Gold of the Knights Templar

by Preston W Child

  "What are you talking about, he's now your target."

  "Nope, you deal with him, the woman is mine."

  The assassin said and disappeared around the corner. Talbot dropped the metal and walked out too. "Clean this up," he said to one of his aides.

  The assassin was waiting outside, though. The assassin was standing beside his bike. "Miss Jackson is here?" he asked Talbot.

  Talbot nodded.

  The assassin smiled; it was ghastly. The game has just changed, and the bogeyman knew it. Two men, Talbot, and bogeyman, both killers, with different weapons. Talbot nodded.

  "We are all set."

  "Good," the assassin said and mounted his bike.

  Talbot got into his transportation.

  "Roll out! Roll out!"

  —

  The apartment looked exactly like Olivia imagined: unlived in.

  And it has been a long while. It smelled of rotten food, old clothes, and the hot defecate of a rat colony in the two rooms. The bed was made, the clothes were adequately tucked in the wardrobe and clothes hanger. The living room looked like someone recently went around putting things in their place, said Olivia.

  "But the kitchen is a disaster," Olivia said, standing at the door.

  Cockroaches clambered around dirty dishes in the sink. There was decaying cheeseburger on the countertop, and soggy green mess hung from the ribs of the stove.

  She looked at her brother, "Andrew, why do I feel like you've been here before, in this room?"

  Andrew turned away, he looked at the portrait of an old man on the wall. The man was dressed in English clothing. He wore a black jacket and a frilly collared shirt. White curly hair around the ears and his eyes slanted in the corners where the skin wrinkled lightly.

  No names of the artist.

  "What if I told you Poussin was English, Nathaniel Poussin," Andrew said without taking his eyes off the painting.

  "What is he talking about?" Liam asked Olivia.

  Olivia gestured for him to wait. She came toward his brother. The painting was old, but not enough to have been done earlier than the 17th century. Andrew continued, "no one knows who this is, it could have been one of the Poussins, or some relation. It could be anybody."

  "Is Nathaniel Poussin a real man?"

  "I told you he died."

  "But there's a Poussin who owns this apartment?"

  "Yes," Andrew turned to her, "I'm he."

  Olivia let out a laugh. Liam was beaming where he sat on the sofa too. He said, "he's kidding, right?"

  "I'm not."

  Olivia ran her fingers through her hair and closed her eyes. She felt dizzy with confusion; she dropped into the sofa beside Liam Murphy. The other guys gathered around.

  Olivia looked at his brother. “What’s going on, Andrew?”

  “The Templars sometimes assigned protection of their secrets to trusted non-members. It was easier. They tell you only what you need to know. When the Pope’s army came calling, they often found a man who knows nothing but a clue, a location, or in my case, the truth.”

  “The truth?”

  “Yes.”

  “And what is the truth?” Olivia asked, her heart beating terribly.

  “That the treasure is—”

  Olivia’s phone started ringing. Her breath caught in her throat. He answered the call.

  “Tom?”

  “We think Tami has been kidnapped, neighbors said they heard her scream, and being taken away in a car by some men.”

  “Oh, God.”

  She shut her eyes tight. Won’t this ever end?

  “I’m sorry. But we are gonna find Tami, alright. I’ve put my best detectives on it. How’s it going with the treasure hunt?”

  They bid each other goodbye.

  She looked at the team, “Tami’s disappeared.”

  Anabia moaned, “not again.”

  Olivia glanced at Andrew by the painting on the wall. He was still not meeting his glances, still holding back information. And she was getting irritable. But the presence of the other men made the circumstances improper for a query.

  Tami was gone. Olivia would have given up her quest if Tami said so.

  She started pacing, her hands shoved deep in her pockets. The others waited for her decision. But she waited for Andrew Gilmore to say something, anything.

  Finally, she said, “okay, what do you suggest we do, huh? Since you won’t tell us anything, you said you knew the truth, what’s the goddamn truth, Andrew, pray, tell?”

  “You’ve been misled.”

  “Yeah? Really? How?”

