Because of that, the Grail would forever remain that most elusive of relics.
‘So, what’s next on your agenda?’
‘Er, if you must know, I intend to further investigate the Cathar sanctuary at Mont de la Lune,’ he confessed diffidently, worried that Kate might think him bonkers. Or that he was biting off more than he could reasonably chew. ‘There’s a mystery there that I’m keen to solve. Perhaps I can shed some light on what has always been a dark page in medieval history.’ The confidentiality agreement didn’t cover the time that he spent in the Languedoc. Since the ‘powers that be’ had failed to enquire, he had accordingly failed to volunteer the details of his trip. How fortuitous.
‘I can’t wait to read the book.’ Kate moved her right hand theatrically through the air, disclosing an imaginary book title. ‘You can call it Isis Revealed.’
‘Such high expectations. I might crumble under the strain.’
‘You’re a stronger man than that.’
‘We shall see,’ he quietly replied, still navigating the shoals.
Just then a bloke blithely strolled past their table in a pair of rudely tight trousers. Emblazoned on the front of his T-shirt was a single word, boldly printed all in capital letters: HUNG.
‘Talk about being boastful.’
Raising his glass of tonic water, Cædmon chortled good-naturedly. ‘At least give the fellow credit for using the correct verb tense.’
‘While I love Washington, there are some things that I’m not going to miss.’ Kate rolled her eyes at the retreating braggart. ‘That was one of them.’
‘Just letting his freak flag fly, as your commando is wont to say. Ah! Unless I’m mistaken, this is him now come late to the party.’ Cædmon nodded at the yellow cab that had pulled up to the nearby kerb.
The back door opened and Finnegan McGuire got out of the taxi. Mercifully, he’d survived the explosion at the research facility, managing to take cover behind a brawny 3000-pound mainframe computer before the pipe bombs detonated. While he’d been bashed up quite a bit, suffering several cracked ribs, deep lacerations and a nasty concussion, he’d lived to tell the tale. He’d also had the foresight to record enough of the tale on to a digital voice recorder. Though it’d taken nearly a week for CID, the French National Police and INTERPOL agents to verify the evidence, he was eventually cleared of the murder charges.
‘Ask the driver to wait please!’ Cædmon called out. Bending over, he retrieved his piece of carry-on luggage, slipping the leather strap on to his shoulder.
‘I wish you’d booked a later flight. There’s still time to call and cancel,’ Kate added, smiling winsomely.
‘Needs must.’ He wasn’t about to admit that he felt like a third wheel. Overcome with an unexpected burst of nostalgia, he grabbed her by the shoulders, warmly kissing her on each cheek. ‘Goodbye, Kate. You’re in good hands now.’
Farewells always awkward, he left it at that. Hitching the luggage strap a bit higher on his shoulder, he walked towards the waiting taxi, meeting the commando midway.
‘Come on, buddy. Why don’t you stay another day?’ McGuire entreated, placing a congenial hand on his shoulder. ‘There’s a great pizza joint –’
‘Thank you, but I really must catch my flight.’ Then, with a self-deprecating snort, he said, ‘My Grail quest has finally come to an end.’
‘If it’s any consolation, Cædmon, you made a believer out of me.’
‘High praise, indeed, coming from such a diehard sceptic. Good luck, Finn.’ Cædmon extended his right hand in a heartfelt show of friendship. ‘And pity the poor lads who have you as a drill instructor.’
‘Yeah, I’m looking forward to becoming the most hated man at Fort Bragg,’ the commando retorted with his trademark smirk.
‘But loved by the one person who matters.’ Cædmon glanced pointedly at Kate, who stood waiting by the bistro table. Two weeks ago, he had mistakenly thought them strange bedfellows. He knew better now.
Ducking his head, Cædmon slid into the back seat of the taxi. ‘Ronald Reagan National Airport, please.’
As the cab pulled away from the kerb, he peered out of the window, casting his gaze towards the western horizon. The sun’s fiery last light had softened into a burgundy blush, making for a breathtakingly beautiful sight. He stared, awestruck.
‘’Tis not too late to seek a new world.’
Smiling at the thought, he folded his arms across his chest.
Eat. Sleep. Live to fight another day. But it was the moments that took one’s breath away that made it all worth while.
And the fact that it did, gave him hope.
Acknowledgements
The author would like to thank Jeanne Chitty and Peter Scheer for assisting with the book illustrations.
PENGUIN BOOKS
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First published 2011
Copyright © C. M. Palov, 2011
Photography by © Richard Peach / Alamy
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.
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ISBN: 978-0-14-196066-1