They still had a hard time believing that he had just gone off on a climb one day and never returned. Marie Lavoine had a hard time believing it too.

Without Bernard, the hotel had suffered. He had been the draw-the larger-than-life personality who organized and led top-of-the-line climbing and hiking trips throughout the area. Without him there anymore, even the most loyal clients began finding other guides and inns to stay at. When Bernard disappeared, it heralded the end of an era. It was obvious that Marie Lavoine had been struggling since his disappearance both emotionally and financially. As hard as it was going to be, Harvath decided it was time to address why they had come. “Marie, we need to ask you a question about one of your guests.”

“One of my guests? Who?”

“Elliot Burnham. An American.”

Lavoine looked up at the ceiling for a moment as if trying to recall the name and then back at Harvath. “I’m sorry, we usually received more Europeans than Americans, so you would think it would be easy for me to remember, but I’m sorry, I don’t.”

Harvath could see Marie Lavoine was lying to him. “Marie, this man is very dangerous. People have died because of him.”

At the mention that people had died because of Burnham, a sudden change came over her. Marie grew tense, and even Jillian could read it in the strained creases of her face. Lavoine’s small hands nervously twisted the napkin in her lap. “Who are you? Why are you asking me these questions?”

Jillian placed her hands atop the widow’s and tried to calm her. “Marie, your name, along with Elliot Burnham’s, was listed as the owner of a group of artifacts being authenticated for sale by Sotheby’s. Why is that?”

“I have no idea.”

It was there again, the tell. This time it was even more pronounced. Marie Lavoine was not a good liar. Harvath could see that she was on the edge of coming unraveled. “Marie, I can tell just by looking at you that you know who we’re talking about.”

Lavoine’s eyes started to tear again. “Why would you want to torment a lonely old woman?”

“Why would you want to protect a killer?”

“I am protecting no one.”

“You’re protecting the man who calls himself Elliot Burnham,” said Harvath as he raised his voice and tried to apply just a little more pressure. He could see she was almost there. She wanted to come clean about something. The guilt was eating away at her. She had a confession and it was right on the tip of her tongue. “If you don’t talk to us, we have no choice but to go to the police with this. I don’t want to do that. You seem like a very nice woman to me. Whatever your connection to this man is, I’m sure you had no idea what a bad individual he was; but if you don’t cooperate, we’re not going to be able to help you.”

“I needed his help,” said Lavoine, breaking down into tears.

“Help with what?” asked Jillian as she tried to comfort the woman.

“Selling some of the treasure.”

“Treasure?”

“Yes, the artifacts. I have no pension-nothing. Bernard left me only with the hotel and my memories. And only the memories are completely mine. The bank still expects its payments on the hotel. The artifacts are all I have. Please do not take them from me. Please,” the woman begged. “Monsieur Burnham and I were going to split the money. That is why he wanted to use the hotel for his address.”

After taking a moment to collect her thoughts, Lavoine told them that two years ago Elliot Burnham arrived at the hotel and asked for Bernard by name. Not only had Burnham been looking for the most knowledgeable guide in the region, he also wanted the most discreet. Bernard fit the bill on both counts. Over the years, many celebrities had called the Carré de l’Ours home while they tackled Mount Viso, and despite the pressure from lifelong friends in the village, Bernard had refused to divulge even the smallest bit of gossip about his guests. He had a sterling reputation and it paid off in spades with the arrival of Elliot Burnham.

Burnham presented himself as the director of a large archeological foundation in America. After leaving a sizable deposit, in cash, along with a list of equipment and supplies that would be needed, he returned a week later with the “chief archeologist from his foundation, “Dr. Donald Ellyson.

In Lavoine’s opinion Ellyson seemed to her a man who had been broken by the world, but at the same time, there was a confidence about him that suggested a hopefulness about the future. He was a confusing man of terrible habits-a hard drinker, a gambler, and a tomcat who liked to womanize in the surrounding villages, but someone who always had a kind word for her, especially when it came to her cooking. Ellyson’s death, as well as that of Maurice Vevé, whom Bernard often hired on as a Sherpa on his more involved expeditions, only made the death of her husband more painful. For just one of them to have been lost due to a misstep or maybe the poor placement of a crampon or ice axe would have been difficult to bear, but for all three men to lose their lives on the same day was an absolute tragedy.

“So he came to mount an expedition then?” queried Jillian, coaxing Marie Lavoine forward. “Did Burnham share with you what they hoped to find?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “Bernard and Maurice had been sworn to secrecy. They were instructed not to discuss their work with anyone. Not even me. Monsieur Burnham booked out the entire hotel. He paid for all the rooms and did not care that they went empty.”

Jillian shrugged her shoulders in agreement and waited for Marie to continue.

“At first, Dr. Ellyson was extremely secretive. Even Bernard had no idea what the man was looking for. They made many trips to the Col de la Traversette -”

“What’s the Col de la Traversette?” asked Harvath.

“It’s a pass located just to the north of Mount Viso.”

“Did you know why Ellyson was so interested in it?” asked Jillian.

“Not at first,” said Lavoine. “But I had my suspicions. He was occupying two rooms. One he used for sleeping and the other became an office. I was never allowed in the room he used as an office. He kept it locked, and Bernard had turned over all of the keys to it. The room he used for his living quarters was something different. We had a young girl from the Czech Republic who did our cleaning, but Dr. Ellyson didn’t trust her. I was the only one he would allow to clean his room.”

Alcott nodded encouragingly.

“I did my best to respect Dr. Ellyson’s privacy. But one day, I noticed something unusual on his bedside table. There were three books I had not seen before. I assumed that he had brought them from his office across the hall so that he could read them in the evening before he went to sleep. What was interesting, though, was that there were three copies of the exact same book. Each had been highlighted with a specific color, but all in different places.”

“That’s odd,” replied Jillian.

“That’s exactly what I thought, especially as we knew the author of the book quite well. He had spent many summers here doing research and climbing with Bernard.”

“Who was it?”

“His name is John Prevas.”

“Hannibal Crosses the Alps,” replied Harvath. “I saw it in your reception area.”

“Yes, Monsieur Prevas was kind enough to send us a signed copy when it was published,” said Marie.

“Why was Ellyson so interested in this particular book? What’s so special about it?”

“It is different from other books about Hannibal and the route he took over the Alps. The Col de la Traversette has always been very dangerous, not only because of the steep terrain, but because until the 1970s smugglers controlled it as a way to get from France into Italy. Scholars had avoided investigating the Traversette as a possible route for Hannibal ’s army because of, as a man named deBeer put it, ‘the ease with which triggers were pulled in the area.’ I was never very much interested in the subject until Monsieur Prevas became our guest, but then I began reading. I am certainly no expert, but his book is the most convincing I have ever encountered regarding the true route Hannibal and his army used when crossing the Alps.”