  “I’m under oath, I can’t tell you where the treasure is, Olivia.”

  “Oh, you know where it is then,” she laughed, and it sounded like a bark, she looked at the team, “he knows where the treasure is, haha, all this time, and Andrew knew where the gold is, how about that?”

  Miller walked over to Andrew, “Andrew, men have died because of this, and yet more will die—”

  “That’s why it remained a secret! That’s why I’m under oath not to tell anyone about it! Do you know how fucking heavy that burden is!? Can you?”

  “We understand perfectly, Andrew,” Miller entreated him.

  “No you don’t, none of you don’t, you just want the gold, you’re all just selfish opportunists. That was why you wanted the secret from the lab in the Antarctic. The Holy Grail and now, the Templars gold!”

  Olivia said, “your morality doesn’t matter, Andrew. It doesn’t matter to the Bogeyman, to Talbot or this Financier or whoever he fucking is. Your morality certainly didn’t save Capaldi or that lad in London or Morocco. Now they have Tami Capaldi too. They are trying to kill us because of it. They will find you too, eventually.”

  Andrew came away from the painting on the wall, he shook his head, “alright, let’s say I tell you where it is, or what it is, the Templars gold, what then? What will you do with it?”

  There was a collective exhalation of breath. Olivia looked around for support. Miller’s face was opaque. The others shifted in their seats. Liam’s mouth opened but shut up again. Olivia spread her hands, “well, we were gonna give the Financier in exchange for you. Then we found you and thought that we’d probably sell it, split the money, you know. But now, we are right back where we were. Tami’s been taken by the Financier. He wants the gold. So we’ll just give it to him and get Tami back.”

  Andrew was staring at her, a weary smile in his face. He was handsome, she thought. A humorous idea that if he wasn’t her brother, he’d have made a good boyfriend occurred to her.

  “So what now?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I don’t know what to do, you guys have risked your life for me.”

  Liam said, “you know, that woman back in Hixon, she said they’d love to let go of their burden of secrets, the gold. They’d love to be free. Maybe you should let it go too, Andrew.”

  Andrew sat in an empty chair and covered his face.

  Olivia’s cellphone sprang to life again.

  “Hello,” said a woman’s voice. It was low, furtive.

  “Who’s this?”

  Her mouth fell open. Her eyes widened.

  “Tami, is that you?”

  —

  Tami Capaldi was standing at the intersection of Via del Castro Lorenziano. She was taller than Olivia remembered. Tami wore a white tee and tight blue type of denim. She carried a black bag on her shoulder, her hair was piled up in a bun.

  She stepped back when she saw the truck as it parked in the curb. Her eyes widened when she saw Olivia get out of the car.

  They embraced. Tami’s eyes were red, blotched mascara around her eyes, yet she looked stunning. She gave the men in the car a dubious stare.

  “Who are those people, Olivia?”

  “They are friends, you have to come with us, you’ll be safe.”

  She pulled her hands, “no, there’s no safe, no one is safe until we find that Treasure. See they tried to take me, but I escaped, I had to com
e to Italy, I have family here.”

  Olivia frowned, “who’s after you? Who tried to take you?”

  “How am I supposed to know? They just appeared at the door, proprio cosi, just like that! So I ran!”

  Miller joined them. He introduced himself, so did the rest of the men. When Tami saw Andrew, a dark cloud passed her features, but the moment passed. If Andrew reacted to the woman, Olivia didn’t mind.

  “You need to come with us,” said Miller.

  “Where are we going?”

  Olivia looked at Andrew Gilmore and said, “Church of San Lorenzo.”

  Gilmore nodded.

  —

  Deep night time in Rome was as quiet as it would be in Miami. The restaurants had all closed, only a few Café’s stayed open all night, and some still served hot cappuccino and waffles. But Via Tiburtina was still alive when they came round, students from a nearby convent and foreigners seeking out the many rotundas around the area clustered in groups in the middle of the road.

  Diggs drove them through the rotunda of Alpini, it was a long cut, but it cut off the main road where they had gone through the previous day. Roman police could be staking the place, or the assassin and killers after them could be waiting.

