Another mad man, Cædmon mused as he rubbed his bloody finger against his trouser leg. It was a warm day and his shirt was soaked through with perspiration. He was half tempted to disrobe and fling the drenched garment over the edge like one of Rousseau’s rocks.
Rested, he hefted the rucksack on to his shoulders. Turning towards the granite crag, he continued to climb. Extending. Then pulling. Occasionally clinging. A slow but steady ascent. The sun beat down mercilessly on his head. He ignored it as best he could. A small rock shifted beneath his feet. He scrambled. Found another foothold just as the rock broke free. A deadly projectile hurtling through space.
Cædmon chanced a downward glance.
A mistake.
Seized with an unexpected attack of vertigo, he leaned into the coarse rock, afraid to breathe, move or even blink for that matter. A bird on a wire, wings clipped.
Panic-stricken, he tightened his grip on the rocky knob. A drop of blood plopped on to his face from the punctured finger, rolling down his cheek to his chin. An instant later, it joined the rock at the bottom of the cliff. Ghoulish images flashed across his mind’s eye. Broken bones. Crushed spine. Smashed skull.
‘Any moment now I’m going to plunge to my –’
Stiffen your backbone, man. To quote the American commando, you seek ‘the Holy fucking Grail’.
Cædmon gulped a deep breath. Then another. A soft breeze wafted across his cheek. A gentle caress. The irrational fear subsided. Courage shored, he extended his arm. Securing a handhold, he navigated to the next ledge.
Upsy-daisy.
Long minutes later, he reached the crescent-shaped opening. Peering inside, he saw a shallow grotto about seven feet in height, strewn with rocks and boulders. An inauspicious vault for the most sacred relic in all of Christendom.
Undeterred, he heaved his torso into the breach, wiggling his lower body as he scrambled into the narrow cavity. Crouched on his haunches, he opened his rucksack and removed a torch. Flipping it on, he aimed the beam around the cave. Which is when he saw a set of skeletal remains.
I don’t believe it … it’s the bloody Grail Guardian!
Thrilled by the discovery, he rushed forward, stumbling on a loose stone in his haste.
Kneeling beside the bones, he shoved the torch under his arm as he examined several bits of metal that looked to be a crudely fashioned belt buckle. A dried, translucent snake skin was draped over the bloke’s clavicle bone; a fragile strip of boot leather clung to his bony foot; and several horn buttons were scattered about. Everything else had long since disintegrated.
Above the skeleton, a Latin phrase had been clumsily scrawled in what appeared to be a manganese pigment. Ad Augusta Per Angusta. ‘To holy places through narrow spaces.’ Beneath the text was a crudely rendered Cathar cross.
An evocative message scribed for the ages. And while it wasn’t proof positive, it strongly suggested that these were the mortal remains of one of the four Cathars who escaped the Montségur citadel.
Cædmon perused the area, wondering if a skeletal companion lurked in the near vicinity. As he peered through the crescent opening, the Pyrenees unfolded in the airy distance like a granite accordion. The last image imprinted on the Cathar’s dying brain. Although a lonely place to spend eternity, the view was splendid. To die for, an irreverent wag might say.
‘All right, old boy, where’s the blasted Grail?’ he demanded cheekily. He shone the torch into the far reaches of the stone sepulchre, surprised to see that the cave extended deeper into the mountain.
Hope springing, Cædmon ambled through a craggy chasm which, in turn, led to another grotto. The womb of the Mother.
At a glance, he could see that there were no bones, no inscriptions and no Grail.
Angered to think that the Knights Templar may have beaten him to the prize, he turned in a slow circle, searching for a stone depository where the relic could have been stashed. His attention was drawn to a massive slab that jutted out from the grotto wall. He walked towards it, the unusual rock formation meriting further investigation.
A Cathar cross adorned the thick block of stone. Intrigued, he peered behind the slab.
‘I’ll be damned,’ he murmured upon discovering that the slab hid a passageway approximately five and a half feet high and twenty inches wide. ‘To holy places through narrow spaces.’
Bending his head, Cædmon stepped into the passage.
53
Grande Arche Parking Garage, Paris
1247 hours
‘Aren’t you the least bit tempted?’ Kate asked, still stunned by the staggering amount of money that had been offered to Finn in exchange for the Montségur Medallion.
‘Oh, yeah. Like I want to work for the devil. Which, in case you don’t know, is called selling your soul.’ Leaning against the railing inside the garage stairwell, Finn unabashedly stared. ‘You know, the blonde hair is starting to grow on me.’
‘You’re absolutely certain that I won’t be recognized?’
Plucking one of the corkscrew curls, Finn pulled it straight before releasing it. The blonde curl bounced into place like a well-oiled spring. ‘Don’t worry. I’ve been living with you 24/7 and even I wouldn’t recognize you.’
As with all of the other equipment, the wig had been part of yesterday’s spending spree. Although she’d complained about donning it on a hot day, the disguise was absolutely necessary for Phase Two of the mission op. There were video surveillance cameras in the underground parking garage at Grande Arche and the blonde wig would ensure that she wasn’t identified. They’d both agreed that it was easier to alter her appearance than disguise a six-foot-four-inch male.
‘Time to get the mission underway.’ Unzipping his Go Bag, Finn removed a black metal object that resembled a hockey puck. ‘Let’s go over the instructions one more time. Once you locate Uhlemann’s Mercedes Benz, crouch beside the rear tyre well and, reaching underneath, place the tracking device so it can’t be seen.’ He pointed to the small flat disk. ‘This is the magnetized side of the device. In order for it to adhere, metal has to touch metal. Any questions?’
‘Just one … What happens if I get caught?’ Suffering from an acute case of the jitters, Kate gnawed on her bottom lip.
‘You’re not going to get caught,’ Finn assured her. ‘This operation is a two-second “stow and go”. I’m talking stupid simple.’
While the hyperbole was meant to buoy her confidence, Kate worried that she might not be up to the task. She hadn’t even left the stairwell and already her heart was pounding and her knees were shaking. A terrified blonde Mata Hari.
‘After I install the device, then what?’
‘As soon as you attach the device, return to the stairwell on the double-quick. Then we pray to Bob Almighty that Ivo follows the script and goes for a ride.’ Finn glanced at the concrete block walls that enclosed the stairwell. ‘This place is like a fortress. If I’m gonna abduct the bastard, I need him in the open, away from his stronghold.’
Since Ivo Uhlemann had rendered the Dark Angel ‘non-negotiable’, Finn intended to up the ante by abducting the head of the Seven Research Foundation. To secure Dr Uhlemann’s safe return, the Seven would have to give Finn custody of the Dark Angel. He’d demanded the cease-fire in order to lull Uhlemann into a false sense of security.
Steadfastly holding her gaze, Finn took hold of Kate’s left hand and gently squeezed it. ‘Hey, Katie, I know that you’re scared. If it wasn’t for the security cameras, I’d go out there and install the device. But I’m confident that you can pull this off.’