A Matter of Degrees

by Alex Marcoux

  Jessie’s heart sank. How could she explain that she had Scottish Rite degrees to earn? That she had a job as a reporter? Or that she lived her life as a man? How could Taylor understand? The hard part for Jessie was that Taylor would understand. Jessie just wasn’t willing to compromise Taylor’s safety.

  “I’ll be there for Thanksgiving, Taylor. I promise.”

  * * *

  In the morning when Jessie woke, she questioned why she had been so willing to make the sacrifices that she had. For four months she had been involved in the Blue Lodge, and she had been unsuccessful connecting the group to Steve’s death. Other than the testosterone-heavy occult rituals, most of the men appeared to be decent.

  There was one custom within the Blue Lodge that Jessie found odd though. Although Masons frequently prayed from the Bible, they always extracted the name Jesus from the reference. In the Blue Lodge, and from what she was learning in the Scottish Rite higher degrees, all religions were considered equal, but Freemasonry was placed above all.

  Up until this point, Jessie had been disappointed in her discoveries of the higher degrees. She felt like she was becoming the princess of the royal secret, but she didn’t know what secret she was protecting.

  While masquerading as Brennan Keller, Jessie maintained electronic and telephone contact with her publisher and agent. She continued the plot development and research for The Ultimate Conspiracy. Over that summer, she had submitted a book proposal for the project to her publisher. She was disappointed when her submission was rejected, but Jessie was too invested in the project, so she continued writing The Ultimate Conspiracy using her brother’s life as the impetus of the story. Simultaneously, she submitted similar proposals to other publishers, and most recently, the rejection letters continued to pour in. Apparently, no one was interested in a conspiracy novel regarding the Freemasons.

  Now, Jessie was desperately homesick and she wanted to be with Taylor. Her confidence in her writing and new project marketability was shaken. Only three months away from reaching the thirty-second degree, Jessie had to constantly psych herself into continuing her charade. She couldn’t wait to reclaim her life as Jessie Mercer.

  * * *

  That Friday evening, Jessie had agreed to meet with Rachel for dinner. The women hadn’t seen each other in almost two months. A restaurant in Paramus, New Jersey, was selected for their get-together.

  “Sorry, I’m late,” Jessie said as she slipped into the booth across from Rachel. “I got a little lost.”

  “That’s okay.” Rachel studied Brennan. There was something different. “Are you okay? You don’t look well.”

  Jessie sighed. She leaned over the table toward Rachel, and whispered. “I’m tired, I’m homesick, and I’m afraid that my breasts are going to be permanently flat.”

  Although Jessie was very serious, Rachel started to giggle. At first, Jessie didn’t know how to react to Rachel’s response. She felt as if she were coming apart at the seams and now, her only friend found amusement in her misery. Then Jessie saw Rachel’s caring eyes, and she laughed herself.

  As Rachel sipped her wine, Jessie spotted an image on the inside of Rachel’s wrist. It was familiar. Jessie reached for her hand and the contact surprised Rachel with a start.

  “May I?” Jessie asked. Rachel surrendered her hand so Jessie could view the image. Jessie smiled when she recognized the symbol. “You have an ankh tattoo?”

  “It’s a birthmark.”

  “A birthmark?” Jessie looked closer. “How odd, it’s so close to an ankh.”

  “I’m not familiar with the symbol.”

  Jessie traced the dime-size birthmark. “Here’s the loop, and the cross is on the bottom. It’s the ancient Egyptian symbol for life.” Jessie was reminded of the ankh she had found when she visited Salem, Massachusetts, and the pendant that Taylor wore.

  Rachel changed the subject. “So how are you? Are you going to make it?”

  Jessie sipped her wine. “I’ve started the Scottish Rite. It’s a pretty grueling schedule. Every weekend I’m traveling all over to get the degrees in by January. But each degree has been a disappointment so far.”

  “How so?”

  “They keep promising that we’ll find the true light in the next degree. I’m up to the tenth degree and I haven’t seen any light. It’s just very frustrating.”

