The Templar's Secret (The Templar Series) (49 page)

Not even attempting to hide his disdain, the
cardinal snorted. ‘I lied.’

H
earing the cardinal’s callous admission, tears welled in Gracián’s eyes. ‘
I
am the one who has been betrayed. In truth, you’re no different than Mephistopheles; a demon in the guise of a gray friar who tempts men to sell their souls to the Devil. You claim to be a Prince of the Church, but you are really an evil man.’

‘
Need I remind you that the much-maligned Mephistopheles never sought men whom he could corrupt. Rather, he chose only those pathetic characters who were already damned because of their sinful actions.
You
,
Gracián Santos, are such a man. You sold your soul long before I ever made your acquaintance.’

‘
It is true. If I had been a stronger,
better
man, I would have spurned your advances instead of becoming that most despicable of creatures . . . a collaborator in a malevolent plot,’ he murmured, heartbroken.

‘
Where’s the third plate?’ the cardinal brusquely demanded to know.

Gracián shrugged his shoulders
. ‘I have no idea, Your Eminence. Although, if there truly is a God, you’ll never gain custody of the ancient gospel.’

Hearing that, the cardinal’s face instantly flushed bright red, his fury plain to see. Livid, he turned to Hector and said, ‘Kill the Englishman. He’s a dangerous liability.’

Hector shook his head, baffled. ‘But we don’t have the third plate.’

‘And now that Aisquith has his daughter, I very much doubt that he’ll give it to us,’ the cardinal retorted. ‘But I want you to keep his partner, Edie Miller, alive. There’s a reason why women are called the weaker sex. Trust me, she’ll turn over the copper plate to save her life.’ Orders issued, Cardinal Fiorio waved a dismissive hand in Gracián’s direction. ‘
I’m through with Father Santos. He’s all yours.’

Eyes burning with a dark fire, Hector raised the Glock.

The end nigh, Gracián spread his arms out to the side of his body. A human cross.

‘
Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,’ he whispered . . . seconds before he felt an excruciating burst of pain.

Edie extended her right arm into the air, desperately trying to get a mobile connection. About to step away from the maple – wondering if the massive tree might be blocking the signal – she suddenly froze.

‘Oh my God!’ she rasped, certain that she’d just heard a single shot ring out.

Someone inside Mercy Hall fired a gun!

Wondering what was going on inside the mansion, she watched as Javier Aveles dashed out of the building and jumped into the parked SUV. Loose scree flew into the air as he drove at a breakneck speed, heading in her direction.

Terror-stricken, Edie pressed herself tightly against the tree trunk as the SUV sped past, disappearing at the bottom of the hill.

He’s going after Caedmon!

Again, she tried to get a phone signal.

‘Damn it!’

T
ime for Plan B.

Clipping her phone on to her waistband, Edie sprinted towards the carriage house
, vigorously pumping her arms up and down in the desperate hope that it would make her legs move faster. Since Caedmon had the keys to the rental car, she intended to steal a vehicle out of the Fellowship garage and go to his rescue.

Almost there!

Breathless, panting from exertion, she reached the stable door on the gable end of the carriage house. All thumbs, she fumbled a bit with the latch before she was able to fling the door wide open.

Quickly, she scanned the six bays: there was a black Toyota pick-up truck; a passenger van; a large, serviceable tractor; and a golf cart. The last two bays were empty. She
dashed over to the truck, hoping to find the key in the –

‘Damn it!’ There was no key in the ignition.

Her stomach in knots, she hurriedly trotted over to the van. Again, no keys.

Hearing voices, Edie peered over her shoulder – just in time to see Calzada and Diaz enter through the open door. She immediately ducked behind the tractor.

Oh, God! Not those guys!

She didn’t know who scared her more: the crotch-grabbing Calzada or Diaz, the monster who’d g
leefully relieved the Marqués de Bagá of his head. Holding her breath, she inched to one side, risking a glance around the side of the oversized rubber tire. Her eyes widened fearfully –
Diaz had a sub-machine gun clutched in his hand!

Just as the two men were about to get into the black pick-up truck, a discordant sound echoed in the distance.

Poppoppoppoppop!

Instantly recognizing the terrifying chatter of automatic weapon fire,
Edie’s heart skidded against her breastbone.

Someone’s shooting at
Caedmon!

She watched as Diaz, gesturing wildly, made harsh noises in the back of this throat, sounding
more like a wild animal than a human being.

‘Calm down, bro,’ Calzada hissed, his stern tone instantly calming the savage beast. ‘It’s just Javier taking care of business. We’ll man the front gate. No way in hell is that English fucker gonna escape the premises alive.’

Seconds later, the automatic garage door opened, the pick-up truck speeding down the paved drive.

Hands trembling, Edie unclipped her phone and
punched the numerals 9-1-1 on to the keypad, the emergency access code.

Nothing.
Dead air. The fast-approaching storm must have knocked out the phone service. That meant there would be no taking up a defensive position behind the male bastions. She was on her own.

Another
staccato burst of gun fire echoed across the dale.

Poppoppoppoppop!

On wobbly legs, Edie rushed over to the parked golf cart, relieved to see a chrome key protruding from the ignition. She yanked the plug out of the electric socket and jumped behind the wheel. As she drove the golf cart out of the garage, another burst of gunfire rang out; the sound nearly indistinguishable from the thunder that boomed in the near distance.

Praying that she wasn’t too late, she drove at breakneck speed – all of twenty miles per hour – across the lawn.

A wild bull charging a red cape.

Poppoppoppoppop!

