Treasure Templari

by David S. Brody

  Amanda brushed her hair back from her face and smiled. There it was again, a nod to the Templars. And right here, in the Just Judges panel. Beaufort, like the Duke of Burgundy, was one of the most powerful and wealthy men in Europe. Did he, too, know of the lost/hidden Treasure Templari?

  Amanda studied the painting again, in light of this new knowledge. Beaufort’s inclusion in the Just Judges panel seemed to point to two themes: First, the Templars, and second, the concept of separation of church and state. Again, the judges seemed to be looking at/to Templars for guidance/truth. Why else would the Templars be closer to the center of the painting than the “just” judges? Beaufort, though powerful and wealthy, also symbolized the danger of merging the powers of church and state. The Templars, of course, were painfully aware of that danger: Their downfall had been brought on by the unholy, power-seeking alliance between the pope and the king of France.

  Amanda let her thoughts run. Was van Eyck preaching the importance of the separation of church and state? Was that, in fact, the hidden secret of the painting? Could it be that the Just Judges panel was not a literal map leading to the Holy Grail but was rather a metaphorical one? Did it show the way to the Holy Grail by looking to the example of the Templars? Taking it one step further, might the Holy Grail itself be viewed not as a treasure but instead as a belief set, a roadmap for how society could move forward and be healthy? And was the separation of church and state, later made famous by the United States Bill of Rights, at the core of this belief set?

  Enough. She closed her laptop. She was running far afoot here, allowing herself to be guided by speculation rather than evidence…

  A series of sounds interrupted her musings. A screech of tires. A loud thump. The whine of a car horn. Amanda stood and ran toward the front of the house. Through the window she saw an older model white van spun sideways across the road, its front end nosed into a telephone pole. “Venus, stay.” With her phone, she called 911 as she slipped on her running shoes and pushed through the door. “I need to report an automobile accident.”

  A young man staggered from the van, blinking, just as a pair of female joggers arrived on the scene. “I’ve just called 911,” Amanda said. “Are you okay?”

  “I think so,” the man replied. “But my girlfriend is hurt. I think it’s her leg. She had it up on the dashboard.” He shook his head. “A cat ran out in front of me.”

  Amanda circled the van and pulled open the passenger door. A blond woman, sobbing, was trying to push the airbag away. “Stay still,” Amanda said, not smelling any gas. She turned off the ignition. “Help is on the way.” As she leaned in to assist, four strong hands—the joggers, she quickly deduced—grabbed her and shoved forward. What the—? Turning, she kicked at them. As she did so, the injured woman, plus another woman leaning forward from the back seat, yanked at her from inside the van. Within seconds she had been body-surfed across the injured woman and into the floor of the backseat. Before she could even lift her head, the van engine roared to life, the joggers piled in, and they were on their way, cascading down the street.

  The blond woman from the passenger seat, her mascara smeared but suddenly fully composed, leaned her face in close. “Don’t fight it, honey.”

  Amanda brought her arms up defensively. “What do you want from me? Who are you?”

  She ignored Amanda’s questions. “Hush, now.” She pushed Amanda’s head down as the women in the back seat grabbed her arms and wrenched them back. “You’ve got a pretty face.” A hood was slipped over it, darkening Amanda’s world. “I’m guessing you’d like to keep it that way.”

  Jonas drove north, through the back roads of southern New Hampshire, one eye in his rearview mirror. He was pretty sure nobody had seen them abduct the target—she lived on a quiet block, and from what they had seen during their surveillance, most neighbors were at work. And, as much of a commotion as they had made, they were out of there before any other bystanders arrived.

  Heidi directed him, based on the map on her phone. “Up here on the right. Turn down this drive.” He had been here a few times before. Detlef had a doctor on retainer, someone to help out the fighters from the gym with painkillers and human growth hormones and whatever else they might need. And also to patch up anyone hurt during the demonstrations.

  Ten minutes later they had parked the van in an attached garage and ushered their captive—her name was Amanda, according to the file—through the garage door into a white-walled examination room. A tall, scowling nurse wearing one of those old Florence Nightingale white caps entered through the opposite door and strapped Amanda to a hospital bed. “What are you going to do to me?” Amanda asked, her voice quavering through the hood.

