The Last Templar - Страница 44

"'The well of the willow'?"

Tess nodded. "Exactly. And then I remembered that they were in enemy territory when Aimard wrote his letter. The village had been overrun by the Muslims, and it got me thinking—why would Aimard use the Latin name for the village? How did he know it? It was more likely he'd know the Arabic name for it, the name its conquerors used. That's the name the goatherd would have given them. But Aimard wanted to disguise the name, in case the letter fell into the wrong hands and was eventually decoded."

"So the village was called 'The well of the willow'?"

"Exactly. It was common practice to name places after any geographic features they had."

He looked at her doubtfully. Something in her reasoning seemed to bother him. "To do that, he had to speak their language."

"He would have known it, or, if not him, one of the others with him. By the end of the Crusades, a lot of those knights were actually born out there in the Holy Land. They called them poulains. And the Templars had a strange affinity to some of the Muslims. I read that they traded scientific knowledge as well as mystical insights with them, and they were even said to have hired the hashasheen—their incredibly efficient, pot-smoking assassins—on a few occasions."

He arched his eyebrows. "They hired their enemies' assassins? I thought they were there to fight them."

Tess shrugged. "You spend two hundred years in someone else's backyard, sooner or later you make friends."

Reilly acquiesced. "Okay, so what is it in Arabic?"

" 'Beer el Sifsaaf: "

"Which you found by . . . ?"

Tess couldn't suppress a self-satisfied grin. "The journals of Al-Idrissi. He was a famous Arab traveler, one of the great cartographers of the period, and he kept extensive, highly detailed journals of his trips across Africa and the Muslim world, many of which survive to this day."

"In English?"

"French, actually, but it's not that much of a stretch." Tess reached for her tote and pulled out a map and some photocopies she had made of the old book she had found. "He mentions the town and its pillaged church in one of his journals." She opened up a map that was marked with scribbles and notes. "He passed through it, on his journey from Antalya, through Myra, and up the coast to Izmir.

The coastal area there has an abundance of historic sites—Byzantine, Lycian . . . Anyway, his journal's pretty detailed.

All we need to do is follow his route and we'll find the town—and the church."

Reilly stared at die map. "Now that you've done it . . . what do you think the chances are of Vance figuring it out too?"

She frowned, then looked at him with dead-certain eyes. "I'd be amazed if he isn't on his way there already."

Reilly nodded. He was clearly of the same opinion. "I need to use the radio."

He got up and headed for the cockpit.

* * *

By the time Reilly got back, Tess was well settled in, sipping the last of a glass of spicy tomato juice. She'd gotten him one, too. She watched him drink it, feeling a slight quiver at the idea of sitting there next to him, bound for a distant, exotic land, en route to adventure. If someone had told me just two weeks ago that I'd be doing this . . . She smiled inwardly.

He noticed. "What is it?"

"Nothing. I'm just . . . I'm still stunned that you're here."

"Not as stunned as my boss is, that's for sure."

Her jaw dropped. "You're not AWOL, are you?"

"Put it this way. He's not exactly thrilled about it. But since you didn't know exactly where it is, and since the only way to figure it out was for you to be there physically . . ."

"But you didn't know that before you got on the plane."

He flashed her a small grin. "Are you always such a stickler for detail or what?"

She shook her head, amused by the revelation. So they were going out on a limb. He wants to be here as much as I do. Which surprised her.

Watching him, she realized that she still didn't know that much about the man behind the badge.

That evening, when he had driven her home, she'd caught a few glimpses. His taste in music; his spirituality; his sense of humor, even if it was slightly silted over. She wanted to know more. Ten hours would provide ample opportunity for that—if she could manage to stay awake. Her eyelids felt like they weighed a ton. The exhaustion of the last few days was suddenly catching up on her.

She shifted in her seat, nestling against the window while turning to face him.

"So how is it you can just hop on a plane at a minute's notice?" The curling smile was back.

"Isn't there anyone back home I can bust your balls about, the way you lecture me about Kim?"

Reilly knew what she meant. "Sorry," he teased. "I'm not married."

"Divorced?"

"Nope." Her look made him feel like he needed to expand on that. "A job like mine can be tough on partners."

