Templar Chronicles: Judgment Day Part 13

Riley bit his tongue to keep him from saying anything and waited until the duty officer told Johannson the exact same thing the last flight had left half an hour before and Edinburgh was closed for the night.

Johannson slammed down the phone. "I don't know what bulls.h.i.t you're up to, Riley, but mark my words, if you cross me you will regret it. Now get out of my office and make sure you're on that first flight out of here in the morning. That's an order."

This time Riley caught the man's stare and held it, saying everything with his eyes that he couldn't say with his mouth. When Johannson looked away first, Riley allowed a small smile to cross his face.

"Understood, sir," he said and then turned and left the room, closing the door behind him as he went.

a.s.shole, he thought, as he headed off down the hall.

Orders or no orders, he had no intention of being on that flight.

When Cade came to, he found himself tied to a chair alone in an empty room.

His ankles were strapped to the chair's legs while his wrists had been secured to the arms in similar fashion. His bare hands hung off the ends of the arm supports, but he couldn't bend them back far enough to reach the knot just below his wrist on either side. Last but not least, a thick strap was wrapped several times around both his chest and the back of the chair.

He gave a few experimental tugs but whoever had done the work had done it properly. He wasn't going anywhere.

Turning away from his bonds, he gave the room around him the rest of his attention.

The walls and the floor were bare stone and the only light came from a portable lamp that was hanging from an ancient-looking sconce set in the wall. An iron grate was set in the floor a few feet in front of him and it didn't take much to imagine the kinds of things that had been sluiced between its bars over the years.

A wheeled cart was backed up against the wall directly in front of him. Several items were laid out for display across its top, which reminded Cade of some torturer's cart from a B-grade horror flick. Except that instead of knives and saws and devices intended to maim and kill, these particular items were completely benign, in some cases even innocuous.

A hair brush.

A child's doll.

A man's ring.

A fist-sized rock.

There were a few more, but Cade lost interest at that point. His head was pounding, no doubt a holdover from whatever they'd ga.s.sed him with, and he didn't know how long he was going to be alone, so he didn't have time to worry about a cart full of junk. He needed to start thinking of a way to get out of here.

He considered and then just as quickly discarded the idea of shouting out for help. For one, it might simply bring his captors running and two, given the room in which he found himself, he seriously doubted anyone other than Johannson and his flunkies were close enough to hear.

There was a door across the room at his back, which was apparently the only way in or out. If he could get free of his bindings, he might be able to slip away down the hall before anyone knew that he was missing.

He put his feet flat on the ground and tried to push himself upright to a standing position. If he could hobble over to the nearest wall he might be able to smash the chair against it enough times to bend it out of shape, loosening his bonds in the process and giving him a way to free himself.

His captors were a step ahead of him, though, for the legs of the chair were bolted to the floor. No matter how hard he pushed, he couldn't get them to come free.

Cade sat there fuming for a few seconds and then forced himself to refocus. The clock was ticking; every minute he spent tied up here meant he wasn't out there helping Gabrielle. He needed to find a way out.

Unfortunately, despite another ten minutes of careful consideration, he couldn't come up with any way of getting free of his bonds without outside help.

Looked like he was going to have to sit and wait for an opportunity to come to him.

It didn't take long. The door behind him opened and then clanged shut. A few seconds later the Preceptor came into view, with another man in tow. Cade didn't know the second man, but he recognized the cold indifference on the guy's face.

Things were about to get ugly.

The Preceptor didn't waste any time.

"Where is the Adversary?" he asked.

Cade didn't bother to look at him, never mind answer the man.

"What is your relationship with the Adversary?"

He kept his eyes on the other guy instead, knowing instinctively that he was a much bigger threat than the Preceptor.

"You secured various relics on behalf of the Necromancer, Simon Logan. Why?"

And so it went. Question and question, with Cade refusing to answer any of them.

Eventually, Johannson tried a new tact.

"I'm glad you don't want to do this the civilized way. What happens next will be much more interesting. For me, at least."

Dismissing Cade, he turned to the interrogator and told him to proceed.

Cade didn't want to be tortured any more than the next guy would and he felt his heart kick into overdrive as his mind flooded his body with adrenaline, readying him for the fight ahead. He intended to head b.u.t.t Hughes as soon as the other man drew close enough to do so and he would be more than happy to do the same to Johannson if given the chance.

