The Omega Factor(102)

“Andre Labelle.”

He knew that name. From last night. The person who’d videoed him leaving Father Tallard’s house.

Surely de Foix’s accomplice.

Careful. Careful.

“Might I step away from this cliff?” he asked. “Then we can talk more.”

Labelle pointed at him. “You’ll stay right there.”

He raised both hands in surrender. “Okay.”

“Where is Bernat de Foix?”

“You speak as if something has happened to him. Why do you think that?”

“He disappeared during the night. Where is he?”

He started to step forward, away from the edge, but Labelle quickly blocked his way.

“I’ll shove you right over the side, if you try to get around me,” Labelle said.

And he believed every word.

So he stood still.

The wind kept whipping, drying his lips.

“I was one of those Father Tallard abused,” Labelle said. “He touched me. Hugged me. Kissed me. He. Violated. Me.”

“I am so sorry. Truly I am.”

“No, you’re not. You’re only sorry that it was all revealed.”

“Andre—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Monsieur Labelle, Father Tallard was a bad man. He was in the process of being prosecuted when he died. A death that Bernat de Foix was definitely involved with.”

“As was I.”

“You and de Foix are both Cathar. Yet you killed?”

“We killed no one.”

“But others did, who are not Cathar.”

“For many are our sins wherein we offend every day, night and day, in word, in deed, and by thought, voluntarily and involuntarily, and more by our will which evil spirits arouse in us, in the flesh in which we are clothed.”

“Is that a prayer?”

“The Apareilamentum. A general confession that all Perfecti recite every month when we profess our sins. Whereas the holy word of God teaches us we should put aside every desire of the flesh and every impurity and we should do the will of God by accomplishing perfect good. That man dying, going to your hell, was the perfect good.”

“I could not agree more. He would have been convicted and spent the rest of his life in jail.”

“Not good enough,” Labelle yelled. “Not even close.”

“Calm down. Nothing positive ever comes from anger.” Something occurred to him. “How did you find me here?”

“I followed you from Toulouse.”

This man had definitely connected the dots. He’d thought with de Foix’s demise, and all of the electronic evidence erased, that his problem was over.

But he was wrong.

Andre Labelle knew way too much.





Chapter 68



Nick stayed hidden in his perch. The abbess, Kelsey, and the remaining seven maidens who hadn’t gone over to the dark side, including Sisters Ellen and Isabel, were below in the chapter hall. Friar Dwight kept guard over them, armed. The rest of the maidens, along with Sister Claire, Fuentes, and Friar Rice, had left. Dwight had assumed a position at the exit out of the hall, which was below where he lay up in the gallery. Sister Ellen had positioned herself at one of the tables at the opposite end where she could still see him. He noticed she was careful with her glances so as not to attract Dwight’s interest. But when Nick finally got her attention he motioned that he wanted to take the friar beneath him out.

She shook her head no.

He was puzzled. Why not? Too risky? Somebody might get hurt? That was definitely a concern. But he had to do something.

He heard Dwight call out in French. Unfortunately, he did not understand a word, but the man sounded angry. Below Sister Ellen had raised her hands and replied with some French of her own. She pointed above and spewed out more French.

Was this about him?

He rose to his knees.

Dwight came into view below as he emerged from beneath the gallery and began to angle his head upward, turning his body. Nick vaulted over the top of the rail and angled his descent so that he crashed down right atop the tall friar. There was a chance of an accidental discharge, so he made a point to sweep the hand with the gun downward. His body folded into Dwight’s in a tangle of arms and legs. The friar broke his fall and together they slammed to the floor. He did not allow the man the luxury of any recovery. Instead, he wrapped an arm around the thick neck and clamped tight. He was banking on the fact that, for all his bravado, this bully had never been in a real fight. To make his point clear, he tightened his grip, which caused Dwight to gasp for breath. It wasn’t quite a choke hold, but it was close enough.

The gun had fallen from Dwight’s grasp.

Sister Ellen moved quickly to retrieve it and he released his grip. Dwight pushed away and began gasping for air with ragged breaths. Nick hopped to his feet and went straight to Kelsey.

“You all right?” he asked.

She nodded. “I’m fine.” She looked into his eyes. “I’m glad you’re here.”

So was he.

Dwight was still trying to regain hold of himself. He’d choked the bastard pretty good.

“Looks like you have a full-scale revolution,” he said to the abbess.

“It would appear so. You must be Nicholas Lee.”