  Heidi had taken on the role of good cop. “Nothing bad, honey. We’re going to ask you some questions. If you cooperate, you’ll be home by the time the school bus arrives.”

  The nurse rubbed alcohol on Amanda’s bicep. As she recoiled, Heidi grabbed her arm and held it still as the nurse quickly injected a needle and depressed the syringe.

  Amanda sobbed. “What is that?”

  “Like I said, nothing bad, I promise,” Heidi purred, pulling the hood off. “It’s a truth serum, like sodium pentothal. You’re going to start to feel light, then euphoric.” She patted Amanda’s hand. “But it won’t hurt you.”

  Jonas bit his lip. He had resisted the urge to turn away from the needle injection. In a way, he welcomed the urge, the revulsion at what they were doing. It meant his mission had not totally dehumanized him, as he sometimes feared it had. In any war, there must be casualties.

  He refocused. The drug worked by decreasing higher cortical brain functions. Because lying was more complicated than telling the truth, this dulling of cortical capacity made it difficult for subjects to lie effectively. And the euphoria brought on by the drug also made subjects desirous of pleasing their interrogators. As a result, it was rare for a subject to be able to fool a trained interrogator.

  He looked at Amanda, who stared back at him wide-eyed and fearful. They probably didn’t even need the drugs. He took a deep breath and stepped closer. “I know that Cameron has been working on the secret of the Just Judges painting. I need you to tell me what he learned.”

  Amanda could hear her heart racing, like horses thundering down the back stretch. THUMP, THUMP, THUMP. Slowly the sound faded, as if she were in a balloon floating ever higher above the horse track. Thump, thump, thump. The sun caressed her face, soft music played. She soared higher, the hoof beats now only an echo…

  She blinked as the man, the driver of the van, asked her a question. Was he okay? Hadn’t he banged his head? He seemed so nice now, just like his girlfriend. And he had a kind face, sort of like a young Tom Hanks. Why had she thought he was mean? Had he done something to her? But how could he be mean, with such a sweet girlfriend who was being so attentive to her?

  “The painting?” she repeated back to them. “You want me to tell you about the painting? Isn’t it beautiful, all those vibrant colors?”

  “Yes,” the man said, smiling. “It is very beautiful. But we think it hides a secret. A beautiful secret. And we think your husband figured it out. Can you tell us about it?”

  “Yes, Cameron did. He figured it out. He’s so smart! And then I figured out some of it also.”

  “Let’s start with what Cameron figured out, okay?”

  “Well, it’s all based on the buildings in the background.” She furrowed her brow, trying to recall the details. Like the horses below, everything seemed so far away from her now, like she was floating in space. “The buildings encode latitude and longitude coordinates.” She nodded. “Yes, that’s it.”

  He wrote something down on a pad of paper as he leaned in. “And what are those coordinates?”

  She shook her head slowly. “I don’t remember exactly.” The nice man frowned, which made her sad. She fought to focus. “But I do remember where they lead to. A spot in the Catskill Mountains along the Neversink River, the West Branch
.” Yes, that was it. “The Templars were there, in 1179.” She nodded. “The journals are true. This proves it.” She leaned forward, happy to share her secret with the nice people. “Don’t tell anyone, but they brought their treasure with them.” She smiled. “Cameron thinks it still might be hidden there.”

  Detlef strolled into the examination room just as Jonas was finishing up questioning Amanda. Standing behind the bed, out of Amanda’s sightline, he caught his lieutenant’s eye. “Is it working?”

  Jonas nodded. “Yes. Perfectly. I think we’re done.” He handed over the notes he had been taking and smiled. “Looks like we have our location.”

  Detlef nodded. “The Catskills. Excellent. Stay here; I’ll be right back.”

  He stepped into the garage and dialed his sister’s cell.

  “You know, brother, I’m stuck in an accounting meeting. Which is supposed to be your job.”

