THE CHURCH DOOR opened and the cortege appeared, the Baron and Marco close behind. The procession started through the graveyard to the family mausoleum. “Come on,” Ferguson said, “I want to see this.” The coffin was on a central dais and people walked around it slowly, paying their respects. The lid was half-open, the embalmed body of Kate Rashid revealed. The Baron reached it and paused, then he took something from his pocket, leaned forward and placed it on her breast. He moved forward, paused to glance at Ferguson, then continued. Dillon whispered, “What in the hell was that about?” They took their turn by the coffin, gazing down at Kate Rashid’s calm dead face, remarkably lifelike, thanks to the embalmer’s art. Dillon felt no emotion, or told himself he didn’t. What the Baron had left was a medal, scarlet and black, the German cross. They moved on. “How interesting,” Ferguson observed. “He’s awarded her his Knight’s Cross with Oak Leaves and Swords. There’s far more here than even we know about.”
