“During the height of World War II, with the help of theConfrérie, the Nazis stole this golden treasure, after which it vanished into history—along with all its potential. Such is the irreparable harm done by our enemy. And why they must never secure the book.”
“Then there are more of these Adages in the text?” Sharyn asked.
“Oui.Three in total. TheSecondehas been partially decrypted and seems to point to a location in the Alps. Where exactly and what it holds remain a mystery. But according to Saint-Germain, theTroisième—the third and final Adage—holds his greatestsecrète. Again, we can’t know with precision what that might be, but some suspect it may be the key to immortality itself.”
“Why do you think that?” Sharyn asked.
“For a very simple reason. From the words that open Saint-Germain’s journal: ‘C’est là que réside le secret de mon immortalité. Viens me trouver si tu l'oses.’”
“Which means what?”
“‘Herein lies the secret to my immortality. Come find me, if you dare.’”
A stunned silence spread across the room.
“Now, please, you must go. Toss this phone. Buy a burner and call me again from it. I’ll give you an address in London where I’ll meet you and explain more, but—”
The Frenchman cut off, speaking again to someone else.
“I have a car,” Duncan whispered to Sharyn, while they waited. “In the building’s garage.”
The speaker returned to the line, his voice sharp and abrupt. “Ms. Karr, are you currently in the St. Leonards neighborhood of Exeter?”
Sharyn glanced out the row of windows that overlooked the River Exe. “We... we are.”
“Then run. You’ve been found. A police task force is already enroute to your area. Go!”
The line disconnected.
Before anyone could move, a fierce pounding shook the front door.
15
9:44 a.m.
Duncan flinched at the hard knocking and grabbed the phone from Sharyn. He pulled up the lobby’s security feed as he crossed toward the door. During the call with the Frenchman, he had assigned Archie to monitor for any suspicious activity below.
“Did you see anything?” he hissed back to his friend. “Were you watching the lobby?”
“Bollocks...” Archie snatched up his own phone, which rested on the sofa next to him, clearly abandoned during the tense conversation.
With the feed now filling Duncan’s phone, he searched the screen for any sign of an armed task force, but the lobby looked as calm and quiet as usual. Once he reached the front door, he tapped the security screen next to it, bringing up a view of the hall outside.
Two men filled the frame. The larger pounded a fist on the door.
Duncan sagged with relief, momentarily resting his forehead against the door. “False alarm,” he called to the room. “It’s only Seb and Dom.”
Archie fell back heavily into his seat. “Those barmy bastards’ timing couldn’t be worse.”
Duncan unlocked the door and yanked it open. His two friends had the flat directly under this one. He confronted the pair, blocking the way inside. “Seb. Dom. We were just headed out. To... to get some breakfast.”
Need to get these two clear of here as quickly as possible.
Sebastian Kroner stepped forward, shouldering past Duncan to barge inside. The man—the son of an MP with the House of Commons—had no respect for boundaries. His twin brother, Dominic, followed with a more apologetic look. They were not identical, but fraternal. Seb was all wiry muscle and had his father’s hawkish nose and jet-black hair. Dom had a wider gut and softer features.
“We’ll go with you,” Seb said. “Coffee and a ciggie sound perfect.”
“We’ve been up all night,” Dom explained.
