Shadow Ritual by Eric Giacometti, Jacques Ravenne Read Free Book Online Page B

even wore that look in death, after he had been shot in the gut. Helen didn’t know anything about liturgical chanting—she had no interest in religion—so she made up her own phrases and pulled them out in moments like this one.
    She had to think.
    Dawes had seen only one person in Rome, her school friend who worked at the embassy. Nobody else could have the documents. They had to be in the embassy, but she couldn’t go back there. She had failed in her mission.
    Helen left the room, slipping her passkey into her pocket. Ever since hotels had abandoned keys for magnetic-strip keycards, it was a child’s play to break into rooms. She had bought a little electronic encoding machine at a Chinese shop for a mere ten thousand euros. Now she could go wherever she wanted in any hotel in the world that hadn’t started using radio-frequency identification or another more secure system.
    She took the elevator down and slipped out unnoticed. She would wait until morning to report in.

11
    Jade had Marcas repeat himself.
    “The flesh falls from the bones,” he said. “It’s a sentence from a Freemason ritual referring to the murder of Hiram, the founder of the order.”
    “What does that have to do with this murder? Bring it down a notch so a simple layperson like me can understand. I gather you are a member of that group.”
    Marcas rubbed his cheek. He could already feel the stubble.
    “Three blows: to the shoulder, to the neck, and to the forehead, as in the legend of Hiram. You see, according to Masonic tradition, the architect who built King Solomon’s temple held powerful secrets. Three workers grew jealous of him. They conspired against him, and one night they set a trap.”
    Marcas could see the tension in Jade’s arms.
    “This is ridiculous!” she spit out. “Sophie just got murdered, and you’re reciting the Bible. I must be hallucinating.”
    “Let me finish. The first worker struck him on the shoulder. Hiram refused to talk and fled. The second worker hit the architect on the neck. He managed to escape again. But the third worker finished him off with a blow to the forehead.”
    Now she was listening.
    “This story is very important to us. It is highly symbolic. But there’s something else.”
    “What?”
    “These murders generally accompany a period of anti-Masonic persecution.”
    “There you have it—a conspiracy! You’re out of your mind.”
    “And you’re close-minded! For more than a century now, there have been murders such as this one. It’s always the same: a blow to the shoulder, a blow to the neck, and a blow to the forehead. It’s almost like marking the victims as martyrs.”
    “How do you know about these murders?”
    “I’ve heard about them at various lodges.”
    “And?”
    “This is undoubtedly a message.”
    “So do you have any idea who it’s from? You’ve got so many enemies.”
    “Most people who don’t like us aren’t enemies. They’re just ignorant.”
    Jade shook her head.
    “Go back to your stories and legends. I have a murder to solve, the murder of someone very dear to me. If she hadn’t joined your sect, she’d be alive.”
    “Don’t insult me,” Marcas said. “I don’t belong to a sect, and I don’t think your friend would have shared your point of view. Since you’re not interested in what I have to say, I’ll leave. I have my own cases to tend to.”
    His voice bounced off the palace walls, which had echoed so many other arguments and conspiracies since the time of the Farnese family.
    This time, Jade grabbed his arm, and it was Marcas who was glaring. He didn’t like this woman and wanted her to know it. “Special Agent Zewinski, your ignorance matches your incompetence. Remove your hand. It’s in your best interest.”
    She shot him a challenging smile. “What are you going to do?” she said. “Call your boyfriends to come over and put a spell on me?”
    Marcas’s anger rose two notches, but he didn’t show it. “Oh no, just the