The Omega Factor(96)

Being led at gunpoint by the last man.





Claire had caught a glimpse of Nick and a younger man, dark-haired, in jeans, as they appeared around the final bend in the main road, just as the entourage from the cemetery was making its way toward the abbey. Lee was clearly resourceful and had quickly made his way here. The abbess still stood beside her and they both watched the unfolding drama below as everyone was returning from the cemetery.

“We need to deal with Signore Lee,” the abbess said, reacting to what Claire had just told the older woman.

“What do you want me to do?”

The abbess hesitated a moment, then told her.

“I’m not comfortable with that.”

“Do it anyway.”

Her vows were definitely being tested to the limits.

Reluctantly, she grabbed the bow and reached into a quiver of long varnished arrows with feathered tips. She slid one out and nocked it on the bow. She had to be careful, as a full draw on the fiberglass would be more than enough pressure to bring down a bear. So she drew the string toward her in a three-quarter pull. Anything more and the arrow would go right through. She lined up the peep sight, the feathered fletching just grazing her right cheek, sucked a long breath, and waited until the four Dominicans with guns drew closer. Sunlight sieved through the canopy spotting the ground in a patchwork of light and shadow, which affected her depth perception.

But she was a good shot.

She released the arrow and it snapped through the air with a faint, singing whistle, catching one of the four Dominicans in the thigh.

The man collapsed, howling in agony.

Never had she shot another living thing before.

“The purpose of that?” she asked the abbess.

“To create doubt.”





Vilamur heard the wet thud of something slicing into flesh. An arrow had whined through the tall pines and one of the Dominicans went down with it protruding from his thigh. The man dropped his weapon and reached for the wound, writhing in pain, air squeezing from his lungs as he fought shock and struggled to breathe. Blood ran out of the wound in a long thick ribbon. Everyone stopped walking. Vultures might not kill, but they certainly maimed. He wanted to go and see if the man was all right, but his legs refused to move. Instead, his gaze shot upward to the top of the round tower that jutted up on the motherhouse’s front façade. He saw a maiden with another arrow drawn back, ready to fire.

“I would not do that,” Fuentes shouted.

He whirled around to see the cardinal with a gun nestled close to Sister Deal’s right temple.





Kelsey’s body was enveloped with fear, choking and electric, muscle spasms racing through her, terrified by the weapon to her head. Thankfully, she had the sense of mind to keep quiet and stand still. Two of the other Dominicans had gone to the aid of their fallen brother, which left one to keep Isabel and the other maidens at gunpoint.

“Lower the bow,” Fuentes called out.

The maiden in the tower did not comply.

She heard the hammer on Fuentes’s gun click into place.

A stale, poisonous taste invaded her mouth. Her throat went raw and hot from ragged breaths. Her eyes focused on the woman in the tower with the bow aimed straight at Fuentes.

Sister Claire.

Who lowered her weapon.





Chapter 63



Nick’s body ached like a huge unhealed wound. Every part of his being wanted to spring from his hiding place and protect Kelsey. He could rush the guy with the gun to her head, but the trigger would be pulled long before he traversed the thirty to forty yards that separated them. Either he or she or both of them would get shot.

Not the smart play.

He knew how to handle a tough situation. He’d had his share of them. But he seemed ill informed on how to deal with this. Never had he had someone this close to him in dire jeopardy, everything depending on what he did next. His fear seemed a palpable ugly thing and the weight of indecision settled on his shoulders. Labelle appeared to be deep in a similar quandary. Not moving either. He could not see who’d planted that arrow into the man’s thigh. The guy was in obvious pain but had gained a measure of control over his agony. Two Dominicans were dealing with him.

So he stayed quiet.

And waited.





Claire realized the abbess had gambled on Fuentes using Sister Deal as a shield. It seemed logical. But how would Nick Lee react? That was the unknown. He could go on the offensive, which would expose him and perhaps end all this right now. Or he could do nothing, realizing that they had things under control. The entire atmosphere was tense, theatrical, the scene below echoing a troubling combination of conflict and confidence.

“Make a decision,” she muttered.

“We are coming inside,” Fuentes called out, the gun still aimed.

“And if we refuse?” she called out.

“Must we go there? I came here for a reason, and nothing is going to stand in my way.”

The abbess stood behind her, out of view. She kept her focus out the window. Lee had kept quiet and hidden.

“Let them in,” her superior whispered.

“I’ll open the doors,” she called out.





Vilamur exhaled.

This was rapidly spinning out of all control. But what had he expected? These men were obsessed, and now he was right in the middle of their insanity thanks to his uncontrollable libido.