Jane’s eggs were runny and her grits lumpy, but David ate them with a smile. “I’ve just been having protein shakes in the morning” she explained. “Well, mostly coffee and toast.”
“This is good,” David soaked up yoke with a piece of multi-grain toast.
She didn’t believe him. They cleaned up together, Jane comforted by the occasional bump against him as they loaded the dishwasher.
The doorbell rang and Jane peeped through the window to find a man in a crisp blue uniform standing at the door. She opened the door expecting an identifying badge of some company logo, but his uniform was blank. She asked for identification. He handed her his driver’s license. “I’m a private courier. Titlebaum, Smyth & Williams sent me.” He checked her ID, then gave her a box.
“Let me grab a pen.” She turned to go into the library, but the courier shook his head.
“No signatures.”
“Oh.” Jane turned back, surprised. “Thank you, then.”
David leaned in the dining room doorway, arms on either side. “I guess they don’t want this traced.” He carried the box into the library. “I should probably swing by home and change,” David said. “I’ve only got two music lessons this afternoon.”
Jane brushed her hands off on the sides of her jeans. “I’ll go through all this. See if I can figure out what had Lois so excited.”
David pointed an index finger at the box. “And what somebody doesn’t want you to find.”
“Thanks for all your help yesterday.” Jane walked him to the door and kissed him on the cheek.
“Should I drop by afterward?”
“Please,” Jane said, “We’re in this together, right?”
“Right.” He seemed relieved. “I’ll be done with my last student at three. You be careful.” He punctuated the last word with a tap on her shoulder.
After he left, Jane went back to the library and cut through the tape holding the box together. On top she found a typed note:
Attached you will find all records related to this case, plus old files. The group mentioned to you took all the attorney’s records, but someone took these home the night before the accident.
The attorney contacted an informant, Jeff Spencer, who worked for the CIA, then later corporate security. Also the attorney was in touch with a Herr Leinbach in Herrnhut, Germany. No idea what this was about. Contact information for both is attached.
Be careful!
Herrnhut. The first Moravian settlement almost a hundred years after the Thirty Years War. The first link.
No names had been used in the note other than the two contacts. There wasn’t even a signature. She supposed it could be traced to a particular printer, although this seemed unlikely given the sheer number in the world. Not like Perry Mason’s day. Jane looked beneath the note and found two files, one on Spencer and a thin one containing Leinbach’s address and phone number. Beneath that was a big stack of various documents all related to Jane.
She laid a few logs in the fireplace, wadded up the note along with some newspaper, and lit it. No sense leaving evidence for someone else to find. Then she grabbed another cup of coffee and started working her way through the files. The cats settled on either side of her. The box contained mostly old deals Lois had helped with, all the real estate contracts from houses Jane had owned, employment contracts, then oil and gas deals that spanned a couple of decades. Nothing about the current investigation except the two names.
Jane took everything out of the box and Marvin promptly jumped in it. She closed the lid and after a few seconds, Marvin burst out. He jumped back in and she obliged by closing the lid again. He leapt out again, ran along the top of the sofa, then dived back into the box. She closed the lid.
Jane went back through each file, carefully turning every page looking for anything written in the margins, a new piece of paper stuck in the middle of an old contract, any internet addresses, bold-face type. Nothing turned up. Except Marvin, sticking his head up wondering why she’d stopped playing.
She went to the desk to turn on the computer, but her finger stopped almost of its own accord over the start button. What if her computer was being monitored? That seemed more likely than the printer being traced. The fire had died down enough for her to leave it.
She let Winston out for a bathroom break, but he charged the trees, dislodging another of Ed’s guards. At least she hoped that’s who he was. The man stood holding up his arms as if Winston were the police.
Jane tried not to laugh. “Winston,” she called, but the dog ignored her. “He’s all right. He won’t bite.”
“If you say so,” the man said, his arms still in the air.
Jane introduced herself.
“Howdy. Ed sent me over to keep an eye out.”
