Destiny

EIGHTY

Using assumed names, Marcus and Alicia checked into the Mercure Hotel at 3 Rue du General Koenig. Marcus asked for a third floor room.

“I have one with a very nice view of the cathedral,” said the balding front desk manager. “How many nights will you be with us?”

“Just one,” Marcus said, paying in cash. They got directions to the room and took the elevator to the third floor. Once in the room, Marcus said, “Don’t turn the lights on yet.”

“Okay,” Alicia stepped inside and stood just beyond the threshold.

Marcus closed the curtains to the three windows overlooking the lighted cathedral. He noticed that the moon was almost full rising above the spires. “The moon’s rising between the steeples on the cathedral. Tomorrow night at this time I guess we will see whatever it is that Father Davon wants to show us.”

“What happens if it’s cloudy?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can I turn on the lights?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think they, whoever they are, do you think they’re out there searching for us?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Why, Paul? Was it something they overheard in the room they bugged?”

“Well, whoever it was, heard a lot more than we wanted them to — we just don’t know who or why.”

“Was it the damn Iranians…the French DGSE, Israelis, the CIA or maybe someone within the Circle of 13? Jonathon Carlson?” Alicia’s anxious laugh got caught in her throat. “Maybe they’re all looking for us.”

“We didn’t ask for the posse.”

“No, we didn’t. Paul, let’s turn the tables even more and look for them.”

“Who do you have in mind?”

“We start with William Chaloner, blood relative to Jonathon Carlson, and we work our way down.” Alicia smiled, opened her laptop, logged on, and began hacking though layers of coding.

“I’ll pick up dinners-to-go and gallons of French roast coffee.” Marcus stepped out of the room and walked to the end of the hallway. He stood in an alcove and used Taheera’s phone to call the Iranians. Rahim answered on the second ring. Marcus said, “Your tech people now know that what I did has effectively stopped the Myrtus threat.”

“Why are you calling, Mr. Marcus?”

“I want to see Brandi Hirsch on a damn airplane like we agreed. I have a flash drive that is the key, the lock and key, which must be inserted in your system to extend the Myrtus shutdown indefinitely.”

“No! I don’t like what I am hearing from you.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you like. This is the way it goes down, Rahim. I’ll hand the drive — the key — to you after Brandi’s on the plane home.”

“I will speak to those higher than me, and we shall do the exchange — the final exchange. I assure you, our president hates games.”

“You want your nuclear reactors to melt down? If Brandi’s not released, your end game will be hell on earth.”

“Expect my call very soon.”

Six hours later, long after they’d eaten food in their room, Alicia looked up from her laptop. “Carlson may be a smart businessman, but he’s not the most tech savvy.”

“How so?”

“I’ve accessed his iPhone and iPad. His password is Circle M Ranch. That’s the name of his Texas property. The M is significant because it’s the thirteenth letter in the alphabet, as in Circle of 13.”

“Now that you’re inside, you can monitor everything he sends and receives.”

“Carlson has very little in the way of email, at least on the hard-drive I’m camped on at the moment.” She read silently. “But, what he does have speaks volumes.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look at this.”

Marcus leaned in to view the screen. Alicia said, “Carlson received an email from someone called watchdog@senate.org. It reads: ‘Looks like 51–49 will go. Took a lot of arm-twisting. House should be no problem. WD.’” Alicia looked up at Marcus. “I’m betting ol’ WD, AKA Watch Dog, is the illustrious senator, Wyatt Dirkson.”

“Carlson responded, he said: ‘Good news. The bad news is the target has more info than we thought on k junior. Don’t know his intentions. He’s digging up skeletons. And he’s seeking the object — still valuable in that regard. We can file treason charges — or quietly resolve the issue. Members to convene — DC location. Tuesday, 9 a.m.’”

Alicia said, “He’s talking about you — or us. Treason charges. That asshole! Quietly resolve, as in put a bullet through our heads. I’m used to hacking and finding out these kind of threats and complicity about other people…but now we’re in the crosshairs.”

“K junior no doubt is John Kennedy Junior. Object is probably the spear. Carlson wants it like his grandfather wanted it.”

“The last person to have touched it, we think, was Philippe Fournier. He may have taken it to Rome.”

Marcus shut out the lights and stepped over to one of the windows. He opened the curtains. From the top floor of the hotel, the view of Chartres Cathedral was breathtaking. The moon overhead was plump and oozing radiance, pale light settling over the back of the ancient cathedral like a pastel shawl. Marcus said, “Or maybe it’s in there. I’m hoping that whatever Father Davon wants to show us will help point the way.”