Page 159 of The Grey Wolf
And from the phone a tiny “Oh, shit.”
“What do you mean he refuses to see me?” Lacoste demanded, though the meaning could not have been clearer.
“Did you expect anything else?”
She was standing in the large courtyard garden of Grande Chartreuse facing the head of the lay monks.
Isabelle took a deep breath. He was right, of course. It would have been a miracle if Brother Robert, afraid of beige, had agreed to meet her. Still, she was far from certain this smug young man had tried very hard, if at all.
With his long face and burlap smock and straw hat, he looked likeone of those sad donkeys fromDon Quixote. Though he’d been given just enough power, by the Abbot of this monastery, if not by God, that he managed to also be snooty. A haughty ass.
“You’re the first women to cross that threshold since the monastery was built,” said the lay monk. “I think you have gone far enough.”
He clearly meanttoo far.
She rolled her shoulders and flexed her neck, to release the tension. Confrontation did no good and would only make this man dig his hooves in further.
“If I can’t see him, can you take him a message?”
“No.”
As she looked at his stubborn, mulish face, Isabelle tried to understand where he was coming from. She saw herself, saw the situation, through his eyes.
The sudden appearance of strangers, never mind two women, in their forecourt, having breached the wall, must have been a shock. His job, as head of the lay monks, was to stand between the Carthusians and the outside world.
He was just doing his job. As was she.
“What would you suggest?” She stepped back both physically and figuratively.
“That you leave.”
She smiled. “Unfortunately we can’t. We’ve come a long way, and Frère Robert has information we need to save perhaps thousands of lives.”
“I can ask him to pray that your situation is resolved and those lives saved, but that’s all.”
“I imagine he’s already praying for that.”
“Then there you have it. His prayers will be answered, though the answer is not always yes.”
It was the dismissive justification Isabelle had heard from clerics all her life. It covered a multitude of sins.
“Is it possible,mon frère, that we are the answer to his prayers?” It had worked once, why not again?
“I doubt it.”
“Why?”
“Because if you were, I’d let you in.”
Sister Irene rolled her eyes. She wished she’d thought of that.
“Goodbye.” The lay monk held his arm out toward the gate. He held all the power and knew it. Lacoste had nothing. Except…
She looked at Dussault, who raised his bushy brows. Reluctantly reaching into his breast pocket, he withdrew an official-looking envelope and handed it to her.
“This might help,” said Lacoste. “Maybe not you, but us. As you say, the answer to your prayers isn’t always yes.”
The lay monk took it and read the search warrant. Then he turned and walked away.
