The Omega Factor(47)

He could see that admission drew their interest.

“I have them safely tucked away. So that cow is gone from the barn, if you get my drift.”

He could see they did.

“We need to leave,” one of the younger nuns said. “The police are here.”

“I know. But that wasn’t my doing. I’m here to help with that.”

“We should trust him,” one of the older women said. “We really have little choice.”

The younger nun, the one with the bruise, nodded.

He pointed. “Sorry about that smack to the face.”

“I’m not sorry for the kick to your gut.”

He smiled. “No, I imagine you’re not. Let me deal with the police. I’ll buy you time to get out.”

They still did not move.

“Or you can stay and take your chances with them,” he added.

“All right,” the one with the bruised face said.

“Head down to the underground parking garage,” he said. “I saw a sign on the ground floor that pointed an arrow downward. I’ll deal with Inspector Zeekers. He’s with the General Directorate of Judicial Police. You people have attracted the big boys.”

“Along with the United Nations?” the older women asked.

“It would seem so.”

Apparently, he’d been checked out too.

He stepped aside and motioned for them to go.

They passed without a word.

“Oh, by the way.”

They stopped and turned around.

“Here’s my cell phone number.”

And he rattled it off. One of the younger nuns produced a phone and entered the digits. His phone buzzed in his pocket.

“That’s mine,” she said.

He nodded. “Call me when you’re ready to talk. I might be able to help contain those images.”

They started to leave.

“Ladies,” he said. “One more thing. That laptop is being tracked. It’s how I found you. Leave it there. Let the police find it.”

The younger nun nodded and the other woman laid it on one of the steps.

And they left.

He headed up to the third floor and exited the stairwell just as the elevator dinged and the car door opened. Zeekers and two of the uniforms marched off. He hoped the other two were stationed in the lobby and not watching the stairs or garage.

“Monsieur Lee,” Zeekers said. “Sister Deal alerted us to your presence. The nuns are on this floor. Which you seem to already know.”

“I followed them here but wasn’t able to see which room they entered. I was trying to not be detected, until you arrived.”

He was acting like he was in on the call to the police.

Zeekers nodded. “Sister Deal explained about the laptop and what you did. Let’s see what these nuns have to say today.”

The inspector led the way to a door marked “307” and used a key card to gain access. Inside was a spacious room with laminated furniture, a queen-sized bed, and a large bathroom. Views of Saint Bavos could be seen through the windows. But no people. No clothes or possessions.

“I don’t understand,” Zeekers said. “The hotel says this is their room. They checked in late last night.” Zeekers motioned and one of the uniforms found a radio and asked what was happening at their location. “All clear,” was the response. Nick caught the annoyance on the inspector’s face.

Zeekers found his cell phone and tapped the screen. “Sister Deal, are you still tracking the computer?” He listened a moment, then ended the call. “She says it’s still at this location.”

“It’s a big hotel,” he pointed out.

Thankfully, the inspector wasn’t pressing him on what happened, thinking him an ally. After all, he and Kelsey had led him here.

“Seal this floor,” Zeekers said to the uniforms, “then search all the rooms.”

The two men nodded and hurried off.

“This is all quite strange,” Zeekers said to him.

“I agree,” Nick answered.

In more ways than one.





Chapter 31



Bernat completed the arduous climb to the mount at Montségur. He’d come early to make the trek. A pilgrimage of sorts. One he’d made many times before.

The loose soil and pebbles along the way presented their usual challenge. The steep rocky path wound up the cliff face through stands of cypress and pine, fragrant in the spring air. The wind had steadily increased, blowing with more gusto the higher he went. Stops had been created at points along the way and he’d lingered at one that offered a panoramic view of the forests below. He’d studied the car park and spotted Andre, discreetly placed to keep a watchful eye out for their visitor, who was expected to arrive in an hour or so.

The castle ruin loomed above him, ferocious and unwelcoming. Almost threatening. As if warning him not to come closer. The mountain’s sheer power and height had surely once proved the citadel’s best defense. Bringing a fully equipped army up here for an attack would have been nearly impossible. No wonder a siege mentality had prevailed.

The fortress itself was simple in design. A single postern, a massive keep, walls reinforced by limestone rock surrounding a long central courtyard. Once it had been home to several hundred. Now it seemed icy cold, nearly corpselike. Tour guides loved to link the fortress with the Cathars. And there was a connection, just not with this ruin. It was not the original stronghold. Instead, it was a seventeenth-century French border post destroyed during a war. The original castle had been razed in 1244, just after the Cathars surrendered the site.