The receptionist jumped up to snatch the vase, the dog jumped to the floor and ran for the door, and the helpful woman dashed after her little pet. Everyone was reaching to help, picking up flowers and snatching papers from the expanding pool of water on the reception desk. Lucy also decided to help, picking up a clipboard that, she happened to notice, held a list of patients’ names with their room numbers. Bruneau, L. was at the top, assigned to room number 710. She carefully placed the clipboard on the counter, which was high and dry, unlike the desk behind it, and headed for the elevators.

Room 710 was easy to find. When the elevator doors slid open on the seventh floor, Lucy had an unobstructed view of the closed door, with the number clearly visible on a plastic square. She also had a clear view of the uniformed police officer seated on a chair beside the door, guarding it. Unwilling to draw attention to herself, she remained in place, and the doors slid closed and the elevator descended.

It was while she was on the elevator that something clicked and she suddenly remembered where she’d seen Malik. He was the young man she’d seen arguing in the Cavendish lobby with the older, gray-haired man and then angrily stalking off. And his companion Adil’s last name was Sadek, the same as the leader of Les Amis du Roi de l’Égypte, whom Richard had quoted in his news story. Could they be related?

Chapter Six

Chapter Six

Leaving the hospital, Lucy found herself walking by Notre-Dame and, acting on an impulse, decided to go in. Her first impression was of the darkness inside and the scent of old dust and burning candles. The medieval cathedral was a sharp contrast to the Community Church in Tinker’s Cove, with its white walls and large clear-glass windows, which allowed worshippers to see the green leaves and blue sky outside. Notre-Dame was dingy and crowded with sightseers, who followed a U-shaped circuit through the huge stone edifice. There were devout worshippers, too, kneeling in the various side chapels.

It seemed very strange to Lucy, who wondered at the immense effort involved in building the cathedral. How did the builders manage it, working in the thirteenth century, before cranes and power tools? she wondered. She thought of the incredibly strong hold faith must have had on medieval minds, faith that required people to create this tribute to Mary when they had so little and their lives were so miserable.

Of course, she thought, pausing before the crowned statue of Mary floating above a sea of flickering candles, they didn’t know how awful their lives were, having nothing to compare them to. They didn’t know about hot showers and Social Security and antibiotics; they knew filth and poverty and early death. The church, with its promise of eternal life, was their only hope.