The Alexandria Link

FORTY-TWO

VIENNA, AUSTRIA

10:50 AM

ALFRED HERMANN BID HIS GOODBYES TO THE POLITICAL Committee and excused himself from the dining room. He’d been told that his special guest had finally arrived.

He navigated the ground-floor corridors and entered the château’s spacious foyer just as Henrik Thorvaldsen shuffled in from outside. He slipped a smile onto his face and said in English, “Henrik. So wonderful to see you.”

Thorvaldsen also smiled as he spotted his host. “Alfred. I wasn’t going to come, but I decided I simply had to visit with everyone.”

Hermann approached and shook hands. Forty years he’d known Thorvaldsen and the Dane had changed little. The stiff, crooked spine had always been there, bent at a grotesque angle like a piece of hammered tin. He’d always admired Thorvaldsen’s disciplined emotions, which stayed studied, mannered, as if he were running through a memorized program. And that required talent. But Thorvaldsen was a Jew. Not devout or overt, but still Hebrew. Even worse, he was Cotton Malone’s close friend, and Hermann was convinced that Thorvaldsen had not come to the Assembly to socialize.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Hermann said. “I have much to talk to you about.”

They often spent time together at the Assembly. Thorvaldsen was one of the few members whose fortune could compete with the Hermanns‘. He was deeply connected to most European governments, and his billions of euros spoke for themselves.

A twinkle appeared in the Dane’s eyes. “I’m anxious to hear it all.”

“And who is this?” Hermann asked, motioning to the young lad standing beside Thorvaldsen.

“Gary Malone. He’s with me for a few weeks while his father is away and I decided to bring him.”

Fascinating. Thorvaldsen was testing him. “Wonderful. There are a few other young people who have come with members. I’ll see to it that they are all properly entertained.”

“As I knew you would.”

Stewards entered with luggage. Hermann motioned and the bags were hauled to the second floor. He’d already designated which bedchamber Thorvaldsen would occupy.

“Come, Henrik. To my study while your belongings are situated. Margarete is anxious to see you.”

“But I have Gary.”

“Bring him. It’ll be fine.”

MALONE ATE HIS BREAKFAST AND TRIED TO ASSESS JIMMY McCollum, though he seriously wondered whether that was the man’s real name.

“You going to tell me what your interest in all this is?” McCollum asked. “The Library of Alexandria isn’t exactly the Holy Grail. Others have looked, but they’re usually fanatics or kooks. You don’t look like either.”

“Neither do you,” Pam said. “What’s your interest?”

“What happened to your shoulder?”

“Who said anything did?”

McCollum scooped a forkful of eggs into his mouth. “You’ve been cradling it like it’s broken.”

“Maybe it is.”

“Okay, you’re not going to tell me.” McCollum faced Malone. “Lot of mistrust here for a person who saved both your asses.”

“She asked a good question. What’s your interest in the library?”

“Let’s just say that if I were to find something, there are people who would reward my efforts in a great many ways. Personally, I think it’s a waste of time. But I do have to wonder why men are killing each other. Somebody knows something.”

Malone decided to cast a little bait into the water. “The hero’s quest you mentioned. I know about it. Clues that lead the way to the library.” He paused. “Supposedly.”

“Oh, they do. Believe me. Others have been. I’ve never met or talked to one of them, but I’ve heard about the experience. The hero’s quest is real, as are the Guardians.”

Another key word. This man was well informed. Malone turned his attention back to an English muffin, which he lathered with plum jam. “What can we do for each other?”

“How about you tell me why you went to Bainbridge Hall?”

“The Epiphany of St. Jerome.”

“Now, that’s a new one. Care to explain?”

“Where you from?” Malone suddenly asked.

McCollum chuckled. “You still sizing me up? Okay, I’ll play along. Born in the great state of Kentucky. Louisville. And before you ask, no college. Army. Special forces.”

“Like, if I check I’m going to find a recruit named Jimmy McCollum? Time for you to get real.”

“Hate to tell you, but I have a passport and a birth certificate and you’ll find my name there. Did my stint. Honorable discharge. But does all that really matter? Seems the only thing that counts is here and now.”

“What are you after?” Malone asked.

“I’m hoping there’s plenty there when this library is found, though I still don’t know your interest.”

“This quest might prove a challenge.”

“Now, that’s the first thing you’ve said that makes sense.”

“I mean, there are others who might be looking, too.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

“How about the Israelis?”

He caught a moment of puzzlement in McCollum’s lively eyes, then clarity returned, along with a smile. “I do love a challenge.”

Time to reel him in. “We have The Epiphany of St. Jerome.”

“Lot of good that’ll do if you don’t know its significance.”

Malone agreed.

“I have the hero’s quest,” McCollum said.

That revelation grabbed Malone’s attention, especially since George Haddad had not left them the details of that journey.

