received a call from Bezu Fache, questioning the bishop about his apparent connection to a nun
who had been murdered in Saint-Sulpice. Aringarosa realized the evening had taken a horrifying
turn. News of the four additional murders transformed his horror to anguish.
Silas, what have you
done! Unable
to reach the Teacher, the bishop knew he had been cut loose.
Used. The only way to
stop the horrific chain of events he had helped put in motion was to confess everything to Fache,
and from that moment on, Aringarosa and Fache had been racing to catch up with Silas before the
Teacher persuaded him to kill again.
Feeling bone weary, Aringarosa closed his eyes and listened to the television coverage of the arrest
of
a prominent British knight, Sir Leigh Teabing.
The Teacher laid bare for all to see. Teabing had
caught wind of the Vatican's plans to disassociate itself from Opus Dei. He had chosen Aringarosa
as the perfect pawn in his plan.
After all, who more likely to leap blindly after the Holy Grail than
a man like myself with everything to lose? The Grail would have brought enormous power to
anyone who possessed it.
Leigh Teabing had protected his identity shrewdly—feigning a French accent and a pious heart,
and demanding as payment the one thing he did not need—money. Aringarosa had been far too
eager to be suspicious. The price tag of twenty million euro was paltry when compared with the
prize
of obtaining the Grail, and with the Vatican's separation payment to Opus Dei, the finances
had worked nicely.
The blind see what they want to see. Teabing's ultimate insult, of course, had
been to demand payment in Vatican bonds, such that if anything went wrong,
the investigation
would lead to Rome.
"I am glad to see you're well, My Lord."
Aringarosa recognized the gruff voice in the doorway, but the face was unexpected—stern,
powerful features, slicked-back hair, and a broad neck that strained against his dark suit. "Captain
Fache?" Aringarosa asked. The compassion and concern the captain had shown for Aringarosa's
plight last night had conjured images of a far gentler physique.
The captain approached the bed and hoisted a familiar, heavy black briefcase onto a chair. "I
believe this belongs to you."
Aringarosa looked at the briefcase filled with bonds and immediately looked away, feeling only
shame. "Yes... thank you." He paused while working his fingers across
the seam of his bedsheet,
then continued. "Captain, I have been giving this deep thought, and I need to ask a favor of you."
"Of course."
"The families of those in Paris who Silas..." He paused, swallowing the emotion. "I realize no sum
could possibly serve as sufficient restitution, and yet, if you could be kind enough to divide the
contents of this briefcase among them... the families of the deceased."
Fache's dark eyes studied him a long moment. "A virtuous gesture, My Lord. I will see to it your
wishes are carried out."
A heavy silence fell between them.
On
the television, a lean French police officer was giving a press conference in front of a sprawling
mansion. Fache saw who it was and turned his attention to the screen.
"Lieutenant Collet," a BBC reporter said, her voice accusing. "Last night, your captain publicly
charged two innocent people with murder. Will Robert Langdon and Sophie Neveu be seeking
accountability from your department? Will this cost Captain Fache his job?"
Lieutenant Collet's smile was tired but calm. "It is my experience that Captain Bezu Fache seldom
makes mistakes. I have not yet spoken to him on this matter,
but knowing how he operates, I
suspect his public manhunt for Agent Neveu and Mr. Langdon was part of a ruse to lure out the
real killer."
The reporters exchanged surprised looks.
Collet continued. "Whether or not Mr. Langdon and Agent Neveu were willing participants in the
sting, I do not know. Captain Fache tends to keep his more creative methods to himself. All I can
confirm at this point is that the captain has successfully arrested the man responsible, and that Mr.
Langdon and Agent Neveu are both innocent and safe."
Fache had a faint smile on his lips as he turned back to Aringarosa. "A good man, that Collet."
Several moments passed. Finally, Fache ran his hand over his forehead, slicking
back his hair as he
gazed down at Aringarosa. "My Lord, before I return to Paris, there is one final matter I'd like to
discuss—your impromptu flight to London. You bribed a pilot to change course. In doing so, you
broke a number of international laws."
Aringarosa slumped. "I was desperate."
"Yes. As was the pilot when my men interrogated him." Fache reached in his pocket and produced
a purple amethyst ring with a familiar hand-tooled mitre-crozier appliqué.
Aringarosa felt tears welling as he accepted the ring and slipped it back on his finger. "You've been
so kind." He held out his hand and clasped Fache's. "Thank you."
Fache waved off the gesture, walking to the window and gazing out at the city,
his thoughts
obviously far away. When he turned, there was an uncertainty about him. "My Lord, where do you
go from here?"
Aringarosa had been asked the exact same question as he left Castel Gandolfo the night before. "I
suspect my path is as uncertain as yours."
"Yes." Fache paused. "I suspect I will be retiring early."
Aringarosa smiled. "A little faith can do wonders, Captain. A little faith."
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