The omega factor, p.15
The Omega Factor, page 15
“I take full responsibility for everything that occurred last evening,” she said in English. “I want that clear. I was the one in charge and things did not go as we expected.”
“It was an ill-gotten plan that resulted in the death of a good woman,” one of the maidens called out.
Anyone was allowed to speak without restriction or recognition, though civility was required.
“There was no need for such a rash act,” another added. “It did nothing but draw attention to something that had no attention.”
Several others chorused their agreement.
Another meeting less than a month ago had decided on the course to be taken. The vote had been a narrow one, with a significant minority, herself included, arguing that the Just Judges panel should be ignored. It had been gone since 1934 and there was no real danger emanating from its reappearance. That same minority was now re-expressing their objections, but with the added ammunition of Sister Rachel’s untimely death.
“I need not be reminded of your concerns,” the abbess interrupted and said. “A majority wanted the panel destroyed.”
“No one wanted anyone to die,” another said.
Claire faced the older woman. “Of course not. Sister Rachel sacrificed herself to ensure those images came into our possession. I doubt she thought the police would kill her. Merely arrest her. What happened was their fault, not hers, or ours.”
Her voice stayed firm, the tone certain, and she meant every word.
“We are not here to re-debate our previous decision,” the abbess made clear. “The Vestal and I have already had that discussion earlier. I am well aware how you, and she, feel. So please focus on the issue at hand.”
To be abbess was to be absolute ruler. That person could appoint and depose any of those beneath her. She decided if novices were to take their final vows and if maidens would continue in the order’s service. She made every decision within the convent and was their mother in a great many ways, treated with the greatest reverence, the person they all turned to in time of trouble. The current abbess was regarded as a mild disciplinarian, refined, courteous, but firm almost to obstinacy. A lady of pleasant and easy speech, with a memory stored with anecdotes. She was university-educated and a competent manager of the order’s affairs. Long ago it was learned that if a leader was capable, conscientious, and devoted, the collective prospered. Thankfully, the Maidens of Saint-Michael had always been blessed with competent leadership. And though Claire disagreed with the course taken, she’d never doubted the abbess. Good thing. As this place harbored a great secret. And, when it came to that, no amount of clever scheming or economy of thought could counterbalance a bad leader. All who rose to be abbess had been the best of the best.
Herself included.
“Forgive us,” one of the women said. “But it is hard to focus with Rachel dead.”
“What would you have had us do?” the abbess said to the group, and seemingly straight to those who’d voted no a month ago. “Sit back and allow the panel to be revealed? To be studied by every art expert in the world, including the Vatican? And not with a steady eye and a magnifying glass. But with the clarity of electronic high resolution. Nothing would have escaped detection. All its secrets would have been revealed. Is that what you wanted?”
“We are dealing with a work of art that was created six hundred years ago,” one of the maidens said. “Whatever secrets existed within it are long forgotten. Meaningless. To everyone.”
“Not everyone,” the abbess said. “The Vatican is always watching.”
“We don’t know that,” came the challenge. “What we guard, what we protect, could well be one nobody cares about anymore.”
Exactly what Claire believed too, and a sizable portion of the women staring at her felt the same way. Not quite a majority, as yet. But a surprising number. She’d long wondered if what they did still made sense, and Rachel’s untimely death had brought her doubts into clearer focus. But she swept those doubts aside and, acting like the Vestal, said, “Whether the Vatican or anyone else cares is irrelevant. What we all swore to do is the important matter. The vow we took before God. That is what we are obligated to follow. Perhaps I missed something, but the last I looked none of us have been released from that duty. The Just Judges was gone. Now it’s back. The threat was gone. Now it’s back. Whether we personally agree or not, we must deal with that.”
Her gaze bore in.
“I do not dispute you,” one of the women said. “But I do dispute the necessity for us to have acted in the manner in which we did. Patience was the better course.”
Many heads nodded in agreement.
And Claire did not disagree.
“What of our exposure?” one of the others asked. “Sister Rachel’s body is within police jurisdiction. She can be identified.”
“Thankfully, nothing came of their search of the convent in Ghent,” the abbess said. “Yes, there is now a connection between the panel’s destruction and us, but it’s a tenuous one. Let’s hope that the trail goes cold. All they have is the word of one man, as to what he may or may not have seen. And, yes, Rachel’s identity could be learned, but that will take time.”
“We have never been this vulnerable,” one of the women noted. “It is quite disconcerting.”
She agreed. And it was her fault.
“We can only hope that the Vatican is not vigilant,” she said. “But, as the abbess has said before, we have to assume, whether we personally agree or not, that they are.”
“Are we going to bring Rachel back?” one of the women asked. “She is a maiden and we have never abandoned anyone.”
That duty traced itself all the way back to Joan of Arc, a maiden herself, whose remains were snatched from the smoldering pyre and brought back to the mountains where they’d remained since 1431.
