Steve Berry - The Templar legacy

"And Lars thought that treasure was in Rennes-le-Chateau?" he asked.

"Not necessarily there, but somewhere in the Languedoc," Henrik said. "There are enough clues to warrant that conclusion. But the Templars made finding its location difficult."

"So what does the book you bought tonight have to do with this?" Malone asked.

"Eugene Stublein was the mayor of Fa, a village close to Rennes. He was highly educated, a musician, and an amateur astronomer. He first penned a travel book about the region, then wrote Pierres Gravees du Languedoc. Inscribed Stones of the Languedoc. An unusual volume that depicts gravestones in and around Rennes. A strange interest, granted, but not uncommon-the south of France is noted for unique tombs. In the book is a sketch of a headstone that caught Stublein's eye. That drawing is important because the tombstone no longer exists."

"Could I see what you're talking about?" Malone asked.

Thorvaldsen pushed himself up from the chair and lumbered over to a server table. He came back with the book from the auction. "Delivered an hour ago."

Malone parted the binding to a marked page and studied the drawing.

"Assuming Stublein's sketch is accurate, Lars believed the gravestone was a clue that pointed the way to the treasure. Lars searched for that book for many years. One should be in Paris, as the Bibliotheque Nationale maintains a copy of every printing in France. But, though one is cataloged, no copy is there."

"Was Lars the only one who knew about this book?" Malone asked.

"I have no idea. Most believe the book does not exist."

"Where was this one found?"

"I spoke with the auction. A railway engineer who built the line from Carcassonne south to the Pyrenees owned it. The engineer retired in 1927 and died in 1946. The book was among his daughter's possessions when she recently died. The grandson placed it for auction. The engineer had been interested in the Languedoc, especially Rennes, and kept an inventory of tombstone rubbings himself."

Malone wasn't satisfied with his explanation. "So who alerted Stephanie to the auction?"

"Now, that is the question of the night," Thorvaldsen said.

Malone faced Stephanie. "Back at the hotel, you said a note came with the journal. You have it?"

She reached into her bag and retrieved a tattered leather notebook. Tucked within its pages was a folded sheet of taupe-colored paper. She handed the paper to Malone and he read the French.

On the 22nd of June in Roskilde a copy of Pierres Gravees du Languedoc will be offered at auction. Your husband searched for this volume. Here is an opportunity for you to succeed where he failed. Le bon Dieu soit loue.

Malone silently translated the last line. God be praised. He gazed across the table at Stephanie. "Where did you think this note came from?"

"One of Lars's associates. I just thought one of his cronies wanted me to have the journal and thought I'd be interested in the book."

"After eleven years?"

"I agree, it seems odd. But three weeks ago I thought little about it. Like I said before, I always believed Lars's quests were harmless."

"So why did you come?" Thorvaldsen asked.

"As you say, Henrik, I have regrets."

"And I do not want to aggravate those. I don't know you, but I did know Lars. He was a good man and his quest was, as you say, harmless. But it was nonetheless important. His death saddened me. I always questioned whether it was suicide."

"So did I," she said in a whisper. "I tried to place blame everywhere to rationalize it, but in my gut I never accepted that Lars killed himself."

"Which explains, more than anything, why you're here," Henrik said.

Malone could tell she was uncomfortable, so he offered her emotions a way out. "Let me see the journal?"

She handed him the book and he thumbed through the hundred or so pages, seeing lots of numbers, sketches, symbols, and pages of handwritten text. He then examined the binding with a bibliophile's trained eye and something caught his attention. "Pages are missing."

"What do you mean?"

He showed her the top edge. "Look here. See those tiny spaces." He parted the binding to one. Only a sliver of the original paper remained where it had once adhered to the binding. "Slit with a razor. I watch for this all the time. Nothing destroys the value of a book like missing pages." He restudied the top and bottom and determined that eight pages were gone.

"I never noticed," she said.

"A lot slipped by you."

A hectic flush came to her face. "I'm willing to concede that I screwed up."

"Cotton," Thorvaldsen said, "this whole endeavor could mean much more. The Templar archives could well be part of any find. The Order's original archives were kept in Jerusalem, then moved to Acre, and finally to Cyprus. History says that after 1312 the archives passed to the Knights Hospitallers, but there's no proof that ever occurred. From 1307 to 1314 Philip IV searched for the archives, but he found nothing. Many say that reserve was one of the medieval world's greatest collections. Imagine what locating those writings would mean."

"Could be the greatest book find ever made."

"Manuscripts no one has seen since the fourteenth century, many surely unknown to us. The prospect of finding such a cache, however remote, is worth exploring."

Malone agreed.

Thorvaldsen turned to Stephanie. "How about a truce? For Lars. I'm sure your agency works with many 'persons of interest' to achieve a mutually beneficial goal. How about we do that here?"

"I want to see those letters between you and Lars."

He nodded. "You may have them."

Stephanie's gaze caught his. "You're right, Cotton, I do need some help. I'm sorry about my tone earlier. I thought I could do this on my own. But since we're all asshole buddies now, let's you and I go to France and see what's in Lars's house. I haven't been there in some time. There's also a few people in Rennes-le-Chateau we can talk with. People who worked with Lars. Then we'll go from there."

"Your shadows might come, too," he said.

She smiled. "Lucky for me I have you."

"I'd like to come," Thorvaldsen said.

Malone was surprised. Henrik rarely traveled from Denmark. "And the purpose of you gracing us with your company?"

"I know a bit about what Lars sought. That knowledge might prove useful."

He shrugged. "Fine by me."

"Okay, Henrik," Stephanie said. "It'll give us time to come to know one another. Apparently, as you say, I have some things to learn."

"As do we all, Stephanie. As do we all."

DE ROQUEFORT FOUGHT TO RESTRAIN HIMSELF. HIS SUSPICIONS were now confirmed. Stephanie Nelle was on the trail that her husband had blazed. She also was the custodian of her husband's notebook, along with a copy of Pierres Gravees du Languedoc, perhaps the only copy still in existence. That was the thing about Lars Nelle. He'd been good. Too good. And now his widow owned his clues. He'd made a mistake trusting Peter Hansen. But at the time, the approach seemed the right one. He would not make that mistake again. Too much was riding on the outcome to trust any aspect to another stranger.

He continued to listen as they finalized what to do once in Rennes-le-Chateau. Malone and Stephanie would travel there tomorrow. Thorvaldsen would come in a few days. When he'd heard enough, de Roquefort freed the microphone from the window and withdrew with his two associates to the safety of a thick stand of trees.

There'd be no more killing tonight.

Pages are missing.

He would need that missing information from Lars Nelle's journal. The sender of the notebook had been smart. Dividing the spoils prevented rash acts. Clearly, there was more to this intricate puzzle than he knew-and he was playing catch-up.

But no matter. Once all of the players were in France, he could easily deal with them.