The Dane Maddock Adventures Boxed Set Volume 2

by David Wood

  By the time he reached the street, the tightness in his chest had eased and his heart had stopped racing. Even if he had set off an alarm, what would the police find? The museum locked up tight and everything in order. Even if they found the keys and concluded someone had been inside, nothing was missing as far as they knew. If a security camera showed a shadowy figure messing with the reliquary display, St. Oswald’s head was still in its resting place. He wondered if this was what a thief felt like when he committed the perfect crime.

  He told himself it wasn’t really a crime. The skull belonged to the cathedral at Cologne, and he would see to it that it was returned. But not until they solved the mystery.

  Chapter 9

  The knock came again, louder and more insistent. Andre sighed and closed his eyes, inhaling a deep, calming breath. This was his time for prayer and contemplation and the church was closed. Whoever was at the door would have to come back in the morning.

  He counted to ten in his head, waiting to see if the knock would come again, but it did not. Satisfied that he would not be interrupted he returned to his prayer.

  The crash shattered the momentary silence and seemed to rattle Andre’s very bones. He sprang to his feet and hurried from his study.

  The front door stood open and a veritable bear of a man stood in the doorway. Silhouetted against the moon, he was scarcely more than a shadow blotting out the light, but as he closed the door behind him, the sight of him changed from frightening to horrifying.

  Though it was evening, he wore wraparound sunglasses that did not conceal his badly scarred face. He looked like a man who almost lost a battle with leeches. What had done this to him? Some sort of plague?

  The man must have seen the horror in Andre’s eyes because his pockmarked face split into something between a sneer and a grin.

  “This is the church of Saint Victor.” The words, spoken in heavily accented French, formed a statement, not a question. His voice was a cold, low rumble from deep within his chest and sounded to Andre like boulders crashing down a hill.

  “It is.” Andre swallowed hard. “What can I do for you?” He supposed it was possible the man had no ill intentions, and was merely here to see the church. Andre was wrong to judge him by his appearance. He was a child of God, the same as any other. And yes, it was rude of the man to intrude, but entering a church during prayer time was far from the most grievous of sins.

  “Take me to the head of Lazarus.”

  “You can see all of him right here.” Andre nodded to the statue of Lazarus of Bethany. The venerated saint stood with his face turned toward heaven. In his left hand, he held a crosier. “You might be interested to know that, beneath this statue, are two stones from the saint’s sepulchre in Bethany.”

  “Don’t mess with me. I don’t want a statue. I want the real thing.”

  Andre frowned. “I do not understand.”

  “The skull!” The man seemed to blot out the light as he came closer. “I want to see the skull of Saint Lazarus.”

  “The bones of Lazarus are not here.” Andre felt the blood drain from his face and his stomach grow cold. “The saint died in Cyprus and his remains were later taken to Constantinople. Perhaps if you look...” The man snatched Andre by the neck, squelching his words in a vise grip.

  “We know the truth. The grotto, the three hares, all of it.” He pulled Andre near enough that the priest could feel his hot breath. Up close, the scarred face was even more disconcerting. He steeled his nerves, reminding himself that he was a man of God and the Spirit would protect him.

  “It is a common misunderstanding,” Andre gasped. “Many confuse Lazarus of Bethany with the bishop of Aix, Lazarus.”

  “You aren’t fooling me, and if you waste one more minute of my time, you will die a slow and painful death. I want to see the head of Lazarus. Now!” He gave Andre a shove, sending him hard onto his backside. He opened his jacket to reveal the handle of a weapon. Andre knew nothing about firearms, but the sight of it was all he needed to confirm the danger he was in.

  Andre had always considered his own mortality with a serenity grounded in his assurance of salvation. Of course, he had always imagined meeting his maker from his sick bed at an advanced age. The life of a priest was a secure one, at least physically. Now, for the first time in his life, he felt death staring him in the face. This man oozed evil.

