The Lost Crown of the Knights Templar

26 Collision Course for the Temple Mount

When Purdue woke alone, he found that his new lover had never come to bed. In the warm afternoon glow of Jerusalem, she sat listlessly sipping her tea. The Countess looked as beautiful as ever, but her facial expression was that of a jilted bride: livid and frustrated.

“You never slept, my dear?” he asked carefully, knowing the extent of her temper. He had the scratch marks to prove it. The side of Purdue’s face was decorated with a thin red line, running clear from his temple to his jaw, making it very painful to shave that morning. She hadn’t spoken a word since her outburst at not finding the relic.

By what she’d ranted about during her tirade, Purdue gathered that she was on sort of schedule to procure the crown she so coveted. However, with the state she was in, he’d elected not to ask why. This morning, though, she seemed a little more accessible. After Purdue had a shower and groomed himself, he walked barefoot to his stunning lover with his white hair still wet. His white shirt, delivered that morning by the dry cleaning service, felt light and crisp against his skin as it flapped about his sides. It was immaculately ironed, just the way his own housekeeper did it. Leaving the buttons undone for the sake of the heat, Purdue poured himself some tea, glancing rapidly at the Countess to ascertain her mood.

“I’ve been in contact with an old friend of mine, my dear,” Purdue told her, trying to ease her into the upcoming meeting with Sam. He thought it would cheer her up to know that help was on the way to look for her precious crown. “He’s bringing a friend and they’re going to assist in the search.”

“What good will it do?” she pouted like a child. “It’s not where it was supposed to be. Obviously it was stolen by some son of a bitch who doesn’t even know how invaluable it is!”

“These people have been on most of my expeditions with me, love, with great success too! I couldn’t have collected half the religious artefacts I have in my collection without them,” Purdue admitted. “Trust me, if anyone can help us, it’s them.” He sat down next to her, running his fingers through her hair. “We will find your crown.”

She shot him a hateful look. “You had better, David, or else our contract is worthless.”

Purdue had almost forgotten about the contract. It had dwindled in significance since he’d started spending time with her, and besides, money was never one of his foremost concerns — ever. He just wanted her to be happy. “Never mind the contract, my dearest. I’m just curious about what the rush is. If it had been buried for so long, what does it matter when we locate it?”

The Countess scowled, looking decidedly furious. “Because I need it. Soon. I need it before my associates discover its existence, David. Not that it’s any of your business.”

“So this is not for a collection, or for your own gain?” he asked.

The room phone rang. Countess Baldwin’s dark eyes were ablaze with unrest and upset as she glared at Purdue. Like fire against a shield of ice, his cold blue eyes absorbed her fiery rage and calmed her fury. “We will get your crown soon. I promise.”

He picked up the phone and smiled. “Thank you very much. Tell them we shall meet them in the dining room shortly.” He hung up the phone and looked like a little boy excited by Christmas morning. “They’re here. Hurry, love. Get ready so that we can go and look for your crown.”

Her face lightened somewhat. Purdue could see a bit of relief loosen her shoulders before she rose to get dressed. Unlike most women Purdue had known, Countess Baldwin took mere minutes to get dressed, do her make-up, and arrange her luggage to be ready for departure.

“Ready,” she smiled. Purdue was elated at her cheer, and they went downstairs to meet Sam, Father Harper, and Jan Harris in the opulent dining hall. From a distance, Sam could see them coming. Purdue looked well. He had put on some weight since his near death ordeal in the oubliette of the Nazi mother a few months before. Even his snowy hair looked thicker and his skin healthy. Sam looked at Father Harper. The priest was clearly of the same opinion as Sam. He smiled, “The man has recovered pretty well, hasn’t he?”

“Aye,” Sam said, smiling as he watched his friend chat with his new obsession. The two were heavily engaged in a light-hearted conversation, stopping briefly to say hello to some other guests they had encountered the day before. Sam’s smile dropped from his face like a snakeskin shed. His skin went ashen and his breathing uneven.

“Hey, Cleave, what’s wrong?” Harris asked him, placing her hand on his shoulder. Father Harper knew Sam not to be squeamish or easily influenced to look this shocked. “Sam?” he said, looking concerned for the journalist. “Sam, what’s the matter?”

“Jesus Christ! Jesus Chr—,” Sam murmured, his brow wet with sweat.

“What?” Harris probed.

Sam swallowed hard, his eyes stiff in their sockets as he watched Purdue and Countess Baldwin at a distance. “It’s Toshana! Sweet Jesus, Purdue has Toshana?”

“Oh my God,” Harris quietly exclaimed, drawing her camera to shoot.

“No,” Father Harper commanded, gently taking the camera from Jan Harris. “Do not let on that you’re a reporter. If Sam is right, and that is Toshana, the Militum would want to know where she is and she knows it. Cameras would spook her.”

“Aye,” Sam whispered carefully, still staring ahead, “and so will I. She can’t see me or she will run. Remember, if she sent those people to kill me at the hospital she might think I’m dead and out of the way.”

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Father Harper asked. “Look, Purdue told her we are coming to help look for the crown. If we bow out now, she’ll know something is afoot.”

“But she cannot see me, you understand,” Sam reasoned, blinking profusely as his mind formulated a thousand possibilities and solutions. “Harris!”