“Would you ask Ed to let me know who’s coming? Otherwise, how can I tell friend from foe?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m going out for a while. Just thought I’d let you know.”
“I’ll keep watch. Someone else is coming at noon.”
Jane tried to haul Winston away from the man, who kept his hands in the air. “Put your hands down and let him get your scent,” Jane said.
The man complied. Winston took a good, long smell, then stuck his head between the man’s legs, sniffing again.
“Winston,” Jane said sharply.
Satisfied, the bulldog went over to an area covered in pine needles and peed, then he pushed dirt over it with his hind legs, all the while eyeing Ed’s new guard. Jane covered her mouth to keep from laughing. Then she bent down, slapping her leg. “All right, come on now.”
Winston ran to her and wagged his whole rear.
“Inside, you.” She pointed to the house and they ran up the back steps together.
Jane grabbed her keys and drove her rental to the library, watching to see if the silver sedan showed up or any car stuck with her. She didn’t spot anything unusual. Inside, Jane accessed the internet, then got into a secure site from her old job—apparently Tami was too green to have found Jane’s backdoor in. From here, she could surf the web without leaving footprints. She searched for evidence of who Spencer had worked for. A few pages deep, Jane began to find traces of him. After he left the CIA, Lois’s contact worked for politicians, a congressman and a governor, until a couple of years ago. Then he started working for World Energy Corp.
She muffled a curse. How had Lois missed this? Jane knew this company. It was headed up by Henry Coche, a billionaire business magnate and international political player. Coche had recently spent millions hiring out-of-work rednecks to ride around on buses protesting legislation intended to help them out. Coche’s people had designed a deviously brilliant plan to turn ordinary Americans against their own best interests. Most people were too badly educated to recognize this and they were trained to mistrust what his news organization called the ‘intellectual elite’, who were trying to explain things. Now he was getting these same people to protest the President’s new energy bill. Coche’s business practices were no better. His company had wrecked a large part of the Arctic and refused to clean up oil spills in Africa and the Gulf of Mexico.
The question was whether Spencer was loyal to Lois or Coche? Or only himself? She closed her eyes and thought back through the transfers she made for Valentin Knight. She was certain at least two had involved World Energy Corp. Had these transfers alerted Coche? Or had it been the thing Lois discovered, but hadn’t had the chance to tell her about?
She looked at the time on the computer screen. She had a few hours before David was finished with work. She would look up websites about Masonic and Templar treasure. Then she realized there was a faster way to get all this information. But it involved a certain amount of deception, plus swallowing her pride. She got back in her rental and pointed it toward Uncle Pat’s house. He was a devotee of all things smacking of conspiracy theories and Freemasons. She hoped he wouldn’t be too angry about the beagles.
✬ ✬ ✬
Misty gave her a sour look. “I had to chase them dogs all over creation last time you was here.”
“I’m sorry.” Jane tried to look contrite. “I guess he pissed me off.”
“Yeah, well,” Misty fought a smile, “he’ll do that.”
“Who’s there?” Uncle Pat’s yell was followed by a spat of coughing.
“I reckon you can come in.” Misty held the door open. “It’s Miss High-Falutin’,” she yelled over her shoulder.
“Who?”
“Your niece, Jane.”
“Well, don’t just stand there jawin’. Close the door afore you let all the flies in.”
“Ain’t no flies in December,” she yelled, then whispered to Jane, “I didn’t tell him about the dogs.”
“Thanks,” Jane said. She took a deep breath, preparing herself, then pasted a contrite look on her face and walked in the door.
His bird-thin chest rose and fell, laboring for each breath. A thin sheet of sweat covered his forehead. His skin had a grayish tint, but his eyes were fever bright. “I see you come crawlin’ back,” he wheezed.
“Uncle Pat,” Jane tried not to show her shock at how his condition had deteriorated since her last visit. “You were right. I’ve come to apologize.”
“Right about what?”
