The Templar's Quest

by C. M. Palov

  66

  Père Lachaise Cemetery, Paris

  0408 hours

  Kate placed a restraining hand on Finn’s arm. ‘If you kill Doctor Uhlemann, you’ll spend the rest of your life in prison. If that happens, you’ll never be able to apprehend the Dark Angel.’

  Finn glared at the white-haired man huddled on the floor, the muscles in his arm piston tight.

  ‘Please, for my sake,’ she whispered. Desperately hoping to get through to him, she was afraid to break eye contact. Worried that if she did, he’d pull the trigger.

  ‘The old bastard knew they’d show up,’ Finn rasped. ‘He’s just been sitting there biding his time. Waiting for ’em to kick down the door.’

  ‘Actually, I’ve been trying to persuade you to come to your senses,’ Dr Uhlemann declared in a noticeably weakened voice. ‘Play your cards right and you can become a member of the most elite military force in history. I am offering you a chance to not only save your life, but to improve your lot in life. All you have to do is hand over the Montségur Medallion.’

  ‘Fuck you!’

  ‘If you insist on behaving like a fool, Sergeant McGuire, you will die an inglorious death. On that, you have my word.’

  ‘News flash: I plan on getting out of here alive.’ Finn took a menacing step in the older man’s direction. ‘But I’m gonna need a human shield.’

  Kate spared their captive a quick glance. Face drawn, brow beaded with perspiration, Ivo Uhlemann was clearly in a great deal of pain. Although the man was a monster, he was an ailing one. ‘We can’t take him; he’s too frail. Just look at him. He’ll only slow us down,’ she added, hoping that would sway Finn.

  ‘You just cut a break, you damn Nazi bastard,’ Finn muttered under his breath as he unzipped his Go Bag. Retrieving the Taser, he unceremoniously shoved it in Kate’s direction. ‘If you have to fire it, make sure you’re within fifteen feet of the target. Slide the safety back and hold the trigger for at least three seconds. You’ll only have the one cartridge so make sure your aim is true. Got it?’

  ‘I understand.’ Kate wiped her sweaty hand on her trouser leg before taking the Taser from him. It was the first time in her life that she’d ever held a weapon. It felt like a foreign object. The fact that it looked like a child’s toy made her all the more nervous.

  Still muttering angrily, Finn slapped a piece of grey duct tape over Dr Uhlemann’s mouth before restraining the older man’s wrists and ankles. That done, he rejoined Kate at the porthole window.

  ‘On the count of three, we’re going to bolt out of this mausoleum, hang a Louie and run like the wind.’ Instructions issued, Finn flung open the heavy iron door.

  ‘Three!’ arrived so suddenly that Kate’s legs and feet involuntarily moved of their own accord, her brain playing catch-up as they charged through the gloom. Because of the glut of burial crypts, monuments, tombstones and funerary statues, it was impossible to ‘run’. Instead, they managed a fast trot as they wended their way through the jumble.

  ‘Be careful,’ Finn whispered, cinching a hand around her elbow. ‘The cobbles are slippery.’

  Knowing that an answer wasn’t necessary, or even desired, she nodded breathlessly.

  They’d gone approximately a hundred yards when Kate started to lag, her shin muscles painfully protesting against the uphill trek. Lungs on fire, she strained to draw breath, her rucksack smacking against her spine with each plodding stride.

  Still holding her by the elbow, Finn headed for an enormous marble statue of a seated woman garbed in classical robes. Morta. The Roman goddess of death.

  Kate wedged herself into the protective crevice between Morta and the iron portcullis that marked the entrance to a Roman-style crypt. Legs wobbling, she gratefully slid to her haunches.

  Finn dropped on bent knee beside her. ‘We’ll rest here for a few moments while I figure out how the hell we’re gonna elude the bad guys.’

  ‘Not only do we have to contend with the hilly terrain, but it’s like a big marble maze,’ she huffed.

  ‘That’s the least of our worries. The only way out of here is through the same gate we entered. All of the other gates are locked until nine o’clock when the cemetery opens to the public.’

  ‘Do you think our assailants are aware of that fact?’

