He crawled to the door and peered beneath. Still quiet. He propped himself against the door.
"There's something else," she said.
He was listening.
"The prime meridian. Virtually every country that eventually sailed the seas developed one. There had to be a longitudinal starting point. Finally, in 1884, the major nations of the world met in Washington, DC, and chose a line through Greenwich as zero degree longitude. A world constant, and we've used it ever since. But the portolans tell a different story. Amazingly, they all seemed to use a point thirty-one degrees, eight minutes west as their zero line."
He did not comprehend the significance of those coordinates, other than they were east of Greenwich, somewhere beyond Greece.
"That line runs straight through the Great Pyramid at Giza," she said. "At that same 1884 conference in Washington, an argument was made to run the zero line through that point, but was rejected."
He didn't see the point.
"The portolans I found all utilized the concept of longitude. Don't get me wrong, those ancient maps did not contain latitude and longitude lines like we know today. They used a simpler method, choosing a center point, then drawing a circle around it and dividing the circle. They would keep doing that outward, generating a crude form of measurement. Each of those portolans I mentioned used the same center. A point in Egypt, near what's now Cairo, where the Giza pyramid stands."
A pile of coincidences, he had to admit.
"That longitude line through Giza runs south into Antarctica exactly where the Nazis explored in 1938, their Neuschwabenland." She paused. "Grandfather and Father both were aware of this. I was first introduced to these concepts from reading their notes."
"I thought your grandfather was senile."
"He left some historical notes. Not a lot. Father, too. I only wish they both would have spoken of this pursuit more."
"This is nuts," he said.
"How many scientific realities today started out the same way? It's not nuts. It's real. There's something out there, waiting to be found."
Which his father may have died searching for.
He glanced at his watch. "We can probably head downstairs. I need to check a few things."
He came to one knee and pushed himself off the floor. But she stopped him, her hand on his trouser leg. He'd listened to her explanations and concluded that she was not a crackpot.
"I appreciate what you're doing," she said, keeping her voice hushed.
"I haven't done anything."
"You're here."
"As you made clear, what happened to my father is wrapped up in this."
She leaned close and kissed him, lingering long enough for him to know that she was enjoying it.
"Do you always kiss on the first date?" he asked her.
"Only men I like."
FORTY-TWO
DOROTHEA STOOD IN SHOCK, STERLING WILKERSON'S DEAD EYES staring up at her.
"You killed him?" she asked her husband.
Werner shook his head. "Not me. But I was there when it happened." He slammed the trunk shut. "I never knew your father, but I'm told he and I are much alike. We allow our wives to do as they please, provided we're afforded the same luxury."
Her mind filled with a swarm of confusing thoughts. "How do you know anything of my father?"
"I told him," a new voice said.
She whirled.
Her mother stood in the church doorway. Behind her, as always, loomed Ulrich Henn. Now she knew.
"Ulrich killed Sterling," she said to the night.
Werner brushed by her. "Indeed. And I daresay he might kill us all, if we don't behave."
MALONE LED THE WAY OUT OF THEIR HIDING PLACE, BACK INTO the octagon's upper gallery. He paused at the bronze railing-Carolingian, he recalled Christl noting, original to the time of Charlemagne-and gazed below. A handful of wall sconces burned as night-lights. Wind continued to wreak havoc against the outer walls, and the Christmas market seemed to be losing enthusiasm. He focused across the open space at the throne on the far side, backdropped by mullioned windows that splashed a luminous glow over the elevated chair. He studied the Latin mosaic that wrapped the octagon below. Einhard's challenge wasn't all that challenging.
Thank goodness for guidebooks and smart women.
He stared at Christl. "There's a pulpit, right?"
She nodded. "In the choir. The ambo. Quite old. Eleventh century." He smiled. "Always a history lesson."
She shrugged. "It's what I know."
He circled the upper gallery, passed the throne, and headed back down the circular staircase. Interestingly, the iron gate was left open at night. At ground level he traversed the octagon and reentered the choir. A gilded copper pulpit dotted with unique ornamentations perched against the south wall, above an entrance to another of the side chapels. A short staircase led up. He hopped a velvet rope and climbed wooden runners. Luckily what he was looking for was there. A Bible.
He laid the book on the gilded lectern and opened to Revelation. chapter 21.
Christl stood below and gazed up at him as he read out loud.
"And he carried me away in the spirit to a great and high mountain, and showed me that great city, the holy Jerusalem, descending out of heaven from God, which had a wall great and high, and twelve gates, and at the gates twelve angels, and names written thereon, which are the names of the twelve tribes of the children of Israel. And the wall of the city had twelve foundations, and in them the names of the twelve apostles of the Lamb. And he that talked with me had a golden reed to measure the city, and the gates thereof, and the wall thereof. And the city lieth foursquare, and the length is as large as the breadth, and he measured the city with the reed, twelve thousand furlongs. The length and the breadth and the height of it are equal. And he measured the wall thereof, a hundred and forty and four cubits, according to the measure of a man, that is, of the angel. And the foundations of the wall of the city were garnished with twelve precious stones. And the twelve gates were twelve pearls.
"Revelation is critical to this place. The chandelier Emperor Bar-barossa donated quotes from it. The mosaic in the dome is based on it. Charlemagne specifically called this his 'new Jerusalem.' And this connection is no secret-I read about it in all the guidebooks. One Carolingian foot equaled about one-third of a meter, which is just a bit more than today's foot. The outer sixteen-sided polygon is thirty-six Carolingian feet in length. That translates to one hundred forty-four of today's feet. The octagon's outer perimeter is the same, thirty-six Carolingian feet, which is a hundred forty of today's feet. The height is also precise. Originally eighty-four of today's feet, without the helmet dome, which came centuries later. The entire chapel is a factor of seven and twelve, its breadth and height equal." He pointed to the Bible. "They simply transposed the dimensions of the celestial city from Revelation, the 'new Jerusalem,' into this edifice."
"That's been studied for centuries," she said. "How does it relate to what we're doing?"
"Remember what Einhard wrote. Revelations there will be clear once the secret of that wondrous place is deciphered. He used that word cleverly. Not only is Revelation clear."
He pointed to the Bible.
"But other revelations are clear, too."
FOR THE FIRST TIME IN YEARS DOROTHEA FELT OUT OF CONTROL. She'd seen none of this coming. And now, standing back inside the church, facing her mother and husband, Ulrich Henn obedient and off to the side, she fought to keep her usual composure.
"Don't mourn the loss of that American," Isabel said. "He was an opportunist."
She faced Werner. "And you're not?"
"I'm your husband."
"In name only."
"That's by your choosing," Isabel said, voice rising, then paused. "I understand about Georg." The old woman's gaze drifted toward the side chapel. "I miss him, too. But he's gone and there's nothing any of us can do about it."