The Devil's Path (An Alexander Scott Novel Book 1)

by Richard Turner

  “You and your precious Order can all go to hell,” snarled Kate.

  “I doubt that,” quipped Karl. “Now I need you to join Mister Scott and retrieve the Grail for me,” Karl said as he drew his pistol from his holster and aimed it directly at Kate’s heart. “I do hope you like climbing,” said Karl as he waved at the rope with his pistol.

  Looking down into the dark hole, a primal fear coursed through her veins as if warning her to stay away, to dare not enter where she was not wanted, but she knew that her fate was already sealed. Stepping down onto a ledge just below the opening to the crevice, Kate grabbed a hold of the rope, and with her heart pounding away, she stepped off into the darkness and disappeared from sight. After about ten harrowing minutes in the dark, scrambling along the icy surface of the fissure, Kate’s feet found the ledge that led into the tunnel. It was near pitch-black in the passageway. She could hear the sound of people climbing down the rope above her. Stepping aside, she was not surprised to see Karl Wollf, his sister and couple of his bodyguards climb out onto the outcropping. With a lantern in one hand and his pistol in the other, Karl took the lead.

  Scott walked around the vessel from stem to stern, still finding it hard to believe that such a thing could possibly be here. He found several old reed torches on brass mounts that seemed to form a perimeter around the long-abandoned vessel. Moving along, Scott lit them all, bathing the cavern in light. Scott judged the boat to be about one hundred feet long and perhaps twenty feet wide, with a house-like structure resting in the middle of the boat. There was a single large mast on the ship. Its sail and rigging were neatly tied up and placed out of the way as if in preparation to set sail again with the morning tide. A large ornately-painted oar with a stylized golden eagle on it was mounted on the bow of the vessel.

  Something nagged at the back of his conscious mind, telling him to be wary. Realizing that time was ticking away, Scott found a set of stairs dug into the rocky pedestal at the front of the boat. He was about to climb them when he saw something that nearly made him jump out of his skin with fright. Sitting beside the stairs, looking up at him through glassy eyes, was a boy in his early teens. Stepping over to the body, Scott could see that he was dead. He was dressed in filthy rags and linens that looked like they belonged on someone from another time, but he looked as if he had died only days before. Sadly, Scott saw that the boy’s face looked pained. Gently checking his body, Scott saw that he had broken his leg, perhaps slipping and falling off the rock pedestal. He could imagine the boy lying all alone, slowly waiting to die of shock. Scott shook his head at such a senseless and tragic loss. Feeling he couldn’t just leave the boy where he was, Scott gently laid the boy down on the ground and then slowly dragged the body away from the stairs. He wasn’t sure what he would do, but a decent burial in the ground at the base of the mountains seemed more fitting than being left inside the cold, dark mountain for all eternity.

  The unexpected sound of voices and rocks being moved aside from behind Scott startled him. Laying the young man down, Scott drew his pistol and warily turned towards the noise. He was positive that it wasn’t any of his men. The only conclusion he could come up with was that they must have been overrun and that the Turks had arrived.

  A shape climbed through the enlarged opening. Scott took a deep breath and aimed his pistol at it.

  Something in the back of his mind told him to wait. A second later, a familiar shape slowly stood up. It was Kate. His heart leapt with joy at seeing her alive. He almost ran over to her, but stood his ground as more people entered the cavern.

  “Drop your pistol, or I’ll shoot Miss O’Sullivan in the back,” said Karl Wollf, seeing the weapon in Scott’s hand.

  Scott had no doubt that he would do what he said. Letting go of his pistol, he let it drop to the floor. With a smile, Scott kicked it away into the dark. If he couldn’t have it, neither could they.

  Kate had no trepidation. With tears in her eyes, she bolted from Karl and threw her arms around Scott. Her heart was beating wildly. Reaching up, she grabbed Scott’s stubble-covered face and passionately kissed him on the lips.

  “How touching,” said Viktoria Wollf as she walked past.

  Kate let go of Scott and looked into his tired, bloodshot eyes. She grabbed his hand and quickly told him what had happened on the surface.