  Grim-faced, Finn nodded. ‘And I guarantee they’ve got at least one sentry posted at the open gate.’ He shoved his hand into his Go Bag and removed a pair of night-vision goggles. Pivoting on his heel, he raised the goggles to his eyes and peered in the direction of the mausoleum where they’d left Dr Uhlemann. ‘I count a total of four unfriendlies.’

  Oh, God!

  ‘Damn it!’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ she asked anxiously.

  ‘One of the uglies is using a walkie-talkie. That means there’s more than four of ’em prowling about.’ He stuffed the NVGs into his bag.

  ‘Do you think we even have a remote chance of getting out of here alive?’

  Several seconds slipped past, the question hanging between them. Unanswered.

  Raising a hand to her face, Finn gently brushed aside a hank of flyaway hair that had snagged in the corner of her mouth. ‘Ready to move out?’

  Kate gamely nodded. ‘I’m ready,’ she told him, scrambling to her feet. Heart thumping erratically, the brave front was all for show.

  Finn set a brisk pace, holding on to her upper arm as they dodged between crypts and monuments. To her right, on the eastern horizon, dark clouds were plastered to the skyline like a well-worn suit.

  Several minutes into the trek, Finn thrust a fist into the air, signalling Kate to a halt. He then motioned for her to get behind a chipped marble ledge.

  ‘On the double quick,’ he mouthed.

  Biting back a fearful yelp, she ducked behind the low-slung wall. Finn squatted beside her. The iron gate that they’d earlier driven through was fifty yards away. A sentry paced back and forth in front of it.

  Leaning close, Finn placed his mouth against her ear and whispered, ‘I’m going to soft-foot up to the guard and take him out.’

  ‘What do you want me to do?’ she whispered back at him.

  ‘Stay here while I take care of business. When you hear a high-pitched whistle, that’ll be your signal to haul ass through the open gate. There’s a subway station about a block to the northwest. Assuming we get out of here undetected, that’ll be our next rallying point.’

  ‘Be careful, Finn. And, please, no do-or-die theatrics.’

  ‘Roger that.’

  Clutching the Taser to her chest, Kate watched as Finn dashed towards the gate in a crouched zigzag pattern. A few seconds later, he faded into the shadows.

  A few seconds after that, a striped tabby cat nimbly jumped on to the ledge in front of her. About to shoo the kitty aside, Kate caught a blur of motion out of the corner of her eye. She automatically turned her head.

  Even in the murky light, she instantly recognized the diaphanous blonde halo.

  The Dark Angel!

  No more than twenty-five feet away.

  Hit with a burst of fear, she accidentally dropped the Taser.

  Frantically swiping her hand across the dew-dampened grass, Kate grabbed hold of the plastic weapon. The cat, thinking it a game, batted at her hand with its paw. Bumbling, unable to see what she was doing on account of the frisky feline, she tried to locate the trigger.

  Got it!

  Wrist shaking, fingers trembling, she took aim and fired.

  To her horror, nothing happened.

  Realizing that she’d forgotten to deactivate the safety, Kate hurriedly slid the shield cover. A red laser light immediately appeared, frenetically bouncing off a nearby tombstone. She lurched upright. Committed, she re-aimed the Taser and pressed the trigger.

  Two thin electric wires blasted through the air … before harmlessly dropping to the ground.

  ‘If you have to fire it, make sure you’re within fifteen feet of the target.’

&n
bsp; ‘Oh, God,’ Kate moaned. She’d just made a costly and, more than likely, deadly mistake.

  Standing approximately twenty feet away, the blonde-haired woman raised her right arm in Kate’s direction. In her hand, she clutched a sinister-looking weapon.

  ‘Guten tag, little mouse.’

  Kate dropped the Taser, this time on purpose, and raised both hands.

  Casually sauntering towards her, the beautiful leather-clad Dark Angel smiled coldly as she aimed the gun directly at Kate’s heart.

  67

  Père Lachaise Cemetery, Paris

  0421 hours

  A ghost warrior, Finn wended his way through the dark necropolis, purposefully keeping to the charcoal shadows.

  Fifty feet from the cemetery entrance, he ducked behind a granite plinth. Knowing that there were more than four enemy gunmen prowling about, he strained his ears, listening, unable to detect any sound save for the innocuous rustle of leaves.

  Stuffing the Mark 23 into his waistband, he snatched the night-vision goggles out of his Go Bag.

