“I find you very philosophical today,” Marcas said, getting up.
“No coffee?”
“No, not now.”
“I think I’ll stay a little. I’d like to become more familiar with Catalonia,” Mareuil said, winking at Marcas and giving the waitress a look.
Marcas headed toward the door.
“Antoine?”
“Yes?”
“Jade is a pretty name.”
24
Joana groaned as she put down Jade Zewinski’s file. Why was it that beauty was always a chief factor in a man’s description of a woman? Zewinski’s biography was exhaustive, and Orden’s quick response was commendable. But the man who had put it together couldn’t restrain himself. “An attractive, athletic body and a pleasant face,” he had written.
Males could be such cavemen. When a man was describing another man, looks were never considered. A recent target — a Danish arms dealer — was on the verge of obesity, with a face as ugly as they came, and his file never mentioned either of those things. Unimportant details, apparently.
Sol had been very clear on the phone.
“Get the papers. If possible, don’t harm the woman. We don’t want to ruffle any feathers in the French government. But remember, those documents are the key to a new future for the Orden and for the pure race as a whole. If physical elimination is necessary, so be it. Do you understand?”
“I won’t fail you again,” she had answered.
Joana gazed at the waters of the bay outside the window. She respected Sol but didn’t trust him. He was one of a handful of men behind the renewal of the Thule and a survivor of an earlier day. In a month and a half, the solstice would be celebrated in Hvar, and Sol had promised an unforgettable event. What exactly was he planning? And just how strong was his hold on the organization?
But for now, she needed to sleep. She would leave the castle at six in the morning, taking an Orden helicopter to Zagreb, where she would grab a flight to Paris. Her hotel room was already reserved. She thought about Zewinski and the fun it would be to take her on. Sophie’s murder had been a formality, but Zewinski seemed tougher. She fell asleep right away, her mind and body emptied, dreaming of another prey.
HEKEL
The holy place
The middle chamber
“Why were you made a Mason?”
“For the sake of the Letter G.”
“What does it signify?”
“Geometry.”
“Why geometry?”
“Because it is the root and foundation of all Arts and Sciences.”
25
A soft wind caressed the leaves of the sycamore trees that had escaped Paris’s gardeners and their pruning rage. Marcas recalled a childhood image of endless streets shaded by the light green of these familiar trees.
A sense of deep lethargy enveloped the neighborhood around the Marché Saint Pierre as the first rays of sunshine gave the sparse clouds above the capital a mauve tinge. Marcas observed the play of colors on the horizon and remembered a discussion with an American police officer — also a Freemason — whom he had met at an international conference. They had talked about the importance of the Orient, the East, in the Freemason initiation rite, when the worshipful master would say, “As the sun rises in the East to rule and govern the day, so rises the worshipful master in the Orient to rule and govern the lodge.”
Marcas liked the allegories that gave precise and even exquisite meaning to events that many people rarely thought about — the sunrise, for example. Every day, light spread from the East, and in the lodge, meetings would begin with the illumination at the east side of the temple.
He experienced a few moments of serenity every time he watched the sun come up. There was nothing magical about the sunrise, but rather a kind of sacred geometry, a mathematical ballet related to the location of the observer, the angle of the sun, and the angle of the darkness. And then the clouds would come into play. It was a phenomenon that involved much more than the sense of sight. Poet Charles Baudelaire had put it this way: “Sound calls to fragrance, color calls to sound.”
Alas, fragrances were not in harmony with the beauty of the sky on this morning. Marcas had to sidestep a steaming and smelly pile of dog excrement on the sidewalk. It was seven o’clock, when man’s best friends took to the streets to empty their intestines under the watchful eyes of their masters. He had just passed a weasel-faced man dragging a grumpy-looking dog.
He turned onto the Rue André-del-Sarte. At the end of the street was the Rue Foyatier stairway to Montmartre, which was popular with tourists and filmmakers looking for an iconic Parisian venue. The steps ended at Sacré Coeur. A real postcard.
The square was empty, and only the Botak Café was open. The staff had already set out chairs that would be filled with tourists and regulars come eleven. He waved to the waitress and ordered his morning drug: strong hot chocolate — lots of cacao thinned with skim milk. Marcas liked coffee well enough, but he always started the day with hot chocolate.
He pulled out the diary and reread the passages that had caught his attention the previous night.
June 14, 1940
The Germans are parading triumphantly down the Champs-Elysées. Who would have thought it possible? Had lunch with Badcan at the Petit Richet. The atmosphere was dreary. A couple of men had drunk too much and shouted that France deserves this, that Jews and Freemasons will be brought in line. We didn’t say anything. What good would it have done? I didn’t have the strength to go to the hospital and visit the sick. There were speeches on the radio. We can only hope that Marshal Pétain will shield France from Hitler’s hordes and those pulling the strings.
June 15, 1940
Worshipful Master Bertier came early this morning, around seven. He was angry and nearly frantic. The Germans showed up last night on the Rue Cadet and locked the entrance to the Grand Orient Lodge. Nobody can enter. Practically all of our archives are still inside. We didn’t have time to get them out. We’ve been struck dumb by this defeat. It’s an unprecedented disaster for the order. Meanwhile, the Grande Loge de France was raided.
August 20, 1940
A ban on secret societies took effect five days ago, and now Marshal Pétain has closed all Freemason lodges. A long, dark night for Freemasons is beginning. Government officials must declare any Freemason allegiance.
October 30, 1940
My hospital privileges have been revoked. It was suggested that I take time off. A long time off. There’s a rumor that some lodges are meeting in secret. The Germans have ordered all Jews to register or risk prosecution. Brothers in the police force are doing their best to alter the records, but most of their colleagues are quite zealous. I fear the subterfuge will soon be detected.
December 21, 1940
Darkness has invaded the world, but light is eternal. We have already put together a dozen meeting places to replace our lodges in and around Paris. What a relief! Had dinner with Michel Dumesnil de Grammont, who is part of the Masonic resistance called Patriam Recuperare. He introduced me to a brother who had a determined look in his eye. His name is Jean Moulin. We embraced before saying good-bye. The fight will be long and hard.
The Pétainists have instituted no fewer than three organizations to keep tabs on us and study what they’ve plundered. Bernard Fay, who runs the national library, heads up the regime’s Secret Societies Department. He’s an ardent monarchist, a salon scholar who has hated us for a long time. He even dared to set up his headquarters in our lodge on the Rue Cadet. He’s busy working on the few archival documents that the Germans didn’t take with them. Next, the Department of Banned Associations is run by a Paris police chief. He and his henchmen can search the offices and homes of brothers whenever they want. Finally, there is the Research Department, which reports directly to Pétain’s inner circle. Its primary focus is political activities. According to a number of well-informed brothers, the first two organizations are under tight German control. The Germans have also set up headquarters in the lodge on the Rue Cadet, but it is on a different floor.