place here anymore. You left us behind, remember?”
The look of pain on her face silenced him. She had also lost someone back then. But times were always hard here and she had left to find pieces of a family she didn’t even know.
“There were reasons,” she said. “I didn’t know how to continue here any longer, after my father died and with Elian gone. There was nothing to stay for.”
Lior gave a harsh laugh.
“You had friends who loved you.”
“Loved?”
“Enough,” Lior brushed aside her question. “I need to know about Ezra. What happened?”
Morgan explained why Dinah had called her, what they had seen in Abraham’s room, the fire and its aftermath.
“I’m sure the orderly set the fire and that he attacked Di,” she explained. “There’s something else going on, something that caused those suicides and now someone is trying to cover it up. I think there’s a bigger plan here and we’re only seeing a small part of it.”
“And you think it could be this Thanatos organization, with a plan to resurrect religious extremism? It sounds a bit far fetched. Ezra counts for nothing in the world. It’s a tiny hospital with no global reach. What interest would this organization have in such a place?”
Morgan took a deep breath. Lior could almost see her thinking.
“It’s bigger than Ezra. You must have a team on the suicide at the Western Wall. This could help solve it.”
“You’re right,” Lior nodded. “That’s a PR disaster. How he got up there past the guards is one question. Then there are claims he was shot by the Muslim guards from the Dome of the Rock, and of course, the prophecy has been leaked.”
“What prophecy?” Morgan asked, her handcuffs chinking with her agitation.
“You didn’t hear the details? He was clutching the prophecy from Revelation, that a quarter of the world would die by sword, famine, plague. You know the one, you’re the expert in all that religious stuff.”
Morgan’s face had gone pale.
“What is it?” Lior asked, concerned about her.
“It can’t be … but it must be.”
“What? You need to share this information. I want to help you, Morgan, but you’re not helping yourself.”
“It is Thanatos; the pale horse proves it. I’m sorry, Lior, but I need you to call someone for me. You’re not going to like it but they’re going to get me out of here.”
Capela dos Ossos, Evora, Portugal. 11.38pm
The streets of Evora in southern Portugal were quiet as Natasha El-Behery stepped out of the midnight blue Mercedes Benz SLS AMG Coupé. She breathed in the cool air, thankful for the darkness after the heat of the summer day. Franco and Ivan pulled up behind her in their more functional sedan and she walked to their car, turquoise rings flashing as she smoothed back her copper curls. She looked towards the church of St Francis and then bent to the window.
“Stay behind in the shadows,” she said. “I’ll try to get the book the easy way but be ready on my word.” The men nodded. Natasha smiled, bestowing on them a flash of her favor. Like the winter sun, it was swift and brilliant, but quickly turned to a freeze.
Her heels clicked as she walked down the path towards the church, pencil slim skirt hugging her shapely legs. She knew the designer outfit was hardly suitable for a Franciscan church, but she found that her appearance made the men she sought underestimate her. She wore long sleeves in all weathers, covering scars she preferred to keep hidden from prying eyes that might question her sanity, but she knew that pain kept her on the edge of what could be achieved. Without pain, there was no victory, she thought. She touched the newest scar, one she had cut in front of Milan to demonstrate her dedication to finding the book he sought. He had watched her cut deeply and then had licked her flesh clean of blood, before taking her with slow thrusts that seemed to match the beat of her heart.
She had
The look of pain on her face silenced him. She had also lost someone back then. But times were always hard here and she had left to find pieces of a family she didn’t even know.
“There were reasons,” she said. “I didn’t know how to continue here any longer, after my father died and with Elian gone. There was nothing to stay for.”
Lior gave a harsh laugh.
“You had friends who loved you.”
“Loved?”
“Enough,” Lior brushed aside her question. “I need to know about Ezra. What happened?”
Morgan explained why Dinah had called her, what they had seen in Abraham’s room, the fire and its aftermath.
“I’m sure the orderly set the fire and that he attacked Di,” she explained. “There’s something else going on, something that caused those suicides and now someone is trying to cover it up. I think there’s a bigger plan here and we’re only seeing a small part of it.”
“And you think it could be this Thanatos organization, with a plan to resurrect religious extremism? It sounds a bit far fetched. Ezra counts for nothing in the world. It’s a tiny hospital with no global reach. What interest would this organization have in such a place?”
Morgan took a deep breath. Lior could almost see her thinking.
“It’s bigger than Ezra. You must have a team on the suicide at the Western Wall. This could help solve it.”
“You’re right,” Lior nodded. “That’s a PR disaster. How he got up there past the guards is one question. Then there are claims he was shot by the Muslim guards from the Dome of the Rock, and of course, the prophecy has been leaked.”
“What prophecy?” Morgan asked, her handcuffs chinking with her agitation.
“You didn’t hear the details? He was clutching the prophecy from Revelation, that a quarter of the world would die by sword, famine, plague. You know the one, you’re the expert in all that religious stuff.”
Morgan’s face had gone pale.
“What is it?” Lior asked, concerned about her.
“It can’t be … but it must be.”
“What? You need to share this information. I want to help you, Morgan, but you’re not helping yourself.”
“It is Thanatos; the pale horse proves it. I’m sorry, Lior, but I need you to call someone for me. You’re not going to like it but they’re going to get me out of here.”
Capela dos Ossos, Evora, Portugal. 11.38pm
The streets of Evora in southern Portugal were quiet as Natasha El-Behery stepped out of the midnight blue Mercedes Benz SLS AMG Coupé. She breathed in the cool air, thankful for the darkness after the heat of the summer day. Franco and Ivan pulled up behind her in their more functional sedan and she walked to their car, turquoise rings flashing as she smoothed back her copper curls. She looked towards the church of St Francis and then bent to the window.
“Stay behind in the shadows,” she said. “I’ll try to get the book the easy way but be ready on my word.” The men nodded. Natasha smiled, bestowing on them a flash of her favor. Like the winter sun, it was swift and brilliant, but quickly turned to a freeze.
Her heels clicked as she walked down the path towards the church, pencil slim skirt hugging her shapely legs. She knew the designer outfit was hardly suitable for a Franciscan church, but she found that her appearance made the men she sought underestimate her. She wore long sleeves in all weathers, covering scars she preferred to keep hidden from prying eyes that might question her sanity, but she knew that pain kept her on the edge of what could be achieved. Without pain, there was no victory, she thought. She touched the newest scar, one she had cut in front of Milan to demonstrate her dedication to finding the book he sought. He had watched her cut deeply and then had licked her flesh clean of blood, before taking her with slow thrusts that seemed to match the beat of her heart.
She had
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