veterans. These were the
Special Forces men chosen for the most dangerous operations. In
terms of our elite soldiers, they were the cream of the
cream.’
Vernon couldn’t think of a single
plausible idea why America’s top soldiers would go AWOL.
‘ It’s time to see if
these guys want to talk.’ Gresnick picked up the remote control
again and pressed a button.
On the LCD TV, a live feed appeared of
the prisoners in their adjoining cells. The cell walls were made of
reinforced glass to allow unobstructed 24/7 observation. It was
possible to see both men from one camera. Sergeant Morson had been
made to sit in a position giving him a clear view of his superior
in the adjacent cell; a tactic, Vernon assumed, designed to make
the sergeant anxious and more talkative, but Morson wasn’t showing
any signs of distress. His expression mixed arrogance with
satisfaction. Vernon was nonplussed. Why did Morson seem so pleased
with himself when his captain was likely to die at any moment?
Gresnick drew his microphone towards
him and coughed a couple of times.
Vernon noticed how neatly Gresnick’s
cufflinks were arranged, how straight and pristine his tie was. He
was obviously the sort who spent a lot of time getting everything
just so.
‘ What is this object,
Sergeant Morson?’ Gresnick held up the emerald globe, pointing it
towards the overhead camera.
Morson peered at it on the monitor that
had been set up in his cell to allow easy, two-way communication. ‘Isn’t it a paperweight?’
‘ So, you wouldn’t mind
if I smashed it on the floor?’
‘ Do whatever you
like.’
If Gresnick believed the object held
some great significance for Morson and his colleague, he’d received
no encouragement. ‘Why did you and your men carry out seven raids?’ he asked. ‘What did you want with religious relics?’
Morson didn’t answer.
‘ Why were you examining
microfiche of ancient manuscripts in the British
Library?’
This time, Morson smiled, but still
didn’t speak.
‘ Why did the natural
disasters start straight after your seven raids?’
‘ You have no idea, do
you? The kingdom of the blind, and no one-eyed man in sight,’
Morson said without warning.
‘ What do you want with
this woman?’ Gresnick lifted up Lucy’s picture.
‘ He knows.’ Morson pointed at Vernon.
Vernon shrugged. He’d had to read the
DIA file to find out what had happened to Lucy since their
break-up. After her mother died, her father committed suicide
several months later. At the same time, Lucy’s professional
reputation was ruined when her theories about the Grail were
ridiculed as speculative, unacademic nonsense. ‘This poor woman is
clearly losing her mind,’ one of her critics said, before literally
being proved right. The whole world was going nuts, Vernon thought,
but Lucy got there before everyone else.
‘ You’ve gone to a lot
of trouble,’ Gresnick said to Morson. ‘She must be very
special.’
Morson grinned.
‘ Why her? She can’t
possibly help you, or be a threat to you. She’s been diagnosed as
suffering from acute post-traumatic stress disorder, leading to
Dissociative Identity Disorder. If she were going to harm anyone,
it would be herself.’
‘ You know nothing,’
Morson snapped. ‘That woman…’
‘ Yes?’
‘ She’s the most
important person in the world.’
9
C ardinal
Sinclair was tall, probably in his early fifties, with silver hair,
a weather-beaten face and grey eyes.
‘ I’m not here to harm
you,’ he said. ‘Our enemies always exaggerated our reputation for
torture.’
Lucy, sitting up in her bed, was amazed
by the cardinal’s physical likeness to her father. Maybe her brain
was deceiving her again, projecting her own desires. In her black
pyjamas, she was a good match for the cardinal.
Dressed in black with a white dog
collar, like an ordinary priest, Sinclair wore nothing to suggest
he was the second most powerful man in the Catholic Church, the
Vatican’s
Special Forces men chosen for the most dangerous operations. In
terms of our elite soldiers, they were the cream of the
cream.’
Vernon couldn’t think of a single
plausible idea why America’s top soldiers would go AWOL.
‘ It’s time to see if
these guys want to talk.’ Gresnick picked up the remote control
again and pressed a button.
On the LCD TV, a live feed appeared of
the prisoners in their adjoining cells. The cell walls were made of
reinforced glass to allow unobstructed 24/7 observation. It was
possible to see both men from one camera. Sergeant Morson had been
made to sit in a position giving him a clear view of his superior
in the adjacent cell; a tactic, Vernon assumed, designed to make
the sergeant anxious and more talkative, but Morson wasn’t showing
any signs of distress. His expression mixed arrogance with
satisfaction. Vernon was nonplussed. Why did Morson seem so pleased
with himself when his captain was likely to die at any moment?
Gresnick drew his microphone towards
him and coughed a couple of times.
Vernon noticed how neatly Gresnick’s
cufflinks were arranged, how straight and pristine his tie was. He
was obviously the sort who spent a lot of time getting everything
just so.
‘ What is this object,
Sergeant Morson?’ Gresnick held up the emerald globe, pointing it
towards the overhead camera.
Morson peered at it on the monitor that
had been set up in his cell to allow easy, two-way communication. ‘Isn’t it a paperweight?’
‘ So, you wouldn’t mind
if I smashed it on the floor?’
‘ Do whatever you
like.’
If Gresnick believed the object held
some great significance for Morson and his colleague, he’d received
no encouragement. ‘Why did you and your men carry out seven raids?’ he asked. ‘What did you want with religious relics?’
Morson didn’t answer.
‘ Why were you examining
microfiche of ancient manuscripts in the British
Library?’
This time, Morson smiled, but still
didn’t speak.
‘ Why did the natural
disasters start straight after your seven raids?’
‘ You have no idea, do
you? The kingdom of the blind, and no one-eyed man in sight,’
Morson said without warning.
‘ What do you want with
this woman?’ Gresnick lifted up Lucy’s picture.
‘ He knows.’ Morson pointed at Vernon.
Vernon shrugged. He’d had to read the
DIA file to find out what had happened to Lucy since their
break-up. After her mother died, her father committed suicide
several months later. At the same time, Lucy’s professional
reputation was ruined when her theories about the Grail were
ridiculed as speculative, unacademic nonsense. ‘This poor woman is
clearly losing her mind,’ one of her critics said, before literally
being proved right. The whole world was going nuts, Vernon thought,
but Lucy got there before everyone else.
‘ You’ve gone to a lot
of trouble,’ Gresnick said to Morson. ‘She must be very
special.’
Morson grinned.
‘ Why her? She can’t
possibly help you, or be a threat to you. She’s been diagnosed as
suffering from acute post-traumatic stress disorder, leading to
Dissociative Identity Disorder. If she were going to harm anyone,
it would be herself.’
‘ You know nothing,’
Morson snapped. ‘That woman…’
‘ Yes?’
‘ She’s the most
important person in the world.’
9
C ardinal
Sinclair was tall, probably in his early fifties, with silver hair,
a weather-beaten face and grey eyes.
‘ I’m not here to harm
you,’ he said. ‘Our enemies always exaggerated our reputation for
torture.’
Lucy, sitting up in her bed, was amazed
by the cardinal’s physical likeness to her father. Maybe her brain
was deceiving her again, projecting her own desires. In her black
pyjamas, she was a good match for the cardinal.
Dressed in black with a white dog
collar, like an ordinary priest, Sinclair wore nothing to suggest
he was the second most powerful man in the Catholic Church, the
Vatican’s
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