The Omega Factor(49)

“You deny your child?”

“I. Have. No. Son.”

“You do. A fine young man named for my father.”

“Rene.”

No Madam? Much more personal. Bernat stood beneath the window mesmerized, angry, confused.

“Please,” the priest said. “I am to be the new bishop of Albi. I will be leaving here soon.”

“You can’t go. Your son needs a father in his life. I recognize you cannot be that openly, but you could be that privately.”

“I cannot. Not in any way. That boy means nothing to me.”

“He is in many ways like you. I think you would enjoy getting to know him.”

“Your son is yours to raise, as you see fit. He does not concern me.”

“You are a cruel man.”

“I am a Roman Catholic priest, about to be a bishop. I cannot have any children. It is unthinkable. Don’t you understand that? You cannot be that ignorant.”

His mother started to cry.

The sound broke his heart.

He ran around to the front of the rectory, up the steps, and opened the front door. He rushed inside and found the room with the open window.

“Bernat. My God. What are you doing here?” his mother cried out.

He wrapped his arms around her waist and hugged her hard. Tears dripped down her face. Like at the funeral.

“Did you follow me?” she asked.

He nodded.

Then he faced the priest.

Father Gerard Vilamur.

“Are you my father?”

“No. I am not. Please, never ask me that again. Now you both must leave.”



Thirty-two years had passed since that day, and the memory had never left him. Nor would it ever.

Time to head back down.

The sinner would arrive soon.

This place had been the Cathars’ last stand. Their final act of defiance. Where they’d been forced from reality and into a memory.

He’d come today to do the reverse.

And bring a memory back to life.





Chapter 32



Nick exited the hotel, leaving Zeekers and his uniformed officers there to keep asking questions. Eventually, they would check the security cameras and see a gaggle of nuns escaping through the parking garage. Thankfully, there’d been no cameras in the stairwell and, once clear of the building, those women would dissolve into the street crowd. He assumed they knew all about how to lose themselves. The computer in the stairwell had been found, which confirmed what Kelsey had said about the tracker and its location. Since it had only acted as bait, with nothing incriminating or damaging on the machine, it had been returned to him for delivery back to Kelsey. He found his phone and dialed the number the maiden had provided.

“You are Nicholas Lee, with UNESCO?” the female voice said, as the call was answered.

“That’s me.”

“What is your involvement here?”

“Sister Deal is an old friend.”

“So this is personal?”

“Does that matter?”

“We’re simply trying to gauge the level of official interest.”

“You definitely have the UN’s attention. But, right now, I’m the best friend you’ve got. Remember, I have the images.”

“What do you want?”

“I want to know why you destroyed the Just Judges.”

“Providing that answer is beyond my authority. I have to communicate with my superiors.”

“Do that. I’ll wait for your call. But, sister, don’t take too long.”





Kelsey could tell that Nick was irritated with her.

She knew him well. They’d spent three years together. And though they’d been apart for nearly a decade her instincts relative to him were right on. For some reason he hadn’t wanted her to involve the police. Why not? This was all surely a matter for local law enforcement. The Ghent Altarpiece was regarded as a Belgian national treasure. Anything and everything concerning it captivated the public. Which was precisely why she’d made the call to the inspector, who’d seemed quite grateful for the information.

She stared at Nick’s computer and the blinking blue dot.

Her laptop had left the Novotel Gent Centrum. With Nick? Or someone else? The Maidens of Saint-Michael?

There were hundreds of female religious orders of all sizes and beliefs that serviced countless people, charities, and organizations around the world. Her own was devoted to the poor, along with aiding churches and museums with the restoration of religious art. Quite a contrast in purpose. But it had all made sense. Until today. What was her prioress doing? Putting the needs of the maidens before the needs of her own order?

Every sister owed the prioress a duty of obedience. That was mandated. But respect? That was earned. And, until today, her prioress had possessed her unquestioned respect. But the deceit had ended that. Willful. Blatant. Offensive. Naively, she believed that everyone within a convent would be true and honest. The dedication and determination needed to maintain that rigid lifestyle demanded a certain degree of discipline, which almost eliminated the need for lies. How disappointing to learn that she’d been wrong, and that deceit played just as devilish a role inside the walls as out. And that realization cast a shadow of doubt. One she hadn’t felt since before joining the convent.