The Last Second (A Brit in the FBI #6)(56)

Ten years? No, she couldn’t wait ten years to return to the Numen.

“Dr. Patel? Are you still there?”

“I am, sir.” She drew a deep breath. “I think we can do it in five years.”

He burst out in a big belly laugh. “I hope that means you still want to come to work for me? I promise the salary will be worth your while, loads of vacation—why, you can even join me on my yacht for off-site work anytime you please. I spend a great deal of time on the seas—in addition to my aerospace work. I’m a treasure hunter.”

“Yes, sir, I’m aware of that.” The world was suddenly bright, full of promise. “Mr. Broussard, I would love to come work for you.”

“Excellent. Let’s get you on The Griffon as soon as possible and we can start our plans. Oh, and it’s Galactus, Dr. Patel. The company’s name is Galactus.”



She told the Numen, “I must know, I must be certain what she did.” And they agreed.

She made one last appointment with Dr. Fontaine.

Fontaine met her at the door, smiling. She wore a cream linen blazer and black slacks. She looked fit and sharp, and Nevaeh, still hopeful, complimented her new hairstyle. Blah, blah, blah, she only wanted the truth, wanted to hear it from Fontaine’s mouth.

When they were settled, Dr. Fontaine gave her that sweet, noncommittal smile and said, “How have you been, Nevaeh?”

“I’m quite well, actually. I’m taking a new job, working for Galactus Space Industries. They are starting a program to perfect reusable rockets, which will help drive down the cost of putting material—and people—into space.” She paused a moment, crossed her legs, gave Fontaine a smile full of teeth. “As you can imagine, my day-to-day life will be demanding from morning to night—endless responsibilities, endless decisions, deadlines, in other words, constant stress.” She paused, leaned forward, lowered her voice. “Dr. Fontaine, if I were schizophrenic, or suffering from delusions or dissociative episodes, would I dare to take on this challenge? Would I dare to work hard to make this company a powerhouse in space exploration?”

Fontaine didn’t appear to notice the clip to her words. “I’m thrilled for you. So the REST therapy worked for you?”

“Evidently something worked.”

“I am so glad to hear it. A brilliant mind like your own—well, it’s wonderful to see you getting back to your life. Dr. Patel.”

Was the woman tone-deaf? Nevaeh slowly rose to her feet, leaned over the desk. “Dr. Fontaine, I have only one question.”

“Anything.”

“Why did you sell me out to Dr. Holloway at NASA?”

The doctor’s face grew wary, her eyes shifted away. “I’m sorry?”

“I know you consulted with her. I also know speaking with her was unethical, immoral, and illegal. I should be filing a lawsuit against you, so you wouldn’t be able to betray anyone else coming to you seeking help. I should complain to the medical board, make sure your license to practice is revoked.”

She saw fear in Fontaine’s eyes, and alarm. It was wonderful to see. “I—I—”

Nevaeh straightened, walked slowly to the door. She turned, said over her shoulder, “You sold me out. You are despicable. Do you know, some dark night, when you least expect it, I could slip a knife into your ribs, or poison your evening glass of wine? It would be so simple for me to end you. It’s the justice you deserve.”

Fontaine’s face was white, she was trembling.

Nevaeh said quietly, “Dr. Fontaine, you should pray we don’t meet again.”

She closed the door quietly behind her. She heard the Numen humming. “Yes,” she told them, “I faced down that unethical, deceiving bitch.”

Soon, soon. She was restarting her life. Ah, but her goals were clear.





CHAPTER FORTY-ONE


T-MINUS 32 HOURS

In Wolfram’s account, the Grail is a stone that fell from the heavens. It is by the power of this stone that the phoenix rises from the ashes. Hence Wagner’s reference to the “meteoric stone” in the mosque at Mecca.

—www.monsalvat.no

Blue Mountain Gulfstream

Somewhere over Israel

Mike jerked awake when they hit turbulence. She saw Nicholas and Grant were still dead to the world, but Broussard’s eyes were open. He stretched his arms over his head, nodded to her. He looked clear and calm; the short rest had done him good.

He said quietly, “I must apologize to you and your partner for my shortness with you. You’re doing your jobs, and believe me, I do appreciate your help. I have lost so much, I fear I lost my manners as well.” He looked down at his clasped hands. “It is not an excuse, but I lost four of my crew, men I’ve known for years.” He paused, then swallowed, and his voice sounded raw with pain. “Devi. If it turns out she betrayed me, well, there has to be a reason. Grant believes her sister was being held as a hostage.”

Mike said, “You also lost the—stone.”

“Call it by its name, Mike. The Holy Grail.”

She nodded. “It’s difficult.”

“Yes, I know. But it is real and its loss is more than I can bear.” He turned away, said no more.

“Jean-Pierre, how did you know the Holy Grail was in the wreckage of the Flor de la Mar? Why would something so magical, mystical, if you will, be aboard a ship that went down in the Strait of Malacca?”