by C. M. Palov
Calzada bellowed with rage as he moved to retrieve the weapon.
Seizing his chance, Caedmon rushed forward and, going for the soft target, he kicked Calzada in the lower belly. So hard, he felt the satisfying mush of abdominal wall. Felled, Calzada dropped to his knees, braying like a donkey. Unable to stop himself, Caedmon kneed him under the chin, hurling his foe on to his back. For a brief instant, the brute’s torso arched before he went completely slack, limbs splayed.
‘Finally,’ he muttered as he stared dispassionately at the unconscious man sprawled at his feet. He felt a singular lack of remorse, convinced that in this one instance, evolution’s arrow had gone astray, Hector Calzada more beast than man.
Barely able to stand, Caedmon shambled towards the exit, stopping to pick up the Uzi along the way. As he stepped through the doorway, he heard the welcome blare of sirens. The rain had stopped, the air laden with a fine mist that felt oddly refreshing.
Edie and Anala both ran towards him.
‘We heard a gunshot! Did he hurt you?’ Edie asked anxiously as she threw herself at his chest and wrapped her arms around his waist.
‘I’m all right, love.’ Wobbling slightly, he held her, not entirely certain who supported who.
They’d survived! All three of them!
Standing a few feet away, Anala smiled shyly at him. His emotions in a jumble, Caedmon stared into eyes that were hauntingly similar to his own.
‘You need to ring your mother.’
‘I did. Soon after we called the police,’ Anala informed him.
‘Right. Of course you did. I didn’t mean to sound like a –’ Father. He shook his head, stymied.
‘Look!’ Edie pointed to the sky. ‘There’s a rainbow.’
For several moments, Caedmon stared at the shimmering bands of color that arced across the eastern horizon. ‘It’s like peering through Newton’s prism,’ he murmured.
‘Don’t you know what that is?’ As she spoke, Anala sidled closer to him and Edie. Still smiling, she said, ‘Indra, the Hindu god of thunder, used a rainbow arrow to destroy Asura Vrta, the demon serpent.’
Edie gently nudged him. ‘Did you hear that?’
Shoulders relaxing, Caedmon pushed out a cathartic sigh.
I did.
EPILOGUE
Paris, France
Two Weeks Later
‘Ravissant!’ Caedmon enthused, kissing his fingertips à la française as Edie entered the study. Attired in a cream-colored halter dress that showed off her toned arms and legs, she was stunning.
Smiling cheekily, Edie perched herself on the edge of his desk, leaned over and kissed him full on the lips. ‘Right back at ya, Big Red.’
He chortled, amused. ‘If you don’t mind, I prefer “dashing”.’
‘That you are. Particularly since the nasty bruise on your jaw has finally faded. I think the chartreuse stage was the worst.’ Extending a bare arm, Edie snatched the desk calendar that he’d just finished marking before she walked in. ‘I see that you’ve blocked off the first week in October.’
‘That’s the week before Michaelmas terms begins at Oxford.’ Caedmon stared at the calendar in Edie’s hands, hoping that he’d not bitten off too much. ‘Because I’ve never envisioned myself playing the role of father, I’m admittedly out of my bailiwick.’
Edie returned the calendar to him. ‘First of all, stop thinking of it as a role. Just be yourself. And don’t be afraid to let Anala know that you’re nervous. Trust me. She’ll be charmed. And you have a clear advantage . . .’ She paused, a mischievous glint in her brown eyes. ‘Not every father can lay claim to having a quiverful of rainbow arrows.’
‘Lucky for all of us that I did,’ he muttered. Discomfited, he changed the subject. ‘Did I mention that I got us tickets for Rigoletto at the Paris Opera?’
‘No, you did not.’ Edie clapped her hands, clearly pleased with the announcement. ‘Ooh-la-la! How I love the gilded splendor of Palais Garnier. This is an outing that most definitely requires a new dress. Champs-Elysées, here I come.’
‘Unfortunately, all of the orchestra tickets were sold out. The best I could manage was the second balcony.’
‘Quelle horreur!’
‘Yes, well, the good news is that our seats are in the same box,’ he deadpanned.
‘My hero.’ Grinning, Edie patted her heart, miming a fluttering heartbeat.
Delighted by her playful reaction, Caedmon stared at his lady love, Edie Miller, the source of all his bliss. And an astonishing gift that he wasn’t altogether certain that he deserved.
‘Stop the presses,’ Edie whispered, returning his stare. ‘I think that I’m in love.’
