She shook her head. ‘How? Mills won’t let anything interfere.’
‘I’m afraid that’s where you are wrong; Mr. Mills does exactly as I tell him to. You see
‘I own the Tribunal.’
64
Robert broke the door of the castle and led the others through. The door was old, constructed mostly of wood, and located on the east side of the outer wall. As best the monk could tell, the area was used as the postern, though this had been changed in recent years. The lower part of the wall was the weakest part of the castle. An iron grille crossed the only open area, used as a drainage system.
Inside, Robert led the way across the outer perimeter, stopping on reaching the second set of walls. Like most castles of the era, it was concentric in design, though as best he could tell there was no keep on the inside.
For now they were alone. There were no guards, nor any sign of life.
Scott looked at Robert. ‘It’s like a fucking ghost town.’
Mills looked on nervously. ‘Master Anson, I cannot go any further. If I am spotted, my life will be over in ways you cannot possibly imagine.’
Robert recognised the accuracy of the words. ‘Very well, and thank you.’
‘I will stay in the helicopter. If things go badly, I shall be waiting.’
Inside the castle, a guard standing by the monitor watched as a series of silhouettes moved in the darkness. For several seconds their movement failed to register. The image seemed to remain permanent, simple blackness. But the sensor identified movement.
Only then could he see them.
Robert stopped again on reaching the second wall and waited for the others to catch up. He gritted his teeth, knowing that the area would be well guarded and that anything of importance would be hidden from sight.
Matt followed, as did the others, keeping close to the wall. He felt his chest tighten. The night was cold, his breath visible. But inside he felt warm, that even the slightest rise in temperature would be like a heat wave.
The feeling was surreal. The grip of the weapon in his hand in the darkness could be easily mistaken for something less potent, as if he was holding a piece of plastic.
Yet the beating of his heart affirmed what he knew. He was part of something bigger than he was. Perhaps he would die this night.
Yet to that, he felt only indifference. Whatever his father’s purpose, his family’s purpose, it had been bigger than he could possibly have dreamed.
Robert led the way along the wall and stopped again, this time approaching a clearing.
What he saw was incredible. It was a gigantic temple out of Scripture. Despite its size, the structure had not been visible from the outside.
For the first time, he noticed the problems. The area was heavily guarded.
He turned, keeping his back to the wall. He exhaled heavily and turned to face Matt.
‘This is no place for a greenhorn,’ Robert said. ‘What the hell was I thinking?’
‘My friends are in there,’ Matt said. ‘I’m not leaving them.’
‘Yes, you are. You and Scott stay here.’
‘This isn’t just about you.’
‘You’re right; it’s about something greater than any of us.’
They looked one another in the eye.
‘Stay here. Don’t move unless I contact you.’
65
Nicole’s expression was one of disbelief. ‘You own the Tribunal?’
The man of Lebanon looked back through the bars. ‘My business portfolio need not concern you,’ he said without emotion. ‘The business proposal came about at a time when the newspaper was in danger of going under. The paper and my people have much in common. It seemed a shame to see such heritage go to the dogs.’
Nicole’s head was spinning. She thought about her past, the paper’s past, the omitted articles. The Tribunal was the man’s personal propaganda tool.
The door opened suddenly. A masked gunman entered and blurted out words in a language Nicole couldn’t understand.
The terrorist looked back. ‘I must leave you now.’
He walked away quickly, leaving Nicole staring at stone. Her heart was pounding, and her eyes watering. She turned, seeing Amanda and the stranger looking at her.
Then she felt tears trickle down her face.
Amanda stepped forward and hugged her. Sandra smiled awkwardly, placing her hand on her shoulder.
Nicole faced Amanda. ‘I thought you were dead.’
‘When I got back that night, someone was waiting. I didn’t have a clue. Then I woke up here.’ She felt the tears stream uncontrollably. ‘They killed Gladstone.’
Nicole nodded, all the while concentrating on Amanda’s eyes. Then she turned to face Sandra.
‘This is Professor Richards,’ Amanda explained. ‘She’s the author you were looking for.’
Nicole nodded and held out a hand. ‘I know who you are.’
She forced a smile. ‘Sandra.’
‘Nicole.’
Sandra’s smile faded. ‘The man’s name is Wilfred Mansell. He is one of the world’s most dangerous terrorists.’
‘He gave me the gist. I can’t believe he owns the Tribunal.’
Amanda nodded awkwardly. ‘I was looking up the last death on the list, you know, the one who died in Switzerland.’
Nicole nodded.
‘Turns out he wasn’t a doctor. He was a member of MI6.’
‘Oh my God.’
‘The article was by Milton Tomlin. Apparently the man was killed after foiling a terrorist attack.’
Amanda shook to fight the tears.
‘He was planning on bombing the mosque in Jerusalem.’
Robert led the others around the inner wall, stopping on the opposite side of the temple. Wherever he went, the result was the same. At least ten guards were stationed on either side, their features concealed by ski masks.
