C. Palov - Templar's Quest

With a blank expression on his doughy face, Dolf stared, uncomprehending. A man of plebeian tastes, he ate sausage by the pound and sauerkraut by the crock.

Suddenly annoyed, Ivo waved the chauffeur on his way.

Clucking his tongue, he signalled to Wolfgang that he was ready to continue the stroll through the Tuileries. Attentive, as always, the Schnauzer walked sedately beside him. While Ivo wouldn’t go so far as to claim that the beast was his best friend, the little salt-and-pepper dog had been a loyal and uncomplaining companion for the last twelve years.

Several minutes later, energy flagging, he sat down in one of the vacant chairs located near the model boat pond. Snapping his fingers, Ivo motioned Wolfgang to the shady spot beneath the metal chair. The pain in his abdomen severe, he took several slow deep breaths. As he did, he noticed the nearby statue of La Misére by Jean-Baptiste Hugues, a monumental nude whose limbs and torso were entwined with a constricting serpent. Ivo thought it cruelly apropos.

How the gods must be laughing.

Adjusting his panama hat to better shade his face, Ivo glanced around the pond, appalled at seeing scores of young people chattering on their phones or jabbing their thumbs across ridiculously small keypads. True narcissists, they were busily engaged in disseminating the petty details of their lives. To anyone and everyone.

Twenty years ago, these same youths would have each had their nose in a book. But, sadly, they’d had the capacity for wonder bred out of them. In its stead was a collective ennui that demanded an endless stream of mindless stimulation. While able-bodied, these loafers had no higher purpose. If they continued in this vein, they would not be able to meaningfully contribute to society. Once that happened, it would be difficult to justify their existence.

Determined to create a better world, Ivo knew that it was simply a matter of purging the horde. Certainly, there were capable and competent individuals. But too often they were held back by those of lesser intelligence. For years now, the imbeciles had been convinced by well-meaning do-gooders that their answer mattered. Their opinion counted. And, exacerbating the situation, the digital age had empowered these cretins, reinforcing the great deceit. The fact that the imbeciles reproduced at an alarmingly fast rate was a grave concern. Eventually, their escalating birthrates would enable them to conquer Europe without ever firing a single bullet.

Because that was a very real danger, those who did not meet requisite IQ standards must be sterilized. While the do-gooders would decry it as a drastic measure, Ivo contended that it was nothing less than scientifically controlled evolution aimed at improving the collective gene pool. A social theory that originated in the late nineteenth- and early twentieth-century, eugenics had been championed by such luminaries as Henry Ford, Theodore Roosevelt and Linus Pauling. Their opponents claimed that the criteria for determining a ‘defect’ was too subjective. Again, he would argue that a standardized IQ test was an objective measure.

And who among them would dare claim that ignorance was a virtue?

In point of fact, low intelligence had been scientifically linked to a host of medical and social defects such as morbidity, schizophrenia, criminal behaviour, sexual deviance and dementia. The evidence was glaringly clear: individuals with a low IQ were destined to become a burden to society. This could not, and would not, be tolerated. Through selective breeding, the dangerous trend towards mediocrity could be reverted, creating a nation of exceptional citizens.

A humane man, he’d always favoured eugenics rather than extermination. Which is why the Seven Research Foundation had spent years formulating a Universal Intelligence Quotient Policy, consulting with a wide range of experts that included social scientists, geneticists, neurologists and psychologists. Several standardized tests had been designed to measure both intelligence and aptitude. These tests would be administered to every man, woman and child, the results stored in a central data bank. Additionally, all citizens would be implanted with a microchip that not only indicated their IQ test scores, but pertinent medical and genetic screening data. Those who refused to take the IQ test would be summarily sterilized. To enforce the policy, the police would have broad authority to use a hand-held digital scanner which would quickly determine if a citizen was microchipped.

Those with an IQ less than 100 would be sent to a Eugenics Centre where they would be sterilized before being assigned to a Work Detention Programme.

The last thing that anyone wanted was another holocaust; a disastrous policy that cost the Third Reich its true place in history. Besides, he had nothing against the Jews and admired a good many of them. An enlightened plan, the Universal IQ Policy would create a society of Übermensch , Supermen, fit of body and mind, who would populate their glorious new Reich.

Hearing a sudden childish peal of laughter, Ivo glanced at the shallow pond. A colourful regatta of toy yachts gracefully bobbed and weaved on the glistening surface. A charming sight, it put a smile on his face.

With good reason, this was his favourite spot in the park. From where he sat, he could see the Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel to the east and the Obelisk at Place de la Concorde to the west. Both monuments were part of an elaborate blueprint originally devised by the Knights Templar that could unlock the entire scientific mystery of the universe.

Provided they find the Lapis Exillis.

‘And we will find it,’ Ivo rasped, not about to let Finnegan McGuire – or any man for that matter – stand in his way.

32

‘… but, of course, the trick is to maintain that power once it’s been seized,’ Cædmon Aisquith continued, having just dropped a bombshell about Freemasons controlling the world. ‘That said, I should preface my next remarks by saying that I’m about to go out on a limb –’

‘Buddy, you’ve been hanging from a twig since we got here,’ Finn muttered under his breath.

‘– but I believe the Axe Historique in Paris was constructed so that some unknown group could harness the astral energy that emanates from Sirius at the heliacal rising and fuse it to the telluric energy that emanates directly beneath the axis.’

A thoughtful expression on her face, Kate took a moment to digest Aisquith’s assertion. ‘When you say “telluric” energy, you’re referring to the earth energy that moves underground along the Earth’s crust and mantle, right?’

Aisquith smiled fondly at his favourite pupil. ‘Telluric energy is derived from the primary water system that exists inside the Earth as hydrated minerals. It’s considered a geophysical phenomenon which emits radiation and can be enhanced when there are changes in the magnetic field. In fact, telluric energy was used during the nineteenth century as a type of earth battery to power the early telegraph grids. Although little understood, some scientists believe that the power potential of telluric energy is far greater than the electricity we generate above ground.’

‘Begging the question: how do you fuse astral and telluric energy?’

‘By building a ley line.’ Just warming up, Aisquith’s smile broadened. ‘Which is exactly what the ancient engineers constructed at Thebes. And, no coincidence, it’s what their French counterparts have constructed on the Axe Historique.’

Half tempted to tell the Brit to pull the wine cork out of his ass, Finn instead said, ‘ That’s a ley line?’ As he spoke, he jutted his chin at the chaotic scene below, tourists milling around as far as the eye could see.