by K. T. Tomb
Chyna took the almost burnt book from Mark to see what he had been pointing at. Sure enough, at the bottom of the earmarked page were six words.
Take your aim. God protects it.
Memories of her time in the church came back to Chyna, and when she put her hand on the wheel again, she knew exactly where she was headed. It had taken less than a minute to solve this puzzle, and she knew why Ethan had worded it that way.
It could only be solved by someone who had visited the place.
***
“Chyna?” Mark asked from beside her. “Where are you going?”
“It’s at the altar, or somewhere around it,” Chyna explained to him, even though she did not want to. Mark might be a mole, but right now, she was all alone and he was her best bet for surviving if things went south.
“The altar?”
“Yes. The last time I came here, I found out that most of this church was destroyed in the bombings of Saxony during the Second World War. The only structures that survived were the altar and the chancel behind it. Like all places, this one too acquired its own rumors. Many believe that because the altar had a depiction of Jesus’ agony on it, God protected it. Do you get it now?”
By this time, both of them had reached the altar, and Chyna was already looking around for clues.
“Take your aim. God protects it… you think the bow is here.”
It wasn’t a question. Mark did not waste any more time and joined her in her search, only to be interrupted minutes later. Chyna called out to him, and he turned to find her bent over the depiction.
“Look at this. It’s askew.”
Chyna pointed toward the depiction. Sure enough, the statue of Jesus Christ was turned a little away from the light, nothing that could be noticed from a distance. Without wasting a moment, Chyna pushed with all her might, and placed the statue in its right position. There was a loud sound of a rock moving, and in the next moment, as a trapdoor collapsed to the ground, she realized that the statue was actually a secret gateway leading down to a path that she could see was lit with lamps.
“This just keeps on getting better and better,” Chyna grumbled, and Mark chuckled a little.
“I guess it’s a lost cause trying to tell you to stay out here while I investigate?” he asked Chyna, and if looks could kill, Mark would be six feet under the ground right about then.
“Look at you. You’re injured. You’re bound to screw this up more than I am,” Chyna stepped through the passage. “I guess it’s your turn to prove to me. Come on.”
She reached out for one of the lamps while Mark closed the door. Both of them heard the statue move into place above and prayed that it wouldn’t alarm whoever was down here. It was only when they were trapped inside the closed space that they heard something distinctive.
Chanting.
Exchanging confused looks, Chyna and Mark moved down the hallway, passing lamps which were placed intermittently along the walls to light the way. If their footsteps had been making any sound, they were drowned out by the chants and noises that grew consistently louder as they approached what seemed to be a break in the long, cylindrical passage.
Chyna focused a little more into the space and saw slivers of orange light filtering through at the other end where there was a wooden door. Two lamps flanked the entrance, which had an old, medieval-style knocker and a slot that could open to reveal what was on the other side. She guessed that the chanting was coming from behind the door, and more probably than not, a ritual was in progress.
Before they knew it, Chyna and Mark had reached the door, and they were both almost afraid of reaching for the handle in the slot to slide it open and see what was going on. Nevertheless, she took a deep cleansing breath, handed her lamp to Mark, reached for the handle of the peep slot and slid it open just a little to give herself a view of the interior.
Masons!
Chyna gasped, looking at the telltale robes and the symbols covering them. She and Mark were standing only a few feet away from the proceedings of a Masonic ritual. As uncharacteristic as it was for her, fear flooded her anatomy. Damn it, she wished she had more backup.
She couldn’t see the faces of the people in the robes. Chyna focused, and much to Mark’s protests, slid it open a bit more. The people inside seemed to be gathered around something in the center, chanting consistently in a monotone voice and a foreign language. The robes had hoods and long sleeves that covered them, and she cursed at not being able to see more than she could. Then, the sea of people parted and formed a large, spacious circle around the object of cynosure. Chyna’s eyes went as wide as saucers when she saw what it was.
