The Templar Agenda

by John Paul Davis

  ‘Two world wars?’

  The Camerlengo’s response was animated. ‘My dear, please try to understand.’

  ‘Understand? I nearly got killed. Twice.’

  Tepilo pointed a finger, then at Velis. ‘That should never have happened,’ he said loudly. ‘That was his men being incapable of following orders.’

  Velis remained silent. His cigar glowed in the darkness, lighting up his face briefly.

  ‘And my father?’ she asked, tears once again falling down her face. ‘Was that his men? How about the others?’

  Tepilo placed his hand to her head. ‘Gabrielle, listen to me, every society needs its rule of the wise. Empires rise, empires fall. History repeats itself. How long will it be before these lessons are heeded? Even Saint Thomas More wrote of the Utopia society. The great Thomas Aquinas spoke of those who knew not of God but still had great virtue. The Crusades may be over but wars continue. But for the first time we are starting to achieve real stability.’

  ‘Six billion people live on this earth. There are only eight seats at this table.’

  ‘Gabrielle, few people are destined to lead. The advancement of civilisation depends always on the gifted minority. It took only one genius to invent a light bulb. It took only one man to have us excommunicated. It took one Pope to start the Crusades. One man to die for our sins. A cabinet of a handful leads nations of millions. That is the way. Even before democracy the rule was of the minority.’

  ‘It only took the murder of one archduke to start a world war.’

  ‘Gabrielle, please understand, the original goal was to protect pilgrims and this has never changed. In the early 1300s the Poor Knights were collectively richer than every nation in Europe, better trained and led by the morally superior. Yet despite this they still chose honour and the protection of others ahead of greed. Nothing here has changed. What began as a pointless waste of life for a corrupt and inefficient government has led to so much more. That is the real protection of pilgrims. What we are doing now can ensure stability for the entire planet.’

  Gabrielle exhaled deeply. ‘You know I heard rumours about the New World Order: the pyramid of knowledge: those who ruled at the top and everyone else at the bottom. I never realised it was true. See, I thought we lived in a democracy. You spoke of it yourself not one week ago. You are such a fucking hypocrite.’

  The force of her words rattled him.

  ‘Gabrielle, we have no say over voting patterns, we merely assist the elected.’

  ‘You mean you pull the strings.’

  ‘Gabrielle, throughout history the pattern has always been the same. Monarchs and nobility continuously leech off the poor for personal gain: the rich become richer and the poor become poorer. Whether it is the rule of monarchy or democracy the outcome is always the same. Incompetent tyrants like Philip le Bel took authority because they really believed God willed it and even my predecessors approved: being a cardinal or Pope was not about love of others: it was about love of themselves. For hundreds of years the kings of Europe claimed they ruled by divine right, yet they were not necessarily the strongest, nor were they wise. Democracy without supervision of a senior council has the same problem.’

  Gabrielle exhaled deeply. Her head was spinning.

  ‘My darling, please understand, this has already begun to change. The world needed them; the world needs us still. For the first time we have a system that is not only rational but also sustainable.’

  Gabrielle shook her head. For the first time her breathing slowed to its normal rate.

  ‘You tried to kill me – twice.’

  ‘That was never intended.’

  Gabrielle wiped her eyes. As she did she made eye contact with Velis. His gaze remained unbroken, almost mesmerizing.

  As she looked away, her attention turned to the altar. ‘So what did Zichmni have to do with this?’

  Tepilo smiled softly. ‘The manuscript you found had been lost for quite some time,’ the cardinal said rising to his feet. He walked slowly towards the altar. ‘The Knights Templar did not carry the fabled treasures that legend suggests. Yet for our existence to continue we needed complete privacy. Had the endeavours of Prince Sinclair, our own ancestor, been known then the fate of our order would be available for all to see.’

  Gabrielle looked at the altar. The winged goat she had seen many times before stood directly before her. The relic seemed to glow slightly in the darkness as it reflected the light of the candles.

  She looked at it nervously. ‘What exactly is it?’

