King's Crusade (Seventeen) (24 page)

‘Okay,’ said Schmidt with a skeptical nod after a short silence. ‘History lesson aside, what’s the code, Sherlock?’

‘There are three distinct symbols in the coats of arms on these doors that we need to press in a predefined order to get inside the vault,’ said Jackson, bright eyes scanning the burnished surfaces. ‘Help me find them.’

Carrington stared at the convoluted network of motifs before them. ‘There are at least a hundred replicas of these coats of arms on here!’ he blurted out.

‘There are ninety-nine to be exact,’ said the Harvard professor. ‘Trust me,’ he added in a self-assured tone, ‘three of them will be different.’

Yonten found the first symbol. On a shield near the far upper corner of the right door, the robed man was without his robe. Alexa spotted an extra golden lion on the border of another shield on the top outer edge of the left door.

They searched in vain for the third symbol.

An irritated growl escaped Jackson’s throat. He twisted on his heels, strode toward the stairs, and turned back to face the doors.

‘Two Lodges,’ he muttered to himself, glaring at the steel panels as he walked to and fro. ‘The Square and the Compasses. Four sides to the Square and the Compasses. Two…four…three—’ He suddenly stopped pacing.

Alexa felt a strange shiver run through her at the expression on his face. He had the code.

The Harvard professor’s eyes shifted to where she and Yonten stood in front of the shields they had each identified. His gaze dropped to the bottom of the doors. ‘It’s a chevron,’ he whispered hoarsely. ‘A V-shaped code.’

She looked at the monk with a faint frown. Yonten shrugged.

‘The castle,’ said Schmidt suddenly, his eyes focusing on where Jackson was staring.

The Crovir Hunter moved to touch a coat of arms near the foot of the right door. The compass on it was ever so slightly skewed and seemed to be pointing at one of three castles.

‘Wait!’ shouted Jackson, rushing forward. ‘There’s a fourth symbol!’

Schmidt’s fingers froze millimeters from the polished steel. ‘You said there were three,’ he said accusingly.

‘I was wrong.’ Jackson pointed at the missing joint on the pair of compasses in a blazon at the top of the left door.

‘What makes you think you’re right this time?’ argued the Crovir Hunter.

‘I’m never wrong twice,’ Jackson retorted confidently. ‘Besides, the pattern needs to be symmetrical.’

Alexa felt a headache throb at her temples. She could feel the underlying current of machismo running between the two men. She resisted the urge to reach for one of her Sigs.

‘So what order do we touch them in, genius?’ said Schmidt challengingly.

‘Give me a minute,’ said Jackson in a distracted voice.

‘You’ve already had several of those,’ muttered the Crovir Hunter. ‘What?’ he added defensively when Alexa shot him a cold stare.

Features locked in concentration, Jackson paid no heed to his words. A tiny gasp suddenly passed his lips, and a grin flashed across his face. ‘Okay, I’m first,’ he said excitedly. ‘Schmidt, you’re second. Alexa and Yonten, you’re last.’ He looked at the monk and her intently. ‘The two of you have to touch the symbols at the exact same moment.’

Alexa glanced at Yonten. The monk smiled beatifically.

‘You sure about this?’ asked Schmidt with a scowl.

‘Yes,’ said Jackson. ‘Now, on the count of three. One.’ He pressed the missing hinge of the compasses. ‘Two.’

Schmidt pushed his fingers against the castle.

‘And three,’ breathed Jackson.

Alexa and Yonten depressed the last two symbols.

For a second, nothing happened. Then, the four symbols flashed to green and retracted almost half a foot inside the doors. They stood back as a series of bolts audibly engaged inside the steel panels. The vault doors finally slid aside with a low, pneumatic hiss.

Spotlights sprang into life beyond the three-feet-thick threshold and bathed the interior of the chamber beyond in white brilliance. They stepped forward cautiously and stopped just inside the entrance.

The room was a perfect oval and measured roughly twenty by twenty-five feet. Dozens of manuscripts, faded scrolls, and parchments lay in display cabinets arranged in a circle around the periphery of a marble floor. Bookcases punctuated the gaps between them, while the walls themselves were occupied with glittering artifacts in secured glass frames and stands.

