The Last Second (A Brit in the FBI #6)(80)

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. What is that in English?”

He said, “It is amyotrophic lateral sclerosis. It’s called ALS, Mike, a death sentence. Nothing can help. It can kill quickly, in months, or it can go years, like Stephen Hawking. When Emilie’s leg muscles became weak—we learned it is the most common symptom to begin ALS—she was diagnosed. I didn’t know what to do. I railed against fate. It was so unfair, why my daughter? Why Emilie, she is so honorable, kind, humble. She was studying medicine at the Sorbonne. She is only twenty-one.

“All my wealth, all my resources, yet I could do nothing in the face of this unrelenting, merciless disease. I realized the Holy Grail was her only hope. I knew the Grail would call to her, welcome her, cure her. Make her immortal? I don’t know. From the day of her diagnosis, every waking hour, I studied and searched. And I found it.” He choked. “And now it’s gone again. Stolen. Mike, Emilie must have it, and soon. She is now bedridden, can barely raise her arms. Soon she won’t be able to feed herself, then she will not be able to breathe and then she will die of suffocation.

“Please, Mike, promise me you will find Patel—yes, I believe you now—there could be no other, it had to be her. She is behind the theft of the Grail and my attempted murder. And the deaths of some of my crew? Yes, she is responsible.” He swallowed. “And poor Devi. Please, you must get me back the Grail. For my daughter. For Emilie.”

Mike closed her hand over his, squeezed. “I will do my best, Jean-Pierre. Both Nicholas and I will. Now think a moment: Do you believe it’s possible the Grail will give off some sort of vibrations to help us locate it?”

Grant stepped into the room. “I felt something when you brought the stone out of the sphere, Jean-Pierre. I don’t know if it was a vibration, exactly, or a hum, it was incredibly subtle, could even have been mistaken for the running of the motors on the boat under sail, but I did feel something. When you put it back in its lead box, the vibrations stopped.”

Mike said, “So if Patel takes it out of its box, it could be traced.”

Broussard said, “Perhaps. Do you have any idea where she is?”

Mike said, “We think she’s in Sri Lanka. Adam traced the sale of a massive telescope to a company called Aquarius, which we believe she owns. There is an undocumented observatory there. He’s nailing down the exact spot. Jean-Pierre, this took some years to build, and millions of dollars.”

“So she’s stolen from me. And the rest?”

“Possibly from terrorists. Now, we want to draw her out, verify exactly where she is. I’m thinking if we can let her know you’re alive, we can trace her. Your secretary—”

“Yes, that is a good plan. No, better to use Alys, Nevaeh’s secretary. All we need to do is tell her I’m alive and Al-Asaad tried to blow up Galactus, and she’ll call Nevaeh immediately to tell her.”

“And while they talk,” Grant said, “we will trace Dr. Patel’s location.”

The EMT approached them. “I must take Mr. Broussard to the hospital now.”

Mike touched Broussard lightly on the arm. “By the time you wake up from surgery, we will have stopped her. I swear I will try to find the Grail, sir. For Emilie.”

“Thank you, Mike. I was a fool, didn’t oversee Nevaeh like I should have for the past three years. And she betrayed me. Remember, she is very thorough, very smart. As for Kiera Byrne, I’ve heard rumors she’s as dangerous as Nevaeh is smart. She was trained in the IRA camps when she was young, so she knows explosives as well as small arms. My secretary, Claudette, can get you a profile so you can at least see what you’re dealing with.”

“Thank you for the warning, and the offer. We’ll call her, have her send it to Nicholas’s phone. We will succeed, Jean-Pierre. We must.”

When the EMTs wheeled Broussard away, Mike said to Grant, “We have to get Mills out of here. He suggested a body bag. It’s not a bad idea. The CIA has arranged for us to go to an airbase near here now. Are you with us?”

Grant cursed, dashed his fingers through his hair. “I want to, Mike, but the fact is Fentriss would have my butt in a sling if I left Broussard’s side. Does he still need protection? I don’t know. That CIA idiot, Mills, said he was betrayed by his captain. Maybe this terrorist has others willing to try to kill him. So I must stick close to him.

“Please stay in touch, and if you need anything, you let me know and I’ll do my best to help.” He gave her a quick hug. “Now, go find Patel and the Holy Grail. For Emilie.” He walked away after Broussard, said over his shoulder, “Hey, you might want to punch out Mills. The yahoo.”



Nicholas and Mike gave their statements to the Lyon police, gave them Pierre Menard’s name and number at Interpol, and promised to talk more as soon as they could return. The fact that they appeared to have saved Jean-Pierre Broussard from terrorists helped. The police guaranteed to guard Mr. Broussard from further possible attack while he was in the hospital.

It was easy enough to lift a body bag from the coroner’s truck, since the responders were distracted by the nine bodies Mike, Nicholas, and Grant had left scattered across Patel’s estate, these in addition to the dead team at Galactus. And easier still to carry Mills out into the backyard and put him in the back of the waiting SUV, summoned by the CIA—Carlton Grace. The driver, wearing wraparound black sunglasses, black jacket, white shirt, and tie, was behind the wheel, tapping his fingers impatiently. Mike gave him a look, then quickly called Claudette’s cell, who agreed to manage the calls between Alys and Patel. Adam set a trap on both their phones so he could monitor where they connected, hoping if Nicholas’s attempt with the satellite phone failed, they could at least try to have a generalized location for Patel.