The Second Messiah

Jack moved over to the door and heard Novara’s footsteps fade. “It sounds as if he’s heading in the direction of the main gate.”

Yasmin joined him. “Do you think it’s Pasha who’s arrived?”

“Who knows? But I saw the scroll.”

“Where?” Yasmin said, as she and Josuf stared at Jack.

“In a room upstairs. From the looks of things Father Novara’s been working on it. Give me a hand trying to open the door, Josuf.”

Jack turned the door handle and tried pulling. When that didn’t succeed, he and Josuf took turns heaving their shoulders against the wood but it didn’t budge or splinter.

“It’s rock solid. We need something to try to lever it open.” Jack grabbed the oil lamp and scoured the room but he saw nothing, the chair legs too flimsy and the table legs too thick to wedge into the doorjamb.

“Wait, listen,” Yasmin said.

Footsteps sounded out in the courtyard. Jack replaced the lamp as a key rattled in the lock and the door was pushed open. Novara appeared, the gun still in his hand. Behind him stood two men.

One was gray-bearded, in his fifties with dark, restless eyes. He wore a crumpled Panama hat, pale linen suit, and a silk cravat. His left hand was badly scarred and looked withered and twisted. In his other hand he clutched a polished walking cane.

His companion was younger, with a muscular torso that bulged under his lightweight suit. His coarse face had a violent, brutal look.

Novara stepped into the room, followed by the men. The one in the linen suit limped in front of the table and doffed his hat. “My apologies for keeping you, Mr. Cane. Please sit, all of you.”

Jack and the others sat at the table. The man held out his good hand to the priest. “Give me the gun, Vincento.”

Novara handed over the pistol and the man said, “Now bring me the box.”

“You want it here?”

“Yes. Now.”

Novara frowned. “Why, Pasha?”

“Don’t question. Just do as I say.”

Novara seemed to know better than to argue and he left, his footsteps fading in the corridor. The man named Pasha studied his captives, his eyes settling on Jack. “So, the priest says you told him you found out about me through the Bedu’s brother. Before you answer my questions I would suggest you tell the truth. Unless you want my bodyguard here to show you what a callous brute he can be, Mr. Cane. The priest also tells me that it was you who found the scroll.”

“That’s right.”

“You’re a very lucky man, Mr. Cane.”

“You could have fooled me.”

The man named Pasha smiled. Novara’s footsteps returned. He carried the pinewood box reverently in his hands, as if it contained something precious. Pasha carefully took it from him. “The translation?”

Novara removed a sealed white envelope from under his habit, his face alive with excitement as he silently handed it to Pasha. “It’s as I said, truly remarkable.”

Jack said, “Any chance of hearing the translation?”

Novara gave him a stern look. “The scroll is destined never to be seen, along with the others.”

“What others?” Cane asked.

Before the priest could answer, Pasha put up a hand for him be silent. “You have said enough, Vincento.” He turned to his bodyguard. “Take care of our problem, Botwan.”

The bodyguard removed an HK automatic pistol from his pocket, along with a silencer, and screwed it onto the tip of the weapon.

Father Novara looked horrified. “You can’t kill them here. This is a house of God.”

“We do what we must. How many of your fellow monks are in the monastery: three, four?”

“Four, including myself. But that’s not the point.”

“I’m afraid it is the point,” Pasha said.

The bodyguard aimed the pistol at Father Novara. The priest’s mouth opened in alarm as the weapon coughed twice. Two rounds thudded into his chest. He was flung back against the wall and collapsed in a heap onto the floor.

Yasmin screamed. Jack held her and shouted at Pasha, “For God’s sake . . .”

Pasha said, “You’re right. Unfortunately, God has everything to do with it.”

Blood pooled around the priest’s body as Pasha knelt, felt the man’s neck for a pulse. Finally he stood, brandishing the priest’s weapon and said to the bodyguard, “You know what to do, Botwan. I want no trace of us left behind. I’ll deal with these three.”

40

Jack clutched Yasmin’s hand as Pasha pulled up a chair, sat opposite, and kept the pistol aimed at them. The minutes passed but he didn’t speak. Jack said, “Are you going to kill us?”

Pasha shrugged indifferently. “It comes to us all in the end, Mr. Cane. I have learned that whether any of us live or die is really of no great consequence except, of course, to those whom we love.”

“Then how’d you like to do us all a favor and shoot yourself?”

A grin spread on Pasha’s face. “It’s good that you have a sense of humor, Mr. Cane. I like that.” He touched Novara’s limp body with the tip of his shoe. “Men like the priest here, dry as a stick, they give me a headache.”