Page 128 of Beloved Sacrifice

“Yes.”

“I plan to be somewhere in Africa when your Grandmother finds out.”

Marek winced. She would not be best pleased.

“It’s time to discuss why we are here.” Franco’s accent was more pronounced. It was a good disguise. If Tristan tried to describe the Grand Master, the accent would be the most memorable and defining feature. Though it was more than likely that the Admirals had information about who the Grand Master was, if only the family name and a list of likely candidates.

“Mr. Knight. Do you have the authority to accept information on behalf of the Masters’ Admiralty.”

“Accept information, yes. I cannot speak on behalf of my Admiral or the other Admirals.”

“It has come to our attention that a great wrong was done to your society. A wrong which must be made right. My goal as the Grand Master is to right the wrongs of the past. It is my hope that, in telling you what we have found, we will open a dialogue and restore the relationship that once existed between our organizations.”

Tristan’s body language radiated tension. “I cannot make promises, but will relay this information, Grand Master.”

“Mr. Anderson. Please tell him everything that you’ve discovered.”

Weston started speaking in a calm voice, starting with the main point: The Trinity Masters had been responsible for the sinking of the Esperanza, and had brought back the material contents of the ship to the U.S., where a splinter group of members who sympathized with the Nazi cause had taken the art and antiques and sold it to further their personal wealth. This was something the Grand Master had learned only recently.

Tristan’s right hand moved across his body, as if reaching for the sword that he wasn’t wearing. “The lost children. All this time, you were looking for the lost children?” He spoke to Weston.

“I didn’t know that until Poole. You knew I was researching art. My parents…my parents are members of the purists. I knew they were protecting something bigger than the art itself, but I didn’t realize what it was until we got the recording. I had to come to Boston to find supporting evidence.”

“Please show him,” Franco said, with perhaps a touch too much drama in his voice.

Devon brought over the folio. “This was found hidden in the…storage area where the art was. Most of the art was gone, but at some point, this was hidden.”

“My brother hid it,” Weston said. “He hid it because he knew it was important and didn’t want our parents to get their hands on it.”

Tristan abruptly slumped. “Bloody fuck. This is going to be a right mess.”

“I know, man. I know.”

“With the help of Mr. Anderson, we know the identity of all the remaining purists. Tomorrow, we will dispatch teams to bring them in.”

“Bring them in?” Tristan asked.

“Yes.”

“We don’t believe in summary execution.” Tristan looked around. “Did you execute Rose?”

“No, I just told you we got married, you dumb shite,” Weston said.

“Ms. Hancock is otherwise engaged,” Franco intoned.

In reality, she was on a laptop searching for information as to the exact whereabouts of all the suspected purists, and calling the strike teams to let them know to clear their calendars.

“I will relay all of this information. I suspect they’ll want whatever evidence you have.”

“We will of course provide it, along with any of the art still in the possession of the purists.”

Tristan turned to Weston. “Are you going after your parents?”

He nodded in a single, tight motion.

Tristan reached over and clapped Weston on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, man. For all of it. I’d come with you, but I have a message to deliver.”

“Thanks. You’ve been a good friend.”

---