“The Moravians. They’re not real Christians, just like you said.” She winced, feeling guilty lying to a man on his deathbed.
“I knew it. What’d ya find out?” He leaned forward eagerly.
Misty appeared with more of her miraculous sweet tea. Uncle Pat’s hand shook badly as he reached for it. Misty helped him take a sip, then put a straw in his.
“I don’t need no cotton-pickin’ straw,” he objected, but drank from it anyway.
“Thanks,” Jane whispered when she handed her a glass.
Misty shot her a mistrustful look.
Jane had thought through the recent revelations on the way over, searching for one that would set Uncle Pat off the most. “They think the Holy Spirit is a woman.”
“Heathens. Idolaters,” he shouted, then fell into another spat of coughing.
“And some of them are Masons,” she added.
“Devil-worshipers—every last one of them. Did you know that the Statue of Liberty was given to us by the Freemasons of France? The preacher said her real name is Libertas. She’s a demon. Harlot worship right there in New York harbor. Must be why the place is so full of filth and preversion.” He paused to catch his breath.
Jane smiled at his pronunciation, but his string of expletives was often quite literary. Must be the King James Bible that he preferred. They both sipped their tea.
“First thing people see when they come into our country.” He shook his head. “The Whore of Babylon is worshipped all over now. It’s the end times, I tell you.”
“What about the Freemasons? They’re putting together some New World Order? Is that right?”
“Got that devil pyramid and the eye right on the dollar bill, but nobody thinks a thing of it.” The tendons in his neck stood out. “They got that Egypt thing right there in the middle of our nation’s capital.”
“Egypt thing?”
“You know,” he stretched his arm up, indicating something tall. “What’s it called?”
“The Washington Monument?”
“That’s it. The good Lord sent an earthquake to take it down.” He hollered for Misty.
“What you want?” Misty stood in the door, one hand on her hip, insolent. The television played low in the background.
“Bring me that box of tapes I got in the garage.”
“Which box? You got a bunch of ’em.”
Uncle Pat shook his head and waved her away. “You can go see after we talk. Them Masons brung a whole bunch of pagan idols over here. Tried to trick our Christian Founders.”
Jane didn’t mention they were pretty much the same people. “What did they bring?”
“Supposed to have stolen the Arc of the Covenant from Jerusalem. Gold and precious jewels.” Uncle Pat leaned back on his pillows and tried to catch his breath. “You’ll see. I got it all catalogued in there. But we’re in a new apostolic age. Them terrorists brung it on. We’re going to capture the Seven Mountains. Clear these heathens out. Make way for the Rapture.”
Jane didn’t even ask what that meant. “Will you pray for me, Uncle Pat?”
His eyes filled up with tears. Guilt stabbed Jane’s heart. “Girl, I’m glad you’ve come to your senses. Close your eyes.”
Jane took his thin hand and did as he asked.
“Lord, I pray for my niece here who’s just seen her way to you. Bless her and keep her away from these devil worshipping heathens. Chastise her and keep her steps on the straight and narrow. Bring your lash on her if she strays.”
Jane cringed. This man must torture himself in the same way. She prayed that his suffering would be eased. Her first prayer in years.
He ended his prayer and opened his eyes, gasping for breath. “You got to move out of that demon-cursed house.”
“Yes, sir.” At least this was true. The part about moving at least.
“Now, you go on and let me rest. Misty’ll show you where to look. You can ask me questions later.” He leaned against the pillow, whiter than the old pillow case. It took him a longer time to catch his breath. When he did, he yelled for Misty, then fell back against the pillow.
“What?” she asked from the doorway.
Uncle Pat lifted his hand and pointed at Jane, but couldn’t get enough breath to talk.
“He wants you to show me his research.”
“Research?” Misty’s tone went up along with her eyebrows. “All that conspiracy junk he’s got in the garage?”
“That’s right,” Jane said.
