The Belial Library (The Belial Series) (23 page)

Sebastian looked up as Gerard knocked at his door. "What have you found?” 

Gerard walked over, standing in front of Sebastian’s desk, a small notebook in his hand.  "I’ve got the background on Henry Chandler.”

“And my father’s files?  Have you found anything in them?”

“Not yet.  I’ve been through about a third of them.  Your father was a very detailed man.”

“Yes, he was.”

“Sir, most of the notes refer to Council work.”  Gerard paused.  “Is it all right for me to be reading them?”

Sebastian fixed Gerard with a stare.  For the first time he could remember, he saw fear in Gerard.  Which, given the topic, was perfectly understandable.  The Council was little-known, but the whispers of its activities were terrifying.

Sebastian’s family had been members of the Council since its inception.  In fact, his family was rumored to be its founders.  His thoughts darkened when he remembered how his own membership had been denied after his father’s death. 

The Council had been tracking down the relics from Atlantis since the eleventh century.  As far as he could remember his family’s mission had always been to acquire one of the famed city’s legendary libraries. 
And now I have succeeded
.

His smile dimmed as he thought of the Council’s current leadership. 
Cowards
.  Secrecy had become their highest priority, even at the cost of its other goals. 

A necessary precaution, he admitted, although the current leadership took it to extremes, making their actions timid.  Perhaps his being denied membership was actually a blessing.  The Council never would have taken the necessary steps down in Ecuador, which meant they never would have acquired the library.

Sebastian inspected Gerard, enjoying the unease on the man’s face.  “You weren’t planning on sharing the information with anyone else, were you?”

“Of course not.”

“Then you should be fine.”

“Of course, sir.  And I would never betray your trust.” 

Sebastian’s eyes drew to a squint.  Was there a hint of sarcasm in Gerard’s response? 

His aide looked back at him, his face innocent.

Sebastian shook off the suspicion, but tucked it away in the back of his mind.  Gerard might require a little extra supervision.  He waved to the papers in Gerard’s hand. “Tell me what you’ve found on Chandler.”

“Well, I assume you know his recent history.  Age thirty-five, head of a well-respected global think tank.  His personal net worth comes in just below a billion dollars.”

Sebastian rolled his hand.  “Yes, yes.  Titan of information.  Philanthropist, pseudo-father to a super-genius.  I need his more distant history.”

“Yes, sir.  Henry Chandler was the only child of James and Victoria Chandler. His medical records indicate nothing of interest.  In fact, he appears to have never been sick or broken a bone.  At least, he’s never been treated by a doctor for anything other than yearly check-ups, which have all been normal.”

Sebastian nodded.  

“The only note is of his rapid growth when he turned twelve.  As of his last recorded doctor visit, he was seven feet, two inches.”

“What did you find out about his parents?”

“Both are deceased.  His father was killed in a home invasion when Henry was six.  Henry grew up with his mother and later inherited the family estate.  He converted it into the main headquarters for the Chandler Group.”

Sebastian stirred at the mention of his James Chandler’s violent death.  “The father.  How was he killed?”

Gerard paused to flip through his notes.  “He was shot through the heart.  Multiple times.  The M.E. made a note that there were multiple gunshot wounds to other parts of his body but they were older, already healing.  But there was never a police report on the earlier gunshot wounds.  And there was no record of him ever having been treated for them.  In fact, the ME said the wounds indicated he'd been attacked multiple times over the previous weeks, if not months.” 

Excitement began to course through Sebastian. 
Multiple wounds over multiple time periods.  Or multiple wounds that healed quickly, during the same attack.  James Chandler was a Fallen. 
Sebastian could feel it in his bones.

Gerard pulled out a photo and handed it across the desk.

Sebastian’s weathered hand reached for it.  A handsome family.  The father was of average height and Henry was still a child in the shot.  He glanced at the mother and the hair rose on the back of his neck.  He leaned back in his chair, staring at the woman.  He knew that face.

“The mother,” he croaked.  He took a steadying breath.  “What do you know of the mother?”

Gerard looked abashed.  “Actually, she’s been difficult to find any information on.  According to her marriage license, she was Victoria Smith before she married Chandler at the age of twenty-one.  But I can’t find any information on her before that point.  She died when Henry was eighteen.”

Sebastian pierced him with his eyes.  “How did she die?”

“Her car ran off a bridge during a storm.”

“Was the body recovered?”

Surprise flitted across Gerard’s face.  “No, actually, it wasn’t.”

“We need to learn more about the Chandler family.  Going through my father’s notes is your priority.” 

“Yes, sir.” Gerard bowed his head and turned.  The door closed softly behind him.

Sebastian pushed back from his desk.  He shuffled over to his bookcases, his mind
moving much faster than his aged limbs.  His eyes scanned the shelves, searching for the binder. 
There
. 

He moved to the right hand side of the shelf, annoyed that he now had to stretch to reach the top shelf.  A few years ago, he would have been able to reach it with ease.  He pulled down the binder, annoyed again that it felt heavy in his hands. 

The Council had added to the binders over the decades.  Some of the information dated back hundreds of years.  They had rules about it being locked away.  He smiled.  Another benefit of no longer being associated with them.

Shuffling back to the desk, he placed the old album in the center of the blotter, pushing his other papers aside.  He reached for the Chandler family photo.  He flipped through the binder with his right hand, clenching the picture in his left. 

He grunted as he turned page after page. 
Where is it?
  Finally, his hand stilled.

He stared at the woman on the page.  Long, wavy hair, intelligent eyes, and a feminine grace came through clearly in the sketch.  The documentation attached mentioned her startling eyes, a deep violet, and her red hair.  It was the first sketch he’d ever seen in the binders.  The image had stayed with him through the years.  He’d even dreamed of her as a child.

