The Paris Vendetta Page 0,25

knew the Murrays would handle things.

Mr. Guildhall came close, and Ashby asked, "How long will it take to retrieve the gold?"

"We have it already. It's in the truck."

"Excellent. Load it on Archimedes. We need to leave. Tomorrow, I have business elsewhere."

Chapter Six

FIFTEEN

DENMARK

MALONE AND THORVALDSEN LEFT THE BEDROOM AND WALKED toward Christiangade's main foyer. There Thorvaldsen climbed a staircase to the next floor, where he followed a wide corridor adorned with Danish art and antiques to a closed door. Malone knew where they were headed.

Cai's room.

Inside was an intimate chamber, with high ceilings, soft-colored plaster walls, and a four-poster English bed.

"He always called this his thinking space," Thorvaldsen said, switching on three lamps. "This room was redecorated many times. It went from a nursery, to a little boy's room, to a young man's haven, to a grown man's retreat. Lisette loved changing it."

He knew the subject of Thorvaldsen's late wife was taboo. In the two years they'd been together they'd discussed her but once, and then only fleetingly. Her portrait remained downstairs, more photographs of her scattered throughout the house. It seemed only visual reminders were permitted of this sacred memory.

He'd never before been allowed in Cai's room, and he noticed more visual reminders here, too-shelves littered with knickknacks.

"I come here often," Thorvaldsen said.

He had to ask, "Is that healthy?"

"Probably not. But I have to hold on to something, and this room is all I have left."

He wanted to know what was happening so he kept his mouth shut and his ears open and indulged his friend. Thorvaldsen stooped against a dresser adorned with family photographs. An abyss of unfathomable grief seemed to engulf him.

"He was murdered, Cotton. Gunned down in the prime of his life for nothing more than the proving of a point."

"What evidence do you have?"

"Cabral hired four shooters. Three went to that plaza-"

"And I killed them." His vehemence at that reality alarmed him.

Thorvaldsen faced him. "Rightly so. I found the fourth. He told me what happened. He saw what you did. How you shot the two. He was to cover the third man, the one who shot you, but fled the plaza when you started firing. He was terrified of Cabral, so he disappeared."

"So why not have Cabral prosecuted?"

"Not necessary. He's dead."

Then he knew. "He's in one of those body bags?"

Thorvaldsen nodded. "He came to finish me himself."

He caught what was not said. "Tell me the rest."

"I didn't want to speak in front of Sam. He's so eager. Perhaps too eager. He believes himself right and wants vindication or, more correctly, validation. I hate that he was almost harmed."

Thorvaldsen's gaze returned to the dresser. Malone watched as emotions writhed within the older Dane.

"What did you discover?" Malone quietly asked.

"Something I never expected."

SAM CLIMBED ABOARD THE BOAT AS JESPER TIED THE OTHER craft to the stern. Cold Scandinavian winter air burned his face. They'd laid both bodies, outside the bags, in the other boat and were now towing the craft into the open sound. Jesper had already told him how strong currents would sweep the boat toward Sweden, where it would be found after the sun rose.

What an exhausting night.

So much was happening.

Three days ago Thorvaldsen had predicted that the situation would escalate, and it certainly had.

"You do a lot for Henrik," he said to Jesper over the outboard's roar.

"Herre Thorvaldsen has done a lot for me."

"Killing people is a little above and beyond, wouldn't you say?"

"Not if they deserve it."

The waters were choppy from a stiff northerly breeze. Luckily, Jesper had provided him with a thick wool coat, insulated gloves, and scarf.

"Is he going to kill Cabral and Ashby?" he asked.

"Senor Cabral is dead."

He didn't understand. "When did that happen?"

Jesper motioned to the boat they were towing. "He underestimated Herre Thorvaldsen."

He stared back at the dark hull containing two corpses. He hadn't liked being dismissed, and now wondered even more what Thorvaldsen and Malone were discussing. Jesper still had not answered his question about killing Ashby, and Sam realized he wasn't going to. This man was absolutely loyal, and replying would mean breaching that commitment to Thorvaldsen.

But his silence said it all.

"ASHBY IS ON A TREASURE HUNT," THORVALDSEN SAID. "A TREASURE that has eluded people for a long time."

"So what?"

"It matters. I'm not sure how, just yet. But it matters."

Malone waited.

"Young Sam is right about a conspiracy. I haven't told him, but my investigators confirmed numerous recent meetings of five people, who gather in Paris."

"His Paris Club?"

Thorvaldsen shrugged.

"People have a right to meet."

He noticed a light