Shadow Tag Read Free

London’s Heathrow airport.
    He hadn’t waited long. Reilly’s flight from JFK had landed just half an hour before Malone’s short hop from Copenhagen, where he’d lived since handing in his creds and leaving the Justice Department over a decade ago. It was just enough time for a cup of coffee, a croissant and a quick trawl through e-mails and intel updates before they were reunited and driven into London in a car the embassy had sent for them.
    “Templars, huh?” Malone asked.
    “I thought that might pique your interest.”
    “I’m a bit rusty on the subject,” Malone chortled. “It’s been a while.”
    “Ten years. For us both.”
    Malone stared out the window for a moment as the car barreled down the M4 towards the city. Cloud cover the color of slate squatted overhead, threatening to unleash a torrent at any moment, but for now, the rain was holding off. In the distance ahead, a swathe of pink was livening up the horizon.
    “Weird, wasn’t it?” Malone asked.
    “What?”
    “Both of us getting sucked into two totally unrelated Templar situations within a few weeks of each other?”
    “And both having to do with ancient writings related to the origin of the faith.”
    “Seriously, what are the odds?”
    Reilly let out a small chuckle. “You couldn’t make it up if you tried.”
    “You had another run-in with their legacy a few years ago, right?”
    Reilly grimaced, remembering the events in Rome and in Turkey that followed Tess’s kidnapping at the hands of a particularly savage Iranian agent a few years after his first misadventure. “Yeah, lucky me. And there I was thinking there’s no way I could possibly get dragged into another Templar plot.”
    “And yet, here we are.”
    “Yep,” Reilly nodded. “Thanks for doing this.”
    “Anytime, buddy. So where are we with this anyway? Anything new since we spoke?”
    “No. You saw the transcripts.” He handed Malone the printouts of the relevant chatter. “We have no idea what they’re planning. But these guys are up to something, today, somewhere here in London.”
    Malone went over the transcript, his eyes pausing at something Reilly had already mentioned to him in his call to action. “‘The books?’ You think they might be after another old stash of gospels?”
    “Maybe.”
    Malone rolled his eyes. “I thought Constantine had them all burned back in the 4th century.”
    “His minions clearly didn’t do a great job with that. I don’t think we’re ever going to hear the last of them.”
    “Great,” Malone groaned. “Okay, so where do we start?
    “A Lebanese restaurant on Edgware Road,” Reilly said. He pulled out his smartphone and showed Malone an image stored on it. “The three phones GCHQ got the hits off are burner phones, they aren’t registered to anyone. But by tracking their cell movements over the last week, since the SIM cards went live, the eggheads came up with something.”
    Malone studied the map on the screen. It was a city map of London and had three lines of different colors snaking around the city. He pointed at where the lines intersected. “This is the place?”
    “Exactly,” Reilly said. “All three have been there at some point in the last week. Not at the same time. But they’ve all been there.”
    “Which doesn’t mean they’ll be going there again. Unless …”
    Reilly smiled. “Exactly. You’ve been out there. You know how addictive a great shawarma wrap is.”
    “And not easy to find.”
    “I’m betting these guys get hungry again. And when they do, we’ll make sure it’s their last supper.”
    Malone gave him a dubious look, pained by the pun.
    “I know, sorry,” Reilly concurred. “Anyway, we should be there in about fifteen minutes. Are you carrying?”
    “Can’t. Not officially.”
    “Here you go.” Reilly handed him a Glock 17 handgun, along with an extra magazine that housed seventeen nine-millimeter rounds. “I signed it out in my name. Try not to make too many holes