“Cardinal Spera?” Gray said, confusion in his voice.
Seichan sat next to him and answered, “Who do you think hired me?”
16
THE DAEDALUS MAZE
JULY 27, 4:38 A.M.
AVIGNON, FRANCE
AS THUNDER boomed beyond the palace, Kat waited for Vigor. The monsignor had gone down the firepit’s dark stairs fifteen minutes ago.
To take a peek, he had said.
She shone her light down the stairs.
Where was he?
She considered following him, but caution kept her at her post. If he was in trouble, he would’ve yelled. She remembered the ramp sealing and trapping them under Saint Peter’s tomb. What if that happened here? Who would know where to look for them?
She maintained her post, but she dropped to a knee and called below, trying to keep her voice soft at the same time. “Vigor!”
Footsteps answered her, hurried, coming up from below. A glow suffused, then focused down into a flashlight. Vigor climbed to within a half-dozen stairs. He waved to her.
“You must see this!”
Kat took a deep breath. “We should wait for Gray and the others to call.”
Vigor climbed another stair with a frown. “I’m as concerned as you, but there are surely other mysteries to solve down here. That is our purpose in being sent as an advance team. That is how we help the others. The Dragon Court, Gray, and the others are all in Switzerland. It will be hours before they can get here. We should put the time to good use and not squander it.”
Kat considered his argument. She checked her watch again. She also remembered Gray’s admonishment about being too cautious. But she was also damn curious.
She nodded. “But we check back up here every quarter hour for any contact from Gray.”
“Of course.”
Kat shouldered her pack and waved him down. She left one of her cell phones by the firepit, to pick up any call coming in—and to leave at least one breadcrumb to follow if they became sealed and trapped below.
While she’d bend about being too cautious, she wasn’t foolhardy.
She left that to Gray.
Kat ducked below, following Vigor. The stairs led straight down for a fair shot, then turned upon themselves and headed even deeper. Oddly, the air smelled dry, rather than dank.
The steps ended at a short tunnel.
Vigor’s pace hurried.
From the hollow echo of the monsignor’s footsteps, Kat sensed that a larger cavern lay beyond. It was confirmed a moment later.
She stepped out onto a three-meter stone ledge. Their two lights cast wide swaths across the domed and vaulted space, stretching above and below. It must have once been a natural cavity in the granite, but a great undertaking had transformed it.
Kneeling, Kat ran her fingers along the stonework underfoot, precisely fitted blocks of raw marble. Straightening, Kat shone her flashlight to the sides and down.
Skilled craftsmen and engineers had built a series of twelve bricked tiers, descending from their perch and on down toward the distant floor. The space was roughly circular in shape. Each level below was smaller than the next, like a vast amphitheater…or an upside-down step pyramid.
She shone her light across the yawning space contained within these tiers.
It wasn’t empty.
Thick arches of granite spanned out from the tiered footings in a corkscrew pattern, supported by giant columns. Kat recognized the arches. Flying buttresses. Like those that supported Gothic cathedrals. In fact, the entire interior space had that lofty, weightless feeling of a church.
“This had to have been built by the Knights Templar,” Vigor said, moving along the tier. “Nothing like this has ever been seen. A sonata of geometry and engineering. A poem in stone. Gothic architecture at its most perfect.”
“A cathedral underground,” Kat mumbled, awed, reverential.
Vigor nodded. “But one built to worship history, art, and knowledge.” He swept his arm out.
But there was no need.
The stone framework served only one purpose, to support a convoluted maze of timber scaffolding. Shelves, rooms, ladders, and stairs. Glass glittered. Gold shone. It all held a storehouse of books, scrolls, texts, artifacts, statuary, and strange brass contraptions. Each step around seemed to open new vistas, like some vast M. C. Escher painting, impossible angles, dimensional contradictions supported by stone and timber.
“It’s a huge library,” Kat said.
“And museum, and storehouse, and gallery,” Vigor finished. He hurried to the side.
A stone table, like an altar, sat not far from the entry tunnel.
