The Templar's Quest Part 7

His brows noticeably lifted. 'You're a bona fide doctor? Are you s.h.i.+tting me?'

' "Yes" to the first question, "no" to the second. However, I rarely use the t.i.tle.' Hard-earned though those three letters were, when she left the world of academia two years ago and ventured beyond the ivory tower, she discovered that her t.i.tle was off-putting. 'I'm curious why did you keep the medallion? Were you planning to sell it on the black market?' she asked, purposefully changing the subject.

Leaning against the tufted sofa, Finn crossed his arms over his chest. 'You don't think very highly of me, do you, Doc? Actually, I kept it so no one else could sell the d.a.m.ned thing on the black market. My Delta team was sent into a very dangerous situation under false pretences. Put into harm's way to retrieve a gold trinket so some higher-up could have a nice payday. I held on to the medallion hoping it would force the crooked b.a.s.t.a.r.ds out of the woodwork so they could be prosecuted.' Grim-faced, his chin dipped to his chest. But not before Kate glimpsed the stark grief that glimmered in his eyes. 'I just never thought they'd kill my buddies to get the d.a.m.ned medallion.'

All in all, an unexpected confession. One that bespoke a n.o.ble intent. A virtue Kate didn't necessarily a.s.sociate with the foul-mouthed commando sitting across from her.

'All right, now what?' She carefully set the golden relic on the coffee table.

'Now I track down the a.s.sa.s.sin who executed Dixie and Johnny K.'

'Have you considered relinquis.h.i.+ng the medallion to the Seven in order to clear '

'Don't even go there,' Finn interjected, rudely cutting her off in mid-sentence. 'This medallion is the only leverage I have. As long as it's in my possession, I've got a chance of getting Dixie and Johnny K the justice they deserve. Just so you know, they were the bravest of the brave. The guys who went in under the cover of night to take out a dangerous threat so that you and everybody else in this country can sleep safely at night. They didn't deserve to die the way they did. Which is why I will find the s.a.d.i.s.tic s.h.i.+t who tortured them to death and I will make him pay.'

The vehemence in his voice sent a chill down Kate's spine. 'An eye for eye? Is that what you mean?'

Hearing that, Finn snorted derisively. 'I've killed enough men in the line of duty to know you don't gain a whole lot of satisfaction from pulling the trigger. I'm talking about hauling the Dark Angel into a court of law so that he can be tried and sentenced. More than anything else, I want him to be publicly held to account for slaying two American heroes.'

'What if you can't find him?' she countered, thinking it might prove a difficult, if not impossible, challenge. 'Other than his cryptic nom de guerre, you don't know anything about the killer.'

Getting up from the sofa, Finn s.n.a.t.c.hed her coffee mug and walked over to the kitchenette that was located a few feet away. 'Actually, I do know one other thing about the killer,' he said over his shoulder. 'The fact that Jutier went to such lengths to protect his ident.i.ty makes me think that the Dark Angel is one of 'em.'

'You mean a member of the Seven rather than a paid a.s.sa.s.sin?' When he nodded, Kate followed up by saying, 'Fabius Jutier's tattoo may provide a clue. Do you mind if I have a look at the digital photograph?'

Finn unhooked the cell phone from his waistband and scrolled through the log. Walking back to the sofa, he handed her the device. 'Any idea what it means?'

Trying to ignore the fact that she was staring at a photo of a corpse, she examined the disturbing tattoo. 'While I'm not a rune expert, I know that in the ancient Norse poems, runes were considered a magical talisman, capable of bringing the dead back to life. And during the Third Reich, there were a number of occult groups that used runes in their rituals. That said, the runes suggest that Fabius Jutier was involved in some type of esoteric n.a.z.ism.'

'I take it that's different from the goose-stepping variety?'

'Different in that esoteric n.a.z.ism was, and still is, a pseudo-religious belief. While my knowledge of the n.a.z.i movement is rudimentary, I do know that during the nineteen thirties and forties, esoteric n.a.z.is were obsessed with finding sacred objects d'art such as the relics of the Bible, medieval icons and Egyptian artefacts. It's well doc.u.mented that they sent archaeology teams all over Europe and the Middle East.'

'Yeah, I saw the movie,' Finn deadpanned. 'But instead of the Ark of the Covenant, our bad guys are looking for the Montsegur Medallion.'

