The Templar Concordat Read Online Free PDF Page B

and jammed a wadded sock into her mouth. Marie gagged and struggled for air through her nose.
    He doesn’t know anything about the Templars, Marie thought. He really does think I’m the silly wife of an American drunk from Toledo. He’s just a serial killer who targets women when he’s not blowing up airliners. He’s supposed to be a bomb throwing terrorist! Jihad and all that. Why didn’t we know this? Why didn’t we know this? Who the hell? Where is Callahan? Where? Where? Where? Did Zurich know? Panic rose again but she refused to surrender. Make him talk. Make him talk. Talk? Talk? With a gag in my mouth? Look for a way out of this. Think. Anything.
    Callahan also felt the panic. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. This was taking too long, and Marie was paying for it. He was supposed to be there, in the closet with the gun and drugs. Rashid should already be in a peaceful, drugged coma. Marie should be safe by now.
    Rashid slowly cut her panties and sliced the bra in the middle, again using the knife tip to precisely fold the pieces back on each side. “You are a lovely woman,” he said, “but you will now become infinitely more lovely, a vision of pure beauty, with a purity that will wash all the filth of the Americans from your soul. A fitting gift to God? Yes. To God to God to God we go, from slut to art, oh humdeedoo…”
    Callahan hit the top floor. A dining room, and a waste of time. Nowhere to go but down. He had guessed wrong. Marie and Rashid were in 315, 415, 515, or 615. Where had he started? Room 715? That meant three or four rooms to check? What if he missed a floor? Are floors printed on the stairwell doors? If he had gone down first, rather than up, he would have found them by now. Why had he gone up?
    At each landing on the way down he jumped, with one foot landing on the middle stair below him, and the next on the landing. Grab the railing. Swing around to keep the momentum. At the sixth floor, he crashed down the metal stairs and tasted blood running down his face.
    Marie tried to calm herself, seeing nothing but death ahead now. Other Templars had faced the same for nine-hundred years, and they had faced it like warriors. If this was her time, this was her place, and this was how it would happen, she would go out like a warrior. This would be her finest hour. Death in Battle.
    Room 615 yielded only Spanish curses from a huge man who charged Callahan when he opened the door. The last thing he needed now was to get tied up in a fight with this guy.
    Rashid’s insane singing and bragging about what a masterpiece he would make of Marie was all that came through the earpiece now.  Masterpiece? Damn! Too slow!
    Rashid held the handle of the knife lightly between two fingers, letting it barely touch her skin, and watched the thin red line follow the blade from below her navel to her sternum. He touched the tip of the blade to his tongue. “Exquisite.” She never flinched, and she never broke eye contact.
    “But I’m afraid I’m getting ahead of myself here. My apologies. I’m not properly dressed for the occasion.”
    Room 515 was a slumber party for teenage girls who all screeched when Callahan entered. Had anyone called security when he broke into their room? Would they intercept him before he got to her?
    Rashid put the knife between his teeth and slowly removed his shirt for the slut. Let her appreciate the art.  He flexed his pecs, stiffened his triceps, unbuckled his belt, and tossed it over a shoulder. Look at her eyes. She loves this. He let his zipper down and eased his trousers over his hips, lifted one leg to free it… and the door burst open. What? Who? When he turned toward the door, a man with a bloody face lifted a pistol, shot twice, and kept coming. The knee that was supporting him exploded in pain, buckled under the impact of the small bullet, and he collapsed in a tangle of legs and trousers against the night table.
    Rashid grabbed the knife from his teeth and tried to rise, but