C. Palov - Templar's Quest

As they’d earlier rehearsed, Kate took charge of the digital recorder. She rolled her free hand several times to let him know that she’d started the recording.

‘Ah, Sergeant McGuire. Guten tag. We were hoping that you would call,’ a male voice said in heavily accented English.

‘Are you Ivo Uhlemann?’

‘I am Doctor Ivo Uhlemann. And may I offer my condolences for the loss of your two comrades?’

‘No, you may not,’ Finn tersely informed the polite bastard. ‘In case you haven’t heard, you can’t take the pee out of the pool. That said, a few days ago I spoke to one of your compradres, a dude by the name of Fabius Jutier. Unfortunately, the conversation dead-ended on me.’

‘I trust this conversation will have a more satisfactory ending,’ Uhlemann replied, refusing to comment on Jutier’s suicide. ‘In exchange for the Montségur Medallion, we’ve put together an offer that I think you will find most interesting.’

Finn decided to play along. ‘Okay. What are you putting on the table?’

‘We are offering you a place at the table. Yesterday, we were greatly impressed with your skills … We believe that you would make an excellent addition to our organization.’

49

Seven Research Foundation Headquarters, Paris

1113 hours

‘And will you issue me a Nazi uniform?’ Finnegan McGuire taunted. ‘Or better yet, can I get one of those cool Black Sun tattoos on my left pec?’

Deeply offended, Ivo Uhlemann glared at the telephone console. Sitting at the head of the brushed-metal conference table, he involuntarily placed his right hand over his heart. In 1940, the head of the SS, Heinrich Himmler, had decreed that each member of the Seven must be tattooed with the Black Sun emblem. At first, all seven men were horrified. However, as the years passed, the tattoo came to symbolize their undying dedication to finding the Lapis Exillis. To honour that commitment, their progeny bore the same tattoo.

‘The Seven Research Foundation is a consortium of enlightened scholars and scientists,’ Ivo replied, curbing his annoyance. ‘Given your background, we would like to make you our Chief Security Officer. In addition to the yearly five-million-dollar salary, you will be provided with a furnished two-bedroom flat in the sixth arrondisement and a BMW E60.’

‘A Beemer. Nice.’

Taking the truncated reply as a positive sign, Ivo continued. ‘If you join our ranks, we will ensure that all murder charges against you are dropped. Your good name and reputation will be restored. Honour will be satisfied.’

‘Then you don’t know the meaning of that word,’ the American retorted snidely. ‘I can’t think of anything more dishonourable than allowing that bitch, the Dark Angel, to get away with two brutal murders.’

As Ivo considered his reply, he glanced at the other board members seated around the table. Originally comprised of nineteen members, disease, old age and, in the case of Fabius Jutier, an unfortunate suicide, had reduced their number to ten. As the Chairman, he was their designated spokesman.

‘We are well aware, Sergeant McGuire, that you expect us to turn over the Dark Angel in exchange for the Montségur Medallion. Unfortunately, that point is non-negotiable.’

‘Then there’s nothing for us to discuss. I mean, hell, why should I throw in my lot with the group who ordered the murders of Corporal Lamar Dixon and Corporal John Kelleher?’

‘Because, in addition to the generous compensation package, we are offering you an opportunity to join an elite foundation that is engaged in history-altering research.’

The sales pitch met with a lengthy silence.

Ivo saw the uneasy glances. They needed Sergeant McGuire’s cooperation. Das Groß Versuch could not be performed without the requisite component. Which they could not locate without the encoded map engraved on the Montségur Medallion. They’d just laid an enticing trap. To lure their quarry into the open, the American’s greed had to trump his distorted sense of honour.

‘Okay, Ivo, I gotta be honest … your offer is damn tempting,’ McGuire said at last. ‘I need to think on it a while.’

‘How much time do you require?’

‘You’ll have my answer no later than midnight tonight. In addition to the allotted time, a cease-fire will be in effect while I ponder my decision. If, during the cease-fire, I catch sight of Goldilocks or the bald-headed dude, I will destroy the Montségur Medallion. Unless I’m mistaken, gold melts at two thousand and twelve degrees Fahrenheit.’

‘Please give me a moment, Sergeant McGuire. I must confer with my colleagues.’ Ivo reached across the table and pushed the MUTE button on the console.

There was no mistaking the palpable tension around the conference table as the other nine members stared expectantly at him.

‘The matter is now open for discussion,’ he announced.

Matilda Zimmerman, former Director of the Linguistics Department at the University of Heidelberg, was the first to speak. ‘Would the American actually destroy the medallion?’

‘Sergeant McGuire does not strike me as a man who makes idle threats,’ Ivo replied. His assessment caused several in the group to nod vigorously. ‘However, the offer that we tendered to him is generous to an extreme.’

‘What if he doesn’t accept our offer?’ Otto Fassbinder enquired anxiously. A retired editor-in-chief of the Journal of the German Geological Society , his field of expertise was the effect of crystal geodes on telluric energy currents.

‘The Americans are the most avaricious people on the planet. As they themselves are fond of saying, “Every man has his price.” ’ Ivo opened the manila folder that he’d brought to the meeting. ‘We are also monitoring Cædmon Aisquith’s movements as a back-up contingency.’

‘Why don’t we just capture the Englishman?’ This from Wilhelm Koch, an American who owned a successful maths-based engineering firm in California’s Silicon Valley.

‘Because there’s a slim possibility that he might actually find the Lapis Exillis. ’ Ivo stared contemplatively at the dossier that he’d received yesterday from his contact at the Ministry of Defence. A recently retired MI5 intelligence officer, Aisquith had an academic background in Egyptology and medieval studies. A unique skills set, to say the least, which was the reason why he’d sent one of his best men to the Languedoc to shadow the Englishman. According to the latest update, Aisquith had left Montségur an hour ago.

‘I will give you two minutes to further discuss the matter. Then we will put it to a vote.’

Slowly rising to his feet, Ivo suffered an intense burst of pain. He required more analgesic, the time span between injections becoming of increasingly short duration.

Having already decided how he would cast his vote, Ivo walked over to the plate-glass window on the other side of the conference room. From his vantage point, he could see the Grande Arche reflected in the gaudy mirrored office building directly opposite, the open cube being at the western terminus of the Axe Historique. And just as the Grande Arche owed its existence to the Seven Research Foundation, the Axe Historique owed its existence to the mighty Knights Templar.

At the onset of the fourteenth century, the Templars were poised to become the most technologically advanced force in medieval Europe. In addition to their expansive property holdings, their large fleet of ships and their battle-ready army of warrior-monks, the Templars were a financial powerhouse. For those reasons alone, they gave many European monarchs fitful sleep. But one monarch in particular, the French king Philippe le Bel, had more reason than most to fear the Templars. In the summer of 1306, Philippe had begged asylum at the Templars’ Paris headquarters during a bout of civil unrest. An impolite guest, Philippe spent his time snooping through the Templars’ extensive library. Which is how he discovered the Templars’ secret blueprint for the city of Paris. Although he couldn’t comprehend the science behind the design, Philippe astutely realized that the Knights Templar possessed ancient knowledge that could be used to conquer the monarchy. Perhaps the whole of Europe.