Templar's Quest

44

‘Jesus H!’ Finn’s shoulders jack-knifed off the back of the chair. ‘You are off your freakin’ English rocker if you think you can find the Holy Grail!’

‘Thank you for that resounding vote of confidence,’ Aisquith deadpanned, unfazed by the criticism.

‘Finding the Grail is like putting toothpaste back in the tube. It ain’t gonna happen. And didn’t you see the movie? Indiana Jones already beat you to it,’ Finn taunted, beginning to think the Brit needed to be knocked on the head with a 2 x 4. Drastic? Maybe. But he didn’t know what else besides a wood kiss would knock sense into the guy.

‘Do you have any idea what these people are capable of?’ Folding his arms over his chest, Aisquith patronizingly looked down his nose. Like he was the school master and Finn the class dunce.

‘They butchered two good buddies of mine, so, yeah, I think I know what I’m up against.’ Raising the beer can to his lips, Finn polished it off.

‘And before that, they butchered as many as seventeen million innocent people.’

‘Cædmon, have you really thought this through?’ Kate enquired in concern, having remained silent up to this point. Probably in a state of shock. ‘The Seven Research Foundation could easily target you.’

‘If memory serves correctly, they already have.’ He glanced down at the spot on his chest where he’d almost taken a bullet to the heart. ‘Although not to worry. I’m well armed. Fortis est veritas.’

Kate smiled wistfully; the phrase obviously meaning something to her. ‘And just as truth is strength, scientia potentia est.’

‘Knowledge is power,’ Aisquith replied.

‘Hey, excuse me. I didn’t get to go to Awxford. I got my education at Boot Camp U. So, can we all stick to English?’

‘Very well. Here is a fact that requires no translation: the Ahnenerbe was obsessed with finding the Holy Grail. Their descendents seem no less fanatical. While I don’t know the foundation’s reason for coveting the relic, I’m certain that it pertains to the Axe Historique and the creation of the Vril force.’ Doing a fair imitation of a traffic cop, Aisquith held up his right hand. ‘And please spare me the stale refrain about flying saucers and Nazi ray guns.’

‘Fine,’ Finn muttered, having been two seconds shy of throwing a zinger. ‘But do you actually expect me to believe that a bunch of Nazi descendants are planning a comeback? There’s nothing left of the Third Reich. My great-uncle Seamus and all the other men who kicked Nazi ass sixty some years ago saw to that.’ Point made, he reached for another beer.

‘And my grandfather, who was a prosecuting attorney at the Nuremberg trials, was appalled that the high-ranking members of the Nazi Party considered themselves avatars, gods in the making. Indeed, he said on more than one occasion that it was impossible to reason with them. It’s naive to think that the evil was completely eradicated at war’s end. We must assume that the Ahnenerbe’s spawn have been indoctrinated in this dark belief system.’

Finn lifted a disinterested shoulder. ‘That was then, this is now.’

‘Is it?’ For several long seconds Aisquith stared at him, grim-faced. ‘Many of the same global crises that gave rise to National Socialism in the 1930s again threaten to cripple world governments. This is a movement that thrives on despair and discontent. Pick up any newspaper; there’s plenty of that to go around.’

‘As a cultural anthropologist, I can attest to the fact that Western Europe and America are both in the midst of a social upheaval,’ Kate remarked, throwing in her lot with Aisquith. ‘Xenophobia and religious intolerance are rampant and could easily reach a dangerous tipping point. It’s happened before. It could happen again.’ Lips slightly quivering, her voice dropped to a husky whisper. ‘Although a proud American citizen, my grandfather was forcibly imprisoned in a Japanese internment camp.’

Jesus. I had no idea. Finn stared at his beer can, wanting to give comfort, but uncertain how to act on the impulse.

‘Lest we forget,’ Aisquith said consolingly, reaching across the desk to squeeze Kate’s hand. Then, his voice more strident, ‘My aim is to destroy the enemy’s arsenal. And, yes, I believe that the Vril force, if harnessed, could be used as a weapon. Had Nazi physicists been successful in their quest to weaponize the Vril, there would have been a far different outcome to the Second World War.’

