The Cathari Treasure (Cameron Kincaid) (21 page)

The priest reached to open a
panel.

“Just hold on for a moment,”
said Cameron.

“You know,” said the priest,
“it’s not too late to work something out.”

“It’s not hey?”

“Not at all.  We have
access to quite substantial resources.  The million you requested for
example.”

“Yeah I wanted to ask you, what
denomination would that million be in?”

The priest grinned and then
said, “Any denomination you like.  Do you have a particular favorite?”

“I’d have to say that I am
tossed between dollars and euros.  Not long ago I would have said pounds,
but the economy.  It’s a tricky thing.”

The priest smirked.  He
knew that Cameron was playing with him.  “You are making a big mistake Mister
Kincaid.”

“And that’s another thing, you
keep calling me Mister Kincaid, not Cameron but Mister Kincaid.  How do
you even know who I am?”

“We were at your
restaurant.  Sadly, we underestimated you.  We were familiar with
your celebrity on the Food Network--.”

“You watch that?” asked Cameron.

“Doesn’t everybody.  We
thought you were, well, not a problem.  We did not anticipate this.” 
The priest flashed a glance to the P226.

“Yeah well, you think you know a
guy.”

Cameron’s earpiece
engaged.  “I’m in position,” said Pepe.  The priest was obviously
still unaware of the earpiece, as Pepe had taken him by surprise.

“Ok let’s go,” said Cameron.

The priest placed his hand on
the panel and lightly pressed.  Cameron heard a bolt slip and the panel
swung open.

* * *
* *

Quebec

 “You first,” said Cameron.

The priest stepped into the
booth and Cameron followed.  As the priest opened the outer door he said,
“You and your friend should really reconsider.”

“Should we now.  C’mon
let’s go.”

“You are signing your own death
warrant.”

The priest stepped out of the
confessional booth into the majesty of the cathedral.  Cameron followed
him.

“Keep walking,” said Cameron.
 He pushed the barrel of the P226 into the small of the priests back and
then brought the butt back close to his own waist, shielding the gun under his
jacket.  The cathedral looked no different in appearance than the first
time Cameron had walked through.  People peppered the pews here and there,
sunlight came in through the porticos, and that incense smell, almost
nauseating, hung heavy.  Pepe was nowhere to be seen, nor was anyone else
that looked odd or suspicious.  The priest led Cameron down the length of
the pew and into the center aisle.

“Almost there.  Let’s mosey
right out of here,” said Cameron.

The priest began to lead Cameron
down the aisle toward the entranceway of the cathedral.  Cameron noticed
the priest looking up to the balcony, looking for something or someone.

“Keep it moving,” said Cameron.

The priest suddenly stopped,
turned around to face Cameron, and then took a step backward.  “This is
your final chance.  There will be no place to hide.  I want her.”

From the balcony over Cameron’s
shoulder came a low groan, and then a sniper rifle fell to the floor followed by
a newly dead man.

“I don’t think you will find
her,” said Cameron.

The priest looked up to the
balcony to see Pepe.

Pepe held up an open palm to the
priest and bent his fingers in a wave, his thumb holding a bloody Opinel
penknife.

People began to stand and leave
the pews, some whispering to each other, some distressed, most just left
silently.

The priest’s face contorted and
he let out a growl “Kill them!”  The priest quickly slipped his hand into
his black jacket to grab a gun, only to be out drawn by Cameron.  However
fast the priest had thought and moved Cameron did not have the burden of
thinking to slow him down.  Cameron acted on pure instinct.  Cameron
dove across the aisle to get cover behind a pew, firing his P226 at the priest while
in motion.  Before the priest had even pulled his gun from the holster
beneath his jacket, Cameron’s P226 had placed a bullet between the priest’s
awestruck eyes.

Cameron was not quick enough for
another sniper that cracked off a shot at him during his dive for cover. 
A shot that was lucky for Cameron, unlucky for the sniper.  The sniper
missed his target, giving away his own position to Pepe.  Pepe identified,
targeted, and killed the sniper before he could get off a second shot.

At the door, an older man with
baggy shorts and an open guidebook froze as people exited around him.  The
man focused in the direction of Cameron, emotionless behind sunglasses. 
Baggy shorts saw Cameron lift his head from behind the pew, dropped the
guidebook, and pulled a Ruger from under his shirt.  Baggy fired two quick
rounds toward Cameron.  Cameron took a breath and then threw himself down
to the floor of the aisle, twisting as he did so that when he hit the floor he
was able to roll back on his shoulder, putting his gun in the general direction
on the baggy shorts man.  Cameron fired three rapid shots.  The top
of baggy short’s skull separated from his head above his sunglasses. 
Baggy shorts dropped to his knees and then fell forward dead.

Cameron sat up and got to his
knees.  P226 still in hand, he twisted left and right, sweeping the
room.  “Clear,” said Cameron.  In his earpiece Pepe replied, “Clear.”

“Than that’s that.  Let’s
move out.”

Cameron spun around to the body
of the dark priest behind him.  The priest lay dead on his stomach. 
Cameron rolled the body over and pulled open the priest’s jacket to check his
inside pockets.  Nothing.  He grabbed the lapel and rolled the body
back with a jerk.  The priest’s head thumped with a thud against the back
of a pew.  Cameron flipped the back of the jacket up and found what he was
looking for sheathed in the priest’s waistline, a Rex Mundi dagger.  He
transferred the dagger to his own waist.

