by David Wood
The passage in which they found themselves was scarcely wide enough for two people to walk abreast, and the ceiling was so low that it barely cleared the top of Bones’ head. It ran only about ten paces in each direction, each end terminating at a stone door flanked by Doric columns and surmounted by a Roman-style arch.
“So, do we take a left turn at Albuquerque?” Bones flicked his light back and forth, examining each door in turn. “Of course, I don’t see any rabbits in here.”
The figures of five women were carved in each door. The women on the left held containers and gazed out with expectant expressions on their faces. Maddock marveled at the skill of the sculptor whose stonework could convey such emotion. The women in the carving to the right averted their faces, some looking down, and one even covering her face with the hem of her cloak.
“Weird.” Maddock mulled their options. “I know which door I’m inclined to stay away from.” He indicated the women with downcast and averted faces, “But I’d like something more solid to go on.”
Jade narrowed her eyes and looked like she was about to say something when Angel chimed in.
“I know this story. These are the ten virgins!” She smiled and punched Bones in the shoulder. “Dude! I remember it from vacation Bible school when we were kids.”
“I was going to say the same thing,” Jade agreed. “Not my specialty, but I felt pretty sure. Angel just confirmed it.”
“Ten virgins. Nice.” Bones grinned and danced out of the way before Angel could punch him again.
“So what’s the story?” It sounded familiar to Maddock, but that was about it.
“It’s a parable, also known as the Wise and Foolish Virgins. Ten virgins waited late into the night for the bridegroom to arrive. The foolish virgins,” Jade pointed to the door on the right, “were unprepared and had no oil for their lamps. They are left out of the marriage feast. The wise virgins were prepared, so they were rewarded. It’s supposed to be a lesson to always be ready for the second coming. To always keep the light burning, so to speak.”
“Wise Virgins,” Maddock looked to the door on the left, “and Wise Men.” He looked upward. “Can’t be a coincidence.”
“Let’s do it.” Bones strode to the door.
“Wait up!” Angel said, hurrying after him. “You guys have done crap like this before. I’ve never gotten to open a big, scary door.”
Bones stepped aside. “Be my guest.” He motioned with both hands, doorman-style, and shook his head like a bemused parent as she brushed past him.
What had looked like a single door was actually two. A fine line ran up the center, and an iron ring was set on each side. “Here we go. One for each of us.” Angel grabbed hold of one of the rings and indicated Bones should take the other. They heaved in unison, and the doors swung outward on unseen hinges. The space behind was pitch black. Angel put a hand out, as if the darkness itself had substance.
“Somebody with a flashlight can go first.”
Chuckling, Bones led the way. They entered a room twenty paces long and ten across. Columns lined the walls and arches rose up to support the vaulted ceiling. An altar of white marble stood in the center of the room. At the far end, the figure of a nude man was carved into the wall. He held a cup in one hand and an ivy-wrapped staff in the other, and leaned against a stump wrapped in grape vines with bunches of grapes hanging from the top.
“Dionysus.” Bones said. “God of wine and hard-partying. That’s the man right there!”
“Bacchus, actually.” Jade shone her light on the figure. “He’s the Roman version of Dionysus. Subtle differences but, in essence, the same.”
“A temple to one of the old Roman gods down here underneath one of the best-known cathedrals in the world?” Maddock shook his head. “This is crazy.”
“Maybe not. The Romans came here in 50 AD, long before Christianity took hold in their empire. There are plenty of Roman ruins in, and even under, Cologne. I’ll wager this place pre-dates the cathedral.” Jade played her light around the temple. “It’s interesting that the way down here was preserved and that someone along the way didn’t destroy it. You’d think the church would consider this place blasphemous.”
Maddock mulled that over as he approached the altar. The darkness in the room had hidden what lay atop it. It was a black figure of vaguely human shape. His first, terrible thought was of a badly burnt child, but when the beam of his light fell upon the crowned head, he knew it was something else entirely.
