The Templar's Quest Part 6

In that instant, she lost all sense of gravity. Suddenly weightless.

Oh, no ... I think I'm dead.

13.

Sixth Arrondiss.e.m.e.nt, Paris, France Ivo Uhlemann gleefully took his opponent's queen.

The field his, the battle won, he logged off the computer. Pushing the gilded Louis XV salon chair away from the desk, he rose to his feet. The sudden motion cost him, a bolt of pain bursting free and radiating to the back of his spine. Shuddering, Ivo placed a stabilizing hand on top of the desk, fighting the urge to gasp, well aware that a large intake of air would only intensify the agony.

Long moments pa.s.sed, the pain finally ebbing to a tolerable level.

Ivo glanced at his right hand, palm still pressed against the smooth inlaid cherry desktop. Noticing the raised blue veins and splotchy, tissue-paper-like skin, he frowned. If only the body kept pace with the mind. Yet another battle he had to wage.

Chaos, destruction and death, the sum of each man's journey through life. Ivo first experienced the brutal trinity at a tender age. Even now, all these years later, he could still vividly recall that night in 1943 when British RAF pilots rained deadly bombs on Berlin's sleeping neighbourhoods. An act of callous savagery, thousands were immolated alive, with Ivo's own grandparents among the victims. But to the Allies utter disbelief, Berliners rose up from the ashes, Phoenix-like, the firebird heroically transformed into a Reichsadler, the proud eagle of the Reich.

Seized with patriotic fervour, his own spirit burnished in the flames, Ivo straight away joined the Hitler-Jugend. Eleven years and three days of age, he proudly wore the black shorts, long-sleeved brown shirt and peaked cap. And though he couldn't fully grasp the meaning of the slogan 'Blood and Honour', he nonetheless shouted it with great ferocity at war rallies. a.s.signed to an anti-aircraft crew, he was trained to use a flak gun. Bursting with pride, his mother Berthe showered him with adoring kisses. His father, stationed at the SS Headquarters in Wewelsburg, sent letters commending Ivo for his unparalleled bravery.

That bravery was put to a gruelling test seventeen months later when Ivo was issued a steel helmet, a Panzerfaust anti-tank weapon and a bolt-action rifle with one hundred rounds of ammunition. Marching in perfect unison, heel to toe as they'd been trained, Ivo and his regiment of Hitler-Jugend were ordered to take up a position on the Pichelsdorf Bridge. Part of the last German defence, the 'boy brigade' was to halt the Russian advance and prevent the enemy from entering Berlin.

For two gore-filled days, they held their ground. Of the five thousand boys sent to the bridge, only five hundred remained standing at the end of those horrific forty-eight hours. Just as the jubilant Red horde stormed across the bridge, Ivo was severely wounded in a mortar blast.

When he finally regained consciousness in an American field hospital, the Fuhrer was dead, Germany a conquered nation. Bandaged from head to foot, immobilized in a traction device, Ivo was filled with shame.

If I'd only fought harder. Fired more bullets. Killed more Russians.

Six months would pa.s.s before he was discharged from the military hospital with a wooden cane, a Hershey's chocolate bar and a silver Reichspfennig coin. Oskar Baader, a grey-haired, bespectacled man who'd been his father's colleague in the physics department at Gottingen University, met him at the hospital gate. On the train ride to Gottingen, the professor informed Ivo that his mother had been killed during the Russian attack on Berlin and that his father, who'd risen within the SS to the rank of Oberfuhrer, was a wanted fugitive. The shock more than he could bear, Ivo burst into tears.

As the months pa.s.sed, Ivo settled into his new life in Gottingen with the elderly Baader couple, marching drills and combat practice replaced with violin lessons and science tutorials. Eventually the sorrow faded. In its stead was a wide-eyed curiosity as encoded letters from his father postmarked from such far-flung places as Lisbon, Genoa and Cairo began to arrive at the flat.

