

“You're good,” Elena whispered at one point.

Maria gave an appreciative nod. She hoped Snowden thought so.

The meeting broke at two for what Elena told her would be a two-hour lunch.

“I wish,” Maria said. “Is there someplace I can work while maybe you run out and get us something?”

Elena all but rolled her eyes. “I wonder how any of you Americans live to retirement. There's office space for your whole firm, but you'll be the only one in there.
Everybody
goes out for a meal.”

“Okay,” Maria said, “but only for an hour.”

“Louis will drive us.”

“We can't walk? That's the best way to see a city.”

Elena pulled her aside and lowered her voice. “I guess no one explained this to you.”

“Explained what?”

“Louis isn't just your driver. He's your bodyguard while you're here.”