“How did you get down here?” she asked.
He pointed above. “Through the front door.”
“Are you still working for the Americans?” she asked. “Thorvaldsen did tell me about you.”
“I’m working for me.” He motioned around him. “I came for this.”
“You don’t strike me as a treasure hunter.”
He sat atop one of the chests and rested nerves dulled by insomnia and its unfortunate companion, despondency. “That’s where you’re wrong. I love treasure. Who wouldn’t? I especially enjoy denying it to worthless pieces of crap like you.”
She laughed off his touch of drama. “I’d say you’re the one who’s going to be denied.”
He shook his head. “Your game is over. No more Paris Club. No more financial manipulation. No treasure.”
“I can’t imagine that is the case.”
He ignored her. “Unfortunately, there are no witnesses left alive, and precious little other evidence, to actually try you for a crime. So take this talk as your one and only get-out-of-jail-free card.”
Larocque smiled at his ridicule. “Are you always so gregarious in the face of your own death?”
He shrugged. “I’m a carefree kind of guy.”
“Do you believe in fate, Mr. Malone?” she asked.
He shrugged. “Not really.”
“I do. In fact, I govern my life by fate. My family has done the same for centuries. When I learned that Ashby was dead, I consulted an oracle I possess, and asked a simple question.
Will my name be immortalized and will posterity applaud it?
Would you like to hear the answer I was given?”
He humored her. “Sure.”
“A good-humored mate will be a treasure, which thine eyes will delight to look upon.”
She paused. “The next day I found this.”
And she motioned at the lighted cavern.
He’d had enough.
He raised his right arm, pointed his index finger downward, and twirled, signaling Larocque should turn around.
She caught his message and stole a glance over her right shoulder. Behind her stood Stephanie Nelle and Sam Collins.
Both held guns.
“Did I mention that I didn’t come alone?” Malone said. “They waited until you arrived to come down.”
Larocque faced him. Anger in her eyes confirmed what he already knew. So he said what she was surely thinking, “Delight to look upon it, madame, because that’s all you get.”
Sam relieved Ambrosi of his gun. No resistance was offered.
“And I’d keep it that way,” Malone said to Ambrosi. “Sam there got dinged with a bullet. Hurt like hell, but he’s okay. He’s the one who shot Peter Lyon. His first kill. I told him the second would be a whole lot easier.”
Ambrosi said nothing.
“He also watched Henrik Thorvaldsen die. He’s still in a piss-poor mood. So am I, and Stephanie. We’d all three just as soon shoot you both dead. Lucky for you, we aren’t murderers. Too bad neither of you can say the same.”
“I’ve killed no one,” Larocque said.
“No, you just encourage others to do it and profit from the acts.” He stood. “Now get the hell out.”
Larocque stood her ground. “What will happen to this?”
He cleared his throat of emotion. “That’s not for me or you to decide.”
“You realize this is my family’s birthright. My ancestor was instrumental in destroying Napoleon. He searched for this treasure until the day he died.”
“I told you to get out.”
He’d like to think this was how Thorvaldsen would have handled the matter, and the thought provided a small measure of comfort.
Larocque seemed to accept his rebuke with the knowledge that she had little bargaining power. So she motioned for Ambrosi to lead the way. Stephanie and Sam stepped aside and allowed them both to leave.
At the doorway, Larocque hesitated, then turned toward Malone. “Perhaps our paths will cross again.”
“Wouldn’t that be fun.”
“Know that that encounter will be quite different from today’s.”
And she left.
“She’s trouble,” Stephanie said.
“I assume you have people out there?”
Stephanie nodded. “The French police will escort them out of the tunnel and seal it off.”
He realized it was over. Finally. The past three weeks had been some of the most horrific of his life.
He needed a rest.
“I understand you have a new career,” he said to Sam.
The younger man nodded. “I’m now officially working for the Magellan Billet, as an agent. I hear I have you to thank for that.”
“You have yourself to thank. Henrik would be proud.”
“I hope so.” Sam motioned at the chests. “What
is
going to happen with all this treasure?”
