The Templar's Code (10 page)

Glancing into the darkened foyer, he saw a light emanating from a room at the end of the hallway.
The kitchen more than likely.
He headed in that direction, careful to keep his movements as smooth and even as possible. An angel of death flitting past.

A few moments later, Saviour surveyed the tidy kitchen with its row of glass containers all neatly lined on the counter.
Flour. Beans. Pasta. Sugar.
And at the end of the row, a cell phone nesting in its charger.

To call the police, the little birdies will have to come to the kitchen. All he had to do was lie in wait.

About to slip his shoes back on, Saviour saw something out of the corner of his eye—a small metal door in the middle of the kitchen wall. The panel box for the electric circuit breakers.
Even more perfect.

He softly padded across the kitchen and opened the gray metal door.

The last piece of the plan just fell into place.

“I’m casting my vote for bonkers,” Edie stated for the record, suspecting that Jason Lovett was spinning an imaginary web. “The hunt for the fabled Templar treasure makes for a great Hollywood movie, but it’s just an urban legend.”

“Many legends have a basis in fact,” Caedmon was quick to inform her just before he pressed the
Start
button on the digital voice recorder.

Needing to prove that this was a Templar settlement and not an Indian village, I used a metal detector to scan the area. It didn’t take long before I hit gold—literally—nearly shitting on the spot when I excavated a half dozen gold coins minted in the late thirteenth century. I also uncovered bits and pieces of early sixteenth-century weaponry, a sword hilt engraved with a Maltese cross, part of a rosary with a Sacred Heart of Jesus medallion, and a silver ring. The year 1523 was engraved on the rosary medallion. I then checked the historic record and learned that there were Maltese knights aboard Verrazano’s ship the
Dauphine.

Edie switched off the device. “Whoa! I didn’t see that coming,” she exclaimed, the tale having taken a dark turn.

Caedmon’s brow furrowed. “A mass grave can mean only one thing: After more than two hundred years, the Inquisition finally found the Templars in their New World hideaway.”

“Since we can’t verify that this mass grave even exists, maybe we shouldn’t jump to premature conclusions. Or make sweeping generalizations.”

“When the Age of Exploration began in the fifteenth century, I suspect that the church fathers in Rome belatedly realized the Templars had escaped to America in 1307,” Caedmon conjectured, ignoring her suggestion to put on the brakes.

“Maybe the Narragansett Indians attacked the settlement.”

“The Indian custom was to leave the bodies to rot where they fell. They wouldn’t have dug a burial pit nor razed the settlement to the ground. And the Maltese and Jesuit relics uncovered by Dr. Lovett point to an entirely different villain. In the early sixteenth century, the Jesuits took over the Inquisition. However, as ordained priests, they could spill no blood.”

“Let me guess. . . . They contracted the Knights of Malta to do their wet work.”

“The Maltese knights giving new meaning to the phrase ‘submit or die.’ ”

She shook her head, still trying to make sense of the centuries-old massacre. “This is what I don’t get—why kill the Templars’ descendants? They committed no wrongdoing.”

“One of the more onerous edicts of the Inquisition was to sear the offspring with the heretic’s brand.”

Shuddering, Edie switched on the digital voice recorder.

Even though I’ve only found six gold coins, there’s no doubt in my mind that we’re talking about the largest treasure in the world. I am so close. I even defaulted on my student loans so I’d have the cash to fund the search. But I’ve hit a roadblock. I need someone who can decipher the damned Templar carving. I’m going to D.C. to see if I can interest Caedmon Aisquith in the job. The guy’s a real academic renegade. I read his book
Isis Revealed
, and according to his bio, not only is he currently working on a book about the Templars, but he’s also interested in the Ark of the Covenant. While the Templars didn’t leave an inventory list, it’s possible the relic was part of the cache. Since I need a man with Caedmon Aisquith’s skills set, I’ll use the Ark as my calling card. God, I hope he’ll agree to help. If he does, I’ll give him a decent cut of the action. Of course, any number of folks would love to elbow me out of the way. We are, after all, talking about a shitload of money. I can’t be too safe. No one knows about my wilderness crash pad. Or so I thought until I caught someone prowling around. Said he was a hiker who lost his way, but . . . this guy did not look like a trailblazer. Unless we’re talking the Strip in Vegas. A real Rico Suave decked out in tight cargo pants. That’s why I’ve got the artifacts and all of my research notes well hidden at the cottage.

