Shadow Game

by Adam Hiatt

  Reddic drew the blinds on the windows before turning on a small lamp next to the couch. He took a seat in one of the armchairs and sat his backpack at his feet. He unzipped the bag and began laying gear out on the floor. There was a pair of black pants, a long sleeve black t-shirt, black boots and socks. He tried on a pair of lightweight gloves, also black. There was a laser pointer that he tested against the far wall, and a long nylon rope, along with a few other items. There were no weapons in the bag. He knew he would not have been able to get them past customs.

  “You should have a few things of your own in your bag,” Reddic said. “Empty it out and make sure everything is in order. We don't have much time.”

  “What's the plan?” Jaxon asked as he began sorting through his gear. There was a set of black clothes, a tube of sealant, a plastic bottle filled with some type of liquid, and gloves.

  “As soon as we're dressed, we'll leave. We need to get our work done before the tourists arrive.” Reddic stood and approached the window. He parted the curtain and looked out over the courtyard.

  “I think if we find what we're looking for...” He let the words trail off, afraid to finish the thought.

  “What?” Jaxon asked.

  “There's a chance we might stumble upon something much bigger than we anticipated.”

  “That's the beauty of discovery, Reddic. It's supposed to be exciting.”

  “I suppose,” he replied.

  He returned to his chair and finished putting on his gear. He just hoped they weren't about to step on a historical landmine.

  30

  The morning air was brisk and humid, and the streets of Paris were still relatively quiet. Two hours of darkness remained before the sun's first rays would appear on the eastern horizon. At that hour the city would awake, and the streets would begin to swell with a rising tide of merchants, tourists, and the working class. In other words, there was a reasonably tight window for Reddic and Jaxon to work unnoticed.

  They left the flat and walked casually down the RUE DE LA PAIX until they reached the AVENUE de l'OPERA. On their left at the terminus of the avenue was the National Academy of Music, also known as the Opera House. Its facade looked like a stately palace, adorned with fine columns, majestic archways, and detailed stonework. Two gilded angelic figures stood atop the avant-corps, symbolically watching over any Parisians that were to enter its opulent bowels.

  Reddic all but ignored the Opera House as he began to hasten his pace toward the river Seine. Paris, dating back to the 19th Century, was divided into twenty arrondissements, or administrative districts, inside the peripherique. Each arrondissement was unique in terms of its history and attractions. That was the beauty of Paris. Most of the main attractions were close in proximity, especially in the six arrondissements flanking the Siene. Reddic knew that if he were here as a tourist, he would be stopping almost every few steps to take a new picture. Their time, however, was too precious to be distracted by tourist traps.

  Turning down PLACE de CARROUSEL Jaxon slowed momentarily to admire Paris' most famous attraction—the Louvre. The street circled the famous inverted pyramid, while on the left was the grand courtyard of the world's most renowned museum. In the middle of the courtyard the glass pyramid glowed radiantly. Reddic snapped his fingers to get his brother's attention and signaled with his head toward their destination. Jaxon reluctantly fell in behind Reddic.

  They came out of the Louvre onto the QUAI FRANCOIS MITTERAND which ran parallel to the river Seine. Here Reddic broke into a jog along the river's edge until they arrived at Pont Neuf, French for New Bridge. It was ironic that the “New Bridge” was in reality Paris' oldest surviving bridge, a fact that was not lost on Jaxon. They crossed the bridge and stepped foot on the Ile de la Cite, one of two islands in the Seine.

  “Reddic, wait a second,” Jaxon shouted from twenty yards behind.

  Reddic slowed to a standstill on the sidewalk as he waited for his brother to catch up. His eye caught the statue of Henry IV riding atop his horse, faintly lit by the two streetlamps it faced.

  “He was the king of France in the late 16th century,” Jaxon said, arriving at his side. “He is one of France's most beloved kings, mostly because he actually cared for the people and was religiously tolerant.”

  “Is this what you needed to tell me?” Reddic asked.

  “Of course not,” he replied defensively. “It seemed as if you were admiring it is all.”

  “Jaxon, our time is short.”

  “Come with me.” Jaxon led them to a spot parallel to the statue on the north side, closest to the river.

  “Not far from here is where Jacques de Molay was executed,” he said, signaling with his hand toward the northwest. “There's a small, almost irrelevant plaque dedicated to Molay. Remember how I told you that his only request was to face his Notre Dame? Well, from there he would have been able to see the entire cathedral. The Ile was certainly developed then, although not to today's extent, but it still would have presented a challenge to see it had he been executed where we stand.”

  Reddic turned toward the direction of the cathedral and understood Jaxon's point. He could barely make out a towering spire between the four-story buildings in front of him, even though the cathedral was only two blocks away from where they stood.

  “Let's go take a look,” Reddic said.

  In less than ninety seconds they stood in the parvis facing the famous church. Floodlights kept the west facade aglow, as well as the surrounding grounds, but not a single other person was within eyesight. Reddic studied the structure as much as he stood in awe. The structure was quite imposing at first glance, but also quite simple in its grandeur. There were towers on both the north and south sides that created a powerful visual effect of an upward ascension toward the heavens. An immense rose window, typical of many cathedrals, was at the center of the facade, just above the three byzantine archways on the ground level.