  “Well, I’ve been doing other stuff. Dirty work. Which is supposed to be your job.”

  She grunted in response. “What do you want?”

  He explained how they had abducted and questioned Cameron Thorne’s wife. “She’s here now. Not sure what to do next.”

  “Will she go to the police?”

  “I can’t promise she won’t. I mean, we kidnapped her off the street and shot her full of truth serum. Most people would consider that a crime.”

  “We can’t let her do that, brother.”

  He took a deep breath. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “Yes.” She lowered her voice. “Opa warned us that someday we would need to make difficult decisions, do difficult things. That day is today.”

  “Okay.”

  “Yup.” A pause. “Okay.”

  Nobody spoke for a few seconds until Katarina broke the silence. “So, did we get what we needed?”

  “I think so.” His tone, like hers, had flattened. They were about to take a step which would change everything. “I’ll send you a written summary, but essentially the painting points to a spot in the Catskills on the West Branch of the Neversink River. Apparently, that’s where the treasure is.”

  “A specific spot, like an address?”

  Detlef responded. “Not exact, no. But we got the name of the guy Thorne is working for. Bruce Arrujo. From what we learned, Arrujo has a client who lives in the exact same area Amanda identified as the site of the treasure. I’m guessing that’s not a coincidence.”

  “But why would this guy Arrujo need Thorne to find the treasure for him if he already knew where it was?”

  “Good point,” Detlef replied. “We’ll keep digging. But for now, this property along the Neversink River seems to be ground zero.”

  Gus headed straight from Framingham to the Middlesex County courthouse in Woburn. It took him a while to find it—he was looking for an old brick or granite building with columns in the front. What he found was a modern glass structure overlooking Route 128, with the courthouse sharing space with a steak house. He was still having trouble adjusting to the new Boston. The old Charles Street jail was now a hotel, as was the Back Bay police headquarters. And the courthouse in Cambridge was now offices. “I guess a courthouse in an office park is fine, as long as I’m not here as a fucking defendant,” he said under his breath. He parked, slipped on a neck brace, and got out of his car.

  He entered and found the Civil Court clerk’s office. The discovery of Bruce’s medieval sword—which Gus guessed would turn out to be Templar—made him realize Thorne, the Templar expert, likely played a crucial part in whatever Bruce was planning. Which meant it was time to further entangle himself in Thorne’s life.

  Ten minutes later Gus had filled out the form and paid the $240 filing fee. He’d rather not have pissed away the cash but, hell, it was Bruce’s money anyway. Most people didn’t realize how easy it was to file a lawsuit. Prisoners quickly learned otherwise, many of them petitioning the court regularly with complaints and other legal motions. As Cameron Thorne would soon find out, you didn’t need to spend thousands on some fancy lawyer to do it for you.

  Even if you were suing someone for ten million bucks.

  Detlef finished the call with his sister and stepped back into the examination room. Again standing behind the bed out of sight of Amanda, who was now contentedly listening to music on headphones, he bit his lip and motioned Jonas closer. “Okay,” he said. “Tell everyone to leave the room, then lock the door.” Jonas looked at him inquisitively, but did as instructed. Heidi and the others left through the same door the nurse had used. Whispering, Detlef continued. “Now we have to dispose of her.”

  Jonas’ eyes widened. “Why?”

  “Because she’s seen you, seen your team. What if she goes to the police?”

  “Since when are we concerned about that? Yesterday we abducted Thorne and he didn’t go to the cops.”

  “I agree, that’s a loose end. It was just bad luck that he triggered the alarm. But at least it was a he-said, she-said. We had our lawyers get out in front of that, claiming he was injured and we brought him in for first aid, then let him go, blah blah blah.” He pointed his chin toward Amanda, still reclined on the hospital bed, euphoric but only semi-aware of her surroundings. “We’re not going to be able to explain this away. Especially after abducting her husband the day before.”

  “Exactly. And killing her is just going to make it worse.”

  “No. Killing her is going to make it better. She’s the only one who can ID you. We just have to make sure nobody finds the body. And by the time they do, we’ll be long gone.” He pursed his lips. “Things are escalating, I’m afraid.”