With each encoded letter, more and more of an incredible tale began to unfold. According to the missives, his father had been a.s.signed to a highly-cla.s.sified research project under the auspices of the Ahnenerbe. The project, which involved an ancient relic known as the Lapis Exillis, had been sanctioned by the Fuhrer himself. Even more amazing, although the war had ended and the surviving members of the Ahnenerbe were either on the run or facing a military tribunal in Nuremberg, Friedrich Uhlemann still actively sought the relic. His father claimed that this relic contained unique properties that could be used to harness a heretofore untapped energy.

Hearing the ormolu clock on the mantel chime the new hour, Ivo turned his head. One o'clock. He a.s.sumed the Dark Angel had detonated the plastic explosive. With Katsumi Bauer removed from the equation, the American commando could be lured back to the bargaining table. Every man had his price. Too much was at stake. Encrypted clues to the whereabouts of the Lapis Exillis were engraved on the Montsegur Medallion.

They had only five days to find it.

Five days until the Heliacal Rising of Sirius when the great star would appear on the eastern horizon just before sunrise. Five days until that powerful energy burst that could change the course of history.

Would change it, provided they located the Lapis Exillis.

Ivo again glanced at the clock, silently d.a.m.ning the reminder that each minute, each hour, each day lost could not be regained.

Only five days.

A trained physicist, Friedrich Uhlemann had gone to his grave convinced that the ancient technology contained within the Lapis Exilis could have saved the Reich from total annihilation.

Ivo, also a trained physicist, knew that it wasn't too late. If found, the Lapis Exilis could still save the Reich.

14.

'Here. This should help.' Finn offered Kate a chipped Redskins mug filled with hot coffee and a slug of Jameson's whiskey. 'You're d.a.m.ned lucky to have landed in that barberry bush.'

Tersely shaking her head, Kate refused the pick-me-up. Instead, she continued to sit on the sofa with her arms wrapped around her chest, hands coiled around her elbows. Since the blast, the woman hadn't uttered a single word. They'd just entered the second hour of radio silence.

'Drink it, Kate. The booze will do you good. I don't want you fainting on me again.' He b.u.t.ted the mug against her chest, forcing her to accept the spiked coffee.

Her expression blank, Kate stared straight ahead as she obediently took a sip.

She must have had a sheltering angel standing sentry at the front door. Because, somehow, against all odds, she'd managed to survive the blast relatively unscathed. Scratches, bruises, minor abrasions and a swollen right knee; the kind of injuries that always hurt worse the morning after.

Immediately after the explosion, he'd thrown Kate over his shoulder and hauled a.s.s to Wisconsin Avenue. Needing to find a hidey-hole on the double-quick, he'd flagged down a pizza delivery guy and paid him a hundred bucks to drive them to a houseboat docked at the Gangplank Marina. While he didn't personally know Major James Bukowski, the owner of the houseboat, he'd once overheard the c.o.c.ky officer bragging about his waterfront digs. Since Bukowski was currently deployed in Afghanistan, the trespa.s.s had been child's play. He'd even told the neighbour that 'Jimbo' gave him the key.

For the time being, they were safe.

Still nameless, still faceless, the enemy possessed the stealth of a well-trained Delta unit. If it wasn't for the freaking suit jacket, Kate would have been killed in the explosion.

'If you speak of this matter to anyone, they will be targeted for execution.'

Warning issued. Action taken. Clearly these rat b.a.s.t.a.r.ds did not make idle threats.

p.r.i.c.ked by a guilty conscience, Finn turned away from Kate and walked over to the window. Pulling the drawn curtain aside, he watched silently as drops of rain plopped against the varnished deck before congealing into plump translucent beads. Scanning the marina, his gaze ricocheted between the dark waters of the Washington Channel and the wood-planked dock.

He let the curtain fall back into place.

'Listen, Kate, I need to know ...' Finn hesitated, trying to think of a tactful way to phrase the question. Realizing there wasn't one, he got right to it. 'Is there anyone a parent, a sibling, a close friend that these murdering thugs can go after next?'

The question hung silently between them, Kate, no doubt, wrapping her dazed mind around this new, unforeseen danger.

