by Rick Jones
After the porters left, Hayden called out only to hear his voice echo back at him, the acoustics poor. On the far wall directly across the bed was a 100” 4K high-def quality TV. Just as Kimball was about to test the bed for comfort, the TV winked on. It was Mr. da Vinci.
“Good evening, Mr. Hayden. I do hope that your trip was a good one.”
“It was fine. Thank you.”
“I know you’re tired,” said Mr. da Vinci. “Before we meet, would you prefer to get some rest?”
“No,” said Hayden. “I’m fine. I need to get acclimatized to the time change any way.”
“Very good, then. We’ve much to discuss in so little time. Once you get settled, please have the porters outside your door escort you to my office.”
“I’m good to go now.”
“Very well, then. I’ll see you in a few minutes.” Then the picture reduced itself to a light mote in the center of the screen, then disappeared.
A moment later, the porters opened the door and waited for Hayden to join them.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Lucerne, Switzerland
Salt.
At one point in his life he was a truly pious man whose virtues were steeped in Christianity. But over the years he had seen too many injustices as people became corrupted souls steeped in darkness. There was war, starvation, executions, and ungodly treatments against the good, the kind and the innocent.
In time when he no longer felt in tune with the core values of his religion, he urged himself to serve the church better by working in darkness to serve the Light. Instead of spreading Christianity by the sword as the Knights Templar did, he did so by the pointed barrel of a gun.
For years he had honed his skills as an assassin and eventually came to believe that he was a soldier of God. When others believed that his extremist outlook had a sense of zealousness to it, he believed that he was fully grounded in his religious conviction. ‘Look at the world,’ he would tell people. Societal breakdown was all around him as terrorism, prejudice and lack of tolerance were becoming the norm with no end in sight. Heightened tensions were growing between nations, especially between the superpowers. And the only way to curb these disturbances was to force the Light into blackened hearts.
After offering his mercenary services to Christian fanatical groups who sought to change the world but had no practical means to make measurable strides, he had seen an opportunity when Elias Caspari proposed the vision of creating a society where there was only one rule under one voice. The idea of a totalitarian government would be a systematic approach to sustain an ideal society. More so, people like Caspari had the financial strength to stamp out wars and bring forward a new vision.
But there would be costs, Elias Caspari told him during the moment of his recruitment. It’s time to kill the few for the good of the many, if we’re to save our kind in the long run. And there’s no point in extending an olive branch to our enemies, only for it to be returned to us in rejection.
To Salt, Caspari sounded like a missionary from God who made sense. Reaching out a hand in peace no longer worked. The world was vastly changing in ways that many believed was the beginning of The End of Days. In time, Salt began to steal lives in the name of Heaven—and Elias Caspari—so he could justify his action in the end. It’s time to kill the few for the good of the many, if we’re to save our kind in the long run. Caspari’s words rang abundantly clear through his mind every time he pulled the trigger.
His wife had never questioned his activities or knew that he was an assassin who killed for the sake of ‘good’ to promote a better future. To her, he was a simple businessman who traveled the globe to keep food on the table and a roof over their heads.
When he accepted Caspari’s offer to join his association of soldiers, he would only do so if given the right to rule over the unit, which was granted. And it was a move he knew that Caspari would regale over after observing someone like him operate with the cold fortitude of a machine.
As Salt looked in the mirror, he looked into eyes that had an icy chill to them and saw little by way of feeling or compassion.
After rubbing his hands over his face as if to wipe away his true self to don his second skin of cheerfulness, he went to the balcony, gave his wife an obligatory peck on the cheek, feigned a smile, and told her that he was going to work.
Dressed appropriately in a suit and tie, Salt left the apartment and headed for Deep Mountain.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The Consortium Stronghold
Cochem, Germany
Kimball Hayden quickly found himself sitting in Mr. da Vinci’s office alongside another man who’d been introduced to him as Mr. Spartan. With Mr. Spartan and Hayden sitting on one side of the desk and Mr. da Vinci on the other, it was Mr. da Vinci who opened a dialogue of discussion.
“Thank you, Mr. Hayden, for aiding the Consortium on this operation. You came highly recommended by Father Auciello.”
“And please,” he said, “call me Kimball.”
“As you’re aware, the Vatican and the Consortium have had an amiable relationship for centuries.”
Hayden looked at Mr. da Vinci’s nameplate, which read GRAND MASTER. “And that,” he said, pointing, “is your title?”
“Grand Master? Yes. I come from a long line of them, with the first Grand Master being Michel de Nostredame, whom the world knows as Nostradamus.”
“Yeah. I saw the statues,” said Hayden. “I just never made the connection. Especially with the cross of the Knights Templar etched upon the crucible he’s holding.”
Then from Mr. Spartan, “How much do you know about Nostradamus or the Knights Templar?” he asked. “I’m talking about their histories.”