'So it would seem.'

Finn headed towards the dinette table situated on the other side of the living room. 'I'm gonna try to hack into Frenchie's computer. There might be something on it that I can use to track down the Seven.'

'Um, count me out,' she demurred.

Kate set the cell phone on the coffee table next to the medallion. The sudden motion cost her, the pain radiating up her spine and across her shoulders. Somewhat gingerly, she rose to her feet, only to teeter precariously to one side. Feeling like a s.h.i.+pwrecked woman washed ash.o.r.e, she kicked off her shoes and limped over to the window.

Although she knew it was a pointless exercise, she pulled the dun-brown drapery to one side, needing to verify that the world still turned on its figurative axis. In the distance, the white spire of the Was.h.i.+ngton Monument gleamed theatrically, lit from below with giant floodlights. Directly across the river was the Pentagon.

G.o.d, what I wouldn't give to put back the clock. Since Finn McGuire had unexpectedly got into her car at the Pentagon, her life had become a surreal blur of events. Elegant emba.s.sy party. Dead man with bizarre tattoo. High-speed chase. Armed a.s.sailants. And the capstone, a bomb blast that destroyed her home.

And wasn't that a bitter irony?

After her infant son died, she lost the will to live, feeling as though someone had driven a railroad spike through her heart, pinning her to the tracks. Except the train never came to take her out of her misery. And then, one morning, she woke up and for the first time in nearly two years she could hear the birds chirping outside the window. Could feel the sun on her face. Could taste the sweetness of sugar in her coffee. Small everyday moments that most people take for granted. The fact that she experienced an instant's joy in them made her realize that she wanted to live. To make that cliched fresh start.

And just when she'd decided to return to the land of the living, some group called the Seven decided that they wanted her dead.

Thank G.o.d she'd had the foresight to create a digital photo alb.u.m with all of Sammy's pictures, the CD in her safe deposit box at the bank. She could bear losing the contents of her house, but not that. Those were the only memories that truly counted.

And I can only savour those cherished memories if I stay alive.

Pensively staring out of the window, Kate could feel the onslaught of emotion about to rear its ugly head. So many ugly heads. So many cras.h.i.+ng fears and colliding thoughts. Keep running. Don't stop. If you do, they will hunt you down and kill you.

After the 1941 attack on Pearl Harbor, j.a.panese Americans were forcibly rounded up and interned in 'War Relocation Camps'. Refusing to be separated from her husband, Kate's grandmother accompanied her husband Yos.h.i.+ro Tanaka when he was loaded on to the train bound for the Manzanar Camp. She was the only Caucasian in the internment facility other than the military police who guarded the compound. Like so many thousands of loyal Americans of j.a.panese descent, in the blink of an eye her grandparents lost their home, their livelihood and their community. She'd often wondered how they survived the shock of having their lives pulled out from under them. Now she knew.

You just put one foot in front of the other and keep on trudging.

Ready to trudge forward, Kate let the curtain fall back into place. Peering over her shoulder, she stared contemplatively at the man seated at the table.

Finn McGuire was the last person she ever thought she'd turn to for help. The fact that she had to turn to anyone made her acutely uncomfortable. After her husband's hideous betrayal, trust didn't come easy to her, although she sensed that Sergeant McGuire was loyal to a fault when it came to his brothers-in-arms.

Even though I don't know him, I can trust him to keep me alive.

That might be the only thing that she could trust him with. So be it. She needed a bodyguard, not a lifetime companion. And though nervous about spending an extended amount of time with a man she barely knew, the other option going it alone would be a death sentence.

16.

'So, how are we coming along with computer hacking?'

'I was able to get on to Jutier's desktop, but I can't access any of his personal files without a pa.s.sword,' Finn muttered, surprised by Kate's sudden interest.

'Mind if I have a look?'

'Help yourself. Although I didn't peg you for the type who approved of computer hacking.' Particularly given the stink she raised when he s.n.a.t.c.hed the laptop from Jutier's office.

Sitting down at a dinette chair, Kate swivelled the computer in her direction. 'Since you're locked out of Jutier's files, it's technically not hacking. I just want to take a quick peek at his desktop. You know. Curiosity. The cat.' As soon as she said it, she winced. 'How weird is that? We've been in each other's company for only a few hours and I'm already starting to sound like you.'