  Scott’s eyes narrowed. His gaze fixed on Karl Wollf, a look of anger and vengeance burning in his eyes.

  Kate was about to step aside, when she nearly tripped over the body of the dead boy. A horrified gasp escaped her lips when she looked down at the desiccated body at her feet.

  Pulling Kate back, Scott was stunned to see that the boy seemed to have aged and mummified in mere seconds. Looking from the boy to the vessel sitting silently on the rocky pedestal, Scott began to realize that the boy had never aged as long as he was near the boat. The instant Scott had moved his body, he’d aged hundreds of years in the blink of an eye. Scott didn’t understand it, but the ancient vessel somehow affected the space around it.

  “Who is that?” asked Viktoria in English, looking down dismissively at the remains lying on the cavern floor.

  “I don’t know,” replied Scott honestly. “He was here when I arrived.”

  “He looks to be dressed in the robes of a knight’s page,” said Kate, getting over the shock of seeing the aged body lying in the open.

  “I wonder if he was with the knight who brought the Grail here after Constantinople fell,” mused Scott. “There was a large sword frozen in the ground at the entrance to the cave. It could have been his.”

  “I didn’t see it,” Kate said, “but then again, I wasn’t really looking for it either.”

  Karl Wollf took off his gloves and walked up the rocky stairs until he came to the vessel. Placing his hand on the side of the reed construction, he walked down the side of the craft, letting his fingers drag along the surface. “It’s papyrus,” exclaimed Karl. “It feels magnificent, as if it were made yesterday.”

  “More like several thousand years ago,” said Kate. “From its design and use of papyrus, I would say this vessel is Sumerian from at least two to three thousand BC, if not older.”

  Viktoria Wollf shook her head. “I had hoped for Noah’s Ark. It would be a more worthy find, not this tiny vessel from ancient Persia,” she quipped.

  “There are many versions of the great flood,” explained Kate. “Many cultures and religions have stories in which a deluge wiped out all those but the pure of faith. The story of Noah’s Ark is but one story. It is found in the Quran, the Bible and the Torah, which itself predates the Bible by centuries, so it’s not unexpected that the story as it was passed from generation to generation, from religion to religion, would slowly change until it no longer resembled the original tale.”

  “Yes, I agree, but here is a vessel on Mount Ararat, just where the Bible said it came to rest,” said Karl.

  “Actually the Bible isn’t that specific,” countered Kate. “Scholars and romantics, my father included, picked Mount Ararat because its name best fits the description in the Bible.”

  “Nevertheless, Miss O’Sullivan, here we are and here rests a vessel in truly remarkable condition that it defies explanation,” said Karl with a grin on his face.

  “I have no answer for that.”

  “Bring her and Colonel Scott up here,” ordered Karl.

  Karl’s two goons approached with their pistols aimed at Scott and Kate.

  With a reassuring smile, Scott took Kate by the hand. Together they walked up the stairs and onto the rocky pedestal.

  “Miss O’Sullivan and her father believe the Ark may contain a trap,” said Karl to Scott.

  “How the hell do you know that?” stammered Kate.

  “You were under constant surveillance in your room. Do you honestly think that we wouldn’t try to listen to your conversations?” said Karl. “Now since you both seem to have developed a knack of surviving every trap ever laid for either of you, I suspect that y
ou should be able to find and disarm any surprises that may still be lurking on the Ark.”

  “If we refuse?” said Scott, his voice defiant.

  “Then I kill Miss O’Sullivan before your eyes,” said Karl coldly. “Let’s not play anymore games now, Colonel Scott. I want the Grail, and you are going to deliver it to me…now!” snapped Karl.

  “Since you put it that way,” said Scott, looking into the eyes of a man balanced precipitously on the edge of insanity.

  With a smile, Scott reached up and pulled himself up and over the side of the Ark. Half anticipating a spear to fly out of some ancient trap into his chest, Scott hesitated for a moment, before turning and offering Kate, his hand. “It’s safe,” said Scott as he hauled Kate up onto the wooden deck of the boat.