The Ivory Bow was real after all, and it was right in the middle of a group of Masons who were worshipping it as one would a god.
“It’s there. I see it,” she whispered and felt Mark come closer to her.
“What, the bow?”
“Yeah, they’re in the middle of some ritual, going around it and—”
When Chyna abruptly stopped speaking, Mark knew then that his initial fears had gained some basis. There was something seriously wrong with the whole situation and Mark had been sensing it right from the beginning, but Chyna’s deafening silence coupled with the chants coming from the other side of the door only validated it.
“Chyna? Chyna?” Mark shook her, “What is it?”
She didn’t answer. Instead, she just backed away from the door, looking paler and sicker than he had ever seen her, motioning for him to look through the slot she had been watching the proceedings through.
Befuddled and scared, Mark peeped through the opening to see what had suddenly dumbfounded Chyna. He thought he had found it in the center of the room, all white and regal, until he looked at what—or rather who—was directly behind it.
The masons were still chanting, but their hoods had come off, and right behind the bow, taking center stage in the entire ritual was that ugly, one-eyed man that they had encountered in Vilnius; the one who had been leading the party that had been beating Emilijus up in Lithuania.
Chapter Five
“What do we do now?”
Mark’s voice resounded in Chyna’s ears. His question was clear and straightforward, but she did not have an answer for it. The odds were not in their favor. The room inside was full of Masons; at least fifteen members—including that one-eyed giant—who Chyna was sure would go to any lengths to protect their secret and whatever had been entrusted to them. Chyna and Mark were a small, partially disabled team.
“We can steal it.” Chyna shrugged.
“What? Are you crazy?” Mark’s eyes widened, and Chyna—very inappropriately—thought that it was funny. It wasn’t like she hadn’t stolen before.
“Of course not, but what else can we do? They’re Masons and they’ve been protecting the bow for years. We’re only two people, and need I remind you about your head?” Chyna argued, keeping in mind not to get too loud to attract attention.
Mark chose not to answer her but just kept staring in her direction. He alternated between looking at Chyna and the Masons inside for quite some time, as if debating the best course of action. His musings, however, were interrupted by an abrupt silence.
Suddenly, all the chanting in the room had stopped, and such deathly silence filled the cave, it could have made the crackling of fire sound like the breaking of bones. Mark pulled Chyna next to him and out of the line of sight of the slot in the door, and they both waited with bated breath. They wanted to slide the slot back into place to close it again, but were afraid that it would make too much noise and attract attention. It was an old door, after all.
Then, both heard a murmur and shuffling coming from inside the room. Chyna looked at Mark in confusion, and at great risk, leaned just a little to peep into the open slot and look inside. When she saw that the Masons were filing out of the room one by one into another adjoining chamber, she realized that this was more than just a random underground ritual. The Dresden Cathedral was housing a potenti
ally vast Masonic lodge beneath it, and that meant that Chyna and Mark’s chances had just gone from bad to worse. There could be thousands of miles of tunnels and passageways like this one, and it wasn’t as if there was anyone outside selling them a ‘Star Map’ of the sites.
“Okay, here’s the plan.” Mark was next to her, trying to get his fill of the view inside the room. “We steal it.”
“That’s what I said.” Chyna gave him a dead expression.
“Yes, but the chances of actually getting away with it weren’t as good then.”
“As if they have improved now,” she countered.
“At least now we can sneak in, get the bow and get out of here,” Mark replied, and Chyna agreed that his plan made much more sense. Chyna nodded and tried to turn the doorknob, but it was locked.
“The door.” She gestured toward it. “It’s locked.”
“Well, good thing you have nice hair then.”
Mark reached for Chyna’s hair and fished out one of the pins that she had used to secure her long black hair in a twist around her usual pony tail. Though Chyna didn’t want to admit it, she knew it was quick and common thinking on his part.
