C. Palov - Templar's Quest

She nodded eagerly. ‘Understood. When do we leave?’

‘As soon as we can pack it up. And, Kate –’ he paused, making sure he had her full, undivided attention – ‘once we leave this houseboat, the only safe day will be the day just passed.’

PART II

‘I am convinced that there are universal currents of Divine Thought vibrating the ether everywhere and that any who can feel these vibrations is inspired’ – Richard Wagner

19

Paris, France

4 August, 0848 hours

‘Before we blow this joint, I need to lay down some ground rules. First of all, we’re not on a French wine-tasting tour. This is a search and destroy mission. Period. The end. That said, you will stay close to me at all times; you will obey every order given to you; and you will not question my authority. Am I making myself clear?’

Topsails slack, Kate nodded silently. In that instant, it occurred to her, yet again , that Fate was not merely capricious, but threw a mean sucker punch.

She hitched the knapsack strap a bit higher on her shoulder and lengthened her stride. Several minutes ago they had disembarked from the high-speed Eurostar, Finn now in a ‘big-ass hurry to put the mission op into play’. A one-man assault on the City of Love.

At this hour of the morning, the cavernous Gare du Nord train station brimmed with hundreds of travellers rushing pell-mell in every direction. Overhead, the departure board loudly click-clacked , yellow letters and numbers flipping past at a dizzying speed, like a slot machine run amuck. Kate averted her gaze, the rolling tabs inciting a nauseous churn. To add to the chaos, a strident female voice incessantly announced the arrivals and departures on the PA system.

Finn inclined his head in her direction. Although his lips moved, the ensuing remark was completely drowned out.

‘You’ll have to repeat that,’ she told him, cupping a hand to her ear.

Coming to a halt, Finn leaned towards her, his cheek brushing against hers. ‘Just outside the station, I see a line of cabs.’

Taken aback by the combination of warm breath, warm body and prickly stubble, Kate recoiled, hit with an unexpected jolt of sexual awareness. Something that had been happening with an unnerving frequency over the last few days. When they’d shared an office suite at the Pentagon, she’d been intimidated by Finn’s sheer physicality, the man taller, broader, more muscular than most. Now, for some inexplicable reason, she found herself strangely attracted to those very qualities.

Baffled by her reaction, particularly since Finn McGuire wasn’t her type, Kate wondered if she might be suffering from a variant form of Stockholm Syndrome. Like a hostage with her captor, was she attracted to Finn because she was so completely dependent on him to keep her safe?

‘Hey, soldier, you okay?’ A concerned look on his face, Finn gently squeezed her hand.

Even though Kate knew it was his way of bolstering the troops, it caused another spasm in the base of her spine. Wordlessly, she stared at him. At that close range, she could see each individual whisker that covered his lower face, the five o’clock shadow making him appear dangerously sexy.

‘I’m fine,’ she lied, fearing the frantic, non-stop pace was finally starting to catch up with her. ‘Would it be possible to grab a cup of coffee? There’s a café over by the –’

‘Later,’ Finn interjected, letting go of her hand. ‘We need to hit the road.’

She suppressed a groan. For the last two days, they’d been pounding the pavement. Hard.

Travelling under the radar, they’d left the houseboat in Washington and headed straight to a storage facility in Arlington, Virginia. Much to her surprise, Finn maintained a rental unit well-stocked with guns, ammo, a metal box full of cash and a Harley Davidson ‘Fat Boy’. Offering no explanation as to why a sane person would go to such extreme lengths, he’d packed what he called a ‘Go Bag’ – a heavy-duty canvas satchel with a leather strap reinforced with a stainless steel cable. He wore the Go Bag bandolier-style across his chest, having yet to take it off.

Leaving the storage unit, they’d travelled to Annapolis, Maryland, Kate clinging to Finn’s waist, terrified she might jettison off the back-end of the twin-cam motorcycle. Again, giving no explanation for his actions, Finn stopped at a public photo booth where they each had their picture taken. From there, they went to a 24-hour FedEx office, the photos placed in an overnight envelope. The next stop was the Wal-Mart superstore. New clothing and a few basic toiletries were purchased, Finn insisting that she stick with neutral colours. ‘ The object is to blend into the scenery. ’ Hoping a roadside hotel would be the final port-of-call, she was bewildered when they instead headed to Dover Air Force Base in Delaware.

Which is when the trip took a very strange and surreal turn.

Met at one of the gates by a uniformed airman named Barry DeSoto, an ‘old buddy’ who owed Finn an outstanding gambling debt, they were surreptitiously ushered on to a C-5 plane that was in the process of being loaded. Destination: Mildenhall Royal Air Force Base in England. Happy to discharge the three-thousand-dollar debt, Airman DeSoto arranged for her and Finn to stow away in the hull of the plane, wedged between stacked wooden crates and oversized metal containers.

No sooner did they touch down on English soil than another ‘old buddy’ met them on the tarmac. Finn gave the man a wad of cash and, in return, was handed two forged Dutch passports, a his and a hers, emblazoned with the photos that had been taken on the other side of the Atlantic. Newly dubbed ‘Fons’ and ‘Katja’, they’d crossed the Channel on the Eurostar.

Still mentally adjusting to the fact that she was actually in Paris, Kate followed Finn through the sliding glass doors as they exited the train station. Per his earlier instructions, she stayed directly on ‘his six’ as he headed towards the cab stand.

A few moments later, seated in the back of an idling taxi, Kate told the hirsute driver, ‘ Amenez-nous à rue de la Bûcherie, s’il vous plaît. ’

‘ D’accord ,’ the cabbie replied with a nod as he manoeuvred the Mercedes Benz cab out of the queue.

It had been decided ahead of time that their first stop would be L’Equinoxe, the bookstore owned and operated by her friend Cædmon Aisquith.

‘Any idea what time the bookstore opens?’ Finn slid his dark sunglasses to the top of his head. Given their proximity, Kate could see the crow’s feet radiating from the corners of his brown eyes. Obviously, the man had never heard of sun block. Although she had to admit that he wore his wrinkles well.

‘I’m not certain. Most shops in Paris open for business at ten o’clock. Although it’s my understanding that Cædmon maintains a flat in the back of the bookstore.’

‘Wanna call what’s-his-name and give him a head’s up?’

‘Um, I don’t think that’s necessary.’ It’d been sixteen years since she’d last spoken to Cædmon. A fact that she’d purposefully refrained from mentioning to Finn. Several months ago, she’d bumped into an old Oxford chum who’d informed her that Cædmon currently owned the bookshop in Paris. Until that accidental meeting, she’d had no idea what had happened to ‘what’s-his-name’ after he left Oxford.

Finn glanced at his commando watch. Altimeter. Barometer. Thermometer. Digital compass . The timepiece had more features than some cars.

‘It’s a few minutes shy of oh-nine-hundred,’ he informed her. ‘Your buddy Engelbert Humperdinck ought to be up and at ’em by now.’