by Ken Fry
It smelt of incense.
“This is my private museum, study, and library. Around the walls stood scores of ancient, precious leather-bound volumes, with pennants and old weapons filling in the gaps between the shelves. “I am told I have an incunabulum, my Gutenberg Bible. It is very rare and almost priceless. The collection has grown over the centuries.”
Ladro raised his eyebrows amazed that she sounded so indifferent to the importance of what she had. “What are you going to show us?”
“This.” She indicated a large red silk cloth. Pulling it back, she stood to one side to reveal the time-worn tabard with its black cross.
Ladro was transfixed.
The room went silent, like a great brooding mountain.
Ladro’s head sunk to his chest. “Oh, my God!”
It was the almighty clash of battle. Centuries passed in a few heartbeats.
Like a radio, it switched off as fast as it had begun and Ladro collapsed onto one knee as Ulla looked at him with astonishment.
CHAPTER 21
Ulla looked down at his craggy face as his head rested in her lap. Ladro’s eyelids fluttered before they opened. He looked stunned.
“What happened?”
“You tell me?” She stroked his forehead. “Are you okay?”
“I think so.” He sat up and shook his head. “Where’s the Condesa?”
Her soft voice answered. “I’m here.” She was standing in a corner, but she moved and knelt beside him. She looked ecstatic.
“I saw and heard the same as you did.” Her hand pressed her lips. “It’s a miracle.”
“Well, I saw and heard nothing.” Ulla spoke.
“The only miracle is that I didn’t crash my head as I fell.” Ladro pulled himself up. “I think I just had a rush of blood to the head.”
I’m lying, it was definitely more than that.
He looked at the Condesa. An enigmatic smile betrayed her expectancy.
“Señor Ladro, what you saw and heard was real. I know that … and whatever you say, you know it too.”
Ladro looked annoyed. “I saw and heard nothing. Look, I’m feeling okay now. Can we get on with why we are here?”
Ulla gave the Condesa a long cool look. “There’s something odd here. I can sense it. What is that?” She pointed to the tabard.
“The tabard is very old. It found its way to my ancestor, the Third Duke of Alba, sometime in the sixteenth-century. These garments were worn by Knights, Crusaders, and Templars. Unlike Hollywood would have you believe, the crosses on these tunics were not always red. As you can see, this is black. What date the Duke received it is not known. Why he kept such a shoddy garment is not known. I can only guess why. What is known is that invariably, the knights, whether monastics, nobles or lay brothers, would often form an order like the Knights of Jerusalem, take vows, and live and die by them.”
“I can see where this is going,” Ulla said. “You said earlier that Cortez painted something rumoured to possess miraculous properties. The black crosses on his works are identical to that on this tabard. Are they connected in some way?”
“I believe they are. I have shown this to nobody but you two. The experience Brodie had when we first met told me that you were meant for this search.”
Ladro still didn’t believe a word of it. “I nearly passed out due to the change in humidity … that’s all. Are you suggesting that Cortez was some sort of monastic knight?”
“I don’t doubt it. Why else would he add the cross on his paintings? And I don’t doubt he wants to come to rest, to be found. I feel something remains unfinished. What I’ve experienced today tells me that you are the person who must solve this.”
Ladro had one thought ... Throgmorton. But Ulla beat him to it.
“Condesa, we’re here to locate missing paintings and that means we don’t plan on getting mixed up in some Indiana Jones adventure. What you thought you saw or heard is your experience and not mine, nor possibly Brodie’s.”
“What about the man you also have searching. What does he know of all this?” Ladro asked and winced at his deception.
“He has not seen the tabard, nor will he. You two are the only living people to have seen it. There’s no need for him to see it ... yet. He’s in Spain also and sends me regular reports. He told me he’s going to La Alberca with his researchers. That’s a small town about two-hundred plus kilometres from Madrid—a place of some mystical significance, I’ve heard.”
Baloney! The lying bastard. He’s around Toledo or Madrid waiting to see what we come up with.
“What’s his name?” Ladro continued the deception.
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Maria, I can’t see what we can do for you. You’ve given us no real information. We’ve seen a tabard that doesn’t really tell us much and you have somebody researching for you. We have our own line of enquiry and that doesn’t embrace miracles.”
She paled. “Wait.” She held up her hand and walked over to the bookshelves. Running her fingers along the volumes, she came to a halt at a very large thick book. The cover, bound in reddish brown leather and board, were worn and tatty. Four fragile thin leather tapes were tied onto the front board, securing the pages inside.
“Would you please?”
Ulla moved across, and with care, slid the hefty volume from its shelf, before placing it with a slight thud on the table. “What’s this?”
The Condesa blew the dust off from the pages and sat down.
Ladro saw she was struggling. Her eyes had fixed on him. He wouldn’t admit it, but she was right, there was a connection between them. Unlikely, but from within, he couldn’t deny it. He found himself reaching out and placing his hand on hers. He smiled.
“What’s in this book?”