'My parents are vacationing in j.a.pan,' she said at last. 'I have no siblings. And I'm not altogether certain, but I believe that my ex-husband is conducting field research in Papua New Guinea. As for friends, well, let's just say that I've been something of a loner these last two years. After the divorce, Jeffrey retained custody of our social circle.'

Finn breathed a sigh of relief. One less headache.

'I just want you to know, Kate, that I'm truly sorry. I never meant to put you in harm's way.'

'I would prefer, Sergeant, that you not insult me with a phony apology. All along you've been using me. And now, because of you, all of my worldly possessions have been reduced to this.' Kate held her handbag aloft. Somehow, miraculously, she'd managed to keep it slung across her chest during the explosion.

About to inform her that with a death sentence hanging over her head, being homeless was the least of her worries, Finn thought better of it. Instead, he seated himself next to her on the sofa.

'You might find this hard to believe, but I know what you're going through,' he said without preamble, heartfelt confessions not his strong suit. 'No matter what, you've got to stay strong. Like a sapling. Bend. Don't break. Got it?'

The pep talk met with a derisive snort. 'Please spare me the sappy sentiments. I want you to tell me, right now, why someone tried to kill me. For G.o.d's sake! All I did was give you a ride to the emba.s.sy.'

'My guess? They think that I took you into my confidence.'

'About what?'

'Unfortunately, I'm not at liberty to '

'Cut the c.r.a.p, Finn! Either you tell me what's going on or I will pick up the phone and call the police.'

While Kate's fury was completely justified, Finn debated how much he should, or could, reveal. The mission in Al-Qanawat had been black ops and Ah, f.u.c.k it.

Whether she knew or didn't know, Jutier's henchmen would still be gunning for her. Better that she face the enemy with eyes wide open.

'You might find this hard to believe, but the men who set the explosive device at your house are after a thirteenth-century relic. And they'll stop at nothing to get it.'

Her expression said it all Kate Bauer thought that he was a lying sack of s.h.i.t. 'Hard to believe? Try flat-out impossible. And even if I did believe you, which I don't, what does that have to do with you? Or me, for that matter.'

'See, it's like this ' Leaning forward, Finn braced his elbows on top of his thighs. 'Four months ago, I led a black ops mission into Al-Qanawat, Syria. The mission was straightforward: grab contraband vials of smallpox and get out of Dodge with no one the wiser. But when we arrived at the coordinates, there was no contraband smallpox. There wasn't even a terrorist cell. There was just some relic hidden inside a chapel.'

Hearing that, her eyes narrowed suspiciously; the woman was a hard sell. 'You need to be more specific. For starters, what did this relic look like?'

'It was a gold disk about yea big ' he curved both his hands to give her an idea as to its size. 'At the time I was royally p.i.s.sed that my team was being used; that we were sent into Al-Qanawat for the sole purpose of stealing a d.a.m.ned relic so a fat cat general could pad his retirement account. I'm a trained warrior, not Indiana Jones.'

'And what does the mission in Syria have to do with Fabius Jutier?'

'According to Jutier, he is or was a member of a group called the Seven. The group paid General Robert Cavanaugh to retrieve the Montsegur Medallion for them. When Cavanaugh failed to deliver as promised, they arranged for him to have a fatal car accident.'

Kate made a T with her hands, signalling a time-out. 'Back up a moment. What's the Montsegur Medallion?'

'That's the name of the Al-Qanawat relic. And the Seven is convinced that I have this Montsegur Medallion. That's why they had an a.s.sa.s.sin called the Dark Angel murder two Delta troopers from my old outfit and make it look like I killed 'em. Earlier today, a couple of CID agents showed up at the Pentagon and accused me of doing just that.'

Closing his eyes, Finn ma.s.saged his sockets with his thumb and middle finger, envisioning the glossy 8 x 10 crime scene photos that the two CID agents had shown to him. He didn't particularly want those images floating around inside his head. It made him think about the horror, the sheer agony, that his two friends endured before the final coup de grace.

