Finding North (5 page)

“
How about this one?”
Dominic asked. He walked across the room to the photo of Alex
leaning against the door to the vault, with Jesse’s head in her
lap. “I bet you’ve seen her before.”

“
I didn’t take that one,”
Joseph said.

“
I did,” Raz said. “And
the one of Y.”

Alex held her hand out to
him, and he took it. On the screen, the bookstore owner seemed to
be pretending to be thinking.

“
Maybe,” the bookstore
owner said. “I do like adventurous adult films. Isn’t she the star
of . . .”

“
She is my niece,” Dominic
said.

The bookstore owner
swallowed hard. There was a sharp tap on the door.

“
Great. The Americans are
here,” Dominic said. He got up from his seat and went to the door.
“I’ll leave you with them.”

“
No!” The bookstore owner
scrambled across the tile floor. He clung to Dominic’s leg. “Don’t
leave me with them.”

“
Why shouldn’t I?” Dominic
asked.

“
Please don’t leave
me!”

“
You know what the
Americans call it?”

Dominic put his hands on
his hips and looked around him. The bookstore owner shook his
head.

“
Rendition,” Dominic said.
“Tidy name, don’t you think? They pick a country that couldn’t care
less if people are tortured, humiliated, abused, or killed. You’d
be surprised at how many countries simply don’t care. The Americans
find those countries, pay them well, and build a site like this.
All that’s left is to pick up scum like you
and . . .”

“
Scum?” The bookstore
owner looked genuinely offended. “How dare you?”

“
They use ‘enhanced
interrogation techniques’ here.” Dominic shrugged. “Nice name for
‘torture.’ The Americans have a way of naming things
that’s . . . special. Well, what do you expect from
the country that created Disney?”

Dominic snorted a
laugh.

“
You have to admit it.”
Dominic nodded. “Those Americans are good with
marketing.”

Unsure of how to respond,
the bookstore owner opened and shut his mouth.

“
They will do things that
will make you beg for mercy in two seconds. No more,” Dominic
said.

Dominic tapped on the
door. The bookstore owner began screaming incoherently. The lock
clicked open, and the door moved.

“
I’ll tell you anything,
everything,” the bookstore owner said. “Just don’t let
them . . . I have a weak heart. I am the sole
caretaker of my ninety-seven year old mother.
I . . .”

“
Who did you tell?”
Dominic’s voice was calm and soft.

“
Tell?” The bookstore
owner sounded puzzled.

“
This man?” Dominic walked
to where the image of Paul’s dead body adorned the wall. “This is
Sergeant Paul Tilly. He was a decorated soldier, graduated top of
his class in engineering at the Citadel. He’d just been recruited
to work with the US Army Corps of Engineers. He would have started
nine months from . . . His girlfriend was pregnant.
They planned to marry when he returned from his trip.”

Alex’s hand clamped over
her mouth. Tears streamed down her face. Joseph looked grim. On the
screen, the bookstore owner began to visibly shake.

“
Sergeant Tilly was a nice
person, a kind person,” Dominic said. “He was the kind of guy who
went to bat for anyone in need. Every year, he’d pick a cause —
saving the whales or buying trees in the Amazon or children sold as
prostitutes or whatever spoke to him. He’d raise money — and
awareness — for this one issue for an entire year. He’d badger his
friends to run campaigns to save the monkeys or whatever. One year,
he championed the Gypsies, the ‘Roma,’ as he called them. I told
him . . .”

Dominic’s face shifted to
a soft smile as he remembered. For a moment, he fell
silent.

“
Gone,” Dominic snapped
his fingers. “Just like that, he’s gone. And here you
are.”

Dominic fell silent. The
bookstore owner watched him closely. Dominic took a breath and
nodded. He walked to the picture of Jesse and Alex.

“
My niece?” Dominic asked.
“This is her best friend. He was shot with one burst of sixteen
rounds and a second of twenty-six, separated by four minutes.
Forty-two bullets. He died in her lap. He was the child of a
Mexican prostitute who just happened to be working in San Diego
when he was born. She had him and left him. He fought his way into
the US Army. He broke his back to become a Special Forces soldier.
And this . . . is what he gets . . .
FROM YOU.”

Dominic’s voice echoed in
the small room.

“
I . . .
I . . . I . . .” the bookstore owner
said.

“
I’m not going to mention
my niece,” Dominic said. He was breathing hard, almost panting. A
medium-sized, fit man, his shoulders moved up and down as he sucked
air into his lungs. His voice dropped to a whisper. “I cannot be
held accountable for what I will do. She was my brother’s eldest
daughter. She was my friend, my fly-fishing companion,
my . . . She was one of my favorite human beings.
Ever. More than fifty years of life, and she was my favorite
person. And she . . .”

Dominic opened his hand so
the tips of his fingers pointed toward the wall.

“ 
. . .
because of . . .”

Dominic held his hand,
palm up, to the bookstore owner.

“
Her friends, her father —
they are watching,” Dominic said as he pointed at the video camera.
“They beg for justice.”

He shook his head and
walked to the door. He’d just reached the door when the bookstore
owner spoke.

“
There was a standing
order,” the bookstore owner said.

Dominic rested his head
against the grey metal door. He took deep breaths to calm
himself.

“
Anyone a copy of E. L.
Voynich’s
The Gadfly
came into my hands — from anyone — I was to call,” the
bookstore owner said. “I’d sold him ten, maybe twelve, and
then . . .”

The bookstore owner
pointed to Paul. Terrified, his finger shook
uncontrollably.

“
He . . .
he . . . he was supposed to come, bring the book,
but . . . he . . .” the bookstore
owner shook his head.

“
He was dead,” Dominic
said. He turned to face the man. “Dead men don’t sell books to
bookstores — even quaint, old bookstores in the heart of
Paris.”

