sniff the air, as if he knew someone was watching. He then found a cigar from his back pocket, snipped the end with a gold-colored guillotine, and lit the tip as he continued to survey the scene.
“Get out of here,” she said, under her breath.
“You know that guy.”
“That’s Danjel Spagna. Get out of here.”
Not his style to cut and run.
The officers were converging, all four closing the circle, coming straight for them.
Spagna blew a cloud of bluish smoke to the sky, then pointed with the cigar and called out, “Ms. Price. I need you and Mr. Daniels to come with me.”
“I vote no,” Luke said.
“Ditto.”
“Two each?” he whispered.
“Absolutely.”
He whirled and pounced on the officer closest, kicking him off the Segway. A second cop rushed forward, but Luke was a step ahead, planting his shoulder into the man’s chest with a quick charge that lifted the guy off his feet, flinging him backward and down hard to the cobbles. Turning, he saw that Laura was not having the same success. One of her two targets had tackled her to the ground and the other, whom initially she’d managed to take down, had rebounded. Now they were subduing her. He could intervene, but it would only be another few moments before all four cops were up and in the mix and who knew how many more would arrive.
She’d been right.
One of them had to get out of here.
And he was elected.
He dissolved into the sea of people that had parted when the confrontation started, tucking his head and elbowing his way forward, layering bodies between him and trouble. He heard shouts behind him and managed a quick peek over his shoulder, seeing Laura being yanked to her feet and led toward the man she’d identified as Spagna. He escaped the crowd at its outer fringes and made his way down one of the alleys. No one was in pursuit. He ducked into a recessed doorway and found his cell phone, connecting to Stephanie’s direct line. She answered and he filled her in on all that had happened, including the latest dilemma.
“Things have changed, Luke. I need you to work with Ms. Price.”
“So you okayed this partnership?”
“I went along with it. Temporarily.”
“Ordinarily I’d be a good little soldier and do exactly as you say. But I need to know what the hell is going on. I’m flying blind here.”
“All I can say is that Danjel Spagna being there, in Valletta, is proof enough that something big is brewing. Earlier I thought Ms. Price just an irritant. Now we need her help. She has institutional knowledge that can speed things up for us.”
Stephanie’s tone was slow and even, just like in every crisis. That’s what made her so good. She never lost her cool.
But he was beginning to lose his. “Spagna has her.”
“You’re a smart guy. Change that.”
He started to toss her a wisecrack but he knew what she wanted to hear. “I’ll make it happen.”
“Good. I have a two-front war at the moment, and the other end is in big trouble.”
The last thing he ever wanted was to add to her problems.
His job was to solve things.
“It’s Cotton, Luke. He’s walked into a hornet’s nest.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
ITALY
Cotton crossed the paved courtyard, following Pollux Gallo into the monastery’s refectory, a spacious room of plastered limestone blocks and a tile floor littered with workstations.
“We spent a lot of money refurbishing this complex,” Gallo said. “It was nearly falling in on itself. Now it is the Conservatory of Library and Archives. A state-of-the-art facility.”
And unknown to the world, Cotton silently added. But he assumed a lot about the Knights of Malta would fit into that category.
His original greeter from Rome had accompanied them inside, the driver remaining with the car. Waiting in the refectory were two brown-robed monks. Both were young and short-haired, with a no-nonsense glint in their eyes. Not exactly the religious type. They stood quiet and attentive.
“I thought this was no longer a monastery,” he said.
“It’s not, but these brothers are part of a contingent that maintains the archive.”
Gallo motioned ahead and they left through a plank door in the far side, entering a lit cloister that led past former monk cells on one side and a garden on the other. Each of the cells was identified by a number and letter, the old wooden doors replaced with metal panels and keypad locks.
“Each room contains a different segment of our archives,” Gallo said. “We have everything cataloged and electronically indexed for easy reference. The