The Templar Chronicles (18 page)

His frustration at being so close burned like a white-hot flame, threatening to consume him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Duncan watched Cade emerge from the rear of the house, trembling with barely concealed anger, and take a seat in one of the dust-covered chairs in the kitchen. He stared straight ahead at the wall in front of him, isolated by the weight of his emotion.

Choosing discretion over valor, Duncan kept his mouth shut, intent on giving his commanding officer time to cool off. Instead, he turned his attention to trying to figure out where they actually were and how they were going to get back to where they should be.

All right, how hard can this be?
The first thing he tried was his cell phone, but either the battery was dead or the passage through to the Beyond had damaged it. There was a telephone mounted on the wall in the kitchen, but when he picked the receiver up, he found there was no dial tone. He’d expected as much, but it didn’t hurt to be certain. Maybe an old newspaper or something with an address label on it? He rummaged around in the kitchen for several minutes, but came up empty. The drawers and the cabinets were bare. As were the corner tables in the living room.

Perfect, just perfect.

He returned to the kitchen to find Cade waiting for him.

“It’s time to get some answers,” was all the other man said, before leading Duncan through the house and out the front door into the cold night air without even a backward glance.

They found themselves at the very end of a long dirt road. On either side stretched barren fields as far as they could see.

There was nothing to do but start walking.

The temperature was above freezing, though not by much, Duncan figured. The sky above was clear, the stars shining brightly, and Duncan said a little prayer that it would stay that way.

They headed north, the only direction the road would take them. The bright moonlight illuminated their way perfectly.

Under other circumstances, it might have been an enjoyable stroll.

But for Duncan, it was anything but.

The last few days had opened his eyes wide with all that he’d seen and done. In just seventy-two hours, he’d been attacked by packs of revenants and flesh-hungry spectres, fought off a giant demon, journeyed to some other dimension under the power of a man known to most as the Heretic, and finally been rescued by his superior’s wife, a woman who’d been dead for several years.

He had expected his time with Echo Team to be different than his work on the protective detail, but this was bordering on the absurd, particularly since he was now wandering in the middle of nowhere, trying to figure out just where in Creation they actually were.

They covered several miles, all in silence. The landscape did not change; they were surrounded by wide stretches of barren fields the entire distance.

About an hour after they started out, they came to a crossroads.

Ahead of them, the road continued onward, disappearing in a straight line into the darkness ahead.

To their right, it did the same.

To their left, however, it continued for several hundred yards before reaching the edge of a dark wood. There, it curved around the trees and out of sight.

Cade stood in the middle of the road and tried the radio phone again, but still no luck. He replaced it in his pocket, looked at Duncan, and shrugged. “Take your pick,” he said.

The younger man pointed to the left. “At the very least, we’ll be able to look at something other than these darn fields.”

They set off again, this time walking side by side. They reached the tree line and followed the road as it curved to the left.

There, just around the corner, was a gas station.

The pumps were gone; the caps in the raised concrete dividers the only evidence they’d even existed. The large neon sign that had once stood proudly over the facility was reduced now to a single G, dark and lonely on its pedestal. The exterior walls of the station were covered with graffiti and a thick sheen of dust covered the windows, but it couldn’t have been mistaken for anything but an old gas station.

Beneath the streetlight in the corner stood a battered old Coke machine, its front smashed open. Next to it, under the single streetlamp that lit the scene, was a pay phone.

With Cade following behind him, Duncan jogged over to the phone and picked up the receiver.

It came free in his hand, the severed end of the cord hanging free.

“Damn!” he said, throwing it aside.

He turned away from the phone and moved over to the station itself. Rubbing his sleeve against a window, Duncan cleared a section of dirt and grime as best he could, then peered inside. He could just make out several empty sets of shelves, a smashed refrigerator case, and a cashier’s station.

Behind the counter, faded and torn but still tacked firmly to the wall, was a large map.

The front door was unlocked, long since having fallen victim to a few well-placed kicks. Duncan climbed over the counter to look at the map.

In the dim light coming in from outside, he could see that it was a large scale map of northern New York, so at least they were still in the same state.

But if the big red “You Are Here” symbol was correct, the deserted gas station he now stood in was more than fifty miles away from where they started.

It was going to be a long walk back.

*** ***

As the search for Duncan and Cade continued, Riley and Olsen turned their attention to trying to determine the significance of the information they’d been entrusted with. They borrowed several squads of men from Major Barnes and began checking out the most likely possibilities. Maps and GPS coordinates were cross-checked. Teams were dispatched to the nearest public libraries, searching their catalogs for books with a catalog number that might match. Train stations, bus stations, airports, health clubs, all were searched for a locker with the proper number and combination. State driver’s license records were clandestinely searched, hoping for a match.

Several hours after the search got under way, they had their answer.

Fifteen miles from Stone’s residence, a locker bearing the designation B27 was located. The remaining numbers proved to be the combination that opened it. Inside, the search team found a sealed packet of files. The information was collected and brought back to the Broadmoor commandery, where it was turned over to Sergeant Riley.

He and Olsen wasted no time in going through it. It contained daily logs and activity reports from the
Custodes Veritatis
going back several months, in which Commander Stone made more than one reference to his belief that there was a mole within his unit. He’d been unable to pinpoint a source, though, and had been left only with circumstantial evidence and no real suspect to tie to it. Included with the packet was another file, this time centering on a man named Simon Logan, a self-proclaimed mystic, who had expressed a sudden interest in the mystical Spear of Longinus. The evidence Stone had collected was slim, and several years out-of-date, but one particular detail caught their attention. In the margins of one of his reports, Stone had drawn the number nine surrounded by a snake eating its own tail. Beneath it, he’d written “Council of Nine?”

At last, the Enemy had a name.

