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.It was marked with a gentle accent, both Spanish and British."The job entailed a great deal more expense than was originally estimated.I'm raising the price to reflect this, nothing more." There was a short pause, and then the woman said, "Would you like an invoice for your tax return then? I told you the quote was only an estimate.It happens." Another pause, and then the woman said, "Excellent.As scheduled, then."I stared out at the lake, just taking in the view, and strained to hear anything else.Evidently the conversation was over.I checked around, but there weren't any people in sight moving around the harbor on a February weekday morning.I took a breath to steady myself, and moved closer to the ship.I caught a glimpse of motion through a window in the cabin, and heard a chirping sound.A cell phone rested on a counter beside a pad of hotel stationary.A woman appeared in the window dressed in a long gown of dark silk, and picked up the cell phone.She answered it without speaking and a moment later said, "I'm sorry.You've the wrong number."I watched as she put the phone down and casually let the nightgown slide to the floor.I watched a little more.I wasn't being a peeping Tom.This was professional.I noted that she had some intriguing curves.See? Professionalism in action.She opened a door, and a bit of steam wafted out, the sound of the water growing louder.She stepped in and closed the door again, leaving the cabin empty.I had an opportunity.I'd seen only one woman, and not well enough to positively identify her as either Anna Valmont or Francisca Garcia, the two remaining Churchmice.I hadn't seen the Shroud hanging from a laundry line or anything.Even so, I had the feeling I'd come to the right place.My gut told me to trust my spiritual informer.I made my decision and stepped up a short gangplank onto the Etranger.I had to move fast.The woman on the ship might not be a fan of long showers.All I needed to do was get inside, see if I could find anything that might verify the presence of the Shroud, and get out again.If I moved quickly enough, I could get in and out without anyone the wiser.I went down the stairs to the cabin with as much stealth as I could manage.The stairs didn't creak.I had to duck my head a bit when I stepped into the cabin.I stayed close to the door and checked around, listening to the patter of the water from the shower.The room wasn't large and didn't offer a bonanza of places to hide.A double bed took up nearly a quarter of the space in the room.A tiny washing machine and dryer were stacked one on another in a corner, a basket of laundry stowed atop them.A counter and kitchenette with a couple of small refrigerators used up most of the rest.I frowned.Two fridges? I checked them out.The first was stocked with perishables and beer.The second was a fake, and opened onto a cabinet containing a heavy metal strongbox.Bingo.The shower kept running.I reached out to pick up the strongbox, but a thought struck me.The Churchmice may have gotten themselves into a lot of trouble, but they'd evidently been good enough to avoid Interpol for a number of years.The hiding place for the strongbox was too clumsy, too obvious.I shut the fake fridge and looked around the room.I was starting to get nervous.I couldn't have much time left to find the Shroud and get out.Of course.I took a couple of long steps to the washer and dryer and grabbed the laundry basket.I found it under several clean, fluffy towels, an opaque plastic package a little larger than a folded shirt.I touched it with my left hand.A tingling sensation pulsed against my palm, and the hairs along my arm rose up straight."Damn, I'm good," I muttered.I picked up the Shroud and turned to go.A woman stood behind me, dressed in black fatigue pants, a heavy jacket, and battered combat boots.Her peroxide-blond hair was cut very short, but it did nothing to detract from the appeal of her features.She was elegantly pretty and pleasant to look at.The gun she had pointed at my nose wasn't pretty, though.It was an ugly old.38 revolver, a cheap Saturday-night special.I was careful not to move.Even a cheap gun can kill you, and I doubted I could raise a shield in time to do me any good.She'd taken me off guard.I'd never heard her coming, never sensed her presence."Damn, I'm good," the woman echoed, her accent high British, a touch of amusement in her voice."Put the package down."I held it out to her."Here
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