The Last Templar

Chapter 11

C live Edmondson was pale, but he didn't seem to be in too much pain, which surprised Tess as she watched him lying there in his hospital bed.

She knew that one of the horses had backed into him, driving him to the floor, and, in the ensuing panic, he'd had three ribs broken. Their location was too close to the lungs for comfort, and, given Clive's age, his general health, and his fondness for strenuous activities, the doctors at the New York-Presbyterian Hospital had decided to keep him under observation for a few days.

"They've got me on a really nice cocktail of stuff," he told her, glancing up at the IV pouch that was dangling from its stand. "I can't feel a thing."

"Not exactly the kind of cocktail you were going for, was it?" she quipped.

"I've had better."

As he chuckled, she looked at him, wondering whether or not to bring up the more pressing reason for her visit. "You up to talking about something?"

"Sure. As long as it doesn't involve going over what happened yet again. That's all everyone around here wants to hear about," he sighed. "Understandable, I guess, but ..."

"Well, it's . . . related," Tess admitted sheepishly.

Clive looked at her and smiled. "What's on your mind?"

Tess hesitated, then decided to dive in. "When we were chatting at the museum, did you happen to notice what I was looking at?"

He shook his head. "No."

"It was a machine, some kind of box with buttons and levers coming out of it. The catalog calls it a multigeared rotor encoder."

His forehead creased in thought for a moment. "No, I didn't notice it." Of course, he wouldn't have.

Not with her there. "Why?"

"One of the horsemen took it. He didn't take anything else."

"So?"

"So don't you think it's strange? That of all the priceless stuff that was there, he only took that contraption. And not only that, but when he grabbed it, it was like it was part of some ritual for him, he seemed totally consumed by the moment."

"Okay, well, he's obviously a really keen collector of arcane encoding machines. Get Interpol on the horn. The Enigma box is probably next on his list." He cast her a wry look. "People collect worse things."

"I'm serious," she protested. "He even said something. When he held it up. ' Veritas vos liberabit? "

Clive looked at her. ""Veritas vos liberabit"

"I think so. I'm pretty sure that was it."

Clive thought about it for a moment, then smiled. "Okay. You don't just have yourself a hard-core collector of coding machines. You've got one that went to Johns Hopkins. That ought to narrow down the search."

"Johns Hopkins?"

"Yep."

"What are you talking about?" She was utterly lost.

"It's the university's motto. Veritas vos liberabit. The truth will set you free. Trust me, I ought to know. I went there. It's even in that awful song of ours, you know, 'The Johns Hopkins Ode.' " He started singing: "Let knowledge grow from more to more, and scholars versed in deepest lore . . ."

Clive was watching Tess, enjoying her bewildered look.

"You think . . . ?" Then she noticed his look. She knew that self-satisfied grin. "You're messing with me, aren't you?"

Clive nodded guiltily. "Well, it's either that or he's a disgruntled ex-CIA agent. You do know it's the first thing you see when you step into their building at Langley." Heading off her question, he added, "Tom Clancy. Major fan, what can I say."

Tess shook her head, annoyed at being so gullible. Then Clive surprised her.

"You're not far off, though. It fits."

"What do you mean?" She noted that Clive's face was now serious.

"What were the knights wearing?"

"What do you mean, what were they wearing?"

"I asked you first."

She wasn't with him. "They were in standard-issue medieval outfits. Wire mesh, mantles, helmets."

"And . . . ?" he teased. "Anything more specific?"

She knew Clive was baiting her. She tried to recall the terrifying sight of the knights rampaging in the museum. "No . . . ?"

"White mandes with red crosses. Blood-red crosses."

She grimaced, still not with him. "Crusaders."

Clive wasn't done yet. "Getting warmer. Come on, Tess. Nothing special about their crosses? A red cross on the left shoulder, another on the chest? Anything?"

And it hit her. "Templars."

"Final answer?"

Her mind was racing. It still didn't explain the significance. "You're absolutely right, they were dressed as Templars. But mat doesn't necessarily mean anything. It's the generic Crusader look, isn't it? For all we know, they just copied the first image of a Crusader knight they happened to come across, and the odds are it would be a Templar. They've got the most coverage."

"I thought so too. I didn't attach any significance to it at first. The Templars are by far the most famous, or rather infamous, group of knights associated with the Crusades. But then, your little Latin catch-phrase . . . that changes things."

Tess stared at Clive, desperate to know what he was talking about. He stayed quiet. It was driving her nuts. ". . . Because—V."

" Veritas vos liberabit, remember? It also happens to be a marking on a casde in the Languedoc in the south of France." He paused. "A Templar castle."