James Acton 04 - The Templar's Relic (4 page)

So a G-V to Europe wasn’t out of the ordinary, especially if time were of the essence. And the last time they had landed in Rome, a limousine much like the one that stood before them now had resulted in a harrowing experience.

The door opened.

And Giasson stepped out.

“Professors, it is okay, come, come,” he said, waving his hand for them to join him.

Acton breathed a sigh of relief and smiled, glancing back at Laura who also looked relieved. They descended the stairs, and one of the ground crew at the charter terminal unloaded their bags. The chauffeur loaded them in the trunk as the traditional cheek kisses were exchanged.

“It is so good to see you again, Professors. After last time, I decided it best I should pick you up myself.”

Laura climbed into the back of the limo and Acton followed her.

“It’s appreciated, Mario,” said Laura, settling in. “I haven’t sat in the back of a car since without feeling some trepidation.”

Giasson climbed in and the chauffeur shut the door. “Nothing to worry about on this drive, I assure you.”

Acton looked at Giasson.
He looks tired.

“So, why have you brought us here?”

Giasson leaned forward. “We’re in the process of sealing the secret entrance to the Vault.”

“Not the one in the—”

“No,” interrupted Giasson. “That one must remain. I mean the one that was used to abduct you.”

“Ahh, okay. That makes sense.”

Giasson massaged his temples. “We’ve been trying to get this going for months; since the very day after those events were concluded. But we’ve run into delay after delay.
Inexplicable
delay after delay.”

“What do you mean?” asked Laura.

“Because the passage actually is just a link to the sewage system that’s been there, shared with the city of Rome for over a century, we need permits from the Italian federal and Rome municipal governments to proceed with the work. We’re calling it a modernization of that portion, claiming a cave in.”

“Cave in? How’d you get them to believe that?”

“I planted a small explosive charge on the ceiling and detonated it.”

Acton smiled. “So there
was
a cave in.”

“Absolutely,” said Giasson with a grin. “Which of course demanded a repair. His Holiness naturally was in on the plan, and ordered Vatican City to take the opportunity to upgrade that part of the sewage line rather than just repair the old line. And that’s when the problems started.”

“Such as?”

“Delays in getting permits. An unusual number of environmental assessments, building code inspectors, engineering studies—it never ended. Also, almost every form we ever submitted was lost. Replies were lost. We ended up having to hand deliver our paperwork. In all my years I’ve never seen such a thing.”

“Sounds like somebody was trying to keep you from plugging their leak.”

Giasson nodded.

“It didn’t end there. Once we had everything in place, we had a hard time getting contractors. People wouldn’t bid on the job, or they’d drop out. Once we finally got a firm, after offering a large bonus sum, equipment began to be sabotaged or stolen.” Giasson shook his head. “It is terrifying that they have this much power.”

“Surely you haven’t called us in because of this,” said Laura. “You found something?”

Giasson nodded. “Once we finally started excavating, we stumbled upon something.”

Laura leaned forward. “What?”

“Some sort of crypt.”

Acton and Laura exchanged excited glances. Acton motioned with his fingers. “Details!”

“I don’t have any. Some of the construction workers fell in the hole, and discovered several sarcophagi. They were pulled out and the area stabilized so it would be safe for a team to go in. But with all the problems we’ve been having, I wasn’t about to let more outsiders inside the city to investigate. Which is when I thought of you.”

“Why?”

“Because I trust you. And so does His Holiness.”

Acton sat back in the leather seat, eyeing Giasson. “There’s something you aren’t telling us.”

Giasson frowned. “You are very astute, my friend.” He snapped open a briefcase, removing a file folder. He flipped it open, revealing a sheaf of papers. “These have been found on the job site, inside paperwork. Everywhere.” Flipping through them, it was evident they all were the same. Each contained the symbol of the Triarii, with a red cross through them.

“So the Keepers of the One Truth are involved.”

“Undoubtedly.”

Acton took Laura’s hand.

“Which means none of us are safe.”

