page51 (1/2)

The shrewd young priest from Lirey buys the shroud froold

Prices have gone up since the last time Christ was sold

CHAPTER 39

Avignon

The Present

I checked the rearviewspace and fell in behind me It looked like the car I’d seen the prior day, and this tirille to tell that it was a black BMW I even thought I recognized the driver’s large, shaved head frouard Just as Descartes had predicted, Junior was tailing me to Geneva

A quarter ate, the Saint Joseph portal I turned right, through the gate; behind ain, I saw that a white panel truck — service vehicles look the san and cut in front of the black sedan, tucking in alreen, I threaded the car through the narrow opening, then turned iht onto the three-lane road, Saint Lazarus Boulevard, which ringed the outside of the wall to ht The road was like awith cars rather than barracudas Out reen Rhône, and as I checked lie downstreaes and dredges, as well as old canal boats that had been transformed into luxurious houseboats A small crane was bolted to the stern of one of these canal boats, and dangling froh above the reach of thieves, was an old-fashioned three-speed bicycle, e back home

A quarterthe wall, while the other dived into a tunnel A road creorking near thecars slowly forward As I approached, he stepped fro I braked, but he waved h, as well as the white panel truck behindthe line of traffic At the front of the line of stopped cars was the black BMW, and I s at the delay

Halfway through the tunnel I slaearshift in neutral, and leaped out, leaving the engine running Behind me, the side door of the white panel truck opened, and out sprang a gray-hairedkhaki pants and a blue shirt that mirrored my own outfit exactly My look-alike nodded to eot, slammed the door, and took off I hopped into the van, and the door slid shut Inside, I could barely see Descartes in the di a radio transh the rear s, rapidly closing the distance with our slow-eot,” Descartes said “That was très bien fait—very well done Twenty-three seconds” In less than half aa double in ht us a day’s delay A day and a half in which to find the hidden bones or — failing that — to get the Native American skeleton that was en route from Knoxville It was, I suddenly realized, another switcheroo: a look-alike, a stand-in — and it was standing in for another fake relic at that

When we eht at the first intersection The black BMW roared past, its speed and dark s defeating my efforts to see the driver’s features

“The decoy — er; the fake me,” I said to Descartes “Who is he?”

“Just one of our inspectors; a guy who happens to look like you”

“Lucky hier do you think he’s in?”

“On the way to Geneva, zero On the way back, et the bones” The inspector shrugged “He has ood driver, a good shot He can take care of himself But risk is part of the job”

The van lurched as the driver doubled back toward Avignon “You think Junior will fall for it?”

“Let’s hope so” He waved a finger at et into the car dressed like this, and he’ll see your double get out of the car dressed like this So unless so makes him suspicious, he’ll assume it’s you”

His “unless” dug intoa passing finger “What ht make him suspicious?”

He shrugged “If they had so at the other end of the tunnel, maybe they noticed the extra twenty seconds it took for the car to go through The police, we ht notice But these guys aren’t that good They’re fanatics, not cops or spies”