“You watch your mouth, Misty” Uncle Pat wheezed. He closed his eyes and whispered, “Thank you, Jesus. I’ve brung my sister’s child to you.”
Jane followed Misty out to the garage.
Once they reached it, Misty turned on her. “What you playin’ at? It’s a sin to fool a dyin’ man, you know.”
“Just show me where he keeps the stuff on the Masons.”
“You can find it yourself.” Misty pointed to a row of file cabinets along the wall.
Jane stepped over and found boxes of video and audio tapes piled beside the file cabinets. Opening drawers at random, she realized to her surprise they were alphabetical by topic. She checked ‘M’ but didn’t find Masons, but found them under ‘F’. The files took up a whole drawer. There were notes on various rituals, a whole file titled ‘The Whore of Babylon’ on goddess worship, an even more fanciful one on the murder of infants, another on plans for world domination. Then she hit the jackpot. ‘Stolen treasure’, the file read. She took it out and then looked at her watch. David would be back soon. She stuck the file in her purse, then tiptoed to the front door.
“You ain’t saying goodbye?” Misty asked.
Jane whirled around. “I thought he’d be asleep.”
“I see you’re helpin’ yourself,” Misty pointed to the manila file sticking out from Jane’s purse. “Him not even dead yet.”
“I’m just borrowing it. I’ll bring it back.” Jane turned bright red, remembering her borrowing of the Blake paintings might have led to this whole mess.
“Right.” Misty snorted. “Just leave them dogs in their cages this time.”
“They need to be walked, you know.”
“You do it, then. You a new Christian and all.” Misty turned on her heel and went back to her soap operas.
✬ ✬ ✬
Jane got back to Miss Essig’s house and let Winston out to supervise the new security man who met his approval by scratching behind his ears. She went to the library in the back of the house and took Uncle Pat’s file out of her purse. It contained some articles and a lot of transcriptions of shows from various radio ministers and some guy named Arthur Beale. She read through everything quickly. The file confirmed the list David had given her the night before, but added a whole lot more. These people Uncle Pat followed didn’t distinguish between the Freemasons, the Templars or the Rosicrucians. They even threw in a few other groups Jane was less familiar with. According to the commentary, they were all devil worshippers set on world domination, secretly doing blood sacrifices to maintain control of all the governments in the world. Jane shook her head. As usual with such material, it was a mixture of ignorance, paranoia and the occasional gem of information.
The list of treasure started with gold and gemstones which seemed to come from Jerusalem via the Templars. They’d escaped King Philip the Fair, the French king who arrested and tortured Jacques de Molay among other knights, the note read.
Holy shit! Philip LeBelle. Jane slapped her palm against her forehead, remembering the visit from Philip and Margaret. Could he be more obvious? I wonder what his real name is.
According to this, de Molay had sacrificed himself so others could escape with the treasure. Where they took it was at question. The options mentioned were Scotland, an old Templar fort in the Mediterranean, Oak Island near Nova Scotia, Massachusetts, Rhode Island, and Washington, D.C. Nothing about North Carolina. But the articles all agreed that besides the Arc of the Covenant and the Grail, other treasure included gold, jewels and statuary from Egypt and Babylon. One contained a whole list of relics stolen from cathedrals in Europe—the hand of Saint Sebastian, the skull and finger bones of various saints, part of the true cross, the crown of thorns, the real shroud, and Longinus’s spear, more popularly called the Spear of Destiny.
According to this list, the spear had come from a cathedral in Europe. No note on which one. Also listed was a jeweled skull worshipped by the Templars, the sword of King Arthur and the golden girdle of Saint Veronica. Jane had never heard of that saint, not that she was all that familiar with Catholic lore. It looked like Masonic treasure could include pretty much anything and it all sounded like urban legend to her. Herrnhut was the only solid lead. And Spencer, who was connected to Henry Coche.
Someone knocked on the door, a heavy, masculine hand, and Jane’s heart lifted at the sound. She ran to the door, Winston right behind her, and opened it.
