The Last Second (A Brit in the FBI #6)(11)
“You have never told me how you came to be hunting for the Holy Grail.”
He sat down, brought her onto his lap. “No, do not kiss me, I don’t want to lose my thread.” He closed his hands loosely around her waist. “I will tell you. At first it wasn’t about the Holy Grail, I scarcely knew anything about it. I grew up in Lyon, as you know, and there wasn’t much to do. We had a store that rented movies on those dreadful VHS tapes. I had read about Jacques Cousteau and his underwater discoveries, and was looking for something similar to watch. The owner of the store had a private collection of bootleg movies he received from friends in the United States. There was one that told the story of a treasure hunter in Florida named Mel Fisher who discovered the sunken Spanish galleon Nuestra Se?ora de Atocha, and recovered four hundred and fifty million dollars in treasure—gold, silver, emeralds, rubies—forty tons of gold.”
Her eyes never left his face. He loved her curiosity, her focus on him as if she wanted to pull the words out of his mouth. Did she care for him? He hoped so. He continued, “As you can imagine, to a ten-year-old boy interested in treasure hunting and diving, this was an incredible discovery. I decided on the spot I was going to become a treasure hunter. I began reading books on lost treasure. So many lost ships, so many stories to follow, and I’ve found my share, to be sure. But in the past three years, as you know, I’ve sought the biggest treasure of them all.”
She whispered, “The Heaven Stone—the Holy Grail.”
“Yes. I suppose you could say I must find it or I will lose my desire for all of this.” He waved his hand around. “Yes, I must find it and soon, very soon now.” He touched his hand to his heart. “I feel it here. Soon I will have it.”
She cocked her head to one side. “I don’t understand. Why is the Grail so important to you? It’s as if your life will no longer be worth living if you don’t find it.”
He wasn’t certain what to say, and he didn’t have to speak, for he heard his dive captain yelling in the hall.
“Captain! Captain! We need you!”
Jean-Pierre lifted her off his lap. “Now what is this all about?” He yelled, “Come.”
Cesar Lourdes stood in the doorway, a mask in one hand, water streaming from his stringy ponytail, a huge grin on his face. “Boss, I’d thought we’d found something, before, well, it wasn’t the Grail, but now—this might be the Grail, you must come.”
Jean-Pierre’s adrenaline spiked, his heart kettledrummed in his chest. He and Devi followed Cesar to the aft portion of the bridge where the dive was being coordinated. As they walked, Cesar said, “I was on the reef site, kicking around in the silt, seeing what I could find, and I knocked into something pretty big, bigger than the rest of the chests we’ve recovered or marked for recovery. And very different. I ran the portable X-ray over it and, sir—there’s something inside, and it doesn’t seem to be fastened to anything. It’s very strange.”
Keep calm, keep calm. “How big are we talking?”
“Hard to tell. The container, it seems to be a sort of sphere, only a bit elongated, maybe ten feet or so high.”
Devi said, “Since the Grail isn’t supposed to be so large, Jean-Pierre, then maybe it’s the strange thing inside this sphere?”
It is, it is, it has to be. He said, “Possibly.”
Cesar said, “I believe the container is made of iron. It’s immensely heavy.”
Devi said, “Why would the Grail be inside something made of iron? To protect it?” She paused, blinked up at Jean-Pierre. “Or protect us?”
Jean-Pierre gave her a long look. “Only one way to find out.” He knew then, knew to his soul. It was the Holy Grail. He said, “Let’s get up my stone. Devi, what’s wrong? Don’t you wish to stay?”
“I’m sorry, Jean-Pierre. My stomach—I do not feel well. You will show me everything later.”
“Of course, of course,” he said over his shoulder, not really paying her any more attention, his focus on the winch bringing up the container.
Devi walked away, doing her best to look relaxed, to look at her ease. But she did feel sick to her stomach, sick for what she was doing to this excellent man, this man with such a mighty life force that made him burn so brightly. She had no choice. No choice. When she’d first come to him, she’d expected this wealthy Frenchman to treat her like the bauble she was when presented to him, a plaything, to give him great sex and amuse him, and she was prepared to play her part well. Again, no choice. But she hadn’t expected to like him, to admire him, to find his passion for finding the Holy Grail, something she’d always believed no more than a romantic legend, fascinating, mesmerizing. What would he think when he learned she’d betrayed him?
On the sun deck, Devi eased down on a chaise, turned away from two young crewmen after she’d waved at them, and reached into her bag. She drew out a mobile satellite phone with a special program installed. Every message sent and received—email or text—would self-destruct within two hours. As long as she kept it hidden, she was safe.
She tapped in a few words. He believes he’s found it. It’s inside a huge iron sphere. Will update soon.
Moments later, a reply appeared. Very good. Keep me apprised. What are your current coordinates?