The Templar Chronicles (22 page)

Several free standing bulletin boards were set up in the front of the room. One contained a map of the state of Louisiana, with the target site circled in red southwest of where they presently were. Another contained old sepia photographs of a plantation house. Each of its two stories was surrounded by a wide veranda, with prominent columns. On the right side, the home was connected to what appeared to be a two-story greenhouse or conservatory. Separate photos showed additional buildings; a stable, a garage, others whose purposes were not immediately apparent.

A wider-angle photo on the next board showed how the lawn ran down to the water’s edge, where a boathouse had been built next to a dock that extended out into the bayou itself.

Duncan paid close attention to the photos, memorizing as much of the detail as possible. In the heat of a major firefight things could get confusing very quickly and he didn’t want to be at a disadvantage if he became separated from the main assault group.

Provided the commander even keeps me in the unit,
he thought sourly, remembering his outburst from earlier that morning.

Duncan’s concern was unnecessary, for Cade had already dismissed the incident from his mind. He had far more important issues to focus on.

“All right, listen up,” Cade said loudly as he moved to the front of the room. He waited a moment for the chatter to quiet down, and then continued in a quieter tone. “As you know, several of our commanderies have been attacked this week. We’ve managed to identify the group behind the assaults, and it’s my intention to carry the battle to them this time. Riley?”

A large picture appeared on the wall behind Cade as Riley switched on the projector at the back of the room. The picture was of a man in his mid-thirties, with dark hair and beard, dressed in shabby and ill-fitted clothes. Duncan thought he had the lean look of a man fallen on hard times, despite the fire in the man’s eyes.

“This is Simon Logan, a self-styled necromancer and leader of a group that calls itself the Council of Nine. We don’t know much about them, other than a few basics. They have always been fringe players, minor-league at best, without any real talent or ability. Given the number of genuine threats we face on a regular basis, worrying about the wannabes is usually counterproductive and so we ignored the Council in favor of bigger targets. As it turns out, that was a mistake.”

Cade turned away from the screen to address his men directly. “During the last few months, Logan and his followers have increased their knowledge of the dark arts to levels we never imagined they’d be able to achieve. My personal belief is that they have had some outside help — they’ve moved ahead too quickly to have done so on their own — but we do not yet have any concrete, tangible proof to that effect.

“Logan hasn’t been seen in public in almost three years, yet all indications suggest he’s still alive and running the show. His core group of followers, the &lsquonine’ from the group’s name, are seen only slightly more often, though we don’t have anything better than blurry photos of men in hooded robes in an undisclosed location. Personal information on them is practically non-existent. Next slide, please.”

The image of Logan was replaced by a blurry image of the plantation house. It had been taken from a distance, probably from a boat out on the bayou, and this time was in color. The quality was poor, but even so the men could see that the structure had fallen into disrepair, and the bayou had long since begun its encroachment on the property.

“This is the plantation as it is today. Or so we think. No one has been allowed on the property for several years. The man who took the picture, a real-estate developer looking to make a big score, had just come back from a clandestine visit to the site three years ago when he was killed in a hit-and-run accident while getting out of his car to visit the local coffee shop. The photo was the only one that the police were able to develop from the camera that he’d left on the front seat of his car. Next.”

A photo of the Spear of Destiny followed.

“This is the Spear of Destiny, also known as the Spear of Longinus It is the weapon used by the Roman soldier of the same name to pierce the side of Christ at the crucifixion. For hundreds of years, people have believed that the weapon was either in the hands of the Vatican, safely ensconced in one of the pilasters that form the framework of Michelangelo’s Dome, or in a display case in the Hofberg Treasure House in Vienna.”

Cade looked up at the image, then back down at the men assembled before him. “I suspect you’ve all heard the news by now. Until last night, the real Spear was under our control in a special vault. What you probably haven’t heard is that we were betrayed from within. A man named Donaldson, the Preceptor’s personal aide, was, in fact, a mole working for the Council. As a result, Preceptor Michaels lost his life, and the Spear, along with several other important relics, vanished into the night in the hands of Logan’s followers. It’s our job to bring them back.

