“Clue?” Nina pounced on the word. “What the hell are you talking about, Dave?”
“We have a mystery to unravel, Nina!”
“Oh, God…” She groaned and pushed her hands through her hair, unable to believe what she was hearing. “Please, no. Have you forgotten that we’re on the run? Tell me you didn’t bring us here just so you can play Hercule Poirot.”
Despite himself, Sam laughed. Purdue’s penchant for drama and Nina’s low tolerance for it had the capacity to entertain him, even when he was confused and frightened. Especially when he was confused and frightened, perhaps. For a brief moment, they diverted him from the gravity of their situation — until Nina shot him a death glare that silenced his laugher.
“I promise you, Nina, this is not a game. Nor is it a distraction from the task of staying safe — and alive. There is a task I must complete for someone who has the resources to guarantee our safety indefinitely. This person seeks a particular object, an item which I must retrieve.”
“Renata, presumably?” Sam remembered Nina’s words from two nights ago. “The same Renata who won’t wait much longer?”
“Correct,” said Purdue. “And believe me, she will not.”
“Who is she?” Nina asked. “She’s got to be someone pretty powerful if she can protect us from the Black Sun.”
“I would endanger you both if I were to tell you any more about Renata, and I have put you in too much danger already” Purdue said regretfully. “Suffice it to say that I have no reason to doubt her. I know exactly how powerful she is — or if I do not, then I err on the side of underestimating her.”
“So what’s this item that she wants, then?” Sam took a large swig of tea and moved on to his second roll. “And why do we have to solve clues to get it?”
“Another painting,” said Purdue, “which probably won’t surprise you. She made contact with me on the recommendation of the first person for whom I ever obtained an artefact, some years ago, before I had made my fortune. We were both quite surprised when we discovered who the other party was… Anyway, she is keen to own a particular painting by a Flemish old master, but it is a painting that has seldom been legitimately owned. It was first stolen from the court of Philippe le Bon and has since become something of a prize amongst art thieves and collectors who value work that cannot be found on the open market. The Arnolfini Portrait. People refer to it as “Fides Manualis”, since it depicts a man and a woman joining hands. The most recent owner of the painting, to the best of anyone’s knowledge, is a man named Addison Fabian, an American with a penchant for puzzles. He decided to return the painting to Belgium, where he felt it belonged — but being a sportsman, he anticipated that someone would come for it someday and left a trail of clues for them. A little dramatic, perhaps, but I can understand his reasoning. When you have the resources to set something like that in place…”
“It must be tempting,” said Sam. “So what’s the first clue?”
“To search in Ghent — A reliquary waits beneath the dozen, where the adored Lamb should be. That’s what led me back to this place, last night — before coming up to the room, I investigated the chapel. It may no longer be a functioning place of worship, but it was dedicated to Saint Agnes when it was consecrated, so I thought it might be the place we are looking for. So our task for today is to go there and find what we need. Just as soon as Sam has finished clearing out the breakfast buffet.”
Chapter Fifteen
The first obstacle they encountered was that the chapel was locked. In fact, it was not only locked, but its doors were sealed with a thick metal chain secured with a hefty padlock. Judging by the state of the chain, it had been some time since those doors had been opened.
“Isn’t it still operational?” Nina rattled the padlock, more in hope than expectation. “I thought from some of the things that Axelle said that it was.”
“If it is, they’re certainly not getting in through here,” said Sam. “Is there another door?”
They briskly walked around the chapel. Its walls were covered by dense creepers, so they split up and made a more thorough search, this time checking beneath the clinging vines in case there were hidden doors to be found. All they found was aged stone.
“No windows that we can get through.” Sam scanned the walls, looking for anything that was open or already broken. “Not without attracting attention and getting ourselves in trouble, at least.”
“There may be another way,” said Purdue. “Follow me.” He marched swiftly away from the chapel, back towards the main building. When Nina asked where they were going, he pointed back the way they had just come. “Look at the ground. Do you see all those little grates?”
“You think there’s a tunnel?”
Purdue nodded and led them inside, into the reception area. There was no-one behind the desk, so he lifted the entrance flap and let himself in to the area marked Staff Only. A large board full of keys on hooks hung beside the desk, and at the bottom of the board he found the ones marked Kitchen, Refectory, Library… and Chapel (Rear Entrance). “Now all we have to do is find the door,” he said, taking the key.
“In here!” Sam had joined Purdue behind the desk and was now looking through the window in the door that separated them from the little office behind Reception. “Got the key to this door?”
Sure enough, in the office there was a small, locked door leading to a flight of stairs, going down. The key that Purdue had taken opened it easily, and he took out his resizable tablet and activated the flashlight function as they descended into the darkness.
“Once all of this is over,” Nina muttered, half to herself, “once we’re back home and nobody’s trying to kill us anymore, I swear I’m never going anywhere more enclosed than George Street ever again.”
“Come closer to the light.” Purdue held out a hand to her. “It will help if you can see what’s around you. The tunnel is really quite spacious.”
The tunnel was short, opening out into a small chamber that smelled of dust and was lined with old, leather-bound hymnals and prayer books, and from there they emerged into the cool, weak daylight of the chapel itself. The air was tinged with the scent of incense and the sense that it had not been disturbed for a very, very long time. It was a simple chapel, with no elaborate artwork or statuary, a far cry from the church in which Nina had found herself two days ago. Its most decorative features were a modest altarpiece depicting the Annunciation and a single stained glass window bearing the image of a female saint, whom Sam and Nina presumed must be Saint Agnes.
“This can’t be right.” Purdue was pacing back and forth over by the altar, his footsteps echoing in the chapel’s clear acoustics. He looked truly puzzled, an expression neither Sam nor Nina saw often. “I was so sure… There’s so little here. We’re looking for where the adored Lamb ought to be, which is presumably the window, but… beneath the dozen. I can’t make sense of that, can you? There should be a dozen of… of something.”