Jade lit a cigarette, took a long drag, and spoke again, “So where does France come in? How did your club of English buddies contaminate our country? Oh, sorry, how did they bring their light to France?”
“The English were in the midst of a war that pitted the Catholic House of Stuart against the Protestant House of Hanover. King James II, a Catholic, was forced to flee to France. He took up residence in Saint-Germain-en-Laye, where his followers came to be known as Jacobites. The Jacobites founded the first French lodge in 1726 in Paris, in the back room of an English butcher shop on the Rue des Boucheries.”
“So we could have called you the free butchers.”
“How enlightened of you. The Grande Loge of France was officially created but soon became the subject of a power struggle between the Jacobites and the Hanoverians, who still had strong supporters in England. The Jacobites were nobles, very attached to their privileges and also very religious. The Jacobites even sought protection from the pope before disappearing for good when the House of Stuarts failed to win back the throne of England.”
The MG moved forward about ten feet.
“If the Freemasons were aristocrats, how is it that they were responsible for the French Revolution?”
“That’s another legend that won’t die. Let’s just say that during the first third of the eighteenth century, freemasonry was taking root in France. The duke of Antin was named the first French grand master in 1738, and the order became established throughout France, drawing the elite: nobles, musicians, merchants, army officers, and enlightened clergy. As lodges opened in the provinces, diverging movements arose, the same way diverging forces emerge in political parties.”
“When was the Grand Orient founded?”
All this storytelling was diverting Marcas from his headache, which actually seemed to be going away. He beginning to enjoy himself. He liked talking about Freemason history, especially the tales from the seventeenth century, when the Age of Enlightenment was starting to take hold, and absolutism was wavering for the first time.
“During a conflict of influence, the federating Grande Loge de France disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared, and in 1773 the Grand Orient de France was founded in a second attempt to centralize French freemasonry.”
“Fighting among the brothers is nothing new, then?”
“True enough. That’s why the myth of the great Masonic conspiracy doesn’t hold water. There’s never been a supreme grand master or any kind of Masonic vatican that gave orders to all the lodges.”
The car behind them was honking. Zewinski had missed the green light.
“But you really were behind the French Revolution, weren’t you?”
Marcas decided to have a cigarette too. He lit one and continued. “Yes and no. At the time, only the well-to-do frequented the lodges, although there were some from the third estate: artists, writers, and the petite bourgeoisie. In 1789, France had nearly thirty thousand Freemasons, but they weren’t revolutionaries thirsty for blood.
The MG finally arrived at the Place Charles-de-Gaulle.
“In the vote to put King Louis XVI to death, the Freemasons were divided, nearly half for and half against. Freemasonry never promoted any kind of extremism. But it’s also true that Freemason lodges supported the ideals of an egalitarian society. Still, even if there were more Freemasons in the latter group than in the former, they never deserved the blame for the Reign of Terror, which the Church and the aristocracy promulgated. They needed a scapegoat, and the Masons fit the bill.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. I thought Robespierre was a hoodwinker, but you’d prefer to boast about having the good guys, like Montesquieu, Mozart, and Voltaire, and kept quiet about the crazies who’ve been Freemasons.”
“History is full of depraved individuals. Should the Catholic Church be forever condemned for the Spanish Inquisitor Tomas de Torquemada?”
“Yeah, yeah.”
Jade put on her turn signal.
Marcas continued. “Did you know that the Place Charles-de-Gaulle was built to glorify Emperor Napoléon and is full of Masonic allusions?”
“No wonder driving around it is so chaotic, with cars coming from every which way. What a mess,” Zewinski said. She was busy trying to keep an SUV from cutting her off.
“The Arc de Triomphe celebrates Empire victories and was built by a Freemason architect. Look at it closely, and you’ll see key symbols. The bas-reliefs are plain as day to any initiate. And the avenues that lead away from the Arc de Triomphe bear the names of marshals who served during the Empire. Eighteen of the twenty-six were Freemasons.”
“Are there lots of places like this?”
“Yes. Go take a look at the Vivienne and Colbert arcades, and you’ll find bas-reliefs of beehives and other Freemason symbols.”
Jade stepped on the gas to cut off a motorcyclist and turned onto the Avenue Hoche, which she took as far as the Parc Monceau.
“Oh, and there’s the Parc Monceau. Take the south alley, and you’ll find a small pyramid built by a brother right after—”
“Enough already! I get it. Class over. My head is going to explode.”
Just when his was feeling good again.
They turned onto the Rue de Courcelles and then veered onto the Rue Daru, where Zewinski pulled up to a small gray parking garage. She pressed the entry button and headed down the ramp to four unoccupied spaces that were marked off with faded yellow paint.
“Follow me. We have work to do.”
Marcas took his time getting out of the car. Out of principle. He didn’t want her to get the idea that he was jumping to her orders.
“I have what it takes to motivate you, Inspector.”
“Is that so? What is it?”
Zewinski didn’t say anything for several seconds. As he took his time, she stepped into the elevator. He was still fifteen feet away when she pressed the button and threw out, “I thought you wanted to see the documents Sophie had with her. I’ve got a copy upstairs.”
Marcas swore under his breath and ran to catch the elevator before the doors closed.
28
The elevator squeaked. The paint was peeling off the walls. The carpet in the hallway was threadbare, and the musty smell grew stronger the closer they got to the office.
Marcas understood the reason for the smell as soon as he entered the spacious room. It had obviously been used for storage, and even though much of the disparate collection had been pushed to the back of the room to make space for a few desks, insane odds and ends were all over the place: identity photos, disarticulated skulls, measuring instruments, and, on one of the walls, a poster with a caricature of the devil, its talons grasping the globe, with a single word: Juden. Worshipful master cords and a broken stone sculpture lay in a sagging armchair. Discarded on the floor were pasteboard suns and moons. Marcas had a queasy feeling as he closed the door. The room felt like a dank tomb.
Zewinski sat down in a chair behind one of the desks and slowly stretched out her legs, crossing them at the ankle. “Impressive, don’t you think? Nothing has changed.”
“I thought it had all been—”
“Destroyed? No, not at all.”
“How disgusting.”
“The Gestapo occupied this building, and the Ministry of Defense got it back when the war ended. It doesn’t have any administrative function these days. It’s used mainly by black ops. As for the junk, nobody ever did anything with it.”