The Templar Throne

33

Peggy Blackstock, her husband, Rafi, Doc Holliday and Arnie Gallant were fishing with hand lines in the placid waters of Bedford Basin at the inner end of Halifax Harbour. It was a perfect summer day, bright sun shining from a cloudless blue sky. Gallant had provided the dory, obscurely named the Geoffrey G., and an endless stream of local lore, out-and-out fabrications and tall tales and an equally endless monologue on the best method of bait fishing. It was R amp; R for everyone, but especially for Peggy, who'd had a miscarriage, almost certainly brought on by recent events.

"What exactly are we fishing for?" asked Peggy.

"Bull fish and mackerel mostly," said Gallant. "Eels, maybe."

"Gross," said Peggy.

"Can you eat them?" Rafi asked.

"The mackerel, I s'pose," Gallant said and shrugged. "The bull fish if you were desperate. Eels if you like that sort of thing."

"What does bull fish taste like?" Peggy asked.

"Whatever its last meal was," said Gallant.

"What does it eat?" Rafi asked.

"Mostly chaetognatha Sagitta elegans," responded Gallant.

"Elegant spear," said Holliday abstractedly. He was staring thoughtfully at absolutely nothing.

"Pardon?" Peggy said.

"Sagitta elegans. That's what it means when you translate the Latin."

"Arrow worms," said Gallant, jigging his line a little. "They look like hairy horse penises with a big jaw on the end. And they're slimy." He nodded toward the placid water. "There's billions of them down there."

"And we're fishing here?" Peggy said. "Eee- ewe. Gross."

Gallant laughed, then turned to Holliday, who was still staring out across the water. "A penny for them," said the lobsterman.

"Rear Admiral Pulteney Malcolm, Royal Navy."

"And who might he be?"

"Commander of HMS Royal Oak, the ship that delivered Major General John Ross and his troops to the shores of Maryland. In August of 1814. Ross went on to rout the Americans at the Battle of Bladensburg. The Americans lost so badly it allowed Ross and his men to march on Washington and burn it to the ground. He was the first person credited with defeating an entire U.S. Army in the field. A month later he was picked off by a pair of teenage snipers. His body was pickled in a barrel of Jamaican rum and the Royal Oak took him to Halifax. The Royal Oak was probably anchored in Bedford Basin. Somewhere right around here."

"And what would this have to do with the price of lobster then?" asked Gallant. Peggy and Rafi had stopped concentrating on their fishing and were listening closely. Peggy knew Doc well; there was something in the air and it wasn't the smell of fish. Holliday continued the history lesson.

"There was more on board the Royal Oak than Ross's body in a barrel of rum. When he sacked Washington, Ross had three main objectives-the Capitol, the White House and the Treasury. In the treasury they found twenty thousand uncirculated silver dollars and an unknown quantity of ten-dollar gold double eagles."

"So?" Peggy asked.

"While I was doing research in Scotland I accidentally got into a batch of letters from a young midshipman on the Royal Oak named Cameron McLeod. Young Cameron was one of Admiral Malcolm's runners and one of his favorites. In one of the letters home to his mother he mentions that the rear admiral had given him an American gold double eagle as a souvenir of the successful pillaging of Washington. He also mentions the number of gold coins in the hoard on board the Royal Oak. Ten thousand."

"And how much would these little bits of gold be worth on today's market?" Gallant asked shrewdly.

"According to my research," said Holliday, "the silver dollars would go for about four million and the gold for about ten."

"For the lot?" Gallant asked.

"Each," answered Holliday.

"Mary mother of God," muttered Gallant, his eyes filled with an entirely unholy lust.

"Ongeshtopt mit gelt!" Rafi breathed.

"Holy crap!" said Peggy.

"You've got a bite," said Holliday, glancing at Gallant's jerking line.

Katherine Sinclair sat in the damaged study, her life in ruins as well as her house. After the debacle brought down on them by John Holliday and his godless rescuers nothing could be salvaged. The Edwards bitch had launched an all-out attack on Margaret's credibility and the authenticity of her find, and the chances of her son being elected leader faded with each passing day. The position would fall either to Edwards herself or to that idiot preacher Bainbridge.

She picked up the telephone in front of her and dialed Joseph Patchin's private number at the CIA. He answered on the second ring.

"Yes," he said.

"You know who this is?"

"Yes."

"Initiate Ironstone immediately. We have no other choice now."

"I understand," answered Patchin. The line went dead. Katherine Sinclair hung up the phone. There was no turning back now. The United States of America would never be the same again. Read on for a special sneak preview from another thrilling novel by New York Times bestselling author Paul Christopher