The Temple Scroll

by D C Macey

  They spread out and checked the chamber again. Every inch of the floor, it was all solid bedrock, and nothing could be beneath it. Then they scanned the ceiling for any little access point they had missed. Nothing.

  A sense of doubt was beginning to settle in as they started to check the walls. Helen paused to lean on Sam’s arm for a moment. They had come so far, too far for it to end in failure. ‘It’s not looking too good, Sam.’

  ‘No, but let’s keep going. If there’s one thing we know, it’s the Templars were masters of concealment. I think there must be something; we just need to focus.’

  They carried on, scanning the walls. Concentration was difficult as the chiselled and fractured wall seams progressively merged into a bland sameness.

  ‘Let me see the glass again,’ said Sam. Taking it from Helen, he studied it closely, then handed it back. ‘Look, the ruby isn’t exactly on the gold strand, it’s set beside it, see, on the right. Let’s concentrate on the right hand side of the chamber.’

  Nick glanced at Simon. ‘Did you hear that?’ he said.

  ‘What? Don’t start getting jumpy on us.’

  ‘No, I’m serious, I heard a noise.’

  ‘Ha! Sam, your man’s scared of the dark.’

  ‘I tell you, I heard something.’

  ‘What?’ said Sam.

  ‘I don’t know. It came from back up the tunnel.’

  ‘I heard nothing,’ said Simon again. ‘Come on let’s continue the search, we’ve got work to do. You don’t need to be jumpy.’

  ‘I’m not jumpy,’ said Nick. ‘I heard something.’

  Sam moved to stand next to Nick. ‘It’s okay, Simon’s only winding you up,’ he said, casting a cautionary glance towards Simon. ‘Look, don’t worry, I’ll go back a bit and check for you, for all of us. I’m sure it’s nothing. You just concentrate on the search.’

  Sam turned towards the tunnel and froze. Emerging from it were men. Half a dozen at least and most had guns, trained on him.

  ‘No need for you to go and check, Mr Cameron. The young man was correct; there was a noise, and here we are,’ said Parsol.

  ‘Who the hell are you?’ said Sam. As he raised his arms in a show of surrender, he stared stony faced at the tall, elderly man who had spoken to him, then quickly glanced over his shoulder to ensure the others were following his lead. They were. His attention turned back to the intruders.

  The tall man’s gaze ranged beyond Sam, scanning the prisoners. Helen shivered as she felt it settle on her. ‘Mr Cameron, you can call me Parsol. Don’t do anything silly or you will die, immediately. All of you.’

  He walked past Sam and approached Helen. ‘It is you, isn’t it? Yes, it is. Cassiter, do come over. Look, it’s the little lady who caused us so much trouble in Edinburgh.’

  Cassiter crossed the cavern to join Parsol. He met Helen’s gaze with a cold stare, allowed his eyes to scan her body, and then looked back over his shoulder. ‘Watch this one. She doesn’t look up to much but believe me she packs a punch. Secure her wrists now. In fact, secure all their wrists.’

  Two of the armed men holstered their guns and hurried forward. One of them cable tied her wrists in front of her. The other, Robertson, checked for weapons, patted her down, just a bit too thoroughly. She gave him a furious look and he responded with a long leer before re-joining his partner to help secure their three male prisoners. Helen noticed that they had found Simon’s pistol.

  ‘Now, who do I speak to?’ said Parsol.

  His question was met with a stony silence.

  ‘Come, come. We have all covered a lot of ground to get here. Don’t be shy at the end because, be assured, I won’t let it rest.’ Parsol walked across to Nick and Simon. ‘I don’t think it’s either of you.’ He allowed his pistol to stroke Simon’s cheek. ‘Not you. You look like muscle to me; you’re just the brawn aren’t you?’ He turned his attention to Nick, bringing the pistol close to the young man’s left eye. Nick instinctively drew back and Parsol pressed the pistol forward again. ‘Is it you? No, I know it’s not. You are just a waif they have picked up on the journey. Quite disposable.’

  Parsol half turned away from Nick, glancing back at Helen and Sam who stood in silent defiance. Then he turned his attention back to the young Greek. ‘They won’t speak with me. Perhaps this will encourage them.’ Without any warning, he fired a round from his pistol into Nick’s stomach.