“Jade, do you see what I see?”
“It’s the Milan Madonna!” Jade hurried to the altar and leaned down for a closer look. She glanced up at the confused faces all around her. “The Madonna upstairs is actually the second one. The old cathedral was destroyed by fire in 1248, and it was thought the original Madonna was destroyed as well, but apparently not, because here she is.”
“The priest must have wanted us to find her, but why?” Maddock looked down at the blackened figure. Only the head was recognizable. The rest merely a scorched remnant of what had once been a classic work of art.
“I’ve got a crazy idea.” Bones moved around the altar and stood at the Madonna’s head. “You’ve got the three kings. Kings wear crowns.” With that, he placed a hand on the statue’s head, grasped the crown in the other, and twisted.
Maddock winced, wondering if his friend was going to destroy a piece of history, but the crown came free in his hand.
“It’s hollow.” Jade reached inside and withdrew a stone disc about the width of a man’s hand. She held it up and shone her light on it. The three hares were carved on one side, and tiny writing was engraved in an ever-tightening spiral on the back. “It’s German,” she whispered, “an old form. We’ll need someone to translate this for us.”
Everyone jumped as the silence was broken by the sound of stone sliding on stone and a loud crash reverberated through the temple as the doors swung closed. Maddock and Bones hurried over and pushed against them, but the doors did not budge. Jade and Angel joined them, and they searched for a release lever, but to no avail. They were trapped.
Chapter 4
Niklas looked both ways before exiting the treasury. It had been a frustrating search. The American, who had been put in charge of this mission, had said that they were looking for “instructions” and that he would know it when he found it. The man’s face had contorted with rage when they had opened the Shrine of the Three Kings and found only those strange skulls. Of course, the man’s scarred face, partly hidden by the wraparound sunglasses he wore day and night, always looked like it was twisted into a scowl.
The priests had been of no use. They had tortured them one by one and hadn’t gotten a thing out of them. The ensuing search, thorough but careful, had proved equally fruitless. Niklas exchanged nervous glances with Ulrich as they stood in the snow and waited for their leader to give them further instructions.
The American was a bear of a man with a personality to match. Despite his battered body and pronounced limp, he moved with a confident, deadly air, like a caged beast ready to be unleashed at any moment. Niklas had seen him lose control only once, and it was not a sight he wanted to ever witness again.
“I think we’re done here.” The voice was a low growl. “I’ve changed my mind about those freak skulls. We’ll take them with us. They must be a clue though I can’t see how.”
Privately, Niklas thought they should have taken the skulls with them in the first place, but the scarred man’s rage had been so overwhelming that he had refused to even look at them, and neither Niklas nor Ulrich was about to argue with him. At least he had changed his mind. At worst, they would have something to show their superiors.
They slipped back inside the cathedral, the warm air a welcome after the chilly winter breeze. Niklas moved silently, more out of habit than necessity. It was after hours and they had dispatched the few living men inside the Kölner Dom. There was no danger.
They rounded the corner of the transept, turned toward the n
ave, and froze. A man sat on the floor alongside the dead priests. His face was buried in his hands and he was speaking softly, the rhythm of his words indicating he was at prayer.
The American held a finger to his lips. He motioned for Ulrich to keep watch at the main entrance and for Niklas to follow him. He moved like a shadow across the floor, impressive considering his bulk and awkward gait. He was on the praying man in an instant, wrapping his thick arm around the man’s throat like a python squeezing its prey, and lifting him up off the ground. The man kicked, flailed, and made squelching noises, but froze when the American spoke.
“You answer my questions, you might live.”
That was surely a lie, but it wasn’t Niklas’ problem.
“You try anything at all and you die. Painfully. Understand?”
The man nodded. He kept his eyes squeezed shut, as if he could deny what was happening.
The American sat him down and the man dropped to his knees. He was shaking so hard he could barely remain upright.