  ‘According to ancient legend the Temple of wise King Solomon was created by this angel, Asmodeus. Even today it is respected in Freemasonry. This particular statue was found in 1124AD. It is the only known evidence that the first Temple ever existed.’

  Gabrielle monitored the object. She was particularly drawn to its eyes. Its appearance seemed demonic.

  ‘The origins of our order are known only to a select few,’ he said, a hint of pride in his voice, as though he was answering long unanswered questions with accuracy. ‘When Moses led the Israelites out of Egypt, God entrusted unto him the secrets of man. The truth is that there is no religion but religion of nature itself, as preserved in the initiation rites of ancient Greece and Egypt. Moses himself initiated the chiefs of Israel and the Levites into these mysteries, and they later formed the basis for the Temple of Solomon. Yet even by the birth of Christ, God’s own son, the Levites had separated from this knowledge, leading to Christ’s own sacrifice to return to eternal life. That, my child, is the true sacred mystery.’

  Gabrielle looked at her uncle with wide eyes.

  ‘You see, what Louis says is correct. There is only one God. He has many names. Jehovah. Ra. Osiris. In the earliest days of our existence, our ancestors discovered within the ancient temple a manuscript of true ancient wisdom, wisdom once passed down by God to Moses, and taught once more by Jesus Christ,’ he said pointing to a large manuscript on the altar, made mainly from papyrus. ‘The Templars called it Baphomet, meaning baptism of knowledge. Moses knew this, Our Lord taught it and died for it, but humanity since that time has taught to forget it. When the Templars uncovered this knowledge they became merely the inheritors. That, my dear, is why we were excommunicated.’

  Gabrielle looked at him, her eyes ever widening.

  ‘That doesn’t make sense.’

  Tepilo smiled warmly. ‘What you must understand is that Moses himself was Egyptian, the adopted son of a Pharaoh’s daughter the Book of Exodus proclaims. Years later, wise King Solomon himself learned the mysteries and made his temple a relic in homage to the one true God. And take a look at this,’ he said, pointing to a wooden staff standing next to it. ‘Once the property of Moses’ brother, Aaron, so we understand.’

  For the first time she smiled. A strange feeling overcame her, overpowering in nature: almost as though an electric charge had passed through her body.

  She looked across the altar at the mummified head, situated less than three feet from the Asmodeus statue. On closer inspection she realised there were two thighbones on the altar.

  ‘The Jolly Roger.’

  ‘Close,’ he replied. ‘When Jacques de Molay was executed all that was found of him was his head and two thighbones. Today the Knights Templar uses it as a logo of the Rite of Larmenius. A reminder: no man is immortal.’

  Tepilo smiled.

  ‘What Louis says is quite true. In the days of the Middle Ages a heretic was a concoction of man’s ignorance. Philip le Bel was a Christian extremist. His goal was to be celebrated as the most pious man in Christendom, following in the footsteps of his ancestor, Louis IX. See, the Templars had moved on. Our goal was integration. We had fought with Muslims, Jews, Cathars. Why? They too wasted their lives in the name of false promises. Jacques de Molay knew this. It was our dream that the sons of Abraham would unite. Christians, Jews, Muslims, everyone living in peace in the New Jerusalem. They read books written by the ancient inheritors of this knowledge. This was
not black magic. Only they claimed it was possible to control one’s own destiny using one’s own will. They accepted other religions as our friends. This was not Devil worship.’

  Gabrielle shook her head. ‘Times have changed. The Vatican has changed. Cardinal del Rosi serves to encourage understanding. Why do you knock your own religion?’

  Tepilo shook his head. ‘Every major religion still acts as a barrier against integration. Every religion prohibits their members from joining us. To them we are heretics. The old religions are obsolete: the moral fabric of Christianity is at breaking point. Church attendance in Europe is at an all-time low, less and less people take up the call of the priesthood and Rome has become isolated: lost in time: a cathedral to the past. Yet despite this, there are still over one billion Catholics worldwide and over one billion other Christians who remain conscripted to their Church. They quite willingly enter the Church in youth yet forsake it every day of their lives for their destructive vices without giving it a single thought. Yet as soon as someone dies or they chose to marry they all turn into amateur monks before forgetting about their newly found faith till the next time. Then as soon as their children are born they insist on a Christian baptism to ensure their place in heaven.

