“Then let’s get out of here. I assure you, what I have to say is important.”
Her father stepped in front of her and faced Brian. “We’re not going anywhere. If you want to shoot me, go ahead. I don’t give a damn.”
“I know what happened in Florida. That you were about to kill yourself. But you didn’t. You’re here. We were watching, along with Simon. I sent a man to the cemetery to spook you, in the car, when you visited your father’s grave, but you didn’t back off. I’m not your enemy, Mr. Sagan. I’m an American intelligence agent, working for a unit known as the Magellan Billet. We’re after Zachariah Simon and need your help.”
Alle caught movement over Brian’s shoulder.
Rócha appeared, holding a gun.
Her eyes went wide.
Brian saw her surprise and started to turn.
———
TOM SAW THE MAN AND IMMEDIATELY LUNGED TOWARD ALLE, his body covering hers, both of them pounding the floor.
Two pops echoed.
Brian’s body lurched, his arms went skyward, his grip on the gun was lost and it clattered to the floor.
Another pop.
Blood seeped from Brian’s lips. Then the body went limp and he collapsed into convulsions.
Tom rolled twice and reached for the gun on the floor, slipping his finger around the trigger. He swung his arm around and fired, the retort loud off the stone.
The bullet ricocheted and, instinctively, he covered his head.
When he looked up, the man at the end of the hall was gone.
And so was Alle.
———
ZACHARIAH KEPT WALKING, HEADING FOR WHERE THE CORRIDOR intersected another. He heard shots and hoped that was the end of Brian Jamison. Béne Rowe surely had other people working for him, but the loss of his chief lieutenant would eliminate Rowe’s most valuable eyes and ears in Austria. He’d read Abiram Sagan’s note, which was explicit, but not as much as he’d hoped considering the Levite would be passing on all that he knew. Had Sagan changed it? After all, it was typewritten. How hard could it have been? Especially for a man accused of falsifying news stories.
His original plan was no more.
He now needed a few moments alone with Alle.
A loud bang, then more pops came from the catacombs.
One problem was surely gone.
Two more were about to be solved.
———
ALLE WATCHED AS BRIAN WAS SHOT THREE TIMES, HIS BODY finally ceasing all movement on the floor. Her father was trying to find Brian’s gun and she used that moment to spring to her feet and race ahead, finding the passageway’s end and turning a corner. She had no idea where she was headed, but it was in the direction her father had been taking them.
Brian’s words still hung in her ears.
I’m an American intelligence agent.
What in the world?
A shot rang out from behind her, louder than the others. She slowed, but kept a brisk pace, her head constantly spinning, checking her flank. She spotted a stairway fifty feet ahead, the path well lit.
Another glance back.
More pops.
Her shoulders were grabbed from the front, her body spun.
The unexpected violation startled her and she was about to scream when a hand clamped over her mouth and she saw Zachariah’s face.
———
TOM WAS PINNED DOWN, HUDDLED INSIDE ONE OF THE ARCHWAYS that framed an iron grille with a gate that separated the hall from bone rooms on each side. He was hugging the bars, keeping his body shielded, when he realized that the gate was not locked. He eased open the hinged section and rolled into the narrow room, his body now flush against a stack of blackened bones. He stared back, trying to spot whoever was firing at him.
Then he saw.
The bone rooms were not individual. The niches formed one long path, archways dividing them from the center passage. Lights illuminated the niches and the bones. He could actually escape the shooter, staying out of the corridor, the angle and pillars providing plenty of cover.
He crouched low and started to leave.
Another pop.
Bones a foot away shattered as a bullet slammed into the pile.
He dropped to the floor and lay flat. Bad idea.
He told himself to calm down, breathe slower. Think. He still held the gun. His shot a moment ago, the first time in his life he’d ever fired a weapon, had been a message that he was armed. Strange that his first shot was here, among so many reminders of death, when it should have been two days ago. He crawled ahead across the gritty floor, paralleling the bones inches away. A musty, dirty smell filled his nostrils, which reminded him of Abiram’s open coffin, but he kept moving, staying low to the ground.
He heard movement behind him.
He rolled onto his spine and stared back through the bars and arches.
A shadow grew in size.
Someone was approaching.
———
ZACHARIAH HELD ALLE TIGHT, HIS HAND OVER HER MOUTH. HE could feel her shaking with fear.
He removed his hand.
“Are you all right?” he whispered, concern in his voice and eyes.
Her head bobbed. “I’m okay. Brian is back there. He was shot. Somebody is there with a gun.”
“Listen to me, Alle. I need your help. Rócha will make sure your father is okay. No harm will come to him. But I need you to go with him. Find out what it is your father knows.”
“He told you.”
He shook his head. “He is holding back. There is no reason for him to be truthful with me. I would have no way to verify anything, and he knows that.”
“Why would he lie?”
“Perhaps he feels an attachment or duty to his father. I have to know if he is being entirely candid.”
“Brian is a government agent.”
His heart shuddered.
Had he heard her correctly?
“He said he worked for U.S. intelligence.”
How was that possible? But he contained his surprise and decided to use that fact. “That’s exactly what I have been saying. The Americans would like nothing better than to stop me.”
“Why?”
“I will explain later. Right now, find out for me what your father knows. Much is at stake here for us all.”
“Why did you sell me out?”
“I wanted you to go with him. I thought it the only way to make sure you would not come with me.”
A lie, but a good one.
He watched her eyes, searching for confirmation that she was still his.
“Okay,” she said. “I can go with him and find out.”
“I knew you could. You must know that I would never have allowed anything to happen to you. I took a great chance coming down here. Brian was a danger, but I had to make sure you were okay.” He handed her his cell phone. “Take this. My home number is there in the memory. Call me when you learn something.”
“Did you kill Brian?” she asked.
“Not me. Somebody else is here. That is why you and your father have to leave. Rócha is making that possible. We have enemies everywhere.”
She did not know what to say.
He gently grasped both of her shoulders. “It is unfortunate that all this has happened, but much depends on you. Please, find out what we need to know.”
CHAPTER FORTY
BÉNE HAD SEVERAL TIMES VISITED SANTIAGO DE CUBA, A CITY with half a million people. It was the island’s second largest, behind Havana, which lay nine hundred kilometers to the west. Its deep bay made it invaluable, as from here Cuba imported and exported most of its goods. What he’d not known was its history relative to the Spanish. That had never been important, until today.
Tre explained that one of Spain’s first conquistadores, Diego Velázquez de Cuéllar, founded the city in 1514 before he laid siege to the island. Cortez began his conquest of Mexico and de Soto his exploration of Florida from here. This was the center of Spanish power over Cuba, serving as the island’s capital until 1589. More recently, the Battle of San Juan Hill happened not far away, which ended both the Spanish-American War and any European presence in Cuba forever.