Standing next to him was Niven.
‘I don’t like the look of this,’ Robert said.
‘Their numbers are hardly greater than ours.’
Robert shook his head. ‘That’s just the outside. There must be more inside.’
He exhaled, his attention on the outer walls. There was a door cut into the second wall.
He looked over his shoulder and moved quickly toward the door. Predictably it was locked.
Robert checked once more for guards and shot at the lock with a silenced gun.
The door swung open.
‘Let’s see where this leads.’
Back in the control room, Wilfred Mansell watched the monitor. At first, he struggled to see what was in front of him. The darkness that enveloped the screen, a product of the lack of natural light against stone surroundings, showed no signs of improving. According to the clock, it was still at least four hours before dawn.
He watched the men stopping by the wall.
‘Who are they?’ he asked in his native tongue.
The man was unsure. In reality, he assumed it was a stupid question.
Only one group of people would be stupid enough to play that game.
The door opened easily. Robert led the way down the narrow staircase, revealing a narrow passage devoid of natural light. As best Robert could tell, the area was unmanned and otherwise deserted.
He removed a torch, risking light. It confirmed what he already assumed. There were no CCTV cameras or electronic lookout equipment, only one direction of seemingly endless walkway. The tunnel appeared to be unused and unimportant, but Robert reasoned that it might take them somewhere closer to the occupied areas of the castle.
They followed the tunnel, risking only the light of one torch. Less than two minutes later, they reached an opening beyond which the tunnel wound gently from left to right in a circular motion.
The location was obvious. They had reached the western section, directly in line with the temple.
Robert paused, surveying their options. To their left was nothing but wall, in front of him the tunnel conti
nued.
The area of interest was to the right. Where stone walls, reminiscent of a Templar castle, existed there was now something odd. Another wall, apparently constructed of rock but completely flat. A large control panel was mounted beside the door.
Robert investigated it further. ‘It’s code operated.’
Niven cursed under his breath. ‘We have no chance.’
Robert retreated, seeking alternatives. Suddenly he heard a noise. He shone the light. Inexplicably the wall was moving.
‘Get back.’
He attempted to move but froze. A blinding, harsh light had appeared in front of him. He squinted, shielding his eyes with his hand. Then he heard sounds.
‘Drop your weapons, my friends.’
The voice was unmistakeable. Though he had never met the man, it resonated clear as day. A figure appeared in front of him, followed by several others. Then more appeared behind him.
‘Greetings,’ the man said, ‘son of Anson.’
From a secluded alcove, Matt watched nervously as a posse of men abandoned their posts outside the temple and moved quickly in the direction of the outer wall.
He heard commands in a foreign tongue.
‘Get down.’
A sudden echo of boots on stone followed. Matt lowered himself to the ground, taking care to remain as silent and as still as possible. Beside him, Scott did the same thing.
Then the sound passed. Slowly, Matt chanced raising his head. The men were heading away from sight.
He looked over his shoulder in the other direction. Directly in front of them, the temple was there, its silhouette cloaking the darkness. He licked his dry lips and looked again over his shoulder.
‘Quick, this is our chance,’ Scott exclaimed.
‘What?’
‘We won’t get another chance at this.’
Matt shook his head, attempting to grip reality. ‘Robert said not to.’
‘Don’t be a pussy, Matt; those guys weren’t sprinting away from their posts for no reason.’
He looked back with worried eyes. The thought suddenly struck him. Had Robert and the Knights of Arcadia been taken?
Scott edged closer. ‘Come on. It’s now or never.’
In the control room, a single monitor displayed the two men from Scotland moving quickly across the deserted courtyard. Their movement was quick and graceful, their footfalls barely registering against the stone floor.
Seconds later, another screen tracked them as they stopped outside the main door, hanging like those outside a Gothic cathedral. It showed them pause before opening the door and entering, leaving no hint of their presence.
Their progress beyond went unnoticed.
The room was deserted.
66
Nicole was dumbstruck. For several seconds she was unable to hide her surprise at hearing the news.
Amanda looked back, equally strained. ‘Milton Tomlin had written another article, this one several years earlier and unpublished. When the 2006 Lebanon conflict started, he discovered a third group who had been planting bombs on both sides. He discovered the group had been playing both Israel and Hezbollah against each other, even funding certain events.’
Nicole shook her head, awestruck. ‘Oh my God.’
‘But Lebanon is just part of the process,’ Amanda said. ‘Lebanon’s only relevance is because it occupies areas once ruled by Mansell’s ancestors. The true goal was Jerusalem.’
Sandra’s eyes lit up. ‘Of course, what better symbol than the rebuilding of the Temple of Solomon, including the bones of the king himself. This is the symbol that would change the Middle East.’
Nicole was watching with alarm. ‘If this is true, then the effects could be cataclysmic.’
Nicole turned, but was cut off by Amanda.