“There were battles around here between Moors and Christians as the Crusaders and Templars attempted to remove the Muslim influence. Skirmishes and conflict continued for many years in this area. One bloody incident known as the Battle of Guadamur was an immense battle in which thousands died. As a tribute to the dead, the monastery was built. You will find it all in here.” She tapped the book. “It is a record of the Monasterio de Santa Maria de Guadamur from 1280 until 1361 that once stood on this site. As it was so small, it was abandoned and the few monks that were here moved to a larger abbey in Segovia and Valencia. The last entries in this volume were by Abbot Covas from Valencia who died in 1570 or thereabouts. I have never read it thoroughly. It was found with the fifth Duke’s possessions and passed on to me. Please use it for your research.”
“Thank you,” Ulla said, pressing her lips into a fine line, “but how is that going to help us? Cortez lived around Toledo not Valencia, well after the date this codex began.”
“Before I became ill, I scanned through this volume. These areas and the tabard are in some way connected. There is a monastic link.” Her voice rose. “I found a small sketch for a much larger painting in the fifth Duke’s archives, passed down from the third Duke. It was lodged amongst the last pages of the monastic records. This is it.” She opened a drawer from the table and pulled out a small package, wrapped with care in a black velvet cloth and secured by a delicate red ribbon.
Ladro glanced at Ulla. Her expression registered what he was thinking. The Condesa might be ill but she hasn’t missed a trick. Much of this has been planned.
Her skeletal fingers began unravelling the ribbon.
“Stop,” snapped Ladro, his hand pressed hard on hers.
She looked startled. “What’s wrong?”
“There’s a burning question here that neither of us can get our heads around. You tell us all this, show us important material, and are now about to show us some sort of painting. You’ve been playing and leading us along. You’ve not told any of this to your researchers. Why? There’s something not adding up here. What is it?”
For a moment, there was silence.
Ladro had an uncomfortable feeling as he watched her begin to laugh.
His face reddened and his thoughts raced for an answer. He knew what was coming. Ulla remained stone-faced.
The Condesa continued. “Indirectly, I believe I’ve been funding you. Correct?” There was a flash of anger in her eyes.
Brodie knew he was cornered and said nothing.
“You haven’t been alone on your travels from the Hotel Pedro Sanchez, Toledo Cathedral, and the Bodega.”
“They were your men, in the Cathedral?” Ulla blurted out.
“Of course, but they were following other men who I then discovered were following you.”
“Throgmorton?”
“I wondered how long it would take you to get to that.”
“But you employed him. It’s not making sense.”
“It makes a lot of sense. I used him to help locate a painting I desperately want. I gave him a wide brief. I know his estranged wife, Ruth Overberg, who told me he had many contacts and knew people who didn’t mind cutting corners. She also told me, High Court Judge or not, his dishonesty is unprecedented and inherent—part of his genetic make-up. He is capable, she said, of stealing sweets off a child, just to enjoy the thrill of getting away with it.
“If you knew all this, why did you commission him?” Ladro shook his head.
“I am so sorry now that I chose him, but I was desperate. I should have known he would be as incapable of the task as I was. He would have to find someone to locate it for him. He found you. Whatever you did that attracted him, I’ve no wish to know. I’ve had him followed as I don’t trust him. Like you, I have an instinctive dislike for the man. I am aware that he might have other reasons for helping me.”
She paused, placing her hand on her chest. Her breath moved fast and shallow. She opened the small bag she carried around her body, tipped two green pills out into her hand and swallowing them in one dry gulp.
Ulla moved over to her. “Are you okay?”
“I am. Let me finish while I can. I’m afraid we both deceived each other. However, it was necessary for us both.”
She turned to stare at Ladro. “As soon as I saw you, Brodie, I knew. Don’t deny it. You’ve had two experiences in the space of an hour. I saw you, and believe me … I know. If that’s not a heavenly sign, I don’t know what can be. It convinced me that you are the right person.”
He gazed at her and her smile was disarming, as was the sweet softness of her voice. She squeezed his arm.
Am I going soft? This fearsome woman has got to me. I want her to get well. I don’t want her to die. She’s a one off. I can’t lie to her or myself. I did see and hear things.
“If there’s any truth in this legend, that, Broderick Ladro, will be reward enough.”
A surge of hope passed through him. For a moment, he became light headed. He felt released.
“Ulla, I’m carrying on with this. How about you?”
“I want to, money or not. What are we going to do about Throgmorton?”
“He’s both our concern. I shall terminate my contract with him today. If you agree, I will provide you with anything you wish, and that includes money.” Maria extended both her hands towards them. “I trust you both.”
They embraced her.
Money wasn’t an issue. Ladro knew that and so did Ulla. “Throgmorton,” he said, “can now go forth and multiply.”
CHAPTER 22
Staring through his binoculars, Throgmorton thought her home looked like part palace, part church. He hadn’t known where her other home was. Now, he did. The surveillance device concealed on Ladro’s vehicle had done its job.
He cursed.