Once again, the Preceptor surprised him however.

"Start with the ring, please," Johannson said.

Hughes picked the object up off the table and approached. Cade watched him come, expecting the interrogator to slip the ring onto his own finger so that he could do more damage when he began punching Cade in order to 'soften him up', so to speak, and was surprised when it didn't happen. He was even more surprised when Hughes reached out and began trying to pry Cade's left fist open.

That's when it hit him.

The Preceptor knew about his Gift!

Cade clenched his fist as tight as he could, but he was weakened from everything he had been through up to this point and was no match for the beefy interrogator. As Hughes pried open his fingers, Cade screamed in defiance.

A scream that quickly changed to one of horror as the memories attached to the ring began playing out in his mind's eye.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

As the sun came up the next morning Riley found himself standing within the choir of Rossyln Chapel staring up at the flying b.u.t.tresses overhead and waiting for the Seneschal to make contact.

Ferguson had been right; the renovation work on the chapel really made its beauty stand out. The building stood on a small hill above Rosslyn Glenn on the north bank of the River Esk and had originally been founded by William Sinclair, Earl of Caithness, as a Catholic collegiate church known as the collegiate Chapel of Saint Matthew. Riley knew that it was one of three places of worship built by Sinclair at Rosslyn the others being the chapel inside Rosslyn Castle and the now-decaying Rosslyn Cemetery. Services were brought to an abrupt end at the chapel in 1560, when the Scottish Reformation overran the country. The building had lain fallow and open to the elements until the late 1860s when it was reopened at the order of James Alexander, 3rd Earl of Rosslyn, for services for the Scottish Episcopal Church.

In recent decades rumors had surfaced about the chapel's connection to the Templars. Several of those rumors were actually near the mark, though the public didn't know it, and the Order made sure things stayed that way.

The interior of the chapel was decorated with more than 110 Green Man images carvings of human faces with greenery all around them a symbol that Riley always found to be a rather unusual choice for a Catholic place of worship given their usual a.s.sociation with deities of fertility and rebirth. He wandered the interior while he waited, pa.s.sing the time by examining several of the unique carvings, and was in the midst of taking a closer look at one in a bay along the north wall when the entire carving suddenly rotated 180 degrees.

Riley jumped back in surprise, which turned out to be a fortunate move because the granite slab he had been standing on chose that moment to slide to the left, revealing a staircase descending into the ground beneath the chapel floor.

A voice Riley recognized spoke out of the darkness below.

"Let's move, Captain. We don't have all day."

Ferguson.

Riley did as he was told.

He hustled down the steps and found himself standing in a tunnel hewn from solid stone. The Seneschal stood waiting a few feet deeper in the pa.s.sage and as Riley looked on he reached out and manipulated something on the wall beside him. A grinding sound filled the air around them and the light from the chapel above slowly faded as the stone slid back into place with a gentle thud.

There was a click and a light blossomed in the darkness from the camper's lantern that the Seneschal was holding in one hand.

"This way," he said, "we don't have much time," and without waiting for an answer he turned and headed down the tunnel at a brisk pace.

Riley hustled to catch up.

There were alcoves on either side of the tunnel and as they headed down its length Riley could see that each one appeared to be a burial chamber, complete with stone sarcophagi. With a start he realized that they must be in the original crypt, the entrance of which many had thought long since lost to history. Several generations of the Sinclair family were buried here and back in 1837, at the death of the 2nd Earl, Riley knew that the chapel had been extensively searched for over a week in an effort to find the entrance to this very place without any luck. Unable to find it, the Earl had been buried in the Lady Chapel, a smaller room off the main structure, alongside his late wife.

Apparently, the crypt hadn't really been lost at all.

At least, not to the Templars, Riley thought.

They had been walking for nearly ten minutes before the Seneschal broke the silence.

"My apologies for last night," he said. "I would have liked to have had the chance to speak with you, but events are moving faster than I antic.i.p.ated. If we don't act now, we might miss the opportunity to act at all."

Events are moving faster than antic.i.p.ated? Riley thought. What events? And what, exactly, had been antic.i.p.ated?