“The French get it,” Stephanie said. “No way to know where it came from. Here it sits, in their soil, so it’s theirs. Besides, they say it’s compensation for all the property damage Cotton inflicted.”
Malone wasn’t really listening. Instead he kept his attention on the doorway. Eliza Larocque had sheathed her parting threat in a warm cloak of politeness—a calm declaration that if their paths ever crossed again, things would be different. But he’d been threatened before. Besides, Larocque was partly responsible both for Henrik’s death and for the guilt that he feared would forever swirl inside him. He owed her, and he always paid his debts.
“You okay about Lyon?” he asked Sam.
The younger man nodded. “I still see his head exploding, but I can live with it.”
“Don’t ever let it get easy. Killing is serious business, even if they deserve it.”
“You sound like somebody else I once knew.”
“He a smart fellow, too?”
“More so than I ever realized, until lately.”
“You were right, Sam,” he said. “The Paris Club. Those conspiracies. At least a few of them were real.”
“As I recall, you thought I was a nut.”
He chuckled. “Half the people I meet think I’m one, too.”
“Meagan Morrison made sure I knew she was right,” Stephanie said. “She’s a handful.”
“You going to see her again?” Malone asked Sam.
“Who says I’m interested?”
“I heard it in her voice when she left the message on my phone. She went back in there for you. And I saw how you looked at her after Henrik’s funeral. You’re interested.”
“I don’t know. I might. You have any advice on that one?”
He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Women are not my strong point.”
“You can say that again,” Stephanie added. “You throw ex-wives out of planes.”
He smiled.
“We need to go,” Stephanie said. “The French want control of this.”
They headed for the exit.
“Something’s been bothering me,” Malone said to Sam. “Stephanie told me that you were raised in New Zealand, but you don’t talk like a Kiwi. Why’s that?”
Sam smiled. “Long story.”
Exactly what he’d said yesterday when Sam had asked about the name Cotton. The same two words he’d told Henrik the several times when his friend had inquired, always promising to explain later.
But, sadly, there’d be no more laters.
He liked Sam Collins. He was a lot like himself fifteen years ago, just about the time when he’d started with the Magellan Billet. Now Sam was a full-fledged agent—about to face all of the incalculable risks associated with that dangerous job.
Any day could easily be his last.
“How about this,” Sam said. “I’ll tell you, if you tell me.”
“Deal.”
WRITER’S NOTE
This novel took me first to France, then to London. For several days Elizabeth and I roamed Paris, scouting every location that appears in the novel. I wasn’t particularly fond of being underground, and she disliked the height of the Eiffel Tower. Our various neuroses aside, we managed to discover all that we went there to find. As with those of my previous seven novels, this plot involved concocting, combining, correcting, and condensing a number of seemingly unrelated elements.
Now it’s time to draw the line between fact and fiction.
General Napoleon Bonaparte did indeed conquer Egypt in 1799, and ruled that land while he awaited the right moment to return to France and claim absolute power. He certainly saw the pyramids, but there is no evidence that he ever ventured inside. A story exists that he entered the Great Pyramid at Giza and emerged shaken, but no reputable historian has ever verified that account. The notion, though, seemed intriguing, so I couldn’t resist including my own version in the prologue. As to what happened inside with a mysterious seer (
chapter 37
), that was all my concoction. Napoleon’s
savants
, though, did exist, and together they unearthed an ancient civilization heretofore unknown, creating the science of Egyptology.
Corsica seems a fascinating place, though I wasn’t able to actually visit. Bastia (chapters 2 and 14) is described as correctly as photographs would allow. Cap Corse and its ancient watchtowers and convents are also faithfully rendered. Rommel’s gold is an actual treasure lost from World War II, with a Corsican connection, as described in
chapter 6
. The only addition I made was the fifth participant and clues left inside a 19th century book about Napoleon. The actual treasure remains, to this day, unfound.
The Moor’s Knot described in chapters 6, 12, and 39 is mine, though the coding technique came from
The Chalice of Magdalene
, by Graham Phillips, a book about the Holy Grail. I also was directed to Psalms, and the use of its many verses as clues (
chapter 77
) by that same book. The particular portions I chose are correctly quoted and proved uncanny in their applicability.