  “Can you finish by January?”

  “I think so. The alternative is that I would have to wait until June. I have no intention of being Brennan Keller next June.” Jessie sipped her wine. “I’ve got to get to Europe over Thanksgiving.”

  “Have you told Taylor what you’re doing?”

  “I told her that I’m working on a new project and I need to be in New York for research.” Jessie felt terrible that she had misled Taylor and didn’t want to talk about it. She changed the subject. “What have you been up to?”

  “Mostly reading and studying. I’ve had a number of very interesting discussions with Professor Kerry, the author of that article I told you about on the arks. I’m in the middle of a project on the ark and the Merovingian dynasty.”

  “The what?”

  Rachel shared with Jessie what she had learned, and after Jessie absorbed Rachel’s findings, she tried to summarize them. “So let me get this straight. Freemasonry is what links modern and ancient secret societies. The common thread is that they practice ancient Egyptian mysteries. But it’s unclear whether anyone really knows the ancient mysteries today.” She paused. “Now that would explain why I’m feeling like the princess of the royal secret.”

  “It is possible that members of the thirty-third degree have this knowledge.”

  “And you believe that the Knights Templar discovered that the Roman Catholic Church censored information regarding Jesus?”

  “Yes. The concept of the Trinity—the Father, Son and Holy Spirit—was not an original Christian concept. Jesus never taught it, but the Council of Nicaea adopted it in AD 325, establishing the foundation for the Nicene Creed. One year after that, the Roman Emperor Constantine ordered the confiscation of any material that conflicted with the new Trinity orthodoxy.”

  “But the Father, Son, and Spirit are the cornerstone of the Christian faith!”

  “I know, but it wasn’t a doctrine from Jesus. Man created the concept. Jesus actually never claimed to be the messiah. Before the church created the Trinity doctrine, Gnosticism flourished. And Gnostics professed to have an intuitive discernment of the mysteries of God. Gnosticism, where people sought personal inner enlightenment, was a fundamental part of the ancient mysteries. Up until the Council of Nicaea, reincarnation had been an acceptable doctrine of the church, but after that, it was considered a heresy.”

  Rachel paused to sip her wine, and then continued. “There’s sufficient evidence that shows Jesus studied in a secret brotherhood during his lost years. He was an Essene. The Essenes were the ancestors of Freemasonry. They were the followers of Pythagoras and sacred geometry. They were known to be keepers of the Covenant.”

  “The Covenant?” This caught Jessie’s attention.

  “That’s right. They were known to have the knowledge of the ancient mysteries, like the Gnostics. Some researchers believe that they were the guardians of Mystic Christianity, the original form of Christianity that was based upon the earliest mysteries. The Essenes were also known as mysterious healers, and actually very little was known about them until the Dead Sea Scrolls were found in 1947.”

  “Dead Sea Scrolls?”

  “In AD 70, when Rome advanced during the Jewish revolt, the Essenes hid their sacred manuscripts in jars in mountain caves. Between 1947 and 1960, almost 800 manuscripts were uncovered, 170 of them contain remnants of the Old Testament.

  “Seven of these scrolls were secured by an archeologist and published, but the rest of them were acquired from Jordan by the Rockefeller Archaeological Museum in Palestine. Some believe Israel controls them now, because Israel conquered the location where they were stored
during the Six Day War in 1967. Others believe the scrolls were destroyed. But based on the discoveries from the seven scrolls, historians believe that the Essenes had the purest ancient traditions.”

  Jessie was silent, trying to grasp the information. Then she broached another one of Rachel’s theories. “And you believe there’s sufficient evidence suggesting that Mary Magdalene was the wife or consort of Jesus? And they had children?”

  “Yes.”

  “You think the Roman Catholic Church was afraid of this Merovingian dynasty and was responsible for the assassinations of two kings? And you’re doing a report on it?”

