‘Achieving stability is a complex problem,’ the Grand Master said, his expression thoughtful. ‘Sometimes achieving it requires disposing of those who had earlier betrayed us. That may sound like revenge but in reality it is quite coincidental:
‘Our goal is worldwide integration. You have already seen the New Republic in France free of autocrats and aristos operating free of religious interference. In the past a man was judged on his beliefs. Men have even given their lives for it. But it is by actions, not beliefs, that men must be judged.’
Velis walked slowly. ‘Love thy neighbour,’ he said, almost laughing to himself. ‘The words of Christ himself encourage integration. But the Crusades that were once presented as justified violence were nothing more than pointless genocide inspired by the greed of the corrupt and the weak. By the end the Templars realised this and Jacques de Molay knew that the King of France would betray him. In his wisdom he knew that his men would be tortured and their resources confiscated. But he wanted to ensure his vision would continue.’
Velis paused momentarily.
‘The problem with religion is that its practices develop on the word of self-anointed prophets and act under the rule of puppets who incite so-called justified violence. They say it is God’s will. Such stupid beliefs remain at the forefront of our society and culture,’ he said walking away from Gabrielle.
‘Love thy neighbour,’ he said again. ‘Religion is supposed to encourage stability, not threaten it. The ideals of Christianity are magnificent yet they are invariably overlooked. Over the centuries the Templars have remained loyal to their cause and in doing so helped to ensure that the mistakes of the past will be eliminated. Social change takes time, but eventually the world will learn to accept our point of view. That is the true mission of the order.’
Velis smiled. ‘This is where Christianity’s future must lie: where every religion’s future must lie. A Church that supports the true nature of religion: a devotion that unites, that encourages understanding.’
A look of disgust overcame Gabrielle. ‘And what about your own justified violence? You know nothing about the feelings of others. What you say is twisted.’
‘Twisted?’ Velis said, removing his cigar from his mouth. ‘I’m afraid you are the one who is twisted. You yourself talk as though you mourn for those who have passed yet you are a prime example of one whose own actions are tainted. You talk to me about murdering innocents. Every day you live in your grand château or luxury mansion surrounded by luxuries that surpass the wealth of many African towns and villages not giving a thought for those living on the streets on less than a dollar a day. You say every life is sacred yet the very decisions you make confirm you value the life of an illiterate child in Africa less than a scarf; or that you would substitute the health of a large family from Bolivia in favour of a handbag. The very decisions you have once made may go so far as to confirm that you would overlook helping those who die each day in favour of a private jet.’
‘That’s not fair.’ Gabrielle shouted.
The bearded man laughed. ‘Corrupt politicians endorse foolish and greedy policies that cause the avoidable deaths of thousands every year yet they kiss one dying baby in a leukaemia ward in front of a camera and the ignorant vote in numbers. Governments see thousands of families made homeless every year and barely lift a finger yet twelve people are accidentally killed in a riot and a full scale investigation is launched costing the taxpayer tens of millions. One teenage slut gets raped and the liberals talk of the breakdown in moral fabric yet it was their own chequered human rights movements that now allow the abortions of thousands every year and the breakdown of the traditional values which could have given the rapist a better chance in life.
‘You talk of genocide and massacring innocents but what we do is not in vain. No. I wish that such sacrifices need not be required, but we both know such action is inevitable. Our vision is not without its costs but the world needs us. If only to protect it from itself.’
‘Including murdering my father?’ she shouted. ‘And how about injuring my uncle? Or Mike? Did you get him too?’
‘Your father was regrettable,’ he said, exhaling, a rare moment of sympathy. ‘As for your Swiss Guard, he seems to have slipped the net.’
Gabrielle smiled briefly, tears streaming down her face. Almost instantly her face returned to thunder.
‘Why did you hurt my uncle? What did he ever do to you?’
Velis’s expression lightened. ‘Perhaps I am not the person you should be talking to about such matters.’
