The Templar's Code (47 page)

“Please could you help me?” Saviour entreated with a smile.

The ranger, in the process of wiping the back of his neck with a handkerchief, turned to him. “Be happy to help, if I can.”

“I was supposed to meet my friends at the monument, but”—still smiling, he lifted his shoulders in a shrug—“apparently we missed each other in the crowd. Perhaps you saw them: a tall redheaded Brit and a curly—”

“Just missed ’em. Not too many folks ask about the Jefferson Pier.”

Saviour presumed he meant the hunk of granite a few feet away. “The Jefferson Pier? Why would they be interested in
this
? The Washington Monument is what everyone comes to see, no?”

“By the busloads. But for whatever reason, your friends seemed more interested in the pier. Like I told ’em, this marker was set in place by Thomas Jefferson when he surveyed the seventy-seventh meridian.”

Head tipped to one side, Saviour feigned interest.
Why is the Brit interested in a rock?
It made no sense.

“Will you excuse me for a moment?” Stepping several feet away, Saviour turned his back on Ranger Walker as he tapped the Bluetooth device clipped to his ear. Without preamble, he relayed the conversation to Mercurius, hoping his mentor could provide some context to the strange episode.

“And you’re quite certain that he said the
seventy-seventh
meridian?”

Saviour glanced over his shoulder at the ranger who had resumed mopping the sweat on the back of his neck. “Yes, positive.”

“I am deeply troubled that this man, the ranger, has spoken with Aisquith about the sacred meridian. He may even suspect the reason for the Englishman’s interest. That alone makes him a dangerous impediment.”

“I understand.” Saviour tapped the device, disconnecting the phone call.

He walked back to where the ranger stood waiting. “The information about the Jefferson Pier has been most helpful.”

Amiably grinning, the ranger jutted his chin at the tacky souvenir nestled under Saviour’s arm. “So, what’s the temperature?”

For several seconds, Saviour stared at the black man’s face, noticing the perspiration that dotted his brow. The neatly trimmed mustache. The dark nubbins of ingrown facial hair. Then, very slowly, and very deliberately, his gaze dropped to the slim hips garbed in a pair of dark-green trousers. “It’s extremely hot.”

The ranger held his hands up, palms facing out. “Hey, I don’t swing that way.”

“Pity.” Saviour removed the souvenir from under his arm and held it in his hand like a stake. A makeshift weapon.

Sensing his intention, the other man recoiled.

Too late
.

Saviour plunged the pointed tip of the metal obelisk into Jermaine Walker’s left breast. Straight to the heart. The ranger’s eyes immediately widened. Lips quivered. In that infinitesimal second between life and death, he yanked violently. A terrified animal in its death throes.

In the next second, Ranger Walker went limp.

Throwing his left arm around the ranger’s shoulders, Saviour grabbed him before he collapsed in an ungainly heap. Gently, he eased the uniformed man to the ground, propping him against the stone pier. Anyone seeing him from a distance would simply think he was sitting on the grassy lawn.

“You gave up the ghost too quickly, my friend.”

He readjusted the baseball cap on his head as he examined the expanding blood stain that encircled the metal obelisk protruding from Ranger Walker’s chest. When he bought the souvenir, he had intended it for a different victim.

“Oh, I almost forgot. . . . It’s seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit.” Saviour softly cackled, the joke lost on his dead companion.

“. . . and as we just recently learned, the Washington Monument was supposed to have been erected at the Jefferson Pier.” Caedmon gave the grove of holly and elm a cursory glance. “Lovely site for a brainstorming session.”

“According to Ranger Walker, the Army Corps of Engineers didn’t think the soil around the Jefferson Pier would support so massive a weight. That’s why the Washington Monument ended up not on the seventy-seventh meridian as originally planned but four hundred feet away.” Edie sighed. “And you’re right. I can’t think of a better place to contemplate God’s line of longitude than on Uncle Albert’s lap.”

Caedmon stared at the twelve-foot-tall bronze figure that dominated the grove. At Edie’s suggestion, they’d decided to break for lunch and dine al fresco at the Albert Einstein Memorial, the outdoor monument located on Constitution Avenue at the National Academy of Science. To his surprise, the memorial consisted of a charming, almost child-like statue of Einstein seated on a marble step. A secluded and peaceful oasis.

“Did you know that Albert Einstein was a member of the American Philosophical Society? Which is not the reason why I suggested the spot for our picnic.” Edie distractedly waved in the direction of the Jefferson Pier, some eight blocks away. “I just wanted to get off the beaten path. The Mall is an esoteric free-for-all.”

“Which Jefferson and Adams used to advantage, taking great care in hiding their emerald tree in Washington’s esoteric forest. Even going so far as to survey the seventy-seventh meridian.” Placing a hand on Edie’s elbow, he guided her toward the marble steps.

“Check out a D.C. map and you’ll see that the city was designed as a perfect ten-mile square.” Edie sat down next to “Uncle Albert.” “Sixteenth Street, aka the seventy-seventh meridian, runs right through the middle of the north-south axis of that square, completely dividing the city in half. The next signpost could be
anywhere
along the seventy-seventh meridian.” Opening a plain brown bag, she removed a hot dog wrapped in foil and a can of cola, handing both to him. “Lunch is served.”

Caedmon sat next to her. Not particularly enthusiastic, he gingerly peeled back the foil on the hot dog. Catching a whiff of onions and relish, he wrinkled his nose. “Bit of an acquired taste, eh?”

In the process of ripping open a small packet of mustard with her teeth, Edie raised a quizzical brow. “And blood sausage isn’t?”