  “Yes! I’ve kept this story quiet, so far.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  Her new spacious office normally provided plenty of sunlight, but the sun had set and dark had fallen, yet Jessie was still working. A halogen lamp lit the computer keyboard, where her fingers quickly typed. Earlier that day, she had learned that Iraq had, once again, advanced on Kuwait. The news blitzed the media and Jessie found herself watching the developments on CNN throughout the day. Apparently, the United Nations had called an emergency meeting to discuss action against Iraq. The unwelcome distraction had impeded her latest project and she was working late to meet a deadline.

  There was a knock on Brennan’s door, and Cindy’s head popped in. “Hi, Brennan. Still working?”

  “With the diversion today, I wasn’t able to finish my Sunday column. What about you?”

  “Catching up on my filing.” She leaned up against the door. “A bunch of women from the office are heading over to Tony’s happy hour. Would you like to join us?”

  “Thanks for the invite. Can I take a rain check? I really need to finish this.”

  “Next time, I won’t let you off so easily,” Cindy smiled flirtatiously. “I understand you missed your doctor’s physical again.” Her eyes studied Brennan. “I think I know your little secret, Mr. Keller.”

  Jessie looked up at Cindy; she had been caught once more. Her heart skipped a beat. “And what is that, Ms. Palmer?”

  “You’re using and you can’t have the drug test now.”

  Jessie breathed a little easier. “Actually, I’m just really busy right now.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “How much longer do you need to pass the drug screen?”

  Jessie sighed. “My schedule lightens up after the holidays. Why don’t you schedule me an appointment around the first of February.”

  “Consider it done.” She dropped an envelope on his desk. “This was in your mailbox.” She left.

  Jessie picked up the envelope. It was addressed to “Brennan Keller and Guest.” She craned her neck to see if Cindy was lurking outside her office door. Satisfied that she had gone, Jessie opened the envelope. It was an invitation to an annual party sponsored by the Broadcasting Corporation of America (BCA), an organization that supported the media. Jessie was baffled. Generally, this was an exclusive event attended by only the highest echelon in the industry. The affair was scheduled a week before Thanksgiving.

  * * *

  It was the first Sunday in November and Jessie had just completed the fourteenth degree. To commemorate the occasion, the candidates were awarded the official Masonic ring, a gold band with the Hebrew letter “YOD.”

  As Jessie and the other initiates left the Pennsylvania lodge that evening, they were bombarded with heckles from demonstrators outside the lodge. “Go away, devil worshippers!” the crowd chanted. “Go away, Satan worshippers!”

  Jessie was puzzled. She had been involved in Freemasonry since June and had never even heard the devil’s name mentioned. Crude jeers were barked at the initiates all the way to the parking lot where Jessie found sanctuary in the Mustang.

  On the Sunday that followed, Jessie was initiated into the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth degrees. During the exemplification of the seventeenth degree the name Abaddon was spoken. Although the ceremony did not explain who Abaddon was, he was conveyed as a sacred being.

  The next morning, while at Brennan’s desk, Jessie went online and searched for “Abaddon.” To her surprise thousands of references were noted. She hit the first link, leading her to the book of Revelation.

  And they had a king over them, which is the angel of the bottomless pit, whose name in the Hebrew tongue is Abaddon, but in the Greek tongue hath his name Apollyon.

  Revelation 9:11

  “So, Abaddon is the angel of the bottomless pit?” Jessie mumbled as she searched for another reference. Most of the links directed her to similar Biblical references. Then she clicked the link to an online dictionary. “Abaddon,” she started to read. Oh, my God… “The Devil, Hell; literally destruction (Revelation 9:11).” Queasiness hit. Was it a coincidence that Revelation 9:11 alluded to the events of September 11, 2001?

  * * *

  In no time the BCA event arrived. Jessie’s legwork uncovered that it was Clark Coburn who had arranged to get Brennan an invitation. He had also prearranged a limo to transport Brennan to and from the affair.

  Jessie had showered and slipped on the undergarments that obscured her femininity. Her attention was on the TV as she dressed in the pleated French-cuffed shirt, black wool pants, and lavender Bellisimo vest.

  “With no place to go,” the CNN correspondent reported, “it appears that the United Nations is heading for an impasse concerning how to proceed against Iraq.”

