The 13 th tribe

[28]

Jagger held RoboHand against his chest, hoping the electric-shock feeling in his elbow, biceps, and shoulder would fade quickly. He beat against the door with his fist. “Open up!”

Yeah, that would happen after they hit him with a bat to get the thing closed. Oh, I’m sorry, sir, didn’t see you there.

He ran to the edge of the tier and dropped down, crossed the court, and swung himself down to the lowest level. Tourists crowded at the corner. They gawked, pointed, snapped pictures. He pushed through them, heading for the main entrance, mentally working through the logistics of where he needed to go. The small door was near the monastery’s back wall. It would have to lead into the Southwest Range Building, on the side that housed the monks’ quarters.

Inside, he passed in front of the basilica on his way to the stairs near his apartment, which would take him to the Southwest Range Building second floor and main entrance. He turned right around the mosque and spotted Father Leo heading for him. The monk’s worried expression quickly turned charming.

“What just happened?” Jagger said, closing the ground between them. “Who was that? Why was I told that door had been bricked up?”

When he angled himself to walk by without stopping, Leo sidestepped to block him. Jagger pulled up inches from him, encroaching on what the average person considered his personal space. He’d found the tactic rattled people, just enough to give him a slight advantage in a verbal confrontation. Leo didn’t seem to notice. Close to the same age, the two men couldn’t have been more different. Where Jagger’s inner being was a raging river, Leo gave the impression that his was a peaceful lake. It was a quality Jagger admired and hoped to attain someday. He just wasn’t sure it was a disposition that could survive outside a monastery.

“What’s going on?” Jagger said.

“Monastery business.” Leo’s irises flicked back and forth, searching Jagger’s eyes for… what? His temperament? Signs of his intentions?

“I’m head of security and-”

“Of the excavation,” Leo clarified.

“When Gheronda allowed my family to stay here, it was my understanding that he would appreciate my assistance in monastery security as well.”

“You’re here at Gheronda’s pleasure,” Leo said, maintaining that infuriating little smile of his, “and right now his pleasure is to keep monastery business private. I’m afraid this is a need-to-know matter, and you don’t need to know.”

“Look, within three hours, two helicopters violated restrictions governing their use around St. Catherine’s, and some guy is up on that mountain keeping an eye on this place with binoculars. I think-”

“What guy?” Leo blinked several times, the only indication that something had disturbed the surface of his lake.

“A teenager, the same one who buzzed the compound this morning. He seemed particularly interested in that last copter.”

“Where was he, exactly?”

Jagger took a step back. Maybe he was getting somewhere. “Where he could scope out the excavation and the monastery. He was watching.. all of it, as far as I could tell.”

“You didn’t see anyone else?”

“Not with the boy. You know him?”

“I didn’t see him.” His gaze drifted away. Then it returned, and he put his hand on Jagger’s shoulder to guide him back toward the gate.

Jagger didn’t resist. He didn’t like it, but Leo was right: he was out of his jurisdiction. If push came to shove, the monastery could shove him and the entire archeological team out of the valley, probably out of the country.

Leo said, “We appreciate your concern, Jagger, we really do. But I can assure you, this has nothing to do with the excavation, and we have everything within these walls under control. Please trust me about this.”

“Just tell me who he is, the man who entered through the small door.”

Leo shook his head. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Is he all right?” Jagger said, fishing now. Often, a little information led to more. “He was injured.”

“He’ll be fine.”

Jagger stopped. “How can you know that? As soon as the guy got in, you must have run to cut me off.”

“He made it this far.”

“From where? Why here?”

The monk’s face was inscrutable.

Jagger nodded. “I can find my own way out.” He smiled. “I’ve been thrown out of nicer places than this.”

Leo’s smile grew into a grin. He nodded, then turned and walked away.

On his way to the gate, Jagger considered the conversation and came to a conclusion about it: whether by Leo’s charisma or his steely resolve, Jagger was pretty sure he’d just been played.