Read James Acton 04 - The Templar's Relic Online
Authors: J Robert Kennedy
James Acton 04 - The Templar's Relic
Table of Contents
From the Back Cover
The Church Helped Destroy the Templars.
Will a twist of fate let them get their revenge 700 years later?
The Vault must be sealed, but a construction accident leads to a miraculous discovery—an ancient tomb containing four Templar Knights, long forgotten, on the grounds of the Vatican. Not knowing who they can trust, the Vatican requests Professors James Acton and Laura Palmer examine the find, but what they discover, a precious Islamic relic, lost during the Crusades, triggers a set of events that shake the entire world, pitting the two greatest religions against each other.
Join Professors James Acton and Laura Palmer, INTERPOL Agent Hugh Reading, Scotland Yard DI Martin Chaney, and the Delta Force Bravo Team as they race against time to defuse a worldwide crisis that could quickly devolve into all-out war.
At risk is nothing less than the Vatican itself, and the rock upon which it was built.
From J. Robert Kennedy, the author of six international bestsellers including Depraved Difference and The Protocol, comes The Templar’s Relic, the fourth entry in the smash hit James Acton Thrillers series, where once again Kennedy takes history and twists it to his own ends, resulting in a heart pounding thrill ride filled with action, suspense, humor and heartbreak.
Praise for J. Robert Kennedy
If you want fast and furious, if you can cope with a high body count, most of all if you like to be hugely entertained, then you can't do much better than J Robert Kennedy.
Amazon Vine Voice Reviewer
The Templar's Relic
A James Acton Thriller
by
J. Robert Kennedy
Published Internationally by J. Robert Kennedy, Ottawa, ON Canada
Copyright © 2012 J. Robert Kennedy
Cover and Inside Artwork Copyright © 2012 J. Robert Kennedy
All rights reserved. The use of any part of this publication reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the publisher, J. Robert Kennedy, is an infringement of copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any person or persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3
For the moderates who died speaking out, for they are the true martyrs.
The Templar's Relic
A James Acton Thriller
Table of Contents
FORWARD
The bulk of the events in this book take place after those in Broken Dove, Book #3 in the James Acton Thrillers series. Reading the earlier novels is not necessary to enjoy The Templar’s Relic as it is a wholly self-contained novel, however it is recommended to fully understand how many of the characters met and those relationships developed.
“And when the sacred months have passed, then kill the polytheists wherever you find them and capture them and besiege them and sit in wait for them at every place of ambush. But if they should repent, establish prayer, and give zakah, let them [go] on their way. Indeed, Allah is Forgiving and Merciful.”
Koran 9:5
“The Jews say, “Ezra is the son of Allah”; and the Christians say, “The Messiah is the son of Allah.” That is their statement from their mouths; they imitate the saying of those who disbelieved [before them]. May Allah destroy them; how are they deluded?”
Koran 9:30
Port of Acre, Dominion of Saladin
July 12, 1191
“We are defeated.”
Malik nodded, his chest tight with the shame of it. It was a statement nobody could dispute. The infidel hordes had broken through the gates about an hour ago and continued to pour in, despite the valiant effort put up by the starving defenders. Malik had tended to the wounded, stacked and burned the dead, distributed the rations to the hungry civilians. He had done it all. And it was all in vain.
Why had this happened?
If they had just surrendered at the start, when it was obvious there was no way to win, this all could have been avoided.
Pride.
It was pride that made the elders decide to fight, to weather the siege.
And for what?
It was over.
The last stand of Acre was over. Tens of thousands were dead. The rest were dying. And after holding out so long, could they expect any restraint from the angry Christian soldiers now pouring through the once mighty gates?
We’re all doomed.
Malik looked at Ali, his Imam since he was a little boy. “What are we to do, Imam Ali?”
“Besides pray to Allah?”
Allah hadn’t come through so far, so why continue?
“Yes, sir, besides pray.”
“Nothing.”
Malik opened his mouth to object, when Imam Ali held a boney finger up to stop him.
“
We
shall do nothing, as
I
am too old.” He put his arm over Malik’s shoulder, guiding him deeper into the mosque. “But
you
,
you
are young, and still fit. You shall take our holiest of possessions, and save it from the infidels.”
Malik’s heart pounded against his chest. He stumbled, Ali catching him.
“Are you alright, my son?”
Malik nodded. “Yes, Imam, just overwhelmed with the—” Malik wasn’t sure what to say. Honor? Responsibility? Death warrant? “Honor.”
Imam Ali smiled.
I guess I chose the right word.
But he wasn’t sure he wanted the honor. Right now, after almost two years of constant battle, he simply wanted to sit in a corner somewhere and wait for the blade of a Christian Knight to end his suffering. The last thing he wanted was the responsibility of saving the parchment.
