by C. M. Palov
‘I sincerely hope so,’ she quietly remarked. Reaching behind her head, she removed the ornately incised stiletto from her rolled chignon, damp locks tumbling past her shoulders.
She spared a quick glance at the silver emblem of the sacred Irminsul, the ancient Saxon tree of life that adorned the slender hilt. Her lips curved into a smile.
Closing her eyes, Angelika conjured Finnegan McGuire’s image in her mind’s eye, able to see his brown eyes roll to the back of his head as he writhed beneath her. Able to feel his strong, muscular hips buck to and fro. Pleased with the image, she grasped the stiletto in her fist and, just at the moment of mutual orgasm –
– plunged it into the young man’s heart. Then across his throat. His face. His chest.
Warm blood splattered her bare breasts, Angelika gasping with pleasure.
Die, Finnegan McGuire, die. A thousand deaths. Each more painful than the one before.
30
‘How the hell did I get roped into coming to an art museum?’ Finn grumbled. ‘If you ask me, this is just a waste of time.’
‘I didn’t ask,’ Kate promptly retorted.
Ten minutes ago they’d arrived at the Musée du Louvre, Cædmon silent as to the reason for the visit. In that short time span, they’d climbed two flights of marble steps, waded through throngs of yammering tourists and seen centuries of art and antiquities pass in a surreal blur. Like billboards on the interstate.
A general leading his war-weary troops into battle, Cædmon strode into the high-ceilinged Salle des Bronzes. A cavernous gallery, it benefitted from the abundant natural light streaming through a bank of tall windows. Glass display cases affixed to the walls and lining the centre of the salon contained exquisite pieces of metalwork from the Classical period.
Originally a sturdy but simple medieval fortress, over the centuries the Louvre had undergone numerous renovations and expansions, evolving into the palatial residence of the kings of France. Through conquest and outright theft, those same kings amassed one of the most impressive art collections in all of Europe. Confiscated during the Revolution, the royal palace officially opened its doors as a public museum on 10 August 1793. Ironically, the event coincided with the one-year anniversary of the monarchy’s downfall.
‘Jesus, this place is at least twenty times bigger than anything Saddam built.’
Exasperated, Kate shook her head. Always trust Finn to be utterly irreverent.
But also trust him to be incredibly valiant. During the standoff with the Dark Angel, he’d actually shielded her with his own body, fully prepared to take a bullet for her. Kate was still awestruck at his incredible bravery. Even at the beginning of her disastrous marriage, during the ‘happy years’, she somehow doubted that her ex-husband would have gone to such extraordinary lengths to protect her. And while Finn liked to play the foul-mouthed commando, she knew that he had true courage and conviction. In a word, he was an unsung hero.
But she wasn’t about to sing his praises or reveal her feelings. Finn was on a mission to avenge his slain comrades and did not need or want any distractions. Earlier today, he intimated that she was just that, an unwanted distraction that he was obliged to protect.
Because she so greatly admired Finn’s loyalty to his two friends, she wanted to help, not hinder him.
Having yet to explain the purpose of the excursion, Cædmon headed for the last window in the salon. ‘From this vantage point, we can see the spectacular Axe Historique de Paris,’ he said over his shoulder, motioning them to join him.
Sandwiched between her two taller companions, Kate peered through the window; directly below them was the crowded Cour Napoléon and I. M. Pei’s famous glass pyramid.
‘As you can see, the Historic Axis runs in a westward trajectory from the apex of the glass pyramid, through the middle of the Tuileries Gardens and the Place de la Concorde.’ Cædmon tilted his chin at the two famous landmarks, visible in the hazy distance. ‘The axis then continues along the Champs-Élysées, dramatically terminating at the ultra-modern Grande Arche. Without a doubt, one of the most beautiful stretches of real estate in the world. While lovely to behold, most people are unaware that this famous axis is identical to the Sacred Axis in ancient Thebes that connected the Temple of Luxor to the Temple of Karnak.’
Finn glanced out of the window. ‘Oh, yeah. I’m sure that King Tut had a glass pyramid just like the one down there on the concourse.’
