The Devil's Triangle (A Brit in the FBI 4)

He thought a moment. “We don’t want the polizia to catch her, that could prove fatal if our friends aren’t the ones who control the situation. Lilith knows everything about the thief, her habits, her disguises, where she lives with her husband. We’ll get her, don’t worry.”

A knock sounded on the door. Cassandra called, “Come in,” and Pazzi entered, sweating, his beautiful suit ripped and dirty, his hair wild around his face. He said nothing at all, simply came forward and placed the wrapped staff on the chaise near her feet. He straightened, continued standing silently, waiting for punishment he knew would come. He feared Ajax more than Cassandra, because Ajax was the devil he knew. He’d seen Ajax slip a stiletto into a man’s chest, after one small inadvertent insult. He’d watched Ajax pull the stiletto out of the man’s chest, swipe off the blood across the man’s face, and slip it back in its sheath. And then he’d continued his conversation with Pazzi—over the man’s twitching body.

As for his sister, he didn’t know if she was as deadly as she was beautiful, but he didn’t doubt it. The two of them, side by side, were striking, mirror images of each other—blond, blue-eyed, strong, born of wealth, raised on power. Both deadly. Was the sister smarter than her twin? He didn’t know that, either. At first he’d wanted her, as he imagined most men did when they saw her, but that had passed when she’d looked at him as if he were nothing more than a piece of dirt beneath her feet, and he’d known, deep down, this was exactly how she viewed him, a clod of dirt, not to be shaken off so long as he was useful.

Would Ajax slip his stiletto in Pazzi’s own heart, wipe his own blood on his face? He wanted to tell them that the woman, the Fox, was beyond anything he’d ever seen, and even now he couldn’t believe she’d taken out his men in less than a minute and she’d actually not killed herself flying high over Venice. He’d hit her, he knew he had, but he also knew it would do him no good at all to tell them. He calmed himself. After all, he’d brought them the staff.

His eyes strayed to the frame on the wall above Cassandra’s head. Heavy and ornate, it nearly overpowered the small parchment inside—a careful, intricate drawing of a lightning bolt, faded with age, spots of black along the top edge. Such a curious piece. It was rumored to have come from Da Vinci himself, though Pazzi couldn’t believe such a thing, but if it was true, his bosses had certainly stolen it. Arranged for it to be stolen, that is. Had they killed the thief who’d managed it?

Maybe his failure was more important at the moment than their precious staff. With this thought, his heart was pounding hard now,

bile rising in his throat, and he had to swallow. His wife had never asked him why he chose to live with such fear because she already knew. They paid him very well and he was a venal man.

A lifetime of waiting to Pazzi was only a couple of seconds. Ajax said only, “Well?”

Cassandra wasn’t looking at him, all her attention was on that tube that held the staff.

He tried to stand tall and straight. “I did all I could. That woman, the Fox, she killed my men and escaped over the rooftops. I went after her. I know I hit her, but she didn’t slow.” He could barely get the words out. “She has escaped.” He bowed his head, braced himself.

Ajax said quietly, “We pay you a great deal, Pazzi. Yet you have bungled things.”

“I am sorry, sir. I did everything I could.”

Ajax let the silence grow heavy, then said, “You will have one more chance. The woman is a loose end that could ruin us. Only a fool would trust a thief with such knowledge as she has now. We are not fools. As I said, we will give you one more chance. If you fail to kill her, then your life is forfeit. Do you understand me, Pazzi?”

His heart gave a leap. He wasn’t going to die—this time. “Yes, sir, I understand. What do you wish me to do?”

And Ajax told him.

Cassandra added, “Since we have friends in the Carabinieri and the polizia, we can add another layer to the plan. That house isn’t connected to us, it was only a drop site, nothing more. We left nothing behind. The Rinaldis will not be home until late this afternoon. Murder them, Pazzi, ransack the place, and then let your friends in the polizia know the Fox was responsible. If I recall, Signore Rinaldi is a member of the Venetian council. There should be plenty of outrage in finding the killer of such a prominent Venetian citizen.”

Murder the Rinaldis? They were good people, but—He didn’t want to be dead. Pazzi bowed his head. “Yes, madam. This is a wonderful plan. I will handle it directly.”

“See that you do it right, Pazzi,” Cassandra said, and smiled at him—a smile so cold it froze him to his bones. “Or it will be your headless body floating in the Grand Canal. Now, off with you. I want to hear nothing more of this but a success story. Find the Fox, kill her. Now.”

Ajax said, that smooth voice low, “Don’t fail us again, Pazzi. Lilith wouldn’t like it.”

Lilith, another demon from hell.

The instant he was out the door, Cassandra lightly touched her fingers to the wrapped staff, Pazzi and the Rinaldis forgotten. Had it really belonged to Moses himself?

Ajax came and stood by her chaise. “Shall we?”

“You know what is supposed to happen when we open it, when you and I together touch it.”

Ajax said, “Yes. We will soon see. Are you ready?”

She slowly unwrapped it, so afraid and excited, her fingers shook. She said, “I’ll be careful not to touch the staff itself. The prophecies are clear. We must do it together. We are the last twins of the Kohath line. We are the only ones who can bring the power of the staff back to life.”

He patted her face, almost a slap, but not quite. “I know. We’ve spent our whole lives listening to the prophecy.”

She continued to reverently remove layer after layer. “If it is the real staff the Turks stole from Egypt, then it means we’re probably looking for the Ark in the wrong place.”

Ajax said, “We will soon know if the Ark is in Egypt. I believe whatever the outcome, our expenditure of five million euros was worth it.”

She carefully peeled away another layer of linen. Pazzi had been careful to rewrap it securely. “I want it to be real, I do, but I cannot believe our mother was led astray by faulty information.”

“You’re being too slow, Cassandra. Open it now.”