'Just as long as you don't start looking like me.'

'G.o.d forbid.' As she said it, Kate's gaze dropped to his right hand. An instant later, evidently realizing what she'd done, she glanced away.

'Luckily, the Syrian who pulled the trigger was a lousy shot. All he got was my finger,' Finn told her, trying to put a nonchalant spin on a potentially awkward moment.

'Does it ever hurt?' she asked.

Usually those kind of questions p.i.s.sed the s.h.i.+t out of him, but for some reason he found Kate's earnest expression oddly endearing.

'Nah, it doesn't hurt,' he lied. 'Although I can forecast when it's going to rain.' Because that's when it hurt like a mother.

From time to time, Finn still caught himself about to scratch his nose, rub an eye or press a keypad with his absentee index finger. As much as he wished the amputation hadn't happened, he tried to look on the bright side he could still flip someone the bird. And, h.e.l.l, it wasn't like he'd had his Johnson blown off. Luckily for him, that appendage worked just fine. Sometimes a little too fine.

He shot Kate an appraising glance.

High cheekbones, almond-shaped eyes, silky black hair and a wide nose gave her a slightly Asian look. Kinda exotic, actually. Which made the freckles that dotted those high cheekbones totally unexpected. Same with the eye colour; not quite grey, not quite blue. More like a muddy mix of the two.

As he continued to stare at the woman seated next to him, Finn wondered what would have happened if they'd gone on a 'regular date'. To the movies. Followed by a bite to eat. At that new Thai restaurant over in Rosslyn. Afterwards, they would have strolled along the ca.n.a.l before he took her home. It would have been a given that he'd kiss her goodnight at the front door. And, if the vibe was right, she might have invited him inside for a cup of coffee. If the vibe was really right, the coffee would've been served the next morning. As perfect as a date can get.

Nice daydream. Except they'd had a different kind of date. Not to mention that it was hard to kiss a lady at the front door when she no longer had a front door. Or even a house, for that matter.

Jesus! She must think I'm a real b.a.s.t.a.r.d.

For some reason, that thought bothered him.

'Don't call retreat just yet,' Kate suddenly announced, tapping a fingertip against the laptop screen. 'Here's Jutier's Day Planner. Hopefully, we won't need a pa.s.sword to open it.'

'I can't imagine the French dude would have been stupid enough to schedule Dixie and Johnny K's murder, but yeah, go ahead, let's have a look-see.'

Kate's fingers deftly moved across the keyboard.

'I'm in.' She opened the calendar for the month of August. 'There's tonight's reception. Tomorrow morning, August third, he has a ten o'clock manicure scheduled. Later in the day, he's playing a round of golf at the Congressional Country Club.'

'I didn't know Frenchmen could play golf,' Finn snickered. 'And the thought that he was going to have his nails done ahead of time is more than this beer-swigging soldier can handle. Pa.s.s me the Freedom Fries on the double-quick.'

Ignoring him, Kate continued to read aloud from the calendar. 'The day after that, he's booked on Air France Flight 039. And, the following day, August fifth at eleven o'clock, he's scheduled to attend ' Kate grinned excitedly ' "une reunion du sept ".'

'English would be nice.'

'A meeting of the Seven,' she translated, still grinning from ear to ear.

'Paydirt! Yeah, boy.' Although he didn't grin, Finn came d.a.m.ned close. 'Where's the meeting being held?'

Kate moved the cursor over the calendar date and clicked. 'The detail screen is blank.'

'No problem. Let's go out on the Internet and get the route information for Air France Flight 039.'

Minimizing the calendar, Kate quickly accessed the Air France webpage. 'It's a nonstop between Was.h.i.+ngton and Paris.'

'And Paris is a big, freaking city.' s.h.i.+t. A roadblock. He got up and walked over to the kitchen, the bottle of Jameson's starting to look real good.

'I just found the Seven.'

'What?' Finn spun on his heel, wondering if he'd heard correctly. 'What do you mean, you just found the Seven?'

'I mean that I went to an online search engine and I typed the words "Paris", "Seven" and "Fabius Jutier". The Seven Research Foundation is a private endowment and Fabius Jutier is listed as one of the board members. A man by the name of Ivo Uhlemann is listed as the Director. Here. See for yourself.'

