Read Online The Sword of the Templars by Paul Christopher - Free Book Online Page A

fact he was a spook, a member of Donovan’s Office of Strategic Services, the precursor to the CIA.” Broadbent paused. “Presumably he was more interested in protecting or discovering sources of intelligence than he was in recovering stolen artwork.”
    “You seem to know a great deal about my uncle.”
    “I made it my business to.”
    “Why?”
    “For one thing he was my father’s client.”
    “I don’t get this,” said Peggy. “If my grandfather stole the sword from your father, why would Grandpa have made your father his lawyer?”
    “They were friends,” said Broadbent. “From what I understand they had a great deal of shared history.”
    “I never heard him mentioned in any other context except being Uncle Henry’s lawyer,” said Holliday. “There was nothing in his correspondence that would lead me to believe that they were friends either.”
    “Then I guess you didn’t know your uncle very well,” replied Broadbent with a shrug. “The fact remains that you have something in your possession that rightfully belongs to my family.”
    “Prove it,” said Holliday, standing. Peggy followed suit. Broadbent remained in his chair.
    “You could make this very simple,” said the lawyer, sighing again. “You could simply sell the sword to me; it can’t have anything but a monetary value to you anyway. It would mean a great deal to my father.”
    “I thought he was non compos mentis,” said Peggy. “Alzheimer’s. What would he care?”
    “It would mean a great deal to me,” said Broadbent.
    “That’s the whole point,” said Holliday, smiling down at the lawyer. “I want to find out exactly why it would mean so much to you. Why you’d burn down somebody’s house to get it.” He turned on his heel and left Broadbent’s office, Peggy right behind him.
    They went back to the White Inn and ordered breakfast. Holliday had Eggbeaters and dry toast. Peggy had blueberry waffles topped with whipped cream, bacon, and home fries. They both drank coffee.
    Holliday watched her eat, awed by the young woman’s capacity for food.
    “You never gain an ounce, do you?”
    “Nope,” she answered, putting a piece of bacon slice atop a square of syrup-soaked waffle.
    “I hate you,” said Holliday fondly.
    “I’m your niece,” answered Peggy blithely, popping the food into her mouth and chewing happily. “You’re not allowed to hate me; it’s against the rules.”
    “You’re actually my second cousin once removed. They have different rules for that.”
    “Only in the Ozarks,” said Peggy. She scooped up some home fries.
    “I once had an insurance actuary tell me that there’s a freight train and a level crossing out there for all of us. One way or the other, it’s just a matter of time,” said Holliday. “Maybe you’d better ease off on the cholesterol.”
    “I can’t,” said Peggy. “I’m foolish youth, remember? I have a reputation to protect.”
    “You have whipped cream on your upper lip.”
    She wiped it off with her napkin.
    “What do we do about Broadbent?”
    “Right now?” Holliday said. “Nothing. He’s right. We don’t have any proof that he was involved with the fire.”
    “What about the guy you chased?”
    “Fredonia’s police force has one investigative sergeant. I’m not holding out a lot of hope.”
    “So we let it drop?”
    “No, we do what I said. We find out why Broadbent wants a thousand-year-old sword so badly.”
    After breakfast they went up to Holliday’s room and retrieved the sword, which he’d hidden under the mattress of his bed. He laid it out on the table beneath the window.
    “Okay,” said Peggy. “It’s an old sword wrapped up in an old flag. Other than the fact that Grandpa found it in Adolf’s living room, what significance could it have?”
    “Let’s begin at the beginning,” said Holliday, staring down at the sword. “Uncle Henry’s had the sword for more than half a century—why all the sudden interest now?”
    “Something