“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Bailey intoned, looking equally regretful about this circumstance. “If you’d like some time alone with your brother...”
She shook her head, lowering her hand. She opened her mouth to speak, but she had to swallow hard to get her words out. “Thank you, Father,” she said softly. “But I will find a time to grieve more fully. For now, I wish nothing more than to uncover the bastards who killed my brother.”
Bailey’s brows rose at her harsh tone.
Yelagin touched the young woman’s arm. “Such language—”
She stepped away, her back straightening, refusing to apologize for her words. She circled the group and crossed stiffly to her brother’s side. Unlike Jason, she did not balk. Fingers rose to touch her brother’s cheek.She then gently shifted the drape more securely, as if tucking her brother into bed.
A prayer whispered from her lips.
Bailey drew them to the far side of the room. “We’ve already completed our examination of the bodies,” he told Yelagin. “We don’t have to stay long. But there is another matter I wanted to discuss with you before we retired to the Apostolic Nunciature.”
“Of course, anything. You’ve all had a long day of travel, and I know how dear Monsignor Borrelli was to you personally.”
“Thank you.”
“What do you need from me?”
“It concerns a photograph that Monsignor Borrelli dispatched to the Vatican archives prior to his death. We had hoped you might be able to help us about one aspect of it.”
Jason kept his expression stoic. Bailey had not warned them about his intent to share this level of intel with Bishop Yelagin.
“Let me show you,” Bailey said and drew out a tablet from a satchel.
The priest tapped open a file to reveal the photo of the ancient Greek book’s gilded frontispiece. The image glowed brightly on the screen, only the good father had cropped out the top section that showed the golden book. All that was visible was the sketch of a building and part of the annotations surrounding it.
“We were hoping you might help us identify this place,” Bailey said.
Yelagin held out a hand. “If I may?”
The father passed him the tablet. As Yelagin studied it, Bailey cast a quick glance over to Monk and Jason, his look heavy with import.
Jason understood.
This is the test that Bailey had mentioned earlier, to judge Yelagin’s level of cooperation.
“I don’t understand,” the bishop said. “What does this have to do with the men’s deaths?”
“We believe Monsignor Borrelli photographed a page from one of the books found in the vault under Moscow. For him to have dispatched it with such haste, I feared it might be important.”
Yelagin’s eyes narrowed as he mumbled, “Perhaps he believed it was some clue that would lead to the Golden Library of the Tsars.”
Jason inwardly flinched.
How had the bishop made that leap? Especially without seeing the gilded book at the top of the page?
“Why do you say that?” Bailey asked, feigning confusion.
Yelagin sighed. “It was Monsignor Borrelli’s hope—all of ours, actually—that the books hidden in that vault might be part of the lost library of Ivan the Terrible.” He lifted the tablet. “This certainly makes me wonder if that might not be true.”
“Why’s that?” Monk asked.
“This sketch. If I’m not mistaken, it’s an early rendition of the Holy Trinity Lavra in Sergiyev Posad, a town seventy kilometers outside of Moscow.”
“Truly?” Bailey retrieved the tablet and tapped through to a search browser. He finally brought up a photo of a cluster of onion-shaped bell towers, fortified walls, and clusters of buildings. He positioned it next to the sketch. “You may be right.”
He shared the photo with Monk and Jason to confirm.