  “But I didn’t sign up to kill anyone, Detlef.”

  Detlef stepped a half foot closer, surprised at being questioned by his underling. “Look, Jonas, we’re not third-graders playing soldiers at recess here. This is the real world. This is war.” From a bag at his feet he handed Jonas a revolver with a silencer. “And in war, people die. We’re not animals. We’re not going to torture her or let the men at the gym have their way with her.” He held Jonas’ eyes. “But she has to go.”

  “You want me to shoot her, here?”

  “Yes. Then bury the body in the woods. I’ll have the nurse clean up.” He pushed the revolver at Jonas. “Here. Do it now.”

  “Why don’t you do it?”

  “Because I need to go back to Boston, back to the gym. I can’t have gunpowder residue on my hands. But you can disappear, go underground. I’m sorry, but we need this, Jonas.” Left unsaid was that Detlef, like a gang leader or mob boss, needed to know exactly whom he could count on when things turned ugly.

  Reluctantly, Jonas accepted the gun. With a long sigh, he turned and approached Amanda from behind. “Above the ear,” Detlef whispered, his mouth now dry. He had never actually killed before. Or seen anyone be killed. As much as this was a test for Jonas, it was also a test for him. After this, there would be no turning back. “Go ahead. Do it.”

  “But, she’s innocent. A civilian.”

  “I know.” Detlef swallowed. “But like I said: In war, people die.”

  Jonas took a deep breath. “Okay, then.” With a shaking hand he raised the revolver. His voice quavering, he counted down. “Three, two, one.” At one he took a deep breath and then, as if resolving some inner struggle, spun quickly. He fired three times in rapid succession, the barrel of the weapon only a foot from Detlef’s chest. Thud. Thud. Thud. Detlef’s shock gave way to fear and then a dull ache in his breastbone, as if having been punched.

  Detlef blinked a single time as he fell. “You’re right,” Jonas said, the words far away. “This is war. And in war, people die.”

  Jonas listened at the door to make sure the muffled gun shots had not alerted the other members of his team. Nothing. Exhaling, he stuffed the revolver into his jacket pocket, unstrapped the hospital bed restraints, and helped Amanda to her feet.

  “Thanks,” she gushed, removing her headphones. Apparently, she hadn’t even realized
he had killed a man only feet away. “You are the sweetest man!”

  As if to prove her point, he grabbed a blanket from a shelf and draped it over her shoulders. “Come on.” He shielded the body from her sight. “This way. Keep your voice down.”

  He led her to the garage and into the back seat of the van. Fortunately, he had kept the keys. He reversed out, racing down the driveway before anyone discovered Detlef’s body. He had made some enemies today. Or, more accurately, revealed his true colors to enemies who had thought him a friend.

  He drove fast, feeling liberated and unbridled. He had spent the past year-and-a-half in the belly of the beast. Now, finally, the whale that was the Waldburg family dynasty had disgorged him. He, Jonah—his real name, not Jonas—was finally free. The mission hadn’t ended as planned, but, then again, they rarely did. He was comfortable with his decision. It came down to shooting Amanda or shooting Detlef. No real decision there.

  His one regret, strangely, was Heidi. It struck him, suddenly, that he would miss her. That was the problem with undercover missions. You spent so much time and energy living in your fake persona that you actually began to believe the life you were living was a real one. If not careful, you might actually become your fake identity. He knew Jonas was attracted to Heidi. But had Jonah also been? Jonah had an apartment outside of Tel Aviv, a group of friends he hung out with, a hatred of Nazis and all they stood for. Jonah would never choose Heidi over Dina, the dark-eyed beauty who taught at the local elementary school. Or would he?

  Jonah shook the thought away and lowered his speed. He’d have plenty of time for introspection later, and the last thing he needed was to get pulled over. But where to? His priority was to drop Amanda off someplace safe—maybe her house, to avoid getting the authorities involved? She could figure it out from there, go hide if she needed to. Then he needed to contact his handler. Then, who knows? Back to Tel Aviv?