Where are you now? Machiavelli asked.
Dee glanced out the window of the limousine, trying to read the road signs
flashing past. Somewhere on the 101, heading down to L.A. My jet is fueled
and ready to go, and we re cleared for takeoff as soon as I arrive.
I would anticipate having them in custody before you land in Paris,
Machiavelli said. The line crackled furiously, and he paused before adding,
I believe they will attempt to contact Saint-Germain.
Dee sat bolt upright. The Comte de Saint-Germain? He s back in Paris? I
heard he had died in India looking for the lost city of Ophir.
Obviously not. He has an apartment off the Champs-Elys es and two homes in
the suburbs that we are aware of. They are all under observation. If Flamel
contacts him, we ll know.
don't let them escape this time, Dee barked. Our masters would not be
pleased. He snapped the phone shut before Machiavelli could respond. Then
his teeth flashed in a quick smile. The net was closing tighter and tighter.
He can be so childish, Machiavelli muttered in Italian. Always has to have
the last word. Standing in the ruins of the coffee shop, he carefully closed
his phone and looked around at the devastation. It was as if a tornado had
ripped through the caf . Every item of furniture was broken, the windows were
shattered, and there were even cracks in the ceiling. The powdery remains of
cups and saucers mixed with spilled coffee beans, scattered tea leaves and
broken pastries on the floor. Machiavelli bent to lift up a fork. It was
curled in a perfect S shape. Tossing it aside, he picked his way through the
debris. Scathach had single-handedly defeated twelve highly trained and
heavily armed RAID officers. He had been vaguely hoping that perhaps she had
lost some of her martial arts skills in the years since he had last
encountered her, but it seemed that his hope had been in vain. The Shadow was
as deadly as ever. Getting close to Flamel and the children would be
difficult with the Warrior in the picture. In his long life, Niccol had
encountered her on at least half a dozen occasions, and he d barely survived
each time. They d last met in the frozen ruins of Stalingrad in the winter of
1942. If it hadn't been for her, his forces would have taken the city. He d
sworn then that he would kill her: maybe now was the time to keep that
promise.
But how to kill the unkillable? What could stand against the warrior who had
trained all of history s greatest heroes, who had fought in every great
conflict and whose fighting style was at the heart of just about every
martial art?
Stepping out of the demolished shop, Machiavelli breathed deeply, clearing
his lungs of the bitter, acrid odor of spilled coffee and sour milk that hung
in the air. Dagon pulled open the car door as he approached, and the Italian
saw himself reflected in his driver s dark glasses. He paused before stepping
into the car and glanced up at the police closing off the streets, the
heavily armed riot squad gathering in small groups and the plain clothes
officers in their unmarked cars. The French secret service were his to
command, he could order in the police, and he had access to a private army of
hundreds of men and women who would do his bidding without question. And yet
he knew that none of them could stand against the Warrior. He came to a
decision and looked at Dagon before climbing into the car.
Find the Disir.
Dagon stiffened, showing a rare sign of emotion. Is that wise? he asked.
It is necessary.
CHAPTER TWELVE
T he Witch said we should get to the Eiffel Tower by seven, and to wait
there for ten minutes, Nicholas Flamel said as they hurried down the narrow
alley. If no one shows up in that time, we are to return there at eight and
again at nine.
Who ll be there? Sophie asked, jogging to keep up with Flamel s long
stride. She was exhausted, and the few moments sitting in the caf had only
served to emphasize just how tired she was. Her legs felt leaden and there
was a sharp stitch in her left side.
The Alchemyst shrugged. I don't know. Whoever the Witch can contact.
That s assuming there is anyone in Paris willing to risk helping you,
Scathach said lightly. You are a dangerous enemy, Nicholas, and probably an
even more dangerous friend. Death and destruction have always followed
closely at your heels.
Josh glanced sidelong at his sister, knowing she was listening. She
deliberately looked away, but he knew she was uncomfortable with the
conversation.
Well, if no one turns up, Flamel said, then we ll go to plan B.
Scathach s lips curled into a humorless smile. I didn't even know we had a
plan A. What s plan B?
I haven t gotten that far yet. He grinned. Then the smile faded. I just
wish Perenelle were here; she d know what to do.
We should split up, Josh said suddenly.
Flamel, who was in the lead, glanced over his shoulder. I don't think so.
We have to, Josh said firmly. It makes sense. But as he said it, he
wondered why the Alchemyst didn't want them to split up.
Josh is right, Sophie said. The police are looking for the four of us. I m
sure they have a description by now: two teenagers, a red-haired girl and an
old man. It s not really a common group.
Old! Nicholas sounded vaguely insulted, his French accent pronounced.
Scatty is two thousand years older than I!
Yes. But the difference is that I don't look it, the Warrior teased with a
grin. Splitting up is a good idea.
Josh stopped at the mouth of the narrow alley and looked up and down. Police
sirens wailed and warbled all around them.
Sophie stood beside her brother, and while the similarity in their features
was obvious, he suddenly noticed that there were now lines on her forehead,
and her bright blue eyes had become cloudy, the irises flecked with silver.
Roux said we should turn left for the Rue de Dunkerque or right for the
Metro station.
I m not sure that splitting up Flamel hesitated.
Josh spun around. We have to, he said decisively. Sophie and I will he
began, but Nicholas shook his head, interrupting him.
OK. I agree that we should split up. But the police may be looking for
twins .
We don't look too much like twins, Sophie said quickly. Josh is taller
than me.
And you both have blond hair and bright blue eyes, and neither of you speaks
French, Scatty added. Sophie, you come with me. Two girls together will not
attract too much attention. Josh and Nicholas can go together.
I m not leaving Sophie , Josh protested, suddenly panicked at even the
thought of being separated from his sister in this strange city.
I ll be safe with Scatty, Sophie said with a smile. You worry too much.
And I know Nicholas will look after you.
Josh didn't look too sure. I d rather stay with my sister, Josh said
firmly.
Let the girls go together; it s better this way, Flamel said. Safer.
Safer? Josh said incredulously. Nothing about this is safe.
Josh! Sophie snapped, in the exact tone that their mother sometimes used.
Enough. She turned back to the Warrior. You ll need to do something with
your hair. If the police have a description of a red-haired girl in black