Gold of the Knights Templar (Olivia Newton Book 2) by Preston W. Child

Author:Preston W. Child [Child, Preston W.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-05-28T22:00:00+00:00

6

Dean Anson was a tall man who wore valet's clothes. He was smoking a pipe and standing in an alley when the team arrived in the shadows with Katherine Holland. The house beside which he stood was much like Shugborough Hall, but smaller.

"Follow me," he said and disappeared into the shadows.

They followed behind the man until he stopped by a door. He tapped on it four times, and it creaked open. There was a face there, a woman. She wore a scarf like Katherine's, red; She looked every bit as scared as Olivia and her team.

They walked a short hallway and up wooden stairs. Lamps hung from the walls and old paintings.

A different woman was waiting at another door, this one dressed like the others too. She opened the door and ushered them into a well-furnished room.

Katherine said, "and here my services end, shalom."

She disappeared down the hall, and the team would not see her again. Olivia was gasped when he saw the paintings on the wall. Life-sized paintings of famous English people, of scenes from wars, and there was a full size of the painting of three men and a woman.

"That's a fake, you know," Dean Anson said quickly.

He took a seat and asked the visitors to do the same; Olivia opened her bag and fetched the half copy. She went to the painting on the wall and compared it. It was true. It was a reproduced copy, the brush strokes said that much. But whoever did it was genius.

Dean filled his pipe and lighted it, pungent white smoke rose from his face. His balding forehead shone with health. His hair was very black and combed back; he regarded Olivia with small blue eyes.

"The only way you are getting into Shugborough Hall is if you pretend to be what you truly are, yes."

Olivia looked at the man, she sat beside Anabia.

"How?" she asked.

"An order calling themselves the protectors are waiting to gun you down as we speak, you could never hope to get out of there alive."

"Because the treasure is real?" Miller posed.

Anson glanced at the billionaire. He frowned and freed his mouth the burden of the pipe, "if anyone told you differently, I'm afraid they have you thoroughly deceived."

"Well, then, tell us how to get a look at the tombstone in the cemetery."

Anson turned his attention back to Olivia, "only you can do it. But you'll have to disguise yourself, only then can you get near enough to see the clues. And it has to be perfect."

Olivia nodded, "I'll do it."

—

Shugborough Hall, 9:00 am.

She drove a rented Fiat to Shugborough Hall; she wore a red jacket and trousers. A badge hung from the flap of the jacket. It bore the name of Jackie Olson from BBC Africa, and she was making a documentary video of England's old homes and their family cemeteries.

The guards at the open entrance weren't exactly enchanted by the pretty blonde lady from Wales. They'd like for her to stay off the cemetery. They carried m16s and rifles with mounted scopes.

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