“Well, I know the Knights Templars were believed to be in control of a great treasure which was never found, which allegedly included the Ark of the Covenant. I also know that the Grand Master of the Knights Templar, Jacques de Molay, was burned at the stake in 1314 because King Philip the Fourth of France was deeply in debt to him, so he worked in collusion with Pope Clement to disband the unit by declaring them heretics in order to avoid payment.”
“That’s the historical account, yes,” said Mr. Spartan. “Now what about Nostradamus?”
“I assume what everyone knows about him.”
“Such as?”
“That he used the crucible as a conduit to see into the future. But because of the pandemic fear of witchcraft, he disguised his visions as coded verses. What he called quatrains.”
Mr. Spartan eased back into his seat with his hands clasped together. “Very good, Kimball.”
“Is there a reason why you’re asking me this?”
“To give you a foundation as to where we come from,” said Mr. da Vinci. “Our roots are tied with the moral compass of the Knights Templar, though we are an organization independent of the Knights’ creed.” Mr. da Vinci leaned forward in his seat with a half-smile. “Tell me, what would you say if I told you that Nostradamus couldn’t tell the future any more than you and I could?”
“I wouldn’t know what to say,” Hayden answered while shrugging.
“What if I told you that the quatrains weren’t predictions at all, but veiled messages regarding the secrets not only of the Knights Templar, but in history, in general. Such as the wealth and bounties of treasures, ancient historical manuscripts regarding Biblical truths, answers to what scholars have been seeking for centuries?”
“I don’t understand,” said Hayden.
“Nostradamus’ alleged foresight into the future was subterfuge to mislead scholars from discovering the truth behind the stanzas. The crucible he used to allegedly see his visions is a key to deciphering many of the riddles within the quatrains. Inside the bowl are numerals and archaic symbols that when used properly, can reveal the secrets within the stanzas.”
“And how do the Knights Templar fit in with Nostradamus? How did he become a Grand Master from all this?”
“Hence the statues, which I assume is in homage,” Kimball stated.
“That’s correct,” said Mr. Spartan.
Da Vinci continued to outline the society’s history. “After Nostradamus died and was interred inside a French Chapel before his remains were reinterred at the Collégiale Saint-Laurent, the crucible, after the symbols and numerals were collected by Consortium scribes and banked within the Vault, the bowl itself was buried beneath his tomb. It was a treasure that Nostradamus wished to be buried with because he believed that he would be taking the key to the grave with him.”
“Obviously, that’s not the case since one of the treasures you’re asking me to seek is the crucible itself.”
Mr. da Vinci nodded. “About three weeks ago one of our operatives, Mr. Copernicus, was found murdered alongside his family in his apartment in Paris. He was the Guardian of Crypts. And the Tomb of Nostradamus was under his watchful eye. We believe his position was compromised by the Shadow Klan, who sent forward an assassin who forced him to yield the whereabouts of the crucible.”
“How would they even know about the relic in the first place? I would think that such information would be closely guarded.”
“As did we,” said Mr. da Vinci. “Especially when we have one of the safest firewall structures in the world. Yet our data system was breached but we didn’t know from whom, since there were minimal traces of a cyber-trail that eventually disappeared. We now believe it was the Shadow Klan, obviously. Histories, biographical records, operative locations—a lot of our field agents had to be pulled in fear that they had been exposed.”
“And that’s how they found out about the crucible,” Hayden stated. “That it was a key to unimaginable secrets under the command of Mr. Copernicus. They just didn’t know where it was, but Copernicus did.”
“That’s right,” said Mr. da Vinci. “And now they have the key to open many more doors, which the Consortium must keep closed.”
“So, I’m going to assume that they were able to use the crucible as the key that unlocked the mystery of the treasure that had been hidden away for centuries by the Knights Templar?”
Mr. da Vinci nodded. “Obviously. There’s a quatrain regarding Hister. Do you recall it?”
“Yeah. It’s one of the most famous of Nostradamus’ stanzas. It’s about Hitler. Only the spelling was off by a single letter.”
“Most of the quatrain is gibberish and padded with nonsensical meaning. Few words, however, had true meaning. The key was to find the proper wordage to unlock and piece together the true meaning, using a few words. All the quatrains were developed to be like that. To find the answers, you must use the crucible. Apparently, the Shadow Klan discovered the means, which is disconcerting.”
“Then what exactly is the meaning behind Hister?” asked Hayden.
“Hister,” said Mr. Spartan, “used to be the name of the region, which is now northwest Croatia, which was the site of the bunker that stored the treasure belonging to the Knights Templar. The army mentioned was not the league of Nazis as scholars interpret it to be, but the Knights Templar. The rest of the quatrain is nothing more than masking wordplay as I said before, to direct scholars away from the proper track of interpretation. Hister, now northwest Croatia, was where the Ark of the Covenant was stored.”