A leather-bound book spread open under glass…gold glass.
“I was afraid to touch it,” Vigor said. “But you can see fairly well through it.” He shone his light down upon the exposed pages.
Kat peered at the book. It was heavily decorated in oils. An illuminated manuscript. Tiny script flowed down the page. It appeared to be a list.
“I think this is the codex for the entire library,” Vigor said. “A ledger and filing system. But I can’t be sure.”
The monsignor’s palms hovered over the glass case, plainly fearful of touching it. They had seen the effects of such superconducting material. Kat stepped back. She noted that the entire complex glittered with similar glass. Even the walls of the tiers had plates of the glass dotted along them, embedded like windows, set like jewels.
What did it mean?
Vigor still bent over the book. “Here it lists in Latin ‘the Holy Stone of Saint Trophimus.’”
Kat glanced back to him for explanation.
“He was the saint who first brought Christianity to this area of France. It is said he had a visitation of Christ during a secret meeting of early Christians in a necropolis. Christ knelt on a sarcophagus and his imprint remained. The sarcophagus lid became a treasure, supposedly invoking the knowledge of Christ upon those who beheld it.” Vigor stared out at the vaulted cathedral of history. “It was thought lost forever. But it’s here. Like so much else.”
He waved back to the book. “Complete texts of forbidden gospels, not just the tattered fragments of those found near the Dead Sea. I saw four gospels listed. One I had never even heard before. The Brown Gospel of the Golden Hills. What might it contain? But most of all…” Vigor lifted his flashlight. “According to the codex, somewhere out there is stored the Mandylion.”
Kat frowned. “What’s that?”
“The true burial shroud of Christ, an artifact that predates the controversial Turin Shroud. It was taken from Edessa to Constantinople in the tenth century, but during periods of marauding, it vanished. Many suspected it ended up in the treasury of the Knights Templar.” Vigor nodded. “Out there lies the proof. And possibly the true face of Christ.”
Kat felt the weight of ages…all suspended in perfect geometry.
“One page,” Vigor mumbled.
Kat knew the monsignor was refering to the fact that all these wonders were listed on just one page of the leather-bound book—which appeared to have close to a thousand pages.
“What else might be found here?” Vigor said in a hushed voice.
“Have you explored all the way to the bottom?” Kat asked.
“Not yet. I went back up to fetch you.”
Kat headed to the narrow stairs that led from one tier to the next. “We should at least get a general layout of the space, then head back up.”
Vigor nodded, but he seemed reluctant to leave the book’s side.
Still, he followed Kat as she wound back and forth down the switch-backing stairs. She gazed up at one point. The entire edifice hung above her, suspended as much in time as space.
At last they reached the top of the last tier. A final set of stairs led to a flat floor, hemmed in by the last tier. The library did not extend below. All the treasure piled above, held suspended by a pair of giant arches, footed on the last tier.
Kat recognized the
stone of these arches.
Not granite or marble.
Magnetite again.
Also, directly beneath the crossing of the arches, rising from the center of the floor, stood a waist-high column of magnetite, like a stone finger pointing up.
Kat descended more cautiously to the floor below. A lip of natural granite surrounded a thick glass floor. Gold glass. She didn’t step out on it. The brick walls around it also were embedded with mirrored plates of gold glass. Twelve she counted, the same as the number of tiers.
Vigor joined her.
Like Kat, he took in all these details, but both their focuses fixed to the lines of silver—probably pure platinum—that etched the floor. The image somehow fit as an ending to this long hunt. It depicted a twisted maze leading to a central rosette. The stubby pillar of magnetite rose from its center.
Kat studied the space: the maze, the arches of magnetite, the glass floor. It all reminded her of the tomb of Alexander, with its pyramid and reflective pool.
“It looks like another mystery to solve.” She stared at the treasures hanging above her head. “But if we already opened this ancient storehouse of the mages, what’s left to find?”
Vigor stepped closer. “Don’t forget Alexander’s gold key. We didn’t need it to open anything here.”
“That means…”
“There’s more than just this library.”
“But what?”
