Hearing that, Finn snorted derisively. ‘I’ve killed enough men in the line of duty to know you don’t gain a whole lot of satisfaction from pulling the trigger. I’m talking about hauling the Dark Angel into a court of law so that he can be tried and sentenced. More than anything else, I want him to be publicly held to account for slaying two American heroes.’
‘What if you can’t find him?’ she countered, thinking it might prove a difficult, if not impossible, challenge. ‘Other than his cryptic nom de guerre, you don’t know anything about the killer.’
Getting up from the sofa, Finn snatched her coffee mug and walked over to the kitchenette that was located a few feet away. ‘Actually, I do know one other thing about the killer,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘The fact that Jutier went to such lengths to protect his identity makes me think that the Dark Angel is one of ’em.’
‘You mean a member of the Seven rather than a paid assassin?’ When he nodded, Kate followed up by saying, ‘Fabius Jutier’s tattoo may provide a clue. Do you mind if I have a look at the digital photograph?’
Finn unhooked the cell phone from his waistband and scrolled through the log. Walking back to the sofa, he handed her the device. ‘Any idea what it means?’
Trying to ignore the fact that she was staring at a photo of a corpse, she examined the disturbing tattoo. ‘While I’m not a rune expert, I know that in the ancient Norse poems, runes were considered a magical talisman, capable of bringing the dead back to life. And during the Third Reich, there were a number of occult groups that used runes in their rituals. That said, the runes suggest that Fabius Jutier was involved in some type of esoteric Nazism.’
‘I take it that’s different from the goose-stepping variety?’
‘Different in that esoteric Nazism was, and still is, a pseudo-religious belief. While my knowledge of the Nazi movement is rudimentary, I do know that during the nineteen thirties and forties, esoteric Nazis were obsessed with finding sacred objects d’art such as the relics of the Bible, medieval icons and Egyptian artefacts. It’s well documented that they sent archaeology teams all over Europe and the Middle East.’
‘Yeah, I saw the movie,’ Finn deadpanned. ‘But instead of the Ark of the Covenant, our bad guys are looking for the Montségur Medallion.’
‘So it would seem.’
Finn headed towards the dinette table situated on the other side of the living room. ‘I’m gonna try to hack into Frenchie’s computer. There might be something on it that I can use to track down the Seven.’
‘Um, count me out,’ she demurred.
Kate set the cell phone on the coffee table next to the medallion. The sudden motion cost her, the pain radiating up her spine and across her shoulders. Somewhat gingerly, she rose to her feet, only to teeter precariously to one side. Feeling like a shipwrecked woman washed ashore, she kicked off her shoes and limped over to the window.
Although she knew it was a pointless exercise, she pulled the dun-brown drapery to one side, needing to verify that the world still turned on its figurative axis. In the distance, the white spire of the Washington Monument gleamed theatrically, lit from below with giant floodlights. Directly across the river was the Pentagon.
God, what I wouldn’t give to put back the clock. Since Finn McGuire had unexpectedly got into her car at the Pentagon, her life had become a surreal blur of events. Elegant embassy party. Dead man with bizarre tattoo. High-speed chase. Armed assailants. And the capstone, a bomb blast that destroyed her home.
And wasn’t that a bitter irony?
After her infant son died, she lost the will to live, feeling as though someone had driven a railroad spike through her heart, pinning her to the tracks. Except the train never came to take her out of her misery. And then, one morning, she woke up and for the first time in nearly two years she could hear the birds chirping outside the window. Could feel the sun on her face. Could taste the sweetness of sugar in her coffee. Small everyday moments that most people take for granted. The fact that she experienced an instant’s joy in them made her realize that she wanted to live. To make that clichéd fresh start.
And just when she’d decided to return to the land of the living, some group called the Seven decided that they wanted her dead.
Thank God she’d had the foresight to create a digital photo album with all of Sammy’s pictures, the CD in her safe deposit box at the bank. She could bear losing the contents of her house, but not that. Those were the only memories that truly counted.
And I can only savour those cherished memories if I stay alive.
Pensively staring out of the window, Kate could feel the onslaught of emotion about to rear its ugly head. So many ugly heads. So many crashing fears and colliding thoughts. Keep running. Don’t stop. If you do, they will hunt you down and kill you.
After the 1941 attack on Pearl Harbor, Japanese Americans were forcibly rounded up and interned in ‘War Relocation Camps’. Refusing to be separated from her husband, Kate’s grandmother accompanied her husband Yoshiro Tanaka when he was loaded on to the train bound for the Manzanar Camp. She was the only Caucasian in the internment facility other than the military police who guarded the compound. Like so many thousands of loyal Americans of Japanese descent, in the blink of an eye her grandparents lost their home, their livelihood and their community. She’d often wondered how they survived the shock of having their lives pulled out from under them. Now she knew.
You just put one foot in front of the other and keep on trudging.
Ready to trudge forward, Kate let the curtain fall back into place. Peering over her shoulder, she stared contemplatively at the man seated at the table.
Finn McGuire was the last person she ever thought she’d turn to for help. The fact that she had to turn to anyone made her acutely uncomfortable. After her husband’s hideous betrayal, trust didn’t come easy to her, although she sensed that Sergeant McGuire was loyal to a fault when it came to his brothers-in-arms.
Even though I don’t know him, I can trust him to keep me alive.
That might be the only thing that she could trust him with. So be it. She needed a bodyguard, not a lifetime companion. And though nervous about spending an extended amount of time with a man she barely knew, the other option – going it alone – would be a death sentence.
16
‘So, how are we coming along with computer hacking?’
‘I was able to get on to Jutier’s desktop, but I can’t access any of his personal files without a password,’ Finn muttered, surprised by Kate’s sudden interest.
‘Mind if I have a look?’
‘Help yourself. Although I didn’t peg you for the type who approved of computer hacking.’ Particularly given the stink she raised when he snatched the laptop from Jutier’s office.
Sitting down at a dinette chair, Kate swivelled the computer in her direction. ‘Since you’re locked out of Jutier’s files, it’s technically not hacking. I just want to take a quick peek at his desktop. You know. Curiosity. The cat.’ As soon as she said it, she winced. ‘How weird is that? We’ve been in each other’s company for only a few hours and I’m already starting to sound like you.’
‘Just as long as you don’t start looking like me.’
‘God forbid.’ As she said it, Kate’s gaze dropped to his right hand. An instant later, evidently realizing what she’d done, she glanced away.
‘Luckily, the Syrian who pulled the trigger was a lousy shot. All he got was my finger,’ Finn told her, trying to put a nonchalant spin on a potentially awkward moment.