John Lyman - House of Acerbi

“She’s in Israel, a guest of the Mossad. We’re keeping her existence a closely guarded secret. We’re pretty sure Acerbi believes that she died with the others in the hangar explosion, and we want him to keep thinking that. Understandably, she’s having a hard time trusting anyone, but I heard she started opening up to one of our female operatives after we offered her immunity. From what we’ve gathered, she knows all the inner workings of his organization. Apparently they had been friends since childhood. That kind of betrayal creates the worst kind of enemies. It looks like his plan wasn’t so perfect after all. I only wish we could take you all back to Israel with us.”

“You and I both know Israel is the first place they’ll come looking for us. We’ll be safe here. Mendoza and his Cathar friends have made arrangements for us to stay in some old cabins that were built in the Pyrenees during World War II. The French Resistance used them to hide downed Allied airmen from the Nazis during the war.”

“Don’t tell me anything else, Professor. Operational security, remember.” Ben winked.

“If I can’t trust Danny Zamir’s son, then who can I trust?” Lev laughed and clapped the young soldier on the shoulder. “Tell your father that I said hello and that I’ll be seeing him again someday soon. We’ll defeat this Acerbi guy somehow … even if it’s the last thing I do.”

Ben turned and walked back up into the aircraft. He was waving as the ramp lifted into place and the big jet trundled into position before its shrieking engines pushed it down the runway and into a dark sky.

The little group shivered in the early morning darkness as they stood beside the cars.

“Has anyone spoken with Eduardo?” Mendoza asked.

“No, I didn’t think it would be a good idea,” Lev said. “I’m still not sure about him.”

“I hate to say it, Professor, but you’re probably right. When you think about it, we can’t afford to trust anyone right now. If they find us we’ll be locked away, and Acerbi’s people would undoubtedly be the ones holding the key. I have a feeling none of us would live long in jail.”

Mendoza turned to Leo. “What about your friend Morelli?”

“I used the satellite phone to speak with him before we left the states. He said that, publicly, I’ve been stripped of my title. I’m no longer a cardinal, but at least the pope is refusing to excommunicate me until a full investigation is completed. For now, it appears that I’m even cut off from my own church.”

Evita saw the lines of sadness etching Leo’s face. Here was a man who had always done the right thing at great cost to his personal life, and now he was being shunned and degraded by his own church. She wrapped her arms around him and held him tight.

Ariella watched her father standing alone, staring off into the distance at the dark outlines of the mountains ringing their position. She was acutely aware that Lev was probably the one who was suffering the most. Cut off from his homeland and his beloved seaside villa, he was unable to sit by his wife’s gravesite every evening, something he had done every day for the past ten years when he was home. Behind her large brown eyes, a fire burned deep inside. Why had God deserted them? Weren’t they supposed to be the chosen-his lions-sent by Him to destroy this monster Acerbi?

“Let’s get moving,” Mendoza said. “The cabins are in a remote location, and we have to get there before the sun comes up.”

Slowly, the group spread out and divided themselves among the rental cars before heading up a nearby mountain road. An hour later, they turned off onto a little-used dirt road covered in moss that wound its way up a steep hillside beneath a grove of giant pines until they came to a clearing overlooking an isolated mountain gorge. There, in the middle of a peaceful glen, invisible to the outside world, they saw three rustic cabins built from thick logs. They had just arrived at their new home.

Their next few weeks would be spent going about the daily routine of cooking, cleaning, chopping wood-even making rudimentary tools from raw materials. Their lives had taken on a comfortable routine broken only by occasional forays deep into the forest to hunt for deer or fish for trout. Without the ability to use even a radio for communication, they had taken a giant step back in time to a simpler place, where the hours of the day were spent in idle talk around a fireplace instead of sitting in front of a computer screen that held the promise of instant response from a frantic world.

This must have been the way the Cathars had lived , Leo thought, after they had been persecuted by the Church and were in hiding from the evil men of the material world who had descended on their lands in search of even greater wealth. Apparently, life really hadn’t changed all that much in the past seven-hundred years. The only difference, it seemed, was that mankind had found quicker, more efficient means of killing large numbers of people, while employing more subtle ways for governments dominated by the rich to rob from the poor. The robbing and pillaging once conducted on horseback by men brandishing swords was now conducted in corporate boardrooms by men armed with nothing more fearsome than a Smartphone.

It was quickly becoming obvious to the others that Leo was beginning to enjoy their rustic existence. He had begun to reevaluate his life and his role in the world. Who needed a title to deliver God’s message of love to others? In the past year, he had actually found that the title of cardinal had separated him from the common man. He yearned for the days when he could rub elbows at the local watering hole with the working-class men and women of his hometown, hard-working people who sometimes worked two jobs just to pay their mortgages and send their kids to an overpriced college that offered no guarantee of a job after graduation.

Even the prospect of returning to the classroom as a professor of history no longer appealed to Leo. To him, the modern university had become nothing more than a scam perpetuated by a growing education industry that handed out PhD’s like they were Halloween candy to those who yearned for a better life. With profit now the driving force behind higher education, the validity of the degrees it bestowed on its graduates was seriously in doubt. A culture spawned by MBAs who lacked the historical perspective to go with their newfound knowledge of number-crunching had led the country down the rosy corporate path of outsourcing jobs that once went to those who were perfectly happy punching an industrial time clock every day if it gave them the ability to buy a home and put food on the table for their families. Leo knew that one day the country would have to start making things again, or the middle class, or what was left of it, would disappear completely.

For some of the others, especially the scientists and those who found themselves separated from family and friends, life was decidedly more difficult in their forest retreat. Through no fault of their own, they now found themselves outcasts from the world, a world that believed what Acerbi told them to believe, and some were beginning to doubt if things would ever be the same again. Obviously, the military option had been a complete failure and had only played into his hands, creating in him the image of the heroic victim who was only trying to save the world from a deadly disease. His plan had been so diabolically elegant and complex in its execution that it would take years to unravel his lies and prove to the world that the people who had tried to stop him were the true heroes.

On the morning of the tenth day of their third month in hiding, Leo and Evita were walking through the forest looking for mushrooms when they spotted a man wearing a black overcoat with a black fedora pulled low over his eyes. He was walking up the rocky trail that ran from the road below to the cabins in the grove above, and he seemed to know exactly where he was going.