They turned off attraction row and headed down a quiet side street. She抎 walked here before too. The route led to the central train station. Ahead she spotted the neoclassical building for the old law courts. It sat directly adjacent to the river, a low wrought-iron fence the only barrier from a small parking lot down to the water. Her prioress led the way toward a vehicle that sat idling near the iron fence.
The doors opened and two women emerged.
Both dressed in jeans and shirts.
They approached.
揑t抯 good to meet you,?one of the women said. 揑抦 Sister Ellen. This is Sister Isabel. We are Maidens of Saint-Michael.?
No surprise really. As these women were the only ones with answers.
揥hat happened to your face??she asked Ellen.
揂n unexpected fall. It looks worse than it is.?
揝ister Kelsey,?her prioress said, 搕he maidens are here, in Ghent, performing a sacred duty.?
揇id that include the willful destruction of a national treasure??
揑t did,?Isabel said.
She was fascinated. 揥hy??
揝ister Deal,?Ellen said. 揥e would not have done such a grievous thing if it was not vitally important.?
揧ou抮e talking like terrorists.?
揟hey are anything but,?the prioress interjected.
揃elieve me,?Ellen said, 搘e regretted having to burn that panel. But there were good reasons for it.?
Kelsey shook her head. 揂 woman died.?
Ellen nodded. 揜achel. She was our friend.?
She saw the pain in both women抯 eyes, which eased her anxiety a bit.
揥hy not just come to me??she asked. 揈xplain the problem.?She pointed at her prioress. 揙r go to her, as you抮e doing now. Why all the subterfuge??
揥e had no choice,?Isabel said. 揘one at all.?
She stayed defiant. 揑 have high-resolution images of that entire panel. Burning it was useless.?
揥e are aware of that,?Isabel said. 揃ut your images are no longer an issue.?
揥hat is??
揗onsieur Lee.?
That raised red flags inside her. 揑s Nick all right??
He hadn抰 called her back since much earlier when she told him about summoning the police. Since then she抎 been consumed with her prioress and now with these two. She needed to talk to him.
Now.
揑 want my phone back,?she said to the prioress.
揑 can抰 do that.?
揟hen I抦 leaving.?
She turned.
Isabel lunged toward her, one arm wrapping her neck, the other bringing a cloth to her face. A sickly-sweet smell invaded her nostrils, reminiscent of cleaning day at the convent or a visit to the hospital.
Her head began to spin.
Isabel kept a firm hold. She tried to resist but her muscles would not react. The world winked in and out.
Then vanished.
Chapter 42
Claire was back in Belgium.
She抎 been driven north from the mountains to Toulouse and caught the only nonstop flight from there to Ghent. Normally, maidens shunned air travel, preferring car or train. Less expensive and less noticeable. But there were exceptions to that rule, especially when time was of the essence. Like here, over the past two days.
Nick Lee抯 offer to help retrieve Sister Rachel抯 body could not be refused. They desperately wanted to return her to the abbey for a burial befitting a maiden, especially one like Joan of Arc herself, who抎 made the ultimate sacrifice. She抎 been at a loss as to how that could be accomplished without risking even greater exposure, but their new ally had assured her he could make it happen. And, to fix this mess, she抎 accept help from wherever it might be offered.
She抎 taken a cab from the airport and caught up with Sisters Ellen and Isabel, directing them, on orders from the abbess, to take control of Sister Deal. While that happened, she would connect with Nick Lee. He抎 been told to wait for her in the Groentenmarkt which, long ago, had been Ghent抯 main vegetable market. A nineteenth-century water pump still filled its center, a high obelisk atop a square pedestal. Bordering the cobbled square were a variety of specialty shops selling things like high-end chocolate, sweet cuberdons, and tangy Tierentyn mustard. She was familiar with Oud Huis Himschoot, the oldest bakery, which produced some wonderful bread.
She抎 dressed in pants, a dark blouse, jacket, and comfortable shoes with laces. She抎 left the fleur-de-lys necklace off, nothing indicating that she was a maiden other than the tattoo on her left shoulder. The ability to blend in was one of the things that had long aided their effectiveness. But she could not help feeling a little exposed.
The cab dropped her near the square and she walked right over. She抎 been texted a picture of Nick Lee found on the internet, so it was easy to find him near the fountain.
揑抦 Sister Claire,?she said, introducing herself.