Antonia frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
Am I free to take the elixir with me? Does the guardian let the seeker take the bottle away? Or is the next round in that Mauser reserved for me?’
Her eyes twinkled with mirth and Ben could see the family resemblance to Fulcanelli’s portrait. She laid her hand on the elegant old pistol in front of her. ‘It was my grandfather’s gun. He left it to my mother, in case our enemies ever found us here. But it’s not meant for you, Ben. My grandfather believed that one day a true initiate would decipher the clues he left behind, and would come and find the secret. Someone pure of heart who would respect its power, never abuse it or publicize it.’
‘That’s a big chance to take on me,’ he said. ‘How can you be certain I’m so pure of heart?’
Antonia looked tenderly at Ben. ‘You are thinking only of the child. I can see that in your eyes.’
Rome
A procession of unmarked police cars wound their way between the lavish gardens of the Renaissance villa and pulled up in an orderly semicircle in the courtyard at the foot of the grand white columns.
From his window, high up in the magnificent dome, Archbishop Massimiliano Usberti watched them get out of their cars, brush by his servants and climb the steps to the house. Their faces were dour and official. He’d been expecting them.
Thanks to one man, Benedict Hope, Gladius Domini had been badly damaged. For all his seething hatred, Usberti had to admire the man. He hadn’t believed he could be so easily outdone, but somehow Hope had done it. Usberti had been bettered, and he was impressed.
The attack had been swift and decisive. First the simultaneous arrest of his top French agent Saul and the disaster in Montpellier. Then the highly coordinated Interpol swoop on his people across Europe. Many of his agents were under questioning. Some, like Fabrizio Severini, had gone into hiding. Others had folded under police interrogation. Like a row of falling dominoes, like a blazing powder-trail of information, the investigation had led with alarming speed all the way to the top, all the way to him.
He could hear voices on the stairs leading up to the dome. They’d be here any minute. They probably thought they had him.
Fools. They had no idea who they were dealing with. A man like Massimiliano Usberti, with the contacts and influence they could never even begin to imagine, wasn’t going to go down easily. He’d find a way out of this mess, and then he’d come back and take his revenge.
The door burst open at the far end of the room, and Usberti calmly turned from the window to meet them.
Ben had called Fairfax to say the mission was completed and he was coming in. There were a few spare hours before the private jet was due to pick him up at the airport near Montpellier.
Father Pascal was tending to his little vineyard when he heard the gate creak and he looked up to see Ben coming towards him with a broad smile. The priest embraced him warmly. ‘Benedict, I knew you would come back to see me again.’
‘I haven’t got much time, Father. I just wanted to thank you again for all your help.’
Pascal’s eyes widened with concern. ‘And Roberta? Is she…’
‘Safely back home in the USA.’
The priest let out a sigh. ‘Thank the Lord she is all right,’ he breathed. And so, your work is done here?’
‘Yes, I’m going back this afternoon.’
‘Well, then it is goodbye, my dear friend. Look after yourself, Benedict. May the Lord be with you and watch over you. I will miss you…Oh, how foolish of me, I nearly forgot. I have a message for you.’
Ben was feeling self-conscious as the nurse showed him into the private room. The police guard had been lifted after his call to Luc Simon earlier.
Anna was sitting up in her bed, reading a book. Behind her, sunlight streamed through her window. She was surrounded by vases of yellow, white and red roses that filled the room with sweet perfume. She looked up as Ben came in, and her face spread into a smile. Her right cheek was covered with a large gauze dressing.
‘It’s good to see you again,’ he said. He was hoping she wouldn’t notice the nervous edge in his voice.
‘I woke up this morning to find all these beautiful flowers. Thank you so much.’
‘It’s the least I could do,’ he said. He looked uncomfortably at the mottled bruises around her eye and forehead. ‘Anna, I’m so sorry for what happened to you. And your friend…’
She laid her hand on his arm, and he bowed his head. ‘It wasn’t your fault, Ben,’ she said softly. ‘If you hadn’t come, he was going to murder me. You saved my life.’
‘If it’s any consolation, that man is dead now.’
She didn’t reply.
‘What are your plans, Anna?’
She sighed. ‘I think I’ve seen enough of France. It’s time I went back to Florence. Perhaps I can get my old job back at the university.’ She chuckled. ‘And perhaps one day–who knows?–I’ll finish my book.’
‘I’ll look out for it,’ he said. He checked his watch. ‘I have to go. There’s a plane waiting for me.’
‘You’re going back home? Did you find the thing you were looking for?’
‘I don’t know what I found.’
She reached out and grasped his hand. ‘It was a map, wasn’t it?’ she breathed. ‘The diagram? It came to me, as I was lying here. So stupid not to have thought of it…’
He sat on the edge of the bed and squeezed her hand. ‘Yes, it was a map,’ he said. ‘But take my advice and just forget everything you know about this stuff. It attracts the wrong kind of people.’
Anna smiled. ‘I noticed.’
They sat quietly together in the stillness of the flower-filled room for a while longer, then she looked at him searchingly with her almond eyes. ‘Do you ever go to Italy, Ben?’
‘From time to time.’
Gently, insistently, she pulled his hand towards her, and he leaned down. She sat up straighter in the bed and pressed her lips to his cheek. They were warm and soft, and her touch lingered for a few seconds. ‘If you should ever find yourself in Florence,’ she murmured in his ear, ‘you must give me a call.’
Three hours later Ben was sitting in the back of the Bentley Arnage for the second time on his way to the Fairfax residence. Dusk was beginning to fall as they swept down the leaf-strewn lanes between rows of golden beeches and sycamores, and pulled in through the gates of the Fairfax estate. The Bentley passed the neat little red-brick estate cottages that Ben remembered from his first visit.
A short way further down the private road, the car began to pull to the right and Ben could feel a faint bumping from the front end. The driver swore quietly to himself, stopped the car and climbed out to see what the matter was. He poked his head back in through the open door. ‘I’m sorry, sir. Puncture.’
Ben got out as the driver fetched the tools from the back of the car and unhitched the spare wheel. ‘Need any help?’ he asked.
‘No, sir, it’ll only take a few minutes,’ the driver said.
As he started unbolting the wheel, the door of a nearby estate cottage opened and an elderly man in