“Point taken.” Following suit, he opened a packet of mustard.
When in Rome.
“I’m certain that the Jefferson Pier
is
a signpost. As you’ll recall, an entire line of inscription had been chiseled from the granite block.”

“And you think the missing inscription may have been important?”

“The pier was erected by one of the original Triad members. No coincidence in that, I’ll warrant.”

“If that’s the case, we’ve come to the end of our journey. There’s no way we can recover something that’s been chiseled out of existence, erased for all eternity.”

At hearing Edie’s blunt appraisal, his stomach painfully tightened. What initially started as a crusade for academic vindication—to find the missing link between the Knights Templar and ancient Egypt—had become a deadly quest to find an ancient relic of unimaginable power. The secret of Creation. Or the secret of obliteration in the case of the ill-fated Atlantis.

After centuries of being surreptitiously bandied about, the Emerald Tablet had been brought to the new capital city and promptly hidden by a trio of men to prevent it from falling into the hands of a despot. Now, more than two hundred years later, that dire scenario was very much front burner.
He had to find it.
Only then could he be certain that a rogue nation or terrorist organization didn’t use the relic to engineer a catastrophic event.

The sense of urgency real, Caedmon reached into his jacket pocket and removed the D.C. map that he’d earlier purchased along with an ink pen. Unfolding the map, he drew solid dots on two locations: the Adams Annex and the Jefferson Pier, connecting the points with a straight line.
But where does the line go from there?

“It’s here, somewhere in this blasted ten-mile square,” he muttered, angered that they’d lost the scent.

“While the inscription on the Jefferson Pier has been obliterated, maybe there’s a record of it elsewhere.” Idea proffered, Edie sank her teeth into the hot dog, making him wait until she’d chewed, swallowed, and washed it down with several sips of cola. “I’m guessing that Jefferson and Adams would have sent one another progress reports. When Jefferson surveyed the meridian, he would have written to Adams to inform him of what he’d done. Conversely, when Adams transported the Emerald Tablet from Philly to Washington, he would have sent a letter to Jefferson letting him know that the transport went off without a hitch.”

“And, in the days before cell phones and e-mail, this information would have been relayed via letters sent in the post.”

“It’s possible that one or the other may have mentioned the seventy-seventh meridian in a letter. And I’m fairly certain that the written correspondence between Jefferson and Adams is archived online.” Putting aside her half-eaten lunch, Edie opened her leather satchel and removed the netbook computer.

“A valid theory worth investigating.” Particularly since they’d reached a roadblock.

“Okay, I’ve got the complete set of Jefferson-Adams letters,” Edie informed him once the computer had booted up. “Lordy. Between the two of ’em, there’s more than three hundred letters. Any suggestions as to the keyword search?”

“The obvious first choice is ‘meridian.’ ” He dabbed at the corner of his mouth with a paper napkin before setting aside his half-eaten lunch, grateful for a reason to do so.

“I don’t believe it. . . . We got a hit.” Edie silently read the text, her lips moving as she did so. “Not that it makes a whole lot of sense,” she muttered a few moments later, handing him the netbook.

Caedmon skimmed over the first page of the missive, which seemed to be little more than inconsequential musings on the weather and an eloquent passage about the harvesting of English peas. When he reached the last paragraph on the second page, his breath caught in his throat.

By paragraph’s end, he’d reached a startling conclusion.

“The Great Seal anagram is embedded within this last paragraph.”

“Really! Are you sure?”

“Beyond a shadow.” To prove the point, he copied the paragraph and pasted it onto a blank page. He then selected ten words out of the text, which he highlighted. Finished, he handed the netbook back to Edie.

“Biblicil aten stone to gods eye do not err.” Edie stared at the computer screen, lower lip tucked behind her upper row of teeth. Then, frowning, she added, “We still don’t have a clue what it means.”

“True, but we know that the original Triad members, Franklin, Jefferson, and Adams, devised the anagram in July 1776. That, undoubtedly, was when they formulated their long-term plan to safeguard the Emerald Tablet,” he said, thinking that the most likely premise. “And, clever trio that they were, they knew that if there was a
new
capital city constructed from the ground up, no one would take notice of a man putting spade to dirt and placing something in a hole.”

“Because in 1800 when John Adams transported the Emerald Tablet to Washington, the whole city was one big construction zone,” Edie pointed out.

“From the informative chat with Ranger Walker, we learned that in 1793 Thomas Jefferson surveyed the seventy-seventh meridian. Which, in all likelihood, is when he selected the site where the Triad would hide the Emerald Tablet once it was conveyed to the new capital city.” He paused, taking a moment to flesh out the scheme. “My best guess is that ‘biblicil aten stone to gods eye do not err’ refers to the exact spot, here in Washington, where the Emerald Tablet was hidden. The three original Triad members knew all along that they would eventually hide the bloody thing on the seventy-seventh meridian.”

“But—and I hate to rain on our picnic—we need a signpost to point us in the right direction. The message originally inscribed on the Jefferson Pier no longer exists.”

He pointed to the last sentence in the paragraph. “Unless I’m greatly mistaken
this
is the phrase that was inscribed on Mister Jefferson’s pier.”

“ ‘I will stand on the top of the hill with the rod of God in mine hand,’ ” she read aloud. “That’s from the Old Testament, isn’t it?”

“The book of Exodus, to be precise. And it’s a line of scripture rife with layered meaning. The ‘rod of God’ was the wand that Moses used to work his miracles. According to the Bible, it was kept in the Ark of the Covenant.”

“Along with the Ten Commandments and the Emerald Stone.” Edie snapped her fingers, making the next connection. “And you mentioned earlier that one of Thoth’s attributes was an Egyptian
was.
Which was a type of rod, right?”