  ‘My darling, nothing opposes social change like religious fundamentalism. If it were not for the old religions the Crusades would never have happened; the twin towers in New York would still be standing; we would finally have a united Northern Ireland. We would ensure pacification between the Middle East and the West.

  ‘Gabrielle, don’t you see, without religious difference there would be no hatred. That was why the empires of ancient Greece, Rome and Egypt thrived for so long. My darling, we can reignite the flame. Just imagine a Pope taking this vision forward. This is the discovery that will unite the world.’

  Suddenly Gabrielle felt cold. ‘A Pope taking this vision forward?’

  Tepilo exhaled deeply.

  ‘That’s why you killed Cardinal Faukes. Not only was he on the oversight commission but he was the only cardinal more likely to become the next Pope than you.’

  ‘Gabrielle, it is our dream that the sons of Abraham will unite. His Holiness has less than a year to live. His present state of mind is dangerous. For integration to occur each religion must pull down the walls which keep them apart. Only then can the world truly unite, can every religion be united.’

  ‘That’s why you were excommunicated. You really were heretics. You can’t seriously be considering this…’

  ‘Gabrielle, we encourage our members to worship Christ, but for integration and stability to be achieved the religions of the world must unite. Gabrielle, throughout history religion has seen the genocide of innocents.’

  ‘Don’t give me all that virtuous shit,’ she blasted. ‘Your New World Order has decreed the genocide of innocents. Is that why you killed Snow, Von Sonnerberg, Cardinal Faukes, Randy Lewis, Jermaine Llewellyn…’ she asked, counting each off on her fingers. ‘You talk about religion as if it were some kind of disease. You forget to mention all the good it does: charity, morals, and faith. To you, humans are just pawns in your capitalist cesspit. Religion doesn’t incite violence. People like you incite violence,’ she said shouting.

  ‘You know I finally get it now. This has nothing to do with what’s best for the world. This isn’t even about revenge. If you succeed everyone will have to live under your tyrannical theocracy, and you’ll be the one on the throne. You really believe that if you control religion you control the people. You’re just like the pharaohs. You actually believe you’re God.’

  ‘Gabrielle.’

  Cardinal Tepilo’s voice broke off as the sound of footsteps emanated from the floor above. They were heavy footsteps: mostly male and instantly recognisable as the beginning of an armed raid.

  ‘Quickly,’ Velis said rising to his feet. ‘Down the passage.’

  ‘Hey,’ Gabrielle said as Velis grabbed her arm and pushed her.

  ‘Louis, don’t hurt her.’

  Outside the mansion, two skilled officers successfully picked the lock of the ancient front door, forcing it open. After whispering commands to his squad, Pieterson followed two armed officers into the building and quietly started searching rooms. Eight more followed, lined up in four rows of two. Each officer was masked, armed and intensively drilled and said little as they scattered throughout the mansion.

  Within thirty seconds the ground floor had been searched and ninety seconds later so had the first, second and third. Every room was spotless and impeccably furnished in the character of Newport ostentation, but there were no signs of the owner or any guests. Every electrical item was unplugged or turned off at the socket and all of the important doors were locked. An empty dishwasher gave the impression that the house had been unoccupied for several days or longer whereas the fully packed refrigerator confirmed that the house had recently been in use. Water ran from both taps, which also indicated recent activity, while outside three cars were parked in close proximity to the garage to the side of the mansion.

  Pieterson surveyed the hallway. He commanded two officers to remain by the front doors, two to remain upstairs and another two to check the basement, wherever that was. He ordered intense surveillance of the garage to make sure that no one escaped by car, followed by an extensive search of the garden.

