C. Palov - Templar's Code

Knowing that their informant referred to the pilfered armillary, Caedmon commiserated with a nod. “Yes, a shame, that. By the by, do you recall the approximate size of the sphere?”

Cocking his head to one side, the older man gave the question a moment’s thought before saying, “It was a big sucker, I remember that. Circumference of maybe fifteen or sixteen feet.”

A copper armillary! He could barely contain his excitement.

Caedmon extended his right hand. “Thank you so much for the fascinating bit of local lore.” You, sir, are a godsend , he thought as he shook the other man’s hand.

The moment the dreadlocked drummer was out of earshot, Edie excitedly turned to him. “Didn’t Rubin tell us that during the Middle Ages Thoth was often depicted with an armillary?”

“He did indeed.” Unbloodybelievable. Thoth the Thrice Great, with a copper armillary held aloft. “A familiar image in the medieval iconography, the armillary was a skeletal sphere comprising concentric bands representing the equator, the ecliptic, parallels, and meridians.”

“And you mentioned that during the Middle Ages, the ankh symbolized copper. So no coincidence that the armillary was fashioned from that same metal.”

Caedmon glanced at the truncated pyramid and white obelisk visible on the horizon. He next gazed at the well-concealed ankh . “They purposefully marked the site with a scientific apparatus. The voice of reason amid an esoteric cacophony.”

“In essence saying, science rules, not the Radiant Light of Aten. From where we’re standing, it looks like the looted armillary was replaced with a large decorative shrub.”

“We must assume that a latter-day Triad oversaw the planting of the gargantuan plant.” A wise move, there being little incentive for anyone to steal a shrub.

“Of course, we’re just speculating about the armillary. It could be that the Emerald Tablet is hidden under the cascading fountain or maybe even in the reflecting pool.”

Hit with inspired thought, Caedmon slapped his hand against the balustrade. “ ‘Biblicil aten stone to gods eye do not err.’ I think I know what it means. The oversized shrub that replaced the armillary is situated in the center of the exedra.” He tapped the schematic drawing of the ankh. “The exedra being the eye of the ankh.”

Edie merrily clapped her hands. “By George, I think he’s got it!”

“We need to go down there and investigate. It’s difficult to ascertain the plant species from this distance. Hemlock or perhaps arborvitae. Can’t be certain.”

Her smile instantly faded. “I know exactly what it is—off-limits. That is a huge shrub or hedge or whatever it is. In case you haven’t noticed, the circumference on that sucker is as large as the armillary it replaced. Probably weighs a ton. What are you planning to do, call a landscaping company to remove it?”

He made no reply, his attention focused on the exedra at the bottom of the hill. The eye of the ankh. A scheme concocted in 1776 and executed in 1926. A plan 150 years in the making. How appropriate that the ancient Egyptian symbol for life would lead them to the sacred relic that reputedly contained the secret of creation.

“If the Emerald Tablet is buried in the middle of the exedra, under that big, bushy shrub, there’s no way we can get to it,” Edie said, reiterating the objection.

He tuned her out.

Visually scanning the area, he saw a cordoned-off area of the lower park that he’d noticed during their prior search. There were several small earth-moving vehicles parked behind a flimsy barricade. He assumed they were being used for a landscaping project. Like steel to a magnet, he zeroed in on the yellow JCB. What the Yanks called a backhoe.

What price the secret of creation?

“Rather steep, I daresay.”

Edie eyed him suspiciously. “What are you talking about?”

Mmmm . . . should be easy enough. No different from hot-wiring an automobile. Detach the ignition switch connector. Red wire. White wire. If all goes well, the engine should turn.

Earlier in the day, en route to the park, they’d stopped by Edie’s house and retrieved her Mini Cooper, the automobile parked on Sixteenth Street. Hopefully, the trunk was well stocked.

“By any chance do you have a tool kit in the Mini?”

“No, I don’t have a tool kit, but I do have a pair of pliers, a lug wrench, and some jumper cables.”

He smiled beseechingly.

“Might I borrow your pliers?”

CHAPTER 78

While she’d dearly love to find the Emerald Tablet, Edie drew the line at grand larceny.

Which is why she stood at the edge of the concrete exedra, arms folded over her chest. Fuming. So angry, she could scream. The only reason she didn’t holler at Caedmon was that it might alert the police to the fact that he just hot-wired a backhoe and was in the process of digging up a gigantic, beautifully manicured shrub. A federal offense given the fact that Meridian Hill was under the jurisdiction of the National Park Service.

Caedmon, exhibiting a dismaying lack of scruples, was working the backhoe controls like a pro. A neat little trick he undoubtedly learned during his tenure at MI5. Never know when you might have to move several tons of dirt.

In the distance, Edie heard the familiar wail of a police siren. A reminder that the big, bad city, and the police who patrolled it, were just outside the garden walls.

“Hopefully, the local constabulary won’t catch us beavering around. Be rather difficult to explain the backhoe.”

“You think? If you hot-wire that backhoe, Caedmon, you will be in violation of God knows how many laws.”

“Needs must.”

“And you need to seriously consider the ramifications of stealing U.S. government property.”

“Quite frankly, Edie, I’m surprised by your reticence. You exercised no remorse at pinching The Book of Moses from Craven House.”

“We didn’t steal it!”

“Didn’t we?”

Spooked, Edie nervously glanced around the Italianate garden. To her consternation, the park was eerily deserted. The perfect place for the denizens of the night to lurk in the shadows. Pulling up the sleeve on her peacoat, she checked the time. They had fifteen, maybe twenty, minutes of daylight left. Like any city park, things could get dicey once the sun set.

From her vantage point, it appeared that Caedmon had dug a hole at least six feet deep. The depth of a burial plot. “Doesn’t the man know the meaning of the word fear?” she muttered. Or was he so fixated on the object of his desire that the obsession eclipsed his fear? “Yes, indeed, Caedmon, you really know how to push the boundaries of a relationship.”

Not for the first time, she wondered if Caedmon was aware of the hold that the Templars had over him. The outlawed order of warrior monks caused his ouster from Oxford. Which, in turn, led to his MI5 recruitment. The chaps at Thames House purposefully seek out disgraced academics. Such men are malleable. But as Caedmon brazenly demonstrated when he hot-wired the backhoe, he was anything but malleable.

The shadows lengthening with each passing minute, Edie made a big to-do of pointing to her watch. Caedmon vehemently shook his head. Refusing to back down, she held up her right hand, fingers splayed wide: Five more minutes! Ultimatum issued. She straightened her shoulders, prepared to put the kibosh on the excavation if Caedmon refused to—

Ohmygod!