Dreher stood on the porch, hands on his hips. “I came by to check on your plans.”
A thousand things to say came crowding up in Jane’s throat, but none of them would help, so she swallowed them all down. “When do you need to know?”
“I gave you two days. One has passed.”
“I’ll be gone soon,” she spit out and slammed the door in his face.
Hot tears filled her eyes. Damn the man. She walked through the living room, sat at the piano and played at random. This place was her true home, her heart’s dwelling place. It had come from her family. How dare he exile her? The tears fell and she played, letting the music say what she couldn’t. Soon the tears stopped, but she kept playing, remembering her many lessons with Miss Essig, her overnights with friends, climbing the tall pines and swinging with the wind.
Her fingers found music that raised her out of her memories, music that spoke of something fresh, of a promise. Jane closed her eyes and listened, letting her fingers take their own course. It was the piece she’d been dreaming. She let herself play and another phrase emerged, this one opening up a ground of sound, strong enough to support something big to come. Then she ran out of notes.
You can’t take away my music, Jane thought.
The doorbell rang again.
Bastard, Jane thought. Come back for more. Now I’ll really give you a piece of my mind.
She ran to the door and opened it. “What the hell do you . . .”
David stood there holding an overnight bag. He looked down at it, a flush spreading up his neck to his cheeks. “I didn’t know if you’d want to stay in this big house all alone,” he started to explain.
“I’m sorry. I thought you were—” She shook her head against fresh tears.
After a surprised grunt, he dropped the bag and pulled her close, nestling his nose into the hair behind her ear. “Damn, you smell good.”
Jane pulled away, the storm of emotion gone as quickly as it had come. She brought David inside, locking the door behind them. “That asshole Dreher came by wanting to know when I’d be out.”
“What’d you tell him?”
“I slammed the door in his face.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I have an idea.” Jane led him into the library, wiping her eyes with her sleeve. Files and papers littered the floor.
“Looks like you’ve been busy.”
“I have, but I haven’t learned all that much.” She told him about Lois’s two contacts, about Jeff Spencer’s employers, and what she’d picked up from Uncle Pat.
“He sounds like a character.”
“Listen, here’s what I think we should do. I have to leave. Let’s go see this Herr Leinbach. Find out what he told Lois.”
“Go see? Isn’t an overseas call cheaper than two plane tickets? Hell, we could Skype him for free.”
“Yeah, and who else would be listening?” Jane pointed out. “Come with me. Let’s go to London. Check out Fetter Lane.”
“Actually, I talked to James. He said the place was bombed into oblivion during World War II. It’s all been rebuilt. Says there’s nothing left to see.”
“Oh,” Jane paused. “Then Herrnhut and Prague. We’ll investigate these stories first hand.”
“I don’t have enough money to go gallivanting around Europe looking for clues that lead to Masonic treasure.”
“I do,” Jane said. At his frown, she added, “have enough money.”
“I can’t let you—”
“I need somebody to travel with me.”
He looked down at her. “You don’t strike me as needing anybody.”
She smiled. “That’s sweet, but I do. You know about the Masons. You’re the perfect research assistant.”
His eyes clouded.
“Among other things,” she added.
“I have music students.”
“Can’t you find someone to take them for a few weeks?”
He tilted his head, considering. “But these people are dangerous.”
“They’ll be dangerous here or there.”
David opened his mouth, then closed it. “Where do you get that kind of courage? I would never imagine doing that.”
Jane shrugged. “I don’t know. Dealing with rich assholes for twenty years?” She plopped down on the couch. “Come on. Don’t tell me you haven’t wanted to see Herrnhut all your life. Go to Prague?”
David stood in the middle of the paper-strewn floor studying her. “You’re going to go whether I come or not, aren’t you?”
She nodded. “But it would be so much more fun with you. Besides, my German is terrible.”
Something shifted in David’s eyes, then he smiled. “Mine is pretty good.”
“See?”