  “I will take you there.” Andre slowly crawled to his feet. “It is not far.” His heart pounding and his bowels threatening to empty, he led the man to a door on the south side of the nave. It opened onto a staircase descending down into the ancient subterranean church beneath Saint Victor. This church, untouched after nearly two thousand years, had been built by Cassianite monks in the third century. Behind him, the man switched on a flashlight and Andre began his descent. The cold air chilled him to the bone, as did the feeling of great age and power. While many people found the fortress-like exterior of Saint Lazarus dark and intimidating, it was down underground where the true darkness lay.

  Andre did not care that this place had once been a church. Something was wrong down here. Perhaps it was that this place had the feel of a dungeon; or maybe the odd carvings, many of which should not be in a place dedicated to Christ. No matter how many times Andre came down here, he always felt vulnerable and unwelcome.

  He passed beneath the high ceiling supported by a few round pillars, the silence broken only by the footfalls of the man behind him. Each step sounded to him like the ring of a hammer nailing the lid on his coffin. He forced himself to keep moving, and soon came to the entrance to the ancient grotto that had been the original first-century church of Saint Lazarus. A tangle of carved vines wound its way around the entrance, adding to the forbidding nature of this dark recess.

  “It is in here.” Andre stepped back and motioned for the man to enter.

  “You first.” The man’s voice made it clear he would accept nothing less than total obedience.

  Andre stepped inside with only the greatest reluctance. It was as if invisible hands held him back. His fear of the crypt, however, was nothing compared to his fear of the man behind him.

  “Which one is Lazarus?” The man swept his beam across the two stone sarcophagi. Between them lay a stone rectangle where a third sarcophagus had once rested.

  “Neither.” Andre hurried on. “These were too large to move. Lazarus is here.” He hurried to the back wall, cursing himself for cowardice. Keeping the secret had been a simple thing when it was only a matter of misleading researchers, but an armed man was more than he had ever bargained for. His fingers searched the rough, shadowed surface until it found what he was searching for- the odd carving of three joined hares. Some said it was a symbol of the Trinity, but Andre knew it was an evil pagan symbol. Grimacing, he pressed his hand to the hateful symbol and pushed. The stone slowly gave way. When he heard it click, he turned it to the right once, twice, three times. It locked into place and, behind him, Andre heard a grinding sound. He turned to see the foundation stone slide back, revealing a dark hole the size and shape of a grave.

  The man shone his light down into the darkness where the beam fell on a small stone box inscribed with the same three hares symbol.

  “Open it.”

  Andre did not hesitate but clambered inside, turning his ankle in the process. Trying to ignore the burning pain, he knelt down by the ossuary. He had never actually laid eyes on it before. Taking a deep breath, he took hold of the lid and heaved.

  It was a struggle. He was not a strong man and the lid was heavy, but fear had his adrenaline pumping and he was able to wrestle it free and slide it to the side. Despite his terror, he could not help but feel a thrill at knowing what was inside. The air in the ossuary smelled of dust and age. Andre leaned closer to see what lay inside.

  The shaft of light shone on a perfectly preserved skull. He found he could not breathe, but it was not due to fear– that had been forgotten. He was gazing upon the remains of Lazarus himself, whom God incarn
ate had raised from the dead.

  “Take it out and hand it to me.” Despite having found what he sought, the man sounded angry.

  Andre reached in and gently cupped the skull in his trembling hands. Though the air down here was cool, a solitary bead of sweat rolled off his forehead, making a crater in the dust at the bottom of the ossuary. Slowly, carefully, he raised the skull to eye level and took one long look at it before handing it over to his captor.

  The man turned the skull in one hand, scowling. He shone his light back down into the ossuary.

  “There’s nothing else?”

  “No.” The fear was back. “We have only had the skull for many centuries.”

  The man moved the skull to the crook of his left arm, took the flashlight in his left hand, and drew his gun with his right. He leveled the weapon at Andre’s head.

  “What was the secret?” The bearlike voice was now a scratchy whisper. “How did he bring Lazarus back from the dead?”