  Nick fell to the floor, screaming in shock and pain. Blood spread quickly around him, he was wounded twice from the same shot - first it had passed through his hand then it had drilled into his belly.

  Helen and Sam started across the cavern to offer Nick aid but were restrained by Parsol’s men.

  ‘You’ve shot him, you butcher. Why did you do that?’ shouted Helen over Nick’s screams.

  ‘That was pointless, he didn’t present a threat to you,’ said Sam, his voice steady as ever.

  Leaving Nick to bleed, Parsol turned his attention back to Helen. ‘So, young lady, you and I have unfinished business. I think you have plenty to tell me and I know you will.’

  ‘Leave her, it’s me you want,’ said Sam.

  Parsol looked at him. ‘Oh yes, you’re right; you have something coming your way. But first of all, I think this little lady is the big prize.’ He turned back to Helen. ‘You have all the answers I’m sure. Now will you speak with me in a civilised way or must I reintroduce you to my good friend Cassiter? I know you’re familiar with his, urh, his handy work, yes?’

  Helen dropped her eyes to the floor; there was no point in inviting hell. But for all the danger, she had learnt something. Wallace had been right; the man had used a false identity. It didn’t matter today but somehow it felt better that she knew the monster’s real name - Cassiter. ‘Please, let me see to Nick; then I’ll help you. I promise.’

  Parsol stepped closer to her. ‘Oh no need to promise, you’ll help me, I know it. Now let’s start with this shall we. What have you got here?’ He pulled the gold framed glass from her bound hands. Looked at it blankly for a moment then put on his glasses and stepped closer to Sam’s electric lantern. ‘Now this is interesting,’ he said. ‘Do come and see Cassiter. What do you make of it? Very ingenious, I think it’s a plan of the labyrinth.’ He looked at Cassiter. ‘I didn’t know about this. I wonder what else I don’t know.’ He glanced meaningfully towards Helen then tilted the glass so Cassiter could see through it.

  ‘Do you see? Images of all those daggers you have so diligently gathered for us. I see now, the patterns on the blades represent the labyrinth, and this gold thread plots the path through and I’ll bet the ruby marks exactly where we stand now.’

  Parsol looked over at Helen and Sam. ‘But look, there’s one dagger missing. Let’s see what we can do about that, shall we?’ He swung his shoulder bag round to the front and delved inside. ‘Here we are,’ he said, as he pulled the Mary Magdalene dagger out into the torchlight. Parsol examined the crenulations in the frame; he muttered to himself, then aligned the French dagger with the gold frame and slotted the eighth and final dagger into its place. He looked down into the glass at the completed plan then glanced up at Helen.

  ‘You didn’t have that one did you? Now look, there’s a nice easy route out for those of us who are going to leave.’

  Cassiter rested a finger on the glass, stroked over the embedded ruby. ‘So where is it? There’s no sign of anything here.’

  ‘That, my good friend, is what they are about to tell us.’

  ‘We don’t know anything more than you,’ said Helen.

  ‘There’s nothing here. It’s been a wild goose chase,’ said Sam.

  Parsol laughed. ‘I don’t think so. There has been an answer at every stage; there will be an answer to this. You just need to provide it for us.’ He waved Cassiter towards Helen. ‘I think we can dispense with formalities, perhaps you would like to encourage her to speak now?’

  Cassiter stepped across to Helen. Sam started forward, forcing his body be
tween them; a blow to his head from Robertson’s pistol knocked him down to his knees. Sam swayed, dazed, and blood streamed down his face from his reopened head wound. A violent kick in the chest from Cassiter put him on his back.

  Sam instinctively rolled on to his side as another kick came in, aiming for his head but glancing off to connect full with his left shoulder. No more blows came as he struggled for consciousness, trying to maintain focus by forcing himself to stare at the base of the wall, which was now just a few centimetres in front of him.

  Helen’s eyes met Cassiter’s. She did not flinch as she felt his hands search out hers, felt his fingers slide between hers, interlocking. He smiled a cold, cruel smile. Then she could see something in his eyes, not just cold. Now there was a flicker of life; no, it was a flicker of excitement. He wanted to hurt her, needed to.

