The Templar legacy

SIXTY

MALONE WATCHED AS STEPHANIE, MARK, AND CASSIOPEIA CLIMBED down the ladder. Thorvaldsen stayed on the surface, waiting for Geoffrey to return, ready to hand down tools, if needed.

"I meant what I said," Mark made clear. "The Templars were pioneers in booby traps. I've read accounts in the Chronicles of techniques they developed."

"Just keep your eyes open," Malone said. "If we want to find whatever there is to find, we have to look."

"It's after three," Cassiopeia said. "The sun will be gone in two hours. It's cold enough down here as it is. Nightfall will be brisk."

His jacket kept his chest warm, but gloves and thermal socks would be welcomed, which were some of the supplies Geoffrey was obtaining. Only the light spilling in from the ceiling illuminated the passageway that stretched in both directions. Without flashlights, Malone doubted if they'd be able to see a finger touch their nose. "Daylight's not going to matter. It's all artificial light down here. We just need Geoffrey to get back with food and warmer clothes. Henrik," he called out. "Let us know when the good brother returns."

"Safe hunting, Cotton."

His mind swelled with possibilities. "What do you make of this?" he asked the others.

"This could be part of a horreum," Cassiopeia said. "When the Romans ruled this area they established underground storerooms for holding perishable goods. An early version of a refrigerated warehouse. Several have survived. This could have been one."

"And the Templars knew of it?" Stephanie asked.

"They had them, too," Mark said. "They learned from the Romans. What she says makes sense. When de Molay told Gilbert de Blanchefort to take away the treasure of the temple in advance, he could have easily chosen a place like this. Beneath a nondescript church, at a minor abbey, with no connection to the Order."

Malone pointed his flashlight ahead, then turned around and shone the beam in the other direction. "Which way?"

"Good question," Stephanie said.

"You and Mark go that way," he said. "Cassiopeia and I will go the other." He could see that neither Mark nor Stephanie liked that decision. "We don't have time for you two to fight. Put it aside. Do your jobs. That's what you'd tell me, Stephanie."

She didn't argue with him. "He's right. Let's go," she said to Mark.

Malone watched as they dissolved into the blackness.

"Clever, Malone," Cassiopeia whispered. "But do you think it wise to send those two out together? Lots of issues between them."

"Nothing like a little tension to make them appreciate one another."

"That true for me and you, too?"

He aimed his flashlight into her face. "Lead the way and let's find out."

DE ROQUEFORT AND TWELVE BROTHERS APPROACHED THE ANCIENT ruined abbey from the south. They'd avoided the village of St. Agulous and parked their vehicles a kilometer back in the thick woods. They'd then hiked through a landscape of scrub and red rock, steadily rising in altitude. He knew the entire area was a magnet for outdoor enthusiasts. Green slopes and purple crags closed around them, but the path was well marked, perhaps used by the local shepherds to herd sheep, and the route brought them to within a kilometer of the torn walls and piles of debris that had once been a place of devotion.

He stopped the entourage and checked his watch. Nearly four PM. Brother Geoffrey had said that he would return to the site at four. He looked around. The ruins perched on a rocky promontory a hundred meters above. Malone's rental car was parked farther down the slope.

"Into the trees for cover," he ordered. "And everyone stay down."

A few moments later a Land Rover churned its way up the sloping graveled path and stopped by the rental. He saw Geoffrey exit the driver's side and noticed the younger man appraise his surroundings, but de Roquefort did not reveal himself, still not sure if this was a trap.

Geoffrey hesitated at the Land Rover, then opened the rear hatch and removed two boxes. Grasping both, Geoffrey started up the path toward the abbey. De Roquefort waited until he'd passed, then boldly stepped out onto the trail and said, "I've been waiting, brother."

Geoffrey stopped and turned.

A cold pallor engulfed the younger man's pale face. The brother said nothing and simply laid the boxes down, reached beneath his jacket, and brought out a nine-millimeter automatic. De Roquefort recognized the gun. The Austrian-made weapon was one of several brands the abbey's arsenal stocked.

Geoffrey chambered a round. "Then bring your men and let's get this over with."

AN INSUFFERABLE TENSION FLUSHED EVERY THOUGHT FROM Malone's mind. He was following Cassiopeia as they inched their way through the underground passage. The path was about six feet wide and eight feet tall, the walls dry and jagged. Fifteen feet of hard earth lay between him and the surface. Tight confines were not his favorite places. Cassiopeia, though, appeared fortified with nerve. He'd seen her kind of courage before in agents who worked best under extreme pressure.

He was alert for more traps, paying careful attention to the gravel ahead of them. He'd always found it amusing in adventure movies when moving parts made of stone and metal, supposedly hundreds or thousands of years old, still functioned as if they'd been greased yesterday. Iron and stone were vulnerable to air and water, their effectiveness limited. But bronze was a different matter. That metal was enduring, which was precisely why it had been created. So more pointed stakes at the bottom of deep holes could be a problem.

Cassiopeia stopped, her light focused ten feet ahead.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Take a look."

He added his beam to hers and saw it.

STEPHANIE HATED ENCLOSED SPACES, BUT SHE WAS NOT ABOUT TO voice that concern, especially to her son, who thought little enough of her. So to take her mind off her uncomfortableness she asked, "How would the knights have stored their treasure down here?"

"Carried in a piece at a time. Nothing would have stopped them, short of capture or death."

"That would have taken some effort."

"All they had was time."

They were both intent on the ground ahead of them as Mark gently tested the surface before each step.

"Their precautions would not have been sophisticated," Mark said. "But they would have been effective. The Order possessed vaults all over Europe. Most they guarded, along with rigging traps. Here, secretion itself and a few traps had to do the job without guards. The last thing they would have wanted was to draw attention to this place by having knights around."

"Your father would have loved this." She had to say it.

"I know."

Her light caught something ahead on the passage wall. She grabbed hold of Mark's shoulder and stopped him. "Look."

Carved into the rock were letters.