The Omega Factor(78)

He rose from the bed and slipped on the bathrobe draped at its end. He liked to shower, shave, and dress before the staff arrived, preferring not to have an audience to his daily ritual. He stepped across the bedroom, night-lights illuminating the way, and opened the door. Fuentes stood in the dimly lit hall, fully dressed in street clothes.

“You’re needed downstairs,” the cardinal said to him.

“Let me dress.”

“No. The robe is fine.”

Okay.

He followed Fuentes to the staircase and down to the ground floor. Waiting in the foyer were two men. One was tall, with dark hair, violet eyes, and a lean muscular build. The other was short and stout with a light dusting of brown fuzz atop a round head. Both were dressed in trousers, shirts, and shoes, with light jackets. Each sported a chain around his neck from which an ornament hung.

The Gyronny Cross.

The heraldic arms of the Ordo Praedicatorum, the Order of Preachers.

Dominicans.

“This is Friar Robert Dwight,” Fuentes said, introducing the tall man. “And Friar Paul Rice.” Shorter, with gray eyes.

No hands were offered to shake, which was fine by him.

Fuentes motioned and they all walked back to the study. The cardinal switched on one of the lamps. “Archbishop Vilamur, the situation has changed.”

Obviously, something was up.

He listened as Friar Dwight explained about what had happened in Ghent, Belgium. A lost work of art had been found, then burned. The Just Judges. Part of the famed Ghent Altarpiece. Stolen in the 1930s, but recently rediscovered during a restoration. The Maidens of Saint-Michael had burned it. They were, in actuality, les Vautours.

Really?

He was familiar with the maidens. Headquartered to the south, in the mountains, near the Spanish border. He’d visited their motherhouse several times. Knew the current abbess. Nothing exceptional about her or them. One of many convents located within his archdiocese, each a quiet, innocent place.

“You’re saying that the Maidens of Saint-Michael actively attacked and burned a panel of the Ghent Altarpiece. And that these nuns are the Vultures?”

Fuentes nodded. “That is exactly what he’s saying. Regrettably, one of their own was killed in the process, but that has allowed us to finally locate them. And, most fortuitous, here they are, right in your archdiocese.”

He did not know what to say.

“They also have acquired some assistance from the United Nations,” Dwight said. “A man named Nicholas Lee, who is actively involved with them.”

“Let me see what I can do to end his involvement,” Fuentes said. “We have a presence at the UN.”

He wondered why he’d been woken and included in this conversation. Fuentes could have easily done this without him. But he recalled what the cardinal had said earlier about what would happen once the Vultures were identified.

“Do you still plan to silence them?” he asked.

“I do,” Fuentes said. “And immediately. I’ll supervise the incursion.”

Incursion? “Are you planning a war?”

Fuentes’s eyes zeroed in. “I’m planning on dealing with a group that has shown nothing but disrespect to Rome for centuries. I’m planning on teaching them a lesson, one they will never forget.”

He could see that the Spaniard was serious. Still, he wondered, “Why am I involved?”

“Because,” Fuentes said, “you could prove helpful in dealing with the maidens. They are subject to your temporal authority. Also, we must deal with Bernat de Foix. It seems that your blackmailer was also involved with the Just Judges.” The cardinal pointed to Dwight. “Explain it to him.”

“De Foix funded the restoration of the Just Judges reproduction. To his good fortune, the restorer discovered the hidden original beneath that overpaint. We have to wonder if that was coincidental or intentional.”

He was wondering the same thing.

“Also,” Dwight said, “the restorer created electronic images of the original panel.”

“Which are now irrelevant,” Fuentes added. “Prior to yesterday they were invaluable. But now we know where to find les Vautours so it doesn’t matter if they are revealed and studied by others. But de Foix? He’s a separate issue altogether. On several levels. One we must deal with tonight.”

“What do you mean deal with?” he asked.

“We’ve gathered as much information as we could, in the short time we had to prepare,” Friar Rice said. “But we know a lot more about de Foix than we did a few hours ago. Him being involved with the discovery made in Ghent, funding the restoration, could be significant. It might be connected to what is happening here with you, Archbishop.”

“And he might know nothing at all,” Vilamur said, a touch of irritation in his voice. “He might just hate my guts.”

Fuentes shrugged. “Quite true. It’s hard to know for sure. But he did specifically mention les Vautours to you, which is a rather obscure subject, so it’s not that far-fetched to think he could know more. He is definitely schooled in your personal problem with him.”

“Our problem, Eminence,” he said.

Fuentes nodded. “Quite right. Our problem.”

“And they are also here to deal with that?” he asked, pointing at the two friars.