He ran his hand through his hair. “We’ve got a lot of work to do, then.”
✬ ✬ ✬
“We want to see if anyone follows you,” Valentin Knight explained. “We think the real action is on this side of the Atlantic, but just in case our team will keep you under surveillance. If this guy is as good as I think, he’ll spot us if we stay too close.”
Jane paused to gather his full attention. “What are the chances I’ll end up like Lois?”
Knight’s shoulders fell. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am. I never thought things would develop so quickly.”
Knight had asked Jane to stop by D.C. before flying on to Lois’s funeral. She’d left David to tie up loose ends. They would meet at JFK right after the service. She hadn’t wanted David to be noticed there. Irrational, since he’d become a blip on their radar as soon as she’d bought their plane tickets.
The same chauffer who’d taken her to Knight’s office picked her up at Reagan National Airport, but this time the drive took close to an hour. He left the city behind and headed to Knight’s country home in Fairfax County. Blond stubbled fields were filled with horses and the occasional herd of dairy cows. Tall trees lined the road in places, and Jane relaxed. Finally, the car pulled through iron gates and meandered past several acres of pasture with blanketed thoroughbreds.
A stone mansion complete with turrets, gables and mullioned windows stood at the crest of the hill. The driver stopped in front of massive double doors. One of the doors opened and a man in the quintessential suit, vest and tie of an English butler strode out and opened her door. He’d showed her through the foyer, up a large staircase to Knight’s capacious personal library where she now sat with her host.
A fire burned in the stone fireplace. Two leather chairs and attendant hassocks sat at angles to it. Knight occupied one, she the other. Floor to ceiling white-edged bookcases filled three of the walls. Across the room, the fourth was floor to ceiling windows overlooking flower beds tucked in for the winter and the edge of woods.
“I thought I was the one who had gotten her killed.” Jane’s eyes filled with hot tears.
“We thought there might be some reaction to moving all that money,” Knight said. “My security team was watching you, but we thought Lois would be safe and only sent one person to protect her.”
Jane gritted her teeth to keep herself from cursing.
“His body washed up in the Hudson this morning.”
A pine log in the fire popped and Jane jumped. She waited until she could trust her voice. “So what is this all about?”
Knight shifted in his chair.
“I expect the truth this time.”
Knight watched her, his eyes sad. He rubbed his temples, then straightened. “The balance of power in our world is changing. Members of the elite who share an altruistic view are making moves to loosen the stranglehold certain negative powers have on the economy and governments.”
“The oil and gas conglomerate?” Jane asked.
“Among others.”
“Good luck with that,” she said.
Knight’s mouth tightened. “Indeed, Ms. Frey, cynicism has been the tone of the last decade, but we can no longer sit back and tell ourselves their control is unshakeable. Global conditions are dire. We’ve passed the seven billion mark in population, and most people live without clean water or sufficient food, not to mention lacking even a modicum of education. Climate change is upon us already. All this is well known. But I wanted to let you know about one other indicator. The prophecy.”
“What prophecy? You don’t strike me as someone who believes in such nonsense.”
Knight eyed her for a minute, then seemed to come to a decision. “I’ve been a member of a spiritual lodge for a number of years.”
Jane remembered what David had said about this man, his awe when she’d mentioned her walk with him.
He continued, “Our training helps us distinguish true psychic vision from chicanery. A young man has surfaced who seems to be a pure seer.”
“What does he predict?” She’d see where this led.
“That those who serve the light will regain power. A new era of peace and an uplifting of consciousness.”
Jane snorted, then blushed at Knight’s chilly expression. “I’m sorry, but I’m shocked that you would go in for this sort of thing. It’s just like that guy who predicted Armageddon on—what was the date? He was wrong, of course, and all those people sold their property, spent their life savings.”
“This is quite different.”
“You got Lois killed over some crackpot prediction.”
Knight regarded her for a minute. “I hope you’ll excuse me for saying that you are hardly qualified to make such a judgment.”
