King's Crusade (Seventeen) Page 18

  Alexa slammed on the brakes, slipped into second gear, and sent the Fiat flying around in a controlled skid. The acrid smell of burning rubber rose around them as the little car did another one-eighty spin. She gunned the engine and drove straight for the pursuing Alfa Romeo.

  The Italian policeman’s jaw dropped open behind the windshield. He twisted his steering wheel sharply seconds from impact.

  The Alfa Romeo clipped the front bumper of the other patrol car and smashed into a line of mopeds on the sidewalk.

  Jackson gazed wide-eyed over his shoulder while the Fiat darted up a no-entry. ‘Un-freakin’-believable,’ he said, turning to stare at her.

  Alexa shrugged and took a left at the next junction. She guided the car through a series of tight twists and turns along the narrow streets of the city until the blare of sirens faded behind them. The sky darkened with storm clouds. It started to rain. Moments later, they were back on a main road and headed out of the center of Rome.

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘What happened?’ asked Reznak stiffly. The drone of the Gulfstream’s engines could not mask the distress in the Crovir noble’s voice as it came over the speakers.

  Half an hour had passed since they lifted off from Fiumicino Airport. Alexa had called Fawkes from the stolen car and asked him to update Reznak about Lorenzio’s death. They left the city moments after driving onto the airport tarmac.

  She glanced from the screen of the onboard computer to the aircraft’s phone. She had put it in speaker mode while she scrolled through the CCTV footage the Crovir techs had sent her in the last ten minutes. Images of the chaos inside St. Peter’s Square and its surroundings streamed across the monitor.

  Jackson sat opposite her and studied the contents of the dead archbishop’s folder.

  The monk was perched cross-legged in the leather seat across the aisle from them, his eyes closed and his expression serene. He had been particularly unforthcoming with information on the drive from Rome to the airport, and had since fallen into a meditative silence. Alexa sensed that he was biding his time.

  Carrington stood behind Jackson, his arms crossed in a defensive posture while he stared at the saffron-robed figure.

  Alexa gave her godfather a matter-of-fact account of the morning’s incident. ‘I’m uncertain whether Lorenzio’s assassination was planned to coincide with our visit,’ she said at the end. ‘It was probably fortunate that it happened while we were there.’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I fail to see anything fortunate about this situation at the moment,’ snapped Reznak.

  Alexa stared at the phone’s speaker. She had rarely heard such unrestrained anger in her godfather’s voice. ‘I saw Lorenzio’s killer,’ she explained calmly. ‘He was murdered by a member of the Rose Croix sect.’

  Reznak drew a breath in sharply. ‘Are you certain?’

  ‘Yes.’ She related the archbishop’s revelations about Alberto Cavaleti. ‘Lorenzio was in charge of a secret commission put together by the Pope to investigate the activities and motives of the Rose Croix sect,’ she added. ‘It followed the apparent murder of a close friend of his who had been on the trail of the original Mutus Liber.’

  ‘The Wordless Book?’ Reznak said in a low murmur.

  ‘Yes.’ Alexa looked across the table. ‘Jackson and I believe there might be a connection between the tombs and the Mutus Liber, if such a document does exist.’

  ‘I’ve also just realized something that’s been bothering me for a while,’ the Harvard professor said quietly, wrinkling his brow. ‘The Rose Croix is an alchemical symbol for the Philosopher’s Stone. The link exists, I’m certain of it now. But I don’t know what it is yet.’

  ‘Did Francesco say anything else?’ asked Reznak.

  Alexa could visualize her godfather’s worried expression at the other end of the line.

  ‘Cavaleti has apparently not been sighted in public for the last five years,’ she replied. She told him of Lorenzio’s suspicions about the sect’s involvement in scores of assassinations and thefts in the last one hundred years. She also reported the archbishop’s impression about their possible objective.

  ‘Jackson’s friend in Istanbul came to a similar conclusion about a future “event”,’ Reznak stated uneasily. ‘If Lorenzio was correct in his assumptions, the Rose Croix sect’s plans will cause anarchy for the human race,’ he added in a frustrated voice. ‘The immortals will not stand idly by and let that happen.’