“What I want to know is,” McCollum said, “is do you have Thomas Bainbridge’s novel?”

Pam was still eating, working on some fruit and yogurt. She certainly knew the first rule of lawyering-never reveal what you know-but he decided that to receive he was going to have to give. “I do.” Then to tantalize his listener, he added, “And more.”

McCollum scrunched his face in admiration. “I knew I’d chosen well when I decided to save your hide.”

HERMANN WATCHED AS THORVALDSEN AND HIS YOUNG WARD left his study. Margarete stood beside him. They’d had a pleasant thirty-minute visit.

“Your thoughts?” he asked his daughter.

“Henrik was his usual self. Taking in far more than he gives.”

“That’s his nature, as it is mine.” And it should be yours, too, he thought. “Sense anything?”

She shook her head.

“Nothing about the boy?” he asked.

“He seemed well mannered.”

He decided to tell her some of what she did not know. “Henrik is peripherally involved with an initiative the Circle is presently pursuing. It’s critical to what we discussed at breakfast.”

“The Library of Alexandria?”

He nodded. “One of his close associates, a man named Cotton Malone, is part of what’s happening.”

“Sabre running the operation?”

“Quite well. Everything is going as planned.”

“The boy is named Malone. He part of it, too?”

“Cotton Malone’s son.”

Her face showed surprise. “Why is he here?”

“Actually, that was smart on Henrik’s part. With members present, we’ll all be on our best behavior. This could be the safest place for them both. Of course, accidents sometimes happen.”

“You’d hurt the boy?”

He stared hard. “I’ll do what’s necessary to protect our interests. As you should be willing to do.”

She said nothing and he allowed her a moment. Finally she said, “Do we need an accident to happen?”

He was glad she was beginning to appreciate the gravity. “Depends on what our dear friend Henrik has in mind.”

“HOW’D YOU GET THAT NAME?” MCCOLLUM ASKED. “COTTON.”

“Actually it’s quite-,” Pam began.

Malone cut her off. “Long story. We can discuss it another time. Right now, I want to know about the hero’s quest.”

“You always that touchy about your name?”

“What I’m touchy about is wasted time.”

McCollum was finishing a plate of fruit. He noticed that the man ate healthy. Oatmeal, strawberries, eggs, juice.

“Okay, Malone. I have the quest. I retrieved it from an invitee who died before going.”

“Your doing?”

“Not this time. Natural causes. I found him and I stole the quest. Don’t ask me who, because I’m not telling. But I have the clues.”

“And do you know if they’re real?”

McCollum chuckled. “In my business you never know that until you get there. But I’ll take my chances.”

“What do you really need?” Pam asked. She’d stayed uncharacteristically quiet during breakfast. “Obviously you know more than we do. Why waste your time with us?”

“To be honest, I have a problem. For the past few weeks I’ve wrestled with the quest. It’s a riddle. One I can’t solve. I thought you two might be of some help. In return, I’m willing to share what I know.”

“And you’re willing to shoot two men in the head,” Malone said.

“They would have done the same to you. Which, by the way, ought to give you pause. Who’d want to do that?”

An excellent question, Malone thought. No one had followed them from London, of that he was sure. It made no sense that killers would be waiting for them at Bainbridge Hall. He’d only decided to visit there a few hours ago.

“This quest,” McCollum said, “has a lot more to it than I first thought. Now you tell me the Jews are also involved.”

“A friend of mine was killed yesterday, which should end Israel’s interest.”

“This friend know anything about the library?”

“It’s what got him killed.”

“He’s not the first.”

He needed to know something. “I assume you’d want to peddle the found manuscripts to dealers?”

McCollum shrugged. “I want to profit for my trouble. That bother you?”

“If the manuscripts still exist, they would need to be preserved and studied.”

“I’m not greedy, Malone. Surely somewhere in the find would be a few scraps I could sell for my trouble.” McCollum paused. “Along with credit for the find, of course. That would be worth something all by itself.”

“Fame and fortune,” Pam said.

“The time-immemorial reward,” McCollum said. “They both have their satisfying aspects.”

He’d heard enough. “Tell us the clues.”

McCollum sat before them, aloof as a deity, mischievous as a demon. This one bore watching. He killed far too easily. But if he possessed the hero’s quest, then he might be their only path forward.

McCollum reached into his pocket and produced a slip of paper. “That’s how it starts off.”

Malone accepted the note-sized sheet and read.

How strange are the manuscripts, great traveler of the unknown. They appear separately, but seem as one to those who know that the colors of the rainbow become a single white light. How to find that single ray? It is a mystery, but visit the chapel beside the Tejo, in Bethlehem, dedicated to our patron saint.

“Where’s the rest?” he asked.

McCollum chuckled. “Figure this part out, then we’ll see. One step at a time.”

Malone stood.

“Where you going?” McCollum asked.

“To earn my keep.”