Eric Lustbader - The Testament

Bravo leaned forward, his forearms across the back of the driver's seat. "Except for the few things my father left me, and no one except me had any knowledge of where they were or their significance."

Jenny nodded. "They must be using another method to track you."

"What do I do, then?" Bravo said.

"Keep to the plan. Trust your father. That's all you can do," Uncle Tony said. "Meanwhile, Jenny here has your back."

He accelerated past two cars stuck behind a laboring truck. "Sorry about your dad. He was one of a kind-a great man and the best friend I ever had."

"Thanks," Bravo said, "that means a lot to me."

"I know you were Dexter Shaw's oldest friend inside the Order," Jenny said. "Is that why you're here?"

"And you thought it was to check up on you," Rule said with a not unkind snort. He was a tall, rangy man, with the rough and ruddy skin of an outdoorsman. His hair was going gray at the temples and was brushed forward in the style of a Roman senator. "Well, I don't blame you. Kavanaugh took it into his head to light out after you." A livid scar, slightly raised and ropy, ran down the left side of his jaw like an exclamation mark. "I'd say 'poor Kavanaugh,' if only the bastard had deserved it."

Jenny looked at him for a moment, then turned away to stare out the window.

Rule pursed his lips as if he had just tasted something rotten.

"Kavanaugh made a mistake, let's leave it at that," Bravo said. He had grown increasingly uncomfortable with their occasional verbal slaps, and he meant to put a stop to it. "Right now, what we need most is a lift to Paris. We've got a flight out of Charles de Gaulle at nine p.m. for Venice."

Anthony Rule nodded. "Only too happy to be of service." Though he was in his late fifties, time had been kind to him. He had lost none of the casual good looks that had naturally attracted women all his life. "Bravo, to be honest, Dex's death was a shock to me, but it was hardly a surprise. I think by now you must know what I mean. Dex knew he was marked for death, knew his murder was possible, perhaps even inevitable. That's the brutal nature of our war against the powers of evil and corruption. I wish it could be otherwise, but until the Knights of St. Clement are annihilated, it can't. It's as simple as that."

"It seems to me that an enmity that has survived for centuries would be anything but simple," Bravo said.

"Listen to the expert." Rule shook his head. "Instead of waxing philosophical, you should be concentrating that brilliant mind of yours on how the Knights have been able to keep tabs on you."

"My father-and Jenny's-both believed there was a traitor inside the Haute Cour," Bravo said. "Do you?"

Rule shot a quick glance at Jenny in the rearview mirror. "I see you've been doing your job in other ways as well, kiddo."

Bravo noticed that Jenny had returned from her sullen contemplation of the road. At last, Uncle Tony had her full attention.

"Do you have any idea who the traitor is?" Jenny said.

"That was Dex's obsession," Rule said darkly. "As for me, my attentions are elsewhere. I have no opinion."

They were on the motorway now, heading back to Charles de Gaulle Airport. Rule exited the motorway and, slowing considerably, joined the traffic on the secondary road. He took one of his periodic reads of the cars in the side mirror and made two quick turns. "Okay, we're clean."

They were now on a long, relatively straight stretch of road that was perfect for keeping an eye out for tails.

"They want our secrets, Bravo," Rule continued. "But they especially want one secret-the one your father was guarding with his life."

"But I don't even know what that secret is."

"Of course you don't. Jenny doesn't know what it is, and neither does the majority of the Order. But I do." The entrance to the motorway came up fast on his left. Rule was already in the left lane, but there was a broken-down car blocking the entrance and he zoomed past without being able to get on.

Jenny had already turned her torso half around so that she could look through the rear window.

"What's going on?" Bravo said.

Rule sat a little forward, his body tense. "We've got a problem."

"Picked up another tail." Jenny moved slightly closer to Bravo on the backseat to improve her view. "White Mercedes coupe three cars back."

Rule nodded. "That's the one, but my concern is that it might not be the only one."

"What makes you say that?" Bravo asked.

"The broken-down car that was blocking the motorway entrance," Jenny said.

"It kept us on this road," Rule said. He turned the wheel hard, and the X5 skidded slightly. He pressed the accelerator to the floor, and they were thrown backward into their seats.

"Now we'll really see what this can do," Rule said. "I have a twelve-cylinder engine in here that should let us do everything but take off."

Up ahead, Bravo saw a red Audi move over to the left and accelerate to match their speed.

"It's a box, all right," Jenny called out.

Rule nodded again. "They've got us front and rear. Better fasten your seat belts, children."

He wove in and out of the traffic, cutting his lane-changing within a hairsbreadth of disaster. He was deliberately going faster than the traffic flow, and now it was easy to see the two Knight vehicles-the Audi in front, the Mercedes behind.

All at once, the Audi slowed. Rule stepped on the brakes, skidding slightly, and he shifted down to compensate. An instant later, they were slammed by the Mercedes, and he accelerated directly at the Audi. The Audi, smaller and lighter by far than either the BMW or the Mercedes, skittered to life, staying in front of them.

"This isn't good," Rule said. "I have to assume they want us on this road for a reason."

No sooner had he said this than he saw the semi idling up ahead. Its rear doors gaped open, a steel ramp extending down from it.

"That's why they put us in a box," Rule said. "They want to herd us into the semi."

To their left loomed the off-ramp to the motorway. Rule waited until the last possible instant, then he swerved for it. A gray Renault was lumbering along the exit ramp when the driver saw the BMW X5 on a collision course. The Renault's horn blared furiously even as it slewed out of the way. Rule accelerated up the off-ramp and onto the motorway.

They had lost both the Audi and the Mercedes, but now the BMW was heading the wrong way. Horns sounded and brakes screeched as disbelieving drivers struggled to get out of the way without slamming their vehicles into other cars or the guard rails. Mercifully, there was a breakdown area that Rule used to make a screeching U-turn, pulling out into the disjointed traffic flow before his passengers had a chance to catch their breath.

They were by this time northwest of Chartres, and at the exit for the town of Dreux, Rule cut across the entire motorway to take the off-ramp. As he slowed the X5, he pulled out a cell phone and made a brief call, his voice so low that neither Bravo nor Jenny could hear what he said.

Within six minutes they were in Dreux. It was a small industrial town filled with hulking foundries, refineries, sprawling factories where televisions, boilers and chemicals were manufactured. Not surprisingly, it was an ugly and vaguely depressing place, despite its trees and flower beds. The stern and forbidding Gothic St. Pierre's Church was one of the few surviving medieval buildings to remind those with a sense of history that Dreux had once belonged to the counts of Vexin and the dukes of Normandy.

"All the counts of Vexin were members of the Order in their time," Rule said. "In this way, Dreux still belongs to us. These are my people, I can vouch for every one of them."

They were met outside St. Pierre's by a slim young man in jeans and a T-shirt, whose eyes were completely hidden by a pair of glasses with reflective lenses. Ignoring Bravo and Jenny completely, he exchanged keys with Rule. He went straight to the BMW and drove off.