Chapter 11
“Who are you?” Brother Hasani faced the gunmen who stormed into the monastery. “What do you want here?”
Michael recognized them as the same two men who attacked him in Florence. One was middle-aged, stocky, and of medium height. His dark brown hair was combed straight back off his forehead, falling into a curly cluster in back. The other appeared younger and thinner, and wore his hair clipped short. The monks they held were young men, cowering with their hands raised. “We meet again,” Michael said, moving closer. “Did you follow me here?”
“We aren’t here to hurt you or them,” the taller, heavier gunman said. “We just want the pearl.”
“Pearl? What pearl?” Hasani cried. “We’re monks. We have no riches.”
“He’s right,” Michael said, facing the big man. “They don’t have any rich
