The Relic Hunters

CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

If the CIA knew anything at all, it was how to slip into a country quietly. A fact which made Bodie extremely thankful as they plowed through the night clouds on their way to England. Transport out of Bavaria had been tricky at first, but once the team had trekked far enough away from the museum and verified they hadn’t been seen, a chopper picked them up. Heidi was overjoyed they had made it clear.

One step ahead now.

The Illuminati had rarely been on the back foot, Bodie imagined. Speed, purpose and some skill had engineered this lead; now they had to take full advantage.

“So, England,” Cassidy said from a single seat in front of Bodie. “What’s it like?”

The Londoner pursed his lips. “Hard to say. Depends where you go, I guess. London’s got most of the hustle, the glamour, the action, which would suit you. Then further north, lots of countryside and trees, which would suit Gunn—”

The computer tech lifted a middle finger. “I only hug blondes.”

Cassidy pounced on that like a shark chasing a wounded dolphin. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen a blond goat.”

Bodie continued without recognizing the banter. “North east and we have a few seaside resorts. Scarborough, Bridlington and Whitley Bay, that kind of thing. A nice area for the older folk to retire and enjoy the views.” He sent a surreptitious glance over at the snoring Cross. Even Gunn laughed shortly.

“Libraries,” Bodie said. “Plenty of those.”

Jemma made a face at that one. “I wondered how low you’d go.”

“Nothing wrong with a library, Blunt,” Cassidy said. “But you ain’t gonna find a boyfriend there.”

Jemma tried not to squirm. “I don’t know what—”

“Sure you do,” Cassidy turned to stare out the window. “You’re a hot chick over thirty with no meaningful relationships under your belt. Life’s getting away from you, Hales.”

Jemma wasn’t sure how to respond but finally said, “And how old are you now, Cass?”

“Ah, that’s just petty. You know I’m right.”

Bodie knew the two, whilst quietly bickering, were touching on a few smoldering hot spots. Cassidy was undoubtedly age-conscious whilst Jemma struggled to choose and commit to any kind of attachment. He shifted in his seat and made a point of looking over toward Jeff and Heidi, up front.

“Any luck?”

“The Grand Lodge of All England?” Jeff asked. “Yeah, it exists. Since the 1700s. It’s a ‘Mother Lodge’, used to create new lodges and procure new members. Activity there has been infrequent through the centuries, but tends to spark up again every so often, perhaps when the Order needs new blood? Just a guess.”

“And why did our old archaeologist send us first to Bavaria, and now to here?” Jemma asked.

“The map is his guide,” Jeff explained. “It also forms a diary of his travels, his quest to find the Statue of Zeus. Obviously he’s following the clues laid down by the disgruntled Illuminati member he found and clues in history itself. Like Charlemagne, like Olympia itself. The map isn’t fully rounded. Yes, it’s disorganized but he probably didn’t have time to write it up properly. Or chance,” he added. “Maybe he didn’t have chance to do it. Anyway, we have waypoints and footnotes, that’s it.”

“One thing’s for sure though,” Bodie said. “We’re on the right track. The Illuminati know it but the picture we found in Bavaria proves it without any doubt.”

Heidi looked across at him. “My word not good enough?”

Bodie laughed. Cassidy chirped up. “Of course it is. We luuuurve the CIA.”

Heidi sighed. “Have I not been good to you?”

Bodie heard the humor in her voice and laughed again. “Well, you did help me Prison Break style and almost get us killed a couple of times. I guess you can stay.”

“Why, thanks.”

Heidi checked her computer. “All right guys, here it is. We’re an hour out. Once we arrive I’m gonna have to leave you. Something else big has come up, which I can’t avoid.” She gave them a tired, chagrined stare. “CIA politics say I have to take care of it. So this is where you prove your worth. This is where you shine.”

Bodie was surprised to hear she was leaving them alone, but had been initially surprised when she tagged along with the team. At the end of the day though, they were just one of many assets.

“You’re trusting us?” Gunn asked naively.

Heidi tried her best not to embarrass the lad. “We’ll know where you are at all times.”

“Don’t worry,” Bodie said. “After what we’ve seen — after seeing what the Illuminati can do — we’re all in.”

Everyone nodded. Heidi looked satisfied. “Locate the next waypoint,” she said. “Easy as that.”

“Where are we going?” Bodie asked.

