The Last Templar

Chapter 65

After reaching in and yanking the keys out of the ignition, Reilly walked around the truck and surveyed the damage. They had gotten off lightly. Apart from some bruising and the throbbing pain in his left leg, all three of them had nothing more than cuts and grazes, and, while the Toyota was heavily dented and pockmarked, he was impressed by how well it had held up.

Vance's door creaked open and the professor and Tess emerged from the truck. Reilly could see that both she and Vance looked badly shaken. He had expected it in Tess, but not in Vance. Was I wrong about him? He studied the man's eyes and saw, mirrored in them, the same uncertainty that was gnawing at him. He's as surprised as I am. He wasn't expecting this. It confirmed something that felt wrong from the moment he'd first laid eyes on the professor, out on the lake. The first shot that had taken out the big Turk henchman had also triggered an alarm inside Reilly's mind.

Vance didn't kill the other horsemen. Someone else is after this thing.

The thought bothered Reilly. This was a complication he would have been happier without.

Although the possibility of an "overseer" had been considered when the dead horsemen started popping up, it had been discounted long ago. Everything seemed to be pointing to Vance eliminating his accomplices; he seemed to be running his own show. The shots at the lake tore right through that theory. Someone else was involved, but who? Who else knew what Vance had been after and, more to the point, was more than willing to murder several people to get to it?

Vance turned to Tess. "The astrolabe . . . ?"

Tess nodded as if emerging from a haze. "It's safe," she assured him. She reached into the cabin and brought the instrument out. Vance stared at it and nodded his head approvingly, then lifted his gaze up at the ridge they'd just scurried down. Reilly watched him quietly contemplate the deserted mountains around them. He thought he spotted resignation in the professor's eyes, but they quickly turned insolent and blazed with unsettling determination.

"What went on back there?" Tess joined Reilly.

He glanced away from the professor. "You okay?" he asked, checking out a small graze on her forehead.

"I'm fine," she winced before looking up at the tree line surrounding them like a huge fence. The mountains were eerily quiet, especially after the fury that had engulfed them minutes earlier. "What the hell's going on? Who do you think is out there?"

Reilly studied the trees. There was no sign of life. "I don't know."

"Oh, I can think of a lot of people who wouldn't want something like this to come out," Vance countered. He turned to face them, a satisfied smirk crossing his lips. "They're obviously getting nervous—which means we must be close."

"I'll feel better once we put a few miles between us." He gestured toward the pickup. "Come on."

He ushered Vance and Tess into the truck.

With Tess squeezed between the two men, Reilly shoved the car into gear and the battered Toyota edged down the slope, its occupants lost in silent contemplation of what lay ahead.

* * *

The second he saw the pickup charge out of the small compound and race down the dirt track, De Angelis regretted putting the Land Cruiser sideways across the dirt path to block any eventual escape. The jarring din of the truck plowing into their car didn't augur well, and now the sight of the big SUV's pulverized right fender and front grille confirmed his worst fears.

He didn't need Plunkett's confirmation to know that the car wasn't going anywhere. He yanked the rear hatch open and rummaged through their gear, retrieving the GPS monitor and angrily flicking it on. The cursor blinked, displaying no movement. The tracker was stationary. De Angelis scowled at the small screen as he recognized the coordinates as those of Rustem's compound and realized that the tracker must still be on the bag in Reilly and Tess's stranded Pajero.

He'd have to find another way of locating them, which wouldn't be easy in this forested, mountainous terrain.

The monsignor discarded the monitor and turned to face the lake, fuming at the turn of events. He knew he couldn't really blame Plunkett for their dismal situation. He realized something else was at work.

Hubris.

He had been too confident.

The sin of pride. Something else for the confessional.

"Their SUV. It's still at the compound. Maybe we can use it." Plunkett was holding the big rifle, edging away from the Land Cruiser, raring to go.

De Angelis didn't move a muscle. He just stood there calmly, staring at the glassy surface of the lake.

"First things first. Hand me the radio."