“But how, Imam? How can
I
save it?”
“You shall be provisioned for two weeks of travel, disguised as a poor laborer”—he stopped and looked at Malik—“which shouldn’t be a problem,” he said, smiling. Malik was about to open his mouth to protest some more, when the aged Imam spoke again. “You will be sent out of the city by way of the ancient tunnels.”
Malik stopped.
Ancient tunnels?
“What ancient tunnels?”
“Tunnels carved long ago by Allah’s will, and the labor of his devotees. They lead out, past the city walls, and under the camps of the infidels. When you reach the end, head south to Jaffa, and seek the Imam there.”
Tunnels? Under the city?
Suddenly he felt like he might just make it. But then a question begged to be asked. “If there are tunnels, Imam, why haven’t we used them to save our people?”
Imam Ali patted the young man on the top of his head. “You are a good boy. Allah would be pleased. If we evacuated our population through these tunnels, there would be so many spread across the desert, that the infidels would surely capture some, then find the source, and enter our city that much sooner.” He paused and sighed, his eyes looking into the distance. “Why Saladin hasn’t come this time, we’ll never know. We had held out hope that he would save us, but he hasn’t.” He looked back at Malik, a sad smile on his face. “We were foolish. We thought Allah would protect us from the infidel hordes, but Allah obviously had other plans for his children. If only the great Prophet Mohammed, peace be upon him, were here. Such a warrior! He, he would have found a way to save us, and push the infidels back into the sea. Especially that deviant Richard the Lionheart.” Ali spat on the ground, as did Malik. It was just something that was done.
“When do I leave?”
Suddenly shouting erupted from the street, the strange tongue of the infidel echoing off the ancient walls. Imam Ali grabbed Malik by his robes and hurried him into the sacred chamber containing the ancient scroll that was so revered. He lifted it off its pedestal and carefully rolled it, placing it into a tube-shaped case sitting under the display. Giving the case a hug while looking up to the heavens, Imam Ali handed it over to his young student.
“Come, we must hurry!”
The shouts from outside sounded closer. Screams of the defenders violated the stillness of the mosque as they were slaughtered; their weakened state no match for the well-fed Christian army. Imam Ali pulled Malik toward the entrance to the cellars, grabbing a torch off the wall. Malik had enough presence of mind to do the same.
They wound their way down a spiral stair case, and eventually emerged into a room filled with scrolls and artifacts collected over the years, by the Imam, who considered himself a scholar, and indeed was renowned throughout the region, taking great pride in his collection, and his writings. This was their history. This was their knowledge. And today, it could all be lost.
Imam Ali stopped at a desk, grabbed a piece of parchment and a quilled pen, then began writing rapidly. When done, he carefully folded it and placed his seal upon it. He handed it to Malik.
“Keep this with you. Should you be faced with a situation where you think a word or two from me might help, break the seal and let them read it. If not, when you reach Jaffa, show it to the Imam.”
Malik nodded, tucking the letter away inside his robes.
The sound of the outer doors to the mosque crashing open echoed down the staircase, startling both of them.
“Come, quickly!” hissed Imam Ali. “There’s no more time!”
He rushed over to the far wall and pushed aside a tapestry that appeared from the dust to not have been moved in years. Malik bent over and looked under the old cloth, expecting to find a hidden door, but instead found his Imam saying a prayer.
In front of a wall.
A wall no different than any other wall in the room. Imam Ali, finished with his prayer, placed his right hand on a stone, a stone that appeared like all the others in every way. Then he placed his left hand on another stone. Malik wasn’t sure what was going on.
Has the old man gone mad?
Suddenly, with a grunt, the elderly Imam pushed forward with both hands. Malik gasped as the two stones receded into the wall, sounds echoing from behind the stone betraying the presence of some sort of mechanism activating. Moments later the sounds stopped, and Imam Ali looked at Malik with a smile.
“Have faith in Allah.” He shoved against the wall, but nothing happened. “And help an old man.”
Malik nodded, placed his torch on the floor, then jumped forward, pushing with all his might on the stones his Imam toiled against.
And it moved. Slightly, but then, as they continued to push, it continued to recede, and eventually a gap, large enough for a man, appeared between the wall and what was apparently a secret door.
Imam Ali shoved Malik through the gap, handing him a torch. “Now, push the door closed, then follow the tunnel to its end. It will open facing south.” He handed Malik several bags. “Food. Water.” He touched Malik’s arm. “Allah be with you.”
Malik nodded, stepping back into the darkness. He pulled the torch through, and the narrow tunnel was revealed.
“Now push!” he heard the Imam order.
Malik leaned his back against the wall, and pushed with all his might, the ancient doorway slowly closing, then with a final click, he heard the mechanism activate, sealing it in place.