As they came under a barrage of gunfire, Anala shrieked loudly. Caedmon, furious, damned near shrieked, a bullet whistling past his left ear.

A very close call!

No sooner had they exited the root cellar than they’d come under attack, the shots fired fast and furious. A deadly pummel that was near-deafening. One bullet right after another. Whoever was firing at them obviously had a sub-machine gun.

For fuck’s sake!

Although Caedmon had the Mossberg shotgun, there was no time to return fire. His first priority was to get Anala to safe cover.

Cinching his left hand around her upper arm,
Caedmon charged towards the metal lean-to, Anala in tow. As they ran past a limestone outcropping, bullets ricocheted off the stone, causing sparks to momentarily flash as severed chips flew into the air. They ducked behind the truck just as a stream of bullets ripped through the rusted-out frame. Anala lurched, crying out in pain as she hit the ground.

‘Afraid
I left my land legs back in the cellar,’ she huffed, quickly scrambling to her knees.

Caedmon
spared her a quick glance. She was holding up remarkably well.
Thank God.

Crouched side by side, they weat
hered the next deadly barrage, Anala, again, shrieking as the driver’s side window was suddenly blown out in a shattering blast. A third round tore up the turf beside the truck, clods of dirt plopping through the air.

‘
Time for a dose of nasty-tasting medicine,’ Caedmon muttered.

He rose up on bended knee and
raised the Persuader over the back-end of the truck. Bracing the rubberized butt against his shoulder, he took aim and fired. Then, just to give the unseen bastard something to ponder, he yanked on the fore-end, quickly chambering another shell. Again, he pulled the trigger, blasting a second load of double-aught buckshot in the gunman’s direction before he lowered the shotgun and safely tucked himself behind the truck.

Although it was by no means a superior weapon, the shotgun was still
lethal enough to give their gunman a moment’s pause.

Hunkered against the side of the
truck, neither he nor Anala said a word. There was no point in stating the bloody obvious: that they were ensnared in a deadly trap.

Caedmon
peered round the corner, scanning the terrain. They needed a sturdier bulwark. Something that could withstand sustained fire from a sub-machine gun.

‘Do you think that you have enough energy to run to the back door of the cottage?’ he asked Anala.

Still huffing from the earlier dash, she gamely nodded her head. ‘On three?’

‘Right. One, two –’

Three!

They took off
in tandem, both of them crouched low as they ran towards the cottage. Gunfire followed in their wake, each fleeting second hideously drawn-out.

Anala was the first one to reach the back door.
‘It’s locked!’ she hollered.

Another burst of gunfire erupted.

‘Stand back!’ Raising his right leg, Caedmon kicked the wooden door at its weakest point – just below the knob – as hard he could.

The weathered door flew open
, swinging forcefully on its hinges just as another round of shots was fired.

Anala dashed inside a small vestibule,
Caedmon right behind her. Seizing a shovel that was hanging on the wall, he jammed it under the knob to keep the door closed. As he did, bullets pitted the exterior of the door, the impact rattling his spine.

Turning on his heel, he saw that the vestibule opened on to an old-fashioned kitchen. Dust-laden and cobweb strewn, the cupboards were all bare.
The glass window over the kitchen sink suddenly shattered, a line of bullets plowing into the far wall.

Bloody hell! The gunman had them in his sights!

Snatching hold of Anala’s upper arm, he pulled her towards a row of cabinets. ‘Get down!’ he yelled as more shots were fired through the shattered window. ‘We need to stay out of the gunman’s line of fire!’

Anala obediently
flung herself at the floor, wedging herself into the angle formed by two adjoining cabinets.

Sidling over to the sink,
Caedmon popped into firing stance, aiming the Mossberg out of the shattered window. He wasted no time pulling the trigger, immediately yanking and shoving the fore-end, and firing a second shell.
Two blind shots
. While he didn’t have a prayer of hitting the unseen gunman, he needed to draw enemy fire. It was the only way that he could determine the enemy’s location.

The gambit worked, the load of expelled buckshot immediately answered with a
poppoppoppoppop!

Catching sight of a muzzle flash,
Caedmon ducked back to the floor.

‘
How many of them are out there?’ Anala hissed in a low voice.

Not bothering to lower his voice –
what was the point? –
Caedmon said, ‘I’m fairly certain that we’re dealing with a lone gunman.’
At least for the time being
,
he thought but didn’t mention, not wanting to escalate her terror. He needed Anala to remain as calm as possible. No easy feat under the circumstances.

Unclipping
his mobile phone, he handed it to her. ‘Dial 9-1-1 and inform the emergency operator that we’re at the Sanguis Christi Fellowship and to send a police car posthaste,’ he instructed.

‘
A police car? I’m thinking an entire military battalion,’ she muttered under her breath.

Caedmon
risked a quick glance out of the window. ‘Given the angle of the shots just fired, I’m fairly certain that our gunman has taken up a position on the outcrop of limestone that overlooks the cottage.’

‘
I can’t get a signal,’ Anala exclaimed angrily as she repeatedly jabbed her index finger against the mobile’s keypad.

‘I suspect
the hilly terrain and stone cottage are the culprit,’ he said, reclipping the useless mobile on to his waistband.

‘
Do you think we could make a run for it?’

‘
Out of the question. The gunman will mow us down before we reach the top of the hill.’

Anala pointedly glanced at the Mossberg. ‘
But you have a loaded shotgun.’

‘
Trust me. Not the best of weapons in a mad dash.’

Just then,
another round of bullets was fired through the shattered window, shearing several chips of cabinetry.