The Thirteenth Skull (Alfred Kropp #3)(13)

“I don’t know anything about that,” I said.

She acted like she didn’t hear me. “Four months after the murder, the witness—you—vanished into thin air. As did the former head of security for Samson Industries, a man by the name of Benjamin Bedivere.”

“I’m really tired,” I said. “It’s hard to sleep when you’re tied down, so maybe we could pick this up after I’ve had a nice little nap.”

“A few days later, a supervisor with the border patrol files a report that two fugitives in a stolen Jaguar try to run the Canadian border.”

“That Jag wasn’t stolen,” I said. “Bennacio gave the guy a check for it.”

“The supervisor’s report, like the homicide report, later disappears as if it never existed. Three weeks pass, and the FBI issues an alert, adding this same kid to its Ten Most Wanted list for involvement in a plot to blow up Stonehenge. In another month, he will be removed from that list, with no explanation offered by the FBI.”

“Because I didn’t try to blow up anything.”

“Now, the company called Tintagel International has not vanished, but there is no one—nor has there ever been anyone—named Arthur Myers affiliated with it. The actual CEO of that company is a man named Jourdain Garmot, and he’s quite alive and well. The name itself struck me as a little odd, so I looked it up. Tintagel is the supposed location of Camelot, King Arthur’s castle.”

“Okay,” I said. “What’s the point? What do you want from me?”

She leaned forward. “You remember the SUV in front of the Towers that morning? The driver fled immediately afterward, but one of the guards got the tag number. It was a rental, charged to a corporate account.”

“Let me guess. Tintagel International.”

“Actually, a company whose major stockholder is a subsidiary to a franchisee of Tintagel International.”

“What’s that mean exactly?”

“It means someone is trying very hard to hide their tracks, Alfred.”

“Does it also mean you believe me now and I can go?”

“It means there’s one homicide detective who is very confused and the more she looks into this bizarre case, the more confused she gets. This Mogart you told me about, he’s Arthur Myers, isn’t he?”

“Yes.”

“And this man you were traveling with to Canada, he was ...”

“Bennacio, the Last Knight of the Sacred Order. I guess his alias was Benjamin Bedivere.”

“And he died ...?”

“At Stonehenge. I got the Sword and that’s when OIPEP set up the whole deal with the FBI to try to catch me and get the Sword from me. I guess they also bought off your detective friends, or maybe Mr. Samson ... did.”

“Well,” she said. “Here’s the thing, Alfred. I’m not saying that I believe everything you’ve told me. All I’m saying is there’s some very weird coincidences and connections going on, and it’s driving me crazy. Why would someone connected to Tintagel International stage an elaborate assassination attempt on a fifteen-year-old kid?”

“Because Tintagel International is just a front.”

“A front? A front for what?”

“For the AODs.”

“What’s an AOD?”

“Agent of darkness. That was just my name for them. It wasn’t like their official title or anything. Basically, they were the private army Mogart raised after Mr. Samson kicked him out of the Sacred Order.”

“Mogart was a knight?”

“Sort of a black knight. He left the Order and then decided to steal the Sword.”

“Why did he leave?”

“Because Mr. Samson found out Mogart had a son.”

“Ah,” she said. “Ah.”

“So Mogart raised this private army, some of them I guess still being around wanting a little payback for what I did.”

“What would be the point now, though? You said the Sword was back in heaven.”

“Well,” I said, trying to think it through. “I guess because they’re bad guys.”

She laughed for some reason. “Well, that’s what I hope to find out.”

She stood up.

“It makes sense,” I said. “They almost had it in their hands, the most powerful weapon on earth, and they didn’t get it, all because of me. So they tried to kill me and then torched my father’s house.”

“If that’s true,” she said, “you’ll never be safe, Alfred.” Then she shocked me by kissing my cheek. “But it can’t be true, can it?” she asked.

She left. I lay there for a minute, trying to wrestle to the ground at least one coherent thought. So it wasn’t OIPEP and it wasn’t Mike Arnold, the two likeliest suspects. It was Mogart’s former henchmen. But other than revenge, what was the big deal about killing me? It wouldn’t bring their boss back and it sure wouldn’t bring the Sword back. Then I told myself maybe it was a good thing, my inability to understand evil minds.

Meredith had forgotten—or did she forget?—to strap me back to the bed. I swung my feet to the floor and pushed myself forward, and I nearly crashed into the chair; I guessed I was still pretty dopey. I found my balance and walked toward the window, trying to think it through.