“
No, this is
before . . .” the bookstore owner pointed at the
walls. “I gave him an appraisal. Quite a lot of money, actually. He
wanted to think about it, speak with his ex-wife. He was supposed
to come back. He was supposed to bring the book. I’d called my
buyer while the soldier was in the store. ‘I think I have it,’ I’d
said. He was excited, happy. I was expecting the soldier
to . . . My buyer . . . my
buyer . . . he . . . was expecting me
to give him the precious book, but I . . . couldn’t.
The soldier never came back.”

“
What do you mean?”
Dominic asked.

“
He and the girl, your
niece, and the boy from Mexico, they came in with the book. They
wanted an appraisal. The soldier was getting married, and
. . .” The bookstore owner nodded. “I took the book to
the back and called my buyer. It was the book he’d been looking for
all those years — the book with the writing in two hands. It was
the book he wanted, the book he’d waited for. I knew I could sell
it for a good price, so I offered the soldier a good price. After
all, he was getting married. But, of course, Americans don’t trust
the French — even honest businessmen like myself are suspect. They
wanted to think about it. They were supposed to come
back.”

The bookstore owner stood
up. He went to Dominic and leaned close.

“
They were supposed to
come back,” the bookstore owner said in a low voice. “They were
supposed to bring me the book.”

“
What happened next?”
Dominic asked.

“
My
buyer . . . he became . . . agitated.
Paranoid. He was sure the book had fallen into the ‘wrong hands,’”
the bookstore owner said. “He started threatening me. He thought
I’d sold it to someone else. He decided I’d taken it to the
authorities. He was . . . horrifying. Crazy. My
mother is old. I am all she has,
and . . .”

“
What did you tell him?”
Dominic asked in a low tone.

“
I . . .
Nothing,” the bookstore owner shook his head with such violence
that sweat flew off the ends of his hair. “Nothing.”

The bookstore owner’s hand
unconsciously went to his heart.

“
What did you tell him?”
Dominic repeated the question in the same low tone.

“
Nothing,” the bookstore
owner said. “I had lots of business, busy bookstore. I can’t track
every . . .”

“
WHAT DID YOU TELL HIM?”
Dominic yelled.

Chapter
Four

The bookstore owner
blinked. Dominic shrugged and put his hand on the door’s
handle.

“
I . . .
he . . . The girl . . . she and the
Mexican boy came in a lot,” the bookstore owner said. “They liked
to look at ancient maps. The boy from Mexico, he liked old
churches. He bought old guides to ancient churches. They would go
out and find these churches — ruins, really. They brought me photos
and . . . I start getting the maps out when I saw
them coming up the hill from
Le Fée
Verte
. She . . .
I . . .”

“
You told him to find her
at
Le Fée Verte
?”
Dominic said.

“
I . . .
didn’t know he’d . . .” the bookstore owner said. “I
didn’t know. I didn’t know. I didn’t know.”

The bookstore owner’s
voice rose with hysteria. His hand rubbed his heart.

“
You have to believe me,”
the bookstore owner said. “I didn’t know.”

“
I don’t believe you,”
Dominic said. “I think the man who wanted the book terrified you. I
think you told him where to find her to get him off your back. I
think you didn’t care about her or the boy from Mexico or Sergeant
Tilly or any of them. You cared only that this terrible and
frightening man was off your back. Better he takes his rage out on
them than on you — right?”

“
They betrayed me,” the
bookstore owner said. Enraged, his entire body flushed red. “They
were supposed to come back!
Don’t betray
yourself
, I thought when I saw the book.
Don’t let them know how much you want it, or they
will . . .”

The bookstore owner
pointed his index finger at Dominic.

“
They
betrayed
me
!” The bookstore owner’s head went up and down in a
nod.

“
I guess you showed them,”
Dominic said.

He nodded at the gruesome
images on the wall. The words hit the bookstore owner harder than
any punch. He went white.

“
I need his name,” Dominic
said.

The bookstore owner gave
another vehement shake of his head.

“
Fine,” Dominic said.
“You’ll beg for me before they even get started.”

Dominic walked to the
door. He tapped, and the door opened. He was gone before the
bookstore owner could say another word. The bookstore owner began
to shake with fear. His hands went to his heart again. He looked up
into the video camera and then at the door.

He stared at the video
camera for a moment. He mouthed: “
C’est
sur votre ancienne carte du monde.”

“
What did he say?” Joseph
hopped to his feet. “I missed it. Anyone?”

“
Something about a map,”
Trece said.

“
An ancient map,” Margaret
said.

“‘
It’s on your ancient map
of the world,’” said Homeland Security Agent, Alex’s brother, and
retired Special Forces medic, Colin Hargreaves. “Do you think
that’s the map on your wall, Alex?”

“
He was told I’m dead,”
Alex said. “There’s no reason to believe he’s aware that I
survived.”

“
Then who was he talking
to?” Raz asked.

“
Whose map?” Matthew
asked. “What’s ‘it’?”

The bookstore owner
swallowed hard. His head rotated as he looked at the images again.
He took a step toward Paul and collapsed. His lips moved before he
passed out.

“
What did he say?” Joseph
asked.

“
Je suis
désolé
,” Margaret said. “I’m
sorry.”

The guards rushed into the
room. They dragged him out of the room.

“
You sure it’s not yours?”
Troy asked. “You’re the only person I know who has ancient maps of
the world.”

“
I have a couple old
maps,” Alex said. “They were gifts. I’ve never been able to afford
one. They are seriously expensive. My Dad gave me the one in my
office. I got the one upstairs . . . somewhere.
They’re copies, I think. But . . . my memory is so
screwy now . . .”