  Fuck. The sentry posted at the gate was packing a Heckler & Koch MP5-K sub-machine gun. German-made bang-bang that had thirty rounds of nine mil ammo. When set to ‘full automatic’, it could blow that many holes in a man in a matter of seconds. Urban warfare at its deadliest.

  Stuffing the NVGs back into his Go Bag, Finn wrapped his hand around the grip on the Mark 23 and quietly made his approach, the sentry now forty feet away.

  Thirty.

  Twenty.

  His actions honed from years of training, he flipped on the laser sight. Grateful that his weapon had a sound suppressor, he stilled his breath as he raised his right arm. A red dot instantly appeared on the other man’s forehead. Not about to second-guess the morality of the act, Finn squeezed the trigger.

  The force of the shot hurled the sentry backward, knocking him off his feet.

  In the split-second before he crash landed and his brain permanently shut down, the bastard reflexively pulled the trigger on the MP5-K, strafing the night sky with nine mil bullets, shattering the silence.

  PaPaPaPaPaPaPaPaPaPop

  Fuck!

  Knowing that the burst of gunfire would draw unfriendlies like buzzards to road kill, Finn spun on his heel and took off running.

  For God’s sake, Katie, stay put! I’m on my way!

  Chest tight, heart thundering, he charged through the labyrinth, dodging statues and headstones.

  In his peripheral vision, a dark blur suddenly materialized. Finn turned his head; verified that it was an unfriendly. Raising his right arm, he took aim and fired. The bullet entered the other man’s brain via his eye socket. Like a marionette jerked by a puppeteer, the gunman twitched viciously. Then, strings cut, he fell gracelessly to the ground.

  No time to gloat, Finn kept running.

  A few moments later, he vaulted over the marble ledge.

  Where the hell was Kate?

  ‘Katie!’ he whispered urgently. ‘It’s me!’

  The only sound he could hear was his own harsh breath. Hit with a hinky feeling, Finn turned full circle. Which is when he spied the black plastic Taser laying on the ground. Still connected to two metal wires. Obviously, Kate had fired it. And missed the target.

  Fuck!

  Acting purely on impulse, Finn leaped back over the ledge and headed towards the mausoleum where they’d left Ivo Uhlemann. He figured – hoped – that Kate was still alive. Had they killed her on the spot, they would have left her corpse behind. A gruesome message. He figured – again, hoped – that they’d abducted Kate to force his hand.

  Hauling ass, Finn cannonballed down the hill. To hell with stealth. They already knew he was coming.

  As he neared the mausoleum, Finn could see that someone had pulled the Mercedes sedan in front of the crypt. The engine idling, twin plumes of smoke wafted out of the tailpipes.

  Thank God! There was still time to make the trade.

  Needing to collect his thoughts, Finn quickly devised a game plan, well aware that he had to be proactive, not reactive. No question, he’d give Uhlemann what he wanted – the Montségur Medallion – but, in return, he needed an iron-clad guarantee that Kate would be given safe passage out of the cemetery. Like Kate said earlier, he had enough evidence on the digital voice recorder.

  Fifteen yards from the mausoleum, Finn stopped in his tracks. Although he had the Mark 23 clutched in his right hand, he held it off to the side. Non-threatening, but still in plain sight. Just in case.

  From where he stood, he watched as Ivo Uhlemann, supported by a big dude in a black chauffeur’s suit, exited the mausoleum. Given his shuffling gait, the old German looked to be in a lot of pain. Next, Kate and the Dark Angel emerged from the crypt.

  Turning her head, Kate caught sight of Finn standing in the middle of the cobblestone lane.

  ‘Finn! It’s an am–’ Kate was silenced in mid-shout, the Dark Angel viciously shoving a gun muzzle to her head.

  Decked out in skintight black leather, the blonde bitch smiled flirtatiously at Finn – just before two men, each armed with a MP5-K sub-machine gun, lunged from the shadows and opened fire.

  Weapons set on full auto, they unleashed a torrent of nine mil bullets in Finn’s direction.

  PaPaPaPaPaPaPaPaPaPop

  Shit!

  Finn dived behind a mortuary statue. Hitting the ground, he tucked and rolled. In his wake, marble chips flew through the air like wedding confetti, clumps of turf pelting the statue’s granite base. An instant later, a leafy tree branch crashed to the ground beside him, severed from its limb by the hail of bullets. The noise was deafening.

