DE ROQUEFORT STOPPED AT THE ENTRANCE TO THE RUINS AND motioned his men to flank out to either side. The site was uncomfortably quiet. No movement. No voices. Nothing. Brother Geoffrey stood beside him. He remained worried that he was being set up. Which was why he'd come with firepower. He was pleased with his council's selection of knights-these men were some of the best in his ranks, experienced fighters of unquestioned courage and fortitude-which he might well need.
He peered around a pile of lichen-encrusted rubble, deeper into the decayed structure, past billows of standing grass. The bright dome of sky overhead was fading as the sun beat a retreat behind the mountains. Darkness would arrive shortly. And he worried about the weather. Squalls and rain came without warning in the Pyrenean summer.
He motioned and his men advanced forward, clambering over boulders and collapsed wall sections. He spied a campsite among three partial walls. Wood had been arranged for a fire that had yet to be lit.
"I'll go in," Geoffrey whispered. "They're expecting me."
He saw the wisdom of that move and nodded.
Geoffrey calmly walked into the open and approached the camp. Still no one was around. Then the younger man disappeared deeper into the ruins. A moment later he emerged and signaled for them to come.
De Roquefort told his men to wait and only he stepped into the open. He'd already directed his lieutenant to attack if necessary.
"Only Thorvaldsen is in the church," Geoffrey said.
"What church?"
"The monks cut a church into the rock. They've discovered a portal beneath the altar that leads to caves. The others are beneath us exploring. I told Thorvaldsen that I was going to retrieve the supplies."
He liked what he was hearing.
"I'd want to meet Henrik Thorvaldsen."
With gun in hand, he followed Geoffrey into the dungeon-like cavity carved from the rock. Thorvaldsen stood with his back to them, gazing down into what was once a support for the altar.
The old man turned as they came close.
De Roquefort raised his gun. "Not a word. Or it will be your last."
THE EARTH BENEATH STEPHANIE'S FEET HAD GIVEN WAY AND HER legs were collapsing into one of the traps they'd tried so hard to avoid. What had she been thinking? Seeing the words etched into the rock and then the metal gate waiting to be opened, she'd realized that her husband had been right. So she'd abandoned caution and raced forward. Mark had tried to stop her. She heard him scream, but it had been too late.
She was already heading down.
Her hands went skyward in an attempt to balance and she readied herself for the bronze stakes. But then she felt an arm encase her chest in a tight embrace. Then she was falling backward, to the ground, which she struck, another body cushioning her impact.
A second later, quiet.
Mark lay beneath her.
"You okay?" she asked, rolling off him.
Her son raised himself off the gravel. "Those rocks felt lovely on my back."
Heavy footsteps sounded in the darkness behind them, accompanied by two orbs of waggling light. Malone and Cassiopeia appeared.
"What happened?" Malone asked.
"I was careless," she said, standing, brushing herself off.
Malone shone a light down into the rectangular hole. "That would have been a bloody fall. It's full of stakes, all in good shape."
She came close, stared down into the opening, then turned and said to Mark, "Thanks, son."
Mark was rubbing the back of his neck, working the pain from his muscles. "No problem."
"Malone," Cassiopeia said. "Take a look."
Stephanie watched as Malone and Cassiopeia studied the Templar motto she and Mark had found. "I was headed to that gate when the hole got in the way."
"Two of them," Malone muttered. "At opposite ends of this corridor."
"There's another grille?" Mark asked.
"With another inscription."
She listened as Malone told them what they'd found.
"I agree with you," Mark said. "That skeleton has to be our long-lost marshal." He fished a chain from beneath his shirt. "We all wear the medallion. They're given at induction."
"Apparently," Malone said, "the Templars hedged their bets and separated the cache." He motioned to the floor trap. "And they made it a challenge to find. The marshal should have been more careful." Malone faced Stephanie. "As we all should."
"I understand," she said. "But, as you so often remind me, I'm not a field agent."
He smiled at her sarcasm. "So let's see what's behind that grille."
DE ROQUEFORT AIMED THE SHORT BARREL OF HIS WEAPON DIRECTLY at Henrik Thorvaldsen's furrowed brow. "I'm told you're one of the wealthiest men in Europe."
"And I'm told you're one of the most ambitious prelates in recent memory."
"You shouldn't listen to Mark Nelle."
"I didn't. His father told me."
"His father didn't know me."
"I wouldn't say that. You followed him around enough."
"Which turned out to be a waste of time."
"Did that make it easier for you to kill him?"
"Is that what you think? That I killed Lars Nelle?"
"Him and Ernst Scoville."
"You know nothing, old man."
"I know you're a problem." Thorvaldsen motioned to Geoffrey. "I know he's a traitor to his friend. And his Order."
De Roquefort watched as Geoffrey absorbed the insult, disdain sweeping into the younger man's pale gray eyes, then just as quickly dissipating.
"I'm loyal to my master. That's the oath I took."
"So you betrayed us for your oath?"
"I don't expect you to understand."
"I don't, and never will."
De Roquefort lowered his gun, then gestured for his men. They swarmed into the church and he motioned for silence. A few hand signals and they instantly understood that six were to position themselves outside and the remaining six to encircle the interior.
MALONE STEPPED AROUND THE TRAP STEPHANIE HAD EXPOSED and approached the metal grille. The others followed. He noticed a heart-shaped padlock suspended from a chain. "Brass." He caressed the gate. "But the gate is bronze."
"The padlock and chain have to be from Sauniere's time," Mark said. "Brass was a rare Middle Age commodity. Zinc was needed to make it and that was hard to come by."
"The lock is a c?ur-de-brass," Cassiopeia said. "They were once prevalent all over this region to fasten slave chains."
None of them moved to open the gate and Malone knew why. Another trap could lie in wait.
With his boot, he gently brushed the soil and gravel beneath his feet and tested the earth. Solid. He used his light and examined the gate's exterior. Two bronze hinges supported the right edge. He shone the light through the grille. The corridor beyond right-angled sharply a few feet inside and nothing could be seen past the bend. Great. He tested the chain and lock. "This brass is still strong. We're not going to able to pound it away."
"How about cutting it?" Cassiopeia asked.
"That would work. But with what?"
"The bolt cutters I brought. They're in the tool bag topside, by the generator."
"I'll go get them," Mark said.