‘By “identical”, I meant that both axes were constructed on an alignment twenty-six degrees north-of-west in one direction and twenty-six degrees south-of-east in the other. Fascinating, don’t you think?’
Intrigued, Kate asked the obvious: ‘Identical by design or accident?’
‘The layout of the Axe Historique is quite intentional.’ As he spoke, a lock of red hair fell on to Cædmon’s brow.
Something about those errant strands called to mind a long-forgotten memory of Cædmon, sprawled on a rumpled bed, hands wrapped, not around her, but around a leather-bound history book. Utterly enthralled. That was when Kate realized that Cædmon Aisquith loved the mysteries of history more than he loved her. Soon thereafter, she sent the infamous ‘lettre de rupture’.
Unnerved by the memory, Kate refocused her attention on the axis. ‘The Egyptian obelisk that’s located at Place de la Concorde, wasn’t that brought to Paris from the Temple of Luxor?’
‘Hauled from Egypt to France in the nineteenth century, the obelisk originally stood sentry along the Sacred Axis at Thebes. And just like its Egyptian twin, the Paris axis is orientated to the Heliacal Rising of Sirius.’
‘Sirius is that big bright star in Canis Major, right?’
Pleased that Finn was making an effort to participate, Kate enthusiastically nodded. ‘Big and bright because Sirius is twice the size of the sun and approximately twenty times more luminous.’ She’d always attributed her avid interest in astronomy to the fact that her father was an astrophysicist.
‘Sirius is also the celestial abode of Isis, the queen of the Egyptian pantheon,’ Cædmon added. ‘Marking the beginning of the Egyptian New Year, or Prt śpdt, the heliacal rising of Sirius was heralded as a sacred event.’
‘Wouldn’t the heliacal rising of Sirius happen every morning when the sun came up?’
Although Finn’s question had merit, Kate shook her head, disavowing him of the notion. ‘You’d think so. However, in the spring, Sirius drops below the horizon, vanishing from sight for a seventy-day period. During that time, it drifts approximately one degree each day as it hovers near the Pleiades. The heliacal rising refers to the star’s re-emergence after its lengthy absence.’ She thoughtfully tapped her finger against her lip. ‘Cædmon, what exactly did you mean when you said that the Axe Historique and the Sacred Axis in Thebes are both orientated to the heliacal rising?’
‘I meant that at dawn on the morning of the helical rising, if you were to stand on the Axe Historique and gaze due east –’ turning, he extended his arm towards the wall behind them – ‘Sirius would be in your direct line of sight. But, even more amazing, that evening at sunset, if you stood in the same spot and looked due west –’ he pivoted, resuming his original stance – ‘you would see the setting sun perfectly framed within the open cube of the Grande Arche.’
‘Wow. I bet that’s an awesome sight,’ Kate murmured.
‘Truly magnificent. And while we can only assume that the Egyptians contrived an equally stunning spectacle, the Sacred Axis at Thebes was designed for one specific purpose: at the heliacal rising, the temple priests would draw the astral energy emanating from Sirius along the axis that connected the two temples.’
Hearing that, Finn said, ‘All right. I’ll bite. What’s astral energy?’
‘All stars emit electromagnetically charged energy,’ Cædmon replied. ‘The Egyptians believed that at the heliacal rising of Sirius, an opening was created in the cosmos, an aperture through which the energy of Sirius could be accessed and manipulated.’
‘And what does that have to do with the Dark Angel or those bastards at the Seven Research Foundation?’
‘I would think a great deal. German scholars in the Ahnenerbe referred to Sirius as the Black Sun. That being the same Black Sun depicted on the tattoo that you earlier showed me.’
Surprised, Kate’s eyes opened wide. ‘Which suggests that there is a connection between the Ahnenerbe and the Seven Research Foundation.’
Cædmon concurred with a nod. ‘Obsessed with Egypt, the Ahnenerbe was convinced that the origins of physics, chemistry and biology were encoded in the Egyptian glyphs, texts and sacred monuments. Whole divisions within the Ahnenerbe were dedicated to recovering the lost sciences of the ancient world.’
‘And wasn’t that a waste of time,’ Finn muttered disagreeably under his breath. ‘Talk about a bogus load of malarkey.’
