There was a pause and when Lilith spoke again her tone changed. Less harsh, more cautious. “When Sir Guy LaRoque founded the Red Order he did so with the blessing of a priest from the Knights Hospitaller. Ever since then, each Scriptor has had a priest as his spiritual advisor.”

“And the current priest is part of the Order? And he is managing Charles LaRoque even though the young man is mentally unstable? That suggests that it is the priest who is the de facto head of the Red Order.”

“Yes.”

“Who is this priest?”

“Arklight has been trying to figure that out for a long time,” said Lilith. “There are some anomalies in his file.”

“Such as?”

“Such as the fact that when we compare a four-month-old surveillance photo of him it is a perfect match to a photo from 1936 that was part of some church records recovered after the Second World War.”

“There are a number of ways to doctor a—”

“And both photos match paintings hanging in churches in northern Italy. One from 1897 and one from 1633.”

Aunt Sallie mouthed the words “Oh shit.”

“We also have reliable visual confirmation from an agent in Baghdad that the current priest died in the bombing along with Charles’s grandfather and the Tariqa council.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m not saying anything, St. Germaine.”

“I prefer ‘Church’ these days. Or ‘Deacon,’ that still works. I don’t really have a connection to ‘St. Germaine’ anymore. I’m sure we’re both adult enough to understand why.”

“Why not for once simply use your real name?” groused Lilith.

Church’s voice was very cold. “Do you really want to open that door? There are other skeletons in the same closet.”

Eventually Lilith said, “No.”

“Will you give me the name of the current priest? And the names of any of the others you know to have been associated with the Red Order?”

“You still don’t get it,” said Lilith. “There is only one name.”

“They … all adopt the same name?”

“That’s one theory.”

Church cocked his eyebrow at Aunt Sallie, who parked a haunch on the edge of the table and stared at him over the lenses of her granny glasses.

“Give me the name.”

Lilith said, “Father Nicodemus.”

Chapter Forty-nine

Chapter Forty-Nine

On the Streets

Tehran, Iran

June 15, 11:22 a.m.

Ghost and I walked quickly through five or six streets lined with houses that had been left to crumble beneath the relentless Iranian sun. I saw a single sign with a notice about rezoning and impending construction, but it was at least five years old. The only life we encountered there were starving dogs who fled from Ghost’s warning growls, and a single vulture who sat on a telephone pole that had long ago been stripped of its wires. The vulture’s ugly, naked head swiveled slowly on its scrawny neck, watching us as we walked past.