  “Many consider this the finest example of French Gothic architecture in the world,” Jaxon said. “Every detail is symbolic. For example, those arches, or portals in the front represent the Virgin, the Last Judgment, and Sainte Anne. But they have also been equated with the holy Trinity. The rose window acts as a halo for the statue of Mary at its base, as well as a symbol of eternity, or of God becoming man. On her sides are statues of Adam and Eve, reminding mankind of the original sin. We could spend hours discussing the symbolic nature of this building.”

  “Let's try to focus for a bit,” Reddic said. “The page from Molay's diary that you found in the Vatican archives, you said it leads us here. You told me that you'd explain when we were standing in front of Notre Dame. Well, here we are. Get explaining.”

  Jaxon removed a folded sheet of paper from his backpack and handed it to his brother. Reddic unfolded it and powered on his flashlight. It was a copy of the diary page that he had seen before.

  “Let's skip to the last paragraph,” Jaxon said. “Molay was quite clever in his riddle.”

  Reddic studied the final lines of the page, reading them several times to discover its meaning.

  Our lady will justify me and my gaze will never leave her. My place amongst the kings will be a watchman for my record. Adieu.

  “I'm assuming that 'our lady' is referencing the Notre Dame Cathedral?”

  “That's what I've concluded,” Jaxon said.

  “The phrase 'my gaze will never leave her' seems to confirm Molay's final request to face the cathedral when he was being burned at the stake.” Jaxon nodded enthusiastically as Reddic spoke. “That's about as much as I can interpret with any certainty. What does the last line mean?”

  “Do you see those statues just under the balustrade and above the arches?” Jaxon asked. Reddic simply nodded and gestured for him to continue. “That is called the gallery of kings. There are twenty-eight statues representing twenty-eight generations of the kings of Judah. Remember, the line of Judah has also been called the stem of Jesse. That is the ancestral line that Mary and
Jesus came from. Now, what's interesting is that in the late 13th century these statues began to be misconstrued by the people as representing the kings of France. As a result, during the French Revolution they were attacked and disfigured because they were perceived as symbols of royal despotism.”

  “I'm assuming that what we are looking at are restorations,” Reddic said.

  “Your assumption is correct. They were restored in 1843 to their original form. This is exactly what Jacques de Molay would have seen in 1314.”

  “So, when Molay writes about his place amongst the kings he is referring to the gallery of kings. You're right, that is clever. But the phrase, 'his place', could mean anything.”

  “I agree. I actually thought about this for some time and explored many iterations. I thought perhaps that his family line may have branched out from one of the kings of Judah. Maybe he had a favorite king. After a while I finally realized something important. Jacques de Molay was the Grand Master of the Knights Templar, the most influential and powerful organization for nearly two centuries. They were greater than kings. But the Knights Templar were also pious and submissive, especially to the mandates of the pope.

  “Had that not been true my conclusions would be all wrong. However, I'm not wrong, I'm certain of it. Molay, much like his predecessors, recognized their place of importance within the Templars, but they did not elevate themselves to heretical status. What I mean is they reverenced their beliefs, traditions, and histories. Jacques de Molay did not believe that he was equal to the kings of Judah. Stating that he had a place amongst them was a numerical game. Molay was the twenty-third Grand Master. There are twenty-eight statues. Molay is obviously pointing us toward a specific number.”

  “The twenty-third king,” Reddic interjected.

  “Precisely. And he's watching over what Molay left for us.”

  31

  At the time of its construction the Notre Dame Cathedral was one of the largest buildings in the world. At well over two-hundred feet high and over four-hundred feet long, it was an impressive architectural achievement. As Reddic stood before the edifice, contemplating Jacque de Molay's riddle, he couldn't help but marvel at how massive it was, even by modern standards. He could only imagine how awestruck the local Parisians would have been in the fourteenth century.

  Reddic's eyes followed the gallery of kings and stopped on the twenty-third statue. He stared at it intently, trying to follow its gaze into the courtyard. The feat was impossible. The statue was too high to accurately assess anything.

  “I'm going to have to go up there,” he said. He pulled his backpack off and squatted next to it on the ground.

  “I don't know if that's a good idea,” Jaxon said. “It's over sixty feet to the balustrade.”

  Reddic did not respond. He simply removed the black nylon rope from his pack, as well as a black, lightweight grappling hook. He connected the rope to the hook and tested the knot. Satisfied, he slid the laser pointer into his pant pocket and handed a piece of chalk and a small radio to Jaxon.

  “Take these,” he said. “The only way we're going to find what's hidden here is if I go up there. You know it, and I know it. I'm going to shine this laser. Use the chalk to mark where the beam rests. If you see anybody you let me know with the radio and run. We'll meet up at the flat. Do you understand?”

  Jaxon took the items and nodded. He was about to say something when Reddic suddenly swiveled on his heal and shot off in a near sprint toward the cathedral.

  “Have fun,” Jaxon said to himself.