  Alexa stared at the phone. ‘You never mentioned Lorenzio’s immortal roots.’ She could not mask the trace of accusation in her tone. Although she hated to admit it, the fact that Reznak kept secrets from her irritated her no end. He was the only person in the world who she trusted unconditionally.

  ‘To be frank, I didn’t think it was my right to reveal something so personal,’ said Reznak bluntly. ‘Stranger things have happened in the history of our race, Alexa,’ her godfather continued in a softer tone. ‘I’ve never felt the need to tell you about them because I didn’t think you would be interested.’

  Alexa knew what he said was true. Still, it did nothing to diminish her ire.

  The monk’s lips twitched in a smile. He opened his eyes. ‘It is amazing what one can see when one truly opens one’s inner eyes,’ he declared.

  ‘From that cryptic statement, I gather that was the monk talking,’ muttered Reznak over the speakerphone.

  ‘Hello, Mr. Crovir,’ he chirped.

  ‘Reznak will do, thank you, Yonten,’ said Alexa’s godfather in a stilted voice. The monk’s smile broadened at hearing his own name. ‘I spoke to Abbot Kelsang at length this morning. An old Bastian friend pointed me in his direction.’

  The monk’s expression did not change. ‘And how is Master Kelsang?’

  ‘He is well,’ replied Reznak. ‘He is, however, concerned that your actions have become somewhat…reckless since you set out on your assignment. He wishes me to remind you that, although you are one of his best field agents, you are neither the most subtle nor the most accommodating of his acolytes.’ He sighed. ‘I can sympathize with him on that subject.’

  Alexa saw a flicker of amusement cross Jackson’s face as he stared at the papers in his lap. Carrington chuckled behind him; the immortal stopped abruptly when he saw her expression and cleared his throat.

  ‘What’s this assignment you mentioned?’ she said coolly, glancing at the smiling monk.

  ‘Yonten was sent by the Abbot to observe and report the Rose Croix sect’s activities,’ said Reznak. ‘He was only to intervene directly in matters after strict discussion with the Abbot, but that doesn’t appear to have happened in this instance—a fact that vexes Yonten’s master considerably.’

  The aircraft’s engines hummed steadily in the silence that followed.

  ‘Abbot Kelsang is the current head of a twelve-hundred-year-old Buddhist order,’ said Reznak. ‘Its sole purpose is to preserve the secret of our existence and maintain peace between humans and immortals. The order is said to have been created by Guru Rinpoche.’

  Jackson drew a breath in sharply. ‘The lotus-born Second Buddha?’

  Alexa stared at him questioningly.

  ‘Rinpoche was an Indian sage who famously brought the doctrines of esoteric Buddhism to Tibet,’ the Harvard professor explained slowly. He glanced at the grinning monk. ‘He was also one of the founders of the Nyingma, the oldest school of Tibetan Buddhism.’

  ‘You’re correct as always, Jackson,’ said Reznak. ‘From what I learned this morning, Rinpoche apparently crossed paths with an immortal during the second half of the eighth century, while on his way to attend the court of King Detsen, the first Emperor of Tibet. He met many more immortals over the decades that followed and came to know the secrets of our races.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Rinpoche believed immortals stemmed from original di
vine beings and, as such, their existence needed to be concealed from humans until such a time when mankind as a whole would be able to deal with this reality in a tolerant and wise manner.’

  Jackson’s eyebrows rose at Reznak’s words.

  ‘Rinpoche predicted that this was unlikely to happen for several millennia,’ her godfather continued. ‘It was for that reason that he founded the order.’ He hesitated. ‘Yonten, show them your tattoo.’

  The monk slowly turned his right hand up and opened his fist. Etched into the skin in the middle of his palm was a black trishula mark.

  The hair on the back of Alexa’s neck rose and an uncanny presentiment flashed across her mind.

  Carrington stared at the design. ‘It’s your birthmark!’ he blurted, glancing at her.

  Jackson’s puzzled gaze switched between Alexa and Carrington. ‘What birthmark?’