‘Why is it so difficult to accept that the ancients may have possessed scientific knowledge that was equal, if not superior, to our own?’ Exhibiting the unflappable calm for which the English were famous, Cædmon stood his ground. ‘One need only examine the pyramids to know that the Egyptians were brilliant engineers.’
‘In fact, modern engineers still haven’t figured out how they built those darned things,’ Kate informed her sceptical companion.
‘And let us not forget that many of those pyramids were orientated to the constellations in the night sky. A notable achievement in any century.’
‘That reminds me, Cædmon.’ Kate suddenly recalled a remark made earlier in the day. ‘When we questioned the Dark Angel, she made a passing reference to “the great star rising with the sun”.’
‘Indeed? Then we must presume that the Seven Research Foundation knows about the heliacal rising of Sirius.’
‘Which leads to my next question: what was the purpose of drawing the astral energy from Sirius along the Sacred Axis?’
‘Ah! We finally get to the marrow.’ Blue eyes glittering, the man clearly in the know about something, Cædmon stared intently out of the window. ‘The purpose of the exercise was to create the Vril force by fusing astral energy to the telluric currents deep within the earth. And, according to the foremost Freemason of the nineteenth century, Albert Pike, the man who can glean that lost science can control the world.’
31
Jardins des Tuileries
‘I am grateful, Herr Doktor, for this opportunity to prove my worth,’ the chauffeur energetically affirmed. ‘And I will succeed where the Dark Angel failed.’
Ivo Uhlemann lightly patted Dolf Reinhardt on the chest, pleased that he relished the upcoming assignment. Although a coarse bully boy, he was dependable, a truncheon now in order. Time was running out with the heliacal rising of Sirius only three days away. Since Finnegan McGuire refused to surrender the Montségur Medallion, they must resort to brute force. Pity the poor Americans.
‘I have every confidence in your abilities,’ Ivo replied.
‘Would you like for me to drive you home beforehand, Herr Doktor?’
‘A bit more sunshine will do us both good, I think.’ Ivo glanced at the Schnauzer obediently sitting at his feet. ‘Since I’ve a yen for wild duck with chutney, I’ll have Boris drive me to Le Meurice when I’m ready to depart.’
With a blank expression on his doughy face, Dolf stared, uncomprehending. A man of plebeian tastes, he ate sausage by the pound and sauerkraut by the crock.
Suddenly annoyed, Ivo waved the chauffeur on his way.
Clucking his tongue, he signalled to Wolfgang that he was ready to continue the stroll through the Tuileries. Attentive, as always, the Schnauzer walked sedately beside him. While Ivo wouldn’t go so far as to claim that the beast was his best friend, the little salt-and-pepper dog had been a loyal and uncomplaining companion for the last twelve years.
Several minutes later, energy flagging, he sat down in one of the vacant chairs located near the model boat pond. Snapping his fingers, Ivo motioned Wolfgang to the shady spot beneath the metal chair. The pain in his abdomen severe, he took several slow deep breaths. As he did, he noticed the nearby statue of La Misére by Jean-Baptiste Hugues, a monumental nude whose limbs and torso were entwined with a constricting serpent. Ivo thought it cruelly apropos.
How the gods must be laughing.
Adjusting his panama hat to better shade his face, Ivo glanced around the pond, appalled at seeing scores of young people chattering on their phones or jabbing their thumbs across ridiculously small keypads. True narcissists, they were busily engaged in disseminating the petty details of their lives. To anyone and everyone.
Twenty years ago, these same youths would have each had their nose in a book. But, sadly, they’d had the capacity for wonder bred out of them. In its stead was a collective ennui that demanded an endless stream of mindless stimulation. While able-bodied, these loafers had no higher purpose. If they continued in this vein, they would not be able to meaningfully contribute to society. Once that happened, it would be difficult to justify their existence.
