C. Palov - Templar's Code

She and Rubin had now been together longer than most spouses stay married.

Admittedly there were times—usually when she saw a couple like Peter Willoughby-Jones and Edie Miller who, if not bound for happily ever after, were on track for a few good years—that she regretted the path not taken. She’d never married. She had no children. Had never even owned a dog.

From Blitz kid to woman of a certain age. Proverbial blink.

“You mustn’t brood. It’s not allowed,” she chastised.

Hearing the shop bell merrily tinkle, Marnie yanked off her reading glasses, stowing them in the desk drawer. Her movements well practiced, she stood up and smoothed a hand over her chin-length blond bob. She then checked her Jil Sander sheath for any stray pieces of lint, Rubin’s bit of flash ready to take the stage.

The customer stood at a bookcase, his back to her. She quickly sized him up. Hugo Boss jacket. Black leather messenger bag. John Varvatos calfskin boots. Not their typical customer.

“Good afternoon. Just browsing or are you looking for something specific?”

He slowly turned in her direction. “I’m looking for a volume of love poems.”

My God, he’s beautiful. Like a young Johnny Depp. And that accent. To die for.

“Perhaps you should try the public library,” she retorted. Uncharacteristically snippy, she suspected it had something to do with the fact that she was old enough to be the beautiful young man’s mother.

And that realization incited a tumult, the kind she hadn’t experienced since childhood, suddenly hit with a burst of gut-twisting insecurity. Twenty years ago she would have taken great delight in making this beautiful young man beg for her phone number. On your knees, boy. Proverbial blink.

The beautiful man took several steps in her direction. He came to a standstill less than an arm’s span from where she stood. Blatantly invading her personal space.

He winsomely smiled. “I’m too transparent, I fear.” “Absolutely see-through.” Even as she said it, Marnie wondered at his game. He’d just transmitted a sonar-strength vibe wrapped in a come-hither smile. But why?

Could it be that he was one of those men who actually preferred older women?

At that thought, she felt a small dribble of confidence.

“You do know that you’re an angel.”

“Ah, yes. ‘May she grow in Heavenly light,’ ” Marnie flippantly replied.

His smile broadened. “You took the words right out of my mouth.”

“I very much doubt that .” Particularly given the fact that she’d quoted the Cheltenham school motto.

“Dine with me this evening.” He stepped even closer. “Please.”

Marnie finally deigned to return the smile, her confidence fully restored.

“Perhaps.”

CHAPTER 46

“Now that I have plied you with strong spirits, perhaps you will reveal the true purpose of this delightful but unexpected visit.”

“Right.” Cocktail glass in hand, Caedmon strolled over to the window. Peering down at Cecil Court, he sighted a few late-afternoon shoppers browsing at the book carts. All quiet on the western front. “Do you happen to have a laptop computer handy?” he asked over his shoulder.

If Rubin was surprised by the request, he gave no indication, wordlessly trudging to the court cupboard in the foyer. From where he stood at the window, Caedmon could hear a cabinet door squeak on its hinge. A few moments later, Rubin returned with a computer in tow. Shoving several volumes aside, he made room for it on the bed.

“I assume you want me to boot up?”

“If you would be so kind.” Deciding to plow right into it, Caedmon said, “In the year 1307 the Knights Templar, fleeing the auto-da-fé, sailed to the undiscovered New World where they established a colony in Arcadia, Rhode Island.”

Rubin derisively snorted. “An utterly outlandish claim.”

“Nullius in verba . ” As he spoke, Caedmon tugged at the silver signet that he wore on his right ring finger.

About to take a sip of her martini, Edie, instead, lowered her cocktail glass. “Translation please. The only Latin I know is the pig variety.”

“Take no one’s word,” he obligingly translated. “Or, put another way, seeing is believing.” Caedmon walked over to where their host now held court in his outrageously carved Tudor chair. Hit with a childish impulse, he dropped the signet ring into Rubin’s cocktail glass. “ That was found buried at the Templar colony in Rhode Island.”

His brows drawn together in an annoyed frown, Rubin fished the bauble out of his cocktail glass. Bringing the ring up to his face, he carefully examined it. A moment later, the frown reworked itself into an awestruck expression. “There’s an inscription that I can’t quite make out.” He peered over the top of his round tortoiseshell glasses as he brought the ring closer to his face.

“Testis sum agnitio,” Caedmon informed him. “In addition to the signet ring, a number of other artifacts were uncovered at the site, including several gold coins that predate the auto-da-fé.”

At hearing that, Rubin gasped aloud, nearly dropping the ring back into his cocktail glass. “And where are these gold coins and other—”

“Safely secured,” Caedmon interjected. Before leaving the States, he’d taken the precaution of renting a long-term airport locker, not about to risk losing the valuable artifacts to a London pickpocket. “The archaeological evidence strongly suggests that sometime in the early sixteenth century, a massacre took place, the colony completely destroyed by the Knights of Malta. After carefully sifting through the evidence, the two of us”—he pointedly glanced at Edie, indicating that she was very much a full and equal partner in the venture—“came to the conclusion that the Templars had constructed a hidden vault a few miles from the settlement site.”

“My God! Did the two of you actually find this vault?”

“We did. However I must inform you that the archaeologist who provided us with the necessary research was murdered.”

Rubin’s brows noticeably lifted. “Not exactly a disclosure for the weak-kneed. Fortunately, I’m made of sterner stuff. You’ve issued your warning, Peter, pray continue.”

“Very well.” Reaching into his trouser pocket, Caedmon removed a computer memory chip. He handed his full martini glass to Rubin before walking over to the laptop computer on the bed. “I should clarify at the onset that while we did find the Templar vault, it was empty,” he stated, not wanting to raise false hopes. He pulled up the first of the digital photos that Edie had taken inside the Templar sanctuary.

Both Edie and Rubin joined him at the four-poster bed.

Holding a martini glass in each hand, Rubin leaned over the mattress to view the photos. “This is stunning. Truly magnificent. The plot has indeed thickened.” Raising the martini in his right hand, he completely drained it. “These photos are absolutely—” He stopped in midstream. Long moments passed as he intently stared at the digital photo of the Enochian message written by Walter Ralegh. “ ’Tis the handwriting on the wall.’ ”

“Or, in this case, the floor,” Edie quipped. “We deciphered the message to read ‘Ralegh took the Templar relic to swine’s court.’ ”

“And while we can’t be completely certain, we believe the relic in question is some sort of sacred stone.”

Rubin raised the full glass in his left hand and quaffed it down in three swallows. A few moments passed before he muttered, “That bastard Ralegh actually found the Templar vault.”