20

THE ROUSSEAU BUILDING TOWERED over them, casting an imposing midday shadow over La Défense district. Jack stood on the sidewalk, staring up at its glass façade, wondering where what he planned to do ranked on the list of the dumbest things he’d ever done. What kept him from turning around and walking away, though, was the woman next to him. She knew what he proposed to do and she hadn’t tried to talk him out of it. It told him he hadn’t entirely lost his mind. He turned to Espy.

“Any way I can convince you to walk up the street, find someplace to get an espresso, and wait for me? If we’re right about who this man is, then when I walk out of that building, I won’t be alone. It would be helpful to have someone in place who can spot the tail.”

Espy frowned, unable to argue the logic of the request, even as she knew his explanation didn’t touch on the real reason Jack didn’t want her with him. “And if you don’t walk out of there?”

“Then you get ahold of Duckey and let him know what happened. The two of you will have to come up with a plan B for getting the boys back.”

Espy went silent, and Jack could see fear behind her calm. Everything they’d done so far had been with the singular goal of getting Alex and Jim back. The retrieval of the bones, the escapes, the refusal to engage McKeller. And all their actions came down to this one choice, a walk into the lion’s den. If it went badly, Jack knew that the small bit of control he and Espy had wrested from the situation would evaporate. He knew all this and still he had to walk through the door of the magnificent building in front of him.

He saw the weight of it settle on her, and the only gift he could give her was to avoid acknowledging it.

“When you get your coffee, get one for me too, okay?”

Then he turned and stepped through the revolving door and into the lobby, finding perhaps the cleanest, brightest, most welcoming lion’s den he’d ever seen. A recurring theme permeated the corporate press releases of Rousseau-Beckett Industries: that of environmental consciousness. They were key players in the area of renewable resources. Most of their buildings operated near a zero-energy deficit. As he walked toward the elevators, taking in the great lighting and modern lines, Jack couldn’t help but feel genuine appreciation for the vision behind it.

But he didn’t have to feel the same way about the man. After spending the better part of a day gathering information about Alain Rousseau, Jack was convinced the man was somewhere near the top of the food chain. Like Gordon Reese, George Manheim, and Quinn Chambers, Rousseau was a captain of industry, a buyer and seller of people, a man of near unlimited power. But none of the others had a picture of their family in a six-hundred-year-old book—except for Chambers, and Jack doubted the family would care to trumpet their status within that etching.

One of the things Jack had found as he studied Rousseau was how often the paths of those two families crossed, almost always to the detriment of the Chambers clan. In fact, in taking a new look at the financial tragedy that befell the family in the 1850s, Jack could see a Rousseau hand in much of it. Even after the most recent tragedy in the Chambers family, the death of their head of household, Alain Rousseau had swooped in and bought out a number of the family’s business concerns before Chambers’s body had cooled. With all he now knew, Jack was certain the written history hinted at a familial conflict within the confines of the hierarchy of the Priests of Osiris.

No one stopped him as he crossed to the elevator. He joined a half dozen other people and punched the button for the top floor. When the elevator deposited him onto the sixty-third floor, the security absent from the lobby was plainly visible there. A uniformed guard eyed Jack as he stepped into the hall and made his way toward a set of double glass doors and the reception desk beyond.

The receptionist looked up with a feigned smile. “Bonjour. Comment puis-je vous aider?”

“Good morning,” he said. “Is Mr. Rousseau available?”

The receptionist returned a cool look. When she spoke again, it was in perfect English, without a hint of an accent. “I’m sorry, sir. Mr. Rousseau isn’t available right now. If you’d like, I would be happy to take your name and number and see if I can get you on his schedule.”

Despite her perfect smile, Jack knew he’d never make it onto that schedule. He put his hands on the divider between them and leaned in, giving the woman a conspiratorial wink.

“My name’s Jack Hawthorne,” he said. “And I’m guessing Alain will stop whatever it is he’s doing and fit me in.”

Indecision crept onto the woman’s face. Jack saw her glance over his shoulder, probably at the security guard in the hall. When she looked back at Jack, his smile hadn’t wavered.

“I’ll wait over here while you call him,” Jack said, pointing to a couch in the corner. Without waiting for a reply, he did just that. From his seat on the couch, he watched as she picked up the phone. She sent a furtive look in his direction and made a half turn so that all he could see was her back. When seconds later she lowered the phone, she looked Jack’s way again, genuine surprise showing in her eyes.

Two minutes passed before the lord of the manor emerged from his office.

“Good morning, Dr. Hawthorne,” Rousseau said.

Jack stood and extended a hand. Rousseau’s handshake was solid and friendly.

Alain Rousseau was a slight man, but he had the air, the confidence, of someone of a much larger frame. His sharp, angular features highlighted a patrician nose. He didn’t look a day over fifty. Although he was completely bald, his smooth head bespoke intention.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve followed your work for years.” His tone carried a genuineness that almost caught Jack off guard. “To what do I owe the pleasure of a visit?”

“The pleasure’s mine, Alain,” Jack said, deliberate in his use of the informal. “Do you mind if we talk someplace more private?”

There was the slightest break in Rousseau’s graceful exterior, though it didn’t last long.

“Of course. Let’s go to my office.”

