The Templar's Quest

by C. M. Palov

  Hearing a drawn breath, Kate turned her head. Finn, attired in a pair of low-slung cargo pants, stood next to the bureau.

  ‘I’m not sorry,’ he said without preamble. ‘And in the spirit of full disclosure, I’m thinking that was a couple of days overdue.’

  Kate forced herself to meet his gaze, to get past the embarrassment of having writhed naked on the bed with him. ‘I’m not sorry either.’

  ‘Man, that’s a relief.’ Grabbing the twin to her chair, Finn pulled it over to the bureau and sat down.

  ‘Although … I owe you an apology,’ she said haltingly. ‘I didn’t mean to throw it in your face about Cædmon.’

  To her surprise, Finn grinned good-naturedly. ‘Glad that you did, actually, seeing as how it got things kick-started between us. And I know you’re not the type to purposefully play the jealousy card. I just – um – overreacted. Talk about going ga-ga.’

  Kate blushed, well aware that she was guilty of the same crime. On paper, they were an ‘odd couple’, hailing from different backgrounds, with little in common. But the paper trail wouldn’t show the deep-down, inexplicable sense of ‘rightness’ that she felt with him. Or the intense physical attraction.

  Without asking, Finn took the apple out of her hand. Removing his penknife, he pulled out a blade and began to peel it for her.

  The next few moments passed in companionable silence.

  Extending a hand towards Finn’s chest, Kate lightly fingered the silver Celtic cross that he wore around his neck. ‘I’ve always thought that a Celtic cross on a treeless hillside was a hauntingly beautiful sight.’

  ‘The cheilteach belonged to my da.’ Finn stopped what he was doing, a red apple ribbon dangling from his knife blade. ‘Only keepsake I have. He died when I was fifteen years old. The Guinness finally got the better of him.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Finn sliced a wedge of peeled apple and offered it to her. ‘When we were at the houseboat in Washington, you mentioned that you were divorced.’

  She dug her toes into the thick carpet pile, the conversation having just skidded off the runway.

  Perturbed, Kate stared at the piece of fruit. She didn’t like to think, let alone talk, about her marriage to the soft-spoken, brilliant, boyishly handsome Jeffrey Zeller. A fellow cultural anthropologist, they’d met at a symposium at Johns Hopkins University. On the surface, they were the perfect couple. Behind closed doors, it was a different story entirely.

  ‘My marriage didn’t work out. I won’t bore you with the details,’ she intoned woodenly, head downcast, gaze still focused on the apple wedge.

  ‘Kate, don’t take this the wrong way, but …’ Finn’s brow furrowed slightly. ‘I noticed that you have a couple of stretch marks on your –’

  ‘That usually happens to a woman who’s given birth,’ she interjected, beating him to the punchline.

  ‘I know. That’s why I brought it up.’

  A heaviness, like late-afternoon thunder, hung between them.

  Finn gently nudged her forearm. ‘Hey, Katie, y’okay?’

  Defensively crossing her arms under her breasts, Kate hitched her hips, twisting her upper body away from him. ‘No, I am not okay. My infant son died two years ago because his negligent father was busy screwing a twenty-four-year-old graduate student and he couldn’t be bothered with checking the baby monitor.’ The confession, unplanned and uncensored, slipped from her lips before she could slam on the brakes.

  ‘Christ, Kate. I had no idea.’

  ‘He died from SIDS … sudden infant death syndrome. Which means that no one could ever tell me the reason why he –’

  Kate closed her eyes, the horrible night replaying in her mind’s eye. White crib. Blue-eyed baby boy. Heart pounding. Limbs shaking. She opened her mouth to scream. Oh, God! There is no God. If there is, I hate him.

  Suddenly dizzy, she grabbed the edge of the bureau. In that same instant, a muscular arm slid around her waist, Finn lifting her out of her chair and on to his lap, protectively tucking her under his wing. His pity more than she could handle, Kate struggled. Finn simply wrapped his arms around her that much tighter.

  ‘Don’t let your thoughts go there,’ he whispered.

  Flattening her hands against his chest, Kate rigidly permitted the embrace.

  Surrender, a voice in her head chided. Just for a few moments. He can’t take your pain away. And, not having any children of his own, chances are Finn can’t comprehend the depth of your despair. It doesn’t matter. He’s offering you some much-needed comfort. Take it.

