The Treasures of Saint Germain

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

In typical and by now, expected fashion, the University of Barcelona had quite the multi-layered history. It had moved premises, been closed down, and changed buildings since its construction in the fifteenth century. In a stroke of good luck, though, they found that the Bourbon dynasty had closed the place down during the time Saint Germain had lived, perhaps even at the man’s request. Who knew? The secrets, loaded decisions and inner conspiracies of the ruling classes were as deep and convoluted then as they are right now, from a town crier to a president.

Dahl pushed the minibus through sparse traffic, around sharp bends and down darkened streets as they followed the quickest route. Webb had a good head start. It occurred to Drake that Sabrina Balboni had always known this and intentionally dragged the questioning out, but he couldn’t tell for sure until he met her face to face. The team readied themselves and checked all weapons, seeing the local cops up ahead, their cars waiting in the dark and giving off little reflection.

The building spanned the corner before them, stretching in both directions, its frontage higher than the walls and consisting of three arched entryways and ten arched windows, all dark. Trees swayed softly in front and higher structures to each side brooded in solitude, giving the appearance of watchtowers. The area was quiet, passing cars lending a peaceful and ordinary quality to the scene.

“One thing bugs me,” Kinimaka said. “If Webb now needs Sabrina’s talents to break into these places how did he get into this one?”

“She had time to explain it,” Dahl said, “when they met. And, if they had comms set up, even as we chased them.”

“One snake slithering alongside another,” Alicia said. “You and she might bond well, Bridget.”

Not waiting for clearance, the SPEAR team moved out, seeing no reason not to head straight for the main entrance. The small security unit inside had been alerted, but reported nothing suspicious.

“Remember,” Dahl said. “This man may now have less reach, less influence and less power, but he still has some very clever, influential and extremely resourceful people working for him. Eyes open, guns up.”

The doors were unlocked, the interior darkened. The security unit met them halfway inside, again with shrugs. Spanish comment was passed, and even with no grasp of the language Drake knew they were all drawing blanks.

“Go,” Hayden said and pointed. “Wait outside.”

Argento had passed on Sabrina’s information that Webb was only interested in the library, and the man’s excited knowledge that Germain had studied there at will and convenience throughout his entire life all the languages of the known world and more.

Webb’s words. Probably taken from some ancient script.

Meaning unknown. Drake thought it probably had to do with reading a map or following directions, maybe concocting something from the chemistry directives Webb took from Paris. They ventured carefully down one corridor and then an adjacent one, all the while closing in on the library. Darkness swarmed all around but fled from the soft, muted hallway lamps left on for security. As they closed in on the library door Hayden’s pants pocket began to vibrate.

Holding up a hand, muttering that this was their only contact with the entire enterprise and reasoning that something urgent may have arisen, she quickly answered. “Yeah?”

“Oh, hello. Tyler Webb here. Is that Agent Jaye? Hayden Jaye?”

“Webb!” she hissed involuntarily.

“Oh it is. Excellent. Did the cellphone buzz in your pocket, Hayden? Did you feel me, vibrating through your groin?”

“Oh for fu—”

“Yeah, that was me. Think about it. In any case I have no time for that. Later, no doubt, when I have all the time in the world. If you survive.”

Hayden held back all the words she wanted to say, all the threats she wanted to vent, all the lethal promises she wanted to make. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well, my friends have left a little… care package. A little revenge for stealing my thief.”

“Sabrina set us up!” Kenzie hissed.

“No, no.” Drake hoped she was wrong. “He always knew we’d come.”

“One day,” Hayden breathed into the cell. “Face to face.”

“If not this then that day will be your last, Hayden. Oh and don’t forget — I’m watching you. Always.”

The line died. Silence fell like a ton of lead. Hayden stared at the offending phone and then at her friends and colleagues. “What now?”

Dahl gestured at the library door about ten meters ahead. “We go forward. It’s what we always do.”

He advanced and stepped on something hidden beneath the carpet. An ominous click sounded in the half-darkness, but from the roof above their heads.

Drake knew that sound. “Bomb!” he cried and turned to run.

