Templar's Quest

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.