  Hugging the granite plinth, he peered around the corner. Muzzle flashes flickered like a swarm of fireflies, spent shells arcing through the air. He pulled back. Mark 23 clutched to his chest, he waited. Although he couldn’t see, he heard the squeal of tyre rubber as the Mercedes floored it down the cobblestone lane towards the open gate.

  Just as Finn hoped would happen, both gunmen ran out of ammo at the same time.

  A three-second lull at the most, he seized his chance. In one smooth, well-practised move, he spun around the corner and dropped to his knee. Grasping his right wrist with his left hand, he sighted the first target and pulled the trigger. The gunman on the left barrelled through the air, a hole blown through his heart. A split-second later, he pivoted, aimed and fired again, taking out the gunman on the right.

  Both targets neutralized, he lurched to his feet. The acrid smell of gun smoke permeated the air. In the near distance, he heard the distinctive two-tone bleat of French police sirens. At any moment, the cops would careen through the gate at the end of the cobblestone lane.

  Time to beat a hasty retreat.

  Galvanized into action, Finn shoved the Mark 23 into his Go Bag before taking off in the complete opposite direction to the cemetery gate. Nerves sizzling, brain synapses firing, adrenaline pumping, his brain and body chemistry quickly adapted to the new situation. Charging uphill, he didn’t venture a backward glance. Intent on escaping, he couldn’t spare the half-second to look over his shoulder.

  He spied a mausoleum situated next to an oak tree, which in turn was rooted next to the eight-foot-high cemetery wall, and headed in that direction. Literally flying by the seat of his pants, Finn leaped on to a sturdy headstone. From there, he lunged on to the roof of the mausoleum. Waking the dead, he charged across the clay-tiled roof to the towering oak tree. An instant later, he was airborne. Grabbing hold of a limb with both hands, he catapulted over the barbed wire strung along the top of the brick wall … landing on the hood of a Renault hatchback parked on the other side of the wall.

  Mercifully, he caught a break; the Renault wasn’t rigged with an anti-theft alarm.

  Jumping off the bonnet, Finn sprinted across the street towards an apartment complex, managing to duck behind a large plastic rubbish container just as a police car sped past.

  Not about to be caught red-handed with a damned smokin
g gun, he raised the lid on the rubbish bin and dumped the Mark 23. Disposing of some very incriminating evidence.

  He then slipped into the shadows and made good his escape.

  The easy part done, he now had to figure out how the hell he was going to rescue Kate.

  68

  Rue de Rivoli, Paris

  0448 hours

  Finn was dead.

  Shell-shocked, Kate huddled against the Mercedes back seat, her cheek pressed to the tempered glass. No one could have survived that deadly barrage. So much sound. So much fury.

  It’s my fault that Finn’s dead. He died trying to save me. Earlier, at the hotel, she’d been too afraid to reveal her true feelings. Now he’d never know.

  The heartache more than she could bear, Kate jammed a balled fist to her mouth.

  Don’t scream!

  She could mourn later. Right now, she had to stay focused. It’s what Finn would want me to do. The two gunmen had undoubtedly retrieved the Montségur Medallion from Finn’s bullet-riddled body. Which meant that she was the only person who could stop the Seven Research Foundation from finding the Lapis Exillis and using it to perform an unthinkable scientific experiment. One that would literally turn back the hands of time.

  Kate glanced at the white-haired man seated beside her, Dr Uhlemann in the process of removing a hypodermic needle from the crook of his arm. Withered lips curved in a dreamy smile, he handed the used needle to the blonde-haired woman in the front passenger seat. Angelika, in turn, placed the needle into a plastic case.

  Rolling down his shirt sleeve, Dr Uhlemann nonchalantly returned Kate’s stare. ‘You look like a terrified mourning dove. It’s a drug. Nothing more, nothing less. Doctors administer it to patients all the time under the pharmaceutical name diamorphine.’ Buttoning the cuff at his wrist, he added, ‘I wonder how many of the sick and dying are aware that their doctors have turned them into heroin addicts?’

  Angelika affected a horrified expression. ‘I’m shocked to learn that you’ve become a skag junkie.’