Steve Berry - The Alexandria Link

Adam was running again.

He sprang to his feet and bolted left, rounding a corner and heading straight toward Adam. His target disappeared into another set of glass doors, custom-fit within two elaborate arches and framed by statues.

He made his way to them and stopped outside.

A sign identified the dark space beyond as the chapter house where the monks had once congregated for meetings. Opening the glass door would be foolish. Not enough light to see much on the other side; only windows, two, their definition clear.

He decided to use what he knew.

So he swung open one glass door and kept his body behind the other, which should protect him from any shots.

None came.

A huge tomb filled the center of the towering rectangle.

He searched with his gaze. Nothing. His eyes were drawn to the windows. The right set were shattered, glass strewn across the floor, a rope disappearing upward, being pulled from the outside.

Adam was gone.

Footsteps slapped off stone, and he saw Pam and McCollum running toward him. He stepped out into the gallery and asked McCollum, “What happened to you?”

“Got slammed across the head. Two of them. Up in the choir. I took one out in the church, then they got me.”

“Why are you still breathing?”

“I don’t know, Malone. Why don’t you ask them?”

He did the math. Three down. Two more supposedly accosted McCollum. Five? Yet he’d only seen three.

He leveled the gun he was holding at McCollum. “Those guys break in here, come after us, try to kill me and Pam, but you they whack on the head and leave. A bit much, wouldn’t you say?”

“What’s the point, Malone?”

He fished the locator from his pocket. “They work for you. Here to take us out so you didn’t have to.”

“I assure you, if I wanted you dead you would be.”

“They came straight upstairs to that gift shop. Circled it like buzzards. They knew the geography.” He held up the locator. “And they were tracking us. I killed one upstairs and was damn close to getting the third. Then he just leaves? Strangest assassination squad I’ve ever seen.”

He flicked on the unit and pointed it at McCollum. He changed the setting from mute and a soft pinging indicated that the receiver had found its target.

“They were tracking you. This will tell us for sure.”

“Go for it, Malone. Do what you have to.”

Pam had been standing to the side, silent, and he said to her, “Thought I told you to stay up there.”

“I did until he came. And, Cotton, he does have a nasty bump on the side of his head.”

He wasn’t impressed. “He’s tough enough to take a shot delivered for our benefit by his hired help.”

He aimed the locator at McCollum, but the rhythmic pulse of the beep stayed constant.

“Satisfied?” McCollum asked.

He swung the unit left and right, but the beeping remained unchanged. McCollum was not the source. Pam walked past, studying the inside of the chapter house.

The beeping changed.

McCollum noticed, too.

Malone kept his gun aimed, which told McCollum to stay put. He pointed the unit Pam’s way and the pulse intensified.

She heard it, too, and turned toward him.

He lowered the gun and took two steps closer, still swinging the unit. The pulse weakened, weakened again, then solidified when pointed straight at her.

A look of astonishment came to her face, and she asked, “What is it?”

“They were tracking you. That’s how they found George. You.” Anger surged through him. He tossed the locator down, stuffed the gun in his pocket, and started to pat her down.

“What in the hell are you doing?” she yelled.

She was clearly nervous, but he didn’t spare her feelings.

“Pam, if I have to strip you naked and search every cavity, I’m going to find what’s on you. So tell me where it is.”

Her mind seemed to reel with incomprehension. “Where’s what?”

“Whatever that locator is tracking.”

“The watch,” McCollum said.

He turned. The other man was pointing at Pam’s wrist.

“Has to be. Has a power source and it’s plenty big to accommodate a pinger.”

He grabbed Pam’s wrist and unclasped the watch, which he wrenched free and sent sliding across the gallery floor. He yanked up the locator and pointed. A solid beat signified that the watch was indeed the target. He pointed the unit back at Pam and the pulse subsided.

“Oh, my God,” she muttered. “I got that old man killed.”

MALONE ENTERED THE BUSINESS CENTER FOR THE RITZ FOUR Seasons. They’d left the monastery through the main entrance. Since the doors could be opened from the inside, the portal had offered the quickest way out.

They’d then rounded the building and discovered where Adam and his compatriots had entered. The chapter house’s elegant windows, adorned with old stone tracery, were the only panes not barred. They stood six feet off the ground and faced a darkened side street. Two bushy trees had offered excellent cover for the break-in.

They’d then walked a few blocks east into Belém’s business district and caught a trolley into Lisbon’s center. From there they’d taken a cab north a few miles to the hotel. No one said anything on the trip. Malone remained in a quandary. Where he’d thought McCollum was the threat, the danger turned out to be much closer. But he’d ended any further hunting by tossing the watch into a row of box hedges that lined the cloister garden.

He needed to think.

So they entered one of the business center’s conference rooms and closed the door. A phone and a computer waited on the table, along with pens and paper. He liked that about the Four Seasons. Tell ‘em what you want and you get it.

“Cotton,” Pam said immediately. “That watch was a gift. I told you that. From the man I’ve been seeing.”

He did recall her saying that in London. A TAG. Expensive. He’d been impressed. “Who is he?”

“A lawyer for another firm. Senior partner.”

“How long you two been an item?” It came out as if he cared, but he didn’t.

“A few months. Come on. How could he have possibly known any of this would happen? He gave me that watch weeks ago.”

He wanted to believe her. But wives of agents had been compromised before. He reached for the phone and dialed Atlanta and the Magellan Billet. He told the voice on the other end who he was and what he wanted. He was instructed to hold. Two minutes later a male voice said in his ear, “Cotton, this is Brent Green. Your call has been sent to me.”

“I need to talk with Stephanie.”

“She’s unavailable. Quite a lot is happening here. You’ll have to deal with me.”

“What’s the attorney general doing in the middle of Billet business? You usually stay way back from that.”

“It’s complicated, Cotton. Stephanie has been relieved of her duties, and we’re both in the midst of a battle.”

He wasn’t surprised. “And it all relates to what I’m doing here.”

“Precisely. There are people within this administration who placed your son at risk.”

“Who?”

“We’re not sure. That’s what Stephanie is trying to find out. Can you tell me what’s happening there?”

“We’re having a ball. Just one party after another. Lisbon’s a blast.”

“Any reason why you have to be sarcastic?”

“I can think of a ton of them. But I need you to do something. Check out a man named James McCollum. He says he was army, special forces.” He gave Green a quick physical description. “I need to know if he’s real, and his background.” As he made the request he stared straight at McCollum, but the man never flinched. “What’s happening with Stephanie?”