-eight. Verse eleven.
Although Silas did not recall the exact contents of verse eleven by heart, he knew the
Book of Job told the story of a man whose faith in God survived repeated tests.
Appropriate, he thought, barely able to contain his excitement.
Looking over his shoulder, he gazed down the shimmering Rose Line and couldn't
help but smile. There atop the main altar, propped open on a gilded book stand, sat an
enormous leather-bound Bible.
Up in the balcony, Sister Sandrine was shaking. Moments ago, she had been about to flee
and carry out her orders, when the man below suddenly removed his cloak. When she
saw his alabaster-white flesh, she was overcome with a horrified bewilderment. His
broad, pale back was soaked with blood-red slashes. Even from here she could see the
wounds were fresh.
This man has been mercilessly whipped!
She also saw the bloody cilice around his thigh, the wound beneath it dripping. What
kind of God would want a body punished this way? The rituals of Opus Dei, Sister
Sandrine knew, were not something she would ever understand. But that was hardly her
concern at this instant. Opus Dei is searching for the keystone. How they knew of it,
Sister Sandrine could not imagine, although she knew she did not have time to think.
The bloody monk was now quietly donning his cloak again, clutching his prize as he
moved toward the altar, toward the Bible.
In breathless silence, Sister Sandrine left the balcony and raced down the hall to her
quarters. Getting on her hands and knees, she reached beneath her wooden bed frame
and retrieved the sealed envelope she had hidden there years ago.
Tearing it open, she found four Paris phone numbers.
Trembling, she began to dial.
Downstairs, Silas laid the stone tablet on the altar and turned his eager hands to the
leather Bible. His long white fingers were sweating now as he turned the pages. Flipping
through the Old Testament, he found the Book of Job. He located
