the wasabi, used chopsticks, and always kept a napkin at the ready. Just another reminder that they were polar opposites. The fact that he’d gone to Oxford, and she’d spent time in the foster care system after her junkie mother overdosed, meant they grew up in two different worlds.
No doubt, his highbrow education was the reason why Caedmon sometimes acted with a cerebral detachment. She tended to act on her intuition. Head and heart. She was still trying to figure out whether, together, they made a complete whole. As far as jobs went, though, she thoroughly enjoyed being Caedmon’s research assistant. Never a dull moment.
“I don’t mean to burst your Templar bubble, but the treasure may already have been discovered,” she said, pointing out the obvious.
“The evidence suggests that the treasure has not been found.”
“Really? And what evidence is that?”
Caedmon dabbed at his lip with his paper napkin before answering. “When the Spanish returned from the New World with their ships loaded with Indian gold, silver, and gemstones, the country suffered from massive inflation because of the sudden influx of capital on the Spanish markets. Had the Templar treasure been found, a similar thing would have happened. Since there’s no record of an unexplained capital influx in the European markets, we can safely assume the treasure has not been discovered.”
Edie stared at the digital voice recorder in plain view on top of the bronze platter. “Earlier today, Lovett presented a very fanciful theory. Unless he’s got a map with a big X marks the spot, listening to that thing is going to be a colossal waste of time.”
“Perhaps Dr. Lovett will flesh out his fanciful theory on the voice recorder,” Caedmon countered in a measured tone. “Besides, I have a morbid curiosity. Dead man talking from the grave and all that.”
“Speaking of which, Lovett was out-of-his-mind delirious right before he, um”—she searched for a tactful phrase—“passed over. I didn’t mention it earlier, but he kept repeating the words ‘ aqua sanctus .’ ”
“ Aqua sanctus . . . how curious. It’s Latin for ‘holy water.’ ” Caedmon reached for the digital voice recorder. “An overly anxious archaeologist babbling in a dead language. This should prove interesting.”
CHAPTER 14
The man behind the wheel of the leased Audi A6 braked to a full stop and cut the ignition. The burned-out streetlamp, suspended from an iron base adorned with paper flyers that gently flapped in the evening breeze, provided a dark pocket in the otherwise well-lit residential neighborhood.
Leaning across to the passenger seat, Saviour Panos opened a hard-sided case. From its depths, he removed a parabolic dish with microphone, a headset, and tape recorder. The same surveillance equipment he’d used to good effect with the archaeologist.
This night he had a different target, his beloved Mercurius anxious to ascertain how much Caedmon Aisquith knew about the massacre site and the Templar treasure.
Acting on a hunch that he’d find the Brit at the police precinct, Saviour had earlier followed the red-haired man from the police station to the row house situated on the other side of the street. To his surprise, the historian was still in the company of the curly-haired woman from the Masonic temple. Curious as to the nature of their relationship, he’d made inquiries of a middle-aged man walking a ridiculously shaved miniature poodle. The gossipy dog owner had been a fount, and Saviour learned that Edie Miller, a photographer by trade, was romantically involved with the British writer, the two having just returned from a trip to Ethiopia.
The information had been freely given. But of course. Beautiful people rarely came under suspicion. A defect in human nature that Saviour often exploited to his advantage.
Able to see two blurry shadows through the sheer fabric that hung at the window, Saviour aimed the parabolic dish in that
No doubt, his highbrow education was the reason why Caedmon sometimes acted with a cerebral detachment. She tended to act on her intuition. Head and heart. She was still trying to figure out whether, together, they made a complete whole. As far as jobs went, though, she thoroughly enjoyed being Caedmon’s research assistant. Never a dull moment.
“I don’t mean to burst your Templar bubble, but the treasure may already have been discovered,” she said, pointing out the obvious.
“The evidence suggests that the treasure has not been found.”
“Really? And what evidence is that?”
Caedmon dabbed at his lip with his paper napkin before answering. “When the Spanish returned from the New World with their ships loaded with Indian gold, silver, and gemstones, the country suffered from massive inflation because of the sudden influx of capital on the Spanish markets. Had the Templar treasure been found, a similar thing would have happened. Since there’s no record of an unexplained capital influx in the European markets, we can safely assume the treasure has not been discovered.”
Edie stared at the digital voice recorder in plain view on top of the bronze platter. “Earlier today, Lovett presented a very fanciful theory. Unless he’s got a map with a big X marks the spot, listening to that thing is going to be a colossal waste of time.”
“Perhaps Dr. Lovett will flesh out his fanciful theory on the voice recorder,” Caedmon countered in a measured tone. “Besides, I have a morbid curiosity. Dead man talking from the grave and all that.”
“Speaking of which, Lovett was out-of-his-mind delirious right before he, um”—she searched for a tactful phrase—“passed over. I didn’t mention it earlier, but he kept repeating the words ‘ aqua sanctus .’ ”
“ Aqua sanctus . . . how curious. It’s Latin for ‘holy water.’ ” Caedmon reached for the digital voice recorder. “An overly anxious archaeologist babbling in a dead language. This should prove interesting.”
CHAPTER 14
The man behind the wheel of the leased Audi A6 braked to a full stop and cut the ignition. The burned-out streetlamp, suspended from an iron base adorned with paper flyers that gently flapped in the evening breeze, provided a dark pocket in the otherwise well-lit residential neighborhood.
Leaning across to the passenger seat, Saviour Panos opened a hard-sided case. From its depths, he removed a parabolic dish with microphone, a headset, and tape recorder. The same surveillance equipment he’d used to good effect with the archaeologist.
This night he had a different target, his beloved Mercurius anxious to ascertain how much Caedmon Aisquith knew about the massacre site and the Templar treasure.
Acting on a hunch that he’d find the Brit at the police precinct, Saviour had earlier followed the red-haired man from the police station to the row house situated on the other side of the street. To his surprise, the historian was still in the company of the curly-haired woman from the Masonic temple. Curious as to the nature of their relationship, he’d made inquiries of a middle-aged man walking a ridiculously shaved miniature poodle. The gossipy dog owner had been a fount, and Saviour learned that Edie Miller, a photographer by trade, was romantically involved with the British writer, the two having just returned from a trip to Ethiopia.
The information had been freely given. But of course. Beautiful people rarely came under suspicion. A defect in human nature that Saviour often exploited to his advantage.
Able to see two blurry shadows through the sheer fabric that hung at the window, Saviour aimed the parabolic dish in that
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