In Tongues of the Dead Read Online Free Page B

commotion was more one of urgency than of danger.
    The voices stopped outside his hut, and he heard frantic pounding on the wooden door, then more shouting, before an older daughter turned to look at Benicio.
    As he stood, undecided, the girl walked toward him, followed by three local men.
    Benicio waited.
    When they reached the back room, one of the men pushed forward and gave the priest a gap-toothed smile. He thrust a hand out, and in the hand was a satellite phone.
    â€œYou Walt-tory?” the man asked, breathing hard. He’d obviously run some distance.
    Benicio regarded him carefully. “Yes.”
    The two other men, also breathing hard, smiled in an exaggerated, toothy fashion.
    The first man spoke again. “Phone.”
    Benicio took it. “Hello?”
    â€œFather Valori?” The voice crackled with authority and the crisp accent of Rome.
    Benicio instantly recognized the voice. “Cardinal?”
    â€œYou must go to the United States immediately. It is all arranged. The men there will take you to the airport and I will contact you on the plane.”
    â€œShould I retrieve my belongings from the hotel in Phnom Penh?”
    â€œEverything is arranged. Go immediately to the airport.”
    Benicio said the only thing he could think to say. “
Si
, Cardinal.”

VII
    The magnificent, century-old St. John the Baptist Church in the heart of New Haven was known for its beautiful architecture, soaring altar, and an unmatched collection of stained glass in the main sanctuary. The church also boasted a massive organ with more than seventeen hundred individual pipes. Visitors often drifted around the facility, taking pictures and speaking in whispers.
    This Thursday afternoon’s visitors were anything but usual.
    Shemhazai walked purposefully through the front doors into the main chapel. He didn’t pause to take in the beauty of the sanctuary but strode towards the nave. He’d been in the church before. Even on the first occasion he hadn’t taken any notice of the scale of the building. It wasn’t important.
    He stopped at one of the huge oak pews, at least fifty feet long. A man with a beard sat about twenty feet along the pew. The church was empty save for a few tourists who kept close to the outer walls, examining the stained glass.
    Shemhazai wore his library security guard uniform. He slid silently down the pew until he was next to the heavy-set bearded man who sat, head bowed, hands folded in his lap. He wore a dark green raincoat and a large black fedora. Shemhazai could hear the man praying quietly.
    â€œIt is my only intention to provide service to You and bring about closure to the earthly transgressions. Provide us guidance as the days to absolution draw close. Your servant, Azazel.”
    Shemhazai waited until Azazel turned and made eye contact. “Do you really think God listens to our prayers?” Shemhazai asked.
    â€œWould we really be doing what we’re doing if we thoughtGod wasn’t listening?” Azazel asked.
    Shemhazai nodded.
    â€œDo you have news?” Azazel asked.
    Shemhazai laughed sharply. “Seventy generations spent in purgatory waiting for this moment and you are impatient. If nothing else, I would have thought so many years would have taught you patience.”
    â€œThose years taught me only impatience,” Azazel said flatly.
    â€œOkay, I’ll get to the point. I wanted to meet you because I found the last one.”
    â€œThe boy? He is here?”
    â€œYes. He came to the library. He read the book.”
    Azazel shook his head in disbelief. “It’s fitting that the search ends here. Once the boy is gone, all that’s left is the book. The final betrayal. We can destroy both.”
    â€œThere is a complication,” Shemhazai announced.
    Azazel looked at the altar. “The undercover priest.” He sighed.
    â€œYes. He suspects the boy can read the book.”
    â€œHow do you