Once seated in his office—a large but not ostentatious one, considering how much wealth the man commanded—there was a palpable difference in the level of charm the man evinced.

“Now, what can I do for you, Dr. Hawthorne?”

Jack leaned back in the comfortable leather chair. “Alain, I’m here because there’s a member of my government who wants something I no longer have, something I believe is now in your possession.”

Surprise flickered in Rousseau’s eyes. “I’m not sure I understand. I have something of yours?”

“In the interest of full disclosure, they weren’t really mine,” Jack said. “I stole them from you a number of years ago and you just stole them back. I can’t fault you for that.”

“I don’t know what this is about,” Rousseau said. “But I can assure you that Rousseau-Beckett Industries does not engage in theft of any kind.”

Jack let that statement hang there. He sat in the guest chair and looked at a man who he believed had the power of life and death over his family. To his credit, Rousseau didn’t appear uncomfortable under the gaze. After a moment, Jack reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the book. He held it up but didn’t extend it to the Frenchman.

“I found this deep beneath Saint Petersburg. Just a few days ago, in fact.” Jack made a pretense of flipping through the book. He watched Rousseau’s face, seeing the surprise claim him. “It makes for some interesting reading.”

In that moment, as Jack studied the reaction of the man sitting on the other side of the desk, he wondered if Rousseau even knew what the book was. Perhaps in an organization that had spanned as many generations as had this one, there were secrets lost even to them.

“This helped fill in a lot of blanks,” Jack said. “It’s what ultimately led me to your office.”

“What is it that you want?” he asked.

“When this all started, I had one organization after me. My intent was to find the bones and trade them for the safety of my family. But somewhere along the way, I woke a sleeping dragon.” He paused and nodded to Rousseau, a kind of apology. “So now I have two organizations after me, one of which has shown no qualms about wanting me dead.”

“You’ve produced some of the background,” Rousseau said, “yet you still have not told me what it is you want. What do you think I can provide for you, Dr. Hawthorne?”

“I want you to call off the dogs,” Jack said without hesitation.

Alain Rousseau’s response was a slight smile. “You’re assuming I have dogs to call off.”

“You’re right, I am. After what happened in Australia, I fully expected your organization to come after me. But for some reason, you decided to let me live. I can’t pretend to understand why. All I’m asking for now is a return to that détente.”

“And if I agree to this, if I ‘call off the dogs,’ as you say, on your promise to stop looking for the relics, how will you deal with the other individuals who chased you from the comfort of your home?”

Jack offered Rousseau a smile in acknowledgment of what he’d admitted. “How does someone eat an elephant?” Jack asked him.

“One bite at a time,” Rousseau returned.

“We end our squabble and I’ll find another way to deal with the CIA,” Jack said. “As far as I’m concerned, the Priests of Osiris don’t exist.”

As the words left his lips, it occurred to him that he hadn’t yet said the name. He wondered if he’d made a serious error, but Rousseau’s expression hadn’t changed. Instead he leaned back in his chair and studied Jack for a moment.

“Thank you for stopping by, Dr. Hawthorne. I’ll consider your request.” Rousseau stood and started for the door, gesturing for Jack to follow. Before reaching the door, he said, “There’s one thing I can grant you. In honor of your boldness in coming here alone, you can be sure no dogs are waiting to pounce on you. At least not today.”

With that, Jack was back in the hall, the door closing behind him.

When he stepped out into the sunlight, he breathed a sigh of relief. Then he set to the task of shaking the dog that Rousseau would have most certainly set on him.

Jack kept his pace slow, not wanting to lose whoever was following him. As he walked, he had second thoughts about asking Espy to watch from afar. The plan hinged on her spotting him as he left the meeting with Rousseau, then following until she could identify a tail. But the whole plan would fall apart if she’d missed his exit.

He knew he was taking a chance getting rid of whoever Rousseau had put on him, especially after asking the man for a favor. If Rousseau was at all inclined to consider Jack’s proposal, interfering with one of the Frenchman’s operatives was counterproductive. Yet the risks of being followed outweighed those that might come from angering Rousseau.

Another issue with Jack’s plan was where he would go after leaving the meeting. He couldn’t go back to the hotel—not until he was certain they weren’t being followed. But unless he stopped somewhere, the tail would never get close. He looked around, trying to find something that would work, when he saw a café sandwiched between two other buildings. The front window was dark; the place seemed quiet. He crossed the street and entered.

In less than a minute, Jack was enjoying a Pelforth and chatting with the proprietor, an older gentleman who spoke good English. The man said he’d learned it during the war. Jack didn’t ask him which war. Once the man left him, Jack watched soccer on the television, wondering when he should start worrying about Espy.

Ten minutes later, the door opened and Jack turned to see his wife’s familiar smile. She crossed the room to the appreciative looks of the rest of the early-afternoon crowd and slid into a seat next to him. The proprietor gave her a smile much larger than the one Jack had received, but Espy waved him off.

“Having a nice time?” she asked.

“Nice enough,” Jack said. He took another sip of the Pelforth.

“Good. How about hurrying a bit so we can get away from here before the man with the gun wakes up?”

Jack looked at Espy and tried to determine if she was joking. What he saw on her face caused him to stand, toss five euros on the table, and follow her outside.