Slowly the man hidden in the shadows stood from his seated position and walked towards Gabrielle. His face now visible in the dim light, he smiled warmly.
Mike parked Gabrielle’s Jaguar on the right side of the leafy street and switched off the engine. A loud ringing sensation dominated his ears as they adjusted to the quietness.
The street was peaceful and pleasant in appearance: countless trees lined either side, deciduous in nature, green in colour as appropriate for the time of year. On the opposite side of the road three dark sedans were parked outside a long gravelled driveway, leading to one of the street’s impressive mansions, hidden some five hundred yards behind electronic gates and imposing concrete walls.
The other side of the road was equally quiet. To his right, a paved sidewalk ran parallel to the street, crossing several imposing gated entrances to the mansions, also protected by walls. Behind him, a silver Audi was parked two hundred yards away whereas a black Merc was parked sixty feet in front of him: its insides veiled by tinted glass.
Mike inhaled deeply. He examined the street with eager eyes, searching for signs of life. He had seen many like it, yet none quite so opulent. Newport was famous for its summer mansions and this street was a prime example. Even Gabrielle was not so ostentatious.
Suddenly his mobile phone began to vibrate against the passenger seat. Without delay, he checked the message and saw that it was from Mark. There had been a text from Mark earlier.
The message was brief:
Wait for the signal.
Although there was no hint as to what the signal was, he scanned the street closely for any possible sign. For several seconds he saw nothing. Then, without warning, the lights of the Merc flashed briefly.
Understanding that was the signal, Mike exited the car and closed the door behind him. He locked the car electronically and walked casually towards the sidewalk, glancing briefly over his shoulder to check he was not being monitored. Within seconds he reached the car. Tentatively, he opened the rear left door.
He sat down on the back seat and closed the door behind him. On the rear right he saw a man dressed in a smart suit and black tie holding a biro in his left hand that was also perched to his lips. Although Mike did not recognise him he instantly twigged he was a Fed. On the front passenger side was Mark. The man with blond locks sat behind the wheel.
‘Hey, Mikey, what’s happening, baby?’ the man asked.
‘Alessandro,’ Mike said, unable to hide the surprise. ‘What the heck…’
‘Alessandro and Markus have been assisting us in our investigation,’ the suited man said. He had a shaven crew cut of dark brown hair in the style of a US Marine and a clean-shaven face. Mike guessed he was early fifties in age and was of senior grade.
‘That’s right,’ Sandro said. ‘I’ve been following you all over. Been your guardian angel. I watched you at Rosslyn. Even saved your life at Newport. Pity the dipshit got away. It was so dark I couldn’t see for shit.’
Mike grimaced as he looked at his friend. At least he knew who had been following him.
‘Mike, this is Mr. Pieterson, Deputy Director of the FBI,’ Mark said, turning in his seat.
Mike nodded briefly and shook the deputy director’s hand out of courtesy. Pieterson clicked his biro as he removed it from his mouth and leaned slightly across the seat.
‘Sergeant Frei, I’m sure this is a bit surprising for you to see me here,’ he said quietly. ‘May I call you Mike?�
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The Swiss Guard sat back slightly but retained eye contact with Pieterson. ‘Sure.’
‘I’m not going to go into detail, Mike; heck we don’t have the time. What you and Mr. Swanson did yesterday goes deeper than you know.’
For a second Mike looked worried.
‘Relax, sergeant, you’ve done more for us in one afternoon than we’ve managed since the beginning. Since the early ‘50s we’ve been trying to infiltrate the organisation known only to us as the Rite of Larmenius. No one who has become a member and told of its activities has come out alive and trust me many have tried. Most of its members are rich and successful yet they choose to keep themselves to themselves. Their surveillance of their own members and the wider world is almost unrivalled.’
Mike nodded, swallowing, but remained silent.