He opened his eyes. Then shook his head to clear the gory images from his mind's eye.

To his surprise, Kate placed her hand on his forearm. 'I'm sorry about what happened to your comrades.'

'Yeah, me too. I loved them both like brothers,' he told her, man enough to own up to his feelings. Still grappling with the brutal slaying, he was grateful for the condolence.

Removing her hand, Kate said, 'I'm confused ... why did the Seven frame you for murder?'

'They framed me for murder to force my hand. To get me to turn over the relic to them. According to the dead French dude, they've got DNA evidence that will prove my innocence. And to sweeten the deal, Jutier offered me a sign-up bonus of one million dollars.'

'But why, after offering you all that money, would Fabius Jutier turn around and kill himself?'

Finn shrugged. 'I have no friggin' idea.'

s.n.a.t.c.hing a plaid throw blanket from the arm of the sofa, Kate wrapped it around her shoulders. 'I'll be honest with you, Finn, it's an outrageous story. And, quite frankly, I'm having a hard time believing that these murders took place because some group erroneously thinks you have a gold relic in your '

'I never said that I didn't have the Montsegur Medallion.' As he spoke, Finn undid the top three b.u.t.tons on his shirt. Slipping a finger under the ribbed collar of his undershirt, he pulled out the heavy-a.s.s chain and medallion.

Eyes opening wide, Kate slumped against the sofa. 'Oh, my G.o.d.'

15.

'I suspect this is quite valuable,' Kate remarked, still stunned that Finn had been hiding the Montsegur Medallion on his person.

'Worth a decent chunk, given the price of gold.' Holding the pendant by its heavy chain, Finn slowly swung it back and forth.

'That's not what I meant.' Kate blinked several times in rapid succession, breaking free of the relic's hypnotic allure. 'The value of the metal, in and of itself, wouldn't account for the Seven's deadly fanaticism. An educated guess? These engraved images that decorate the medallion are what they're really after.'

One side of Finn's mouth turned down dismissively. 'Bunch of old symbols. Big whup.'

A trained cultural anthropologist, Kate knew that symbols were an encoding system employed by all cultures. Depicted literally in art and expressed figuratively in myth, symbols communicated man's relationship to the world around him.

'May I?' She held out her hand. Finn obliged the request, pa.s.sing the medallion to her.

One did not have to be a trained cultural anthropologist to know that there was a hidden meaning contained within the 'old symbols', as Finn had dismissively referred to them.

'Because an X divides the medallion into four different quadrants, I'm not sure if the symbols are meant to be read separately or as in integrated whole. What I do know is that these are symbols used in almost every culture of the world. The sun, as the eye of the world, symbolizes enlightenment. The moon refers to the dark side of nature.'

'Or the pa.s.sage of time.' When she glanced at Finn, he shrugged. 'You know, moon tides and lunar calendars.'

'Or the pa.s.sage of time,' Kate iterated, his observation very much on the mark. 'Stars usually designate the presence of some divinity.'

'Like the crown of stars on top of the Virgin Mary's head.'

She nodded, that being as good an example as any. 'As for the four strangely shaped "A"s, I haven't a clue. Perhaps they're a reference to the Four Ages of man or the four cla.s.sical elements of air, water, earth and fire. Regardless, all of these symbols are prosaic to an extreme. As you said, big whup. Which leads me to the medallion's flipside ' she turned the pendant over and showed him the three lines of engraved text. 'I suspect that this inscription is what the Seven deems valuable.'

Finn's head jerked. 'The rat b.a.s.t.a.r.ds killed my two buddies because of that?'

'Possibly,' she hedged.

'Okay, what the h.e.l.l does it say?'

'I have no idea. However, I'm fairly certain that the last line is written in medieval Latin. I don't recognize the language used for the first two lines. Clearly, the message was crafted to withstand the ages.' She tapped the relic with her index finger for emphasis.

'No kidding. Someone would have to melt this sucker to erase the inscription. So how is it that you know so much about symbols?'

'My, um, PhD is in cultural anthropology.'