How could he have forgotten? He didn’t need to get up and run anywhere. He’d hidden several pistols around the house, all of which contained full magazines and one in the chamber. And best of all, one of them was stashed in a drawer mere inches from his hand.
The only thing left to do now was distract the man a minute longer. Play to his ego. “How did you manage to stay hidden after coming out? I have a source in Israel, and he told us you were never found.”
“We knew the order had tentacles across the globe, including the United States government. Although we couldn’t be sure, we knew they probably had one or more people in the Israeli government as well. We first contacted those at the highest levels of the Israeli government, people we knew we could trust.”
“So the meetings that followed were all for show?” Roger lowered his hand off the desk.
“Precisely.”
“And the searches?” Roger moved his hand to the third drawer down and grasped the handle.
“The searches were mostly for show, although the investigators did use the time to gather some evidence.”
Lawson pulled the drawer open slowly, careful not to make a noise. “Were you there with them?”
The man shook his head. “While the others were at Mount Hermon, we began the true investigation — the hunt for you. I have to give credit where credit is due. Your alias is good. Not good enough, but still one of the best we’ve ever seen.”
Roger closed his hand around the grip of the pistol resting in the drawer. The longhaired buffoon was gloating, but the gloating — as well as his life — was about to come to an end. With cat-like quickness, Roger whipped out the gun. Before he could pull the trigger, a muzzle flashed across the room.
Roger grabbed his chest, his pistol falling to the floor. He hadn’t been hit in the heart, but it was close enough. He’d bleed to death in a matter of minutes.
“Oh, those guns you placed around the house… We emptied most of them, but I left two bullets in that one. My associates told me to empty them all, but I wanted to see just how far you’d take this, Roger. Not only that, but I believe in a fair fight.” He held up his pistol. “I only had one in mine.”
Roger leaned forward, the life draining out of him. As darkness fell, two thoughts flashed through his mind:
Kimberly was arriving in the morning.
And he wouldn’t be there to see her.
CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
After the doors slid shut, the old elevator rattled toward the upper floors. Zane stood at the back, surveying the others. Carmen, Amanda, and Pratt still mourned the loss of their teammate, Connor Reid. Despite the passage of time, his death still hurt deeply. Not only had they lost someone of valor and strength, they had lost a good friend.
But tonight, he hoped they’d find a way to push aside the pain. After the funeral, Jonas Stegmann had invited them back for a gala in their honor in Rome. The Swiss Guard wanted to thank them for their assistance in retrieving the relic, which they’d retrieved from Roger Lawson’s villa in Palermo. At first, Zane had been hesitant to accept. After all, they were simply doing their jobs. But in the end, he realized they couldn’t decline such a gracious offer.
Emily leaned against her father, one arm wrapped tightly around his waist. He smiled at the gesture. No one was going to take Emily’s father away again. Ever.
Feeling a brush on his shoulder, Zane looked at Keiko on his right. Feeling his eyes, she turned and met his gaze. Zane lifted an arm and draped it across her shoulder. She winked at him then faced forward again.
The elevator doors slid open on the third floor. Two Swiss Guards wearing official regalia flanked a doorway across a narrow corridor. Some probably thought the multi-colored stripes were a bit over the top, but Zane couldn’t think of a more welcome sight. Both men snapped to attention as the group crossed the corridor and entered.
Carmen looked around the ballroom as they entered. “Looks like the Pope spared no expense.”
Dozens of people mingled among tables adorned with fine white linens, candles, and trays of hors d’oeuvres. Among those attending were Swiss Guards, a few priests, several nuns, and an assortment of others in suits and dresses. To the left, a chamber orchestra graced the room with Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons.
“It’s my understanding the Pontiff doesn’t even know about the event,” Zane said. “Stegmann told me he paid for it out of their discretionary budget and kept his mouth shut.”
A thin server appeared in front of them, a tray balanced in one hand. “Champagne?”
“Ladies?” Zane gestured toward the drinks.
Carmen, Amanda, and Emily all lifted flutes, followed by the men.
“Ah, they finally made it,” said a familiar voice.
Zane turned to see Jonas Stegmann and Father Fiori coming toward them.
“My apologies,” Zane said. “You, of all people, know what Rome traffic is like on a Friday night.”
Carmen shook her head. “Don’t listen to him. He’s covering for us. We ladies took a bit too long getting ready.”
“I was only joking. You’re not late at all.” Stegmann gestured toward the man at his side. “I believe you remember Father Fiori.”
“I do indeed.” Zane shook the priest’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
“The pleasure is all mine.”
After introductions were made, Pratt led the Paulings off for some hors d'oeuvres. Keiko followed.
Once they were gone, Father Fiori turned to Zane. “I want to personally thank you for bringing back our piece.”
Zane bowed slightly. “It was our pleasure.”
“And the world thanks you for taking down such a dangerous man,” Stegmann added. “Or should I say men.”
“I think we all know this was a team effort,” Zane said.
His statement couldn’t have been truer. The Americans, the Vatican, and the Israelis had all come together to hunt down Roger Lawson. The Swiss Guard and the Israelis began by gathering as many images of the Australian as possible. Then they loaded those images into software capable of searching CCTV feeds across the globe. Two days later, Stegmann was awakened after midnight. His lead investigator wanted him to view a short video taken in Split, Croatia. It was a thirty-six percent match, enough to come up on their radar. At the beginning of the feed, a man wearing a baseball cap could be seen walking through the port authority in Split, flanked by two men. As he was about to pass out of range, he lifted his head. In that fleeting second, the software had been able to match a couple of features, including the unique shape of his nose. To be sure, it seemed an odd place for Lawson to surface. Then again, Croatia was certainly in the range of places Lawson could’ve traveled to.
Despite the matching features, Stegmann hadn’t been convinced the man in the video was Roger Lawson. On a whim, he forwarded the file to Zane, who was still chasing leads in the field. It paid immediate dividends. While Zane couldn’t see enough of the man to verify it was Lawson, he remembered the face of one of the men at his side.
Unfortunately, the trail grew cold from there. None of the boats legally docked in Split were owned by the Australian. Stegmann thought he might have traveled there with someone else, but there was no evidence of that either. At some point along the way, Zane began to consider the possibility of an alias and asked Brett Foster to take a second look at the list of boat owners docked at Split. Brett’s search soon produced a suspicious name: Peter Rust of Perth, Australia. While Rust seemed to be connected to a number of documents supporting his identity, none seemed to date back more than a few years.