“Tell me what you know.”
“I... I know nothing. I come here to study...”
Snap! The American broke the man’s little finger eliciting a shriek of agony.
“Shut up and listen.” His tone was enough to cut off their prisoner’s screams. “I can tell when you’re lying. I can tell when you leave things out. And I... don’t... care... how much I hurt you. I’ll cut your eyeballs out and eat a damn Big Mac while I do it. You got me?”
Niklas’ limited knowledge of American cuisine did not include ‘damn Big Mac’ but the words seemed to do the job. He saw the paltry bit of resistance drain from the man as his shoulders sagged and his chin fell to his chest.
Torture was something only an exceptional person could endure for any length of time. He had faced his share as part of his training prior to induction into the Heilig Herrschaft. Maintaining one’s focus on the Most Holy was central to the denial of pain. Academics like the man who cowered before them usually broke quickly, for they had faith in nothing.
“Tell me everything.”
The prisoner nodded vigorously and launched into an explanation, his words coming in short, disjointed bursts as if each phrase was trying to jostle the others out of the way so it could be heard first.
“One priest was not dead. He made no sense. He said he had a secret. Mailänder Madonna. Dreihasenbild. He made no sense.”
“That can’t be everything.” The American reached for the knife at his waist, but the prisoner kept talking.
“He tried to say something else, but he died. All he said was ‘ewige’ and then he died.” The prisoner stiffened as if waiting for something to happen. Indeed, Niklas expected the American to kill the man soon, if not now. “It is true. I swear it!” The man’s eyes remained firmly shut. This might be a bad dream, but it was one from which he would not wake.
The American looked around and froze.
“Where are the skulls?” His voice was velvet soft, and it sent frozen fingers like the touch of a spirit down Niklas’ spine.
The man hesitated and, for a moment, Niklas thought the fellow might try to hold something back, but courage apparently failed him.
“The others took them. I was giving them a tour, and they took the skulls.”
“Did they hear the priest’s words?” Heat rose in the American’s voice.
“Yes. They hear everything. Then they took the skulls and left. I stayed here to wait for die Polizei.”
So the authorities were on their way. That changed things. Niklas looked around as if uniformed men lurked in the shadows.
“I want names, and fast.”
“I do not know them all. They introduced themselves quickly and then we saw the priests.” The man was shaking; clearly fearing this lack of knowledge would cost him his life. “One man was a red Indian. A big man, almost two meters tall. There was a woman, also a red Indian. I do not remember their names. And there was another man and woman.”
“You’d better come up with at least one name or the remainder of your very short life will be filled with pain.”
“Verzeih mir,” the man whispered. Forgive me. “Jade Ihara. She was a colleague...”
“Jade Ihara the archaeologist?”
“Ja.” The man nodded, his body quaking.
“They are here!” Ulrich called. “They did not use their sirens. We have no time.”
The American let out roar of rage and frustration and clubbed the prisoner across the temple, knocking him unconscious.
The three men dashed back to the transept and slipped outside, past the treasury, and across the street. Ten minutes later they were in their vehicle, driving along the Rhine. The American sat in the passenger side, muttering to himself. Niklas finally broke the silence.
“This Jade Ihara, you know her?” He bit his lip, waiting for the explosion, but it did not come.
“Oh yes. I know her well, and if I don’t miss my guess, I know the men she’s with. But they think I’m dead.”
Chapter 5
“You have got to be kidding me.” Angel’s tone was as flat as her stare as she stepped back and regarded the closed door. “I thought you guys were winding me up when you told me about your crazy adventures.”
“I wish.” Maddock shone his light on the door and ran his fingers along its surface, but felt no switch or lever. “The good news is, there’s always a way out.”
“How can you be sure?” Angel didn’t sound doubtful– only curious.