He opened his mouth to ask but the Seneschal wasn't finished.

"Commander Williams has been under Preceptor Johannson's control for almost twenty-four hours now. Thanks to the Grand Master's order declaring Williams persona non grata, it's going to take time to get him released. Normally I would prefer to take the official route, but Johannson has already begun subjecting Williams to what he's calling advance interrogation techniques in an effort to get him to reveal what he knows about the Adversary and I'm afraid Williams won't last very long."

Riley didn't need a dictionary to know that "advance interrogation techniques" was just a polite term for torture. Nor was it hard to imagine Johannson subjecting Cade to repeated water boarding sessions and other methods of persuasion. He felt his blood boil at the thought of his friend in that a.s.shole's hands.

"We've can't just leave him there! We've got to do something!"

The look Ferguson shot in his direction seemed to ask, "What on earth do you think we're doing now?" and Riley sheepishly held up a hand in apology.

The last thing he wanted to do was alienate his only ally.

Ferguson went on. "Williams knows where to go from here. It is your job to get him out of the commandery and away from Johannson and his cronies. Think you can handle that?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good."

Ferguson stopped, glanced around as if a.s.suring himself that he was in the right place, and then reached out and began running his fingers over the wall directly to his right.

Riley looked on curiously, wondering what the heck he was looking for and how it was going to help Cade, when suddenly the older man gave a mumbled, "Aha!" and the wall in front of them slid smoothly to the left.

Light shone into the tunnel from the hallway beyond.

Ferguson turned to him, his expression grave. "You'll find Commander Williams in the left-hand cell at the very end of the hall, door code 5839. The guards have been taken care of, but you've only got about ten minutes before they come to so you'll have to move quickly." He pulled a small bundle of something made of cloth out of his pocket, handed it to Riley, and then guided him by the arm out into the hallway beyond, saying, "You have to get Williams out of here, no matter what. Quickly now!"

A bit dazed by the suddenness of it all, Riley glanced down to see that he was holding a very thin, skin-colored pair of cotton gloves. He recognized them as the kind that Cade wore on a daily basis to keep his psychometric ability from overwhelming him with unwanted emotional feedback.

If the Seneschal was giving him a spare set of gloves, then that meant...

The cold hand of fear reached out and seized his gut in its iron grip, preventing him from completing the thought. He looked up, intending to ask the Ferguson if his suspicions were correct, but the slab was already halfway closed and all he had time to do was catch the other man's gaze for split-second before it fully closed, leaving him looking at a seamless section of stone that gave no clue to the opening hidden there.

Sonofa...

When in doubt, follow orders. He turned and hurried down the hall until he reached the duty station a dozen yards ahead. It was from here that a pair of guards usually monitored the prisoners in the cells just beyond. Unsurprisingly, he found both men lying unconscious on the floor by their chairs. Half-drunk cups of coffee stood next to each of their stations and it wasn't hard for him to work out what had happened. Stepping over to the desk, he hit the b.u.t.ton that unlocked the steel gates leading to the cell block and hustled through them before had even they finished opening, making a beeline for the last cell on the left.

One look through the gla.s.s enclosure was all it took to confirm Riley's worst fears.

Cade lay face-down on the floor in the middle of his cell, shaking uncontrollably. Riley could see that Cade's left hand was bare and was resting palm-down against the stone floor beside him, no doubt the reason for Cade's jerking about. Whatever Cade was seeing through his Gift, it wasn't good.

Riley punched the code into the lock 5893 and grabbed the handle, waiting for the light to turn green.

It beeped but the indicator remained stubbornly red.

"Come on!" Riley growled at it and tried again.

5-8-9-3.

Beep!

"Come on, you f.u.c.ker!"

He slammed his palm against the gla.s.s in frustration, reached out a third time to try again, and then stopped himself as he remembered a crucial fact.

Three false entries and the combination electronically scrambles itself, requiring a supervisor's override to get it open.

He'd already blown two of his three attempts.

Riley glanced at Cade convulsing on the ground less than ten feet in front of him and then quickly looked away, knowing that wasn't going to help.

Focus, man, focus. You can do this!

He took a couple of deep breaths and then went back over what the Seneschal had said in his mind.