  Jessie flicked the remote control and the television faded. She picked up the black silk bowtie and fastened it around the wing-tipped collar. Then she stepped into her dress shoes and finished with the black tuxedo jacket.

  She walked in front of the full-length mirror that hung from the closet door. Surprised by her reflection, she approached the mirror and straightened the bowtie. The lavender vest added the right touch of color to the conventional black tuxedo. She had never seen Brennan look so handsome. The doorbell buzzed, alerting her that her limo had arrived.

  * * *

  As Jessie strolled the Silver Corridor of the Waldorf Astoria, she admired the polished marble floor, The black and white checkered pattern sidetracked her from the extraordinary passageway where magnificent chandeliers hung from soaring arched ceilings. She was en route to the banquet room, lost in the checkered design, when she heard the familiar voice from behind her.

  “Hello, Brennan.”

  Jessie’s eyes left the floor. Clark Coburn approached with an attractive, younger woman. “Clark. Good evening.” Jessie shook his hand.

  “Brennan, this is my wife, Michelle. Michelle, this is Brennan Keller.”

  Jessie took her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “Likewise,” she smiled. “Clark, I need to find the little girls’ room.” Her eyes on Brennan, “Would you excuse me?” Michelle left them alone.

  Clark and Brennan headed down the corridor, toward a grand piano where a man skillfully stroked the keyboard. “Brennan, tonight will be a good opportunity to meet some very influential people.”

  “I’ve been looking forward to this evening for some time, Clark.”

  As they neared the end of the corridor, the piano amplified, and the rhythm of a social gathering drew them into a small banquet room. Ten round tables were elegantly set, dressed with white linen tablecloths. Candles, and long-stemmed roses in gold vases, adorned the tables, creating an intimate atmosphere.

  A group mingled in the center of the room, near a bar. As Clark made his way through the crowd, he introduced Brennan to the CEO of one broadcasting company, the president of another, and finally the CFO of a third. By the time they reached the bar, Jessie’s mind raced.

  “Scotch on crushed ice,” Jessie told the bartender.

  Clark fingered through a box of cigars at the bar. He selected one, smelled it, then picked another. With the two cigars he gestured to Brennan, “After dinner.”

  Jessie nodded, and decided to get right to the point. “Clark, why am I here?” She looked around the room. “These people, like yourself, have great
achievements in the broadcasting world…but, why am I here?”

  Clark grinned. “Because I like you, Brennan. Because my gut tells me you are capable of great things. I told you once before that we take care of our kind. We do. Continue getting your degrees, Brennan…Stay on our side, and you will become a very powerful man.”

  “Here you are, Clark,” Michelle interrupted them.

  Clark handed his wife a drink, but ignored her. He directed Brennan away, leaving Michelle, who quickly engaged herself in conversation with others.

  “Brennan, there is someone I want you to meet,” Clark said as he led him to a tall and slim man. But the stranger was talking with someone else, so Clark waited patiently for an opening.

  The man engaged Clark when his conversation ended. “Clark, how are you this fine evening?”

  “Michael, I’d like you to meet Brennan Keller. Brennan, this is Michael Whitman.”

  Michael’s dark eyes studied Brennan intently. Jessie placed Michael in his late fifties or early sixties.

  She shook his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Michael.”

  “Likewise, Brennan. So, you’re the new reporter that’s been writing the New York City political beat?”

  “Yes.”

  His eyes narrowed on Brennan. “I want you to do a story on me after Thanksgiving. Clark will give you the details. Would you excuse me?” Whitman abruptly left to greet a younger woman.

  “We’ll talk later. There’s someone else I want you to meet.” Clark directed Brennan toward a small group that Michelle had connected with. “Neil, how are you?”

  Neil Samson turned toward Clark, then Brennan. Jessie’s pulse quickened slightly as she stood face-to-face with her brother’s previous boss.

  “Neil, I want you to meet Brennan Keller.”

  Neil smiled, and then shook Brennan’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Brennan. I’ve heard a lot about you.”