Templar's Quest

49

Seven Research Foundation Headquarters, Paris

1113 hours

‘And will you issue me a Nazi uniform?’ Finnegan McGuire taunted. ‘Or better yet, can I get one of those cool Black Sun tattoos on my left pec?’

Deeply offended, Ivo Uhlemann glared at the telephone console. Sitting at the head of the brushed-metal conference table, he involuntarily placed his right hand over his heart. In 1940, the head of the SS, Heinrich Himmler, had decreed that each member of the Seven must be tattooed with the Black Sun emblem. At first, all seven men were horrified. However, as the years passed, the tattoo came to symbolize their undying dedication to finding the Lapis Exillis. To honour that commitment, their progeny bore the same tattoo.

‘The Seven Research Foundation is a consortium of enlightened scholars and scientists,’ Ivo replied, curbing his annoyance. ‘Given your background, we would like to make you our Chief Security Officer. In addition to the yearly five-million-dollar salary, you will be provided with a furnished two-bedroom flat in the sixth arrondisement and a BMW E60.’

‘A Beemer. Nice.’

Taking the truncated reply as a positive sign, Ivo continued. ‘If you join our ranks, we will ensure that all murder charges against you are dropped. Your good name and reputation will be restored. Honour will be satisfied.’

‘Then you don’t know the meaning of that word,’ the American retorted snidely. ‘I can’t think of anything more dishonourable than allowing that bitch, the Dark Angel, to get away with two brutal murders.’

As Ivo considered his reply, he glanced at the other board members seated around the table. Originally comprised of nineteen members, disease, old age and, in the case of Fabius Jutier, an unfortunate suicide, had reduced their number to ten. As the Chairman, he was their designated spokesman.

‘We are well aware, Sergeant McGuire, that you expect us to turn over the Dark Angel in exchange for the Montségur Medallion. Unfortunately, that point is non-negotiable.’

‘Then there’s nothing for us to discuss. I mean, hell, why should I throw in my lot with the group who ordered the murders of Corporal Lamar Dixon and Corporal John Kelleher?’

‘Because, in addition to the generous compensation package, we are offering you an opportunity to join an elite foundation that is engaged in history-altering research.’

The sales pitch met with a lengthy silence.

Ivo saw the uneasy glances. They needed Sergeant McGuire’s cooperation. Das Groß Versuch could not be performed without the requisite component. Which they could not locate without the encoded map engraved on the Montségur Medallion. They’d just laid an enticing trap. To lure their quarry into the open, the American’s greed had to trump his distorted sense of honour.

‘Okay, Ivo, I gotta be honest … your offer is damn tempting,’ McGuire said at last. ‘I need to think on it a while.’

‘How much time do you require?’

‘You’ll have my answer no later than midnight tonight. In addition to the allotted time, a cease-fire will be in effect while I ponder my decision. If, during the cease-fire, I catch sight of Goldilocks or the bald-headed dude, I will destroy the Montségur Medallion. Unless I’m mistaken, gold melts at two thousand and twelve degrees Fahrenheit.’

‘Please give me a moment, Sergeant McGuire. I must confer with my colleagues.’ Ivo reached across the table and pushed the MUTE button on the console.

There was no mistaking the palpable tension around the conference table as the other nine members stared expectantly at him.

‘The matter is now open for discussion,’ he announced.

Matilda Zimmerman, former Director of the Linguistics Department at the University of Heidelberg, was the first to speak. ‘Would the American actually destroy the medallion?’

‘Sergeant McGuire does not strike me as a man who makes idle threats,’ Ivo replied. His assessment caused several in the group to nod vigorously. ‘However, the offer that we tendered to him is generous to an extreme.’

‘What if he doesn’t accept our offer?’ Otto Fassbinder enquired anxiously. A retired editor-in-chief of the Journal of the German Geological Society, his field of expertise was the effect of crystal geodes on telluric energy currents.

‘The Americans are the most avaricious people on the planet. As they themselves are fond of saying, “Every man has his price.” ’ Ivo opened the manila folder that he’d brought to the meeting. ‘We are also monitoring Cædmon Aisquith’s movements as a back-up contingency.’

‘Why don’t we just capture the Englishman?’ This from Wilhelm Koch, an American who owned a successful maths-based engineering firm in California’s Silicon Valley.

‘Because there’s a slim possibility that he might actually find the Lapis Exillis.’ Ivo stared contemplatively at the dossier that he’d received yesterday from his contact at the Ministry of Defence. A recently retired MI5 intelligence officer, Aisquith had an academic background in Egyptology and medieval studies. A unique skills set, to say the least, which was the reason why he’d sent one of his best men to the Languedoc to shadow the Englishman. According to the latest update, Aisquith had left Montségur an hour ago.

‘I will give you two minutes to further discuss the matter. Then we will put it to a vote.’

Slowly rising to his feet, Ivo suffered an intense burst of pain. He required more analgesic, the time span between injections becoming of increasingly short duration.

Having already decided how he would cast his vote, Ivo walked over to the plate-glass window on the other side of the conference room. From his vantage point, he could see the Grande Arche reflected in the gaudy mirrored office building directly opposite, the open cube being at the western terminus of the Axe Historique. And just as the Grande Arche owed its existence to the Seven Research Foundation, the Axe Historique owed its existence to the mighty Knights Templar.

At the onset of the fourteenth century, the Templars were poised to become the most technologically advanced force in medieval Europe. In addition to their expansive property holdings, their large fleet of ships and their battle-ready army of warrior-monks, the Templars were a financial powerhouse. For those reasons alone, they gave many European monarchs fitful sleep. But one monarch in particular, the French king Philippe le Bel, had more reason than most to fear the Templars. In the summer of 1306, Philippe had begged asylum at the Templars’ Paris headquarters during a bout of civil unrest. An impolite guest, Philippe spent his time snooping through the Templars’ extensive library. Which is how he discovered the Templars’ secret blueprint for the city of Paris. Although he couldn’t comprehend the science behind the design, Philippe astutely realized that the Knights Templar possessed ancient knowledge that could be used to conquer the monarchy. Perhaps the whole of Europe.

It left the French king with no choice but to destroy the mighty order of warrior-monks.

To the consternation of later monarchs, Philippe le Bel was not entirely successful. While the Knights Templar were destroyed, their blueprint survived intact, passed down from one secret society to the next. The Rosicrucians, the Freemasons, Cagliostro’s Egyptian Rite – just a few of the groups that endeavoured to complete the ley line in the hopes that they might be the ones to find the Lapis Exillis.

Acutely aware that time was running out, Ivo stared at the reflected cube. In two days’ time, Sirius would rise with the sun. Because the Vril force could only be gener ated during the heliacal rising of Sirius, when the astral energy of that star was at its peak, das Groß Versuch could only be performed on that one specific day.

According to his doctors, he didn’t have another year to wait until the next heliacal rising.

‘We’re ready to vote,’ Professor Zimmerman announced.

Returning to the conference table, Ivo said, ‘All those in favour of granting a temporary cease-fire, please raise your hand.’

Although there was obvious reluctance etched on to two or three faces, all of the board members, including Ivo, raised their right hand.

Decision reached, Ivo pressed the SPEAKER button on the telephone console. ‘We agree to your terms, Sergeant McGuire. A cease-fire is in effect until midnight.’

‘Smart chess move,’ McGuire said brusquely before disconnecting the call.

‘Now what?’

Ivo glanced at Professor Zimmerman. ‘As Finnegan McGuire adroitly remarked, it is a chess match. Our trap has been laid and I am confident that it will end in checkmate.’

At which point, Sergeant McGuire will lose the game, the Montségur Medallion and his life.