Al 'Ayadiyeh, Outside Acre, Dominion of Saladin

1191 AD

Tears streaked Malik’s cheeks. He couldn’t help it. He was terrified. Screams echoed off the hill at their backs as the infidel Frankish soldiers charged with sword and lance, a massacre unlike anything he could have imagined, beginning. He held onto the other children, trying to shield their eyes from the horrors he couldn’t help but take in.

His eyes, unblinking, red, blurred as the thousands hemmed in by the horses and tents of the invaders, pushed themselves back toward the hill, and away from the advancing army. Women and children pled to Allah, the men prayed as they tried to shield their wives and loved ones from the onslaught.

But it was hopeless. The hill was too steep, there was no way to climb it. And the armies surrounded them on the other three sides, slashing and stabbing their way forward, decapitating and goring hundreds at a time, the hoofs of their beasts crushing any survivors.

And through it all he saw John, standing beside the knights that had rescued them, the knights who had ultimately turned them over to the garrison now committing the slaughter, all on one whispered word of a small boy whose head was now buried in Malik’s thigh.

John had pled to them, but they had refused to let us go, instead lashing us to the group of prisoners they had already collected, leaving only John free. He had fought valiantly against the knights, but when one drew his sword to cut him down, Malik had yelled for John to stop. The words weren’t understood, but everyone knew what was meant, and John, resigned to the fate of his companions, dropped to the desert floor and wept.

“Malik!”

Malik turned toward the voice calling him. It was Imam Ali, fighting his way toward him. Malik began to push through the crowd, toward his Imam, but it was almost no use, the crowd surge carrying both of them toward the base of the hill. But in time, each made a little progress, and eventually they clasped each other’s hands.

“Malik, my boy, why? Why are you here?”

Malik felt the shame fill his chest and stomach. “I am sorry, Imam, but I came across these boys”—he pointed at the three with his chin, his arms still around them—“being held prisoner by slavers. I felt compelled to rescue them.”

The Imam nodded, reaching out and feeling the scroll tucked in its case under Malik’s robes.

Malik’s voice broke. “I’m so sorry I failed you!”

Imam Ali smiled at his pupil. “You did Allah’s will, by saving these boys.” He patted each on the head as they all struggled to maintain their balance, the crowd jostling them in their desperation.

The infidel soldiers were less than fifty paces away.

Malik looked down at the three sobbing boys, then at his Imam. “But to what end? At least with the slavers they would have lived! All I have done is kill them!”

“It is Allah’s will. They have earned their place in Paradise.”

And with that he turned to face the infidels and yelled, at the top of his voice, “Stop, and listen to my words. Give yourself to Allah, and face your enemies with courage in your eyes, and peace in your heart, for today we enter Paradise, to celebrate our sacrifice with our loved ones for eternity, at Allah’s and the blessed Prophet’s side.” He held up his hands. “Do not run, but turn and face your enemy. Show them your bravery, show them your faith, a faith these infidels can never have, can never understand, for they will never know the love of Allah and the Prophet, peace be upon him.”

Malik thought Imam Ali’s words wasted, but the screaming began to subside, as did the jostling, and those nearest him stopped, and turned, then others, and soon the mass of screaming flesh, desperate to attempt the impossible climb, stopped.

And so did the infidels.

The few hundred prisoners that remained all stood, most still weeping, but quieter now, their faces, rather than their backs, toward the murderers, murderers who would now need to look their victims in the eyes as they did the Devil’s work.

A shout from one of their leaders urged the onslaught forward, and the screams of those nearest them cried out against the sobs and prayers, but the survivors held their ground. Malik gripped the boys tight, shielding their eyes as best he could. He felt Imam Ali’s hand on his shoulder as he recited a prayer from the Koran. They were paces away now. He looked at his Imam, regret on his face, then shock, as the sword of a knight arced through the air, cleaving the holy man’s head cleanly from his shoulders.

