“You okay?” she asked him.
He nodded. “Got pounded hard.”
And she knew by whom.
“Where is Senor Salazar?” he asked.
“This way.”
She led him back to where Josepe had gone, and they carefully approached a portal blocked by an iron grille.
Another body lay just before it.
They helped the second man to his feet. He was also dazed from a blow to the head.
Both seemed okay.
She stepped to the gate and saw that its wooden jamb had been kicked open.
That meant Cotton had Josepe.
She motioned for quiet and led them away.
“Does either of you still have a weapon?” she whispered.
The second man shook his head and said that his attacker most likely took his. The first man she’d encountered produced a pistol. Cotton must have been in a hurry to leave it behind.
She gripped the gun. “Stay here.”
“It’s our duty to look after Senor Salazar.”
“You know who I am.”
Their silence confirmed that they did.
“Do as I say. Stay here.”
“You should not be the one to go in there.”
She was grateful for the darkness, which concealed the deep concern on her face. Any other time this man would be right.
“Unfortunately, I’m the only one who can.”
THIRTY-SEVEN
MALONE FOLLOWED AS SALAZAR LED THE WAY UP STEPS CHISELED from the rock that encased them, smooth and concave from centuries of wear. At the top they entered a small chamber, the sagging form of its ceiling and rough walls evidence that it had once been a cave. He found a switch and lit a series of dim incandescent candle bulbs, whose pinpricks of light spread out into a rich glow. Six flat, arched niches lined the wall opposite the entrance. He knew what they were—seats for the priests during liturgy. This was the Gertraude Chapel, consecrated in the 12th century and still used for services. In the center rose a Romanesque Gothic pillar, an altar of clay plates to its left, reminiscent of something seen in an actual subterranean catacomb. The contours of an anchor, cross, and fire adorned the altar, representing the divine virtues of hope, faith, and love. A line of five oak benches faced the altar.
“Over there,” he told Salazar, motioning with the gun toward the benches.
He positioned himself between Salazar and the exit. The light barely pushed at the gloom, a washed-out yellow flickering like candles in a breeze. He laid the wooden box on the altar. “I was surprised you let me buy this. A million euros isn’t all that much to a man like you.”
“May I ask why the U.S. government is so interested in my purchases?”
“We’re interested in you.”
“You made that clear.”
He was flying blind. He knew only the tiny bit garnered last night in Salazar’s study. “Tell me about Texas, Hawaii, Alaska, Vermont, and Montana.”
“I see you’ve been inside my residence. Wasn’t that illegal?”
“And Utah. Add that to the mix. What does a citizen of Spain and Denmark care about six American states?”
“Have you ever heard of the White Horse Prophecy?”
He shrugged. “Can’t say that I have.”
“It’s part of my religion. It foretells a great change for America. One that Latter-day Saints will be participants in accomplishing.”
“You’re not serious with ‘the Mormons are going to take over,’ are you? That is insulting to your religion.”
“On that we agree. And no. That is not what I mean. The Constitution of the United States is sacred to us. Our Doctrine and Covenants declare that the Constitution is an inspired document, established by the hands of wise men, whom God raised up onto that purpose to free them from bondage. It is a golden mean between anarchy and tyranny. For whatsoever is more or less than the Constitution, cometh of evil. Our founder, Prophet Joseph Smith, believed in those precepts. But we revere the document in its entire form, as it was meant to be understood.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
Salazar smiled like a man at ease. No concern filled his face. “I have no intention of explaining myself to you. I need you, though, to answer me a question. What laws have I broken?”
“Murder, for one.”
“Who did I kill?”
“Barry Kirk said you killed a man for a book.”
“And you believed him?”
“Not really. You sent him to see what he could learn. So he dangled enough bait to get us interested. Smart. Unfortunately, for you, Kirk pushed too far and I killed him.”
“And the two men on the boat?”
“They got what they asked for.”
“Then I’d say I owe you two deaths.”
A clever admission about the dead agent. Indirect. But nonetheless clear. Which meant Salazar was confident he would be the one leaving here. He’d taken out two Danites below. But how many more were there?