If someone is listening to this, shit, it means the fucker finally caught up to me. Just so we’re clear, I’m not paranoid. I
am
being stalked. But there’s too much at stake to tuck tail and run. No way in hell I’m going to let that pretty boy bastard take what’s mine. If he wants the treasure, he’s going to have to—

The recording abruptly ended.

Caedmon stared at the digital recorder as he thoughtfully tapped his index finger against his chin. “Lovett knew the enfant terrible was watching his every move.”

“This Rico Suave guy was probably hoping that Lovett would lead him right to the fortune. Although why kill the gilded archaeologist
before
he finds the fabled treasure?”

“I don’t know. But I would be interested to examine this boulder with the Templar cross pattée carved onto it.” Pulling the computer onto his lap, Caedmon quickly accessed an online travel agency.

“You’re going to Rhode Island, aren’t you?”

“Ah! The Hope Valley Inn is located just a few miles from Arcadia.” He glanced up from the computer. “And, yes, I am going to Rhode Island. Lovett presents a compelling case for the outlawed Templars taking their treasure to Rhode Island. The Ark of the Covenant may well have been part of the treasure trove.”

“Hel-lo! Did you even listen to the recording?” Exasperated, Edie answered her own question. “No, you did not. Because if you
had
listened, you’d know that Lovett used the Ark to lure you into the showroom. He didn’t provide one scrap of evidence to prove the Ark is part of this fabled—”

“Even if the Ark isn’t included in the treasure hoard,” Caedmon interjected, “I can’t ignore the fact that the Knights Templar may have established a secret colony in the New World. That alone warrants further investigation.”

Folding her arms across her chest, Edie carefully considered her next move. Not only did Caedmon have an obsessive interest in the Knights Templar, he also had a chip on his shoulder, courtesy of the history department at Queen’s College. Although he rarely spoke of the long-ago incident, he resented the dons at Oxford who’d trashed his unorthodox dissertation, bitter waters running
very
deep. So, no surprise that he wanted to uncover a new twist on the Templar tale. If he succeeded, it’d be the ultimate “Up yours!” And, as his paid research assistant, she did have a vested interest. Particularly since her other career prospects weren’t exactly paying the bills.

Edie glanced at the matted and framed photographs of Ethiopian women that she’d placed around the room. Some were candid shots, others were posed. All were photographs of women. No doubt, her degree in women’s studies had something to do with the content. The collection was her first foray into the realm of social documentary photography. She’d shown the photos to a couple of local dealers, managing to snag a weeklong show at a Dupont gallery that specialized in African art. Several of her photos had also been purchased by the Ethiopian embassy and would be displayed in their main reception hall. It was a small start. A baby step, really.

“I agree that the lost Templar colony will make an exciting chapter in your next book.” Caedmon would get no disagreement from her on that score. “But Jason Lovett was killed today because of something he found in Rhode Island. We have no idea what we’re going up against. And, according to the now
dead
Jason Lovett, the Catholic Church mounted a sneak attack on the Templars’ New World colony, slaughtering the inhabitants outright. We are treading on
very
dangerous ground.”

“First of all, the slaughter occurred nearly five hundred years ago. The church has long since abandoned its search for hidden Templar treasures. As for Jason Lovett’s tragic murder, we have nothing to fear; the killer doesn’t know that we’re privy to the digital recording.” Caedmon’s clipped tone made him sound like the calm voice of British reason.

Edie took a moment to digest the rebuttal; he’d punched big holes in her case. Persuasive as always.

“The phrase
aqua sanctus
might possibly lead to Dr. Lovett’s hidden research notes,” Caedmon continued. “I won’t know until I get there.”

“You’re gonna need a research assistant. I’ll go upstairs and pack a bag,” she announced, her mind made up.

“After what happened today at the House of the Temple, I’m concerned that—”

“Don’t say it.” She threw up a hand, forestalling his objection. “I know that you’re concerned for my safety, but as you just pointed out, Jason Lovett’s killer doesn’t know that we have the recording. Besides, you pay me to do a job—although I prefer to think of myself as your partner in crime and not just a business deduction on your taxes.”

Caedmon smiled at the jest. “In that case, be sure to include a pair of sturdy boots.”

“And I’ll toss in a bottle of sunscreen and a—Whoa!” she exclaimed in midstream, startled when all of the lights in the house suddenly went off. “I think we just blew a circuit.”