  Andre gaped. Did the man not know the story?

  “By the power of God. He spoke the word and Lazarus rose from the dead.”

  A sound like a thousand thunderclaps erupted in the crypt and fire lanced through Andre’s leg. He slumped to the ground clutching his wounded thigh. He had never dreamed such pain was possible.

  “Last chance to live,” the man snarled. “What is the secret? How was he brought back?”

  “I only know what the scriptures tell us.” Andre’s voice was a whimper. “I do not know any secret.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Andre nodded. “I know nothing. Please, let me go.”

  The flashlight winked out, leaving them in absolute darkness. Pulse pounding in his ears, Andre strained to listen for any sounds, hoping to hear receding footsteps that would mean his terror and suffering were at an end. Silently he prayed, eyes squeezed shut. He heard the soft tread of footsteps and then...

  No!

  The loud scraping of stone on stone filled the room. He tried to get to his feet, but his wounded leg betrayed him and he fell down hard. Summoning all his remaining strength, he hurled everything he had into the effort, and sprang to his feet.

  Pain exploded in his head as he cracked the top of his head on hard stone, and he crumpled to the ground. Head swimming and ears ringing, he tried to push himself up, but his strength was gone. Only a moan of pain and desperation escaped his lips as the stone cover slid back into place, entombing him where the saint had once lain.

  Chapter 10

  “Let me take another look at the skull.” Maddock reached into the back seat and accepted the skull from Angel. He sat it in his lap, its face grinning up at him. The Magi, the Wise Men who visited the baby Jesus in Bethlehem. Could it be true? He had to laugh. How many times in the past few years had he wondered that very thing? Either the world was jam-packed with mysteries and secrets or he and Bones were very lucky– or unlucky, depending on how you looked at things.

  “I don’t know what to make of it.” Jade leaned over his seat to get a better look. A moment later, Angel’s face joined hers.

  “Hey chicks, we’re driving on a snowy highway. Put your seat belts back on!” Bones shook his head. “And they say I’m reckless.”

  Angel laid a hand on his shoulder. “We just trust your driving ability, that’s all.”

  Bones rolled his eyes but dropped the issue.

  “Does that light ever go out?” Angel pointed to the stone set in the front of the crown.

  “I think it’s just reflecting light from the dashboard,” Jade said.

  “I’m not so sure.” Maddock remembered his first impression when he removed the skull from its reliquary. The light seemed to come from within the stone. “I could see a glimmer of light in it from the very start.”

  “A stone that generates its own light? Maddock, that’s impossible.”

  Maddock and Bones exchanged a quick glance. They remembered a temple underneath the earth lined with stones that could absorb and amplify light. “I once saw something along those lines, though not quite the same.” He told them about what he and Bones had found in the Holy Land a few years earlier. “I have an idea. Bones, can you pull the car over and kill the lights?”

  A few minutes later they sat on a dark, deserted stretch of highway. They all huddled around the skull, blocking any ambient light, and peering intently at the opaque gem.

  “I see it!” Jade gripped Maddock’s arm. “There’s a faint sliver of light there.”

  “It’s almost shaped like a triangle,” Angel mused. “See how it’s narrower at one end?”

  “But is it generating its own light, or is it like the stones we saw before, and just using the light it absorbs?” Bones asked.

  “This isn’t like those stones.” Maddock shook his head. “Those took a little bit of light and multiplied it. This is just a sliver that seems to come from within the stone itself. Weird.”

  Just then, Jade’s cell phone rang, interrupting their quiet contemplation. She glanced at the screen and smiled.

  “It’s Otto.”

  The conversation was brief, and Otto must have done most of the talking because Jade’s contribution consisted primarily of “okay” and “uh-huh.” When she hung up, she was smiling ear-to-ear.

  “What was that all about?” Maddock asked.

  “Otto thinks he’s solved another of the clues. Paderborn Cathedral has a well-known three hares window. That by itself wouldn’t help us out much, but it also houses the remains of Saint Liborius.” She paused for effect.