‘You see, Mike, we have known for many years of their involvement and possible funding of numerous murders and other criminal activities. From what Markus has told me you have stumbled onto something more: something beyond all expectation. This society are believed to have carried out over three thousand murders since 1945 and Lord knows how many before that. Each of these murders we understand to have been politically motivated by some higher authority. They call the shots, Mike. And thanks to your work with Mr. Swanson, we now have enough information to pull the plug.’
Mike nodded. ‘How about Starvel?’
‘Starvel itself we believe is legit, as, I’m sure, is Leoni et Cie. The activities of Mr. Velis, Mr. de Bois, Senator D’Amato and countless others, however, are not. We also have reason to convict a further eighty men in connection with Starvel and for other offences. These guys don’t play games. They have murdered in cold blood. I understand you have witnessed this. I’m sorry.’
Mike nodded once more. It was not unexpected, yet still tough to believe.
Pieterson smiled wryly. ‘You’ve done some fine work, Mike. I’d love to have the three of you working for me.’
Alessandro shook his head.
‘Mike would never leave the Swiss Guard,’ Mark said, ‘not with all the privileges that come with the job. Free trips to Scotland, rendezvous with old friends in Massachusetts…’
‘Living in châteaux with foxy ladies,’ Alessandro said.
Mike forced an awkward laugh. ‘Where is Gabrielle?’
Alessandro: ‘Ludo Gullet and another SOB took the foxy chick here,’ he said, pointing to a large mansion on the opposite side of the street. The exterior was only just visible, hidden behind the extensive covering of the wall. ‘I tailed his ass from your place right through Boston.’
Mike nodded.
‘One more thing,’ Mark said. ‘Cardinal Tepilo is in there with her. We think he’s been involved with Velis from the start.’
‘Impossible,’ Mike said, dumbstruck. ‘He…’
Mike paused mid-sentence. As much as he hated to believe it, it made complete sense.
‘He murdered his own nephew?’
Mark nodded. ‘Among other things.’
Mike looked at Pieterson. ‘But he’s the Vatican Secretary of State…the Camerlengo…the preferiti…’
He looked desperately at Mark and Sandro.
‘I’ve gotta get her out of there.’
‘We will do, son,’ Pieterson said strongly. ‘Thanks to you we have all we need to conduct a legal search.’
He pointed to three sedans on the other side of the road.
‘Each vehicle contains four armed officers,’ he said. ‘Once we have the place secure from the outside we can begin.’
Mike nodded and looked at his watch. He hoped they were not too late.
56
Gabrielle gaped: her expression strangely like that of a frog. Her mouth opened and closed involuntarily several times in quick succession as she sought to speak but failed.
Standing before her in the dim light of the mock medieval cloisters, her great-uncle, Cardinal Tepilo, smiled warmly. His posture was straight and his hair nicely in trim. He looked younger than he had of late. He didn’t look like a cardinal; instead he was dressed suitably for a regular priest relaxing at home, or even a regular retiree. He wore a green jacket around a plain white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, barely matching his black trousers and shoes. He had been sitting in the second most important seat: the one designated only to a Templar Sénéchal.
He looked at his niece with a warm expression but also strangely pleased with himself. Almost as though he had fooled everyone and was now about to reveal his secret.
‘I am sure this must be a little difficult for you to understand.’
‘No,’ she said firmly, her facial expression hardening. ‘This is quite straightforward. Uncle Roberto, how could you?’
‘Gabrielle, please. Let me explain.’
Gabrielle tried in vain to think of a response but just ended up shouting abuse. Tepilo leaned in closer and removed the cuffs from her hands. At first she raised her hands as if to strangle her uncle before punching him several times in the chest. The barrage of fists caused the ageing cardinal to lose his balance. Regaining composure, he grabbed her arms and tightened his grip on her. Finally through exhaustion she embraced him.
‘You bastard.’
Velis laughed as he returned to his seat at the far end of the table; his cigar continuing to glow in the darkness.
Gabrielle released herself from her great-uncle’s grip and wiped her eyes with her free hands. Mascara trickled from around her eyes, creating black marks on her cheeks. For several seconds neither said anything, but Gabrielle’s eyes said everything she wanted.
