Authors: t
“I don’t believe I saw you at the auction.” I couldn’t have missed him with all that testosterone flowing!
He shrugged benignly. “I spoke to the accounts clerk afterwards.”
“And he gave you the information?”
“Well, not exactly. But his ledger was open and I … have the ability to read
upside down. It comes in useful sometimes.”
Sara wondered what other little skills he had that might come in useful sometime.
Like addling her brain with those exotic eyes. Or what those strong fingers would feel like stroking her bare skin … stop this! Concentrate on the topic. With her not-so-great record with Bad Boys of America, she didn’t need to go falling all over a perfect stranger. Especially a devastatingly handsome one. She should know what good-looking men could do. Breaking hearts is what they did best.
“How did you get by security, by the way?” Sara asked. Her boss may be an
eccentric, but he was a lucid one, well aware of the high risk of burglary. He had surveillance cameras posted around his estate and every gardener, handyman and servant had also been trained as security guards. In addition to the uniformed ones and the off-duty officers who had been waiting for her.
Lucas looked a bit sheepish, making him seem like a small boy caught with his
fingers in the cookie jar. Sara began to wonder if he had, indeed, done professional SEARCH FOR THE SPEAR Cynthia Breeding 20
acting. He reached inside the attaché again and produced a badge.
“Scotland Yard?” Sara said as she examined it.
“It’s the real thing,” he answered and she blushed somewhat guiltily and handed it back. “I do a little … investigative … work for them occasionally. Usually when they need to authenticate medieval artifacts that have been reported stolen and pop up somewhere.”
That explained his little skill of being able to read upside down. Detective
training, no doubt. Fleetingly, she wondered if the Yard trained its men in the art of seduction too. Lucas Ramsey could make James Bond look like a geek. Goddess, she needed to get a grip. Sara leaned back against the settee.
“So, then. Why are you here?”
His eyes held hers a moment longer and then he turned to Mr. Smith. “As I said, I was on the dig, but I never got to look at the manuscript. It was sealed in a metal container when we brought it out. I’d very much like to read it. That’s all.” He opened an attaché case and pulled out papers that he laid on the desk. “Letters of reference. I think you’ll find that I am who I say I am.”
“The manuscript is in Gaelic,” Sara said dryly.
“And I’m a Gael,” Lucas replied with a grin.
“You could read this?” Mr. Smith interrupted.
“If you’ll permit me.” Lucas held out his hand.
Mr. Smith considered for a moment and then reluctantly turned over one piece.
Lucas accepted it carefully, holding it by its edges. His eyebrows rose as he scanned the paper and when he looked up, his gaze was sharp and alert, almost like an animal sensing danger.
“This document needs to be locked away someplace where it can’t be stolen.”
“Why?” Sara asked as she felt soft hair on her arms begin to rise.
“Because if this falls into the wrong hands, it could mean the destruction of
civilization as we know it.”
* * * *
“One of the suburbs,” he answered with a shrug. “A pity I couldn’t just nab her at the airport, but there were two policemen waiting for her.”
“I expected as much,” Baylor replied. “She probably called her boss after the incident at Sotheby’s.” His face hardened as he thought of that idiot, Toby. This could all have been avoided if that fool had done his job. The kid was still in his private infirmary healing. He was tempted to make him soak in very salty water and let those wounds burn awhile. “She didn’t spot you?”
Alan looked slightly affronted. “I’m a pro. Has any mark ever made me?”
“Don’t get cocky. You do your job.” Baylor smiled slightly. “You’re the only one who’s escaped the whip.”
“I prefer pleasure, not pain,” Caldwell answered.
Baylor nodded. “Did you case the place?”
“Security’s tight,” he answered. “I got as close as I could without having my picture taken. There’s a gatehouse, electric fences, and, if I’m not mistaken, a whole lot more guards than just the uniform.”
SEARCH FOR THE SPEAR Cynthia Breeding 21
“Why do you say that?”
