The Omega Factor(54)

Nick ranked what he was about to do at the top of his you-gotta-be-kidding list. He’d first deceived, then made a deal with a group of nuns who were doing who-knew-what. The one indisputable fact was that the Just Judges had been burned to a cinder by the same nuns he’d successfully worked into a corner. It had taken them nearly an hour to call back and arrange for a meeting. But call they did, choosing home ground at the convent. Which was fine by him, since he held all of the cards.

A cab dropped him outside the iron gates.

The day had turned warm, the late-afternoon sun beginning its final act toward the west. He’d made a lot of progress in one day. Far more than the police. Hopefully Inspector Zeekers would keep chasing shadows and stay out of the way. He’d stopped by his hotel and deposited Kelsey’s laptop in his room. He hadn’t called her back, preferring to let that stew a little while longer until he could figure out how best to handle her. She should be fine in her apartment. Time now to see just what in the world was going on.

He stepped through the gate, walked toward the convent’s front entrance, and knocked on the heavy oak slab. The door was answered not by one of the nuns, but by a tall man with piercing violet eyes and strong, lean features. The older woman from last night, the one who’d said she was in charge, stood off to the side beside another man. This one shorter, more rotund, with florid jowls hanging to each side of thick lips. The two men were dressed in differing trousers, shirt, and shoes, with jackets, but each sported a chain around his neck from which a cross hung.





Which had to be significant.

“You must be Nicholas Lee,” the tall man who answered the door said.

He caught the concerned look on the older nun’s face.

“And you are?” he asked.

“Friar Robert Dwight.”

He pointed at the other guy. “And him?”

“My associate, Friar Paul Rice.”

His gaze shot to the nun, asking with his eyes if she was all right. The older woman nodded. Not a hint of fear filled her eyes. Instead, she seemed on alert, watching, listening.

“I understand that you’ve come to speak with the maidens,” Dwight said. “Instead, you will now speak to me.”

“And what will we be talking about?”

“The electronic images of the Just Judges that, I’m told, you possess.”

“And what’s your interest?”

“If you please, I’ll be the one asking the questions.”

He wasn’t sure about the arrogance but decided to let it pass. For the moment. He needed to find out what was going on, as these men’s appearance had clearly been unexpected.

“Where is the laptop computer these women say you stole back from them last night?”

Now he understood. The good maidens were playing a shell game of pass the laptop. Smart. Which raised a question.

“Where are the others?” he asked the mother superior.

“They are not your concern,” Dwight said.

“If you want those images, they’re my concern. That’s non-negotiable. And, by the way”—he pointed at the cross around the guy’s neck—“what are you?”

“Domini canes,” the older woman spit out, contempt in her voice.

“Forgive her,” Dwight said. “She uses an old Latin pun, a nickname we were sometimes referred to. The master’s dogs. The Hounds of the Lord. Which by the way, we take as a badge of honor.”

“And who is we?”

“I am of the Dominicans,” Dwight said. “The insult the mother superior hurled, her reference to hounds, draws on the story that Saint Dominic’s mother, while pregnant with him, had a vision of a black-and-white dog with a torch in its mouth. Supposedly, wherever the dog went, it set fire to the earth. That vision was fulfilled when Dominic, and his followers, went forth, clad in black and white, setting fire to the earth with the Gospel. A hound is loyal, and we Dominicans have a reputation as obedient servants of the faith.”

“And the cross around your neck?”

“Our symbol. Revealed here,” Dwight said, “so the maidens understand that we are not a fraud.”

He’d already underestimated one religious group, and he wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. So he calmly asked, “Where are the other maidens?”

Dwight motioned toward the corridor leading out of the foyer.

He headed in that direction, assuming that the others were in the hall he’d spotted during his first visit. Some sort of dining room and gathering spot. He entered and saw more of the older women, two he recognized from the hotel along with the two younger ones. All of them wore the same gray smocks and veils. Another man, with a cross around his neck too, watched over them.

“Satisfied?” Dwight asked him. “What did you think? They were in some sort of danger? I am a friar of the church, not a thug.”

“That’s open to debate,” one of the younger maidens said, the one with the bruised face.

Dwight pointed a finger her way. “You should watch your words.”

Actually, Nick thought, you should watch yours. That woman can hurt you.

“What are you doing here?” he asked Dwight.

“I’ve been sent to conduct an investigation.”

Now he was intrigued. “By who?”