“How’d that work?”
“The molecules in the plants have a chemical structure similar to neurotransmitters. They basically replace the brain’s neurotransmitters, causing what you might call a big bang in the head.”
Zewinski looked at the mural again. “Is there anything else to discover?”
“Sophie came here and found something else. But what? It must be in the details. There must be some coded formula or a partial one, probably in numbers.”
Zewinski stared at the wall. “For the code to the safe at the embassy, Sophie insisted on using the Templar spelling of the word Plaincourault. She added two letters to get fifteen.”
Marcas bit his lip. “What if we focus on the number fifteen in this mural. There are five mushroom caps atop five stems.”
Zewinski shook her head. “No, look. Two other thinner stems branch off from the central trunk and support the main cap. That’s five caps and seven stems.”
Marcas scratched his head. “Five and seven. We don’t have fifteen.”
Jade grinned. “I know. Five plus seven plus three equal fifteen. So three would be the number. Look, the snake is wrapped around the stem three times.”
“Congratulations. A-plus in symbolism.”
“So why three numbers?”
“My turn now. In Freemasonry, every grade or degree is symbolized by a number: three for the entered apprentice, five for fellowcraft, and seven for master.”
“I gather that each ingredient gets a number: three for one, five for the other, and seven for the third. But which ingredient gets which number?”
“Good question, but what I want to know is this: where’s the pit? Breuil underscores the importance of the pit, where the roots take hold. It was only in the birth of life underground that the seven heavens could be attained. The key enlightenment lay in the earth, or the womb, or something of that nature.”
“Could three, five, and seven help us find it?”
Marcas and Zewinski began counting steps from the base of the mushroom in various directions, testing different combinations of the numbers.
“Maybe the numbers have nothing to do with it,” Zewinski finally said. “You and your Freemason symbolism bull are getting us nowhere.”
Marcas moved back to the mushroom and started feeling the wall.
“Hold your horses,” Zewinski said. “You may be a cop, but this is historical property that belongs to the people of France, and you’re getting your greasy fingers all over it.”
Marcas smiled but continued working on the flagstones at the base of the fresco. “Look, one is crooked. Give me a hand.”
Zewinski looked around the chapel for a tool and found a candle snuffer. She gave it to Marcas, and he pried the stone up, using the snuffer’s long handle. Something in a dirty canvas-like cloth was under the stone.
“Well, look at that.”
Marcas unwrapped two wax-sealed vials containing a murky liquid.
“Do you suppose that’s the God brew?” Zewinski asked.
“Anything is possible.”
Marcas sat down on the step beneath the altar. The heat collected in the building’s thick stone walls during the day was dissipating. Zewinski sat down next to him, and he became very aware of her presence.
Jade was looking at the night sky through one of the narrow windows. It was dark inside, except for the glow of the flashlight on the floor.
“What a perfect place for this mysterious crap,” Jade said. “I can just see the knights in their long capes kneeling before this heretical painting.” She shivered. “And we’re still no closer to finding Sophie’s murderer.”
Silence filled the chapel. Marcas put his arm around her. Jade took his hand and moved closer.
No sooner had she done this than a voice rang out in the darkness. “Look at that. Adam and Eve back together in front of the Tree of Knowledge. What a scene.”
63
Marcas and Jade shielded their eyes from the harsh light the man was aiming at them.
“Fly amanita grows in round formations called witches circles,” the man said. “This region has always been known for its witches. Leave the vials where they are, and put your hands up. Now slowly move away from the painting.”
Four threatening figures moved toward them, one limping. Marcas regretted leaving his gun in the glove compartment of his car.
The group stopped in front of them, where Marcas and Jade could make out their faces. In the middle was an older man with white hair and an expressionless face. Jade recognized the person to his left: Joana, who was waving her bandaged hand. On the other side of the leader was a younger man with short hair and a detached look in his eyes. He was pointing a MP5 submachine gun with a sound suppressor in their direction. The fourth man stood in the shadows. The leader lowered his flashlight.
“I happened to overhear your fascinating conversation about the amanita. Its nefarious reputation as a poisonous mushroom dates to the beginnings of Christianity. But before Christianity took root, it was considered the plant of immortality. It was used as early as the latter part of the Paleolithic Period. You mentioned God’s flesh. Shamans and pagan priests venerated each mushroom as a little piece of divinity on earth. But when the Church took power, these mushrooms became witches ware. Did you know that Saint Augustine wrote a text denouncing the use of these very special plants? But I’m digressing. Klaus, can you hold my flashlight?”
Rubbing his hands together, the old man stepped in front of the fresco.
“Absolute blasphemy. A hallucinogenic mushroom replacing the apple. The knights were taking a great risk during the Inquisition.”
“Who are you?” Marcas asked.
The white-haired man continued to contemplate the painting. “My name is Sol. That name means nothing to you, but the name of my order should.”
“The Thule, right?”
The old man turned around. “Good. Very good. So there really are a few Freemasons who know something about world history. For that matter, I want to thank you, Inspector. We started following you after your tête-à-tête at the Interior Ministry. What interesting meetings you’ve had, especially at the Grand Orient Lodge. You were such an easy target. We stayed on your tail, even when you were picking up your charming friend not so far from our compound. If it hadn’t been for you, we wouldn’t be here having this nice little chat. And I wouldn’t have found what I was looking for.”
Sol picked up the vials, his eyes glistening.
Marcas spoke in a matter-of-fact tone. “So you weren’t surprised by the presence of this mushroom.”
“No, I figured it would be one of the ingredients in the brew. Fly amanita contains ibotenic acid and muscimol, long-range missiles that directly target neurons. I was hoping to know how much of each ingredient to use, but now, because you’re so clever, we have something even better: the actual mixture. Hans, take it to the team and have them make up a fresh brew.”
Sol turned back to Marcas and Jade. “All we need is to do now is lay the groundwork for the ritual.”
Joana interrupted, “Leave the girl to me. I’ll take care of her.”
The old man raised a hand. “Later. We’ll keep our Adam and Eve together for a moment. I still need the Mason for the ritual. We’ll be having a very special ceremony.”
Marcas interrupted. “Then what? Will you kill us? Like Hiram?”
Sol’s lips curled into a smile. “Perhaps. But we’re not there yet. Let’s go.”
The bodyguard moved toward them.
“Who are you, really?” Jade’s voice echoed in the chapel.
“My real name? It’s François Le Guermand, once French, like you.”
“And now?”
“Nationality is of no importance. Only race counts.”