  Kate stood there speechless. The deck was loaded with wooden crates and ceramic containers filled with grain and other food. The ship looked as if it had just arrived in dock. Nothing seemed out of place on board the Ark. Taking the lantern out of Scott’s hand, she raised it up until she could see the large wooden structure that must have been where the ship’s owner would have lived with his family and their livestock. Treading gingerly, Kate walked over. She could see that there was a door on it, and it was locked.

  Scott saw the lock and frowned. “Between the two of us, I may not be the smart one here,” said Scott to Kate, “but that lock looks oddly out of place.”

  Kate stepped back, looked up at Scott, and smiled. “You’re plenty smart enough for a Yankee,” teased Kate. “And yes you are right, it looks like one from the medieval period.”

  “I bet I know who placed it on there too,” said Scott, thinking about the poor boy lying on the cavern floor.

  “What do you want to do?” asked Kate, nervously eyeing the lock.

  “Were they serious…is this place booby-trapped?” asked Scott under his breath.

  The sound of people climbing over the side made Scott look behind; it was the Wollfs.

  Kate leaned into Scott. “My father and I found references to the Ark being pure and holy, and that it was not to be disturbed by the hands of man. We took that to mean that it was dangerous, maybe even booby-trapped. However, beyond that, I can’t say for sure.”

  “Hurry up,” barked Viktoria.

  “Do you wish to open this door?” asked Scott, pointing towards the lock. “For all I know, the instant we try to pry it open, the whole cavern could collapse in on us.”

  Both Karla and his sister looked up and then stood there quietly.

  “We can’t stand here all day,” said Scott as he reached over and grabbed hold of the metal lock.

  Kate grimaced and held her breath.

  “I bet I can open this,” said Scott, digging under his shirt for his medallion. Pulling it out, he fed it into the lock. Turning it, he heard the lock tumble inside and then with a loud click, it popped open in Scott’s hands.

  Kate looked disbelievingly at the medallion as Scott removed it from the lock and then hid it back under his shirt.

  “It’s a bit of a long story that I’ll tell you later. Here goes nothing,” Scott said as he grabbed the closed door and pulled it open.

  Nothing happened.

  This time Scott let out a deep breath.

  “What can you see?” demanded Karl. “Is the Grail inside?”

  “Hold on,” said Scott, his patience with the Wolffs diminishing by the second. “I haven’t stepped inside yet.”

  Taking the lantern from Kate, Scott stepped inside the room. He had barely gone a couple of feet when he stopped and stared in amazement. Inside the structure were row after row of shelves piled high with books, scrolls, parchments, and relics dating back well before the time of Christ. It was a scholar’s dream, a veritable treasure house of ancient and biblical objects.

  “My God,” said Kate as she stepped inside beside Scott, her mouth agape as she took in the priceless relics stored throughout the room. She recognized the legendary Holy Lance that was used to kill Christ on the crucifix. Resting beside it was the crown of thorns he wore on the way to his death. Lying in a row were the nails used to secure him to the cross. She saw parchments that contained the original testaments. She couldn’t begin to comprehend the depth of knowledge and history stored inside The Ark.

  “Have you found the Grail?” impatiently asked Viktoria, standing just outside the room.

  “I don’t know,” answered Kate. “There are just so many different artefacts and relics in here to even begin to know which one is the Cup of Christ,” Kate said, staring at a whole row of cups, some wooden, some made of clay and yet more made of brass and copper, some ornamental, some plain, but all of them unique.

  “Step outside,” ordered Karl.

  Scott and Kate exchanged a look and then did as they were told.

  Viktoria Wollf kept an eye on them while her brother stepped inside. A minute later, he emerged with an amazed look on his face.

  “My dear sister, this is unbelievable,” stammered Karl. “There is so much more than the Grail inside there. With these artefacts, we will wield power over The Council for untold generations,” he said, his eyes ablaze with dreams of power and glory. “I can cure father, and then seamlessly assume control of The Order with these treasures.”

  “There could be a slight problem with that plan,” replied Viktoria as she swung her pistol over until it faced Karl.

  “What is this?” said Karl, looking down the barrel of a pistol. “Viktoria, just what the hell are you doing?”

