The Last Templar ts-1

by Raymond Khoury

  Reilly took over again. "We need to understand what he's after, or what he thinks he's after. Tess, you were the first to see the link between Vance and the Templars, and, if you can take us through what you know so far, maybe we can figure out what his next move's likely to be."

  "Where do you want me to start?"

  Reilly shrugged. "The beginning?"

  "It's a long story."

  "Well, keep us up at ten thousand feet. Anything looks interesting, we'll go into it in more detail."

  She briefly marshaled her thoughts before she began.

  * * *

  She told them about the Templars' origins, about the nine knights showing up in Jerusalem; about their nine years in seclusion at the Temple, the theories about them digging something up in that time; about their subsequent, somewhat inexplicable rapid rise to power; about their victories in battle, and their ultimate defeat at Acre. She walked them through the Templars' return to Europe, their power and their arrogance, and how it grated on the king of France and on his submissive pope, and about their ultimate downfall.

  "With the support of his lackey, Pope Clement V, the king starts a wave of persecutions, rounds up the Templars, accuses them of heresy. Within a few years, they're wiped out. Mostly meeting extremely painful deaths."

  Aparo looked confused. "Hold on, heresy? How could they justify it? I thought these guys were the defenders of the Cross, the pope's chosen ones."

  "These were extremely religious times we're talking about," Tess continued. "The devil was very much alive in people's minds at the time." She paused and glanced around the table. The silence egged her on. "Claims were made that when knights were received into the order, they did so by spitting and even urinating on the Cross, and by denying Jesus Christ. And that wasn't all they were accused of. There were also claims that they worshipped a strange demon called Baphomet and that they engaged in sodomy. Basically, the usual claims of occult worship the Vatican wheeled out whenever it wanted to get rid of any competition in the religious sweepstakes."

  She flicked a glance at De Angelis. He kept his expression benignly interested, but said nothing.

  "During the course of these final years," Tess continued, "they confessed to a lot of these accusations, but their confessions hold as much water as those made during the Spanish Inquisition.

  The threat of having a red-hot spike inserted into you is enough to make anyone admit to anything.

  Especially when all around you, the threat is being carried out on your friends."

  De Angelis took off his glasses and wiped them on the sleeve of his jacket, then replaced them and nodded somberly at Tess. It was very clear where her sympathies lay.

  Tess flipped the papers back into the folder. "Hundreds of Knights Templar all across France were rounded up and put through this charade. When there was no retaliation, dozens of bishops and abbots jumped on the bandwagon, and pretty soon the Knights Templar were on the run. Only here's the thing: their wealth seems to have disappeared with them. She told them about the stories of caskets of gold and jewels being hidden in caves or in lakes all across Europe, and about the Templars' ships fleeing from the port of La Rochelle the night before that fateful Friday the thirteenth.

  "Is that what this is all about?" Jansson held up his copy of the coded manuscript. "A lost treasure?"

  "Nice to see some good old-fashioned greed making a comeback," Aparo snorted. "Makes a change from the misguided wackos we're usually hunting down."

  De Angelis leaned forward, clearing his throat and glancing at Jansson. "Their treasure was never recovered, that much is generally accepted."

  Jansson tapped his fingers on the papers. "So this manuscript could be some kind of treasure map that Vance is now able to read."

  "That doesn't make sense," Tess interjected, suddenly feeling out of place as the faces around the table turned to face her. She turned to Reilly before continuing, propped up by what she read as a supportive look. "If Vance was after money, there was a lot more he could have taken from the Met."

  "True," Aparo answered, "but the stuff on show would be virtually impossible to sell. And from what you've told us, the treasure of the Templars has got to be worth a lot more than what was on show, plus it can be sold freely without fear of prosecution since it won't have been stolen, just found."

  The agents were nodding in agreement, but De Angelis noted that Tess looked doubtful, although she appeared to be wary of expressing her thoughts. "You don't appear to be too convinced, Miss Chaykin."

  She grimaced with unease. "It's clear Vance wanted the encoder to be able to read the manuscript he found."

  "The key to the treasure's location," Jansson confirmed, half questioning.

  "Probably," she said, turning to him. "But it depends on how you define treasure."

  "What else could it be?" De Angelis was hoping to see if she had gained any intimation from Vance.

  She shook her head. "I'm not sure."

  That was good, if she was telling the truth, De Angelis thought.

  He hoped she was.

  But then she dashed that hope and continued. "Vance seemed to be after something else than just money. It's like he's possessed, he's a man on a mission." She walked them through the more esoteric theories of the Templar treasure, including the notion of their being part of some cabal guarding Jesus's bloodline. She glanced at De Angelis as she was saying it. He was staring at her blankly, giving nothing away.

  Once she'd finished, he waded in. "Putting all the entertaining conjecture aside," he said, as he flashed her a slightly condescending smile, "you're saying he's a man who's out for revenge, a man on a personal crusade of sorts."

  "Yes."

  "Well," De Angelis continued with the calm, soothing manner of a worldly college professor, "money, especially a lot of it, can be a phenomenal tool. Crusades, whether in the twelfth century or today, cost a lot of money, don't they?" He looked around the table.