  Mike, Mark and Alessandro remained seated in the car. Officially they were not involved, nor could they be. From the end of the driveway they had a brief view into the vastness of the front garden and even from there Mark decided that the house was empty. Despite the well planned operation being achieved with impeccable precision, Mark guessed Velis would not be fooled, and had already planned his hurried departure.

  In the distance Mike heard what he thought was shouting, yet not in keeping with the subdued commands of Pieterson. He looked at Mark.

  ‘You hear that?’

  Mark nodded.

  Moments later, over eight hundred yards away on the other side of the mansion, the two Vatican policemen and the Swiss Guard moved like marines behind the house towards mazelike vegetation. They sprinted along a winding stone pathway intersecting an immaculately kept lawn, patterned by flowers, some forming the shape of a medieval knight, and followed winding stone steps into a nicely presented courtyard lined by hedges. Sticking to the path, they avoided countless statues depicting figures from antiquity and various extravagant water features, and headed toward the cliffs that overlooked the choppy waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

  Approximately half a mile from the house, the pathway changed to gravel and was lined by well-maintained hedging on either side, connected by carefully topiary-created archways at regular intervals, leading to a walled pond. Encircling the pond, they continued through walled sections of garden then across the grass in the direction of the cliffs, initially heading downhill then up. The sound of waves crashing against rocks below was becoming louder as they reached the coast. In the distance they could hear the humming of a helicopter approaching from the southwest.

  Standing within ten metres of the cliff, Louis Velis aimed a revolver randomly at the sky while struggling to keep Gabrielle still with his left hand. He shouted at Cardinal Tepilo in the fashion of a tyrant and even threatened his co-Templar as he refused to take the gun. Tepilo spoke to Gabrielle who gazed back fiercely. Although she shouted at her great-uncle incessantly, the sound remained inaudible as it failed to pass Velis’s smothering hand.

  Things were not going well. Velis cursed Tepilo for his lenience, then his niece for her petulance. Then he cursed Gullet for the delay. With each passing second the Feds were getting nearer.

  Yet the echoing in his ears was reassuring. Ludovic Gullet had received the orders and was flying in across the western sky.

  In the distance, Gullet could see them on the cliff side. He was less than half a mile away.

  Pieterson did not need telling twice. Seconds later he was sprinting towards the garden and shouting orders in all directio
ns. Lined up in ranks of two the squad followed: anonymity giving way to haste and their footfalls reverberating loudly as they sprinted in military formation along the gravelled path.

  The deputy director carried an arrest warrant for Velis in an inside pocket. In other offices similar ones existed for Gullet, Parker, de Bois, Broadie, D’Amato and several other masters of the Rite of Larmenius for various offences but they had failed to find any evidence to identify any other Templars. They were still unaware of the activities of the Rite of Larmenius as a whole and while they had nothing against the other individuals personally, every man was susceptible to questioning because of past dealings with Velis.

  For now, the deputy director was unable to clarify the identity of the man with Velis. Nevertheless, he was an accessory for kidnapping and assisting Velis evade arrest. That too meant jail time.

  Pieterson barked loudly at his officers as he set them out in an arc shaped perimeter across Velis: each man separated by an average of ten yards. The squad encroached slowly. Every officer was armed, their firearms aimed at the Starvel CEO. The deputy director shouted at Velis but the sound was inaudible due to the deafening sound of the helicopter loitering overhead. Clearly Velis was stalling for time.

  Velis looked at the uniformed men, then at Pieterson, then finally at Mike some fifteen yards behind. Mike stood with his arms folded: a look of hatred in his eyes yet at the same time deep concern for Gabrielle. Gabrielle looked at Mike with frightened eyes.

  Realising his chance, Velis smiled. He fired the revolver into the air and then pointed it at Gabrielle’s mouth. He whispered something in her ear and her expression suggested she was frightened.

  Mike’s reaction was instantaneous. He removed a SIG P75 from inside his jacket and ran in to join the perimeter. Pieterson barked at Mike but the Swiss Guard failed to respond. With his firearm aimed firmly at Velis he bit his lip and concentrated on making focus. His heart thundered like a freight train. It reminded him of that day at the Vatican.