Bracing one hand on the back of Kate's chair and the other on the table, Finn leaned over her shoulder. Only to back away a split-second later. 'It's in French. As in no par-lay-voo.'

'According to their site, the Seven Research Foundation is a private inst.i.tute that awards research grants to qualified scholars in the fields of astronomy, physics, geology, electrical engineering, linguistics, history and archaeology.' She peered at him, brows drawn together in a quizzical frown. 'That's a rather unusual mix, don't you think? Particularly for a group that may be linked to esoteric n.a.z.is.'

'Maybe the foundation is just a front. And what were you expecting? For them to put a bunch of n.a.z.i symbols on the home page?'

Jesus. The n.a.z.is. When he was a kid, their upstairs neighbour used to tell stories about the day his army unit liberated the Dachau concentration camp and how the black vultures were circling around stacked corpses left outside to rot. Old man Garrett sure knew how to scare the s.h.i.+t out of a six-year-old.

'According to the contact page, the Seven Research Foundation is headquartered in the Grande Arche office building just west of Paris,' Kate remarked.

'Then it's a do-able.'

Greyish-blue eyes opened wide. 'You're actually going to Paris?'

'You got a better plan?' Not waiting for her reply, he said, 'Something tells me that I want to have a little meet-and-greet with this Ivo Uhlemann dude. Best way to catch a lion is to track him to his lair.'

'And then what?'

Backing away from the table, Finn said, 'I'll figure that out once I get to Paris.'

'Then you better book two seats. I'm going with you.'

17.

Paris, France Alas, Paris is the key, Ivo Uhlemann ruminated. A key that fitted a unique lock designed centuries ago by the Knights Templar.

Not Berlin, or even Vienna, but Paris.

As his chauffer-driven Mercedes Benz cruised through the eighth arrondiss.e.m.e.nt, the city lights pa.s.sed in a blurred collage. Peering out of the window, Ivo contemplated the night sky, the cosmic sphere that taunted so many physicists.

And was so intimately conjoined to Paris and the Lapis Exillis.

Because Paris was the key, it had been spared from destruction in 1940. At the time, many feared the German Luftwaffe would reduce the city to rubble. But the Fuhrer never gave the order. Not because he had a sentimental attachment to Baroque architecture or possessed a magnanimous heart. The order wasn't given because the Seven had briefed Adolf Hitler several months prior to the invasion of France. In that extraordinary meeting, they'd shown the Fuhrer why das Gro Versuch, the Great Experiment, had to take place in Paris.

'For better or for worse,' Ivo muttered as he set his gaze on the Grande Arche, the ma.s.sive white marble hypercube visible at the western terminus of the Avenue des Champs-elysees.

'It's a warm night. Would you like me to turn on the air conditioner, Herr Doktor?'

Lost in thought, Ivo glanced at his driver. As usual, he thought the ridiculous chauffeur's cap accentuated Dolf Reinhardt's cauliflower ears and misshapen skull, the unsightly keepsakes of an ex-boxer who'd lost more bouts than he'd won. Like so many men of middling intelligence, Dolf had been forced to use his body to earn his keep. Although to his chauffeur's credit, he was loyal to a fault.

'I am comfortable. Thank you, Dolf.'

Having been apprised that Katsumi Bauer survived the explosion, Ivo now feared that they were dealing with a cunning enemy. Moreover, he worried that the American commando had somehow discovered that the Montsegur Medallion contained a treasure map. One that had been devised nearly eight hundred years ago by a group of religious heretics known as the Cathars.

On the verge of total annihilation, the Pope having called a bloodthirsty crusade against them, the beleaguered Cathars sought the aid of the only Catholics who'd not turned against them, the Knights Templar. In exchange for their military support, the Cathars offered to give the Templars their most prized possession, the Lapis Exillis. Rightly concerned that the Templars might not hold up their end of the bargain, the Cathars crafted a magnificent gold medallion. Engraved on one side of the medallion was an encrypted map that indicated where the Lapis Exillis had been hidden. The Templars would not be given the encryption key until their battle-ready knights arrived at Montsegur. Tragically, the besieged Cathar stronghold fell to papal forces before the military contingent arrived. To the Templars' great dismay, for without the encryption key, they could not decipher the ingeniously devised map.