Steve Berry - The Templar legacy

"There's another grille?" Mark asked.

"With another inscription."

She listened as Malone told them what they'd found.

"I agree with you," Mark said. "That skeleton has to be our long-lost marshal." He fished a chain from beneath his shirt. "We all wear the medallion. They're given at induction."

"Apparently," Malone said, "the Templars hedged their bets and separated the cache." He motioned to the floor trap. "And they made it a challenge to find. The marshal should have been more careful." Malone faced Stephanie. "As we all should."

"I understand," she said. "But, as you so often remind me, I'm not a field agent."

He smiled at her sarcasm. "So let's see what's behind that grille."

DE ROQUEFORT AIMED THE SHORT BARREL OF HIS WEAPON DIRECTLY at Henrik Thorvaldsen's furrowed brow. "I'm told you're one of the wealthiest men in Europe."

"And I'm told you're one of the most ambitious prelates in recent memory."

"You shouldn't listen to Mark Nelle."

"I didn't. His father told me."

"His father didn't know me."

"I wouldn't say that. You followed him around enough."

"Which turned out to be a waste of time."

"Did that make it easier for you to kill him?"

"Is that what you think? That I killed Lars Nelle?"

"Him and Ernst Scoville."

"You know nothing, old man."

"I know you're a problem." Thorvaldsen motioned to Geoffrey. "I know he's a traitor to his friend. And his Order."

De Roquefort watched as Geoffrey absorbed the insult, disdain sweeping into the younger man's pale gray eyes, then just as quickly dissipating.

"I'm loyal to my master. That's the oath I took."

"So you betrayed us for your oath?"

"I don't expect you to understand."

"I don't, and never will."

De Roquefort lowered his gun, then gestured for his men. They swarmed into the church and he motioned for silence. A few hand signals and they instantly understood that six were to position themselves outside and the remaining six to encircle the interior.

MALONE STEPPED AROUND THE TRAP STEPHANIE HAD EXPOSED and approached the metal grille. The others followed. He noticed a heart-shaped padlock suspended from a chain. "Brass." He caressed the gate. "But the gate is bronze."

"The padlock and chain have to be from Sauniere's time," Mark said. "Brass was a rare Middle Age commodity. Zinc was needed to make it and that was hard to come by."

"The lock is a c?ur-de-brass," Cassiopeia said. "They were once prevalent all over this region to fasten slave chains."

None of them moved to open the gate and Malone knew why. Another trap could lie in wait.

With his boot, he gently brushed the soil and gravel beneath his feet and tested the earth. Solid. He used his light and examined the gate's exterior. Two bronze hinges supported the right edge. He shone the light through the grille. The corridor beyond right-angled sharply a few feet inside and nothing could be seen past the bend. Great. He tested the chain and lock. "This brass is still strong. We're not going to able to pound it away."

"How about cutting it?" Cassiopeia asked.

"That would work. But with what?"

"The bolt cutters I brought. They're in the tool bag topside, by the generator."

"I'll go get them," Mark said.

The words echoed from inside the hollow altar support and startled de Roquefort. Then he quickly realized that the voice was Mark Nelle's. Thorvaldsen moved to answer, but de Roquefort grabbed the crooked old man and clamped a hand across the mouth before he could utter a sound. He then signaled for one of the brothers, who rushed forward and grabbed the kicking Dane, a new hand sheathing Thorvaldsen's mouth. He pointed and the prisoner was dragged to a far corner of the church.

"Answer him," he mouthed to Geoffrey.

This would be an interesting test of his newfound ally's loyalty.

Geoffrey stuffed his gun between his belt and stepped to the altar. "I'm here."

"You're back. Good. Any problems?"

"None. Bought everything on the list. What's happening down there?"

"We found something, but we need bolt cutters. They're in the tool bag by the generator."

He watched as Geoffrey moved toward the generator and removed a pair of heavy-duty bolt cutters.

What had they found?

Geoffrey tossed the tool down.

"Thanks," Mark Nelle said. "You coming?"

"I'll stay here with Thorvaldsen and keep an eye on things. We don't need any uninvited guests."

"Good idea. Where's Henrik?"

"Unpacking what I bought and getting the camp ready for the night. The sun's nearly gone. I'll go help him."

"You might want to get the generator ready and the power cords unraveled for the light bars. We may need those shortly."

"I'll take care of it."

Geoffrey lingered a moment more then stepped away from the altar and whispered, "He's gone."

De Roquefort knew what had to be done. "Time to take command of this expedition."

MALONE GRIPPED THE BOLT CUTTERS AND WORKED THE TEETH around the brass chain. He then compressed the handles and allowed the spring-action to bite clean through the metal. A snap signaled success and the chain, with hasp, slipped to the ground.

Cassiopeia bent down and retrieved them. "There are museums around the world that would love to have this. I'm sure not many have survived in this condition."

"And we just cut it," Stephanie said.

"There wasn't a whole lot of choice," Malone said. "We're kind of in a hurry." He pointed a flashlight through the grille. "Everybody to the side. I'm going to open this thing slowly. It looks clear, but you never know."

He wedged the bolt cutters into the grille, then stepped to one side, using the rock wall for protection. The hinges were stiff and he had to work the grille back and forth. Finally, the portal opened.

He was just about to lead the way inside when a voice called down from above.

"Mr. Malone. I have Henrik Thorvaldsen. I need for you and your companions to come up. Now. I'll give you one minute, then I'm going to shoot this old man dead."

MALONE WAS THE LAST TO CLIMB UP. WHEN HE STEPPED FROM THE ladder he saw that the church was occupied by six armed men along with de Roquefort. Outside, the sun was gone. Inside was now illuminated from the glow of two small fires, the smoke rushing out into the night through the open window slits.

"Mr. Malone, we finally meet in person," Raymond de Roquefort said. "You handled yourself well in the Roskilde cathedral."

"Glad to know you're a fan."

"How did you find us?" Mark asked.

"Certainly no thanks to that phony journal of your father's, clever though he was. He spoke to the obvious and changed the details just enough to make them worthless. When monsieur Claridon deciphered the cryptogram within it, the message, of course, was of no help. He told us that he concealed the secrets of God. Tell me, since you've been down there, does he conceal those secrets?"

"Never got a chance to find out," Malone said.

"Then we should remedy that. But to answer your question-"

"Geoffrey betrayed us," Thorvaldsen said.

Astonishment clouded Mark's face. "What?"

Malone had already noticed the gun in Geoffrey's hand. "That true?"

"I'm a brother in the Temple, loyal to my master. I did my duty."

"Your duty?" Mark screamed. "You lying son of a bitch." Mark lurched toward Geoffrey, but two brothers blocked the way. Geoffrey stayed rooted. "You led me on this whole thing just so de Roquefort could win? Is that what our master meant to you? He trusted you. I trusted you."

"I knew you were a problem," Cassiopeia declared. "Everything about you signaled trouble."

"And you should know," de Roquefort said, "as that's what you have been to me. Leaving Lars Nelle's journal for me to find in Avignon. You thought that would occupy me for a while. But you see, mademoiselle, the loyalty of our brotherhood takes precedence. So your efforts have all been for naught." De Roquefort faced Malone. "I have six men here, six outside-and they know how to handle themselves. You have no weapons, or so brother Geoffrey has informed me. But to be safe." De Roquefort motioned and one of the men frisked Malone, then moved to the others.