The godlike powers of his master were absolute. Years before his supposed birth in 1712 it was believed that Saint Germain — under a different, famous title — faked his death, attended his own funeral, and made his way from England to Transylvania where the new legend was then born. The Count’s ‘magnum opus’ was the search for the Philosopher’s Stone that, far from being an inanimate object as many believed, was actually a living, breathing, scorching alchemical substance able to impart immortality into those who drank it. For centuries it was the most sought after prize among men.
Very few found it.
Webb didn’t believe every legend, every myth, but his investigations into Saint Germain and the man’s many attributes, accomplishments and dealings pointed to truth. Who else in history could mix a previously unknown substance for the good of man one day, compose a sonnet the next and then head out to deal with kings and commanders in the hopes of staving off a war? This romance, this brilliant and wondrous narrative, captured his imagination long ago but became more and more intriguing as months and years of deep investigation rolled by. Webb became convinced. He’d learned of Leopold and the scroll and used Ramses’ last bazaar to obtain it.
Full circle. The crowds thickened as Webb headed down Piccadilly. Maybe he should have taken Regent Street for even more anonymity but the decision was made now. Then he saw an Eat on the corner of Swallow Street, headed up that quiet road and switched to Saville Row. The police would be out in force. Webb needed to hide, but he also needed to move forward.
Germany next, for the penultimate prize and then…
He faltered. Nobody knew. Where was the ultimate goal, the final objective?
Shaking it off, he gripped the composition tighter. It held clues for the Germany trip. Interestingly, it was full circle for Beau too. He tapped the Frenchman on the shoulder as they hurried past a shop named Huntsman and Son.
“I have to admit there were times I had my doubts, but you did well, Beau. You switched sides so easily. Made them believe.”
“They believed Michael Crouch. They believed Alicia Myles. The hardest part was convincing Crouch. He is wily and intellectual. But the time I took won him over. It was good we began so early.”
Webb agreed. “And despite all that business in New York, which we did not plan for, all seems to be right with the world.” He then turned slowly to his other companion. “Except for you.”
Sabrina had made no move to leave them. She knew of Beauregard’s reputation and Webb’s hidden arsenal. Her face, acceptably, was turned to the floor, her shoulders slumped. She made no comment.
“For years I held you under retainer, paid your way. I always kept you in mind for this, the final chapter of my mortality. You. You, Sabrina! My chosen acolyte a decade in the planning and…” he tailed off, unable to accept her deceit and wiping at the tears in his eyes. “Truly, I am shocked.”
“Shall we… drop her off?” Beau murmured.
Webb shrieked a gout of laughter. “Don’t be an ass. Despite her stupidity she is the best thief in the world. We still require her skills, of course, for the next job and then, potentially, the final one. It would be cutting at our noses to spite our faces if we… dropped her off now.”
Beau accepted this in silence.
Webb contemplated the middle-distance. “That doesn’t mean she shouldn’t be taught the error of her ways,” he mouthed. “When opportunity knocks.”
Sabrina made no movement save for walking. Beau allowed a brief nod. The threesome twisted along several side streets, crossed Oxford Street and headed toward Bayswater. Webb stopped in a street behind a hotel and nodded at the man standing outside, smoking a cigarette.
Beau shifted slightly. “Friend?”
“I have none. But the best hiding places usually go to those with the biggest wallets and there is a, shall we say dastardly, shadow network of bellhops, doormen, hotel receptionists and restaurant serving staff operating in London that can find you the quietest of places to hole up for a while.”
“Interesting.”
“Isn’t it? These people are the true heart of this city. Little happens here that they don’t see. Few people pass by that they don’t note. Everything and everyone is currency to the network.”
“And we are?”
“Rich and privileged.” Webb laughed and approached the smoking man. In moments they were off the street and being led through dark rooms that appeared to have no purpose, along a corridor that hadn’t been cleaned in years. Webb wasn’t fussy where they ended up so long as it gave them some breathing space.
He needed to study the composition.
“Four hours,” he told the man. “Then, an unmarked taxi. I’ll tell him the destination en route.”
“Just ring the bell,” an eastern European accent rang out, and the man indicated a button set into the wall.
Webb settled in one overstuffed chair. “Get comfy, people. Sabrina — I do believe it’s time for Beau to deal out your comeuppance whilst I read quietly, don’t you?”
“If you want my help you will hold your fists,” the Italian sputtered.
“Then you will assist me when I command it. Is that understood?”
“Only if your pet freak leaves me alone.”
Webb felt the pull of the composition almost as if Saint Germain was calling his name, calling him toward the extraordinary. Without a nod for Beau to refrain he opened up the old papers and began to read.
“Here we move into legend,” he said. “And the Devil take all who oppose us.”
CHAPTER FORTY THREE
Drake stumbled as an entire shelf of books thumped and clattered down his back, hard edges hammering his spine. Ahead, a stack of crates toppled, hitting the floor with an ear-splitting crash and filling his vision with dust and debris. Dahl cleared a path through, kicking and wrenching the wreckage apart. Another shelf, this one over eight feet high, threatened to crash among them and the tottering heavy pots and urns, the statues and oversized artefacts, promised more than just bruises if they fell.
Mai pulled away. Drake herded Alicia past the last shelf as it collapsed. Dahl made the exit door, then turned to help Lauren and Smyth through. Hayden found herself propelled by Kinimaka so that her feet practically skimmed the ground. Yorgi sprang, nimble and fleet as a cat, picking his way through the destruction. Kenzie came last and then, only inches behind, Drake. As they raced, the rumbling eased and quieted, the shake of the building stopped. Only seconds had passed since the localized explosive went off.
Drake slowed, staring back the way they had come. No chance of them following Webb; the floor was nothing but rubble, the endless high stacks crumpled and ruined.
“Some treasures never see the light of day because scientists can’t explain them,” he said. “We learned that from the Odin thing. These treasures… stored, hidden perhaps, now spoilt, will end their days in devastation.”
“Don’t get over-weepy,” Alicia huffed. “Most of them do.”
A sense of the surreal and the incredulous hung over the team. Drake summed it up in true Yorkshire fashion. “So that French arse-end is gonna need a slap, no mistake.”
Dahl, for once, just nodded. “I’ll be happy to oblige.”
Hayden made a phone call, explained the situation, and asked for all eyes to be turned toward Webb. She also mentioned they might still have an ally in Sabrina without tabling the question as to the thief’s fate. All there hoped Webb had further uses for her. Truth be told, he had to have known she was compromised in the first place — yet still he’d desperately used her services. And the quest was not yet done.