“You’re building up a
collection, eh?” asked Pepe, already by Cameron’s side.  “I have two
souvenirs myself,” Pepe added, holding up two daggers.  In Pepe’s other
hand, he held an open backpack.  He dropped the daggers into the pack and
then swept the room one more time before unclipping the 552 from the harness
and adding the gun to the pack as well.

“Nice, let’s go,” said Cameron,
his P226 still in hand.

At the end of the aisle, they
stopped near the body of baggy shorts.  The body was stretched out, face
down, in a pool of blood and brains.

“Would you like this one?” asked
Cameron.  Pepe scowled and tilted his head curiously at the carnage and
then shrugged, “You can have it.  You made the mess after all.”

Cameron stepped to the side of
the torso.  He could see that nothing was tucked into the back of the dead
man, so he pushed the body over with his shoe.  When the body rolled,
lumps of brain oozed out of the gaping wound.

“Ewe,” said Pepe.

“Its nothing you haven’t seen
before,” said Cameron.

“True.”

“You remember that guard in
Ghana?  That was a mess.”  Cameron used his foot to slide the dead man’s
shirt up.  In the waistline of the corpse was the sheathed dagger Cameron
was looking for.

“That was different, his head
was sliced in half.  This one, with the sunglasses still on, is very
creepy to me.”

Cameron took a moment to look at
the ghastly face blindly staring back at the two of them.  He tucked his
P226 behind his back and said, “Yeah, he is creepy.”  Then in one motion,
Cameron reached down with a swing of his arm, snatched the dagger, and took a
step toward the door.

The people outside had already
fled or were consoling each other in confusion beyond the promenade.  None
took notice of Cameron or Pepe as they made their way out of the church, down
the steps, and into the small park across Rue Ste Felixine.

* * *
* *

Quebec

Cameron and Pepe approached the
bench where Nicole sat with her legs crossed, her face basking in the
sun.  Her eyes were closed and they thought she had not heard them as they
stepped in front of her.

With her eyes still closed,
Nicole spoke, “You have only helped the operatives to their next lives.”

“I feel better
anyway,” said Pepe.

“I have to agree,”
said Cameron.  “Much better.”

“There is no stopping Rex Mundi,
for this is his world,” Nicole brought her head down from basking in the sun
and then slowly opened her eyes, “and his operatives are everywhere.”

Nicole’s eyes were vacuous and
had she not spoke, Cameron and Pepe would have thought her in a trance. 
Her gaze locked passed them.  They turned toward each other and then out
into the park where Nicole had fixed her stare.

At a hot dog cart directly
across the clearing, a provincial police officer laughed at his partner for
spilling sauce on his white uniform.  The vendor, speaking quickly and
waving a fistful of napkins and a bottle of water, was not getting either of
the police officers’ attention.  Next to the hot dog stand, in front of
the park fountain, a thin white faced mime pushed his hands against the walls
of an invisible box, the top and sides closing in on him, while two young couples
watched his performance.  Off to the side of the clearing, a group of
college students were gathered on three blankets spread across the lawn for a
picnic.

“You are saying all of these
people are all operatives?” asked Pepe.

“No,” answered Cameron, “she is
saying he is.”

Behind the fountain, in
a tweed
cap, sunglasses, and t-shirt, stood a thin man
looking back in their direction, his open smile gaping and familiar.

“You know that man?” asked Pepe,
“Because he certainly seems to know you.”

“His name is Christophe,” said
Cameron.  He smiled back at Christophe, bowed his head, and then asked
Nicole, “How long has he been watching you?”

“Not long after you left. 
I pretended I did not know he was there,” said Nicole.

“Good girl.  Well, he knows
we know now,” said Cameron.

“Uh,” said Pepe, “so what are we
to do?”  He too smiled in Christophe’s direction.

“Well it’s his dumb luck those
two policemen are standing so close,” said Cameron.

“Or his misfortune,” said Pepe.

“His misfortune?” asked Nicole.

“Pepe’s right.  Christophe
can take no action anymore than we can.”

Pepe spoke in a low voice, eyes
still focused on Christophe, “Nicole dear, gather your things.  We need to
move quickly.”

Cameron added, “I don’t think he
has anyone left to call.”

“I don’t want to find
out.”  Pepe looked down at Nicole, “Now my dear, let’s go.”

Magazines were stacked beside
Nicole and a sketchpad was on her lap.  She had brought the magazines at
Cameron’s behest so that she could blend easier in the park.  The
sketchpad was added after Nicole had continually insisted that she needed her
mind to stay pure.  Now Nicole stood leaving everything except her bag on
the bench.

* * *
* *

Quebec

 “Ok, this way,” said
Cameron as he waved goodbye to Christophe, “as we discussed.”  Cameron led
the others down the sidewalk.  They had discussed an escape route in the
slim chance they would be pursued by the Rex Mundi or the police.  Though
neither of those things had happened, this third scenario was as applicable as
a reason to initiate the plan.

The three walked briskly through
the park without turning around to look back.

“Is he still following?” asked
Nicole as they neared the street.

“I’m sure of it,” said
Cameron.  “He would not be allowed to let you slip out of his hands a
second time.”

“I guess you are right,” said
Nicole.

“Stay between Pepe and myself,
it will be over soon.”

“Is there another way?  You
know I detest violence.”

Pepe answered for Cameron,
“There is no other way.
 
Ce
qui sera, sera.”

The three waited on the curb for
the light to change and then crossed the street.  Cameron led them down
the sidewalk to the corner where they turned, and then up the street passed a
jeweler and a café.  Between the café and the next building was a small
alley walkway, only wide enough for two.  The alley walkway led to a
parking lot behind the street side shops.