“You see any remains in here? Obviously, everyone who came in here left again. We just need to figure out how.” He continued to search. “Let’s start by looking for either the sign of the three hares or the wise virgins. This is a pagan temple, so I think the hares are more likely.”
They spread out and continued the search. It wasn’t long before Jade called everyone over to the Bacchus frieze.
“I found the hares!” She shone her light over a bunch of grapes.
Maddock and the others circled around behind her and looked where she indicated. He frowned.
“I don’t see anything but grapes.”
“You won’t at first. Step back and squint.” Jade turned and flashed a bright smile. “Tilt your head if you have to.”
They must have made an odd-looking trio, the three of them leaning to and fro, looking from different angles, trying to see what Jade saw. She moved the side and shone her light across the carving, casting it in long shadows.
“There it is!” Bones’ voice was triumphant. “It’s like one of those weird posters where you have to let your vision go all fuzzy before you can see it.”
Almost as soon as Bones had spoken, Maddock saw it too. It wasn’t quite a stereogram, but some of the grapes were raised far above the others, and when seen in the proper light, the image swam into focus, forming a shape that resembled the three hares.
“Give it a push.” Maddock held his breath as Jade pressed her palm to the carving. He saw no seam that would indicate that the hare sign was anything other than a clever artistic detail, but after a moment, Jade’s hand slowly moved forward as the hares slid into the wall. Something snapped into place and the wall sank slowly into the floor, revealing an upward-sloping passageway, the twin of the one that had brought them here.
The way was long and steep, but uneventful. They finally came to a blank wall. The ceiling here was low, and even Jade had to duck to avoid banging her head. Maddock shone his light on the ceiling. There were no hares or wise virgins here, only two handholds set in a square stone as wide as his shoulders. He reached for it and hesitated. What, or who, would they find on the other side?
“Do you think we’re back at the cathedral?” Angel asked.
“No. This tunnel was almost a straight shot moving away from the cathedral. I think we’re closer to the river.” The air was cooler here and, he thought, just a touch more humid.
“Does it really matter?” Bones stared up at the trapdoor as he spoke. “It’s not like there�
�s anywhere else to go.”
“True.” Maddock nodded. “Tell you what. If we wind up in the middle of someone’s living room, you and Angel start talking in Cherokee and Jade can chime in with Japanese. Act confused and get the hell out of there.”
“What about you?” Bones eyed him, an amused smile on his lips. “What other language do you speak, Maddock?”
Maddock grinned. He knew a smattering of German and French, and enough Spanish to order drinks and a meal and to ask for directions to the bathroom, but none of those would help. “Pig Latin.”
Bones chuckled as the two of them pushed up on the trapdoor. They lifted it up and set it over to the side. Up above, faint yellow light flickered on an arched stone roof.
“Another cathedral,” Maddock muttered. He helped the others up and then climbed out with an assist from Bones. Looking around, he knew immediately he had been correct. This was not the Kölner Dom. The interior, though impressive in its architecture, was austere. It lacked Kölner Dom’s splendor, the stained glass one of the few sources of color.
“This is St. Martin’s,” Jade whispered. “It was almost destroyed in World War II and rebuilt afterward.”
“You can tell us all about it later.” Maddock slid the stone back into place, took Jade’s hand, and led the way out.
Just before they reached the doors leading out, a white-robed man appeared. He spotted Maddock, frowned, and opened his mouth to speak. And then he spotted Bones. As was often the case, the sight of the massive Cherokee rendered him speechless. He gaped as Bones took out his wallet, withdrew a twenty, and pressed it into the monk’s hand.
“A da ne di.” Bones smiled, patted the monk on the shoulder, and led the way out.
“What did you say to him?” Jade asked.
“I told him, in Cherokee, to get himself a happy ending massage.”
“He’s lying.” Angel seemed to have given up punching her brother, and gave him a dirty look instead. “He told him it was a gift.”
“It was either that or punch the dude. I figured he has enough problems already. You know, no cash, boring clothes, no babes.”