Read Online Black Order by James Rollins - Free Book Online Page A

of the principals involved—then he was finished, opening up a long weekend to spend with Rachel.
    The thought of her smile eased the knot that had developed between his shoulder blades.
    Finally, across the street, a bell chimed. The door to the shop opened and the security gate began to roll up.
    Gray sat straighter, surprised by who opened the shop. Black braided hair, mocha complexion, wide almond-shaped eyes. She was the one who had followed him earlier this morning. She even wore the same zippered sweater-jacket and green, battered pack.
    Gray scooped out a bundle of bills and left it on the café table, glad to get out of his head and back to the business at hand.
    He strode across the narrow street as the girl finished securing the gate. She glanced over at him, unsurprised.
    “Let me guess, mate,” she said in crisp English, flavored with a British accent, eyeing him up and down. “American.”
    He frowned at her abrupt manner. He hadn’t said a word yet. But he kept his face mildly curious, offering no clue that he knew she had been following him earlier. “How did you know?”
    “The way you walk. Stick up your bum. Gives all you away.”
    “Is that so?”
    She locked the gate. He noted she wore several pins on her jacket: a rainbow Greenpeace flag, a silver Celtic symbol, a gold Egyptian ankh, and a colorful assortment of buttons with slogans in Danish and one in English that read GO LEMMINGS GO . She also wore a white rubber bracelet with the word HOPE stamped into it.
    She waved him out of her way but bumped past him when he didn’t move quick enough. She walked backward across the street. “Shop don’t open for another hour. Sorry, mate.”
    Gray stood on the stoop, glancing between the shop door and the girl. She crossed the street and headed to the café. Passing the table he’d just vacated, she picked up one of the bills Gray had left and went inside. Gray waited. Through the window, he watched her order two large coffees and pay with the pilfered bill.
    She returned, a tall Styrofoam cup in each hand.
    “Still here?” she asked.
    “Don’t have anywhere else to be at the moment.”
    “Shame.” The girl nodded to the closed door and lifted both hands. “Well?”
    “Oh.” Gray turned and opened the door for her.
    She brushed inside. “Bertal!” she boomed—then glanced back at him. “Are you coming inside or not?”
    “I thought you said—”
    “Bollocks.” She rolled her eyes. “Enough with the act. Like you didn’t see me earlier.”
    Gray tensed. So it wasn’t just coincidence. The girl had been following him.
    She called into the shop. “Bertal! Get your tail over here!”
    Confused and wary, Gray followed her into the shop. He stayed by the door, ready to move if necessary.
    The shop was as narrow as an alley. To either side, rows of bookshelves rose from floor to ceiling, crammed with all manner of book, volume, text, and pamphlet. A few steps inside, two glass cabinets flanked the center aisle, plainly locked. Inside were crumbling leather-bound books and what looked like scrolls bound in acid-free white tubes.
    Gray searched deeper.
    Dust motes floated through the space in the slanting morning sunlight. The air tasted old, moldering as much as the shop’s paper stock. It was like much of Europe. Age and ancientness were a part of everyday life here.
    Still, despite the decrepitude of the building, the shop shone with a welcoming grace, from the stained-glass wall sconces to the handful of ladders that leaned against bookshelves. There was even an inviting pair of overstuffed chairs near the front window.
    And best of all…
    Gray took a deep breath.
    No cats.
    And the reason why became apparent.
    Around one of the shelves, a large shaggy shape lumbered into view. It looked like a Saint Bernard cross, an elderly fellow with baggy brown eyes. The dog sullenly shambled toward them, hobbling on its left front limb. The paw on that side was a gnarled lump.
    “There you