“Every hired hand looked like a bouncer from a bar in a shady neighborhood.”
“Why so many? Is the guy guarding Ft. Knox?”
“Seems like the guy collects medieval weapons and other expensive stuff. The
place is supposed to be a friggin’ museum.”
Baylor raised the eyebrow over his uncovered eye. “Do I want to know how you
found that out?”
Caldwell grinned. “There was a nice-looking piece of ass in the next driveway, polishing her Mercedes. I struck up a conversation.”
“Ah.” Alan worked out several hours a day and had one of those chiseled,
square-jawed faces that women seemed to like, which was an asset he used. He had no trouble getting women between the sheets. As he mentioned to Baylor, it was amazing what a woman would tell him when he said he wanted to “cuddle and talk” after sex.
“Do you want me to seduce the mark? I wouldn’t mind,” Caldwell said. “She
has nice tits.”
Baylor considered it. He liked biting women’s nipples. Hard enough to put real fear into them. If they screamed, so much the better. And he would bet that this bitch would be a real fighter. He liked those. But better to leave this one alone. At least for now.
Baylor steepled his fingers and thought. Breaking and entering was probably not a viable solution. Accosting the bitch would do no good. She’d no longer have the document. No doubt it was under lock and key in some vault. He sighed.
“You’re going to have to go in.”
“What’s my cover?”
“Freelancer. You’re doing a magazine article for Guns and Swords. A period
piece of ancient weapons.”
“Um. Guns I know. Swords I’ll have to study up on.”
“Use the Internet,” Baylor said and opened a drawer. He removed a small box
and slid it toward Caldwell. “GPS tracking device inside. No bigger than a dime. Slip it into the woman’s purse. It won’t hurt to keep posted on her whereabouts. She might come in useful later.”
Caldwell nodded and stood up to leave, slipping the box inside his jacket. At the door he turned. “Just one more thing.”
Baylor looked up from the cigar he was lighting. “What?”
“The guy that you saw at the auction—the one you called the Templar—he was
there, too.”
Baylor forced his hand to keep hold of the cigar. “He was with her?”
Caldwell shook his head. “Nah. He came later, while I was talking to the broad.
Just thought you might want to know.”
“Yes. Thank you.” Baylor listened to the door click shut and then blew a smoke ring. He had thought the immortal was only at the auction to get de Molay’s shield—
Ramsey had a sentimental streak which was something Baylor couldn’t understand in a man. But now … if the Templar had followed the bitch to Dallas, then he must know about the Hallows too. And if he got to them first, he’d put them to use for some altruistic good for the universe. The power of the Hallows was neutral, but the one who owned them directed that power.
SEARCH FOR THE SPEAR Cynthia Breeding 22
Baylor thought of all the years he had spent carefully cultivating the seeds of hate in the Middle East: Jordan, Syria, the Gaza strip, Iraq—damn the Americans for meddling there, Baghdad was to have been his base of power—but Iran was coming along nicely and he was working on Nigeria. But with the Hallows, he could destroy the earth and return to the Isle for the final battle. …
Time was suddenly of the essence. Baylor reached for the telephone. He was
going to Dallas.
* * * *
Steady. Stay in control. Smith will call. He’d taken a gamble, handing back that first page without reading the rest. But he needed to establish trust if he were going to succeed. And, as much as he tried to ignore the fact, he wanted that dark-haired, blue-eyed beauty to trust him. He had felt her aura brush his and the actual physical contact of taking her hand had sent heat to his groin, but there was something else to. Something he couldn’t quite define.
“Please put this in your strongest safe,” he’d said when he handed the parchment back to Smith. “I can interpret this for you, but you might not believe what I tell you.”
“Is it about the Holy Grail?” Smith asked hesitantly.
“In part.”
“Are you deliberately trying to be mysterious?” Sara asked, “or just trying to scare us into thinking that paper spells Armageddon?”