  Tess didn't answer.

  The question hung briefly until Reilly stepped in. "What I don't get is this. We know Vance blames the priest and, by inference, the Church for his wife's death."

  "His wife and daughter," Tess corrected him.

  "Right. And now he's got hold of this manuscript that he says was, I don't know, scary enough to turn a priest's hair white within minutes of being told about it. And we all seem to agree that this manuscript, which is written in code, is a Templar document, right?"

  "What's your point?" Jansson interjected.

  "I thought the Templars and the Church were on the same side. I mean, the way I understand it, these guys were the defenders of the Church. They fought bloody wars in the name of the Vatican for over two hundred years. I can imagine their descendants being ticked off at the Church for what happened to them, but the theories you're talking about," he said as he looked at Tess, "are about something they supposedly discovered two hundred years before they were persecuted. Why would they have anything in their possession, from day one, that would worry the Church?"

  "It could help explain why they were burned at the stake," Amelia Gaines offered.

  "Two hundred years later? And there's another thing," Reilly continued, turning to Tess now.

  "These guys went from defending the Cross to desecrating it. Why would they do that? Their initiation ceremonies just don't make sense."

  "Well, that's what they were accused of," Tess said. "Doesn't mean they actually did these things. It was a standard accusation at the time. The king used the very same charges a few years earlier to get rid of an earlier pope, Boniface VIII."

  "Okay, but it still doesn't make sense," Reilly went on. "Why would they spend all that time fighting for the Church if they were hiding some secret that the Vatican didn't want exposed?"

  De Angelis finally rejoined the discussion in his usual dulcet tone. "If I may ... I think that if you're going to entertain such flights of fancy, you might as well consider another possibility that hasn't yet been discussed."r />
  The gathered group turned to face him. He paused, letting the anticipation build before proceeding calmly.

  "The whole conjecture about our Lord's bloodline comes up every few years and never fails to generate interest, whether it's in the realm of fiction or in the halls of academia. The Holy Grail, the San Graal, or the Sang Real, call it what you will. But, as Miss Chaykin has very articulately explained," he pointed out, nodding graciously at her, "a lot of what happened to the Templars can simply be explained by that most basic of human traits, namely," turning now to glance at Aparo, "greed. Not only had they gotten too powerful, but without the defense of the Holy Land to keep them occupied, they were now back in Europe—mostly in France—and they were armed, they were powerful, and they were very, very wealthy. The king of France felt threatened and rightfully so.

  Being virtually bankrupt and heavily indebted to them, he desperately coveted their wealth. He was a loathsome man by any account; I would be inclined to agree with Miss Chaykin on the whole affair of their arrest. I wouldn't read too much into their accusations. They were undoubtedly innocent, true believers, and Soldiers of Christ to the death. But the accusations gave the king the excuse to get rid of them, and, by doing so, he killed two birds with one stone. He got rid of his rivals and got hold of their treasure. Or at least tried to, given that it was never found."

  "This is physical treasure we're talking about now, not some kind of esoteric 'knowledge'?" Jansson asked.

  "Well, I like to think so, but then I've never been blessed with a great sense of fantasy, although I do understand the appeal of all the colorful, alternative conspiracy theories. But the physical and the esoteric could be related in another way. You see, a lot of the interest in the Templars stems from the fact that no one can unequivocally explain how they got to be so rich and so powerful in such a short time. I believe it's simply the result of the abundance of donations they received once their mission was widely publicized. But then, who knows? Perhaps they did find some buried secret that made them incredibly wealthy in record time. But what was it? Was it related to the mythical descendants of Christ, proof that our Lord fathered a child or two a thousand years earlier . . ."he scoffed lightly, "or was it something much less controversial, but potentially far more lucrative?"

  He waited, making sure they were all still following his line of thought.

  "I'm talking about the secrets of alchemy, about the formula to turn ordinary metals," he calmly announced, "into gold."

  Chapter 43

  The faces around the table were frozen in silence as De Angelis took them through a brief history of the arcane science.

  The historical evidence supported his proposition. Alchemy was indeed introduced into Europe during the Crusades. The earliest alchemical works originated in the Middle East and were written in Arabic long before they were translated into Latin.

  "The alchemists' experiments were based on Aristorie's theory of earth, air, fire, and water. They believed that everything was made up from a combination of these elements. They also believed that with the right dosage and method, these elements could each be transmuted into any of the others. Water could easily be turned into air by being boiled, and so on. And since everything on the planet was believed to be made up of a combination of earth, water, air, and fire, in theory at least, it was thought possible to transmute any starting material into anything one desired to create. And topping die list of desirables was, of course, gold."

  The monsignor explained how alchemy also functioned on a physiological level. Aristotle's four elements also manifested themselves in the four humors: phlegm, blood, bile, and black bile. In a healthy human, the humors were believed to be in balance. Illness was thought to arise from a

  deficiency or an excess of one of the humors. Alchemy evolved beyond the search for a recipe that would turn lead into gold. It promised to uncover the secrets to physiological transformations, from sickness to health, or from old age to youth. Furthermore, many alchemists also used the search for this formula as a metaphor for seeking moral perfection, believing that what could be accomplished in nature could also be realized in the heart and mind. In its spiritual guise, the Philosopher's Stone they sought was believed to be capable of causing a spiritual conversion as well as a physical one.