‘Tomlin is dead, Mansell told me that much,’ she said, this time slightly more calmly than before. ‘Everyone who died did so because they knew too much.’
Sandra said, ‘If these men really are descendents of the Jahbulon religion, then their goal is practically identical to every other terrorist organisation in the world. To eradicate infidels and enforce their own law.’
Wilfred Mansell watched the expressions of each intruder as they entered the Holy of Holies. He knew that the abbot in particular would find great reverence from the area. He knew that, apart from himself, the abbot was the only person really capable of understanding its real importance.
The thought itself was humbling.
Robert was the first to enter. Immediately his eyes were dazzled by the peculiar array of light that attacked his retinas. The experience was frightening yet altogether different from what he had experienced minutes earlier. No longer were high-powered lights being shone in his face, instead the effect was a natural one. He had heard of the legendary interior of the First Temple, in its day a wonder of the world, comparable to only the most extravagant buildings of the modern day. Strange, he always thought that the buildings of the present rarely matched the sheer exquisite nature of those of the past. He assumed the man from Tyre felt the same way.
Mansell stood on a pedestal and looked down at the leaders. He recognised Robert, but the others were masked.
‘My friends, it is uncivilised to address one in such a way. Please, remove your headwear.’
Slowly, those at the front complied, whereas the others waited. Landry and Anson both showed their faces. Then came the abbot.
‘Abbot Winter,’ Mansell said, nodding in his direction, ‘you are most welcome.’
The abbot looked back with worried eyes. He felt the experience to be strenuous. He was too old for such things and had been for some time. He inhaled deeply and wetted his lips.
The man from Tyre held his position. Standing either side were a number of guards, plus two others. One was el Tutken, the other Ben Fulda.
Mansell looked at the Arcadians. ‘When the wise King of Jerusalem sent out word to the King of Tyre, he was most joyous to assist in the creation of the temple. Tradition has it that King Hiram sent his best stonemason, his namesake, and most trusted ally,’ he said, gesturing with his arms. ‘Then, once the temple was created, the wise king married many wives. The most favoured, the daughter of Pharaoh.’ He looked at the Egyptian scholar as he spoke. ‘There the trilogy was completed.’
The abbot looked at him closely, but remained silent.
Landry spoke. ‘It’s a shame you base your actions only on traditions.’
He looked back and smiled. ‘They are your traditions also,’ he said. He moved slowly, his eyes never leaving the intruders. ‘When the First Temple was completed, God commanded that there be included a shrine where the tomb of Solomon would rest. There it stayed. And for over four hundred years the people of Israel celebrated in the name of the Hebrew God.’
He paused.
‘In time, the wisdom of the wise king became sacred to others as well. The King of Phoenicia was simply overcome with emotion on seeing merely a single parchment of his writing.’
He looked at the abbot.
‘For over seven hundred years the Templi Desertores have continued to watch over the light, as you like to say. Why?’
The question was to no one in particular.
The abbot answered. ‘You are dealing with something you cannot possibly comprehend.’
Matt turned on reaching the door and immediately changed direction. He stopped at an alcove and paused for breath.
In the poor light he heard rather than saw Scott coming in beside him.
He looked over his shoulder. The large Gothic doors to the temple rattled slightly on their hinges. From outside, the sharp noise of the wind was audible, whistling through the gaps and creating an incessant pounding sensation.
He moved on, heading through a second archway leading to a minor corridor. Then he came to a third archway, this time concealed by double doors.
He stopped in front of it and placed his ear to the cracks, straining for any sign of life. All he heard was
silence.
He breathed deeply and opened the door, holding his gun at the ready. What awaited him was unexpected.
‘Jeez Laweez,’ Scott said.
Back in the main control room, a lone occupant sat watching the screen. Two individuals were walking slowly toward the heart of the temple.
He considered his options and cursed the circumstances. Everyone else had been ordered into the Holy of Holies.
He would have to deal with this one himself.
Nicole pushed and pulled against the door, failing to make any progress. By now rationality had subsided and been replaced by simple rage. She cursed herself for not leaving the story alone.
Sandra had given up watching, her attention on the ground. Her mind wandered, contemplating the possibility of a miraculous escape. She had seen the same thing happen over and over in crap movies that defied the laws of plausibility.
But this was no movie.
She looked at the door and then at Nicole and Amanda.
All that awaited them was death.
67
Rather than seeing a room of religious importance, the sight that befell Matt and Scott as they passed through the double doors was far less easy to define.
A large black-and-white chequered floor was the main feature of the centre of the room. Placed at equal points were two artificial pillars, similar to those found in Masonic Lodges. Flanking the main centre of the room were hundreds if not thousands of murals. To Matt, the images looked vaguely Egyptian, but unlike anything he had ever seen on television, in books, or in real life.
They walked slowly, determined to avoid attracting attention by straying too near to the centre of the room. They continued in the direction of the far corner, the only area that suggested further openings.
The Larmenius Inheritance Page 43