“We believe that Logan’s men have returned to their headquarters in northern Louisiana and that they are unaware that we are on to them. They will more than likely remain at that location, believing they are safe, at least for the time being. It is my intention to use that false sense of security to our advantage. By this time tomorrow, I expect that facility to be in the hands of our Order.”

The room buzzed with righteous excitement as the squad leaders acknowledged the mission before them and the chance they were being given to strike back at those who had dared to attack the Order.

The men quieted down as Cade revealed a large-scale map of the local area. The plantation’s position was prominently noted. “Echo Team will take ground transportation to here,“ he said, indicating a landing some miles away on the edge of the bayou. “A guide has been arranged to take us through the swamp so we can approach the plantation from the swamp. Bravo Team will be inbound in the Blackhawks by then.” Cade turned to face the Bravo commanders. “I want the men off-loaded and the choppers back out of the way as quickly as possible, understood?”

There was an answering chorus of yes sirs.

“Echo will take the plantation house, Bravo the surrounding buildings. Once the Spear is secured, we’ll get it out of there aboard one of the choppers, then destroy the rest of the vermin.”

“Questions?”

Kurita was first. “What can we expect by way of resistance?”

“We’re not entirely certain. The Council had nine key members. We know two are dead. What we don’t know is how many followers might be there on the property with the rest. We do know they are capable of calling forth a variety of nether creatures. We’ve faced revenants, spectres, and one minor demon in the last three days alone; so be prepared for anything once we hit the ground. We’re going to be going in fast and hard, with surprise on our side, but if we get bogged down in a long firefight, the odds will be on their side.

“Firepower?” Mace asked.

“Again, uncertain, though all of the Council members we’ve seen to date have eschewed weaponry in favor of their ritual magick.”

Martinez raised his hand next. “What are the rules of engagement regarding prisoners?”

“I don’t expect there to be any, as they’re not the type to surrender. If by some strange chance they do, you’ve got to be extremely careful that it’s not just a ploy to bring you within their reach. Cuffs, gags, and blindfolds, at a minimum, on every prisoner. You need to be absolutely certain that they cannot make use of their arcane abilities.”

“Understood.”

“We’ll have one chance at this, gentlemen. Once they know we’re on to them, they disappear like rats into the woodwork. The Spear is too dangerous to leave in their hands. We cannot allow that to happen.”

Cade caught the attention of Fourth Squad’s commander. “Lyons, would you do the honors?”

“Yes sir,” said the grizzled veteran. He bowed his head, waited a moment for the rest of the men in the room to do the same, and began to pray. “Lord, we are Your humble servants, ever mindful of our duty and obligations. Tonight we once again go into battle in Your name. Stand with us. Grant us the peace and protection afforded Your servants in such times of strife. I ask that You watch over every man that bears Your sword this night. Fill their hearts with courage and their souls with peace, and if it is their time to join You in heaven, welcome them into Your home with open arms. We ask this in the name of Your precious Son, Jesus Christ. Amen.”

Cade addressed the group once more. “There will be a special Mass at sundown should any of you want to receive communion before going into battle. Immediately following the service, we’ll meet on the grounds to board the choppers. Duncan, Riley, and Olsen, I need to speak to you. The rest of you are dismissed.”

Once the room had cleared, Cade addressed his command team separately. “Recovering the Spear is our objective. Everything else, including the welfare of our men, is secondary to that. No matter what happens, we are going after the Spear, is that understood?”

The three men nodded.

“Olsen, I want you in a chopper overhead with a sniper rifle. Tell one of the Bravo snipers to do the same in another. Have him bring a spotter; Duncan will act as yours. Once the assault begins, you are free to pick and choose your targets. Concentrate on the Council members and anyone who appears to be attempting ritual magick. Warning shots are unnecessary.”

“Right.”