The air inside was cool and dry. Alexa suspected the environment had been artificially engineered to preserve the priceless contents within. She could see no passive infrared sensors on the walls; the Freemasons obviously felt the coded steel doors would be enough to deter any intruders who ever managed to make it this far.

She felt Jackson suddenly stiffen at her side. She glanced at him and saw his blue eyes widen and his face blanch. A spasm of alarm darted through her and she tensed as she followed his unmoving gaze.

On the back wall of the chamber, diametrically opposite the steel access doors, stood a tall plinth hewn out of bare rock. The thick marble had been cleverly cut around the base to preserve the original foundation of the stand. Sitting atop it was a glass case. A thick tablet made of sparkling green stone was propped on metal supports inside. Carved into its surface were complex words that glittered in the light.

‘My God! The
Tabula Smaragdina
,’ whispered Jackson. He crossed the floor slowly and stopped before the stand, his eyes gleaming in the reflection of the light cast off the glass case and the shimmering artifact within.

‘The—what now?’ asked Carrington.

‘The Emerald Tablet,’ the Harvard professor translated hoarsely.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, Alexa recognized his words. She raised her eyebrows slightly. ‘Isn’t that one of the artifacts said to be behind the
Magnus Opus
?’

Schmidt startled at her words. He stared at the tablet. ‘The Philosopher’s Stone,’ he said in a low voice.

Carrington raised a hand. ‘Sorry but, what’s the
Magnus Opus
?’

‘It’s the alchemical terminology for the four-stage process used to create the Philosopher’s Stone,’ said Jackson. He glanced at Schmidt briefly before focusing on the tablet under the glass. ‘This must be what the
Rose Croix
sect was after. It would explain the
Mutus Liber
connection. Both those documents were said to have been used for the
Magnus
Opus
.’

‘The Philosopher’s Stone?’ repeated Carrington.

‘Yes,’ said Jackson. ‘The Elixir of Life.’

‘That’s just a myth, isn’t it?’ asked Carrington. No one seemed to want to answer his question.

Alexa joined Jackson. ‘Can you translate it?’ she said.

The Harvard professor hesitated. ‘Given time and access to a specialist lab, yes, possibly,’ he finally replied.

She studied the shimmering words on the green stone. The text was compact and the writing strongly resembled the Sumerian-derived scripts from the walls of scrolls in the cave in Egypt. ‘We have to take it with us,’ she stated firmly.

Jackson drew a breath in sharply. ‘You want to
steal
the Emerald Tablet?’

Alexa shrugged. ‘Do you have a better suggestion?’

‘Even though I shouldn’t be saying this, I would rather the tablet end up in the possession of the Crovirs than this
Rose Croix
sect,’ said Schmidt. ‘Immortals have a better chance of guarding it than the Freemasons.’

Jackson looked between Schmidt and her. Alexa knew she had won the battle even before he sighed and muttered, ‘All right. Just be goddamned careful with it.’

Her fingers got to within an inch of the glass case before Carrington called out a warning. ‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’ said the Crovir.

Alexa turned and looked at him with a frown.

‘Although there are no infrared motion detectors in the room, that display case has its own security system,’ said Carrington as he approached the plinth. ‘The tablet is mounted on a pressure and vibration sensitive plate.’ This statement earned him a battery of stares. ‘I used to be a thief in a former life. Before I started working for Reznak, obviously,’ he added hastily at her expression. ‘I’ve kinda kept up with the new technology.’

She glanced at the artifact. ‘How can you be certain of this?’

Carrington shrugged. ‘It’s the most valuable item in the place. The Freemasons are not fools.’

She shifted impatiently. ‘What do you suggest we do?’

‘First, we need to lift the case off,’ said Carrington.

He grabbed the edges of the glass box on one side and looked at Jackson. The Harvard professor joined him and placed his hands on the opposite end. Together, they slowly lifted the case off the plinth.

No alarms broke the silence inside the chamber. They released a collective sigh of relief.

Carrington placed the box on the marble floor and studied the tablet. ‘Now we need to find something of the same weight and size to stabilize the plate.’

Alexa glanced around the vault. Her gaze fell on a cabinet on the wall to the right. She strode toward it, broke the glass with her elbow, and removed the heavy clock inside. ‘Will this do?’ she asked, staring down their shocked expressions.