Mark leaned into it and fumbled with the door for a few moments, listening for sounds and such from the lock, and before he knew it, they heard a small click. Then, as he put his hand on the knob and turned it, the door swung open without making so much as a sound and they were standing in the doorway, just feet away from the Ivory Bow.
“Holy shit,” Mark whispered, voicing exactly what Chyna had been thinking.
There was minimal lighting in the stone room; clearly it had been dug out of the very foundations of the ancient building above them. The only light in the room came from an overhead lamp that shone down in the center, right above the bow, giving it an orange-colored, incandescent hue. Even from near the door, Chyna could see the exquisite handiwork and carvings on it, made so carefully that each crevice appeared as a dark ridge and each surface as smooth as linen. The bow itself was curved like a woman’s body, accentuated more so by the ends that curled like tresses. It had been bolstered on a stand that cradled it like an object of reverence.
“It’s beautiful.” The words escaped Chyna’s mouth inadvertently.
“Yes, it is.”
“Let’s take it.”
“Yeah.”
Both Chyna and Mark approached the bow, as if taking in the majesty of the ivory and the exquisite craftsmanship in one stride. Chyna surveyed the stand from all directions, looking for any catches or booby traps. There seemed to be none. Both of them stared at each other from either side of it.
“So… we just take it?” Mark asked, and Chyna shrugged.
“No, you don’t.”
The voice did not belong to either Chyna or Mark. They both turned to face the direction where it came from, only to see that the one-eyed man was standing in the doorway that he and his company had just gone through. Behind him, was the entire group of Masons.
The room was so silent that Chyna thought she could hear her heart beating in her chest. Then, all hell broke loose.
“Run!” Mark screamed, and without thinking, Chyna grabbed the bow and sprinted toward the doorway.
“Oh, no, you don’t! Get them!” They heard the shouts somewhere behind them, but they didn’t care.
Their legs took them the same way they had come, back toward the statue. Then Chyna remembered they had closed the trap door on their way in.
“Mark! Mark!” She could hear the Masons behind them, and they were closing in. “We closed the trap door!”
She was breathless, and her chest was heaving with pain. She felt weak with exertion.
That’s what you get for not eating anything, she thought sarcastically.
“No, we didn’t.” Mark was panting as they finally reached the door. Behind them came shadows and fire. They had only moments. “There’s never a trap door without an out. There’s a lever here.”
Mark pointed to the wall that had been hidden from them when the trapdoor had been down earlier. Sure enough, Chyna could see the outline of a lever. Without thinking, he reached out and pulled it. The trapdoor fell.
“Come on!” Mark climbed up and stretched his hand, “Take my hand!”
Chyna felt weak and dizzy, but she collected her strength, mustered up the courage and jumped with all of her might, latching on. However, as soon as Mark started to pull her up, she felt a hand wrap around her ankle.
The Masons had caught up.
“Damn it!” Chyna cursed. With abandon, she kicked and flailed. “Mark!”
Her Finnish companion looked panicked and strained, and she knew he would not be able to hold on much longer. The last thing she wanted was to fall prey to the Masons. With the bow clutched in her hand and the other holding on to Mark, Chyna heaved. She looked at the one-eyed Man, who was trying his damndest to pull her down, and kicked him right in the face.
Let his other eye fall out, she thought maliciously.
One Eye wasn’t expecting the attack. As soon as Chyna’s boot hit his face, he keeled over. That was when Chyna saw her opportunity. She pushed one last time and before she knew it, she was out of the hole and she and Mark collapsed onto the church floor.
Mark didn’t give her a chance to breathe, he stood up and pulled her to her feet and all but dragged her down the stairs. Chyna knew it was all the lack of oxygen from being in a cave below the ground that was making her head spin, but somehow she gained some strength mid run and caught up. Behind them, the Masons and One Eye were starting to pour out of the ground. But they were far enough behind for Chyna and Mark to outrun them, and Chyna thought that they couldn’t exactly make a scene in the city.
