HOLY BLOOD

Dawn came over the waters of Lago Maggiore. They were on the Stresa freight barge. Petride wondered what would greet them in Milan, although he realized that it did not matter.

Nothing mattered now. The journey was coming to an end.

The holy thing was in its resting place. Not to be unearthed for years; perhaps to be buried for a millennium. There was no way to tell.

They sped southeast on the main track through Varese into Castiglione. The countryside rushed by, and the skyline of Milan came into view.

“We’re here!” shouted Annaxas. “A day’s rest, then home! I must say you people are remarkable!”

“Yes,” said Petride simply. “We’re remarkable.”

The priest of Xenope removed the large Italian pistol from under his shirt. He took two steps forward, toward his beloved brother, and raised the barrel of the weapon. It was inches from the base of Annaxas’s skull.

He pulled the trigger.

THE GEMINI CONTENDERS

“TREMENDOUS SUSPENSE.”

San Francisco Sunday Examiner & Chronicle

“A MASTERLY JOB … COMPLEX, THOUGHT PROVOKING, AND INTRICATELY PLOTTED.”

San Diego Union