There is a Paris Club, as described in
chapter 4
. It is a well-intentioned organization, staffed by some of the world’s wealthiest countries, designed to help emerging nations restructure their debt. Eliza Larocque’s Paris Club bears no relation. Likewise, her club’s historical connection to Napoleon is purely fictitious.
The incident in Egypt, with Napoleon witnessing the murder of a mother and her infant (
chapter 4
), happened, but Napoleon found no papyri that day. Those are my invention.
All that’s related about the Rothschilds (chapters 5 and 24) is a matter of historical record. They did indeed finance royalty, governments, and wars, profiting immensely from all sides.
Louis Etienne Saint-Denis (
chapter 16
) faithfully served Napoleon. He went into exile with his master on both Elba and St. Helena and penned all of Napoleon’s writings (
chapter 40
). Napoleon bequeathed to Saint-Denis 400 books from his personal library (
chapters 16
,
17
, and
25
) and charged him with holding those books until Napoleon’s son attained the age of sixteen. The addition of one particular volume on the Merovingians—supposedly named in the will—is mine, as is the manner in which Saint-Denis ultimately disposed of that collection (
chapter 16
).
Paris is accurately described throughout (starting with
chapter 18
), as is Shakespeare & Company, which stands on the Left Bank, facing Notre Dame.
The Creature from Jekyll Island: A Second Look at the Federal Reserve
, by G. Edward Griffin, proved helpful in formulating Sam Collins’ and Meagan Morrison’s views on conspiratorial economics. That book also pointed me toward Executive Order 11110 (
chapter 24
), issued by President Kennedy shortly before his assassination.
Westminster Abbey in London, along with its Poets’ Corner (
chapter 19
), are fascinating. Jack the Ripper tours (
chapter 43
) occur on London’s east side nightly (I enjoyed one myself).
France’s Loire Valley is magnificent (
chapter 20
). Eliza Larocque’s château is my creation, though I modeled it after the fabled Chenonceau, which also spans the river Cher. Paris’ Latin Quarter (
chapter 23
) bristles with life twenty-four hours a day and is accurately captured, as is the Cluny Museum (first seen in
chapter 26
) with its vast array of medieval exhibits (
chapter 28
). The Invalides and its Church of the Dome (
chapter 36
) are both Paris landmarks. Napoleon’s sarcophagus (
chapter 36
) is certainly grandiose. The part of the military museum at the Invalides devoted to Napoleon was undergoing renovation while I was there, so I incorporated that into the story (
chapter 38
). Only the addition of the book on the Merovingians (chapters 36 and 38) is fiction. The Ritz hotel, its Bar Hemingway (
chapter 33
), and Le Grand Véfour restaurant (
chapter 37
) are all there. Meagan Morrison’s fascination with the Paris underground (
chapter 44
) mirrors my own with those subterranean passages.
Pozzo di Borgo (chapters 20, 23, and 35) lived. He was, first, Napoleon’s childhood friend, then his sworn enemy. Di Borgo’s life and Corsican
vendetta
are accurately described. He was instrumental in convincing Tsar Alexander not to make a separate peace with France, which ultimately led Napoleon down his road to ruin. Di Borgo’s interest in any lost treasure, and his family connection with Eliza Larocque, are purely my invention.
Abbé Buonavita (
chapters 25
and
46
) was on St. Helena with Napoleon and left shortly before the emperor died. He was permitted to take with him several personal letters for Napoleon’s wife and child. The addition of secret messages within those letters is my creation. The visit to St. Helena in 1840 by Prince de Joinville, to retrieve Napoleon’s remains and return them to France, happened as described (
chapter 37
). Those present, and their comments, are likewise accurately quoted.
The Eiffel Tower plays an integral role in this story. Like Sam, Stephanie, and Meagan, I climbed its several hundred metal stairs to the first and second platforms (
chapter 39
). The tower’s sites and geography, including La Salle Gustav Eiffel (chapters 39, 48, and 49), all exist. And the surprising effect a kiss-like-you-mean-it has on human life expectancy (
chapter 44
) is real, as is the study Meagan Morrison refers to.
