This part Harris understood. Marten was trying find a public place where Merriman Foxx might meet him and then a place not far off where they could get him alone.

"I think, yes," Miguel kept his eyes on the road. "It's in the back, near the door where they bring in the supplies."

Marten perked. "A door that leads outside?"

"Yes, sir."

"This door, is it near any of the thousand and one pathways you mentioned? Say if we wanted to take a walk after lunch."

"Right you are, sir," Miguel beamed, his Australian accent and his years there creeping through, clearly enjoying the part of helpful host. "One way goes down to the loading dock, the other up the hill and into the mountain trails. In fact one of the old ruined chapels is right up the trail from it."

"You paint a wonderful picture, Miguel."

"It's my job, sir. Besides, Montserrat is wonderful. At least for the first fifty visits or so."

Marten smiled, then clicked off the intercom and looked to the president. "Before, I suggested the way to get answers from Foxx depended on where and under what circumstances the questions were put to him. If we play it right and we're lucky we can get him up that path to the chapel alone. After that it might have to get physical."

"Go on."

"We get to Montserrat and let Demi find us. When she does I'll arrange to meet Foxx and suggest the restaurant. If he agrees, the two of us will come in and find a table near the back. Meantime you're already there, at a table near the door to the rear pathway. You've got your big hat on, you're drinking something and have your head down, maybe reading a newspaper. He doesn't even look at you. Or if he does he has no idea who you are. Hopefully no one else does either.

"Foxx and I sit down, look at the menu, talk about nothing for a few minutes. Then I tell him I'm not comfortable having a serious exchange in public and suggest we go for a walk alone outside. The door's there, probably with an exit sign. I ask the waiter where it goes. He tells me. I ask Foxx if it's okay with him. Even if he's got people with him he'll agree because he wants to know what I know. We get up and go out the door. Thirty seconds later you follow. By then we should be up the path and nearing the chapel."

"You think he'll go? Just like that?"

"I told you, he wants to know about me and will have no reason to suspect anything. Montserrat is his call not mine. If he's nervous I'll tell him he can frisk me, I have nothing to hide."

The president studied Marten carefully. "Alright, so everything works and you're alone on the path with him and near the chapel."

"We see you coming up the trail behind us. I suggest we go inside, have our talk in there in case more people come."

"What if he doesn't want to go? I told you before, he's been a professional soldier most of his life. He's tough and wary-he's not going to do something he doesn't want to."

"This time he will."

"How do you know?"

"He won't have a choice."

Again the president studied him, was ready to ask what he meant and then decided not to push it. "Then what?"

"You used to work on a farm, didn't you?"

The president nodded.

"Ever try to hold down a reluctant pig or calf while the vet gave it a shot?"

"Yes."

"Were you able to do it?"

"Yes."

"Well, it'll be sort of the same thing here. And it's going to take two of us, the vet and the handler. I'm afraid you're going to have to get your hands a little bit dirty."

"I have no trouble with the manual-labor part, not in this situation." The president cocked his head. "I just don't get what you mean to do. We have no access to drugs or hypodermic syringes. Even if we did there's no time to-"

"The restaurant, Cousin. Everything we will need will either be on the table or on the menu."

• 10:37 A.M.

They were twenty minutes out of Barcelona, heading north and west on the A2 autopista. The van was white. Its driver, a large man named Raphael. Painted on its doors in a black scroll were the words of its origin and destination: Monasterio Benedictino de Montserrat.

Reverend Beck and Luciana rode in the seats directly in back of Raphael. Demi was behind them, alone in the third row of seats, her camera gear and equipment bag beside her. She was looking off, trying not to think of Nicholas Marten and the president and what she had done. Or rather of what she'd decided she had no choice but to do.

Ever since Marten's confrontation with Dr. Foxx in Malta it had been clear that both Foxx and Reverend Beck had been upset. In turn she had been afraid it would spoil, even end, her relationship with Beck. And she thought it had when he'd so unexpectedly left the island the next morning, but then the concierge had called with the reverend's apology and his invitation to Barcelona.

Shortly after she had arrived at his suite at the Regente Majestic and been introduced to Luciana. He had surprised her by saying he understood that her interest in him was due not to his religious vocation but to his association with the Aldebaran coven, which he guessed was the real subject of her book, and not the purported photo essay on "clerics who minister to prominent politicians." Moreover, he'd told her he believed the reason she had tagged along on his European trip was because she knew he was coming to the coven's yearly gathering.

But instead of demanding she leave immediately he surprised her once more, telling her he had discussed her with the coven's elders and they had agreed to open up their proceedings, even allowing her to take photographs. In truth, there was nothing at all evil about the coven and at this point in history they felt there was no reason to keep their rituals secret.

Still, they required a quid pro quo: Nicholas Marten.

"As you have suspected," Beck told her, "Dr. Foxx is a member of the coven. He is currently at the monastery at Montserrat preparing for the coven's assembly. His falling out with Marten in Malta over his congressional testimony in Washington is a situation he is still upset about. He would like to clear the air before any more time passes and before any of it finds its way into the press."

If Marten would come to Montserrat, Beck would arrange a private meeting between the two, something he was certain Marten would agree to: "Otherwise he wouldn't have followed you to Barcelona and then taken you to lunch at Els Quatre Gats. Undoubtedly he thinks you might bring him and Dr. Foxx together."

If Demi was startled by Beck's knowledge of her meeting with Marten, she didn't show it. As for his revelation that she knew about the Aldebaran coven and his involvement with it, he seemed content with the idea that her interest was merely professional, a writer and photographer's search for a story. Moreover, all he had asked was what Marten himself had asked, that she tell him where Dr. Foxx would be and when.

What she had not known at the time, nor had she told anyone since, was that a second person would be accompanying Marten to Montserrat: the president of the United States.