  At the base of the Sainte Anne Portal, directly below his destination, Reddic slowed down and examined the tympanum inside the arched opening. There were intricately detailed sculptures and bas-reliefs. The craftsmanship was astounding. In the middle was a sculpture of the Virgin Mary seated on a throne, guarded by angels. Flanking her sides are the Bishop of Paris and the King of France. There was a wedding scene above and a bas-relief below depicting Christ on earth.

  There were eight statues conspicuously present at ground level. Reddic recognized the Queen of Sheba, Peter, Paul, King Solomon, and King David. The towering wooden double doors directly in front looked original. There was a column separating each of the entrance points which erected Saint Marcel, the patron saint of Paris. This was not Reddic's first time staring at these figures. It was, however, the first time he was attempting to climb the west facade, a feat that would certainly land him in jail if Paris police were to catch him. Notre Dame was the landmark jewel of the country. Vandalism or any type of mischief or foul play was not only strictly prohibited, but grounds for long-term incarceration.

  Reddic stepped to his left three paces and stared up at the balustrade just above the Gallery of Kings. He held the grappling hook in his right hand and began to twirl it. He released it at the apex of the tight circle he was making and watched as it soared into the air and landed on the far side of the balustrade. Carefully, he pulled the slack out of the rope until he felt the hook latch onto the railing. He tugged on the rope several times to check its stability.

  Satisfied that it would hold, he put on his climbing gloves and began pulling himself up the rope, hand over hand until his feet were able to make contact with the side of the cathedral. It wasn't long before beads of sweat began rolling off his forehead, down into his eyes. The salty water stung, but he ignored the irritation. He focused all his energy on moving upward. His hands were beginning to ache with each pull of his body's weight.

  Stealing a quick peek, Reddic saw that only ten feet remained before he reached the balustrade. A surge of energy pushed through his body as he steeled his mind and forgot that his forearms felt like they were on fire. As he reached the end of the rope, he pulled himself over the balustrade and landed on his back. He remained motionless on his back breathing heavily. His heart pounded as if it were trying to escape his chest cavity. After fifteen seconds he rolled over onto his knees and looked out into the parvis, first toward Jaxon then a sweeping panorama. Paris was still asleep.

  Reddic moved toward his left along the stone railing's edge until he could move no farther. He leaned out over the balustrade and caught sight of the statue just below him. He knew that it represented the twenty-eighth and final king of Judah. Counting down from twenty-eight, he shuffled to his right until he stood just above the twenty-third statue. He reattached the grappling hook around the stone railing, tied off the rope around his waist, and silently climbed over the side. He let the rope slide through his gloved hands until he was face to face with the statue.

  Using his legs, he pushed himself away from the West Facade only to have his momentum swing him back toward the statue. His left foot made contact first, finding a hold in between the figurines. Reddic reached up with his right arm and wrapped it around the neck of the statue. He slid his left arm into place and brought his right foot next to his left. The area was tight, but he felt secure enough to proceed with his plan.

  As he removed the laser pointer from his pocket, he made eye contact with the head. He turned and looked toward Jaxon and then back at the statue again. A thought suddenly occurred to him. Perhaps he and Jaxon were going about this all wrong. They were using precision instruments to determine the possible resting place of Jacque de Molay's precious treasure. There was a chance that Molay's riddle identifying the twenty-third king as a watchman signified just that; that it watched over the courtyard, which meant that anywhere within its vast circumference might be the priceless record.

  He grabbed the two-way radio he had attached to his belt and pressed the talk button.

  “Jaxon, do you hear me?” he asked.

  “Loud and clear, buddy,” he said. “I have my chalk ready. Shine that laser.”

  “In a second. I just had a thought. What makes you think this statue is looking down at the precise location of the document? I mean, they didn't have lasers in the fourteenth century, obviously. Are we over-thinking this?”

  “I've given that a lot of thought too as you wer
e climbing. By the way, was that climb up the rope as easy as it looked?”

  “Did you want to switch places?” Reddic asked.

  “Sorry, bad joke,” Jaxon said. “Look, I agree it wouldn't make much sense for us to retrace Molay's footsteps here with our modern technology. But let me ask you this. Why would Molay go through all the trouble of leaving clues if he didn't want somebody to find what he left?”

  “That's what I keep coming back to,” Reddic said. “It doesn't make sense for us to pinpoint the location with a laser, but at the same time, it makes even less sense for Molay to leave generalities as clues.”

  “I think our best bet is to use the laser,” Jaxon said. “If we're wrong, we'll regroup and find another method.”

  Reddic stared at his radio and thought over his brother's words. He knew he was right. It did them no good to second guess every move they made. They simply had to trust that they had interpreted the riddle correctly and move on. If they ultimately were mistaken, they would have to explore other options. Until then, the last thing they could be was afraid to fail.

  After clipping the radio back onto his belt, Reddic brought the laser point up to the statue's eyes and leveled it toward the direction of its gaze. A thin, red beam cut through the night's air and rested on the stone parvis not too far from where Jaxon was standing. After a half minute he put the laser back into his pocket and brought the radio up to his lips.

  “Did you get it?” he asked.

  “I have it marked,” Jaxon said. “Get down here as fast as you can. We may only have another thirty minutes before the Ile starts coming to life.”