“You’re doing it again.”
“What?”
“Being pedantic. Meanwhile, we’re tied up with crazy killers down the hall.”
“Yeah. I hadn’t forgotten that.”
They spent the rest of the night shifting fitfully in the chairs, dozing on and off.
When the first rays of sunlight came through the window, they heard movement in the hallway.
“Hey, anyone out there?” Jade shouted.
The door opened, and the guard came in.
“I need to go to the bathroom,” Jade said. “Do you understand?”
The man shook his head. “Nein, nein.”
Jade put on her meanest look and shouted, “Sol, schnell.”
The man hesitated, then left the room, locking the door behind him. Marcas turned to Jade.
“Is that the best you’ve got? I mean, doesn’t embassy security implant some secret GPS emitter in the heel of your shoe or something like that?”
“Yeah, right. And you, don’t you have some telepathic connection with the Grand Architect of the Universe who could alert your brothers?”
“What a couple we are,” Marcas said. He looked at Jade and saw how pale she was. He didn’t want to think about how ghoulish he looked. He needed a shave, and he probably had dark rings under his eyes.
The key turned in the keyhole, and the door opened. The guard appeared with Joana.
“Sol is still resting. I’m here. Talk,” she said, walking over to Jade, who reared back.
“We want to go to the bathroom and wash up,” Marcas said.
Joana took cutters out of her pocket. “We’re not monsters. Klaus will go with you, but first, I will borrow one of your girlfriend’s little fingers. The gardener’s not entitled to all the fun.”
Before Jade had time to react, Joana clipped off the finger. Jade shrieked in pain. Marcas fought to free himself.
“Stop!”
“Shut up, dog. That is nothing, compared to what she did to me,” Joana said, holding up her crushed hand. “Soon enough, when we are done with you, she will beg me to kill her.”
Jade kept screaming in pain.
66
The candles illuminated the small crypt under the castle. Loki was contemplating the piece of black marble engraved with a circular swastika. It was used in the solstice ceremonies. He hadn’t had any news from Sol in twenty-four hours and was beginning to worry about his daughter. His fellow board members had been looking at him oddly since his last conversation with Sol. It didn’t matter. He’d be rid of all those incompetents soon enough.
Heimdall had wanted to speak to him alone.
Loki heard heavy footsteps echo in the stone stairwell. He turned and saw Heimdall with a security guard.
“I thought you were coming alone.”
“Loki is the trickster god. I never forget that. Operation Hiram is canceled.”
Loki moved closer to the altar. “How is that? Sol will be furious.”
The two men came toward him. “The board took a vote earlier.”
“Impossible. I wasn’t there.”
“You are no longer part of the Thule.”
Loki regretted not having a weapon with him. “That can’t be.”
“Your cell phone was tapped. We’re aware of Sol’s intentions: the night of long knives. You can understand our displeasure.”
He heard other footsteps. Two armed men entered the crypt. Loki held onto the altar.
“You don’t understand. Operation Hiram is vital for the Thule.”
“Sol is a senile old man chasing ghosts, and he nearly got us made by the French police. He has committed too many errors. These Freemason assassinations are stupid. As for his Palestinian killer, it wouldn’t have taken much for the Israelis to connect him to us. Have you forgotten von Sebottendorf’s principles? Our strength lies in our invisibility. That is how we prosper and remain untouchable.”
“I know that better than you.”
“Enough. Orders have been given to get rid of Sol and your daughter, as well as their prisoners. As for you, we’re going to take you to see your friend.”
Loki stared at him, uncomprehending.
“A maiden.”
“You can’t!”
“The Iron Maiden.”
67
Sol came in next.
“I’m hoping you’ll be amenable to talking now.”
“You’re animals,” Marcas said.
“Joana, show him our merciful side, would you? Bandage up the woman’s hand.” Then Sol focused on Marcas. “The original plan was to organize a full Orden solstice ritual in June, but our schedule has been bumped up. I need your input.”
“Never.”
“My brother — if I may call you that — how much would you like to see this woman of yours suffer?”
Marcas glared at him.
“Our friend Breuil talks about a temple with a pit and a plant. Where do you think we can find that?”
Marcas had already given this some thought, but he was still confused. He glanced at Jade. Her eyes were pleading. He turned to Joanna, who was fiddling with the pruners.
Marcas looked Sol in the eye. “Okay, let’s go over what we know. In Breuil’s ritual, there was a bush with exposed roots, something about life coming from underground to reach the heavens. And we have the brew. That’s not a lot to go on.”
“I’m sure your advanced Masonic knowledge will help you find the answer.”
“There wasn’t anything else about the ritual per se, but he did pay attention to the bitter drink. If I recall, he said that initiation had become a parody.”
“Initiation?” Jade managed to say.
Marcas looked at her. Something clicked. “Yes, initiation. That’s it. The four elements are key to initiation: fire, air, water, earth. Fire, Saint Anthony’s fire, ergot; air, Amanita muscaria, the fly amanita; and water, the primordial element. In the Bvitti cult, iboga led initiates back to the roots of their existence.”
“And earth?” Sol asked.
“Earth would be the place of preparation and passage.”
“So we dig a pit?” Joana said.
“The pit was symbolic,” Marcas answered. “You’d want some sanctuary, a temple, or, I suppose, a cave. Prehistoric people used them for religious rituals. Some scholars believe painted caves were sacred spaces reserved for connecting with another dimension, like our temples.”
Sol was smiling now. “So we need a cave-temple. And as I’ll be communing with the gods, I want the best possible cave-temple. What do you suggest?”
Marcas was drawing a blank.
“Well?” Sol said. He turned to Joana, “You may be in for some more fun.”
Marcas’s eyes darted from Jade to Sol and Joana as he tried to come up a cave-temple. “You said we’re in Perigord?”
“Not exactly, but close enough.”
His mind was racing: Perigord, southwestern France, truffles, foie gras, Sarlat, Dordogne. “Lascaux,” he finally said.
Sol’s eyes gleamed. “I was right about you, Inspector. Lascaux is perfect. It’s the Sistine Chapel of prehistory. A singular place, ideal for testing the soma of the gods.”
68
The convoy was ready. There had been some commotion in the afternoon, when Hans came and went again. Sol had decided to delay their departure until evening. He wanted to avoid the tourists and Lascaux workers. He needed privacy for his ritual. Sol was wearing a satisfied look as the prisoners, still bound, were brought outside. He nodded at Klaus, the guard, who freed Marcas’s hands and then pointed a gun at Zewinski.