C. Palov - Templar's Quest

‘I’ve got two eyes. I can see what happened here.’

Finn McGuire’s jaw tightened. ‘Assuming you haven’t lost your sense of smell, you can verify for yourself that I didn’t kill anyone.’ Seeing her quizzical frown, he elaborated. ‘Walk over to the desk and take a whiff. You should be able to smell almonds. Although it wasn’t almonds that killed him; it was a fatal dose of cyanide which emits the telltale scent of almonds.’

Wondering if he might actually be telling the truth, Kate walked over and peered at the dead man sprawled in the leather chair. With a frothy ribbon of spittle lodged at the corner of his open mouth, he bore little resemblance to the elegantly attired man she’d seen earlier in the reception hall.

‘Well, what do you smell?’

‘Almonds.’ Shuddering, she stepped away from the desk. ‘But that doesn’t tell me what you’re doing here or why this man committed suicide.’

‘You wanna know what happened? Fine. Last night, two Delta troopers were brutally murdered and I’m next in line for execution,’ Finn said matter-of-factly. ‘Fabius Jutier was the mastermind behind the murders. As to why he killed himself … I have no idea.’

The explanation stunned her. ‘Have you alerted the authorities?’

Rather than answer, Finn walked over to the computer work station on the other side of the office. Wordlessly, he picked up a notebook computer and tucked it under his arm.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Spoils of war.’

His answer was so coolly detached, it made Kate wonder what war she’d stumbled into.

‘I am not going to stand idly by and watch you pilfer from a – Now what are you doing?’ she demanded to know as he began to unbutton Jutier’s shirt.

‘It’s called a costume change. This army uniform is like having an “Arrest Me” sign pinned to my back. I’ll be less conspicuous in Jutier’s black suit.’

‘Meaning you have no intention of contacting the authorities.’ She turned her head as he started to disrobe. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a flash of bronzed skin and a quick glimpse of a bunched bicep.

‘Whoa!’ Finn exclaimed. ‘The bastard’s got some ink. Check out the tat on his left pec.’

Kate glanced in Finn’s direction. Confirming that he was decent, she walked over to the desk. A moment later, her breath caught in her throat. Transfixed, she stared at the strange tattoo centred above the Frenchman’s heart.

‘I think those are Norse runes and – my God!’ Her eyes opened wide. ‘I’ve seen this sun-wheel design before! Unless I’m mistaken, it has something to do with Nazis and the occult.’

‘Well, do me a favour and take a photo of it, will ya?’ Still in the process of getting dressed, Finn handed his cell phone to her. ‘The tat is too weird not to be significant.’

Kate snapped the shot.

‘According to a documentary that I saw on TV last year, many of the high-ranking members of the Third Reich practised occult rituals. Not only that, but they were obsessed with the magical power of runes. Given the tattoo, I think it’s safe to assume that Fabius Jutier was involved in an esoteric Nazi –’

‘Later,’ he interjected, snatching the cell phone and depositing it in his coat pocket. ‘Right now, we need to get the hell out of here.’

Kate shook her head adamantly. ‘I’m not going anywhere with you.’

‘If you don’t come with me, they’ll kill you.’

‘I don’t believe –’

‘You have to believe.’ He cupped her cheek, the gesture curiously paternal. ‘I’m sorry, Kate. I never intended to involve you in any of this. You weren’t supposed to have walked through that door.’

‘But I did.’ Afraid of what might happen if she was left behind, she reluctantly acquiesced. ‘All right, I’ll go with you.’

Shoving his rolled-up uniform and Jutier’s laptop under his arm, Finn walked over and opened the office door.

‘The elevator is to the left,’ she informed him.

‘We’re taking the stairs. You never know who’ll greet you with a loaded gun when the elevator door slides open.’

8

Passing a trash receptacle, Finn nonchalantly shoved the wadded bundle into it. Uniform disposed of, he said, ‘Scrunch down a few inches.’

Kate’s eyes opened wide. ‘ What? ’

‘Just like this.’ Bending his knees, Finn instantly reduced his height to six feet. ‘If we each shave a couple of inches, we stand a better chance of slinking out of here undetected.’

Like fishes and loaves, the crowd inside the ballroom had doubled during their absence. Navigating their way through the throng was slow going at best. Worried that he might lose Kate amidst all the schmoozing and networking, Finn took hold of her right hand. In his other hand was the pilfered notebook computer. It was probably a long shot, but he was hoping there might be something on the laptop that could help him track down Dixie and Johnny K’s murderer.

‘In case you haven’t noticed, there are guards posted at all the exits,’ Kate hissed out of the side of her mouth.

‘Who are probably wearing bullet-proof vests under their dark-coloured jackets and have a loaded SIG Sauer in the shoulder holster.’

‘ Oh, God .’ Her delicate features morphed into a panic-stricken expression.

‘Stay calm. Don’t give ’em a reason to notice you in the crowd.’

While they’d managed to return to the reception hall without incident, Finn didn’t know how much longer their luck would hold. Despite the little meet-and-greet with Jutier, he still had no idea why the gold pendant was so valuable. The rat bastards in the Seven had proved that they’d stop at nothing to retrieve the Montségur Medallion.

The damned thing must have once belonged to some dead king. Why else would it be worth so much money?

Whatever the reason, the Seven had been willing to give him one million dollars for it. A paltry sum compared to the worth of two patriotic soldiers. Simply put, some things couldn’t be measured in dollars and cents. Like valour and honour. And retribution . And as God was his witness, he’d personally make sure that the Dark Angel paid dearly for killing Dixie and Johnny K.

Still baffled by the Frenchman’s suicide, Finn had no idea why Jutier had chomped down on the cyanide capsule. It was like he’d been programmed to kill himself rather than be taken alive. Which suggested that he had something to hide. Something he feared might be revealed during a gruelling interrogation.

Finn spared Kate a quick sideways glance. ‘I’ve been meaning to ask: how did you wind up at Jutier’s office?’

‘When I saw you leave the reception hall, I found out your companion’s name from an embassy employee. I then came across a directory in the main lobby. Using that, I managed to locate the Office of Cultural Affairs.’

‘You’re resourceful, I’ll give you that.’ Tugging on her hand, Finn pulled her towards a swinging door from which a steady stream of waiters went to and fro. On the other side of that swinging door there was a kitchen.

‘Just follow my lead,’ he said, pushing the door with his shoulder.

‘I assume you’ve devised an exit strategy.’

Finn shook his head. ‘Nope. I’m winging this all the way.’

‘You do realize there’s an eight-foot electric fence around the entire embassy compound and armed guards manning the front gate?’

‘I never said getting out of here would be easy.’

On the other side of the swinging door, the kitchen was a veritable mob scene, with white-coated, white-capped staff scurrying pell-mell. Finn quickly surveyed the cavernous stainless-steel kitchen – there wasn’t a red EXIT sign in sight. Undeterred, he pulled Kate down the central aisle. On his right flank, Finn spied a mustachioed man wearing a pleated chef’s cap determinedly bearing down on them. While he wasn’t wearing a badge, the guy had ‘kitchen cop’ written all over him.