Determined to create a better world, Ivo knew that it was simply a matter of purging the horde. Certainly, there were capable and competent individuals. But too often they were held back by those of lesser intelligence. For years now, the imbeciles had been convinced by well-meaning do-gooders that their answer mattered. Their opinion counted. And, exacerbating the situation, the digital age had empowered these cretins, reinforcing the great deceit. The fact that the imbeciles reproduced at an alarmingly fast rate was a grave concern. Eventually, their escalating birthrates would enable them to conquer Europe without ever firing a single bullet.
Because that was a very real danger, those who did not meet requisite IQ standards must be sterilized. While the do-gooders would decry it as a drastic measure, Ivo contended that it was nothing less than scientifically controlled evolution aimed at improving the collective gene pool. A social theory that originated in the late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century, eugenics had been championed by such luminaries as Henry Ford, Theodore Roosevelt and Linus Pauling. Their opponents claimed that the criteria for determining a ‘defect’ was too subjective. Again, he would argue that a standardized IQ test was an objective measure.
And who among them would dare claim that ignorance was a virtue?
In point of fact, low intelligence had been scientifically linked to a host of medical and social defects such as morbidity, schizophrenia, criminal behaviour, sexual deviance and dementia. The evidence was glaringly clear: individuals with a low IQ were destined to become a burden to society. This could not, and would not, be tolerated. Through selective breeding, the dangerous trend towards mediocrity could be reverted, creating a nation of exceptional citizens.
A humane man, he’d always favoured eugenics rather than extermination. Which is why the Seven Research Foundation had spent years formulating a Universal Intelligence Quotient Policy, consulting with a wide range of experts that included social scientists, geneticists, neurologists and psychologists. Several standardized tests had been designed to measure both intelligence and aptitude. These tests would be administered to every man, woman and child, the results stored in a central data bank. Additionally, all citizens would be implanted with a microchip that not only indicated their IQ test scores, but pertinent medical and genetic screening data. Those who refused to take the IQ test would be summarily sterilized. To enforce the policy, the police would have broad authority to use a hand-held digital scanner which would quickly determine if a citizen was microchipped.
Those with an IQ less than 100 would be sent to a Eugenics Centre where they would be sterilized before being assigned to a Work Detention Programme.
The last thing that anyone wanted was another holocaust; a disastrous policy that cost the Third Reich its true place in history. Besides, he had nothing against the Jews and admired a good many of them. An enlightened plan, the Universal IQ Policy would create a society of Übermensch, Supermen, fit of body and mind, who would populate their glorious new Reich.
Hearing a sudden childish peal of laughter, Ivo glanced at the shallow pond. A colourful regatta of toy yachts gracefully bobbed and weaved on the glistening surface. A charming sight, it put a smile on his face.
With good reason, this was his favourite spot in the park. From where he sat, he could see the Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel to the east and the Obelisk at Place de la Concorde to the west. Both monuments were part of an elaborate blueprint originally devised by the Knights Templar that could unlock the entire scientific mystery of the universe.
Provided they find the Lapis Exillis.
‘And we will find it,’ Ivo rasped, not about to let Finnegan McGuire – or any man for that matter – stand in his way.
32
‘… but, of course, the trick is to maintain that power once it’s been seized,’ Cædmon Aisquith continued, having just dropped a bombshell about Freemasons controlling the world. ‘That said, I should preface my next remarks by saying that I’m about to go out on a limb –’
‘Buddy, you’ve been hanging from a twig since we got here,’ Finn muttered under his breath.
‘– but I believe the Axe Historique in Paris was constructed so that some unknown group could harness the astral energy that emanates from Sirius at the heliacal rising and fuse it to the telluric energy that emanates directly beneath the axis.’
A thoughtful expression on her face, Kate took a moment to digest Aisquith’s assertion. ‘When you say “telluric” energy, you’re referring to the earth energy that moves underground along the Earth’s crust and mantle, right?’
Aisquith smiled fondly at his favourite pupil. ‘Telluric energy is derived from the primary water system that exists inside the Earth as hydrated minerals. It’s considered a geophysical phenomenon which emits radiation and can be enhanced when there are changes in the magnetic field. In fact, telluric energy was used during the nineteenth century as a type of earth battery to power the early telegraph grids. Although little understood, some scientists believe that the power potential of telluric energy is far greater than the electricity we generate above ground.’