  “Plans change my dear brother,” replied Viktoria, her voice as cold as ice. “The Council only gave you the go ahead with your private little quest on one condition. And that was that I ensure that the dynamics of power in our family change irrevocably once you found the Grail.”

  “I don’t understand,” muttered Karl.

  “It’s very simple. The world is on the cusp of great changes. The Council sees this and so do I. The old order has to adapt or be discarded,” lectured Viktoria. “You and father represent the old order, and I have decided that I, not you, should sit on The Council.”

  “You cannot mean this,” said Karl, his voice angry as it sunk home that his sister had turned against him. “You…you are a Wollf!”

  “Yes, the last of my family shortly,” said Viktoria as she pulled the trigger of her pistol. The sound of the gun firing echoed loudly inside the cavern.

  Karl Wollf stood for a second, his eyes staring at his sister, before turning glassy. With a loud thump, his dead body crumpled over onto the deck.

  Swiftly turning her pistol towards Scott, she smiled menacingly. “I wouldn’t get any ideas, Colonel Scott. I think that you will recognize my pistol as a repeater.”

  Scott ground his teeth. She was right. He would be dead before he made it a yard.

  Bringing her fingers to her lips, Viktoria Wollf let out a loud whistle. Seconds later, Karl’s men climbed over the side. Both men saw Karl’s dead body lying on the deck, a pool of blood forming beneath it. With a sharp nod, both men stood up straight and acknowledged their new master.

  “Grab some sacks, anything that will hold a lot of items,” said Viktoria to the two men.

  A couple of minutes later, they returned with a couple empty sacks each.

  “Go inside and grab all of the cups and then anything else of value that can be carried,” ordered Viktoria.

  “You’re destroying priceless artefacts,” protested Kate as she could hear the men ransacking the room. “This place needs to be studied and catalogued, not robbed.”

  “I don’t give a damn about this place and its artefacts,” retorted Viktoria. “I told The Council that I would deliver them the Grail and that’s exactly what I intend to do.”

  “You’re a bitch,” said Kate, near tears.

  “Well if you’re so interested in the Ark and its precious treasures, then you and Colonel Scott can stay with it forever. Once I reach the surface, I will have the tunnel sealed and you two can spend eternit
y down here together.”

  Scott bit his lip, raised his hands and then, shaking his head, he stepped back.

  “A wise decision, Mister Scott,” said Viktoria, waving to the side of the ship with her pistol.

  Scott and Kate climbed down and then stood aside while Viktoria’s thugs climbed down with their sacks full of pilfered artefacts.

  With a smug look on her face, Viktoria vaulted over the side of the Ark, landing as flawlessly as a gymnast.

  “Now, Mister Scott, if you would be so good as to walk in front of us,” said Viktoria Wollf, waving her pistol at him.

  Scott looked down at Kate and saw a bitter look etched on her delicate face. Taking her by the hand, Scott began to walk.

  Chapter 43

  The Mountain

  Duval looked at his pocket watch. The Wollfs had been gone a long time. He was growing nervous. He had hoped that they could be off the side of the mountain before night fell.

  Looking over at Sarik and Thomas standing in the snow under guard, Duval had an idea to help pass the time. Walking over, he looked into the eyes of his captured foes. The tall black sailor looked back proudly at Duval, as if he had never been defeated. The other, the older Turk, his eyes blazed with hate and anger. It would be a pleasure to see them both die.

  Calling over the surviving senior Turkish NCO, Duval gestured at Sarik and Thomas and then drew his finger across his throat. The soldier nodded his understanding; quickly, he gave orders for a firing squad to form up facing them.

  Duval grinned and then stepped aside.

  “Do you want blindfolds?” asked the Turkish NCO to Sarik.

  Sarik turned to face the man. “Why do you follow orders from such an animal?” asked Sarik, before he spat on the ice.

  “Why do you work with grave robbers and thieves?” said the soldier.

  Sarik let out a deep chuckle. “You have been lied to. The people you are working for are nothing more than scum. They intend to steal whatever they can from the tomb deep inside this mountain and then leave you and you men up here to die.”