  With a shuddering sigh, she sagged towards him, leaning her head on Finn’s shoulder.

  In the days and months following her son’s death, she’d been like an airborne bird in a slow-motion death spiral. No one knew how to console her. Her parents tried, but Kate refused to accept that her suffering was due to her attachment to the ego, the tenets of Buddhism cold solace to a mother who had just lost her only child. Her husband, Jeffrey, was too busy excusing his complicity in the tragedy. Her friends, many of whom were new parents, began to shy away once they realized that she couldn’t bear to be around their children. Although wary, she attended a SIDS support group meeting. She lasted ten minutes. While they meant well, their heartbreaking stories only compounded her own grief.

  Propping a curled hand under her chin, Finn coaxed her into looking at him. ‘I’m curious. What was your son’s name?’

  Kate blinked, surprised; very few people ever thought to ask. ‘His name was Samuel,’ she replied in a strained voice, a husky whisper the best she could manage. ‘But from the day he was born, everyone called him Sammy. Had he lived, he’d now be two and a half years old.’

  ‘Samuel … that’s a nice name.’

  ‘The first year after he died, I’d sometimes wake up in the middle of the night and, for a brief infinitesimal second, I could smell baby powder. I thought I was losing my mind.’ Glancing at Finn, she grimaced self-consciously. ‘The jury’s still out on that one. What I did lose was my interest in just about everything, including my career at Johns Hopkins. Suddenly, I no longer cared about getting tenure. “Publish or perish” –’ she shrugged her shoulders – ‘it no longer mattered to me.’

  ‘Death has a way of rearranging our priorities.’

  ‘It’s true. Jeffrey’s adultery became inconsequential. Although it contributed to my leaving academia. Cultural anthropology is a close-knit clan.’ She snorted at the pun. ‘I certainly didn’t want to run into her. And I never again wanted to see him. That’s how I ended up as a subject-matter expert working at the Pentagon.’

  ‘Want me to pay the bastard a visit?’

  ‘Yes. No,’ she amended a split-second later. She’d long ago closed the book on Jeffrey Zeller.

  ‘I can’t imagine the heartache of losing a child. That said, over the years I’ve lost some really close friends and … it takes a long time before you can think about them and maintain any semblance of composure.’ As he spoke, Finn absently combed his fingers through her hair. ‘When I do remember them, I never think about that last day.’

  ‘The fact that Sammy only exists in the past tense is what hurts so much.’ She paused, letting the pain wash over her. ‘It’s why I have such a hard time envisioning the future.’

  ‘You just have to concentrate on the present. If you start living in the now, the future will eventually come into focus.’

  She glanced at the Celtic cross. ‘I thought you were a Catholic, not a Buddhist.’

  ‘Honestly? I don’t know what the hell I am.’ Warm lips nuzzled the side of her neck, his left hand sliding from her waist to her hip. ‘Happy to be with you, Katie. That’s what I am.’

  ‘I’m happy, too, Finn.’

  They’d spent the last four days together. Hardly the makings of a lifetime commitment.

  But could it be the beginning of one?

  To tell the truth, she didn’t know. But she was willing to find out, Finn having proved himself a far bet
ter man than her ex-husband.

  A far better man that most, I’ll warrant.

  Just then, Finn’s palm pilot began to vibrate loudly against the bureau.

  ‘I programmed it to alert me when the Benz left the garage.’ Finn picked up the device and scrolled through the menus. A few seconds later, he turned the display screen so that she could see the tracking map. ‘Uhlemann’s headed this way. Time to do the Hustle.’

  59

  Mont de la Lune, The Languedoc

  2315 hours

  I’ve just found the Lapis Exillis! The Stone in Exile.

  The Grail!

  Astounded, Cædmon stared at the gold pyramid-shaped object cached inside the limestone aumbry.

  ‘First an Isis idol and now this,’ he marvelled, flabbergasted that the Grail of legend was actually the Benben stone, one of ancient Egypt’s most sacred relics. To have unearthed the artefact in Egypt would have been noteworthy. To find it in the south of France was mind-boggling.

  Bending at the waist, he peered more closely, able to see that there were hieroglyphs carved around the base of the stone.

