C. Palov - Templar's Quest

‘I can understand why your brother would harbour antipathy towards the English,’ Kate said quietly.

‘But that doesn’t give him a free pass to aid terrorists. Which I suppose makes him one of ’em,’ Finn added, refusing to split the difference. ‘And just so you know, I haven’t seen or spoken to Mickey in the last five years.’

‘We all have skeletons in our closet.’

‘Yeah, but mine are scarier than most.’

‘Change of subject –’ Kate glanced expectantly at him – ‘I actually do think it’s a magnanimous offer.’

Finn made no reply. Instead, he checked his watch, stalling for time. He then craned his neck and peered through the Citroën’s rear window; his jailor was busy rummaging through the glove compartment. Probably searching for a flask.

‘I don’t trust him,’ he said flatly, turning his head back in Kate’s direction.

‘But I do.’ Pivoting on her heel, she stepped directly in front of him. ‘For all his faults, past and present, I know that Cædmon Aisquith is a man of integrity. He will keep his end of the bargain.’ Kate put a placating hand on his crossed arms. Smiling wistfully, she said, ‘What choice do we have?’

Maybe it was the fact that she used the word ‘we’. Or that she’d been like a fierce lioness defending him to Aisquith. Maybe he just needed to make a physical connection. Whatever the reason, Finn pulled her towards him. To his surprise, Kate wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her cheek squarely against his pectoral muscle.

For several long moments they held each other. Neither spoke. Neither moved. If Aisquith hadn’t been sitting a few feet away, Finn would have kissed her. If for no other reason than to find out if her lips were really as soft as he imagined.

I am a soldier on a mission. I do not need this kind of distraction.

Yeah, now tell that to a certain male organ.

Kate tipped her head to meet his gaze. ‘Well … ?’

The battle lost, Finn acquiesced with a brusque nod. ‘All right. Let him know that I’m ready to talk. And Kate –’ he grabbed her by the arm as she turned to leave, stopping her in mid-spin. ‘Let me do the talking. All right?’

‘Afraid I’ll steal the show?’ she teased, pulling her arm free.

That or tell the truth.

Stepping away from the Citroën, Finn waited for Aisquith to get out of the car, his gaze zeroing in on the slight bulge of tweed fabric under the other man’s left arm. Still pissed off, he recalled the bastard’s fast draw.

‘Okay, you win,’ Finn said grudgingly, the concession leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. ‘I’ll tell you about the murders.’

‘And the Black Sun tattoo?’

‘Yeah, that too. But I’ve already said everything that I’m going to say about my brother. Capiche? ’

Aisquith was silent for several seconds. Then, eyes narrowing, he nodded his consent. ‘Agreed. Shall we adjourn to the café across the street?’

‘I think that’s a great idea,’ Kate said, hers the only smiling face. ‘I certainly could use a cappuccino.’

Turning his head, Finn sized up the joint. ‘Yeah, all right.’

Decision made, the three of them trooped across the street. Playing the gallant, Aisquith opened the door to the café, motioning Kate through.

At a glance, Finn could see that the establishment was low-key; a couple of suits, a couple of touristos, a couple of waiters. On the far left, behind the bar, was a back exit. About to bolt in that direction, he pulled up short when Aisquith slid his right hand under his tweed jacket, having gauged his intentions.

Finn figured Aisquith would like nothing better than to lay him low with a nine mil.

Already a disgruntled customer, Finn walked over and seated himself in the rickety cane chair next to Kate. The Brit took the vacant chair across from them.

A waiter approached. Not bothering to ask Finn what he wanted to drink, Aisquith rattled off an order.

No sooner had the waiter left than he jutted his chin at Finn. ‘It’s your turn at bat, I believe.’

Ready to hit one out of the park, Finn got right to it. ‘There’s a group headquartered here in Paris called the Seven Research Foundation that’s convinced I found a gold medallion during a black-ops mission in Syria. They’re so convinced that I have this damned medallion that they sent an assassin called the Dark Angel –’

‘That’s the blonde-haired woman at the quay,’ Kate said in a quick aside.

‘– to take out two Delta Force troopers. Which she obligingly did. She was even kind enough to leave evidence making it look like I wielded the knife.’

‘To what purpose?’

‘To force my hand. Fabius Jutier, a bigwig at the French Embassy, offered me a very sweet deal: I give him the medallion and the Seven gives me one million dollars and a “Get Out of Jail” – Shit! ’ Finn muttered under his breath as two uniformed police officers entered the café.

‘ Oh, God … they’re looking for someone,’ Kate anxiously hissed.

Reaching under the table, Finn squeezed her leg, wordlessly ordering her to remain calm. No easy feat given that both cops were scoping out the joint. Kate was right; they were obviously searching for someone.

‘Did you use your own passports to enter France?’ A cool customer, Aisquith didn’t even glance at the uniformed pair.

No point in lying, Finn said, ‘We came in through the back door with forged papers.’

‘Who knows that you’re in Paris?’

‘No one.’

‘Insurance of a sort. However, because you’re a member of the US military, your photo is on a computer database. For Kate’s sake, let us hope that the authorities don’t employ photo recognition software to track you.’

‘Yeah, let’s hope they don’t do that.’ Bastard.

Just then, the owner of the café rushed out of the kitchen, greeting the two cops effusively. It was obvious from the exchange that they were regulars. Finn marginally relaxed. Kate one-upped him, visibly slumping in her chair.

‘To get back on point, where is the medallion now?’

Trained to lie under pressure, Finn stared the Brit right in the eye and said, ‘How the hell should I know? Still in Syria, I figure. I’m a soldier, not a treasure hunter.’

On hearing that whopper, Kate immediately straightened in her chair. If she had laser vision, she would have bored a hole right through his cheek.

‘And the tattoo?’

Gathering that his lie passed muster, Finn folded his arms over his chest and said, ‘That beaut was emblazoned right over Fabius Jutier’s heart. Sweet, huh?’

‘Mmmm … I take it the man is no longer among the living?’

‘See, it’s like this –’ Finn lowered his voice, forcing Aisquith to lean towards him. ‘I was in the middle of questioning Jutier – and, yeah, I admit, I was using an enhanced interrogation technique – when the weasel chomps down on a cyanide capsule.’

‘How interesting. Cyanide was the preferred suicide method for many of the Nazis.’

‘Except Jutier was French, not German,’ Kate pointed out.

‘We need to get to the bottom of this.’ Reaching into his breast pocket, Aisquith removed a BlackBerry phone.

‘What are you doing?’ Finn hissed, suddenly worried that Aisquith had duped him.

The other man glanced up from the device. ‘Requesting dossiers on Jutier and the Seven Research Foundation.’

‘But, Cædmon, you said that you wouldn’t contact the authorities.’ Reaching across the table, Kate tried, unsuccessfully, to snatch the BlackBerry out of his hand.

‘I would think that you and Sergeant McGuire would want this information.’