  She hesitated briefly before twisting in the chair and pulling down the collar of her jacket.

  A gasp left the Harvard professor’s lips. ‘It’s Rinpoche’s trident!’

  Alexa turned and frowned at the monk. Yonten’s smile had turned inscrutable.

  ‘The trishula is not just a symbol of Buddhism,’ said Reznak.

  ‘Of course,’ said Jackson. ‘It’s a weapon that has been wielded by many powerful deities in Asia.’ His eyes flickered to her face, his expression troubled. ‘The three spears of the trishula are said to represent the trinities of nature, namely creation, preservation, and—’

  ‘Destruction,’ said Reznak. A somber hush fell inside the cabin. ‘According to Abbot Kelsang, one of the oldest Nyingma scriptures ever discovered indicates that Rinpoche chose the trishula as the symbol of his order based on a tale related to him by the first immortal he met.’

  Her godfather’s voice grew strained as he continued talking. ‘Though many of his followers considered the story to be a fanciful myth, Rinpoche was confident that the legend was based in fact. The tale was about an incredible female warrior of ancient times who defeated the original immortals. This warrior was thought to have been of Crovir’s bloodline and fought with the very first trident weapon ever seen. The immortal who recounted this story told Rinpoche that the descendants of the warrior still walked the Earth and would do so until the end of days—and that there may come a time when the warrior’s soul will be reborn within the immortal bloodlines. Rinpoche promised that if such an age ever came, his order would lay down their lives for this immortal.’

  Yonten’s expression turned solemn and he gazed at Alexa with eyes that seemed to penetrate her very core. She slowly released the breath she had been holding and met his stare unflinchingly.

  ‘That’s—’ said Jackson.

  ‘Do you really believe this?’ Alexa interrupted in a hard tone, her eyes not shifting from the monk’s face.

  It was several seconds before Reznak replied. ‘I only found out about the Abbot’s order last night, and I spoke to him for the first time today. But I will vouch for Victor Dvorsky, the Bastian who told me about Abbot Kelsang, with my own life.’ He sighed. ‘There’s also the matter of the engraving we discovered in the floor of the second cave.’

  Jackson raised his eyebrows. ‘What engraving?’

  Alexa was still digesting her godfather’s words as she turned to the computer and opened a file. She had heard of Victor Dvorsky, the former Head of the Bastian Counter Terrorism Section and current leader of the Bastian race, but had never met the immortal noble in person. That Reznak trusted him to such an extent was yet another remarkable truth she had learned about him in the last week. She wondered how many more secrets he had kept from her.

  She shifted the screen and brought up the images of the trishula marking in the floor of the smaller cave in Egypt.

  Jackson paled as he stared at the marking. His stunned gaze moved to her face briefly before returning to the display.

  ‘Members of Abbot Kelsang’s order have been aware of the Rose Croix sect for some time, ever since an important artifact was stolen from their monastery three hundred years ago,’ said Reznak. ‘The Abbot is also of the impression that the sect’s activities have increased in the last century and escalated exponentially over the past five decades. However, I do believe he was unaware that the sect members were of a pureblood immortal-human lineage.’

  ‘Mr. Crovir is right,’ said Yonten with a gracious nod.

  Reznak sighed again. ‘Jackson, have you found anything new in the files you took from Lorenzio’s office?’

  ‘Not yet,’ replied Jackson.

  ‘Keep working on it,’ said Reznak curtly. ‘I’ll speak to the First Council. We have to decide what to do about the Rose Croix sect’s potential plans. We also have to clear things with the Vatican. Your faces have already made it into Interpol’s criminal database.’

  A buzz rose from the speakers after he disconnected.

  Having operated below the radar of the human authorities for almost three centuries, Alexa was not pleased to have achieved this level of notoriety in so short a time. But she was hardly surprised after their actions at the Vatican; they had not exactly been subtle. Nonetheless, the fact remained that this latest development could lead to unnecessary complications. She did not want to have to hurt the human agents who might get in her path. Her irritation with the Rose Croix sect rose another notch.

