Lyon withdrew his arm and lowered the weapon. “I hope, for your sake, you can determine the location.”
Ashby stood still.
Lyon aimed the gun his way. “Your turn. Two questions, and I want simple answers. Do you have a direct line of communication to the Americans?”
That was easy. He nodded.
“Do you have a phone with you?”
He nodded again.
“Give me the phone and the number.”
MALONE STOOD WITH SAM, TRYING TO DECIDE ON THE NEXT course of action, when Stephanie’s cell phone sprang to life. She checked the display and said, “Ashby.”
He knew better. “Apparently Lyon wants to talk to you.”
She hit SPEAKER.
“I understand that you are the person in charge,” a male voice said.
“The last time I looked,” Stephanie said.
“You were in London last night?”
“That was me.”
“Did you enjoy the show today?”
“We’ve had great fun chasing after you.”
Lyon chuckled. “It kept you sufficiently occupied so I could deal with Lord Ashby. He is untrustworthy, as I’m sure you’ve discovered.”
“He’s probably thinking the same thing about you at the moment.”
“You should be grateful. I did you a favor. I allowed you to monitor my conversation with Ashby at Westminster. I appeared at the Ripper tour so you could follow. I left the little towers for you to find. I even attacked your agent. What else did you need? But for me, you would have never known that the tower was Ashby’s true target. I assumed you’d find a way to stop it.”
“And if we hadn’t, what would it have mattered? You’d still have your money, off to the next job.”
“I had faith in you.”
“I hope you don’t expect anything for it.”
“Heavens, no. I just didn’t want to see that fool Ashby succeed.”
Malone realized they were witnessing Peter Lyon’s infamous arrogance. It wasn’t enough that he was two steps ahead of his pursuers, he needed to rub that fact in their faces.
“I have another piece of information for you,” Lyon said. “And this one is quite real. No distraction. You see, the French fanatics whom this entire endeavor was to be blamed on had a condition to their involvement. One I never mentioned to Lord Ashby. They are separatists, upset over the unfair treatment they have received at the hands of the French government. They loathe the many oppressive regulations, which they regard as racist. They’re also tired of protesting. Seems it accomplishes little, and several of their mosques have been closed in Paris over the past few years as punishment for their activism. In return for assisting me at the Invalides, they want to make a more poignant statement.”
Malone did not like what he was hearing.
“A suicide bombing is about to occur,” Lyon said.
Chilly fingers caressed Malone’s spine.
“During Christmas services in a Paris church. They thought this fitting, since their houses of worship are being closed every day.”
There were literally hundreds of churches in Paris.
After three duds, it’s hard to take you seriously,” she made clear.
“I see your point, but this one is real. And you can’t rush there with police. The attack would occur before anyone could stop it. In fact, it’s nearly imminent. Only you can prevent it.”
“Bullshit,” Stephanie said. “You’re just buying more time for yourself.”
“Of course I am. But can you afford to gamble that what I’m saying is a lie?”
Malone saw in Stephanie’s eyes what he was thinking, too.
We have no choice.
“Where?” she asked.
Lyon laughed. “Not that easy. It’s going to be a bit of a hunt. Of course, a churchful of people are counting on you making it there in time. Do you have ground transportation?”
“We do.”
“I’ll be in touch shortly.”
She clicked the phone off.
Exasperation swept across her face, then vanished into the confidence that twenty-five years in the intelligence business had bestowed.
She faced Sam. “Go after Henrik.”
Professor Murad had already told them that the Cathédrale de Saint-Denis was Thorvaldsen’s destination.
“Try to keep him under control until we can get there.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. Figure it out.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Malone smiled at his sarcasm. “That’s how I used to say it, too, when she’d cut my tail. You can handle him. Just hold the line, keep things under control.”
“That’s easier said than done with Henrik.”
He laid a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “He likes you. He’s in trouble. Help him.”
SIXTY-SEVEN
ELIZA LAROCQUE WANDERED AROUND HER PARIS APARTMENT and tried to restore order to her chaotic thoughts. She’d already consulted the oracle, asking the specific question, Will my enemies succeed? The answer that her slashes had produced seemed baffling. The prisoner will soon be welcomed home, although he now smarts under the power of his enemies.
What in the world?
Paolo Ambrosi was waiting for her call, ready to act. She wanted Graham Ashby dead, but not before she obtained answers to her many questions. She had to know the extent of Ashby’s betrayal. Only then could she assess the potential damage. Things had changed. The sight of that airplane, powering toward her atop the Eiffel Tower, remained fresh in her thoughts. She also needed to wrestle back control of the hundreds of millions of Paris Club euros that Ashby maintained in his bank.
But today was a holiday. No way to make that happen. She would handle it first thing in the morning.
Way too much trust had been placed in Ashby. And what of Henrik Thorvaldsen? He’d told her that the Americans were aware of all that had happened. Did that mean complete exposure? Was everything in jeopardy? If a connection had been established to Ashby, surely it reached to her?
The phone on the side table rang. Her landline. Few possessed the number besides some friends and senior staff.
And Ashby.
She answered.
“Madame Larocque, I am the man Lord Ashby hired to handle your exhibition this morning.”
She said nothing.
“I’d be cautious, too,” the voice said. “I called to tell you that I have Lord Ashby in my custody. He and I have some unfinished business. After that is completed, I plan to kill him. So rest assured that your debt to him will be satisfied.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I’d like to be able to offer my services to you in the future. I’m aware of who was actually paying the bill. Ashby was merely your agent. This is my way of apologizing for the unfortunate occurrence. Suffice it to say that our British acquaintance lied to me as well. He meant to kill you and your associates, and lay the blame on me. Luckily, no harm came to anyone.”
Not physically, she thought. But there’d been harm.
“No need to speak, madame. Know that the problem will be handled.”
The phone went silent.
ASHBY LISTENED AS PETER LYON TAUNTED LAROCQUE, CHILLED by the words I plan to kill him. Caroline heard the pronouncement, too. Her fear instantly evolved into terror, but he silenced her with a look that seemed to reassure.
Lyon closed the cell phone and smiled. “You wanted her off your back. She’s off. There’s nothing she can do, and she knows it.”
“You underestimate her.”
“Not really. I underestimated you. And that mistake I won’t make again.”
“You don’t have to kill us,” Caroline blurted out.
“That all depends on your level of cooperation.”
“And what’s to stop you from killing us once we fully cooperate?” Ashby asked.
Lyon’s face seemed like that of a chess master, waiting coolly for his opponent’s next move, already knowing his own. “Not a thing. But unfortunately for you both, cooperation is your only option.”