“And you are?”
“Yes, Ms. Frey, I am.”
His use of her surname, the certainty in his voice, stopped her.
“Pardon me for stating my credentials. It’s not seemly, but under the circumstances . . .” He spread his hands.
“Please enlighten me,” Jane said.
He cocked his head at her as if surprised, the ghost of a smile on his lips, then said, “I am the head of the oldest spiritual organization in the Americas, begun by several of the founding fathers. Some of your church’s members as well.” He sat forward in his chair, clearly animated by the subject. “They sought to create a safe haven for the true spiritual teachings the Church of Peter had tried to wipe out over the centuries. Teachings that can be traced back into antiquity.”
“So you’re a Mason,” Jane said.
Knight made a dismissive noise. “Our group lies beneath all the visible lodges. Always has.”
He eyed her before continuing. “Not only do I carry this spiritual responsibility, I own a global, multi-billion dollar enterprise that wields a great deal of power. I am an advisor to heads of state, religious leaders and wealthy families who tend to exert more power than is commonly known.” He blushed at this recitation.
“I guess I didn’t realize you also held spiritual authority,” Jane said in a softer voice. She’d known the rest.
Knight continued. “The prophecy speaks of a lost treasure. We need to recover it.”
Jane frowned. “But I’m not an archeologist—”
Knight raised a finger to forestall her. “At first we thought it might be the Blake painting you discovered in the Kabinet Room beneath your home.”
“You know about that?”
“Of course. Now we realize the prophecy refers to something else. Something much older and more powerful.”
“Powerful?”
“Ancient cultures knew ways to imbue spiritual energy into material objects. Egyptian lore, for example, speaks of the Opening of the Mouth ritual which tied the statues to the God or Goddess it represented.”
Jane sat back, shaking her head. “But that’s just—”
“Myth?” he finished for her. “Perhaps, but this idea is found around the world. Many strange stories exist about ancient artifacts that defy the material explanations of science.”
Jane started to object, but he pressed on. “Nevertheless, it is not necessary for you to become a believer in any of this lore.”
“Then how can I help you? I would like to see power come into the hands of more wise leaders.”
His smile was genuinely warm. “Excellent. There is an old story that someone in your church, most particularly in your family, brought an artifact with them to the colonies which people in medieval days thought to have great power.”
Now Jane did roll her eyes. “They believed in all kinds of silliness back then. If a monastery or cathedral needed funds, they discovered a relic. The pilgrims came for blessings. And spent money.” She said this last with emphasis. “Besides, Moravians didn’t approve of relics. They thought they became substitutes for a direct relationship with God.”
“But someone thinks they have one,” he said. “More importantly, this someone believes in it.”
“So, let them. What’s the harm in—” She stopped, thinking of Lois, remembering the thermos of tea laced with barbiturates.
“We are not asking you to authenticate these claims of spiritual power,” Knight said. “We’re asking you to use your trip to explore stories of any artifacts that might have been transported or stored by your family or those in association with them.”
“But you know I’ve been kicked out of the house. I don’t have much access to my family right now. Or the OGMS.” This was not strictly true. Frank had offered her a room.
Knight raised an eyebrow. “You see? You’ve discovered some things already.”
“True.” Jane took a bit of satisfaction at that. “If you know about the OGMS, why don’t you ask them?”
“They do not know what the thieves might be looking for besides the Blake painting. But we have other means to search those premises.”
Jane regarded him for a minute.
“You may stay in my corporate suite in Prague. I’ll put a security team on you.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“At a sufficient level of alert. If you need funds—”
She smiled at this. “You’ve already taken care of me in that regard. I suppose I can’t complain that giving me thirteen million also made me a target.”
“You were already a target,” he said, not elaborating.
Jane wondered how that had happened.
“Take your trip. Search out these connections. Let me know if I can provide resources or access.” He stopped and held her eyes. “I’d appreciate it if you kept me informed of your discoveries.”