So her duty was clear.
“I will bring her home,” Claire said.
“And what of the electronic images?” came a question.
“I have dealt with those,” the abbess said. “They are, right now, being obtained.”
“Then what?”
“We shall destroy them,” the abbess said, “bury our sister, and, hopefully, this matter will be at an end.”
Chapter 30
Nick entered the Novotel Gent Centrum. Nothing shy about its décor, a bold modern splash of color atop white marble. Beyond a set of tall windows and glass doors at the far end he spotted an inner courtyard that accommodated a pool. He was taking a chance coming inside, but Kelsey had confirmed that the laptop was at this location and there was no way to electronically narrow that down any further. She’d checked on the internet and learned there were 117 rooms. But it wasn’t necessary to find the computer. The plan had been to learn where it was headed.
He studied the spacious interior and decided on a location inside a lobby bar where he could watch the exits and elevators without being readily seen. He sat at a small table against the wall and kept his eyes focused. He was surprised by Kelsey’s admissions, especially that she still loved him. Of course, it wasn’t the love of a man and woman, husband and wife. But a connection still existed, one that she’d obviously wanted to rekindle.
And he was glad.
If friendship was all she could offer, then he’d take what he could get.
Two nuns entered the lobby through the front doors. Older women. Dressed in the same gray dresses and veils as the other two with the laptop. More Maidens of Saint-Michael, the retired version. They calmly walked to the elevators and disappeared inside. He hustled over and watched the floor indicator stop at 3, then begin a descent.
Okay. He’d narrowed things down.
He was about to head up to the third floor when, across the busy lobby, Inspector Zeekers entered through the main doors accompanied by four uniformed officers.
He darted left and found the stairwell.
Zeekers and the other officers never saw him. They headed straight for the main desk, flashing badges and talking with the people behind the counter. He watched through a small glass window in the door. What was he doing here? It would not be long before Zeekers headed to the third floor. Kelsey had wanted to know why her prioress had betrayed her. Why the twelfth panel had been destroyed. And what was so important about the images she’d recorded. All excellent questions. Which Inspector Zeekers might or might not care to answer. But those nuns? They had answers.
He found his phone and reconnected with Kelsey. He’d ended their continuous call when he’d first entered the hotel.
“The police are here,” he told her.
“I know. I called them.”
He was shocked. “Why?”
“This is a matter for them.”
He told himself to stay cool and not show irritation. She didn’t know better. “I wish you’d run that by me first.”
“What else would we do? They have my laptop. You have them. Let the police take over.”
“Kelsey, I don’t try to tell you about God. How about you let me handle the investigatory stuff?”
“I was only—”
No time to explain. “I have to go.”
He ended the call and rushed up the metal risers two at a time. Before he reached the door for the third floor it opened and four nuns hastily entered the stairwell. The two from the market along with the two older women who’d just arrived. One held the laptop. Another carried two small knapsacks.
They froze and stared at him.
“Now, this is awkward,” he said. Then he raised his hands in mock surrender. “I’m not your enemy. Okay?”
None of them said a word.
“The prioress told you the password, so you’ve surely discovered there are no images on that machine. I removed them.”
He could see that admission drew their interest.
“I have them safely tucked away. So that cow is gone from the barn, if you get my drift.”
He could see they did.
“We need to leave,” one of the younger nuns said. “The police are here.”
“I know. But that wasn’t my doing. I’m here to help with that.”
“We should trust him,” one of the older women said. “We really have little choice.”
The younger nun, the one with the bruise, nodded.
He pointed. “Sorry about that smack to the face.”
“I’m not sorry for the kick to your gut.”
He smiled. “No, I imagine you’re not. Let me deal with the police. I’ll buy you time to get out.”
They still did not move.
“Or you can stay and take your chances with them,” he added.
“All right,” the one with the bruised face said.
“Head down to the underground parking garage,” he said. “I saw a sign on the ground floor that pointed an arrow downward. I’ll deal with Inspector Zeekers. He’s with the General Directorate of Judicial Police. You people have attracted the big boys.”
“Along with the United Nations?” the older women asked.
“It would seem so.”
Apparently, he’d been checked out too.
He stepped aside and motioned for them to go.
They passed without a word.
“Oh, by the way.”
They stopped and turned around.
“Here’s my cell phone number.”
And he rattled it off. One of the younger nuns produced a phone and entered the digits. His phone buzzed in his pocket.
“That’s mine,” she said.
He nodded. “Call me when you’re ready to talk. I might be able to help contain those images.”
They started to leave.
“Ladies,” he said. “One more thing. That laptop is being tracked. It’s how I found you. Leave it there. Let the police find it.”
The younger nun nodded and the other woman laid it on one of the steps.
And they left.