  The plan was to come into the church through the back. If it were possible.

  Tami Capaldi’s cellphone rang. Her conversation was entirely in a sibylline Italian dialect.

  But in suspicion that Tami had just spoken her family, Olivia asked.

  “Who was that?”

  “My mama and my brother, Emilio.”

  Olivia started, “oh, you got your grandma here as well?”

  The woman smiled and nodded. Then she leaned her head against the window and became thoughtful.

  “I’m sorry all this happening to you, Tami, but it’s all gonna be alright soon.”

  Tami sobbed again, “I just miss him.”

  Olivia took the woman’s hand and squeezed tenderly.

  Diggs was slowing down already. They have arrived.

  The church of San Lorenzo grounds was dazzling with lamps in the parking lots. The same happened around the hedges and the porch too. The obelisk was light from the bottom by for separate up facing lamps, giving the historical figure an enchanted brio.

  Tami gasped, “It is beautiful.”

  There was no one around. Two small cars sat in the parking lot, they looked like cars that might be owned by a priest. Olivia held on to Tami like a child.

  “Come on, let’s go.”

  “Is the treasure here?”

  “Yes.”

  “And we are just going to take it. Are there no cops watching the place?”

  “I don’t see any.”

  Diggs and Miller took the lead. Diggs's head swiveled on his neck, searching for lurking killers. Or cops.

  The doors were ajar. The round priest was nowhere; harsh lights were on everywhere in the church. The pews lined like burnt pieces of bread left too long in the toaster. The rococo arts looked even more stunning at night without natural light.

  Quietly, the group went down the hallway through which the priest had taken them the first time. The monument of Nicholas Poussin was standing still in the middle of the hall. Just as they left it. Olivia glanced at her brother.

  “Andrew?”

  He stepped forward slowly, face drawn, he limped almost imperceptibly then. Olivia smiled, recalling the secret story behind the limp.

  Andrew Gilmore touched the heading of Nicholas Poussin, ran the tip of his finger down the nose and lips. He wrapped the face in his palms and closed his eyes, veins pulsated in his temple, and his lips thinned.

  He looked at Olivia and said, “this hasn’t been done in a hundred years.”

  Olivia nodded.

  Outside there was the sound of a vehicle. Diggs glanced at Borodin. The two men slipped away with drawn guns and proceeded towards the doors. Olivia

  “Andrew, now, let’s do this.”

  “Yes.”

  Andrew opened his eyes; he twisted the head of the statue. The stone would not bulge at first. It was a moment that Olivia felt something close to heartbreak. Even Liam, Anabia, and Miller held their breath.

  Liam looked like he might die any minute if the head of Nicholas Poussin doesn’t yield or if Andrew suddenly disappeared.

  There was a scraping sound from behind the back of the statue. Dust puffed from the crevices between the head and the pedestal. Andrew stepped back, a thoughtful expression on his face, he looked at Olivia.

  “I don’t understand, it should open up,” he said.

  Olivia looked from his face to the statue. “Why don’t you try again?”

  “I have done what I ought to—”

  There was a bang outside, a grunt, and the heavy sound a body made when it fell, running feet and heavy breathing. Borodin barged into the hall.

  He said, “they’re here!”

  Olivia’s feet faltered under her. How did the assassin know they were in the church so fast? Even as she reached for the gun in her waist, she knew it was almost impossible that this was happening. She saw Diggs take the tracker out of Andrew. She saw the former agent plant the transponder in Andrew’s jacket.

  “Get behind me, Tami, this is going to rough.”

  “Who are these people?”

  “Same people who killed Gabby.”

  “Oh, Jesus.”

  Miller and Liam readied. Borodin said they’d need to help Diggs.

  Olivia said, “I’m waiting here with Tami and Andrew.”

  “We have to leave, Olivia,” said Miller.

  “Help Diggs,” she retorted, Olivia turned to Andrew, “make it work, get it!”

  Tami pulled her hand, “are you sure?”

