The Omega Factor(42)
“We investigated the maidens,” Dati said, “along with other convents in southern France, a long time ago. Nothing unusual was uncovered.”
“Hiding in plain sight is always best. And they have not survived for so long by being stupid.”
Two paths were available. They could go straight to the maidens’ motherhouse in southern France. Or they could start with the retirement home in Ghent. He weighed the pros and cons, then said, “We will focus on the convent in Ghent and see if we can rattle some of those old nuns.”
Dati nodded.
He pointed to the tomb of John Paul I. “He served a mere thirty-three days. A lifetime of preparation and dedication for a little over a month as pope. What a waste.” He paused. “I want more.”
“And I want you to have it. We Dominicans are ready to serve as a communion of brothers.”
He liked that. No question where the friars stood.
“The time has come to stop dreaming, stop planning, and make it real,” he said to Dati. “I need the confidence of the cardinals, and providence has dealt us a golden opportunity to gain it. I am not going to squander that.”
“Neither will I.”
That’s what he liked about this man.
Definitive. Decisive. Determined.
The perfect ally.
“I will personally handle the situation in Toulouse,” Fuentes said. “I want you to deal with those maidens in Ghent. We have to know for sure.”
Dati bowed, ever so slightly, agreeing.
He acknowledged the show of respect with a nod. “Here’s what I want you to do.”
Chapter 27
Nick had developed a whole host of instincts. He’d started honing them with the FBI, but the past few years on an international stage had allowed him to really perfect them. He hadn’t been sure the prioress was a problem, but he’d been curious enough to find out. The older woman probably thought that no one would consider her appearance here in Ghent suspicious. One of her sisters had been attacked. It would be only natural for her to be concerned. She also existed in a cloistered world where her word was the law and no one questioned her actions or motives. He lived in a world where every single thing came under sharp scrutiny.
“She sold me out,” Kelsey said again.
He was tailing the prioress, who’d left the basilica with the laptop. He was in communication with Kelsey through his phone, her voice audible thanks to earbuds, and Kelsey safe back in her apartment. He was out on the streets of Ghent, the prioress thirty yards ahead and in no hurry. For the past fifteen minutes they’d meandered about. He could almost read the older woman’s thoughts. Who’d be following me?
“She’s a good woman,” Kelsey said in his ear. “The other sisters, and I, have great respect for her. That’s why this is so hard.”
“You have to assume that she’s doing what she believes is the right thing,” he whispered back.
“That’s what I keep telling myself. But she still sold me out and allowed a great masterpiece to be destroyed.”
He knew that lying was tough for Kelsey. On their first date she’d made it clear that she preferred straight talk. If he didn’t want to see her again, just say so. No need to make excuses or hedge. The truth would be just fine. He loved that about her and, when the time came to end things, she’d practiced what she’d preached and not minced words. Of course, earlier, she’d lied to her prioress about copies of the images but, as he’d explained to her, sometimes in his line of work, to get to the truth, it had to be done.
He passed through a cobbled square where a statue of Apollo stood watch. Water flowed from a fountain. Outdoor cafés were doing a respectable early-afternoon business. Lots of hustle and bustle all around with people moving in every direction. The prioress kept going, exiting onto a side street labeled Biezekapelstraat.
He followed.
Music leaked out overhead from open windows. They turned again onto another street and passed by Ghent police headquarters. He’d momentarily thought she might be headed there and that they’d misjudged her.
But she kept walking.
Saint James Church stood ahead adjacent to another large square. The river Leie flowed beyond, beneath a low-slung bridge. He saw the Gravensteen looming on the far bank. They were headed in the general direction of both the old castle and the convent, the way he’d taken last night on the river.
The prioress never made it to the bridge.
She stopped in the square and entered a fruit market that had been set up for the day. He lingered back and used the crowd for protection. Birds flitted across the cobbles in quest of tidbits. The prioress loitered within the market, finally stopping at a booth selling fresh flowers.
“She’s waiting for somebody,” he whispered.
“I asked to be sent overseas,” Kelsey said in his ear.
“Where’d that come from?”
“When I completed my novice training, I was asked where I’d like to serve. I chose France. I could have stayed in the United States, we have a convent there, but I wanted to go far away.”
They’d never had a conversation about what happened afterward. It all happened so fast. She told him. The wedding was canceled. She entered the convent. Gone.
“I thought not dragging things out best,” she said. “Not being around, or nearby. My course was clear, and I knew I’d hurt you. I would have given anything not to hurt you, Nick. I had to follow my conscience, over my heart. You said you understood, but you really didn’t, did you?”