‘Speaking of the press, I thought you’d be interested to see this.’ Rifling through a stack of newspapers that he’d earlier picked up at the corner kiosk, he plucked a day-old edition of the New York Times out of the pile. ‘Franco Fiorio didn’t make the headlines, but he is front-page news,’ he remarked, handing Edie the paper.
‘“Cardinal Fiorio Faces Uphill Legal Battle”,’ she read aloud. ‘Good. I’m glad that the district attorney is pressing forward with the criminal case. Although I think it’s a shame that she can only charge him with being an accessory to murder and kidnapping. He was, after all, the mastermind.’ Wearing a sly grin, Edie lowered the newspaper. ‘I wonder if he and Hector will share a jail cell.’
‘A fitting punishment for both of them,’ Caedmon muttered uncharitably. He glanced at his wristwatch. ‘It’s getting rather late in the morning. If you like, I can whip together something in the kitchen.’
Putting a hand to her lower belly, Edie said, ‘Please, not another one of those egg and sausage fry-ups that you love to “whip together”. And is the black pudding and baked beans really necessary? Just thinking about it is causing my cholesterol level to escalate.’
‘The heart dies, but the breakfast lives on,’ he declared in a booming voice.
‘I have a better idea. How about we stroll down to the patisserie? I’m in the mood for a gooey éclair. The one that’s covered in caramel, what’s that called?’
‘That would be a bâton de Jacob.’
Edie laughed; a full, throaty sound that was utterly contagious. ‘Sounds biblical. In a naughty kinda way.’
‘Ah! That reminds me; I received an email from the Reverend Doctor Geevarghese Mar Paulos. He received the third copper plate.’
‘And . . . ?’
‘And the Nazrani bishops will meet later this month at which time they’ll decide whether or not to release the plate to the public,’ he informed her, hitting the highlights of the email. ‘So, we shall have to wait and see what happens on that front.’
‘I know you’re convinced that it was the right thing to do, but I’m not so –’
‘Need I remind you that Fortes de Pinós did steal the Evangelium Gaspar from the Nazrani,’ he interjected.
‘All right. I surrender,’ Edie said with an exasperated shake of the head. ‘But I still hope that the Nazrani decide to go public. People need to know what’s contained in the Evangelium Gaspar. They need to know the truth.’
‘I suspect that the truth, if it’s ever made public, will trigger a violent religious upheaval followed by a painful detoxification.’ That was the reason why he’d given the Nazrani custody of the third plate, unwilling to be the person responsible for putting the Christians of the world through a bloody Twelve Step Program.
As to the current whereabouts of the first two plates, Caedmon suspected that Cardinal Fiorio had done one of two things: he’d cached the plates in the Vatican Secret Archives or he’d stashed them in a personal safe deposit box. Either way, he presumed that the plates were lost to history.
‘At least we have digital copies of all three plates,’ Edie said, having correctly intuited the direction of his thoughts.
‘Which I find more fascinating with each reading. And it makes me wonder about other secrets that the Templars may have unearthed at Mount Carmel
.’ From the onset, Caedmon had suspected that the Order had discovered scrolls or texts at the ancient monastery that ultimately led them to India.
‘Personally, I’m intrigued by the notion that, after the crucifixion, Jesus left his apostles so that he could seek out the lost tribes of Israel. Which begs the question: where did he go? And what happened to him once he got there?’
‘Provocative questions, indeed.’
Convinced that there was more to the tale, Caedmon got up from his desk and walked over to the globe prominently situated in the corner of his study. An early nineteenth-century terrestrial globe, it was an impressive bit of cartography. Somewhat idly, he spun the orb before his index finger landed on a particular locale, stopping the globe in mid-spin.
For several moments he stared at the sacred parcel of land known during the Middle Ages as the Axis Mundi, the center of the world. It was the hallowed place that reputedly connected heaven and earth. One to the other.
There were secrets hidden there. Of that he was certain.
Glancing up from the globe, Caedmon smiled broadly at his lady love. ‘Fancy a trip to the Holy Land?’
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Born in Washington DC, C.M. Palov graduated from George Mason University with a degree in art history. The author’s résumé includes working as a museum guide, teaching English in Seoul, Korea and managing a bookshop. Twin interests in art and arcana inspired the author to write esoteric thrillers. C.M. Palov currently lives in the mountains of southern Virginia.
Table of Contents
COPYRIGHT
PART I
PROLOGUE
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
PART II
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
PART III
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
PART IV
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
EPILOGUE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