  “Yes, we’re not leaving without it!”

  Gun in hand, the two women, watched Andrew take another breathe and touched the statue again. He twisted the head, and a blast of dust fell out of the thin crack between the apertures. Andrew looked at the base of the monument, his face fell, and deep furrows formed between his eyes.

  “Where’s the goddamn tomb?”

  “What tomb?”

  The shooting was getting louder outside. Liam’s back appeared at the corner of the entrance. He looked back and screamed, “I don’t get it. If they’re supposed to just take the gold, why are they trying to kill us?”

  Olivia joined her brother by the monument. She frowned too, realizing she had missed that detail all this time. They had all missed that one piece of the clue. And it was as important as finding the gold.

  “What’s supposed to happen, Andrew, when you turn the head?”

  Andrew stammered, “the...the tomb, the tomb, it’s not here, the treasure is hidden in the tomb! Something’s supposed to make the tomb give it up!”

  Olivia strutted around the monument, bent forward, a preponderant glare in her eyes. Tami followed behind her. Andrew kicked the base of the monument, it must have moved just a fraction of an inch because he kicked it with the side of his right boot again.

  He bent down and examined the base. There was a neat place on the marble, a thin line of dust was where the monument had moved from.

  Andrew raised his head slowly, “it's not here, the grave is not here?”

  With dawning understanding, Olivia recalled what the priest told her. She came round to see the place where the monument had shifted.

  “He said the monument was brought down here.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “It was a priest. We saw him the first time.”

  Andrew got up, hunched forward, he stumped away from the hall. But the shooting outside stopped his progress. “We have to find the place where the monument was moved from.”

  “The treasure is in the tomb?”

  “Yes.”

  Olivia and Tami trailed behind him. Assassins were shooting from the door of the church; Diggs and Borodin hunkered down behind toppled pews. Olivia and Tami bowed behind Andrew too. Olivia counted t
hree men at the door with automatic weapons.

  Diggs shouted, “did you get it?”

  “No!”

  Miller crawled over while Diggs continued shooting at the door. This batch of assassins were professionals, he said. Miller thought they were former Marines or CIA, hired hands.

  “Talbot.”

  “Talbot, yes.”

  “Double-crossing, fuck!”

  Miller gestured at Andrew. The former priest said, “we’re going over to the pulpit, I think someone moved the monument but left the tomb out there.”

  Miller peeped over some fallen pew and dropped his head down again, just before a hail of bullets chewed off the wood there.

  “I don’t think there’s anything out there that closely resembles a tomb, we checked!”

  Andrew yelled back, “I haven’t!”

  “Suit yourself, but we have to be going soon!”

  As Andrew navigated across the church through pews that had remained standing, Tami asked Olivia why the cops hadn’t shown up yet.

  “Maybe these are the cops,” she said, “every interest is invited in this gold, Tami.”

  One of the camouflage-clad guys at the door got it in the neck from Diggs Smith and Wesson. He clutched himself and went down. But two more appeared in his place. Two provide cover fire while one shooter wearing a facemask, entered the church, he ran by the wall trying to cut Andrew and Olivia off.

  The assassin sent a salvo of shots across the pew. Wood splintered, and glass crashed. Andrew pulled the two women down, he shrunk over them as glass fell all around them. They moved on when the assassin dove for cover too. Anabia was shooting at the man.

  They got to the front of the church where the pews ended.

  Three meters separated the line of pews from the foot of the pulpit. Olivia bent low and saw the gunman crawling, along the wall, his head poked from the end of a pew.

  “Give me your gun.”

  Olivia looked at her brother, strangely. “You know how to shoot?”

  “Give it to me, Olivia,” he hissed.

  Andrew leaned over on his back and stretched Olivia’s Colt. The grip felt wrong in his hand, but the feeling was right as rain. He exhaled. The assassin’s right knee appeared between the gaps of two pews.

  Andrew shot once.

  The assassin let out a small grunt and fell forward; he was up again and limping. The assassin started towards the spot where Andrew protected the women with him.