Alarmed, Philippe had peppered his friend with questions. At first, Ian had been reluctant to answer, but he finally settled back into his chair and told Philippe about the company he worked for. It turned out that his work wasn't what he had been promised two years prior. The company was involved in dark things — so dark that Ian realized he could no longer work there. He told Philippe that he feared what his employer might do to retaliate.
Philippe spent the next few minutes trying to convince Ian to go to the authorities, but to no avail. Ian believed he needed to make his way back to the States and talk to the right people. He also said that some of the things he had discovered would be hard to prove. He even made Philippe promise that he would never discuss their conversation with anyone except his daughter, Amanda.
When Ian left the office that day, the two friends embraced. Philippe hoped that Ian’s fears were unfounded, but those hopes were dashed a few weeks later when he watched a local newscaster report on the American scientist who had been murdered on the streets of London.
Philippe had thought of calling the authorities immediately but then remembered his promise not to discuss the matter with anyone. Hearing from Amanda Higgs would solve everything, but thus far she hadn’t made contact. Thankfully, no one else had either — until that night.
That thought echoed in Philippe’s mind as he gathered himself at the back of the cathedral. He realized he needed to act quickly, so he walked down the dark corridor and into the nave. The cavernous space was mostly dark, with only a couple of small lights on near the front entrance. Stained glass windows rose majestically up on each side of the nave behind the rows of stone arches.
Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, Philippe walked in front of the altar and down a hall on the other side. He would check one thing before calling his friend who worked with the Geneva police department.
Philippe had almost reached his office when he heard a loud click. He thought it had come from the direction of the nave, but he couldn’t be sure. Sounds had an odd way of echoing in the old building. He retraced his steps and peered down the aisle, toward the front. It was mostly dark, but nothing seemed to move. It was probably the long-haired man trying to get in. Philippe smiled at the thought — it would take a small army to penetrate those doors.
He made his way back down the hall again and entered his office. There were no windows in the room, so he took the liberty of lighting a candle on his desk. The flame flickered to life, illuminating an antique desk, chairs, and a bookcase filled with various editions of the Bible and a number of theological books.
Philippe pulled out a chair, sat down, and moved the candle to the other end of the desk in order to cast light on a small black safe that sat on the floor. Philippe leaned forward and pressed a series of numbers into the safe's keypad. The keypad screen turned green, followed by a buzzing sound. He turned the handle and opened the door.
Lifting the candle, Philippe looked inside and rummaged around. He finally found what he was looking for in the back — a large black leather-bound Bible — which he promptly pulled out and set on the table. He used one hand to hold the candle and the other to open the front cover. On the first flyleaf was a handwritten note that he had read many times:
To my dear Amanda,
You were probably surprised to receive this gift, as well as hear the things that Philippe has told you. This Bible is special to me, and I want you to have it to remember me by. I have been moved by the words printed on these pages, and I was particularly blessed by the one that you told me was your favorite.
Love, Dad
Philippe smiled. It never got old reading the words that his friend had written. And he hoped that he would get to meet Amanda one day soon. He felt as though he knew her already.
With great care, the pastor slid the Bible back into the safe. As he grabbed the safe door he heard a shuffle behind him and saw the shadow of a man play against the wall. A second or two later, he heard a click and felt hard metal pressed against the side of his head. Turning slightly, he could see a pistol out of the corner of his eye.
“I wouldn’t close that if I were you,” said the long-haired man he had just seen outside.
“How… how did you—”
“You need better locks on this place.”
Philippe nervously moved his hands into the air. “What do you want from me?”
“I need your help. I tried the nice way, and you didn’t seem to like that. So guess what? Now we’re going to try it the hard way.”
“Surely you don’t expect me to help you after—”
“I have a gun pressed against your head. Of course I do.”
“Why are you doing this? I’m a pastor. What could you possibly want with me?” Philippe knew full well what the American wanted.
While still holding the barrel of the Glock against Philippe’s head, Zane reached over and turned on a nearby lamp. The light was weak, but it was enough to reveal the safe behind the desk. “What did you just put back in that safe?”
“Nothing.”
“Reverend, I don’t have time to play games,” Zane said, pushing the gun harder against Philippe’s temple.
“I was going through my safe,” he said truthfully.
“It looked like a book to me,” the American said, pulling a flashlight out of his left pocket. He directed the beam into the safe. On the top shelf, in the midst of a number of papers and folders, was a large Bible. “Hand me that.”
“I can’t. It’s—”
“Fine,” the American replied, pulling the chair back from behind the desk with Philippe still in it.
“Please, it’s not my Bible. It’s not mine, and it’s not yours,” the pastor said in a raised voice.
The American lifted the gun from his head, and Philippe wondered if he had finally seen reason. “Whose Bible is it, and why are you so protective of it?” the man said, his tone a little softer.
Philippe looked up at the ceiling and began praying.
“Whose is it?” the man asked again, poking him lightly with the pistol.
“This I will never tell you.”
Philippe had gone as far as he could go. His hope was to keep the American talking until he could think of something, but he was running out of things to say.
“I told you before, I’ll get your help one way or another.” The stranger raised the gun again.
“You don’t understand,” the pastor said. “I’m a man of God. I don’t fear death, and I’ll never tell you who I’m holding this book for.”
“Then maybe you’ll tell me,” said a female voice.
Philippe jumped at the sound of the strange voice. He looked over at the door and saw a girl. She was in her twenties and had blond hair. Another female with long, dark hair stood behind her. The man had swung around at the sound of her voice but lowered his gun when he saw who it was.
“Amanda, don’t tell him—”
Philippe stood up. “You… you are Amanda?”