This simply could not be happening.
Gabrielle shook her head. ‘I can’t believe it,’ she said, wiping new tears from her eyes. A look of hatred crossed her face.
‘Gabrielle, my darling, you must understand, God loves each and every one of us. Just because there is religion, does not mean there is only God.’
Tepilo looked philosophically at his niece as he returned to his feet.
‘What Louis says is quite correct,’ he said with confidence. ‘What our order has achieved since its foundation has been quite extraordinary. Since our beginnings at the height of the Crusades we have brought real stability to France. Our efforts have seen two centuries of relative peace in Europe. We have established the most efficient banking system in the world and we even played a helping hand in the formation of this great nation.’
‘Spare me your crap. You talk about it as if you were there,’ she shouted, louder than she expected. ‘And what are you talking about relative peace in Europe?’
The cardinal stuttered momentarily. ‘Relatively speaking there has been less war in the last two centuries than ever before.’
‘But record loss of life.’
Tepilo frowned. Gabrielle shook her head, a look of disappointment and hatred in her eyes.
‘Why?’
Tepilo looked back thoughtfully. ‘Why? Gabrielle, please you must understand. This is God’s will.’
‘God’s will? You had your own nephew murdered. My father…’
Gabrielle’s eyes flowed with tears. Tepilo leaned forward.
‘Don’t you dare!’
Tepilo retreated. A look of remorse filled his eyes. ‘Gabrielle, please, you must understand. Life is full of sacrifice. The Catholic Church itself teaches such things. Nothing is ever straightforward.’
‘Don’t tell me. He’s already tried.’
The Sénéchal nodded, a thoughtful smile crossing his face. ‘My darling, Louis is quite right. What you must understand is that the activities of the Knights Templar are virtuous and our actions have merit. If it were not for our predecessors Europe would still be a place of turmoil. France would be cursed to remain in the Dark Ages. There would be no United Kingdom. There would be no United States of America, at least not as we know it. Gabrielle, you must understand the good we’ve done. The European Union, the Euro, the African Union, NATO, even the United Nations…’
; ‘How long?’ she interrupted. ‘How long have you been involved?’
Cardinal Tepilo contemplated the answer, as if calculating an exact number. ‘Thirty-two years next January as a Rite of Larmenius; I’ve only had this honour for just over fifteen.’
Gabrielle shook her head, tears returning to her eyes. ‘You oversaw the collapse of the Vatican Bank, Leoni et Cie, our family’s legacy, willingly,’ she said, louder than before. ‘You bled our family bank dry. You stole from the Roman Curia, the Holy See. You killed the former President of France, one of your own.’
‘Gabrielle, please understand, every project requires sacrifices, just as every leader faces some opposition: even if out of vanity. Mikael opposed the decisions that needed to be made and the sacrifices along the way. None of us like them.’
Gabrielle shook her head.
‘Gabrielle, all people need a shepherd, not just those of our faith. What we do will change the whole of the earth. The world needs a coordinator. Every major company has a board of directors.’
‘And even they are just puppets under your thumb.’
Velis laughed loudly, his face partially hidden in the darkness. A strange silence descended as Tepilo began to speak.
‘The Knights Templar have existed for nine hundred years, but, in many ways, nothing has really changed.’
‘I think the Crusades ended some time ago, eminence.’
Tepilo’s expression was a kind one. ‘Did they? Truly ask yourself: has the Kingdom of Jerusalem ever really been freed? My darling, the great Hugues de Payens formed our order for the protection of pilgrims. The task is never truly finished.’
Gabrielle looked up as if to hit him.
‘Over the years we have reached out far across the world. The Masons cross over eighty nations and continue the good work. The Rite of Larmenius is the same. The members of the original Knights Templar were the most gifted men of their time, and the most virtuous. Imagine if they had never survived? Imagine if the French Revolution had never happened. The Declaration of Independence.’
The Templar Agenda Page 53