  “This conversation is already feeling laborious.” Maddock grinned. “Cut the suspense.”

  “He was a bishop of the late fourth century during a time paganism was strong in this part of the world. Legend has it, when the relics of Liborius,” she emphasized the correct pronunciation, “were brought to Paderborn, a peacock led the procession.”

  “The peacock be your guide.” Maddock quoted the passage from the clue. “Well, I guess we’re headed for Paderborn.”

  The west tower of the Paderborn Cathedral rose above the ornate Romanesque-Gothic church like a sentry on the lookout for intruders. At least, that was how Maddock felt as he gazed up at the structure that stood three hundred feet. It was, to him, the cathedral’s most impressive feature, though he was also blown away by the many large arched windows that contained within them smaller, narrower arched windows topped by round, highly decorative portals. No matter how many cathedrals he visited, the architecture and craftsmanship never ceased to amaze him.

  “So, what exactly are we looking for?” Bones asked.

  “There are two key connections to the clue,” Jade said. “The three hares, and the peacock. Paderborn Cathedral has a famous three hares window. Let’s start there.”

  They circled the cathedral examining all the windows for the three hares sign. They drew a few odd glances but probably due more to Bones’ presence than their interest in the stained glass. They had searched for a half-hour before Jade decided to ask for help. They were directed to an inner courtyard where they found the three hares window and more.

  “This has got to be it!” Jade exclaimed as soon as they were alone. It was not as impressive as Maddock had expected. The three stone hares in a circle were set atop a stained glass window and in front of it stood...

  “A peacock!” Angel brushed the snow off of the dark stone fountain surmounted by an ornately carved peacock. “This must be what the clue was talking about.”

  “Could be,” Maddock said. “Bones, you keep an eye out in case somebody comes this way. The rest of us will see what we can find.”

  They scoured the courtyard, paying particular attention to the area around the stained glass window and around the peacock fountain. The window offered no promising leads, so they focused on the peacock, but no amount of poking, prodding, pushing, or twisting uncovered any hidden compartment or passageway, nor did they find any telltale three hares images like those they had found in Cologne and Hildesheim
.

  They expanded their search, checking the walls around the courtyard and scraping away snow and ice from the ground in any likely spot. Maddock scrubbed rough blocks until his gloves began to tear, but with no success.

  “I don’t think this is the right place.” He looked at Jade, who nodded. “What else did you find out about this place when you researched it last night? You know, hares and peacocks and stuff.”

  “If by ‘stuff’ you mean the Magi or the Wise Virgins, I didn’t find anything. Nothing else about the three hares either.” She screwed up her face in concentration. The expression made other people look constipated but, on her, it was cute. “There is supposed to be a lot of peacock imagery inside the cathedral.”

  “The clue talks about the peacock being the guide. A peacock supposedly guided the relics. Considering where we found the first skull, I’ll bet that’s the connection.” He’d had a feeling about the relics, but they had wanted to eliminate the obvious first, and thus had checked the area around the three hares window.

  Jade nodded. “It’s the next best possibility, if not the best. The relics are down in the crypt. Let’s check it out.”

  The Paderborner Dom featured three parallel aisles, all reaching the height of the roof. The stained glass windows that ran the length of the side walls cast the interior in a warm glow. Christmas trees hung with white lights added to the cheer. Jade took Maddock’s hand and leaned her head on his shoulder.

  “It’s nice, isn’t it?”

  He nodded. It was all too easy to get caught up in the mystery and not enjoy the moment. Bones and Angel seemed to feel the same way. Each was smiling and taking in the beauty that surrounded them. The cathedral, not one of Germany’s most famous or popular, was almost empty today, with only a handful of people wandering about.

  Angel’s face suddenly froze. She ducked behind a column and beckoned to the others.

  “The guys who attacked me are here. The dark-haired one is Ulrich; I didn’t get the other guy’s name.”