“I don’t know,” Vigor said. “But I recognize this maze pattern.”
Kat turned to him.
“It’s the Labyrinth of Daedalus.”
5:02 A.M.
OVER FRANCE
GRAY WAITED to interrogate the others until they were airborne again. The helicopter had flown them all to the Geneva International Airport, where Cardinal Spera had a private Gulfstream jet fueled and cleared for immediate takeoff to Avignon. It was surprising what a high-ranking official in the Vatican could accomplish.
Which posed Gray’s first question.
“What is the Vatican doing hiring a Guild operative?” he asked.
The five of them had swung their seats around to face one another.
Cardinal Spera acknowledged the question with a nod. “It was not the Holy See itself that hired Seichan.” He motioned to the woman seated beside him. “It was a smaller group, acting independently. We heard of the Dragon Court’s interest and activity. We had already used the Guild to investigate the group peripherally.”
“You hired mercenaries?” Gray accused.
“What we sought to protect required less-than-official means. To fight fire with fire. The Guild’s reputation might be ruthless, but they’re also efficient, honor their contracts, and get the job accomplished by any means.”
“Yet they didn’t stop the massacre in Cologne.”
“It was an oversight on my part, I’m afraid. We were unaware of the significance of their theft of the Cairo text. Or that they would act so swiftly.”
The cardinal sighed and twisted one of his gold rings, then another, back and forth, a nervous gesture. “So much bloodshed. After the murders, I approached the Guild again, to directly plant an operative among them. It was easy to do once Sigma had been called into play. The Guild offered its services, Seichan had had a run-in with you already, and the Court took the bite.”
Seichan spoke up. “My orders were to discover what the Court knew, how far their operation had progressed, and to thwart them however I saw fit.”
“Like standing by while they tortured priests,” Rachel said.
Seichan shrugged. “I came late to that little party. And once under way, there’s no discouraging Raoul.”
Gray nodded. He still had her coin from Milan. “And you helped us escape then, too.”
“It suited my purpose. By helping you, I was serving my mission to keep the Court challenged.”
Gray studied Seichan as she spoke. Whose side was she really playing on? With all her double and triple crosses, was there more she kept hidden? Her explanation sounded good, but all her efforts could merely be a ruse to serve the Guild.
The Vatican was naive to trust them…or her.
But either way, Gray owed Seichan another debt.
As planned, she had arranged to have Monk whisked out of the hospital before Raoul’s goons struck. Gray had assumed she would employ some of her Guild operatives—not call Spera, her employer. But the cardinal had got the job done, declaring Monk a Vatican ambassador and shuffling him out of there.
And now they were on their way to Avignon.
Still, one thing bothered Gray.
“Your group at the Vatican,” he said, eyeing Spera. “What’s their interest in all this?”
Spera had folded his hands on the table. Clearly he was reluctant to speak further, but Rachel reached across to him. She took his hands and splayed them out. She leaned forward to study them.
“You have two gold rings with the papal seal,” she said.
The cardinal pulled his hands back, covering one hand over the other. “One for my station as cardinal,” he explained. “And one for my position as secretary of state. Matching rings. Its traditional.”
“But they don’t match,” she said. “I hadn’t noticed until you folded your fingers together like that. With the rings on each hand side by side. They aren’t the same ring. They’re mirror images of the other. Exact reflected copies.”
Gray frowned.
“They’re twins,” Rachel said.
Gray asked to see the rings himself. She was right. Reverse images of the papal seal. “And Thomas means ‘twin,’” Gray mumbled, staring up at the cardinal. He remembered Spera’s comment about how only a small group within the Vatican had hired the Guild. Gray now knew which group.
“You’re a part of the Thomas Church,” he said. “That’s why you’ve been trying to stop the Court in secret.”
Spera stared for a long breath, then slowly nodded. “Our group has been an accepted, if not promoted, part of the Apostolic Church. Despite beliefs to the contrary, the Church is not beyond science or research. Catholic universities, hospitals, and research facilities advocate forward thinking, new concepts and ideas. And yes, a certain part is steadfast and slow to respond, but it also contains members who do challenge and keep the Church malleable. That is a role we still serve.”