“And inside the Ark,” Hayden started, while leaning forward in his chair, “was Aaron’s rod. And within the head of this staff is the Eye of Moses.”
Mr. da Vinci nodded. “Father Auciello has briefed you, I see.”
“On some of what you told me. Not all of it. And now you want it back.”
“The staff itself, of course, has Biblical meaning beyond appreciation,” Mr. Spartan added. “But it’s not the staff we’re trying to recover here. It’s the dark particle that’s trapped within a crystallized cocoon we want before the Shadow Klan can break down its destructive components for the utilization of weapons of mass destruction.”
“From a single particle?”
“This particle, Kimball,” Mr. da Vinci intervened, “is believed to be a remnant from the Big Bang almost fourteen billion years ago. Its power is still being felt today by distant galaxies as the particles continue to push through space and towards the farthest reaches. Its unstoppable. And if the Shadow Klan learns even a marginal aspect of its power, it can prove devastating to every continent on this planet.”
“Tell me about this Shadow Klan,” said Kimball. “What exactly are we up against?”
“A lot,” Mr. Spartan returned. Then: “Have you ever heard of the New World Order? Or the NWO?”
“Yeah. Isn’t the NWO basically a conspiracy theory about a clandestine power elite whose global agenda is to rule the world through a totalitarian government system that will overcome and replace sovereign nations?”
“That’s exactly what it is,” said Mr. Spartan. “The Shadow Klan is very real and shares the very same agenda. In fact, there’s speculation that the Shadow Klan may be a black-ops arm of the New World Organization. Though this is unsubstantiated.”
“So, you plan to take on this group. This Shadow Klan. With all the arms you can carry.” He said these as statements and not questions.
“We’ve no choice,” said Mr. da Vinci. “As the Knights Templar rode into battle to do what they considered just, those within the Consortium must do the same. We're not bound by what the Knights Templar did in the past, such as to promote Christianity by the blade of the sword. But there are times, Kimball, when we have to raise a hand against our enemies to protect those who cannot protect themselves.”
“Kimball,” this came from Mr. Spartan. “We at the Consortium have obvious ties to the Past. You, being a part of the Vatican—well, you’re a part of the Present. And the Shadow Klan represents a dark Future should they continue with their agenda. If the Past and the Present do nothing and stand idly by, which would encourage bad behavior on the part of the Shadow Klan, then there is a great possibility that there will be no Future. Remember that.”
“Do you even know where they are? Is there a starting point?”
“We’re working on that,” said Mr. da Vinci. “We’ve been able to tap into the data banks of geospatial satellites. On the night of the attack against the bunker, there was a chopper in a nearby field close to the site. The time stamps on the surveillance footage to the time the chopper lifted off after the assault, leads us to believe that it was an extraction vehicle. At this time, our tech unit is piecing together data from a string of satellite feeds to connect the dots and determine where exactly the chopper landed. That will be our starting point.”
“And those who are going to be involved with the mission?” Kimball asked Mr. da Vinci.
“Mr. Spartan is an elite officer and a soldier who will command the unit. Besides you, there will be seven others. All good men.”
Hayden didn’t know the skillset of those within the Shadow Klan, but assumed they were elite fighters with high-end military superiority. Taking out members of the Consortium guards who minded the gates in Croatia could not have been an easy task. Yet from snippets of conversation he was able to pick up, it wasn’t much of a battle at all. In fact, the Shadow
Klan were so well coordinated that they were able to overwhelm the Consortium unit with little difficulty.
Then from Kimball: “Eight against how many?”
“Does it matter?” said Mr. da Vinci.
“It does to me.”
“Believe me when I say this, Kimball, those you’ll be with are not only the best of the best, they’re the best of the best of the best.”
For some reason, this didn’t make Kimball Hayden feel at ease. They don’t have a plan, he thought. Right now, we’re going into this blind.
Whether it was something on Hayden’s face that Mr. da Vinci was able to read and intuit, he said, “It’ll be fine, Kimball. Trust me. When my people are focused, there’s no one who can stop them.”
Then Hayden wondered if the team that had been taken out at the Croatian bunker was focused. If they were, then his ill-at-ease level would ratchet up a few notches. Now, more than ever, he wished he had the backing of the Vatican Knights. What was Pope Clement thinking?
Then: “Is that all?” Kimball asked.
“Consider the briefing over,” Mr. da Vinci told him. “Go back to your room and get some rest. When our tech team tracks the trajectory of the chopper, we’ll let you know.”
Nodding, Kimball Hayden stood up, gave a nod to the man seated beside him, then asked, “Spartan. Is that your first name or last?”
“It’s just Spartan.”
Adding nothing more, Kimball Hayden crossed the chamber and closed the door behind him.