*** ***

Late that evening their missing comrades finally made contact from the pay phone in the lobby of a Days Inn some 75 miles away. A car was sent for them, and Echo’s command team was reunited just as the sun was clearing the horizon.

Each group filled the other in on what had happened in their absence; Cade and Duncan describing their battle with the sorcerers and their subsequent escape to the Beyond, Riley and Olsen outlining the assistance they’d received in the search for Cade and the file they’d located at the bus station.

It was readily apparent to all of them that the Preceptor knew more than he’d revealed. After weighing his options, Cade decided it was time to pay the man a visit.

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

Preceptor Michaels had just finished his morning cup of coffee when the door to his office burst open and his personal aide, Donaldson, was tossed inside to land in a heap on the carpet in front of his desk.

Behind him, the Heretic stalked into the room, the anger evident on his face. With him was the Preceptor’s former security chief, Sean Duncan. Through the open doorway Michaels could see Cade’s two other sergeants, Riley and Olsen, taking up guard positions outside the door.

“You lied to me,” Cade said flatly.

“And a good morning to you too, Commander,” Michaels replied, outwardly maintaining his casual air while his mind worked to figure out the angles. Donaldson, a thin man with a narrow face, scrambled to his feet, still protesting the intrusion and doing his best to explain to the Preceptor how he had tried to keep the men out of the office. Michaels waved his hand, indicating to the frantic man that everything was all right. “Fine, fine, Donaldson, yes, thank you for your help. Now please excuse us while the Commander and I have a chat.”

Cade waited until the other man had left the room before speaking again. This time his voice took on a decidedly menacing air. “You put my people in unnecessary danger for political expediency. Tell me why I shouldn’t just put a bullet through your skull to keep it from happening again.”

Michaels stood, facing the Echo Team leader squarely. “I did no such thing, Commander. And if you ever threaten me again, I’ll have you locked up faster than you can blink.”

Duncan spoke up. “You need to listen to him, sir.” While he said it respectfully, it was clearly not a request.

The Preceptor looked at him briefly, then turned his attention back to the Heretic. “If you’ll curb that notorious temper of yours, I’m quite certain we can get to the bottom of whatever is bothering you.” To quell some of the tension in the room, he came out from behind his desk and moved over to the wheeled breakfast cart standing in one corner. He poured himself a cup of coffee and offered the same to the other two men.

Cade snorted. “I don’t have time for social niceties and other bullshit. Get to the point.”

Michaels let some steel creep into his own tone. “I’m getting to the point,
Commander.
” He took a sip of his coffee, added more sugar. Still standing, he asked, “Just why do you believe I lied to you?”

The anger was still clear in Cade’s voice. “You set us up without telling us the details.” Cade mimicked the Preceptor’s voice, “I need a combat team on this one; an investigative unit just won’t do.” His voice rose. “Of course you did. More specifically, you needed
my
combat team; who else would be crazy enough to take on the Adversary without help? You sent us in blind, and it’s pure luck that all of my men are still standing at this point.”

The Preceptor had visibly paled. “The Adversary? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play coy with me, Michaels. You’ve known all along whom that damned Necromancer was working for. Just as you’ve known what they were after. Did you think the existence of the
Custodes Veritatis
was a minor issue, nothing of any real importance to us? Did you truly believe we wouldn’t find out about it?”

But Michaels wasn’t playing coy. “You are correct. I chose not to disclose the existence of the Guardians to you. I see now that I should have, but as they say, hindsight is twenty-twenty. We operate on a need-to-know basis for very obvious reasons.” The Preceptor attempted a smile, hoping to ease the mistrust that had developed between them. “You of all people should understand the need for operational security. But what does all this have to do with your Adversary?”

Cade’s anger was partially an act, designed to get the Preceptor to make a mistake and reveal himself if he was a traitor. Appearing to look somewhat mollified, Cade gave out another tidbit as bait. “The sorcerers we’ve encountered have far more power than any currently active group we know of. They didn’t just pick that knowledge up off the street; it takes years of practice and a direct connection to the demonic. In this case, their connection was the Adversary. The sorcerer leading the assault against the Broadmoor commandery had its particular stench all over him.”

“That makes no sense, Commander. Based on your report this group doesn’t number more than a handful of individuals. That’s like jabbing a hornet’s nest with a sharp stick.”

Ignoring the Preceptor’s statement for the moment, Cade made of his own. “Operational security’s a poor excuse if you knew the real targets of these attacks were the Guardians themselves.”

“But we didn’t know that. We still don’t. And my oath to the Order prevented me from disclosing their existence or information about the relics they are supposed to protect. Now, however, I would say that it is time for you and Nigel Stone, the Guardians’ commanding officer, to meet.” The Preceptor reached for the phone.

Cade delivered his knockout punch, waiting the other man closely as he did.

“Stone’s dead.”

“What?” The phone dropped back into its cradle, and there was genuine shock on the Preceptor’s face.

“Stone’s dead. We found his gutted body in a safe house in upstate New York more than fifteen hours ago. From what we could tell, he’d been tortured extensively.”

“Good Lord!” The Preceptor collapsed back into his chair, clearly unsettled by the news.

Cade went on, ruthlessly. “If we’d known earlier, if you’d told us everything we needed to know, we might have been able to save him.
He didn’t have to die!
” He slammed his fist on the desk in frustration, then took a moment to regain control of his emotions. When he resumed speaking, his voice was level once again. “He was concerned about a leak in the Order. Did you know that?”

Still dazed by the news, the Preceptor nodded almost absently. “I’ve suspected it for some time, though I’ve been unable to pinpoint the source. Nigel was aware of my concerns. In fact, he was the one who convinced me of the problem.”

“Great. Just what we need, a mole. As if a group of necromancers allied with the Adversary wasn’t enough.”