He headed up to the third floor and exited the stairwell just as the elevator dinged and the car door opened. Zeekers and two of the uniforms marched off. He hoped the other two were stationed in the lobby and not watching the stairs or garage.
“Monsieur Lee,” Zeekers said. “Sister Deal alerted us to your presence. The nuns are on this floor. Which you seem to already know.”
“I followed them here but wasn’t able to see which room they entered. I was trying to not be detected, until you arrived.”
He was acting like he was in on the call to the police.
Zeekers nodded. “Sister Deal explained about the laptop and what you did. Let’s see what these nuns have to say today.”
The inspector led the way to a door marked “307” and used a key card to gain access. Inside was a spacious room with laminated furniture, a queen-sized bed, and a large bathroom. Views of Saint Bavos could be seen through the windows. But no people. No clothes or possessions.
“I don’t understand,” Zeekers said. “The hotel says this is their room. They checked in late last night.” Zeekers motioned and one of the uniforms found a radio and asked what was happening at their location. “All clear,” was the response. Nick caught the annoyance on the inspector’s face.
Zeekers found his cell phone and tapped the screen. “Sister Deal, are you still tracking the computer?” He listened a moment, then ended the call. “She says it’s still at this location.”
“It’s a big hotel,” he pointed out.
Thankfully, the inspector wasn’t pressing him on what happened, thinking him an ally. After all, he and Kelsey had led him here.
“Seal this floor,” Zeekers said to the uniforms, “then search all the rooms.”
The two men nodded and hurried off.
“This is all quite strange,” Zeekers said to him.
“I agree,” Nick answered.
In more ways than one.
Chapter 31
Bernat completed the arduous climb to the mount at Montségur. He’d come early to make the trek. A pilgrimage of sorts. One he’d made many times before.
The loose soil and pebbles along the way presented their usual challenge. The steep rocky path wound up the cliff face through stands of cypress and pine, fragrant in the spring air. The wind had steadily increased, blowing with more gusto the higher he went. Stops had been created at points along the way and he’d lingered at one that offered a panoramic view of the forests below. He’d studied the car park and spotted Andre, discreetly placed to keep a watchful eye out for their visitor, who was expected to arrive in an hour or so.
The castle ruin loomed above him, ferocious and unwelcoming. Almost threatening. As if warning him not to come closer. The mountain’s sheer power and height had surely once proved the citadel’s best defense. Bringing a fully equipped army up here for an attack would have been nearly impossible. No wonder a siege mentality had prevailed.
The fortress itself was simple in design. A single postern, a massive keep, walls reinforced by limestone rock surrounding a long central courtyard. Once it had been home to several hundred. Now it seemed icy cold, nearly corpselike. Tour guides loved to link the fortress with the Cathars. And there was a connection, just not with this ruin. It was not the original stronghold. Instead, it was a seventeenth-century French border post destroyed during a war. The original castle had been razed in 1244, just after the Cathars surrendered the site.
He trudged toward an opening in the crumbling wall. A north wind whipped with no mercy, rushing across him as if angry. Scattered clouds overhead cast shadows. Once he was inside, the walls blocked the wind, offering a feeling of protection, but also one of isolation as nothing could be seen past the stone. A few other visitors had braved the climb and were enjoying the reverent ambience.
He exited the enclosed space through a doorway in the wall, finding a precipice, staring across an emerald-green valley that stretched for as far as he could see, ending at high peaks on the horizon. Patches of light swept across the hillsides. Above, a hawk rode the warm currents. The breeze whipped his hair. He wanted to stretch out his arms and ride the wind too. Where the other side of the pog from which he’d come was climbable, this part dropped in a sheer fall of over twelve hundred meters. As no barriers blocked any approach to the edge, it would be an easy matter to leap right off. The height and grand vista energized him.
Like always.
This was a holy place, despite the tour guides’ lies.
And the perfect location.
To finally confront the devil.
“He is not my child,” the priest said, voice rising. “Please do not say that again.”
Bernat stood outside the rectory, beneath an open window. He’d followed his mother from their home, across the streets of Pau, to here. She’d been upset all morning. When she’d knocked on the rectory door and entered he’d thought her need spiritual and almost left. But something had told him to be sure.
So he’d found the window.
He’d lived in Pau all ten years of his life, enjoying hikes in the nearby mountains and swims in the icy-cold lakes. All had been great until six months ago, when his father suddenly died, his heart giving out. His mother had taken the loss hard but, true to her good nature, she’d rebounded.
But what was she doing now?
“Why do you lie?” his mother asked in her soft voice. “Why hurt me like this?”
“I do not mean to hurt you. I am simply telling the truth. I have no child.”
“But you do. I have kept this to myself all these years out of respect to my husband. With him now dead, it is time for you to know the truth.”
He was shocked at what his mother had said.
It couldn’t be.
“Do you deny what happened between us?” his mother asked. “How could you possibly?”
“Madam—”