“Riley, you’re with me. We’re going in with First Squad as part of the ground unit. Once on the property, it will be our job to locate and retrieve the Spear.”

“Got it, boss,” said Riley, right on the heels of Duncan’s, “Understood.”

Cade dismissed them with a wave of his hand and turned back to study the maps for the fifth time that afternoon, wondering just what surprises the Necromancer, and possibly the Adversary, had in store for them.

*** ***

After Mass, Riley, Olsen, and Duncan walked to the armory, where Cade had been waiting for them. It was the team’s habit of suiting up together and that day was no exception. They gathered in a small anteroom off the main chamber where the rest of Echo and Bravo Teams had assembled. First they pulled on a set of dark grey ceramic body armor that had been blessed by the Holy Father himself after its construction. Next were jumpsuits of black flame-retardant material that went over the body armor. In shoulder holsters, each man carried the standard issue HK Mark 23 .45 caliber handgun, complete with a twelve-round magazine, a flash suppressor, and a laser-targeting device. Two spare magazines for the pistols were affixed with Velcro to their left wrists. A combat knife was either affixed to their belts or in calf sheaths on the outside of their boots. Their swords, recently blessed again during Mass, were then slung across their backs, the hilt of the weapon extending just beyond their right shoulders for easy access. Lightweight Kevlar tactical helmets with built-in communications gear were worn on their heads.

Along with their pistols, each of the Knights also carried his weapons of choice.

For Riley, it was a Mossberg 590 12-gauge combat shotgun. He also carried a variety of plastic explosives and other detonation devices in the chest webbing he wore over his jumpsuit, in case they needed some demolition work during the assault.

Olsen had swapped his usual Barrett Light .50 caliber sniper rifle for something lighter. Stationed as he would be in the moving Blackhawk, the Barrett would be too awkward to use effectively, but a Marine-issue M40A3 would do the trick just fine. He also had a selection of throwing knives in a custom-made sheath strapped to his left arm between shoulder and elbow.

Cade and Duncan both carried HP MP5/10 submachine guns loaded with their trademark double magazines, giving them sixty rounds of available firepower before they’d need to reload.

Outside, the sound of the approaching Blackhawks pierced the quiet with the rhythmic thump of their rotors. Cade ordered the sergeants to get the loading started and followed them out into the fading afternoon sunlight just as the Blackhawks touched down on the lawn nearby.

The sight of the nine choppers started Cade’s blood pumping. This had always been the time he liked best, when the op was getting under way and he knew that soon he would once again be put to the test.

He was headed for what would probably be the most dangerous assignment the Order had ever given him, and yet he felt a sense of calm, of peace, a feeling that this was what he had been born to do.

He stepped up onto the Blackhawk’s skid and signaled for the unit to get going.

As the chopper lifted into the air, the setting sun streamed out over the Lafayette commandery below him, and Cade found himself wondering idly if he would live to see its walls again.

Then, as the choppers turned as one to the west, Cade’s thoughts turned to the details of the mission before him.

The time for questions was over.

It was time for action.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Simon Logan stared down at the weapon in the carrying case before him with a mixture of fear, awe, and barely suppressed elation.

The final raid on the Templar commandery had been a smashing success. His men had acted with more skill than he’d expected, taking several other key artifacts from the Templar vaults, an act that would be lavishly rewarded. The Spear had been secured in the special carrying case designed for just that purpose, the other items packed away in whatever materials they had at hand, and the assault team had escaped as quickly and as silently as they had arrived.

The traitor had played his role well.

And apparently, he’d been justly rewarded for his treachery. The Necromancer had not been unhappy to hear that Donaldson been trapped in the room’s collapse as his men had made their exit.

It was one less pawn to be concerned about.

And now the legendary Spear of Longinus belonged to him.

Cautiously, the Necromancer reached out with one gnarled hand and ran a finger along the Spear’s shaft, a surge of power shooting up his arm. He’d been afraid the godly nature of the weapon would strike out against him and was pleased to discover his fears had been unfounded.