King Solomon's Diamonds

20 The Enemy of my Enemy

“Master Penekal!” he heard from a distance on the other side of the fence. It was the very man he had come to see, the local master of the lodge. “You’re a bit early. Wait, I’ll come and open for you. Hope you do not mind sitting outside in the fresh air. The power is out again.”

“Thank you,” Penekal smiled. “I have no problem getting some fresh air, sir.”

He had never before met Prof. Imru, Head of the Freemasons of Cairo and Giza. All Penekal knew of him was that he was an anthropologist and the chief executive of the People’s Movement for the Protection of Heritage Sites, recently having been involved in a global tribunal on archaeological crimes in North Africa. Although the professor was an affluent and powerful man, his personality proved to be very agreeable and he made Penekal feel at home at once.

“A drink?” Prof. Imru asked.

“Thank you. I’ll have what you have,” Penekal answered, feeling rather silly with rolls of old parchment under his arm here in the solitude of natural beauty outside the building. Unsure of the protocol, he kept to smiling cordially and keeping his words reserved for answers instead of statements.

“So,” Prof. Imru started as he sat down with a glass of ice tea, giving the other to his guest, “you say you have some queries about an alchemist?”

“I do, sir,” Penekal admitted. “I am not a man to play games, for I’m simply too old to have the time for subterfuge.”

“I can appreciate that,” Imru smiled.

Clearing his throat, Penekal dove right in. “I was just wondering if currently the Freemasons are perhaps engaging in alchemic practice that involves… uh…,” he struggled with the formulation of his query.

“Just ask, Master Penekal,” Imru said, hoping to sooth his visitor’s nerves.

“Are you perhaps busy with rites that could influence the constellations?” Penekal asked, narrowing his eyes in a wince of discomfort. “I realize how it sounds, but…”

“How does it sound?” Imru asked curiously.

“Unbelievable,” the old astronomer conceded.

“You’re speaking to a purveyor of grand rituals and age-old esoterica, my friend. Let me assure you, there are very few things in this Universe that are unbelievable to me, and precious little that is impossible,” Prof. Imru revealed proudly.

“You see, my brotherhood is also an obscure organization. It was founded so long ago that there is practically no record of our founders,” Penekal explained.

“I know. You are from the Dragon Watchers of Hermopolis. I know,” Prof. Imru nodded assuringly. “I am after all, an anthropology professor, my good man. And as a masonic initiate, I am fully aware of the work your order has been engaged in all these centuries. As a matter of fact, it locks in with much of our own rites and bases. Your forefathers followed Thoth, I know, but what is it you think is happening here?”

Almost leaping up in enthusiasm, Penekal placed his scrolls on the table, unrolling the maps for Prof. Imru to scrutinize. “See?” he panted anxiously. “These are stars that have fallen from their seats in the past week and a half, sir. Do you recognize them?”

For a long while Prof. Imru silently regarded the stars marked on the map, trying to make sense of them. Finally he looked up. “I’m not much of an astronomer, Master Penekal. I know this one is very important in magic circles, also present in the Codex of Solomon.”

He pointed to the first star Penekal and Ofar had marked. “It’s significant in alchemical practices from France in the mid 18^th Century, but I must confess, as far as I am aware, we have no alchemist working at the moment,” Prof. Imru informed Penekal. “What element is at play here? Gold?”

Penekal answered with a dreadful countenance, “Diamonds.”

Then he showed Prof. Imru the news links of the murders near Nice, France. With a low tone, quivering in urgency, he disclosed the details of the murders of Madame Chantal and her housekeeper. “The most prominent diamond stolen during that incident, Professor, is the Celeste,” he groaned.

“I have heard of it. Some miraculous stone of higher quality than the Cullinan, I have heard. But what is its significance here?” Prof. Imru asked.

Penekal looked terribly drained, the professor noticed, a demeanor that had visibly grown darker since the old visitor learned that the Freemasons were not the architects of the recent phenomena. “The Celeste is the prime stone that can defeat the collection of Solomon’s seventy-two diamonds, should they be used against the Magician, a great sage of terrible intention and power,” Penekal explained so rapidly that he had begun to run out of breath.

“Please, Master Penekal, have a seat here. You are exerting yourself too much in this heat. Take a moment. I will still be here to listen, my friend,” Prof. Imru said before suddenly falling into a state of deep contemplation.

“W-wha… what is it, sir?” Penekal asked.

“Give me a moment, please,” the professor begged, frowning as his recollection burned. In the shade of the acacia trees that sheltered the old Masonic building, the professor paced in thought. While Penekal sipped his ice tea to cool both his body and his worries, he watched the professor mutter quietly to himself. At once, his host seemed to snap out of it and he turned to Penekal with a peculiar look of disbelief. “Master Penekal, have you ever heard of the Sage Ananiah?”

“I have not, sir. Sounds biblical,” Penekal said, shrugging.

“The Magician you described to me, his abilities and that which he uses to wreak pandemonium,” he tried to explain, but his own words failed him, “he… I cannot even think this, but we have seen many absurdities coming to truth before,” he shook his head. “This man sounds like a mystic encountered by a French initiate in 1782, but it cannot be the same man, obviously.” His latter words sounded frail and uncertain, but for logic. That was something Penekal understood greatly. He sat staring at the intelligent and righteous leader, hoping to have formed some sort of allegiance, hoping that the professor would know what to do.

“And he is collecting King Solomon’s diamonds to make sure they cannot be used to thwart his workings?” Prof. Imru inquired with as much passion as Penekal had had when he first presented the predicament.

“That is correct, sir. We have to get our hands on the rest of the diamonds, numbering sixty-eight in total. As my poor friend Ofar suggested in his infinite and foolish optimism,” Penekal smiled bitterly. “Short of buying the stones that are in the possession of the world’s famous and rich, we will not be able to obtain them before the Magician does.”

Prof. Imru stopped his pacing and stared at the old astronomer. “Never underestimate the ludicrous aims of the optimist, my friend,” he said with an expression between amusement and renewed interest. “Some suggestions are so preposterous that they usually end up working.”

“Sir, with respect, you do not seriously consider buying over fifty well-known diamonds from the world’s wealthiest people? That would cost… uh… a lot of money!” Penekal struggled with the concept. “It would amount to millions, and who would be crazy enough to spend that much money for such a fantastical conquest?”

“David Purdue,” Prof. Imru beamed. “Master Penekal, can you come back here in twenty-four hours, please?” he implored. “I might just know how we can help your order battle this Magician.”

“You do?” Penekal gasped, elated.

Prof. Imru laughed. “I cannot promise anything, but I know a lawless billionaire with no respect for authority and a lot of zest for troubling powerful and evil people. And as luck would have it, he owes me and is on his way to the African continent as we speak.”