The Cleric's Vault (3 page)

Chapter 4

Las Vegas, Nevada

Sean
was angry with himself, though he couldn’t show it.
 
Maybe he
was
getting sloppy.
 
He stared at the
shadowy figure in the corner of the room.

“Getting
the drop on the great Sean Wyatt is a tricky thing to do.”
 
The voice was feminine.
 
And familiar.

The
lithe silhouette stepped from the shadows near the large window, revealing a
woman in her upper forties.
 
Her
brown hair was cut neatly just below the ears framing a lean, defined face.
 
The brown eyes looked serious as they
peered at him.
 
She wore a gray,
form-fitting dress-suit that looked like it was made strictly for business.
Though, it did accentuate the right spots.

Sean
let out a deep sigh.
 
“Hello,
Emily.”
 
He emptied the contents of
his front pockets onto the dresser while she lowered the gun and returned it to
a concealed place within her suit’s jacket.
 

“Nice
to see you again, Sean.”
 
She
smiled, seeming to relax for a moment.
 

“You’re
lucky I didn’t shoot you,” he said with a casual warning.

“And
you’re lucky I let you quit the agency,” she replied coolly.

“Would
you like something to drink?”

“I
already took the liberty.”
 
She
picked up a half-full rocks glass from the coffee table and helped herself to a
seat on the plush, pale-green fabric of the sofa.
 
“You want one?”

Of course she had.

He
shook his head.
 
“Thanks, though.”

“Suit
yourself,” she quipped and raised the glass in a mock toast.
 
“Although, after that bad beat you just
took, I’d have one.”

He
snorted a short laugh.
 
She had a
point.
 
“You saw that, huh?”
 

She
nodded with a raised eyebrow.

Sean
had worked with Emily Starks at Axis for a four years.
 
She’d actually trained him when he had
arrived at the agency fresh out of college.
 
The woman was persistent and calculating, two big reasons
why she was now the director of Axis.
 
When their former boss, Grant Rawson, resigned to take a position in the
White House, Starks was by far the best replacement.
 
She knew what she could get away with, like the glass of
whiskey in her hand.
 
Emily didn’t
always play by the rules, which occasionally got her a meeting with someone in
the Justice Department.
 
But more
often than not, her gut instincts had proven correct and more than a few times
she had saved lives.

Sean
plopped down in a desk chair near the window and stretched his hands over his
head, leaving them there for a moment.
 
“So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your company at this hour…in Las
Vegas…on my vacation?”
 
He asked,
cynically.

Emily
took another sip of the brown liquid and contemplatively rolled the ice around
in the glass.
 
“We need your help,
Sean.”

Sean’s
face never flinched.
 
He figured
she needed him for something.
 
It
wasn’t often the head of one of the better government agencies in the Justice
Department came around just for drinks and chit-chat.
 
“I assume by
we
you mean
you
need my help.”

She
smiled and took another swallow.
 
“This is pretty good whiskey.”
 
She glanced at the glass for a second.
 
“That’s partially right, yeah.”
 
She looked up from the glass.
 

The
few moments of pleasantries were over.
 
He was curious to see where she was going with the talk.
 
She fingered the rim of the cup for a
moment then set it back on the table.
 
“Have you ever heard of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn?”

Sean
shook his head.
 
“Only in passing.
 
Isn’t it a dormant secret society or
something like that?
 
They fell off
the map in the early 1900s for the most part.”
 
He paused a moment in thought, looking at the ceiling.
 
“Seems like I read something about them
being interested in magic.”

“The
original members of Golden Dawn were very much into magic,” she confirmed his
memory.
 
“They had an enormous
impact on Wicca and other groups that developed occult-type systems.”

“So,
we can blame the Goth trend on them?”

She
ignored his joke.
 
“They were
originally formed by three former freemasons.
 
The three men were also members of another, more secretive
group called The Rosicrucians.

“Sounds
like they were busy guys.
 
I don’t
even have time to give blood.”

“The
founders were Wescott, Mathers, and Woodman,” she went on.
 
“Woodman was at the top of several
different secret societies, one of which was the Order of the Red Cross of
Constantine.
 
He had been a doctor in
his early life.
 
Not much is known
of him because he died shortly after Golden Dawn was established.”

Sean
tried not to seem bored.
 
“I’m
assuming all of this ties into you needing my help.”

Emily
cast him an irritated glance.
 

“I’m
sorry.
 
Go on,” he insisted.

“Wescott
and Woodman were both physicians:
 
Wescott a coroner and Woodman a licensed surgeon.
 
Both had Latin mottos.
 
Woodman’s:
 
Magna est Veritas et Praelavebit-”

“Great
is the truth and it shall prevail,” Sean chimed.

“Show
off.”
 
She continued, “Wescott’s
was similar:
 
have courage to
know.”

Sean
rubbed his eyes and looked over at the clock.
 
It was way too late to be getting a history lesson.

“So,
what was the third guy’s?”

“He
didn’t have one.
 
Mathers was
different than the other two.
 
As I
said before, Woodman and Wescott were both doctors.
 
They were both members of several different
organizations.
 
Mathers was a clerk
and was introduced to the freemasons by a friend.

“While
Wescott and Woodman seemed occupied with discovering truth, Mathers seemed more
interested in what the various secret organizations could do for him.
 
The other two died before he did, and
when he left the Order in 1903 it was reportedly because of many debts.

“For
the last hundred years, the Golden Dawn was thought to be dormant, like you
said.
 
Now, it seems, they have
resurfaced.”