  Parsol moved a little closer to Helen. He put the French dagger and the gold framed glass into his shoulder bag, then raised his hand and ran it through her flowing red hair. For a few moments, he let his fingers twirl and entwine in it. Then he gripped it tight, held her still as he leant in close to her face. ‘Cassiter is going to hurt you, you know that. Why not just tell me what I want. You’re going to die, all of you; that is a fact. But you don’t need to die in pain. My men can make it quick if I say so. Or, of course, they can make it very slow.’

  ‘I don’t know what you want. There is nothing to tell you.’

  ‘Dear girl, there’s always something to tell. You just have to think very hard.’ He let her hair go and stepped back, giving Cassiter a nod to signal he should take over proceedings.

  Cassiter was motionless, so close that had he pursed his lips he could almost have kissed her face. She could feel his exhaling breath on her. Its warm moistness repelled her but she would not flinch. Now his hands weren’t still and Helen felt a little pressure building on her fingers. She pressed back, a fit and strong young woman but no match for Cassiter. She felt him apply more pressure to match her own, then yet more to dominate her. Her fingers began to twist, little jabs of pain merged into something bigger.

  She bit her tongue, pursed her lips, determined not to give ground as her twisted fingers began to buckle. Involuntary tears began to form in her eyes.

  ‘Tell the man what he wants to know, it’s only going to get a lot worse for you from here on in,’ whispered Cassiter.

  ‘Stop. Stop, I’ve got the answer for you,’ shouted Sam. Helen registered the excitement in his voice, quickly followed by the slightest relaxation of the pressure on her fingers as Cassiter’s head turned towards Parsol, seeking guidance.

  ‘Well Mr Cameron. What answer have you got for us? I hope you’re not playing any silly games. That would make us very angry,’ said Parsol.

  ‘No games, I’ve got what you want. But let her go first.’

  Cassiter backed away from Helen in response to Parsol’s nodded instruction.

  Sam still lay facing the wall; he turned his head to look up at Parsol.

  ‘Do tell Mr Cameron. One chance only.’

  Sam turned his head back to the wall and gritted his teeth, fighting the pain that pulsed from his damaged shoulder as he moved his arms to touch the base of the cavern wall. Seeking to feel confirmation of what his eyes were seeing. ‘This is not a wall. It’s a door,’ he said.

  One of the guards beside Simon gave a little laugh. It ended quickly under a withering look from Parsol.

  ‘It looks very much like a wall to me Mr Cameron. I hope you’re not being deceitful.’

  ‘No, it’s a door. We found the same construction method at the tunnel entrance. The Templars were masters at this sort of thing. It’s actually a panel of chipped and splintered stone, assembled to match the way the surrounding wall had been hacked out by the original miners. It’s a mosaic, come and see for yourself.’

  Parsol and Cassiter bent down to look more closely.

  ‘Well I don’t see it,’ said Parsol.

  Cassiter was looking carefully, letting his hands run across other parts of the wall, then back to the part Sam had indicated. ‘He might have something. I’m not sure, but once you look for a difference there seems to be something. Just the feel, the way the light reflects. Come look again. Touch it, feel it,’ he said.

  Parsol returned and allowed his hand to run across the section of wall, he inspected it more closely. ‘So open it, Mr Cameron. Let’s see what’s beyond.’

  Sam struggled to his feet and crossed to Helen. ‘We had to use brute force to open the other one. I think it’ll be more of a sealed panel than a door. Opening it is a once only job.’

  Parsol had Sam and Simon set to, to break the wall. Under the supervision of the guards Sam held his pry bar and Simon beat it with a stone. With a damaged shoulder and their wrists cable tied, it was heavy going and they could not apply enough pressure to break the panel.

  ‘Get out of the way,’ ordered Cassiter, producing his pistol. ‘Everyone over there,’ he waved them back towards the tunnel mouth. As they backed away, he crouched down, aimed at the wall and fired. Amidst the wild and echoing roar of the discharging weapon, shot after shot hit the panel, each bullet punched through the stone mosaic and buried into the ancient mortar behind. His magazine emptied, he loaded his reserve magazine clip and repeated the process. When he’d used up his ammunition, he stood, waving ineffectually at the billows of gun smoke that were misting the scene, and crossed to inspect his work.

  ‘There’s a hole,’ he shouted. ‘You guys get over here and blast this wall with your guns; we’ll be in it in no time.’