Yonten smiled from where he stood looking at the contents of a bookcase.

A sigh left Jackson’s lips. ‘That display case could have been alarmed, you know.’

‘It wasn’t,’ she said dismissively.

Carrington muttered something under his breath and took the clock from her. He weighed it thoughtfully in his hands while he stared at the tablet. ‘This will do,’ he finally said gruffly. He turned to Jackson. ‘Our timing needs to be perfect on this.’

The Harvard professor nodded and wiped his sweaty hands on his jeans. His fingers shook slightly as he reached for the tablet. He flexed them once, took a deep breath, and started again. His grip was steady when he finally touched the green stone.

‘On three,’ said Carrington. A bead of sweat rolled down the Crovir’s face as he held the clock a millimeter from the edge of the plate.

Jackson nodded, his gaze not moving from the artifact in his hands. Alexa tensed.

‘One…two…three!’ said Carrington. Jackson slid the tablet off the base at the same time that Carrington shifted the clock onto it.

Everyone’s breathing resumed in the stillness that followed. The Harvard professor stared wide-eyed at the precious artifact in his grasp. Alexa could see the passionate emotion it engendered reflected in his cobalt gaze. Something twisted inside her chest, startling her.

‘Well, that seemed to do the trick,’ said Carrington with a relieved expression. He wiped sweat from his brow. ‘Now, let’s get the hell out of—’

The boom of an explosion somewhere above rocked the foundations of the building. The clock shifted on the pressure plate. Carrington’s eyes widened in horror.

Before he could reach out to stop it, the clock tilted forward and smashed onto the marble floor. A piercing alarm tore through the underground vault as small springs and coils cartwheeled around them.

‘Oh shit,’ said the Crovir.

Chapter Twenty

T
he steel doors rumbled into
life on the other side of the chamber. They raced for the closing exit.

Jackson stumbled several feet from the opening, the tablet held firmly in his arms. A snarl of irritation left Alexa’s lips. She grabbed the artifact from his grasp and pushed him toward the doorway. He darted through with a couple of feet to spare on either side and skidded around to watch her in wide-eyed horror. She gritted her teeth.

She was not going to make it.

From the other side of the doors, Yonten threw his jō staff into the closing gap.

Alexa clasped the tablet to her chest, dropped on her side, and slid under the weapon as it bowed and shattered above her, slowing the steel panels by a mere fraction of a second. She felt the whisper of air from the closing portal on the back of her head as she slipped through the exit.

She glided to a stop in front of Jackson, sprang to her feet, and dropped the stone tablet in his hands.

‘Don’t let go of it,’ she instructed curtly before handing him her bag.

He nodded, his expression hardening. He placed the artifact inside the backpack and slung it on his shoulders.

Red emergency lights guided their path to the stairs that led to the Grand Temple. Further explosions sounded in the distance above them. The slab of stone hiding the secret opening retracted with a ponderous groan seconds before they reached it. Schmidt went through first, Beretta in hand. Alexa drew the Sigs and followed a heartbeat behind him.

A cloud of smoke and plaster dust accompanied three Freemason sentries as they staggered through a door on the left. Tears streamed down their faces and they coughed and gasped hoarsely. More guards poured into the galleries above. Some of the men had bleeding wounds on their heads and hands. Their angry shouts punctuated the shrill alarm blasting through the building.

The Freemasons’ attention remained focused on the double doors that guarded the entrance to their Grand Temple.

Alexa stared at the thick bronze panels; they had buckled under the force of a significant impact. Chunks of plaster and brick littered the polished floor inside the chamber. A second later, the doors swung open in a gray billow of smoke. A squad of twenty black-clad men fitted with gas masks, machine guns, and pistols stormed inside the room.

‘Looks like you were right about that sect,’ said Schmidt grimly, glancing at Alexa.

Carrington looked pointedly at Yonten. ‘I thought you said everything would be all right,’ he said accusingly. The monk shrugged, the cryptic smile back on his lips.

One of the guards finally noticed their presence near the ceremonial chair. He shouted a warning to his comrades. Confusion dawned on the faces of the sentries as they stared from the small group by the gilded frame to the armed strangers marching across the floor of the temple.