The Templar Salvation (2010) (66 page)

Reilly glanced across at the legat. The man shook his head softly, his expression telegraphing a genuine sense of regret.

“I’m sorry,” Reilly told the woman.

She nodded slowly with resignation. One of the cops opened the car door for her. She stood still for a moment, then turned to Tess and said, “Can you follow me to the shop? On your way to the airport?”

Her words surprised Tess. “What, now?”

She tightened her hold around Tess’s hand. “Yes. I’d like to give you something. A souvenir. Give me the chance to leave you with a nicer memory of Konya than what you’ve seen so far.”

Tess held the woman’s gaze. There was something more there, something unsaid. Something the woman really needed Tess to respond to.

Trying not to telegraph her suspicions and suddenly wary of the cardinal’s presence, she looked a question at Reilly and the legat.

The legat shrugged. “I suppose we could. As long as it’s just a quick stop. And I do mean a quick stop. I don’t want either of you here a minute longer than you need to be.”

THE LEGAT AND THE CARDINAL WAITED in the comfort of the air-conditioned car while Tess and Reilly joined the old woman outside the storefront.

She woke her son up and got him to come down and unlock its entrance for them, then shooed him away and sent him back up to bed before inviting them in.

Tess hadn’t really noticed how gorgeous some of their ceramics were. There were vases, bowls, and plates of all sizes, elegantly shaped and exquisitely painted.

“Choose anything you like, please,” the old woman told them. “I’ll be right back.”

Tess watched her step away to the back of the store and disappear down some stairs that must have led to a basement.

She glanced at Reilly. He looked rough and weary, like being there was the last thing in the world he needed. Which, in fairness, it probably was.

She was hoping it would prove different.

She was about to confide her suspicions to him when the woman reappeared. Two things immediately signaled to her that she was right, and she felt a flutter in the pit of her belly. One was the way the old woman glanced furtively beyond her and Reilly and out the shop window, as if she were checking to see if anyone was watching. The other was what she was carrying.

It was an old shoebox.

The old woman cast another look out front, then presented the box to Tess. “These are for you.”

Tess’s heart jumped a couple of gears as she looked at her quizzically. She wanted to ask the obvious question, but the words died out in her throat. She just took the box and opened it.

It was filled with dozens of plastic sleeves.

Tess took one out and opened it up. It was about six inches wide and was all folded up on itself, like an accordion-style wallet sleeve that people used to hold family photos in the pre-iPhone era.

She opened it up.

It was made up of a couple dozen pockets, each one about an inch and a half tall. Inside each pocket was a six-inch strip. On each strip were four 35mm negatives.

Tess knew what they were before she held the sleeve up to the light. Although the image was dark and reversed, she could see the distinct silhouette of a rectangular object against a neutral background. Some of them showed the backflaps and the leather ties clearly. The image on each negative was reversed, so the object in the photographs looked dark, its background light. Inside the dark rectangles were rows of tiny, light characters, as if written in white ink on a black page.

The writings on the codices.

They were there. Lots and lots of them.

“You took these?” she asked the woman.

“My husband did. Many years ago, long before he died. We thought we had to keep some kind of record of them, in case they were ever destroyed in a fire or something. They were so fragile, we had to be very careful, but we managed it. I have prints of all the pictures in storage, but they’re too heavy for you to carry without anyone noticing.”

Tess’s fingers skipped deeper into the box. “Are they all in here?”

The old woman nodded. “Every page of every book.” She shrugged, a pall of resignation darkening her face. “I know they won’t convince anyone. People will easily say these pictures are fakes. But it’s the best I can do.”

Tess considered her words for a beat, then shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.” She gave the woman a warm, comforting smile. “This isn’t about convincing anyone of anything. It never was. It’s about knowledge. It’s about history, and truth. Those who believe every word in the Bible was dictated by God himself—they were never going to be swayed anyway. We know that. Even seeing and examining the codices with their own eyes wouldn’t have made a difference to them. But for those of us who are looking to understand the roots of faith better, for those of us who are curious about our history and about how we got to be the way we are … these are plenty. Believe me. Plenty.”

The old woman seemed pleased with Tess’s words and nodded her agreement. “Be careful with them.”

“Oh, trust me, I’ll make sure they’re safe.” She looked at Reilly, her face all luminous and giddy and brimming with an almost childlike glee. “We’ll make sure of that, right?”

Reilly studied her for a beat, amusement playing across his bruised face, and raised an eyebrow. “I’m guessing you have your ending now?”

“You bet,” she smiled. “Come on. Let’s go home.”

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My thanks to all the friends and colleagues—Bashar, Nic, Carlos, Ben, Jon, Brian, Claire, Susan, Eugenie, Jay, Raffaella, and everyone at Dutton, NAL, and Orion—without whom my efforts would be nothing more than pixels on the screen of my laptop. Thanks also to the Burstons, Joorises, and Chalabis for lending me their secluded homes (and sailboat), where said efforts could flourish without too many distractions.

Bigger thanks, though, this time around, are due to all the friends and family who helped us through this less-than-memorable time. There are far too many of you to mention, but you all know who you are and we’re very fortunate to have you in our lives. Your friendship, help, and support has been phenomenal, and if anyone deserves to be thanked for making this book possible, it’s you.