  Three of the guards joined Cassiter and began blasting at the wall. They paused to reload their reserve clips and then resumed the fusillade. By the time their ammunition was spent, there was a hole in the wall big enough for a man to thrust his head through.

  Parsol insisted on looking first. As his head disappeared into the hole, a silence fell on the watching group. After a long moment, Parsol pulled back from the hole and waved Cassiter towards it. ‘I think we might just have hit the jackpot.’ His normally impassive face showed just a hint of triumph.

  Sam had manoeuvred himself to Helen’s side. As all eyes were on the hole in the wall, he nudged her, glanced down to the leg pocket of his cargo pants; he raised his leg slightly. She followed his eye line and responded. Bending her knees a little she reached her bound hands into the pocket, felt about, delved to the bottom and found a slim little pocket knife - low on Sam’s thigh, the pocket had been missed by his searchers. She pulled it out and looked expectantly at Sam, then held the knife tight as he gripped the thick edge of the blade with his fingertips and drew it open.

  Sam thrust his wrists out, allowing her to cut him free. He reciprocated.

  Simon had sidled alongside them as the guards shuffled closer to the hole in the wall, anxious to get sight of the prize. Parsol and Cassiter had exchanged places again. His muffled voice reached them from within the wall. ‘Cassiter, I need this opened up, now.’

  Parsol pulled his head out from the hole, saw how anxious his men were to see the sight and waved them forward. ‘A quick glance men, then to work.’

  He looked at Helen, standing between Sam and Simon, each with their hands secured in front of them. ‘Well young lady, it looks as though you came up trumps. I did mention you’d all die, didn’t I? That’s quite true. Sadly, you’ve caused me a lot of bother and I’m afraid I can’t let you go quietly. And I think Cassiter here has some business to finish with you too.’ He looked at Cassiter who gave the slightest of nods.

  ‘Now, your friends can watch with me while Cassiter does what he does best. Then if you’re still able, you can watch them have some of the same; before we end it for you all.’

  Cassiter stepped in front of Helen, leant forward and breathed in her face again. His hands sought out hers, their fingers interlocked, he smiled happily into her eyes as he applied pressure, started to bend her fingers back. A brief moment of puzzlement flitted across his face as her wrists pa
rted, he didn’t understand. Then he felt her knee hammer into his crotch. He squealed, buckled, squatted down and cradled his genitals.

  Parsol had been standing, quietly anticipating the punishment the American girl was due. Before he could pull his pistol, Simon was on him. A forearm into the jaw had Parsol reeling back, falling, and Simon helped him down with a hard kick to the ribs. Parsol’s pistol fell to the ground and Simon instinctively kicked it beyond his opponent’s reach.

  The four guards were working at the hole in the wall; Sam had marked out the one who had not emptied his ammunition into the wall. He put him down with a clenched fist hard into the temple. Didn’t bother to watch him fall - from the moment he’d connected he knew it was a home run; the man was out of the fight. Sam pushed on; the guards were becoming aware that things were out of hand but the second one went down as Sam used his body’s full momentum to propel the guard’s head into the wall he had been about to break. Sam wrapped his right arm round the third guard’s neck and used it as a pivot to swing round and land a kick on Robertson who grunted in distress as Sam’s boot met his midriff. But with the impetus of the initial assault nearly over, and with only one working arm, the odds would quickly start to turn against Sam.

  Helen brought her knee up into Cassiter’s face, heard the groan as his nose folded, didn’t notice the flow of blood on to her trouser leg, but did join her hands and bring them down hard on the back of his head. She looked on with satisfaction as he sprawled on the ground, dazed, groaning and bloodied.

  She hurried across to Nick. He was quiet now, hands clasped across the stomach wound. The wound needed attention way beyond what she could offer. Carefully, she looked at his face; it was pallid, waxy - Nick was in a very bad way. He tried to smile; she leant forward and stroked his brow. ‘We’ll fix this, just hold on.’ Then she was up and returning to the fray.

  Hurrying back across the chamber, she could see their position was unsustainable. Cassiter was still down but showing signs of revival, as was Parsol. Sam and Simon were struggling with three of the four guards; the fourth was still out cold from Sam’s initial assault. Like Sam, she had marked him out as the only guard who had not emptied his gun into the wall panel. She knelt beside the prone man and felt inside his jacket. Finding his pistol, she pulled it out.