“There could be some truth to that,” he answered and Sara stared at him, her
mouth slightly open in surprise. He tried not think of how soft those parted pink lips were or how much he wanted to slide his tongue between them and taste her. Not now.
He had stood with reluctance and nodded toward Smith. “When I finish reading
that—if you’ll allow it—I want you to know that I’m telling you the truth. I want you to call those references I gave you and check me out. You need to know I am who I say I am. If the rest of that document says what I think it does, we are going to be in this search together. And for what will come, there must be trust.”
There had been a moment when Smith had narrowed his eyes and looked
thoughtful. Then he had nodded.
“How can I be in touch?”
And Lucas had given him the number for the hotel. That had been almost forty-
eight hours ago. Patience. References take time.
One of the things Lucas had learned to do when he re-invented himself every
sixty or seventy years, was to form a complete identity. In the Dark Ages, no one had really asked. There were so few literate souls. During Arthur’s time, it had been easy to don armor and fight beside the Briton king. His identity in Brittany was just about over since he hadn’t aged in thirty years. His respect for Arthur ran deep. That was a man who understood the power of the hallowed sword. He slept in Avalon. Perhaps Brighid would send him back to the world one day.
The Templars had accepted Lucas into the Brotherhood without many questions
either. But then, he had pretty much appeared out of nowhere to stand on the Temple steps, his unusually light hair a target for the Saracens. When he had suggested a place SEARCH FOR THE SPEAR Cynthia Breeding 23
for Godfrey to begin digging and they unearthed the first treasure, they had sensed he was different, perhaps not truly of this world. But they had embraced him and made him the tenth Templar. The secret one. And the secret of his immortality was still protected by the inner circle today.
Technology was a fantastic thing. Gavin had managed to create birth certificates, passports and other legal documents as needed. The letters of reference were genuine, for Lucas had carefully cultivated relationships with trustworthy men in established businesses in England and Scotland and France.
His cover was good. All he could do was wait. And try not to think about Sara.
* * * *
Sara closed the door to Professor MacDonald’s office. He sat in a wheelchair
behind a magnificent cherry wood desk that was cluttered with a dozen books and papers strewn everywhere. More books sat in stacks beside him. The professor’s cardigan was miss-buttoned and tufts of white hair stuck out from his head, an indication that he’d been running his fingers through it. He put down the pen he’d been holding with his frail, ink-stained fingers.
“Your housekeeper let me in,” Sara said as she walked around the desk and
hugged the old man. “She was just leaving for the day. Where’s Robert?” She hadn’t seen the manservant when she’d come in.
“Oh, he’ll be along,” the professor said with a smile. “You worry too much about me. Now sit and tell me why you’ve come.”
Sara pulled her chair closer and sat down with a mischievous smile. “I have
something that I think will make your day.”
His faded blue eyes twinkled. “You’ve already made my day, dear. I never hear from any of my other students.”
Which was a shame, Sara thought as she removed the sheets of paper from her
purse. Professor MacDonald had been one of those rare teachers who had infinite patience and took time to personally know who his students were. And his mind was like a huge computer data base of history.
“How would you like to interpret a document written in middle-Gaelic?”
“Aye, it would be giving me a fine wee memory of me homeland,” he said with a
fake accent.
Sara laughed and tried not to think about the soft rolling brogue that Lucas had spoken with yesterday. The sound of his rich baritone enveloped her in a cocoon of warmth, just as if she were standing in the embrace of his strong arms, pressed against that hard, broad chest. Warm and safe. She shook her head. Why was she thinking safe?
He was probably anything but safe.
“Sara?”
The old man’s voice jogged her out of her fantasy. She took a deep breath and handed him the papers. “My boss just bought the original. This is a copy that I’d like for you to interpret if you can.”
He took it from her. “I’ll have to refresh my memory and dig through a couple of language books to do this proper credit.” He adjusted his bifocals and squinted at it. “It appears to be some sort of letter addressed to a Mr. Sinclair, something about a fate SEARCH FOR THE SPEAR Cynthia Breeding 24