  ‘ “I come from the Earth to meet the star,” ’ he translated, the ‘star’ in question undoubtedly Sirius, the celestial abode of Isis.

  Bracing both hands around the pyramidal stone, Cædmon carefully removed it from the niche and placed it on the altar. Roughly the size of a kettle, it was surprisingly heavy, weighing at least seven pounds.

  ‘Yellow, glittering, precious gold.’

  But unlike the gilded Isis figurine, the Grail wasn’t fashioned from thinly hammered gold applied to bronze. Instead, the pyramidal stone had actually been electroplated ! A technology that supposedly didn’t exist prior to the year 1800 when Alessandro Volta engineered the first electric cell battery.

  And because it was gold-plated, he had no idea what comprised the core substance. Was it a stone? A crystal? A fallen meteorite? Whatever it was, the very fact that it had been electroplated proved that the Egyptians knew how to produce electricity.

  What else did they know how to do? he wondered as he stared contemplatively at the Grail, still in a state of confused awe.

  My God! It’s the bloody Benben stone!

  Shrouded in mystery, Egyptologists were divided over the precise meaning of the Benben stone. Some claimed it symbolized the first lump of earth enlivened by the blessed rays of the sun. A few thought it was a perch for the Bennu bird, the mythological Phoenix that engendered the creative process. Then there were those who claimed the pyramidal stone symbolized a drop of semen that fell from the god Atum’s penis when he masturbated the world into existence. Indeed, the Coffin Texts intimated that the Benben stone had magical powers, although he suspected that the ancient object had more to do with technology than the occult.

  A key to unlock scientific knowledge that had been lost eons ago.

  Whatever it was, the Benben stone had supposedly been smuggled into Syria in the twelfth century BC during a popular uprising against the Pharaoh Merenptah. Where it promptly disappeared in the desert sands.

  Could that be the reason why the Cathars referred to the pyramidal stone as the Lapis Exillis, the Stone in Exile? The same appellation used by Wolfram von Eschenbach to describe the Grail.

  Overwhelmed with tantalizing questions for which he had few answers, Cædmon lifted the golden stone from the altar and deposited it in his rucksack. Unfortunately, he couldn’t take both the Isis idol and the Grail. It would be difficult enough worming his back through the tunnel with just the one relic. The Grail was the prize. He could retrieve the Isis figurine at a later date.

  As he turned his back on the altar, Cædmon was guiltily put in mind of Prometheus forced to steal fire from the gods. An act for which the mighty Zeus had Prometheus tethered to a rock while an eagle dined on his liver. Day after agonizing day.

  Penance for his sins.

  60

  Rue des Saint-Pères, Paris

  0130 hours

  ‘Is the Taser really necessary?’

  ‘As soon as Uhlemann realizes that he’s been ambushed, chances are he’ll go ape shit,’ Finn replied bluntly. ‘So, yeah. Absolutely necessary.’ Taking Kate by the arm, he ushered her across Rue des Saints-Pères.

  At that late hour, there were few motorists on the narrow street and even fewer pedestrians.

  ‘Maybe we should try to contact Cædmon,’ Kate suggested in a worried tone of voice. ‘What if he found the Grail? Uhlemann might be more amenable to turning over the Dark Angel if –’

  ‘I’m only gonna say this one time, Kate: I’m not going to jeopardize my mission because of a half-baked, half-ass theory concocted by your harebrained buddy.’ Finn shot her a meaningful glance, willing her compliance. Not altogether certain that he’d secured it, he checked the palm pilot. ‘Looks like the Benz is driving around the block. Which means that we have approximately forty seconds to insert.’

  They dodged behind a tall topiary tree, one of a pair that framed the entrance to Ivo Uhlemann’s apartment building. Stowing the palm pilot in his Go Bag, Finn removed the Taser. Purchased under the table at a military supply store in Montparnasse, the stun gun was the most powerful weapon in his arsenal.

  ‘What if Doctor Uhlemann’s chauffeur is armed?’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he said reassuringly, needing Kate to hang tight. ‘When Uhlemann’s chauffeur walks around the Mercedes to open the rear passenger door, I’ll neutralize the bastard before he can draw a weapon. Because of the dark tint on the Mercedes’ windows, Uhlemann will most likely be unaware of what’s happening.’ He reached into his Go Bag and removed a roll of duct tape and a pair of wire cutters. Handing both items to Kate, he said, ‘After I zap the driver, you’re to cut the wires on the Taser darts.’

