Free Templar 09 - Secret of the Templars by Paul Christopher Page B

the man behind the counter. Holliday checked his watch, then dialed the number of the hotel. He could see the man picking up the phone behind the reception desk as Lazarus removed a rather cumbersome cell phone from his jacket pocket and flipped it open below the eye level of the receptionist. Simultaneously the man at reception connected with Holliday.
    â€œHotel de Russie,” said the receptionist politely.
    â€œI’d like to speak with Mr. Bingham. Is he in?” Holliday asked.
    â€œI’ll ring,” replied the receptionist. The call went through with the strange triple ring of most Italian telephones and by the fifth ring it was clear that nobody was going to answer.
    â€œI’m afraid he doesn’t seem to be in,” said the receptionist.
    â€œPerhaps I’ll call him again later,” said Holliday.
    Lazarus and Holliday meandered into the Stravinskij Bar and both of them ordered mineral water.
    â€œDid it work?” Holliday asked.
    â€œLike clockwork,” said Lazarus, taking the phone from his jacket pocket and looking at the small screen. The device was called a phone cloner. By standing close enough to a phone the cloning device could then “steal” the other phone’s signal. “Bingham is in a penthouse suite. Room 509.”
    â€œExcellent,” said Holliday. “Let’s go see what Bingham and his two thugs took out of the Vatican.”
    â€œWon’t that be illegal?” Lazarus said with a wink.
    â€œFrankly, I couldn’t give a shit.”
    The hallway on the fifth floor of the hotel was empty. Like most hotel rooms these days, it hadan electronic card lock. Holliday bypassed it with the heel of his shoe. The door banged open.
    â€œWe’ve got maybe three minutes before security comes to the rescue,” said Lazarus.
    â€œMore than enough time,” said Holliday.
    They began to search. At the one minute, forty second mark Lazarus withdrew a red plastic mailing tube out of the closet. It was sealed at both top and bottom with a cap.
    â€œShall we open it?” Lazarus asked.
    â€œWhy not?” replied Holliday.
    â€œHere,” said Lazarus, handing over the long red case. “The honor is yours.”
    Holliday took the tube, snapped off one of the caps and shook the contents onto the bed. There were two rolled canvases and a brown envelope folded outside them, everything held together with a rubber band. Holliday slipped off the rubber band and Lazarus came closer. He rolled the paintings open while Holliday picked up the envelope.
    â€œDear God in heaven!” Lazarus said, looking down at the two paintings lying side by side on the bed below him.
    â€œWhat is it?” said Holliday.
    â€œThe one on the left is
The Stone Breakers
by Gustave Courbet and the other one is Caravaggio’s
Saint Matthew and the Angel
.”
    â€œWhat’s so special about them?” Holliday asked. “You sound like you popped a heart valve.”
    â€œBecause neither one of these paintings exists anymore. They were both destroyed during World War II bombings.”
    â€œShall we keep ’em or take ’em?” Holliday said.
    â€œLeave them,” Lazarus said. “I’d like to see where this trail goes.”
    Holliday held up the brown envelope. “I’ll tell you one thing,” said Holliday. “Miss Hannah Kruger of 104 Jasmine Street in Southfield, Wisconsin, can tell us a thing or two, but for now let’s get the hell out of here.”

P ART T WO
    CRAQUELURE

9
    Hannah Kruger, once known as Hannah Krugerovich Alevsky, headed out of the fine arts building of Caldwell College, went around the Gould Library and cut across the Bald Spot, then took a shortcut between the Laird Stadium and the residences. She checked for traffic, crossed the road and stepped onto the narrow footbridge across Cannon Creek to the residential side of the town. A few minutes later, she was on tree-lined