Underestimating a person had never been his weak point. This time, he’d lost. He should have realised trained researchers were single-minded predators. There wasn’t much that was beyond them. Now, they were with the Condesa and that spelt trouble. Apart from her money, whatever happened to her was fast becoming irrelevant. It was the information Ladro and Stuart could glean that held the key to his operation. He had to let them continue. Raúl Cortez’s input could be vital to the success of his scheme.
It didn’t take him much to realise that the Condesa could dispense with him altogether. But she was vulnerable. Being vulnerable, she could still be manipulated. Her illness wasn’t going to go away.
He chewed on his finger. He knew where he would find help.
A short smile.
Stefan de Witt should still be in prison, the one he had sent him to four years back.
§
The drive back to the hotel passed in silence. Ulla balanced her options. She wasn’t happy about any of it. It had all become messy. “What are we going to do about Raúl?”
“We can’t say a word. That would bring the mission to a close. We need to examine his records in conjunction with the codex. If there is any information to be had, it must be in those volumes. We also need to look more closely at the two Cortez paintings. If those pointing figures aren’t geographical clues of some sort, I’d be surprised.”
She caught the burning expression in his eyes. For once, she didn’t share it. In the back of her mind, she still remembered his desire to quit. If he does, their relationship could slip. A gap had begun opening between them.
There was still time to recover it.
§
Back in the hotel, Ladro called the Bodega. Evita answered.
“Evita, we’ll be coming in tomorrow. Could you get out all the records, papers and anything else relating to Cortez, and also the two paintings you have? Let your father know.” He told her what had happened at the Condesa’s, but not the strange occurrences.
“Señor Ladro, it is good you are coming. I’ve found something you and Ulla will be pleased to see. I will show you when you arrive.”
“I look forward to that.” He said goodbye and put the phone down.
“Why,” said Ulla, “do you want her father to know. Wouldn’t it be better if he didn’t know?”
“The more he knows, the more Throgmorton will trust him. This way, we can also feed in some dodgy data.”
“Okay, but what about the Condesa?”
“She’s telling him he’s off the case. But we both know he won’t let that stop him. You heard his ideas. If there’s the remotest shred of truth in this, he’s up to coining a fortune. If we let him, he’ll milk it for all its worth. Sick people, like the Condesa, will pay a fortune if they believe there’s a scrap of truth in it. I loathe him.”
“Where does that leave us?”
“We’re ending our business with him but that doesn’t mean we’re finished with the search. It goes on. If there’s anything to be found, Maria will get it.”
Ulla noticed the first name term. “She really got to you, didn’t she?”
“She did. It’s about time I did something decent ....”
The sharp tones of the hotel phone cut through the conversation. Ulla picked up. It was the Condesa. Her voice had an urgent edge.
“I had a long conversation with Throgmorton. He knows he’s off the project and he also knows of your situation. He told me he is within a whisker of locating what I’m looking for. I asked where he was, but he refused to say.”
“Him finding it is total rubbish.”
“I told him that. I also said any attempt to continue would be publicly rebuked and would ensure that all my social contacts would learn of his sinister past. It was then he said I’d be sorry, and that when he found the painting, I wouldn’t get to see it. Any attempts to blacken his name and he would kill me.”
“Oh God. Have you reported this to the police?”
“No. We have our own way of dealing with these sorts of things
around here. I have a recording of the phone call.” She paused for breath. “Forgive me, Ulla, I’m feeling unwell right now.”
“Condesa, please rest. We’ll be in constant touch and don’t worry about Throgmorton. There’s little he would dare do.”
§
A light morning breeze rippled through vine leaves as Brodie drove the rented car towards the reception area of the Bodega.
“I wonder if Cortez will still be paid by Throgmorton?” asked Ulla.
He brought the car to a stop. “Maybe, but I doubt it. No Condesa, no money. Look, there’s Evita.”
Dressed in a red two-piece suit, she walked over and welcomed them before ushering them inside past the main office area. “Señor Ladro, Ulla, our previous discussion remains private, yes?”
“Of course.”
“Thank you. My father must not know, that is imperative. I have prepared everything you asked. I also made my own small search. As I told you, what I found could be of interest to you. Buried amongst the early stock and harvest records of the early vineyard, was this portfolio.” She produced a large, faded yellow packet tied loosely in black cotton material and handed it to Ulla. “I have not told him about this.”
“What is it?” Ladro took the packet from Ulla.
“There are drawings, sketches of this area and people. I don’t know who made them, there are no signatures. They look very old, though. Francisco perhaps?”
“Wonderful, Evita.” Ladro wanted to hug her but drew back. “We’ll open them up when we’ve gone through an order of preference. The first is this codex we received from the Condesa. You can tell your father that we’ll let you know if we have more news.” He gave Ulla a knowing look.
For a few moments, they stared at the ragged leather cover. Ulla, wearing white cotton gloves, opened the medieval volume and with care, began turning the ancient pages. The early pages were in a Latin script complete with illuminated lettering. Looking like a musical score, they formed a series of thick colours. The second part of the book was older, written in early Spanish, containing land and building diagrams related to the House of Alba.