  She looked at the monk. ‘What was taken from your monastery?’

  ‘A relic bestowed on us by an immortal,’ said Yonten calmly. He closed his eyes and assumed a meditative pose once more.

  Alexa suspected that was all he was going to say for some time. She turned her attention to the CCTV footage. Though she did her best to try and ignore the most recent revelations imparted by Reznak, the image of the trishula mark on the monk’s palm kept flashing through her mind.

  Was it a coincidence that she had chosen to carry a pair of sai daggers even before she became an agent for the Crovir First Council?

  Alexa could recall with crystal clarity the first time she had ever laid eyes on the weapons as a child. They had seemed strangely familiar even then, like they belonged in her hands. And there was no doubt that she fought with them like they were extensions of her very being.

  She frowned and concentrated on the recordings.

  It was another hour before she found something useful in the films. Her fingers stilled on the keyboard.

  A frozen screenshot showed Lorenzio’s killer getting into a van on the Via della Conciliazione moments after he had fled St. Peter’s Square. She zoomed in on the grainy picture. Half of the vehicle’s registration number was visible. The image had also caught the reflection of a face in the side mirror of the van.

  A thrill ran through Alexa when she recognized the coarse features of Boyko Dragov. She picked up the phone and called the Crovir techs.

  ‘There’s no vehicle matching that description and partial number plate?’ she said into the handset a couple of minutes later. Somehow, this fact did not surprise her. ‘I want you to run that combination through every number plate recognition software we have. Call me if you get any hits.’ She disconnected and turned to look at Jackson. ‘Have you got anywhere with those yet?’ she asked, indicating the documents on his lap.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ he replied with a frown. ‘The folder contains reports of the sect’s suspected deeds, as well as the minutes of the meetings Lorenzio’s commission had with the Pope. There’s also another drawing by him.’ He removed a thick, yellow sheet from the pile and placed it on the table between them.

  Alexa stared at the watercolor painting on the faded parchment.

  ‘I know I’ve seen it somewhere before,’ said Jackson, frustration evident in his tone.

  The sketch was of a pretty, small flower with five petals. Lorenzio had shaded the corolla a pale blue and the c
enter golden.

  Yonten opened his eyes and glanced at the illustration. ‘Myosotis scorpioides,’ he murmured and closed his eyes once more.

  There was a noise behind them. Carrington strolled down the aisle from the direction of the cockpit. ‘We cleared Italian airspace a while back. Fawkes wants to know where we’re headed.’

  Alexa ignored the immortal and gazed unblinkingly at Jackson.

  The Harvard professor was staring at the monk with a glazed expression. ‘What did you say?’ he whispered.

  ‘Myosotis scorpioides,’ repeated Yonten calmly. ‘The—’

  ‘Forget-me-not flower!’ Jackson interjected feverishly. His ice-blue gaze glinted as it moved to her face. ‘The Freemasons.’

  She watched while he rifled frantically through the contents of the document wallet. Seconds later, his fingers stilled on a file.

  ‘In December 1995, there was a major incident at the Freemasons’ Grand Lodge of Scotland,’ said Jackson. He glanced at her while he spoke. ‘It resulted in several deaths and was thought to have been a botched robbery by the local police. Lorenzio’s commission concluded that it was probably a failed attempt by the Rose Croix sect to steal something of value from one of the private Freemason collections held at the Lodge.’

  Alexa drummed the fingers of her right hand on the table. ‘Have there been any other incidents involving the Freemasons since then?’

  ‘No,’ he replied. He stiffened suddenly, his gaze locked on a distant memory. ‘But I know where security has recently been heightened in the Freemasons’ world; the United Grand Lodge of England in London. Just last month, a friend told me he had great difficulty gaining access to their old records.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ she asked carefully.

  ‘There’s a good chance the Freemasons would have moved whatever object the Rose Croix sect was looking for in Scotland around their numerous Lodges across the globe. But none is more sacred or well guarded than the Freemasons’ Hall, the headquarters of the United Grand Lodge of England. Even if the item the Rose Croix sect was after is no longer there, their archives may hold more information on the group.’