A twinge of envy at such clear affection rang through her. She tried not to think about what Julian Wright had said regardingwhyshe had been selected to bear this burden, a detail that only reinforced how the shadow of her father’s abuse still hung over her and continued to have repercussions.
Still, she also recognized that she lived only because of her father’s training and lessons, and, yes, a love that still carried through all the hardship.
She knew it would take time to balance all of this.
For now, she pushed such thoughts away.
Naomi sat on Archie’s other side. She looked exhausted with dark circles under her eyes. She had offered a thumbnail version of all that had transpired in San Vito. A fuller recounting would come later.
Past her friend, Laurent sat up front. His face bore a heavy wrap over his broken cheek, a temporary patch, like Duncan’s soft splint. All of their injuries would need far more attention and time to heal, as would the wounds not visible. Sharyn even suspected Laurent had taken the seat next to the pilot because he did not fully trust the man not to betray them.
Don’t blame him.
Not after all that had happened.
Still, Sharyn knew one person who had earned her full trust. She turned her head to stare into Duncan’s eyes. He breathed heavily, both from pain and from the soporifics given to him.
Still, he smiled at her. “What is it?”
She lifted up, bringing her face close to his. He leaned down, expecting a kiss. That would come in a moment, but first she shared a secret.
One meant for him, for her friends, and no others.
She whispered it to his waiting lips.
“I know where the third treasure is hidden.”
75
April 5, 10:08 a.m. CEST
Mellieha, Republic of Malta
Duncan climbed out of the taxi van and into a sunny Maltese morning. He luxuriated in the warmth. It was nothing like the rainy skies and low clouds of springtime in Exeter. Still, the breeze reaching this hilltop from the Mediterranean’s blue waters below required wearing a light jacket. He wished he could’ve donned shorts, but not knowing the terrain ahead, he had settled for khaki pants and stout boots.
He cleared out of the way for the other four. They were all similarly attired. Only, Naomi had added a wide-brimmed sunhat. And Sharyn had her usual ballcap with her ponytail tucked out the back.
Tag climbed out last, using his cane to help propel him. “Ready?”
“We’d better be,” Archie said. “We’ve traveled a proper long distance to get here.”
Duncan rubbed his wrist, which had long healed, but he still found himself massaging it when nervous.
For Easter Break, the five of them had flown to the Republic of Malta, a trio of islands about sixty miles south of Sicily. While other university students headed to parties in Spain or Greece, they had detoured here. Not for drunken festivities, but to hunt for confirmation of what they had worked on over these past five months. What Naomi called theirprivate study cluband what Tag described asour littleGardiensparty.
While they had reached some conclusions months ago—using charts, maps, and reading histories—they had waited for this school break. For a couple reasons. First, they wanted the heat to die down. After the events in the Dolomites, the spotlight had shone too strongly on them—both at school and far wider. The discovery of the lost treasures of the Second Temple had garnered much press, especially with the murderous conspiracy surrounding it.
The aftermath and repercussions still reverberated across intelligence agencies, financial institutions, and nations. Cardinal Tissot had been captured and imprisoned, but the ongoing efforts to root out other members of theConfrériecontinued. This was aided by Saanvi Burman, who was confined to a prison hospital, paralyzed from the neck down, requiring help even breathing. Archie’s father also worked diplomatic channels to further this effort. Though, knowing such organizations, the enemy would surely rise again in one form or another.
As Sir Kelly had once told them,power does not tolerate a vacuum.
Additionally, Duncan’s dad—with his international ties to the banking world—worked alongside Archie’s father to ferret out and confiscate all the gold hidden by Tissot’s family. Any success in this regard would likely wound Tissot more than the decades of incarceration ahead of him.
Off in the Dolomites, Laurent continued working with a team of archaeologists, religious scholars, and other academics who painstakingly sought to extract the vast treasure. Duncan imagined he was also looking for Saint-Germain’s key amid all that gold. This thought caused him some guilt, knowing what Sharyn had kept secret.
He stared up the curve of the narrow street. It led to a church with a tall belltower. The Sanctuary of Our Lady of Mellieha. It was the oldest church in Malta, first consecrated in 1436. From their studies, this seemed like the best place to begin their search.
Naomi joined him, craning up at the stone structure. “And you think the Temple of Water is somewhere inside there?”