  Just then, a graphite grey Mercedes sedan pulled up to the kerb. Standing in the shadows, they stared at the faint puffs of diesel fumes emitted from the exhaust pipe of the idling vehicle.

  The driver’s side door opened. A large man dressed in a black chauffeur’s suit got out of the Benz.

  Kate gasped.

  Well, what do ya know? It’s ol’ Cue Ball.

  ‘Stay on my six,’ Finn whispered as he stepped forward, the Taser tucked out of sight behind his leg.

  ‘Hey, Baldy. How’s it hanging?’

  On hearing Finn’s voice, the chauffer stopped in mid-stride.

  Having caught the big bastard off guard, Finn whipped his right arm into a firing position and pulled the trigger. Two darts, each connected to a metal wire, were ejected. A split-second later, the chauffeur began to convulsively twitch as 50,000 volts of electric current travelled from the stun gun to his chest. A crackling sound accompanied the graceless jive.

  The instant that he released the trigger, the other man lurched forward. Like a felled tree in the forest.

  Catching the heavy bastard in his arms, Finn propped him against the side of the Mercedes. Kate, wire cutters in hand, snipped the connection. Finn patted him down, smiling as he removed a Heckler & Koch Mark 23 from the other man’s waistband.

  Shoving the Mark 23 into his Go Bag, he removed a second cartridge and quickly reloaded the Taser. ‘Okay, one more fish to fry.’

  ‘Funny,’ Kate muttered under her breath as she opened the rear passenger door.

  A white-haired man stuck his head through the opening, clearly unaware that he was in any danger. Still holding the goon against the Benz with his left arm, Finn raised his right and pulled the trigger.

  A frenetic pulse of electricity arced through the air.

  A shocked expression on his face, Uhlemann writhed gracelessly. Completely incapacitated, he fell backward into the Mercedes.

  Kate ran around to the other side of the vehicle, opened the rear door and dragged Uhlemann across the leather seat, giving Finn enough room to shove the chauffeur into the Benz.

  ‘Quick! Hand me the tape.’

  Roll in hand, Finn ripped off a long piece with his teeth and strapped
Uhlemann’s hands together. That done, he bound the older man’s ankles and finished by slapping a piece of tape over his mouth.

  ‘Time to boogie,’ he told Kate, relieved that the operation had gone down without a hitch.

  ‘Aren’t you going to truss his hands and feet?’ Kate asked, gesturing to the unconscious chauffeur.

  ‘Nope.’ Opening the front passenger door, Finn hopped into the Mercedes. ‘I plan on cutting the big bastard loose as soon as we get to the next stop.’

  Kate, the designated driver, got behind the wheel. Noticing that he’d exchanged the Taser for the HK Mark 23, her eyes opened wide. ‘Finn, I don’t think you should be brandishing –’

  ‘I know what I’m doing,’ he interjected. ‘Now, let’s hit it.’

  Looking none too pleased, Kate pulled away from the kerb and headed down the street, turning right at the corner and driving around the block to Boulevard St Germain. As per the mission op that Finn had earlier devised, they would cross the Seine at Pont de Sully then proceed to Place de la Bastille.

  Finn popped the magazine from the pistol. Seeing twelve .45 bullets, a full mag, he smiled. Beautiful. He next pulled the slide a fraction, just far enough to glimpse the chambered bonus round. His smile widened. He always liked the heft and feel of a Mark 23, the sidearm carried by most of the Special Forces. It was a good, reliable piece. Of course, the last time he used one, it’d been blown out of his hand by a trigger-happy Syrian.

  ‘I think the chauffeur’s coming to,’ Kate announced anxiously a few moments later when a huge bald head suddenly appeared in the rear-view mirror.

  Twisting at the waist, Finn peered over the back of his seat at the black-suited chauffeur. ‘ That is a wicked broken nose,’ he remarked smugly as he appraised his handiwork. Like any man, he took pride in a job well done.

  Clearly disorientated, the chauffeur turned his head from side to side. At seeing his employer slumped against the seat, his face contorted into an ugly grimace. ‘Du verdammter arschficker! You killed Herr Doktor Uhlemann!’