"Or very forgiving," Annja agreed quietly.

"He was a sinner," a strong voice filled with accusation announced.

Annja spun, summoning the sword as she turned. Light splintered along the sharp blade.

A man in his sixties stood in the doorway. He was wearing monk's robes. A dozen more flanked him.

"I suppose," Roux whispered, "in retrospect we truly should have posted a lookout to keep watch."

"Next time," Annja promised.

"More than merely being a sinner, though," the old monk said, "Father Roger was an embarrassment to the Vatican. They had empowered him to act on their behalf in London. England had already stepped away from much of the Roman Catholic Church's auspices. News of Father Roger's perfidies would have made things even worse. You were wondering how he got his bestial child transferred here when by all rights she should have been taken out and euthanized."

"I was," Annja admitted.

The monk stepped into the mausoleum. The other monks followed. Light from their lanterns and flashlights filled the arched cavern.

"Father Roger wrote out a document detailing his transgressions," the monk stated. "He admitted to carrying on with a married woman and fathering a child by her." He shook his head. "It was more than the Vatican wished to deal with. Sir Richard of Kirkland, the cuckolded husband, and Sir Henry, Father Roger's brother, were landed gentry. Men who were important to the king."

"The Vatican didn't want to run the risk of the king's wrath," Annja said.

"That's correct. Neither of the knights knew the truth of the child's heritage. Sir Henry would not have accepted his brother's expulsion from the church. So the decision was made to bring Father Roger to the Brotherhood of the Silent Rain. He could have lived out the rest of his days making books. Instead, he saw to sowing the seeds of his own doom by blackmailing the church into bringing that dreadful creature here."

"Who are you?" Annja asked.

"I am Brother Gaspar," the old monk said. "One of the last of those who safeguard the secrets that nearly escaped our monastery all those years ago."

"Looking back on things," Annja said, "with over a hundred people dead, I'd say your 'secret' got out on a regular basis."

"Regrettable, but true," Brother Gaspar said. "If I had been leader of the order at that time, Father Roger's child would not have escaped."

"Would you have killed Carolyn?" Annja demanded.

The old monk's answer came without hesitation. "Yes."

"She was a child," Annja protested. "Children aren't born evil."

"By all accounts, she was a child of the devil allowed entrance into this world by the sin committed by her mother and father. She was a murderess and a monster." Fire glinted in the old monk's eyes. "Don't you dare try to tell me what she was. All of my order since that time have lived our lives in darkness here within this mountain because of her and her blasphemous father."

"Why did you stay here after the monastery was torn down?" That was the only part Annja hadn't been able to resolve.

"That's none of your business," Brother Gaspar snapped.

"Father Roger left his record," Roux announced. He looked at Annja. "That has to be the answer, of course. No one at the monastery would hear his confession. Or if they would, perhaps he thought it wouldn't matter. No one here worried about Father Roger's eternal soul. In their eyes he was already damned to hell."

"Is that it?" Annja asked. "Is that why you people have been stuck here?"

For a moment, she didn't think Brother Gaspar was going to answer.

"Unfortunately, that's true. One of the documents, his confession, was found at the time of his death. He died during the destruction of the monastery. It wasn't until later that the document was found among his papers."

"I don't see the problem," Annja said.

Brother Gaspar shook his head. "It was clearly marked as the second copy." He shrugged. "I think it was habit for Father Roger to number his copies. The monastery worked on books here. Handwritten and illuminated. We still do. It's a habit to number all versions."

"For all these years that the monastery has gone underground, you've been searching for the original copy?" Annja asked.

"Yes. We won't be permitted to leave this place until we have secured that copy. Or confirmed its destruction." Looking at her, Brother Gaspar lifted an eyebrow. "You have been so clever so far, Miss Creed. Finding the lost treasure. Finding this place when it has been secret for all these years. Figuring out the truth of La Bête. Locating the charm that Father Roger wore. I would have hoped you could divine where Father Roger's missing documents were."

"Father Roger wore the charm?"

"Before Benoit took it, yes." Brother Gaspar paused. "I'd heard Benoit took Father Roger's charm and fashioned it into a map of sorts."

"He did."

"No one at the monastery ever saw it. We thought it lost forever."

"It was around the neck of the man who killed La Bête. Carolyn."

"Was it?" That appeared to surprise the old monk. "You have been quite resourceful."

"I'm good at what I do," Annja said.

"On any other subject," Brother Gaspar said, "I would probably offer you accolades on your diligence and devotion to your craft. I would warn you about putting other pursuits ahead of God, but I would congratulate you." He paused. "Unfortunately, all I can show you for your endeavor is imprisonment."

"What?" Avery exploded. "We've done nothing wrong! The treasure is still where we found it! We only came here because we were trying to escape Lesauvage!"

"But you know too much," Brother Gaspar explained patiently. "I can't afford to let you leave."

At his signal, the monks lifted their weapons and took deliberate aim.

Annja looked over her shoulder at the other door. Three monks stood there with pistols and swords. Cowls shadowed their faces.

"Now," Brother Gaspar said, "your choice is to come willingly… or be shot and interred in this mausoleum. Which will it be?"

Avery looked at Annja. Fear widened his eyes.

"Easy," she said. "Roux?"

"I have him," Roux stated quietly.

"The sword, Miss Creed," Brother Gaspar commanded. "Throw it down, and any other weapons you might have, or we'll take them from your lifeless bodies."

After a momentary hesitation, Annja lowered the sword to the mausoleum floor and slid it across. The weapon stopped in the center of the room.

"Very good," Brother Gaspar said. "Now – "

Hoarse shouts cut off the old monk. Sharp bursts of gunfire followed. One of the monks standing out in the hallway twisted and went down, his face ripped to bloody shreds.

"Kill them!" Corvin Lesauvage shouted out in the hallway. "Kill them all!"

"Roux!" Annja yelled as she turned toward the other door. She reached for the sword and suddenly the intervening twenty feet were no longer there; the sword was in her hand.

Launching herself forward, Annja slashed the sword across two of the assault rifles. The impacts knocked the weapons from the hands of the men.

The third man aimed his weapon and pulled the trigger.

Annja went low, just under the stream of bullets that hammered the stone floor and threw splinters and fragments in all directions. She swept the man's feet out from under him in a baseball slide that tangled them both up for a moment. Before the man could recover, Annja slammed the sword hilt into the side of his head. His eyes turned glassy and he sagged into unconsciousness.