Steve Berry - The Alexandria Link

McCollum scrunched his face in admiration. “I knew I’d chosen well when I decided to save your hide.”

HERMANN WATCHED AS THORVALDSEN AND HIS YOUNG WARD left his study. Margarete stood beside him. They’d had a pleasant thirty-minute visit.

“Your thoughts?” he asked his daughter.

“Henrik was his usual self. Taking in far more than he gives.”

“That’s his nature, as it is mine.” And it should be yours, too, he thought. “Sense anything?”

She shook her head.

“Nothing about the boy?” he asked.

“He seemed well mannered.”

He decided to tell her some of what she did not know. “Henrik is peripherally involved with an initiative the Circle is presently pursuing. It’s critical to what we discussed at breakfast.”

“The Library of Alexandria?”

He nodded. “One of his close associates, a man named Cotton Malone, is part of what’s happening.”

“Sabre running the operation?”

“Quite well. Everything is going as planned.”

“The boy is named Malone. He part of it, too?”

“Cotton Malone’s son.”

Her face showed surprise. “Why is he here?”

“Actually, that was smart on Henrik’s part. With members present, we’ll all be on our best behavior. This could be the safest place for them both. Of course, accidents sometimes happen.”

“You’d hurt the boy?”

He stared hard. “I’ll do what’s necessary to protect our interests. As you should be willing to do.”

She said nothing and he allowed her a moment. Finally she said, “Do we need an accident to happen?”

He was glad she was beginning to appreciate the gravity. “Depends on what our dear friend Henrik has in mind.”

“HOW’D YOU GET THAT NAME?” MCCOLLUM ASKED. “COTTON.”

“Actually it’s quite-,” Pam began.

Malone cut her off. “Long story. We can discuss it another time. Right now, I want to know about the hero’s quest.”

“You always that touchy about your name?”

“What I’m touchy about is wasted time.”

McCollum was finishing a plate of fruit. He noticed that the man ate healthy. Oatmeal, strawberries, eggs, juice.

“Okay, Malone. I have the quest. I retrieved it from an invitee who died before going.”

“Your doing?”

“Not this time. Natural causes. I found him and I stole the quest. Don’t ask me who, because I’m not telling. But I have the clues.”

“And do you know if they’re real?”

McCollum chuckled. “In my business you never know that until you get there. But I’ll take my chances.”

“What do you really need?” Pam asked. She’d stayed uncharacteristically quiet during breakfast. “Obviously you know more than we do. Why waste your time with us?”

“To be honest, I have a problem. For the past few weeks I’ve wrestled with the quest. It’s a riddle. One I can’t solve. I thought you two might be of some help. In return, I’m willing to share what I know.”

“And you’re willing to shoot two men in the head,” Malone said.

“They would have done the same to you. Which, by the way, ought to give you pause. Who’d want to do that?”

An excellent question, Malone thought. No one had followed them from London, of that he was sure. It made no sense that killers would be waiting for them at Bainbridge Hall. He’d only decided to visit there a few hours ago.

“This quest,” McCollum said, “has a lot more to it than I first thought. Now you tell me the Jews are also involved.”

“A friend of mine was killed yesterday, which should end Israel’s interest.”

“This friend know anything about the library?”

“It’s what got him killed.”

“He’s not the first.”

He needed to know something. “I assume you’d want to peddle the found manuscripts to dealers?”

McCollum shrugged. “I want to profit for my trouble. That bother you?”

“If the manuscripts still exist, they would need to be preserved and studied.”

“I’m not greedy, Malone. Surely somewhere in the find would be a few scraps I could sell for my trouble.” McCollum paused. “Along with credit for the find, of course. That would be worth something all by itself.”

“Fame and fortune,” Pam said.

“The time-immemorial reward,” McCollum said. “They both have their satisfying aspects.”

He’d heard enough. “Tell us the clues.”

McCollum sat before them, aloof as a deity, mischievous as a demon. This one bore watching. He killed far too easily. But if he possessed the hero’s quest, then he might be their only path forward.

McCollum reached into his pocket and produced a slip of paper. “That’s how it starts off.”

Malone accepted the note-sized sheet and read.

How strange are the manuscripts, great traveler of the unknown. They appear separately, but seem as one to those who know that the colors of the rainbow become a single white light. How to find that single ray? It is a mystery, but visit the chapel beside the Tejo, in Bethlehem, dedicated to our patron saint.

“Where’s the rest?” he asked.

McCollum chuckled. “Figure this part out, then we’ll see. One step at a time.”

Malone stood.

“Where you going?” McCollum asked.

“To earn my keep.”

WASHINGTON, DC

5:30 AM

STEPHANIE HAD FACED MANY THINGS, BUT NEVER ARREST. Larry Daley was upping the ante.

“We need to strike at Daley now,” she made clear.

She, Green, and Cassiopeia were standing in Green’s kitchen, coffee brewing on the counter. The aroma reminded her that she was hungry.

“What do you have in mind?” Cassiopeia asked.

Not once in twelve years had she compromised the Billet’s security. She took her oath to heart. But an abyss of doubt made her unsure of what to do next. She finally decided there was but one option and said, “We were investigating Daley.”

A new earnestness swept over Green’s face. “Explain.”

“I wanted to know what made the man tick, so I assigned an agent to find out. She worked him, off and on, for nearly a year. I learned a lot.”

“You continue to amaze me, Stephanie. Do you know what would have happened if he’d found out?”

“Guess I would have been fired, so what does it matter now?”

“He’s trying to kill you. Perhaps he does know.”

“I doubt it. She was good. But Daley is up to his eyeballs in trouble. You said earlier that you never found any violations of law. I did. Lots of them. Campaign finance, bribery, fraud. Daley’s the pipeline for what people of means need from the White House, people who don’t want their names on disclosure forms.”

“Why didn’t you move on him?”

“I was planning to-then this leak occurred. It had to wait.”

“And now that he’s in charge of the Magellan Billet, will he find out what you did?” Cassiopeia asked.

She shook her head. “I have all the information locked away, and the agent who handled the investigation transferred from the Billet months ago. No one other than she and I knew.”

Green poured coffee into two mugs. “What do you want to do?”

“Since I have my friend here, who possesses a multitude of skills, I thought we’d finish the investigation.”

“I don’t like the sound of that,” Cassiopeia said.

Green motioned. “You ladies add what you like to your coffee.”

“None for you?” Stephanie asked.

“Never drink it.”

“Then why do you have a coffeemaker?”

“I do have guests.” He paused. “Occasionally.”

Green’s solidity, his masculine dependability, yielded for an instant to a boyish sincerity, and she liked it.