As one, the team spun and fled, heading away from the library. In retrospect Drake realized they should have bolted in the other direction — Webb would never destroy the treasures of Saint Germain. As the clicks sounded and death neared, he made the fastest and hardest decision of his life.

“Wait!” he screamed above the noise. “We’re going the wrong fucking way!”

“Oh, shit.” Even Dahl vacillated.

Drake took their lives in his hands, grabbed Alicia, and hustled back past the detonation device. As he passed, a deep booming began; a resounding shockwave that stunned his senses and battered his ears. Above, he saw the entire length of the corridor’s ceiling heave up and then collapse back down, swelled and shattered by the blast. He ran faster and lower, pulling Alicia and hearing the rest of the team racing behind.

Straight into the blast.

The corridor’s walls bulged, bowed by the initial convulsion. Wooden panels smashed and shattered, some zipping across the corridor like deadly poisoned darts, passing between the runners and striking their body armor. Drake hid his face as they ran the gauntlet, grunting as objects abused his body.

Then the ceiling started to fall.

Plaster rained down, and concrete blocks. Drake hurdled one. A cloud of dust screened the way ahead.

“Drake!” Alicia cried out, and a heavy lump of masonry crashed down inches from his head. Behind, Smyth shielded Lauren, his arm constantly bombarded by falling shrapnel. Kinimaka plowed through the debris, kicking up almost as much rubble as fell around him. Dahl spun in mid-flight, seeing a descending jagged chunk and knowing instinctively that it would strike Hayden. He caught it momentarily in two hands, still running, then redirected its flight with a quick flick of the wrist. Beau twisted between collapsing curtains of wreckage, struck more times than he’d ever tell. Mai and Kenzie hugged opposite sides of the ruined walls, trusting that there would be no third explosion.

Drake staggered as a thick timber spar glanced off his shoulders, sprawling headlong, then rolling, still keeping up the speed. His body screamed, his nerves alight with pain. Dust filled his nose and eyes. They couldn’t be sure what was happening up ahead and all the walls were destroyed, bristling with serrated wood and rough plasterboard edges. Beau kicked a ragged pole of wood aside. Mai used rubble the size of a boulder to leap off to avoid a hole in the floor. Kinimaka barged aside a cascading heap so the others could move quicker.

Drake gained his feet once more, using Alicia and Dahl as they reached arms down to him. The dust was clearing, the noise all but abated. Ahead, the library door appeared intact.

Dahl kicked it off its hinges, anxious to get out of the plaster dust and smoke and into what should be a safe haven. Quickly the team filed through, coughing and hanging their heads, staring at one another and seeing a ragged crew: white haired, white clothed and holding arms and legs where projectiles had struck.

“We all okay?” Drake panted. “Anyone badly hurt?”

All were fine, and then Hayden’s cell rang again. She held it up so all could see the big screen.

Webb again.

“Don’t answer,” Dahl said. “Keep the bastard guessing.”

“You know,” Smyth said, holding his right arm extremely gingerly. “He could have killed us all back there. Wiped us off the map. What gives?”

“Impossible to say,” Hayden said. “Lack of resources. Not enough time. Mistake. Design. Drake’s quick thinking. My call is that the asshole thinks of this as a game, loves it more than family or power. Gets off on it.”

“You think it gives him a boner?” Alicia wondered.

Drake and Dahl choked simultaneously, and not only on dust. “Jeez, Myles, tone it down to PG 13 wouldya? We don’t need to hear that.”

“It’s what you were thinking.”

Dahl blinked. “No actually, it wasn’t at all.”

“What about you, Yorgi? I bet you were wondering.”

The Russian ignored her, which did the trick and stopped her conjectures.

Hayden pocketed her phone and took a three-sixty gander around the library. Stacks of hardbacks rose from floor to ceiling, all sizes, all colors, with no clear labelling system.

“Whatever he found here,” she said. “Will probably stay secret.”

Drake hated to, but tended to agree. “So that leaves us… fucked. We don’t know what he’s searching for. What he finds. Or why. Or where he’s going to next. Fucked.”

“Not yet.” The words came surprisingly from Lauren. “I do have one idea.”