Malik turned to face his own murderer, a knight hidden behind a helmet concealing enough of his features that he would be impossible to identify, but Malik took comfort in knowing that Allah knew all, and this soldier, this infidel, this murderer, would pay the ultimate price in the afterlife. For what he did here today, was not the work of the Christian god, but a labor in service of evil, an evil that left the blood of thousands to stain the desert for time without end, and a thousand infidel souls to burn in damnation for eternity.

Malik never felt the blade that sent his soul to Paradise, and thankfully, was spared the sight of the massacre of three innocents, who knew not why they died.

Northern Wall, Vatican City

Present Day

Acton looked about. The Keepers of the One Truth. They were sworn to protect the secrets of the Vault, which for over a millennia had hidden away the blasphemous, the heretical, the unexplained. And as events a few months ago had proven, they would stop at nothing to do so. His eyes came to rest on one man who seemed to be staring a little too intently. The man continued to stare at Acton, before turning and talking to someone beside him.

I’m getting paranoid.

But that was the problem. They could be anyone, anywhere. They had two thousand years to get their fingers into whatever pie they needed to protect their secrets. And they’d proven that they were willing to stop at nothing to do it.

Including murder.

He took one last look before climbing down the ladder, and into the newly discovered crypt. Laura immediately followed. Though it was daylight outside, it was still dark in the crypt. One large portable light had been lowered in, its bulbs flooding the room with light, casting long shadows past anything of interest. Acton had told them to wait before putting any additional lighting in, as he didn’t want to risk damage to any of the find by untrained workers.

It was damp, musky, the heavy, stagnant air not having exchanged with the fresh air from above. It was breathable, barely. But Acton had been in worse. Far worse.

“Look.”

Acton looked to where Laura’s flashlight was pointing.

“There used to be an entranceway here, but it’s been sealed.”

Acton nodded, running his hands over the masonry. “It looks old. At least five hundred years. We’ll carbon date the mortar. That should give us a good estimate as to when this was done.”

Acton continued to survey the perimeter, ignoring the sarcophagi. He was itching to examine them, but like when he was a kid, he was eating the vegetables first, saving the meat for last.

Unless there was gravy.

His stomach rumbled.

“Was that you?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “A man’s gotta eat.”

Laura shook her head. “You’re the one who insisted on skipping lunch and getting started.”

Acton chuckled. “Hey, I’m allowed to make a mistake now and then.”

He caught Laura shining her flashlight on her engagement ring. It sparkled against the wall. He cleared his throat. “Hey, we’ve got work to do here.”

She looked at him, a smile on her face. “Busted?”

“Busted.” He pointed at the sealed entrance. “This seems to be the only way in or out. For whatever reason, this room was intentionally sealed off, which is kind of odd.”

“Agreed,” said Laura from the other side of the chamber. “I could see it being forgotten about over the centuries and eventually cut off from new construction by accident, but this is one room, with just the doorway sealed up.” She paused. “I wonder what’s on the other side of the door.”

Acton tapped the stone with a small hammer. “We’ll find out when we open this up, I guess. This could just be the tip of the iceberg.” He turned on his heel and shone his flashlight at the four sarcophagi occupying the center of the room. “So, what have we here?” he said, more to himself than anyone else. Laura too switched her attention.

They were each about six to seven feet long, three feet wide, and the sarcophagi themselves were about three feet high, but sat atop platforms each several feet high. The four tombs were orientated with the head of each in the center of the room, with the bottom-most of the sarcophagi having its feet pointing toward the stoned up entrance. Two stone steps wrapped around the entire outer area of the four sarcophagi, then the third to fifth steps broke off from the base steps into four distinct groups, ending surrounding their respective sarcophagus.

“A lot of work went into this.”

Acton nodded. “Whoever they were at one time commanded a lot of respect to have this”—Acton waved his arm at the scene before them—“done for them. I wonder what changed to have them walled up and forgotten.”

Laura climbed the steps nearest her and gasped. “James, look!”

Acton climbed the steps surrounding the sarcophagus nearest him, and he felt his heart hammer in his chest in excitement. He had expected the sculpted form of the knight that lay before him, the detail of the armor and the standard chiseled face of a warrior with long hair unsurprising. But what he hadn’t expected was the shield.