Tonight he抎 felt like those papal crusaders from long ago here on a mission. Only in reverse. Where they抎 killed out of politics and greed, he抎 avenged a horrible wrong and sent a message to his enemy. In that last regard he and the crusaders were similar. He could only hope that the Most Reverend Archbishop Gerard Vilamur would understand the gesture.
He turned and walked away from the castle, heading toward his hotel, his footsteps echoing off the uneven cobbles to the arcades of the steeped roofs. Everything around him stood sheathed in shadows. That feeling of anxiety, one he抎 grown accustomed to while growing up but had fought to eliminate as an adult, had seeped back into his bloodstream. Any broken thread in the complicated fabric of his plan could ruin everything. Where before the path had seemed clear, and destiny had filled him with confidence, now he wasn抰 so sure.
Uncertainty.
A state he did not care for.
It could be fatal. No question. But it could also be an asset, forcing him to be ready to deal with what fate might throw his way梐djusting, adapting, or reversing course altogether. The human brain didn抰 mind risk, so long as the odds were known. But when the outcome became ambiguous? Totally unpredictable? That was another matter. Unfortunately, he now found himself squarely within that state.
The ball had started rolling.
But where would it end up?
He entered the H魌el de la Cit? obtained his room key from the desk clerk, and climbed the stairs to his suite. Andre was staying with a friend who lived below the mount in the modern section of the city. The new Perfectus had said nothing on the drive back from B閦iers, but it was clear that a measure of satisfaction had been drawn from what happened.
His phone purred just as he stepped inside the room and closed the door. The curator in Ghent. He answered the FaceTime call and the screen filled with a chaotic scene of smoke, firefighters, and police.
揟hat looks bad. What抯 happening??he said to the phone抯 microphone in English.
揟he arsonist was a woman, whom the police killed while she was trying to escape.?
揌ave they learned her identity??
揘ot yet. But they抮e working on that.?
揅ould you scan around? I抎 like to see more.?
The image on the phone moved and he recognized the restorer抯 workshop, where he抎 visited several times, its windows shattered, smoke still seeping out, firefighters surveying the damage. The pan continued until he saw an ambulance parked at the end of a narrow street, Sister Kelsey Deal sitting on the back being treated by paramedics.
揅ould you go to her??he said to the curator.
The image went jittery as his man walked closer to the ambulance and spoke to the paramedic. The nun sat with a blanket draped around her. She spoke a moment with the curator, then faced the camera.
揗onsieur de Foix,?she said. 揑 am so sorry, but the panel is gone.?
揑t抯 not your fault,?he said.
And he meant that.
揑 was the restorer. It was entrusted to me. Whatever happens to it is my responsibility.?
揌e抯 right, sister, it is not your fault,?he heard the curator say from behind the camera. 揘othing that happened is your fault.?
揑 tried to stop her,?she said. 揃ut was not able.?
He could see that she was terribly upset. As was he. They were only a few days away from the world learning the panel抯 long-held secret.
揑 am so sorry this has happened,?he said to her again.
揟he curator tells me,?Sister Deal said, 搕hat the remaining panels of the altarpiece are untouched, safe in the cathedral. Just mine was attacked.?
Which made no sense.
Why burn it?
Chapter 11
Kelsey stared at the phone screen and the face of Bernat de Foix. Everything seemed unreal, distant, too dreadful even to contemplate.
The Adoration of the Mystic Lamb or, as it was more commonly known, the Ghent Altarpiece, was one of the world抯 great works of art, created in the early part of the fifteenth century, at the threshold of the Renaissance, by two brothers, Hubert and Jan van Eyck. It comprised twelve oak panels measuring, when fully opened, twelve feet high by seventeen feet long.
A triptych, it consisted of a large central panel and two wings, one to each side, which could be folded shut. The upper register of seven panels represented heavenly redemption and included images of God, the Virgin Mary, and John the Baptist. They were flanked by panels of angels playing music and, on the far outermost, the naked figures of Adam and Eve. The central panel of the lower register showed a gathering of saints, clergy, and soldiers attendant at an adoration of the Lamb of God. Four other panels showed groupings of people from across the world, making their way to the celebration, all overseen by the dove of the Holy Spirit.