“Yes?”

“Can you contact Ayer? Tell him we have Toshana,” Sam told her.

“Um, what?” the annoying media vulture asked, making it clear by her body language that she was not in favor of Sam’s idea. “You’re just going to give her up and then they can kill us all.”

Father Harper listened, but he said nothing. Purdue and Toshana made their way toward the threesome. The priest was giving them a welcoming smile, while the other two were in heated debate.

“Listen to me,” Sam seethed, “for once! Let him know we have her. Tell them to come to Jerusalem, but don’t let them know where we are before they bring Nina and have her speak to us on the phone, savvy?”

“Oh God, Cleave,” she quivered.

“Just do it, for Christ’s sake!” Sam ordered, violently grabbing Harris by both arms and bending her over. As loud as he could, he shouted, “Just hold on, Harris! I’ll help you get to the restroom. Please, just don’t throw up here, okay? Come. Come, I’ll help you.” And with that, he swiftly ushered the bent over woman out of the dining hall as quickly as he could, just as Toshana and Purdue reached the priest.

“Father Harper,” Purdue smiled. “So good to see you again!”

“You as well, my friend,” the big man in his black cassock smiled as he shook Purdue’s hand, locking his other hand over. “I must say you look amazing. Since I last saw you you’ve actually reversed your aging, it seems.”

“You’re too kind, Father,” Purdue said. “Let me introduce you to my lovely companion, the Countess Baldwin, Toshana.”

Father Harper held his poise very well, leaving no indication that he knew who she was. However, Toshana was very reluctant to shake hands with the priest.

“This is the man who saved my life a year ago, Father Harper,” Purdue told his lady. To keep up her charade, Toshana quickly shook Father Harper’s hand and let go promptly. Purdue found her behavior bewildering, as if touching the priest repulsed her.

“Lovely to meet you, Countess Baldwin,” Father Harper said, feeling sick to his stomach at her presence. Both of them played their roles convincingly for the sake of Purdue.

“Where’s Sam, Father?” Purdue asked. “And who is the lady? I thought Nina would be here?”

The priest thought it best no to share too much information about Nina, or about the Militum members and what he and Sam had discussed before leaving Oban. Toshana made him cringe, and he was not about to spill the whole lot in front of her.

“Nina unfortunately couldn’t make it. She is… tied up… in something, but I’m sure we’ll be seeing her soon,” Father Harper told Purdue. “The lady with us is a friend of Sam’s. From work. She’s been feeling a bit under the weather.”

“Who is Nina?” Toshana asked.

“The historian I usually hire to join us on excursions, my dear. She would have been such a help during this search,” he told his new lover amicably. He tried to make Nina sound like nothing more than a colleague, but inside he was very unhappy that she hadn’t made it. The things that Sam had reported to him on the Skype session simply did not occur to him, even though he had heard them perfectly.

Father Harper could see Purdue’s inner turmoil. It reminded him of a battered spouse siding with their attacker, even while they were in peril and sorrow. The billionaire was trapped in the thrall of the striking woman, willing to appease her at all costs. But somewhere in his eyes, the priest could see the man’s common sense struggling to comprehend his own actions.

Jan Harris came walking across the dining hall, wiping the corners of her mouth gracefully. Father Harper introduced her formally, but she refrained from shaking hands and simply nodded. “Pleased to make your acquaintance,” she said, her eyes resting a beat too long on Toshana’s beauty.

So this is the hussy we’re all going to get killed over, she thought to herself as she scrutinized Toshana’s features.

“Where is Sam, Miss Harris?” Purdue asked. “I haven’t seen the lad for months and now he pulls a disappearing act.”

“Um, he did ask me to apologize on his behalf, but he said he’ll join us at the Temple Mount later,” she told everyone, keeping her tone docile and oblivious. Toshana, however, couldn’t take her eyes off Harris. She stared at the professional looking woman without reservation.

“Do I know you?” she asked Harris.

Father Harper’s heart skipped a beat.

“I don’t think so,” Harris smiled falsely. “If we’d ever met, I know I would have remember you, ma’am.”

“Oh, call me Toshana, Janet. I’m not one of your elders, am I?” Toshana smiled, but her friendliness was cold and affected, leaving the reporter dumbstruck. Only people who watched her on television news knew her as Janet. Toshana looked at Father Harper. “So, why are we going back to the Temple Mount, Father Harper? I think David has been quite clear that the object we seek is not there.” She smirked condescendingly, mocking the priest, “Unless you wish to eat the soil of your god’s broken house.”

An old reflex of the priest’s bolted through his body, one from when he used to be one of the Militum sect. It was a need to grab the bitch and throttle her until her breath abandoned her lungs, making her limp and cold. But he was not to react like that anymore. Now he was required to allow the lashes of the devil and not to lose his composure in the face of evil’s ridicule.

“Had you done your research correctly, madam, you may have learned that the crown was hidden there by a Second World War chaplain,” he retorted with a soft tone that was deadly serious, “and that his daughter was the only person who knew of its removal. It is her we have to find to locate the crown, of course, and that clue lies inside the premises, where only I know to look. Only those who buy their way to divinity will bite the dust of the Templars’ tracks.”