They were only a few feet away from the cathedral’s main door when it swung open, and for the first time in days, Chyna felt a glimmer of hope. She couldn’t, however, for the life of her understand why it had somehow come with somebody she had never hoped to see.
Tony… and the Illuminati.
***
“Tony...”
Chyna’s words weren’t much more than a whisper as she and Mark came to a halt, as did the Masons behind them. The two were surrounded and the relief that surged through Chyna at the sight of Tony had washed away her fatigue and dizziness. Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness she felt at the silence in the church. And there was something distinctly different about him, something—Chyna was almost afraid to say the word—sinister.
“Chyna,” Tony sneered at her.
Yes, something was definitely wrong. This was not his usual demeanor. She looked over his shoulder to the people who stood behind him. There was no mistaking who they were. Chyna almost couldn’t believe her eyes, but no, the All-Seeing Eye on their red robes was too well known to be mistaken for anything else. They were, much to Chyna’s disbelief, members of the Illuminati.
With a growing sense of fear and suspicion, Chyna narrowed her eyes. “Tony, what’s going on?”
Chyna’s stomach dropped when she saw the look on Tony’s face; he just seemed to be looking right through her. They were not the eyes of the man she had known for fifteen years; the man in front of her was a stranger. When she saw him reach for his gun, her fears were validated. There was a hell of a lot of back story missing here. Instinctively, Chyna drew the SIG from its holster, handed Mark the bow and raised her arms to shoulder height, putting Tony in her sights.
“Shit, Chyna,” Tony hissed but he looked far from fazed or repentant or… anything at all. “I was kind of hoping for another way to do this, but... remember the story about the mole? You must have figured by now that it was me.”
All of the breath left Chyna’s body as she processed his words. Beside her, Mark was a statue. It was a complete turn of events, and a grim one at that.
“Wha... I don’t understand... You’re an FBI agent. All these years, we’ve…” Chyna murmured, allowing her words to trail off. She was speechless.
“Yes, I
figured you wouldn’t. How many times have I told you over the years, Babe? For such a ridiculously smart woman, you sure can be stupid at times.” Tony, the stranger, smiled at her, but there was nothing warm and compassionate about the gesture. “I’m an Illuminatus. And this,” he mentioned to the group, “is our society... well, some of it at least.”
Chyna felt sick to her core.
“You see, the Illuminati, the earlier generation that is, swallowed up the Schlaraffia way back in 1946, just after the war. I mean, how could we not? They were just a bunch of stupid men who thought that art and poetry and that other shit was worth risking their necks to preserve and develop. Yes, yes, it may have been important at the time, but times have changed now, Chyna!”
Tony was suddenly using hand gestures to make his point, something that he had never done before and Chyna began to truly doubt whether she had ever really known him.
Facades are not hard to maintain, Chyna. All you need are the right incentives. His words came back to hit her like a ton of bricks.
“There’s no need for the protection of knowledge and shit like that now; not in the modern age of technology we live in. Information is finally king and the Illuminati almost became obsolete holding on to that as their main purpose. That’s Apple and Microsoft’s job now; we’ve left that to the Internet. It’s all about power and the procurement of the treasures of the past, and it’s here, with us. We’re the new Illuminati—revised, revamped but still true to our values!”
His superfluous words were just a jumble in Chyna’s mind, just like the situation at hand. For all she knew, Tony had her heart in his hand and was crushing it as he spoke. There was a pain rising inside of her and she almost wished for the dizziness to come back so she could forget it. But then her training and her instinct kicked in and Chyna leveled the gun at Tony’s chest and lowered her chin to her arm to get him back into her sights.
“I see you have the Ivory Bow,” he commented, looking over at Mark, then he turned back to her and shook his head slowly. “Always taking things that don’t belong to you, aren’t you? Hand it over, Mr. Gunnar and lower your gun, Chyna. It’s not like you’ll ever work up the nerve to shoot me.”
