Alex Archer - The Devil's Chord

And if Roux had said he’d met Leonardo at the end of the 1480s, that made sense to her and would fit the timeline of when d’Anjou had supposedly gifted Leonardo with the Lorraine cross.

“Amazing.”

Annja experienced the same adrenaline rush she felt when uncovering a valuable historical treasure. The thrill of the find, or knowing that with further research a discovery could be made, was something she never tired of.

And now, before her, was the idea of a significant connection of three incredible historical figures: René d’Anjou, Leonardo da Vinci, and Joan of Arc.

She was deeply involved, too, more so than on a usual archaeological dig, because she was inexplicably tied to Joan herself. And Roux had known all three?

Thinking of him, she dialed Roux’s number. She wanted to check when he planned to arrive. Voice mail. She didn’t leave a message, didn’t want to reveal her irritation. He’d get a real kick out of that.

Finishing off the panino, Annja then scanned through the local television news stations. Nothing of interest. The night had grown long while she’d been hunting for information. She’d save the check on Scout’s story for the morning.

Stripping off her clothes and pulling her long chestnut hair out from the tangled ponytail, she padded into the bathroom and made good use of the hot water for the next twenty minutes.

* * *

Milan, 1488

“YOU SAID...” Roux leaned forward across the table, knowing he could not possibly have heard the artist correctly. The tavern was noisy, and the hissing back-and-forth sweep of a sword blade across a whetstone nearby didn’t help matters. “Something about a sword piece?”

“Indeed. From Jeanne d’Arc’s sword. The one she wielded in the siege on Paris,” Leonardo explained. “Though it’s malformed. Melted, I believe. I was to understand they had burned her ashes twice to be sure nothing remained. The English army didn’t want to leave anything that could be sifted from the ashes and later passed on. Obviously they missed the sword.”

Roux rubbed his chin, thinking back to that moment when the flames had wrecked Joan’s life forever. And his. The sword had been held aside, along with the few items of clothing she’d worn while imprisoned. How the sword had made it out into the crowd, and then had been broken before all, was beyond him.

It felt surreal to place himself back at that heinous event. He’d never felt helpless before that moment and never had since. But the sense of anguish returned now, made him uncomfortable.

Leonardo was unaware of his distress. And he wished to keep it that way.

“If you guarded Jeanne— She was burned in 1431, wasn’t it?” he asked. “That was sixty-seven years ago. You must have been quite young. You’ve certainly aged well.”

“I’ve been living well,” Roux boasted, smiling.

“Ha!” Leonardo cried and took a hearty swallow of his ale.

Roux tried to act relaxed and purposely pitched his voice low, so that only da Vinci would hear him. “Tell me about this piece from the sword?”

“Ah, you are one with the eager questions?”

Leonardo sketched a few more lines on the drawing he’d tended since Roux had sat down and, seeming happy with the composition, closed his leather-bound book. Placing both palms about the beer stein, Leonardo spoke quietly. “Her sword was broken after they burned her.”

“I know that.”

“Ah? A confirmation of what I had only, until now, known to be rumor. Excellent.”

Yes, yes, so he’d tricked the truth out of him? It wasn’t as though it had been a great secret to begin with. Roux wanted to wrench the man up by the back of his tunic and hustle him outside, where they could speak privately, but he dismissed the idea.

“René d’Anjou had the pieces.”

“All of them?” Roux had thought they’d eventually been scattered to the far parts of the world, and indeed, his quest to locate them was proving nearly impossible.

“No, only so many as he was able to grab among the crowd, who were hungry for a piece of the Maid of Orléans. Can you imagine that calamity? Dreadful. The human soul has insatiable curiosity for the macabre when compassion is what is needed most.”

Losing his patience, Roux gripped the edges of the table. “I was there. I did witness the horror.”

“Yes. Right. Forgive my callousness. But you didn’t manage a piece of the sword?”

“No,” Roux said tightly. “And yet you possess a piece?”

“Yes, yes. When I was so elated by the Lorraine cross, René d’Anjou showed me the few sword pieces he had remaining.”

Roux tapped the table with a finger. “I’d like to take a look at the piece you have, if you wouldn’t mind?”

“I do mind. It’s locked away.” Leonardo took the sketch of the cross, waved it in demonstration and then tucked it in his purse. “Prized possessions, the cross and the sword piece. I don’t have many. Now, sir, it’s time I bought you a drink.”

Chapter 6

Annja met Ian in the hotel lobby, and they arrived at the boat before Scout. Both suited up and were checking the equipment when Scout sauntered aboard with a beaming smile on his face.

He made a show of looking over Annja appreciatively.

She dismissed him and turned to study the marked-up map. “You’re late.”

“I can’t begin the day without my orange juice and coffee. The fresh-squeezed stuff is hard to come by here on the island. Had to order it from the mainland.”

“Seriously? Your budget allows for such luxury?”

“Hey,” Scout said, tugging off his jacket, “take it up with the old man.”

Annja hadn’t thought Roux would offer such an expense account. On the other hand, Scout probably wasn’t aware that he didn’t have carte blanche with his employer, and so was testing the waters.

“I think we should head northwest,” Annja suggested as Scout descended belowdecks to change into his dive suit. “The general direction of traffic in this canal may have pushed the case downstream. And depending on what the treasure was in...”

“A silver hard-wall attaché with digital lock!”

“Really? I thought you said it was a nondescript case. How do you know that?”

“Come on, Creed, do a little research. You always just leap into things for your television show?”

Day two, Annja decided, was when Scout had succeeded in getting on her nerves. Generally, she was pretty accepting of people and the attitudes that came with them. “Difficult to casually toss over the side of a gondola during a lover’s spat without the other noticing, wouldn’t you say?”

Scout emerged, tugging up the zipper on his suit. “Who said the spat was casual? Did you read the incarceration report for the pair? Wait. Right. You didn’t.”

“I don’t have access to it.” Which reminded her, she hadn’t heard back from Bart McGilly yet. Blame it on the time-zone difference. “But apparently you do. So enlighten me.”

“There was a heated argument. And I guess when the guy wasn’t paying attention, the woman ditched the case.”

He guessed? That wasn’t going to help her until she got the chance to look over the reports.

“All right, then,” Annja said. “We’re looking for a metal attaché case. Let’s hope it’s waterproof.”

“It is. I mean, I’m sure it is. They make those cases to be almost indestructible nowadays.”

Having little hope that indeed the attaché would be intact, Annja conceded and directed Kard to the spot she had chosen down the canal.

“How’s the arm?” she asked Scout, remembering yesterday’s close call.

“Doesn’t hurt a bit. A scratch.” He slapped the biceps where he’d been hurt.

“You should have at least had it looked at. What if the harpoon had been rusty?”