“And what about in the past?” Gray asked. “This ancient society of alchemists we’re hunting? The clues we’ve been following?”
Cardinal Spera shook his head. “The Thomas Church of today is not the same as before. That church vanished during the French papacy, disappearing along with the Knights Templar. Mortality, conflict, and secrecy separated it even further, leaving only shadows and rumors. The true fate of that Gnostic church and its ancient lineage remains unknown to us.”
“So you’re as in the dark about all this as we are,” Monk said.
“I’m afraid so. Except we knew that the old church existed. It was not mythology.”
“So did the Dragon Court,” Gray said.
“Yes. But we’ve sought to preserve the mystery, trusting in the wisdom of our forefathers, believing it was hidden for a reason and that such knowledge would reveal itself when the time was right. The Dragon Court, on the other hand, has sought to uncover its secrets through bloodshed, corruption, and torture, seeking nothing more than a power to dominate and rule all. We’ve opposed them for generations.”
“And now they are so close,” Gray said.
“And they have the gold key,” Rachel reminded them, shaking her head.
Gray rubbed his face in exhaustion. He had handed it over himself. He’d needed the key to convince Raoul of Seichan’s renewed loyalty. It had been a gamble certainly, but so had the whole rescue plan. Raoul was supposed to have been captured or killed at the castle—but the bastard had escaped.
Gray stared at Rachel. Feeling guilty, he wanted to say something, to explain everything, but he was saved as the pilot came over the radio.
&nb
sp; “You all might want to secure your seatbelts. We’re coming up onto some bumpy weather ahead.”
Lightning flashed across the clouds below.
Thunderclouds stacked higher ahead, lit up momentarily by the crackling bolts, then vanishing into darkness. They were flying into the teeth of a real storm.
5:12 A.M.
AVIGNON, FRANCE
VIGOR WALKED along the stone lip that circled the glass floor—and its etched labyrinth. He had been studying it for a full minute in silence, fascinated by the mystery here.
“Notice how it’s not truly a maze,” he finally said. “No blind corners or dead ends. It’s just one long, continuous, sinuous path. You can find this exact same maze done in blue and white stones at the Chartres Cathedral outside Paris.”
“But what’s it doing down here?” Kat asked. “And why did you call it the Labyrinth of Daedalus?”
“The Chartres labyrinth went by many names. One was le Dedale. Or ‘The Daedalus.’ Named after the mythological architect who constructed the maze for King Minos of Crete. The labyrinth was the home of the Minotaur, a bull-like beast that the warrior Theseus eventually defeated.”
“But why put such a maze inside the Chartres cathedral?”
“It wasn’t just Chartres. During the height of church-building in the thirteenth century, when Gothic construction was at its most ardent, different mazes were placed in many cathedrals. Amiens, Rheims, Arras, Auxerre…all had mazes as you entered their naves. But centuries later the Church destroyed them all, deeming them pagan artifacts, except for the one at Chartres.”
“Why spare Chartres?”
Vigor shook his head. “That cathedral has always been the exception to the rule. Its roots in fact are pagan, built atop the Grotte des Druides, a famous pagan pilgrimage site. And to this day, unlike any other cathedral, not a single king, pope, or famous personage is buried beneath its stones.”
“But that doesn’t answer why the maze was repeated down here,” Kat said.
“I can imagine a few explanations. First, the Chartres maze was based on a drawing from a second-century Greek text of alchemy. Fitting symbol for our lost alchemists. But the labyrinth at Chartres was also representative of journeying from this world to paradise. Worshippers in Chartres would crawl on hands and knees along this tortuous path from the outside until they reached the center rosette, representing symbolically a pilgrimage from here to Jerusalem, or from this world to the next. Hence the maze’s other names. Le Chemin de Jerusalem. ‘The Road to Jerusalem.’ Or le Chemin du Paradis. ‘The Road to Paradise.’ It was a spiritual journey.”
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