“The Grand Lodge of All England,” Jeff said. “Is in Yorkshire. Specifically, in York.”

Gunn looked up. “Really? My aunty lives in York.”

“So you know the place?”

“No. Not really.”

“Okaaay, great input. And a shame. Because the Internet is a wonderful place most of the time, but it has no location for the lodge.”

Bodie ripped open a packet of nuts. “Of course it doesn’t. What do you have?”

“Lodge activity goes back to and beyond 926, when King Athelstan convened a great council there, around the time of the Vikings. York, of course, has a well-known Viking history, which it embraces, right up to the present day. I find the other interesting aspect about all this revolves around the York Legend.” He paused for a drink.

“Which is?” Cassidy prompted impatiently.

“It’s rather long-winded,” Jeff admitted. “But points to facts and proof that York was the birthplace of English masonry, allowing the York lodges to claim precedence over all other lodges.”

“Whoa,” Bodie blinked. “So York is the birthplace of the English Freemasons as well as a convening point for the English Illuminati?”

“For a time,” Jeff said. “Yes.”

“Shit, they kept that quiet.”

Jeff shrugged. “More like, they didn’t shout out about it like they do Vikings. They let it lie quietly. There were — or are — lodges attached to the York Minster and to the Merchants Hall. St. Saviourgate, and a pub in that area. And Stonegate. We have to assume one of these lodges is our objective.”

“That’s too many,” Cassidy said, then said in typical manner: “Anyone we can target?”

“Straight for the jugular, eh?” Heidi nodded. “I like it.”

“Well, the Lord Mayor of York was president back in the eighteenth century,” Jeff said, still scanning the documents he’d found. “But no telling if that tradition changed. Wait, there’s a fair bit about Drake here.”

Gunn looked up. “Drake? Why do I recognize that name?”

“Everyone knows that name,” Jeff muttered. “He’s exclusively associated with England.”

“Okay then.” Gunn plucked at his hair, using the airplane window as a mirror.

“Francis Drake,” Jeff said. “The antiquarian, not the sailor it seems, gave proof that the York Lodge dated back beyond 600.” He paused. “I wonder if we can date any of the buildings in the identified areas. Anyway, Drake was Grand Master. Ah, wait. It tells of the lodge at no. 259 Stonegate as ceasing in 1767, so that one’s out. There’s talk of worship at a church in Coney Street and feasts at the Guildhall.”

Gunn spoke up now. “York Minster dates back to the 7th century,” he said. “In a rudimentary state. A church built in a hurry, then later a stone building, both of which fell into disrepair. Fires and rebuilds plague it right through twelfth century and in the thirteenth it began to take shape right into the fifteenth. I doubt the Minster’s our place.”

“Agreed,” Bodie said. “The Illuminati would have wanted a quiet place, clear of controversy, something that would go unnoticed.”

“York was founded as Eboracum in 71 AD,” Gunn said. “By the Romans. It was the capital of the province of Britannia and of the kingdoms of Northumbria and Jorvik. Occupied by a tribe named the Brigantes, later hounded by the Roman Ninth Legion. They started building York Castle at that time; the focal point of which now lies under the foundations of York Minster. Okay, on to more pertinent matters. Stone buildings were ordered by King Edwin of Northumbria around 630, so we can assume several were built around our target time. Now listen to this.” Gunn’s voice went high with excitement. “Alcuin of York came to a cathedral school of York… a teacher and scholar… first at St Peter’s School founded in 627 AD… Alcuin was also known as Charlemagne’s leading advisor. There’s our link to the statue. Of course in the eighth and ninth centuries York was captured by the Vikings and came under their rule, notably a guy called Eric Bloodaxe. I guess, if the statue came here, it was removed before that.”

“Olympia to Rome to France to Bavaria to York,” Cross muttered, waking up. “This wonder of the world is more traveled than I am.”

“Granddad’s awake,” Cassidy said. “Better put a cup of tea on.”

“I have some of York’s oldest streets, but the Shambles, called England’s most medieval street, only dates back to the fourteenth century. We have to dig deeper.”

The jet crossed the English Channel and started to head up country. Bodie didn’t ask how Heidi and the CIA guaranteed secrecy. He knew they’d never tell, and anything they said in that regard couldn’t be completely trusted. It seemed only minutes had passed before the plane started descending.

“Time to shine,” Heidi repeated. “We’re counting on you now.”