She finally looked at him.
He wasn’t buying it.
“The end result is the same,” he said. “You get what you want, and others pay the price.” He let his spite show. “So how was your visit with the Venetian curator’s family?”
Her eyes narrowed. Wounded, angry, she swung away. Her voice grew more brittle.
“Whatever is going on here has the Guild stirred up, from its top brass on down. They’re dispensing a huge amount of resources to find this lost key. I’ve only seen them this mobilized once before. Back when we were searching for the Magi’s bones.”
“Why’s that?” Gray hated to get involved with her, but if she had insight, he dared not dismiss it.
“I don’t know. But whatever is happening over at Viatus, it’s only the head of the beast. I suspect the Guild has been manipulating and exploiting the corporation merely as a resource. It’s what they do best. They’re like a parasite that invades a body, sucks it dry, then moves on.”
“But what is their end goal?”
“To find that key. But the bigger question is why is the key so important to the Guild? Discover that and you may be one step closer to finding it.”
She stopped speaking, letting that sink in. Gray had to admit she was right. Maybe he did have to look at the problem from the other way around, work backward.
She finally continued. “We know that Viatus took those mummies and experimented on them. But the bodies were discovered three years ago. So for years now the project has been running below anyone’s radar. I certainly wasn’t aware of it. Yet just as Father Giovanni makes a run for the Vatican, the Guild rises up. Anyone with an ear to the ground like mine could hear it. In the last twenty-four hours, they’ve exposed themselves more than I’ve seen them ever do before. It was what drew me to Italy in the first place, what made me seek out Rachel.”
Gray heard the smallest wince in her voice at the mention of Rachel’s name. She grew quiet after that.
Gray filled the silence. “Wallace believes that the key may be a counteragent against some early form of biowarfare. If the Guild can control the key, they can control the weapon.”
“You could be right, but the Guild’s interest lies deeper than that. Trust me.”
Gray fought against reacting to her last words.
Trust me.
Those were two words she had no right to utter.
He was saved from responding when Wallace lifted an arm ahead and pointed down to the ground. “Here it is!”
“Just think about it,” Seichan finished. “I’m going back to the tractor.”
Gray continued alone to the cave. Lyle had ducked into it. The entrance was shorter than Gray’s waist, but it opened into a tiny cave beyond. Kneeling, Gray pulled out a flashlight from his pack and played it over the inside. It was a natural cavern, and except for a dented beer can and a bit of trash, it was nondescript.
If this was Merlin’s final resting place, he needed to complain about the accommodations. No wonder Father Giovanni never gave it a second look.
“Nothing’s here,” Wallace finally concluded.
Gray agreed. “Let’s head over the hill.”
They walked briskly back as rain began to spatter harder. Once they reached the trailer, they set off again. Lyle drove the tractor over the summit of the hill and down the far side.
Lowlands stretched ahead, again parceled out into tracts of farmland and grazing fields. But at the foot of the hill rose their destination. It was a square tower, half in rubble, rising in the middle of a cemetery. It was all that was left of Saint Mary’s Abbey. A newer chapel and chapel house stood off to one side. From this height, Gray could also make out some crumbled foundation walls of the old abbey.
As they descended, Lyle pointed to a small house in the distance. “Plas Bach!” he called out, naming the place. “You can rent that place. It’s also home to our famous apple tree.”
Gray reached into a pocket of his coat and realized he still had the apple tossed to him by Father Rye. As he stared at the pink apple, it reminded him of the abbey’s residents. Both the apple tree and the monks were described in various circles as uncommonly healthy and of amazing longevity. Had the monks of Saint Mary’s known some secret? Was it the same secret they all sought now, the key to the Doomsday Book? And if so, how did they come by it?
With a final belch of exhaust, reeking of oil, the tractor ground to a halt at the foot of the hill beside the cemetery. Celtic crosses dotted the grounds, including an especially tall one in the shadows of the abbey’s broken tower.
The group climbed out of the trailer bed and dusted off stray bits of straw. The downpour had mostly stopped, which was a relief. But lightning flashed to the north. Thunder rumbled a low warning of more rain to come. They had better work quickly.
Gray stepped over to Lyle. “You said Father Giovanni spent most of his time here. Do you happen to know what he was doing? Is there anywhere he concentrated on looking?”
Lyle shrugged with his whole body. “He was all over the ruins here. Mostly measuring.”
“Measuring?”
A nod answered him. “He had tape measures, and what do you call it?” He pantomimed with his arms, holding them askew and eyeballing down them. “Little telescopes for figuring out how high things are and what not?”
“Surveying equipment,” Gray realized aloud. “Is there any place he spent lots of time measuring?”
“Aye. Our crosses and over by the old stone ruins.”
“Ruins? You mean the abbey?”
Wallace stepped to Lyle’s other side. “I think the boy means the ruins of the ancients, don’t you, lad?”
“That’s correct, sir.”
“Can you show us?”
“Of course I can.” And he was off.
They followed as a group, crossing through the cemetery. Lyle pointed to each Celtic cross as he passed it. He ended at the tallest in the cemetery. It rose from a small hillock.
“This marks the grave of Lord Newborough,” Lyle said. “One of our most famous Bardsey nobles and a great benefactor to the Church.”
Gray craned up at it. Father Giovanni surely knew the significance of the Celtic crosses, how they were modifications of older Druid crosses, which likewise had been borrowed from the ancients who originally occupied the British Isles and carved that symbol on their standing stones. One symbol that linked all three cultures, flowing from the ancient past to the present.