“Meaning
what?”

She
reached down and grabbed another draught of the brown liquid before
continuing.
 
“The Order of the
Golden Dawn was an unnecessary addition to an already saturated period of
secret societies.
 
Most of the
members were part of the Rosicrucian sect, as well as the freemasons.
 
These guys didn’t put this group
together because they were bored.”

“What
are you trying to say, Em?”

“I’m
saying that they were looking for something.”

Sean
raised his hands, exasperated.
 
“Which was?”

“We
believe they were looking for the golden chambers, specifically the fourth
chamber.”

“What’s
so special about the last chamber?”

She
leaned forward.
 
“They believe that
within the fourth chamber there is something powerful, something that can give
the order extraordinary control over the tides of human events.”

Sean
stood up.
 
“How many of those
drinks did you have before I came in here?”

Emily
rolled her eyes.
 
“Look, Sean.
 
What we know is that this group was
inactive for a long time after having a precarious beginning and abrupt end.
 
But it seems now they have a new leader
and he will stop at nothing to find the fourth chamber.”

He
was standing at the window looking out at the lights of the boulevard
below.
 
“And who is that, this ‘new
leader’?”

“Have
you ever heard of Alexander Lindsey?”

“Might
ring a bell.
 
Eccentric rich
guy.
 
Seems a lot like Howard
Hughes.
 
Stays out of public
mostly.”
 
He shrugged.
 
“What about him?”

“We
think he is the one behind what happened to you and Tommy a few weeks ago.”

Sean’s
head spun.
 
“Look, Em.
 
I’m retired from government work
now.
 
My job is with IAA.”
 
He could tell she understood.
 
But there was something she wasn’t telling
him.
 
“Who’s the
we
you referred to earlier?” he
asked.
 
“And why are they
interested in me?”

Suddenly,
the conversation was interrupted by a sound coming from the entrance.
 
Someone was trying to open the door.

“Looks
like they aren’t the only people interested in you,” she raised an eyebrow.

“Friends
of yours?”
 
He hoped.

She
shook her head slowly.

Chapter 5

Las Vegas, Nevada

The
Agusta’s engine hummed above as the helicopter sped through the night, headed
towards the mountains to the north of Las Vegas.
 
The city blinked busily in the darkness of the desert
through one of the cabin windows.
 
Alexander peered through the window, lost in thought.
 
Soon he would be back in his bed, safe
in the mountain compound he’d had built decades ago.
 
It was nice to have money.
 
It could buy you fame or solitude.
 
He preferred the latter, especially considering his mission.

He
knew where his great grandfather had failed, he would succeed.
 

The
cell phone in his left jacket pocket rang silently, interrupting his
moment.
 
He glanced at the number
on the screen and then answered the call.
 
“I trust everything is going according to plan?”
The voice on the other line was young but confident.
 
“Not exactly.
 
We’ve had a complication with the code interpretation.
 
I’m on my way to fix the problem right
now.”

Another
issue.
 
The “complications” that
occurred a few weeks ago had turned into a full-blown fiasco.
 
What was supposed to be a quiet
operation had become a media frenzy.
 
The public was fascinated by the treasure hunt, intrigue, and murder.
 
At least nothing pointed his
direction.
 
Attention was not
something Lindsey wanted.
 
Not yet.
 
Now every treasure hunter on the planet
was trying to figure out where the next chamber was.
 

“What
happened?” he asked abruptly.

“I
believe that the others may have made a move to try and locate the
information.”
 
There was a slight
pause.
 
“Whoever they sent made a
mess of everything.”

Lindsey’s
blood boiled and his eyes narrowed, filling with rage.
 
“Those fools.
 
I told them not to interfere.
 
But they just can’t leave well enough alone.”
 

Their
organization was built around three controlling members, a triumvirate of
sorts.
 
They made executive
decisions concerning the Order that most lower level members never even knew
about.
 
It had always been that
way, since the very beginning.

He
realized he’d been silent for a moment when his man spoke again.
 
“Not to worry, sir.
 
I will handle it.
 
I trust you will take care of things
with the other two.”

He
thought for a brief second about how to approach things with the others.
 
For the most part, the other two were
obedient and submissive.
 
They
always agreed to whatever he decided was best for the Order.
 
It was nice to have puppets.
 
Lindsey knew they were jealous of his
power and loathed the fact that he had almost autonomous control over the
organization.
 
But under his
leadership what had been a broken and forgotten group had risen from the ashes
of obscurity and amassed money in the billions along with a tremendous amount
of behind-the-scenes clout in political arenas.
 

While
conspiracy theorists talk about the Bildeburg Group and the Freemasons, The
Order of the Golden Dawn were pulling more and more strings by the year.

“Make
sure you take care of things quickly there.”
 
He paused momentarily, considering something else.
 
“What about the Las Vegas issue?”

“Our
men are moving in now, sir.
 
That
problem will be eliminated within the hour.”

“Good.”
 
Soon, his operatives would have the
location of the next chamber.
 
And then, only a few short steps away from
--
His thoughts trailed away into a plethora of grand possibilities.

Up
ahead, he could see the pale lights of his mountain compound.
 
A mansion cut into the rock itself, the
facility had cost millions.
 
But it
provided him with a hidden fortress where he could escape watchful eyes.
 
Even satellites would have a difficult
time spotting the 15,000 square-foot palace.
 
So natural was its appearance with the surroundings.
 
For a long time he’d stayed concealed
in the shadows.
 
Soon, he thought,
the time for laying in wait would come to an end.