The 14 lines containing coded information in the form of raised letters (chapters 39 and 47) are from the legend associated with Rennes-le-Château, which I explored in my novel
The Templar Legacy
. While researching that story, I came across these two legendary parchments. Since no one has ever actually seen those documents, and since their secret message
—To King Dagobert II and to Sion belongs the treasure and he is there dead—
applied to this story, I appropriated them. The only modification made was the elimination of the designation
II
. Dagobert I was a great Merovingian king, and his 13th century funerary monument stands in the Basilica of Saint-Denis (
chapter 61
). Napoleon was indeed fascinated with Merovingians (
chapter 33
). With all of these seemingly unrelated facts suddenly bumping up against each other, a marriage seemed in order. Hopefully, Rennes-le-Château purists will forgive me.
The Basilica of Saint-Denis is a French national treasure. Given its location north of central Paris, few tourists venture there, which is a shame. They are missing something even more awe inspiring than Notre Dame. Chapters
67–77
accurately describe the church, including construction that was ongoing during my visit. Only the olive tree marker and tunnel beneath (chapter
77)
are my additions.
The congressional legislation noted in chapters 51 and 52, known as The Financial Service Modernization (Gramm-Leach-Bliley) Act and the Commodity Futures Modernization Act, adopted in 1999 and 2000 respectively, are real and most experts now say that these disastrous attempts at deregulation contributed greatly to the economic meltdown of 2008.
60 Minutes
featured an entire segment on their effect.
The idea that Osama bin Laden may have profited from the 9/11 attacks through short selling stocks has, for years, been postulated by conspiratorialists. There was actually an American investigation, and the French article mentioned in
chapter 52
was published, but no short selling was ever substantiated.
The idea that profit can be made through chaos (
chapter 52
) is not new. What’s described in
chapter 24
about Yugoslavia occurred. The political wisdom contained within the four papyri (
chapters 27
,
29
, and
40
) were adapted from
The Report from Iron Mountain
. According to that document, a 15-member panel, called the Special Study Group, was set up in 1963 to examine what problems would occur if the United States entered a state of lasting peace. They met at an underground nuclear bunker called Iron Mountain and worked in secret for two years. One member of the panel, an anonymous professor at a college in the Midwest, decided to release the report to the public and Dial Press published it in 1967.
Of course, only the part about Dial Press is true. The book was published and became a bestseller. The general consensus is that the entire report was a hoax. In fact,
The Guinness Book of World Records
eventually labeled
The Report from Iron Mountain
as its Most Successful Literary Hoax. Still, the ideas presented within the “report” about war, peace, and maintaining political stability are, if nothing else, intriguing. The idea that society will allow in a time of threat that which it would never tolerate in peace is particularly relevant today.
The oracle relied on by Eliza Larocque is real.
The Book of Fate, Formerly in the Possession of and Used by Napoleon
is still in print. All of the questions and answers quoted in chapters 8, 10, 29, and
67
are taken from the actual oracle. The oracle’s dubious history (
chapter 8
) is one of contradiction. Napoleon was highly superstitious and fate played a role in his decisions (
chapter 10
), but did he consult an oracle every day? No one knows. The idea, though, is captivating.
It is true, as Eliza Larocque noted, that save for Jesus Christ, more books have been written about Napoleon than any other historical figure, yet he remains enigmatic. He was, on the one hand, a capable and competent administrator, and on the other (as Eliza Larocque laments in
chapter 35
) a man with no loyalty, who consistently turned on his family, friends, and country. His hatred of financiers, and of incurring debt, is a historical fact (
chapter 16
). He also believed in plunder. In that regard, he was truly a modern Merovingian. Of course, he would say that his plundered loot was simply the spoils of war, and perhaps he’s right. Whether he actually hoarded away some of those spoils for himself—Napoleon’s cache, which plays such a central role in this story—remains a matter of debate.
No one knows. Nor will we ever.
Instead, Napoleon will continue to be studied and debated. Every volume that proclaims him a saint will be followed by another that decries him as a devil.
Perhaps, in the end, he said it best.
For all the attempts to restrict, suppress, and muffle me, it will be difficult to make me disappear from the public memory completely
.