"Five hundred years, Garin." Roux leaned forward and put his head in his hands. " Overfive hundred years. I searched everywhere for that sword, for those pieces. Now they're all gone."
Garin's voice was gentle and kind. He didn't sound like someone who had tried to kill Roux.
Of course, Annja decided, he didn't sound insane, either, and he had to be. Both of them had to be.
Roux stared at the empty case.
"Once I had them all together, somethingshould have happened," Roux complained bitterly.
"It disappeared," Garin said. He looked relieved.
"It wasn't supposed to do that," Roux argued.
"You said you didn't know what it would do."
"Wait." Annja held her hands up and stepped between them. "Time out."
They gave her their attention.
" Whotold you to find the sword?" For the moment, Annja decided to go along with their delusion or outright lie that they had seen Joan of Arc carry the sword.
"I don't know," Roux said.
The old man shrugged. "Joan was one of God's chosen. A champion of light and good. It was my duty."
Annja breathed deeply and tried not to freak. The situation was getting even crazier.
An alarm erupted, dispelling the heavy silence that fell over the room.
Immediately, a section of the wall to the left of the computer desk split apart and revealed sixteen security monitors in four rows. Ghostly gray images sprinted across the landscaping outside the big house.
"Intruders," Roux said.
The intruders wore familiar black robes and carried swords that flashed in the pale moonlight. They also came armed with assault rifles and pistols.
A security guard took up a position beside the house and fired at the monks. Almost immediately, a monk with an assault rifle chopped him down, then turned and came toward the house.
The new arrivals began targeting the security cameras. One by one, the monitors inside Roux's study went dark.
Galvanized into action, the old man ran for the vault. "Who the hell are they?" he shouted.
"Monks," Garin replied.
"Monks?" Roux took an H&K MP-5 submachine pistol from the vault, shoved a full magazine into it and released the receiver to set the first round under the firing pin.
Annja was familiar with the weapon from the training she'd received.
"Some kind of warrior monks from the looks of them," Garin added. "Like the Jesuits. With better firepower."
"What are monks doing attacking my home?" Roux asked.
"In Lozère, they were looking for the woman," Garin said. After a brief glance at Roux's armory, he took down a Mossberg semiautomatic shotgun with a pistol grip and smiled like a boy on Christmas morning. He shoved boxes of shells into his jacket pockets.
Roux turned his gaze on Annja, who stood panicked and confused.
"Do you prefer a short gun or long gun, Miss Creed?" Henshaw asked. He had two rifles slung over his shoulders and was buckling a pistol around his waist.
"Pistols," Annja said, thinking that they would be more useful in the closed-in areas of the big house.
Henshaw handed her a SIG-Sauer .40-caliber semiautomatic with a black matte finish.
"I thought I saw another one in there," Annja said.
For the first time that night, Henshaw smiled. "Bless your heart, dear lady." He handed her a second pistol, then outfitted her with a bulletproof vest with pockets for extra magazines.
Roux buckled himself into a Kevlar vest, as well. "I don't suppose they're here to negotiate?" he asked rhetorically.
The lights went out. For a moment blackness filled the room. Then emergency generators kicked to life and some light returned.
Roux clapped on a Kevlar helmet. "What the bloody hell do these monks want?"
"Their mark was on the back of the charm," Annja said. "What do you think the chances are?"
"I think I should have paid more attention to that damned charm. Giving it back to them before was merely out of the question. Now that option appears gone for good."
"This house is pretty well fortified," Garin said as he saw to his own protection.
"Thank you," Roux said. "I tried to see that it was well-appointed."
"Do you think they can get through the front door?"
A sudden explosion shuddered through the house with a deafening roar.
Roux touched a hidden button on his desk. The dark monitors, powered by generator, came back on. This time the views were from inside the house.
On one of the screens, a dozen monks poured through the shattered remains of the elegant front door. They opened fire at once.
"Yes," Roux declared. "I believe they can." He picked up the submachine pistol.
"Do you have an escape route?" Garin asked.
"I recall having escaped from your assassins on a number of occasions."
Garin scowled. "This isn't a good time to revisit past transgressions."
"Then you'll warn me before you transgress again?" Roux asked.
Garin remained silent.
"I didn't think so," Roux said. "Henshaw?"
"Yes, sir." The butler stood only a short distance away, always positioned so that Garin couldn't take him and his master out at one time with a single shotgun blast.
"You know what to do if this bastard shoots me," Roux said.
"He won't live to see the outcome, sir."
"Right." Roux smiled. He took the lead with Garin at his heels as if they'd done it for years.
At the wall beside the security monitors, the old man pushed against an inset decorative piece. A section of the wall yawned open and revealed a narrow stairwell lit by fluorescent tubes.
"Where does it go?" Garin asked.
"All the way up to the third floor. Once there, we can escape onto the hillside. I've got a jeep waiting there that should serve as an escape vehicle." Roux stepped into the stairwell and started up the steps.
Garin followed immediately, having to turn slightly because he was so broad.
Two monks dashed into the study and raised their rifles.
Calmly, Henshaw pulled the heavy British assault rifle to his shoulder and fired twice, seemingly without even taking the time to aim. Each round struck a monk in the head, splattering the priceless antiques behind them with gore.
Before the dead men could fall, Henshaw had a hand in the middle of Annja's back. "Off you go, Miss Creed. Step lively, if you please." He sounded as pleasant as if they were out for an evening stroll.
Annja went, stumbling over the first couple steps, then running for all she was worth. The door closed behind them. Her breath sounded loud in her ears as she rapidly caught up with Garin. Gunshots sounded behind her, muffled by the door, and she knew the Brotherhood of the Silent Rain was tearing up Roux's study.
All of this over a charm? Annja couldn't believe it. The charm was hiding something, but she had no clue what.
The tunnel ended against the sloped side of the roof. Roux sprung some catches and shoved the hatch open.
Through the opening, Annja stood on the roof and gazed around. The pistols felt heavy in her hands. Cooled by the breeze skating along the trees behind the house, she surveyed the area. Shouts echoed from inside the tunnel as their pursuers followed.
"Here." Roux ran toward the tree line where the house butted into the hill. There, barely lit by the moon, a trail whipsawed across the granite bones of the land. "Another two hundred yards and we'll reach the jeep."