They found him in the study upstairs, watching old Star Trekreruns on the television. He started when he saw them enter the room, then recovered his wits enough to reach for the cell phone lying on the table nearby, but the gun Blaine pulled out and pointed at his head quickly disabused him of the notion.

“If you don’t mind, Professor, we’d like the pleasure of your company for a few days.”

Reinhardt had no choice but to agree.

18

Annja spent the night in Garin’s spare bedroom, emerging from the suite to find him standing before the television in the living room, watching a newscast. He heard her come in and said over his shoulder without turning, “The events at Berceau de solitude have made the news.”

The details were sketchy. Armed gunmen had invaded the monastery, killing fourteen residents. Some of the monks must have fought back, it was theorized, because two of the gunmen were found dead on the front lawn beside the burned-out hulk of their vehicle. A female caller had phoned in the tragedy and had then disappeared from the scene. The police were keeping her identity to themselves.

Annja could see Commissaire Laroche’s hand in the fact that the media didn’t have her name yet, but she knew it wouldn’t stay that way for long. They were just too good at their jobs. And the commissaire’s goodwill would only last so long. He wouldn’t be happy that she’d left the scene of the crime but at least she had a good excuse for that. After all, people had been trying to kill her!

Still, she knew she’d better get in touch with him and explain what had happened.

“Can I use your phone?” she asked.

Garin pointed to a table on the other side of the room, where a slim telephone receiver rested. She was mentally rehearsing what she would say to the inspector as she crossed the room when the announcer’s voice on the television behind her caught her attention.

“In other news, Professor Bernard Reinhardt of the Museum of Natural—”

Click. Garin changed the channel.

Annja spun around. “Wait! Go back!”

Garin shrugged, then flipped the television channel back to the news. The announcer was still talking.

“A neighbor stated that she saw Professor Reinhardt being forced into a dark-colored van by three men in their mid-to-late thirties, and when he tried to call for help, he was struck in the face by one of his abductors. Police are asking anyone with information that might help them locate the professor or his abductors to call the hotline. We turn now to our foreign correspondent…”

Garin flipped through several other newscasts. Reinhardt’s abduction was mentioned more than once, but there was no more information on any of the other broadcasts. Nor had any made the connection between the break-in at the museum, the attack on the monastery and the professor’s kidnapping.

It wasn’t lost on Annja and she was furious with herself for not seeing it coming. A simple phone call last night might have saved Bernard from the entire ordeal.

Apparently sensing what she was feeling, Garin said, “It’s not your fault.”

“Of course it is. I should have called him when we arrived last night, no matter what the hour.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Annja. You had no way of knowing they would target Reinhardt next. They got what they were after. Logically that should have been it.”

Annja realized he was right. That should have been it.

So why did they need Bernard if they had the clues to find the treasure?

The answer, when it came to her, was obvious. They had the instructions from Captain Parker, but they didn’t know what to do with them. They must have kidnapped Bernard in order to get him to work it out for them.

When she said as much to Garin, he agreed.

“So now what?” he asked.

“Now we find out who did this, rescue Bernard and make them pay for what they’ve done.”

Garin regarded her soberly. “And just how do you expect to do that? We don’t even know where to begin.”

“There’s got to be something. They didn’t just appear out of thin air.”

But even as she said it, she knew that, for all intents and purposes, that was, indeed, precisely what they had done. She had no idea who was behind the activity or why. Nor did she have any real clue where to start. She supposed the police report from the museum break-in might contain some information, but getting her hands on that…

It seemed hopeless.

“The best bet is to beat them to the treasure.”

Annja stared at Garin. “Is that all you can think about? Your share of the treasure?”

To give him credit, Garin was actually offended by the statement, which was Annja’s first clue that he was actually trying to be helpful.

“Don’t give me that crap. I’m trying to help you rescue your friend. I don’t give a rat’s ass what happens to him, personally.”

No surprise there, Annja thought.

But something about his very truthfulness made her want to hear him out.

“Sorry,” she said, albeit grudgingly. “How will going after the treasure help Bernard?”

“If we’re correct that the professor was taken to help them recover it, then they’ll keep him alive until they do so and that means he’s not in immediate danger.”

“I’m sure he’d be thrilled at how blithely you’re dismissing the danger of his situation.”

“I’m not dismissing anything. I’m simply saying that running off half-cocked isn’t going to help him.”

“Okay, fine. Point taken.”

“They want the treasure,” he went on. “That’s the point of all this. That’s also our bargaining chip. They’re not going to just let him go when they’re through with him. You know that as well as I do. That would be stupid. Since they haven’t done anything that fits that description so far, I think it would be a stretch to think they’d start doing so now.”

“Agreed, but you still haven’t answered my question.”

“I’m getting to that. If the treasure is what they want, then the treasure is our most important bargaining chip. If we control the treasure, we can call the shots. Including forcing them to let the professor go.”

“We have to beat them to the treasure,” Annja finished for him.

“Right.”

It made sense. As much as she hated to admit it.

Find the treasure, then use it to bargain for Bernard’s life. It seemed like their only option.

Before they did anything, she knew she still had to get in touch with the police inspector.

She grabbed Garin’s phone and made a call to Laroche’s office. The operator wasn’t able to locate Laroche, so Annja left a message telling him she was all right and that he could call her back or she would be in to speak with him later that day.

When she hung up, Annja found Garin watching her. He inclined his head in the direction of the phone.

“Do you think that was wise?” he asked.

“I don’t know about wise, but it was certainly necessary. My wet clothes are still at the monastery, as is the car that Bernard loaned to me. Never mind that I identified myself on the emergency call. Not getting in touch would make it seem like I was complicit in some way.”

Garin wasn’t entirely convinced, but agreed to go along with what she thought best for the time being.

It didn’t take long for Laroche to call back. He wasn’t happy that she had left the scene and was far more brusque than usual in dealing with her. They made arrangements for Annja to come in for an interview later that day.

Two hours later Annja presented herself to the desk sergeant at police headquarters, Garin at her side. She was directed to wait off to one side of the crowded lobby for the inspector to come down to get her.

Thankfully, he didn’t take long.

Laroche came out of the elevator a few minutes later and moved directly to her side.