"No, thanks," Marten said for the second time. The man looked at Demi and smiled, then turned and walked off. Marten waited until he was out of earshot, then looked back to Demi, "Because-what?"

"Of her doctor."

"Stephenson?"

"Yes," Demi reached into her purse and took out a pen. "Let me show you." She pulled a paper napkin toward her, then carefully drew a simple diagram on it and pushed it across the table to Marten.

He exhaled loudly when he saw what it was. The same balled cross he had seen tattooed on Merriman Foxx's thumb, the same balled cross Caroline had described in her fearful description of the white-haired man.

"It is the sign of Aldebaran, the pale red star that forms the left eye in the constellation Taurus. In the early history of astrology it was considered to emanate a powerful and fortunate influence. It is also called 'Eye of God.'"

"What does it have to do with Dr. Stephenson?"

"She had it tattooed on her left thumb. It was small, you could barely see it."

Marten was incredulous. "Foxx has the same thing."

"I know. So does the woman, Cristina."

"What does the tattoo have to do with 'the witches'?"

"It's the sign of the coven to which my sister belonged."

"Foxx and Stephenson are witches?"

"I'm not sure. But my sister had the same tattoo. Why else would people so dissimilar have the sign of Aldebaran tattooed on their thumb, specifically the left thumb?"

"What led you to think Caroline was involved with them? I held her hands for a long time, I never saw that mark or any other."

"She was dying. Dr. Foxx had been nearby and Stephenson had been her doctor for some time. I don't know their rituals but I hoped she might have had some knowledge of it. If she was frightened she might have wanted to share it with someone she completely trusted, and quite frankly that seemed to be you. I had to find out."

"She never said a thing."

"Then I was wrong. Either that or it was a secret she took into eternity."

"Does Reverend Beck have the mark?"

"Have you ever looked at his hands?"

"He has a pigmentary skin disorder, vitiligo. The skin on his hands is blotched," Marten said, then he understood. "You mean that even if he had the mark it would be very difficult to see."

"Yes."

"So you don't know if he's a member of the coven."

"I think he's involved, but whether he's a member or not I don't know."

"Tell me about the coven itself. Is it some kind of cult? Satan worshipers? Religious extremists? Or with Foxx's background some sort of military group?"

"Does the name Nicolo Machiavelli mean anything to you?"

"You mean Machiavelli, the man."

"Yes."

"As I recall he was a sixteenth-century Florentine writer famous for a book called The Prince about the ways to gain and keep raw political power, where authority is everything and expediency is placed above any kind of morality. A sort of how-to book for becoming a dictator."

"Yes," Demi nodded appreciatively.

"What does Machiavelli have to do with the coven?"

"There is a story that on his deathbed he wrote an addendum to The Prince, a kind of secondary blueprint for gaining power. It was based on what he called a 'necessary prerequisite,' the creation of a secret society to be governed by the rule of complicity; a brotherhood of blood where members would participate in an act of ritual murder. It was to be an elaborate, carefully orchestrated human sacrifice held once a year at a remote and secured spot, a church preferably, or a temple, that would give the ceremony religious impact. The rules required every member to sign a heavily guarded, dated journal that included his name, place and date of birth; name and manner of death of the victim; and a print of his thumb dipped in his own blood and pressed in the journal alongside his signature. This was done to confirm his presence there, his allegiance to the society and his willing involvement in the killing. The journal was the key to the society's power because public exposure of it would mean ruin, even death, for them all. Once the murder was done, and the participants' presence recorded, the society could set forth its agenda for the year with the knowledge that what they did was wholly protected from treachery within, thereby freeing it to execute whatever plan was agreed upon.

"Those familiar with the story believe the addendum, if it existed, never reached its intended audience-Florentines oppressed by the ruling Medici family that Machiavelli hoped he could unite in blood to overthrow-and instead was smuggled to Rome where it fell into the hands of an already powerful and influential group who used it, and have continued to use it over the centuries, as an ideology to further their own ends. For those who follow such things, the addendum has come to be known as the Machiavelli Covenant."

"And you think that's what the Aldebaran coven is about, a present-day edition of the Covenant?"

"That, Mr. Marten, is what I have been trying to find out for a long time."

Abruptly something caught Marten's eye. He picked up his glass and sat back, casually scanning the room.

"What is it?"

"Get up as if you're mad at me, pick up your purse and walk out of the restaurant," Marten said quietly. "Go up the street, turn the corner, and wait."

"Why? What's going on?"

"Just do it. Now."

"Alright," deliberately Demi pushed back from the table, glared at Marten, then picked up her purse and left. He stared after her for a moment then signaled the waiter for the check. Purposely he took another sip of cava, then put the glass down and sat back. A moment later the waiter brought the check. Marten paid cash, then got up and walked out, passing without a glance the fortyish-looking tourist who had taken a table near them and was looking at a menu. A tourist with salt-and-pepper hair who now wore a dark-colored sport coat over his yellow polo shirt. If there was any doubt he had been handed off at the Barcelona airport, it was gone now.

• 3:40 P.M.

Marten stepped through the door and pulled on dark glasses against the glare of the sun, then walked quickly up the street. At the corner he glanced back toward the entrance to Els Quatre Gats. If Salt and Pepper was coming after him he hadn't done it yet. Another step and he was around the corner looking for Demi. The sidewalk was crowded and he didn't see her. For a moment he was afraid she might have gone off on her own, that she still didn't trust him and that he would have to find her and fight the same battle all over again. Then he saw her waiting beneath the overhang of a storefront.

"What is it?" she said as he reached her.

"A man with salt-and-pepper hair and a yellow polo shirt. I've been followed, and all the way from Valletta. It's got to be Foxx's doing but I can't be sure."

"You were followed."

"Yes."

"That means we've been seen together."

Marten could see the fire in her start to roar back. "You can dodge the whole thing by telling Beck straight off that I tracked you to Barcelona and insisted you talk to me. In the restaurant I asked you a bunch of crazy questions you knew nothing about and when I kept pushing you got mad and left."

"You're right, I did get mad and I am leaving," she said angrily and abruptly turned and started off into the crowd.

Marten caught up with her. She ignored him.

"Whether you like it or not we're in this together. You want to know what happened to your sister and I want to know what happened to Caroline Parsons." He glanced around and then lowered his voice, "Dr. Foxx seems to be key in both situations."

Still she ignored him, just kept walking.

Marten stayed in stride. "If Foxx is here and Reverend Beck is meeting him-where and when, that's all I want to know. Other than that I'll stay out of your hair, I promise."