18
Santiago de Compostela, Spain. May 20, 2.45PM
Jake arrived back at the airport in a Spanish police vehicle and bounded up the steps into the plane. Morgan lay back reading one of the Moleskine journals on the reclining seats.
“Coffee?” Morgan lifted the fresh mug at him nonchalantly. “Just made, still fresh in the pot.”
Jake grinned at her.
“Glad you were so worried about me. Nice diversion with the Holy Door. You should have seen the faces of the priests as you left, with me still swinging in the dome. All their worst nightmares come true.”
“I think the pilgrims will suffer with enhanced security from now on,” she replied with a smile, sitting forward on her chair. Jake sat down next to her.
“The police mentioned there was a stabbing in the crypt. Are you okay?”
“One of the Tha