‘Hey, I can’t get bogged down by something that didn’t happen. If it doesn’t relate to my mission op tomorrow at the Grande Arche, I’m not interested.’ Beer can in hand, Finn jabbed it in Aisquith’s direction. ‘And don’t get any funny ideas in your head about borrowing the medallion. That sucker is the only bargaining chip I have to get the Dark Angel.’

‘A digital photo of the Montségur Medallion will suffice. If you would be so kind.’

‘Whatever.’ Unzipping his Go Bag, Finn extracted the medallion and handed it over, figuring it was the quickest way to get rid of the other man.

The Brit wasted no time whipping out his BlackBerry, Kate getting up from her chair to play photographer’s assistant. Annoyed that they kept making goo-goo eyes at each other, Finn stood up and walked over to the French doors, almost stumbling on the bed’s footboard en route. The damned thing was enormous and, try as he might, there was no escaping it.

Opening the set of doors, he purposefully turned his back on the king-size mattress with the silky royal blue spread. While women needed a reason to have sex, men just needed a place. A bed. The back of a truck. A concrete floor. Didn’t much matter. Although the floor was probably where he’d end up spending the night while Kate, sacked out on that huge mattress, dreamed about the Scarlet Pimpernel.

In a foul mood, Finn scanned the streetscape below, on the look-out for unfriendlies, cops or the Dark Angel, his enemies fast mounting. Aisquith had assured him that the hotel was secure, but his trust only went so far. Which was the reason why he had the floor plan for all five storeys of the hotel committed to memory and had checked out all of the exits before making his beer run.

Ignoring the murmured conversation taking place behind him, Finn watched as a grey Peugeot taxi sped down Rue de la Verrerie like it was in a Formula One time test. Not seeing anything suspicious, he closed the doors.

Still fuming, he headed back to the desk. Standing side-by-side, Aisquith and Kate were staring intently at the digital photos that they’d just taken of the medallion.

‘Do you think the encoded map is contained within the pictorial symbols or the inscription?’ Kate asked.

‘The clues to the Grail’s whereabouts could be embedded in the inscriptions as well as the symbols. A two-prong encryption code.’ As he spoke, Aisquith fingered the rim of the medallion. ‘Deciphering an esoteric mystery is akin to finding one’s way through a Georgian maze. You spend hours aimlessly wandering, hitting one dead-end after another, only to find yourself standing at the very spot where you began.’

‘Which begs the question: where are you going to begin the search?’

Not particularly interested in hearing Aisquith’s reply, Finn reseated himself at the desk. Forced to take a back seat, he took a swig of warm beer, wondering if there was anything he could do to get Aisquith out of the door – other than the time-honoured boot to the ass.

‘The legends state that the Cathars smuggled a treasure from their mountaintop citadel at Montségur several days before the fortress fell to the Pope’s army,’ Aisquith pontificated in his snooty Awxford accent. ‘Making Montségur the logical place to begin the hunt. That said … ?’

Finn watched as Aisquith looked expectantly over at Kate. A silent invitation.

One second slipped into the next, Finn’s hand tightening around the beer can.

‘It’s, um, probably best if I stay in Paris.’

Hearing that, the bottom half of him – that being the part between his hips – was relieved that Kate had rejected the Brit. But the top half – the part between his ears – was annoyed as hell. Kate Bauer was a complication. And a physical distraction. He had three irons in the fire. He didn’t need a fourth one scorching his pants.

Aisquith glanced at his watch. ‘I have just enough time to pack a bag and catch a southbound train.’ Turning towards Kate, he cupped her face between his hands and quickly kissed her on the lips.

‘Goodbye, Cædmon and … please be careful,’ Kate whispered, clearly upset by the other man’s imminent departure.

About to take another swig of his beer, Finn glanced at Aisquith. ‘Needle. Haystack,’ he said, summing up the crazy-ass, half-baked quest. ‘That said, good luck, Sir Prancelot. And may the Force be with you.’

Aisquith’s mouth contorted into a snide smile. ‘You do realize, don’t you, that if I find the Grail, your little gold trinket will be utterly worthless?’