"Well, sure. If it allows you to hop on planes with girls you barely know—I wouldn't want my husband doing that every day."

He was glad she'd provided a way for him to tack away from where that conversation was headed.

"Talking about husbands, what about you? What happened with Doug?"

Her soft features hardened, her eyes betraying some regret and a tinge of lingering anger. "It was a mistake. I was young—" she groaned, "— younger, and I was working with my dad at the time, not the most exciting of careers. Archaeology's pretty insular. And when I met Doug, he was this brash, confident showbiz guy. He's a charismatic bastard, there's no denying it, and I was just carried away by it. My dad was well-known and admired in his field, but he was a pretty serious guy—a bit grim, you know? And controlling. I needed to get out from under his dominance. And Doug was the way out. This in-your-face, highfalutin go-getter."

"And you're partial to highfalutin, are you?"

Her face scrunched inward. "No. Well, maybe I was. A bit. Anyway, when we were dating, he loved the fact that I also had a career. He was very supportive and interested. Then when we got married ... he changed overnight. He became even more controlling than my dad was. It was like he owned me, like I'd been a collectible he wanted on his shelves. And once he got it ... I was pregnant with Kim before I realized I'd made a mistake. I reluctantly took up my dad's offer to join him on his dig in Turkey—"

"—this is the same trip where you first met Vance?"

"Yes," she confirmed, "anyway, I went there thinking the time off would be good to mull things over, and when I got back I found out he'd been having an affair with the cliche of cliches."

"The weathergirl?"

Tess let out a pained chuckle. "Almost. His producer. Anyway, that was it. I was out of there."

"And you went back to using your maiden name."

"It doesn't exactly hurt in this business. Not that I wanted that creep's name associated with mine any longer than I had to." Far from hurting, it had gone a long way in helping her get the job at the Manoukian Institute. And that was why a potential discovery of this magnitude, which owed nothing to Oliver Chaykin or to being his daughter, might be the stroke that dissolved any lingering thoughts, in her mind and the minds of others, that she was anything other than her own woman.

Provided, of course, that she was the one who made the discovery.

Her eyelids fluttered. She was weary and needed some sleep. They both did.

She looked at him warmly. After a quiet moment, she just said, "Thanks."

"For what?"

"For everything." She leaned over, kissed him softly on his cheek, and pulled back. Outside, the stars felt close enough to touch, gliding by almost imperceptibly in the darkening sky. She pulled down the window shade and, turning over and closing her eyes, she felt herself drift away.

Chapter 54

B y the time Tess and Reilly clambered down the metal steps and onto the tarmac at Dalaman Airport, it was midafternoon and they were both feeling frazzled. The few hours of sleep they had managed on the transadantic flight had helped, but they could have used some real bed rest before continuing their journey. There was no time for that. Instead, they had added to their weariness by waiting three hours at Istanbul Airport before catching the short connecting flight to the south coast, from where diey would begin their inland trek.

Reilly had spent part of the wait in Istanbul on his cell phone, briefing Aparo before having a heated conversation with Jansson, who was still unconvinced by Reilly's rash decision to accompany Tess instead of hauling her ass in to Federal Plaza. The rest of the time was spent with the Bureau's local legal liaison officer, a paunchy man called Vedat Ertugrul who had driven out to meet them and helped facilitate Reilly's passport-less entry into the country. Ertugrul had only days earlier been notified of the likelihood that Vance might be headed for his part of the world. He confirmed to Reilly that, so far, none of the possible entry points had reported anything, before going over logistical arrangements and support protocols. The FBI didn't have any agents on permanent postings in Turkey. The nearest agents were currently in Athens, helping the local police investigate a recent car bombing. Relations with the Turkish government were at best strained, due to the tensions caused by the lingering turmoil in Iraq. Ertugrul assured Reilly that, if need be, he could probably arrange for a local police escort to join them in Dalaman. Reilly thanked him but declined the offer, preferring not to have to deal with language barriers and local bureaucracies. He asked Ertugrul to simply make sure they were informed of his presence on their turf. He'd keep in close contact and call in the troops if needed, although he suspected that this was something he would probably have to handle alone.