The Shroud Key Read Online Free PDF

coffee.
    “My first name,” she says. “It’s Anya.”
    “Anya and Andre,” I say. “How cute.”
    “We were a cute couple. Very much in love. A long, long time ago.”
    “Now you are divorcing. Or already divorced.”
    She nods, sadly.
    “My husband has been carrying on an affair for a long time, Mr. Chase—”
    “—Just Chase.”
    “Thank you, Renaissance man, Chase Baker … Anyway, my husband has been carrying on an affair that has become his obsession.”
    “I’m sorry to hear that,” I say, visions of the many women who have come through this door over the years, their husbands still waiting for them unawares back in their hotel room. “Seems like nothing is sacred when it comes to marriage these days.”
    She shakes her head vehemently.
    “You don’t understand,” she adds. “If my husband were to have an affair with another woman, that would be one thing. We might be able to work that out, and start over. But this one is different.”
    “I’m not following,” I say, taking a swig of beer.
    She sips her coffee, comes up for air.
    “My husband is not carrying on an affair with a woman.”
    “Oh, I’m sorry,” I say. “He’s switched teams.”
    “No,” she laughs. “I could deal easily enough with that too.”
    “Okay, Anya, let’s have it. Who is your missing husband seeing behind your back?”
    She finishes her coffee, sets the cup down onto the wood coffee table, straightens up, crossing her arms over her chest.
    “He’s carrying on an affair with Jesus,” she says. “And that’s why I’ve left him.”
    I finish my beer, go grab another one, take it back with me into the living room.
    “Let me get this straight,” I say. “You left your husband because he’s overly obsessed with finding the bones of Jesus. Yet here you are standing in my living room asking me to find him? Why not just let him go and get on with his obsession? Live your life? Teach your English classes?”
    Her face takes on a pained expression. Like the coffee I just served her is making her sick. She gently sits herself down onto the couch.
    “I didn’t say I don’t love Andre, Chase,” she says. “Love and care about him. All I said is that our marriage is over.”
    “But you still want me to find him for you?”
    “I’m worried about him. About his…let’s say health.”
    “Why not leave it to the police? To Interpol? Doesn’t make sense to pay me when they can do it for free.”
    Me, still playing hard to get. To perhaps up my price. Maybe considerably so.
    “No,” she says. “I would prefer to keep the police out of the loop as much as possible. Andre’s work is very sensitive.”
    “So are the people he’s working for, no doubt.”
    She stares at the wood plank floor.
    “Yes,” she says. “It’s possible that if the police were to become involved by making themselves plainly visible, grave harm could come to my husband.”
    “Better to hire me and put my head on the chopping block,” I say. “I don’t come cheap. Neither does my head.”
    She says nothing for a heavily weighted moment. Just as well. I use the time to drink a little more beer. It’s while drinking the beer that it hits me. Professor Manion didn’t just get up one morning, get dressed, head to the airport and fly away on his own. He had a little help in the matter.
    “Anya,” I say. “Is it possible your husband was kidnapped?”
    She looks at me hard. Not at me, but into me.
    “It’s not only possible, Renaissance Man,” she sighs. “It’s the sad truth.”

CHAPTER FIVE
    “I’m gonna come clean,” I say, straightening out the shoulder strap on my black, Tough Traveler writing satchel. “I know your husband. Or, used to know him. I worked as a sandhog for him eight years ago in the Giza Plateau.”
    “I had no idea,” she says, shooting me a look of suspicion. But I’m listening to my insides and they are telling me she could be putting on an act. “Why did you wait until now to tell