  Alchemy promised everything to whoever unlocked its secrets: wealth, longevity, even immortality.

  In the twelfth century, however, alchemy was also mysterious and frightening to those who had never experienced it. Alchemists used strange instruments and mystical incantations; they employed cryptic symbolism and suggestive colors in their art. Aristotle's works were eventually banned. At the time, any science, as it was then called, was thought to be a challenge to the authority of the Church; a science that promised spiritual purification was a direct threat to the Church. "Which,"

  De Angelis continued, "could be another explanation for the Vatican allowing the Templars' persecution to proceed unchallenged.

  "The timing, the location, the origin of it all, everything fits." The monsignor glanced around the table. "Now don't get me wrong." He flashed a comforting smile. "I'm not saying such a formula exists, although to me it's certainly no more of a stretch of the imagination than the other fanciful theories of the Templars' great secret that have been discussed around this table and elsewhere.

  What I'm simply saying is that a man who has lost touch with reality could easily believe that such a formula exists."

  Tess looked briefly at Reilly and hesitated before turning to face De Angelis. "Why would Vance want to make gold?"

  "You forget, the man is not thinking with the clearest of minds. You said so yourself, Miss Chaykin.

  One need only look at what happened at the Met to realize that. That was not a plan drawn up by a sane man. So once you keep in mind that the man isn't behaving rationally, anything's possible. It could be a means to an end. Financing to allow him to achieve whatever demented objective he's set himself." He shrugged. "This man, Vance . . . he's clearly delusional, and he's caught in the grip of some nonsensical treasure hunt. It seems to me like you have a madman on your hands, and whatever it is he's after, sooner or later, he's going to realize that he's been chasing a ghost, and I dread to think of how he's going to react when that realization hits."

  A disconcerting quiet descended on the table as the assembled few mulled over that sobering thought.

  Jansson leaned forward. "Whatever he thinks he's after, he doesn't seem to mind how many dead bodies it takes for him to get there, and we need to stop him. But it seems to me like the only thing we have to work with right now are these damn papers." He was holding up the copy of the manuscript. "If we could read it, it might tell us what his next move is." He turned to Reilly.

  "What's the NSA saying?"

  "It's not looking good. I spoke to Terry Kendricks before coming in, and he's not optimistic."

  "Why not?"

  "They know it's a basic polyalphabetic substitution cipher. Nothing too sophisticated. The military used it for decades, but code breaking is all about frequency of occurrence, about patterns; you spot repeated words, deduce what they are, and that gives you something to work off until you ultimately manage to figure out the mnemonic key and work your way back from there. In this case, they simply don't have enough material to work with. If the document were longer, or if they had other documents written in the same code, they'd be able to deduce the key pretty easily. But six pages is just too little to go on."

  Jansson's face bent inward. "I don't believe this. Several billion dollars of funding and they still can't crack something a bunch of monks came up with seven hundred years ago?" He shrugged, breathing out through pursed lips for a long moment. "All right. Then we forget about the damn manuscript and concentrate elsewhere. We need to go over everything we have and find a new tack."

  ***

  De Angelis was watching Tess. She said nothing. She glanced over at him, and something in her eyes told De Angelis that h
e hadn't convinced her, and that she sensed this was about something more than just funding a personal vendetta.

  Tes indeed, De Angelis mused. This woman is decidedly dangerous. But for the time being, her potential usefulness outweighed the danger she posed.

  For just how long, Uiough, remained to be seen.

  Chapter 44

  "What station is that?"

  Tess had agreed to an offer of a lift from Reilly, and sitting in the car with him now, listening to the uplifting music, the setting sun peeping out from behind a cluster of graphite clouds and painting the horizon a dark pink, she was glad she accepted his offer.

  She felt relaxed and safe. More than that, she was finding that she liked being around him. There was something about his toughness, his incisive determination, his . . . honesty. It was plain to see.

  She knew she could trust him, which was more than could be said for most men she'd come across, her ex-husband a particularly stellar example of that subhuman breed. With her house empty now that Kim and her mom had flown to Arizona, she was looking forward to a warm bath and a glass of red wine; a pill would also be drafted in to guarantee a good night's sleep.

  "It's a CD. The last track was from Willie and Lobo's Caliente. This one's Pat Metheny. It's one of my comps." He shook his head slightly. "Now there's something a guy should never confess to."

  "Why not?"

  He grinned. "You kidding me? Burning compilation CDs? Come on. A sure sign of way too much free time."

  "Oh, I don't know about that. It could also be the sign of someone who's quite particular and knows exactly what he likes."

  He nodded. "I like that interpretation."

  "I had a feeling you would." She smiled and looked ahead for a moment, soaking in the subtle combination of the electric guitar and the complex orchestrations that were the group's trademark.

  "It's good."

  "Yeah?"

  "Really soothing and . . . inspirational. Plus we're ten minutes into it and my ears haven't gone numb, which is a nice change from the carnage Kim normally subjects them to."