He looked from the sketch to the picture in his hand.  It was the same woman.  They were identical. 

His mind reeled at the possibility.  His eyes darted between the two women.  In the sketch she was identified as Lily Adams.  But unless the artist had taken some dramatic license, it was undeniably the same woman – Victoria Chandler.

He looked at the date etched in the bottom-right corner of the sketch and his heart seemed to skip a beat: 1732. 
Who is this woman?

CHAPTER 52

Baltimore, Maryland

The next morning, Laney sat in Henry’s office, which had turned into command headquarters in the search for the Ecuadorian group.  A dozen analysts were scattered throughout the room, and more worked down the hall and on other floors.  The project was getting the full court press.  Not, however, that it seemed to be helping.

Laney had been in this room since she’d arrived yesterday, only stopping long enough for a catnap on the couch in the corner.  The hour she slept hadn’t made a dent in her exhaustion, and she was now running on caffeine.  She rubbed her eyes and ran her hands over her face.  "Damn it." 

Jake glanced up from across the table where he was reviewing air traffic reports from Central America.  "What?"

"How can an operation this big not leave a trace?  What were they, ghosts?”

Jake smiled.  “Actually, I checked with some friends in the CIA.  It wasn’t them.”

She rolled her eyes.  “That’s not what I meant.”

“I guess you’re not having any luck tracking down Warren?”

"Not a drop.  Apparently, he doesn't exist, either.  There is no Warren Steadglow.  All the background information he provided to get on our grant is fake.  A really good fake, but fake nonetheless."

"That takes money."

"Yup.  And from his attitude, it was clear he had that in spades.  But damn it, I was hoping it was a way to track down this group.  But it's just another dead end."

"Do you have any photos of him?  You could run them through facial rec."

“No.  I didn't exactly go out of my way to document his part of the project.  If anything, Jen and I were trying to keep him out.  I've gone through all my shots and I don't have any of him."

"What about Jen?  Does she have any?"

Laney stood up and stretched.  "I doubt it, but I'm going to give her a call.  I want to check in, see how everyone’s doing.  Be back in a little bit."

Laney walked out of Henry's office and down the three-story spiral staircase.  Most days, she imagined she was in a giant hoop skirt, and holding a fan as she descended; it was that kind of staircase.  But today, she was too frustrated to let her imagine run wild with her.

Warren, that little scum.  He'd used Jen and her for information.  And he was right in the heart of whatever this was, she knew it.  All the other men who'd been involved were trained operatives.  No way they'd let someone like Warren tag along unless he was connected to the money.

She crossed the black and white tiled foyer and made her way through the dining room with the blue and white toile wallpaper.  Wending her way around the mahogany table that could seat eighteen, she threw open one of the French doors that lined the entire back of the house. 

She stepped out onto the veranda with a sigh. Green hills spread as far as she could see.  Hummingbirds and butterflies flitted around the line of flowers that bordered the space.  A giant magnolia tree stood off in the distance, just coming into bloom.  She closed her eyes and breathed deep, willing herself to calm down.

Opening her eyes, she walked over to one of the loungers and took a seat.  She pulled out her cell, dialed Jen, and stretched out her legs.   

Jen answered almost immediately.  "Hey, Laney."

"Hey.  How are you doing?  How’s the rebuilding?"

"The physical rebuilding’s moving quickly, thanks to Henry.  But the psychological rebuilding?  That's going to take a lot longer, if ever.  Your uncle's been great, though.  He's in the thick of things.  Always there with a shoulder to cry on or a hammer to nail something.  He's been incredible."

"I talked to him this morning.  Being able to help is why he went into the priesthood.  But I can feel his heartbreak for the Shuar people.  In one fell swoop, they lost the reason for their existence and almost all of their people.  I don't know how they'll rebound from that."  Laney paused.  “How’s Nana?”

The sigh came across loud and clear.  “She’s struggling.  I mean, she’s strong and doing what needs to be done.  But every once in a while, I catch a look on her face and it breaks my heart all over again.”

Laney remembered Julian’s face as he tossed a squealing Elena in the air.  He had been a good man, a good leader.  He didn’t deserve what had happened to him.  “It’s not right, Jen.”

“No, it’s not.”  The shared grief stretched between them before Jen spoke.  “Any luck tracking down the monsters responsible for all this?"

"No.  Not a trace.  It’s like these guys dropped from the sky and disappeared right back into it again.”

“You sound tired.”

Laney stifled a yawn.   “A little.  Until these guys are caught, though, I don’t think I’ll be able to close my eyes without seeing the horrors they created.”

“Yeah.  I can’t say my dreams have been all that easy, either.”

Laney gave herself a mental shake.  “Speaking of horror shows, I'm having trouble tracking down Warren.  Everything on his application was fake."

Jen's voice burst through the phone.  "That son of a bitch!  I swear, Laney, if I ever see that cockroach again, I’ll end him."

"Not if I see him first.  But right now, we just need to find him.   And I’m not having any luck.  I was hoping to track him down through a picture.  But, believe it or not, I don't have any."

Jen snorted.  "Well I never took any of him intentionally.  He's so damn pasty, he'd ruin my shots."

"Hey, careful with the pale jokes," Laney joked.

"Your pale’s beautiful, his is unhealthy. There's no comparison.  I'm guessing you want me to look and see if I have any photos of him?"

"Yeah, and the faster the better.”

"Well, I guess I better get on it then.  The sooner you track down the asshole, the sooner we get someone to pay for what they did.  And the sooner we can get the Shuar’s treasure back to them."