Relics

by K. T. Tomb

  “I still don’t like it,” he muttered.

  “Peter, I’m probably just being paranoid.” She decided that downplaying the trip was the best approach. “Look, there’s probably nothing there and we’ll be in and out without a hitch.”

  “But if there is and you run into a shit storm?” Peter asked.

  “Then you’ll lead the cavalry in to save me.” She smiled. “Just like you always do, unless you’re one of the ones that needs saving. Either way, it is better if the whole team is not in one place together. First of all, Jonathan and I alone can be more discreet and second, we’re not putting all of us in harm’s way.”

  “What about Phillips?” Peter asked.

  “Same goes for him,” she replied simply. Phillips’ odd behavior during their discussion of legends had also begun to weigh on her. Was that creepy, hidden thing finally coming to the surface or was his “professionalism” truly insulted?

  “You know that he’s not going to allow that to happen,” Peter pointed out. “I thought you wanted a buffer between you and him.”

  “That’s why he’s not coming.”

  “What if he follows you? I think I heard that you told him no in Wales, but then he followed you to your apartment.”

  “Then Jonathan will be my buffer,” Phoe replied. She had to figure out how to get Peter to understand her position. “Look, I need you to lead the team that doesn’t come with me and to lead in the cavalry if something happens. We’ll stay in close contact, but in separate locations.”

  Peter didn’t respond, but seemed to be mulling something over in his head.

  Another thought suddenly came to her. “You know what? If Phillips is going to be following anyway, why don’t we make use of him as another distraction?”

  “What do you mean?” Peter frowned.

  “Set him up like a lookout in Séte. He won’t be with us, but he’ll be in the loop of communication so that he can alert you if he gets sight of whoever is following us. We could get information, Jeremy can track whomever it is and we can sic Kessler on them.”

  “So, you’re going to set up Phillips as counter-surveillance against an unknown person or group of persons that are, maybe, following you? Shouldn’t I be doing that? Shouldn’t you put someone that you trust in that position?”

  “And leave Phillips with the rest of the team?”

  “I don’t know, Phoe,” Peter said.

  He was right about placing a person that you do not trust as your counter-surveillance, but what if Phillips didn’t know of his job? What if she just flatly refused to allow him to come along? He would follow her anyway and, if someone was following her, he would unexpectedly bump into them. If he was to be trusted, then he would get in contact with either her, Peter or Kessler… whose number he obviously had, since he was able to find her apartment and get approval to accompany her team. She grinned as the idea took root.

  “I have a way of flushing things out.”

  “Why are you grinning?”

  Phoe explained her thoughts on how to best use Phillips.

  “You know what, Phoe, that just might work,” Peter agreed. “But, both you and Jonathan are going to have tracking devices and we’ll have a regular check-in time and code words and everything. Got it?”

  “Deal,” she said.

  That conversation had taken place two days before and had been followed by a rather heated exchange with Phillips about not being allowed to accompany her and Jonathan to Séte. Phillips had been belligerent initially, but had finally given in, much too easily, of course, which is what Phoe had been counting on. As she and Jonathan got out of the taxi in front of the Church of Saint Maurice, she caught a glimpse of Phillips. Things were beginning exactly as she had planned. She pressed the speed dial for Peter on her cell.

  “This isn’t a regular check-in time,” Peter answered.

  “I just called to say…” She started out singing the Stevie Wonder classic, but changed the last words. “He’s watching.”

  “Phillips?”

  “You got it, but,” she chuckled, “if we’re going to be all super-secret spy about this we ought to give him his own code name.”

  “Alright, how about ‘Wales?’” Peter suggested.

  “I was thinking of using ‘creepy,’” she replied.

  “You’re the boss,” Peter chuckled.

  “We’re going into the church now; ciao bella.”

  “That’s Italian. Remember, you’re in France.”

  “Oops, my bad. Au revoir.” Phoe disconnected the call.

  “Would you like to let me in on what’s going on?” Jonathan asked. “Who is following us?”

  Phoe had intended to let Jonathan in on the plan when they were alone. Though she was pretty sure that Phillips would follow, she hadn’t been completely certain until she’d seen him. There hadn’t been any reason to bring it up until she knew that she had been right. Why make Jonathan fret? “We’re sort of using Phillips to watch our back. I can explain in detail later.”

  “I thought you sent him packing.”

  “That was part of the plan. Peter and I are sort of testing where his loyalties lie and we’re hoping to keep whoever was following us in Switzerland divided and guessing.”

  “Someone has been following us?” Jonathan stopped in his tracks and turned her by her shoulder to face him.

  “It’s just a feeling,” Phoe replied, trying to downplay her hunch once more. “I’m just being careful.”

  “Jesus, Phoe, why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I’m telling you now.”

  “Telling me a little late, don’t you think?”

  “Why is it a little late?” She glanced upward at an ornate decoration above the front door and then back down at Jonathan. “Look, I didn’t want the whole team to be worried and I didn’t want to worry you about something that was only a hunch.”

  “See, Phoe, that’s the reason that we don’t get along sometimes. You don’t trust me completely.”

  “Wait!” she exclaimed, raising her hand toward him and looking back up at the decoration above the door. She had seen something in that initial glance, but it hadn’t registered at first. She backed away several paces to get a better view.

  “What? What do you see?” Jonathan asked.

  “Look at the decoration above the door.” She pointed.

  “It’s just a circle with…” Jonathan’s words stopped and Phoe finished the sentence.

  “A six-pointed star.”

  “But that’s not a hexagram,” Jonathan pointed out.

  “Pentagram, hexagram, septagram, octagram; they’re all pagan occult symbols that would have come along much later. In fact, David’s six-pointed star isn’t actually a hexagram.”

  “We’ve been assuming that it was a hexagram all along.”

  “That’s all we’ve been seeing because that’s all that’s been out there to see. The Star of David on the Moroccan ring was a hexagram too.”

  “But the Israeli flag is a hexagram and that’s supposed to symbolize the Star of David.”

  “But it came along much later when the hexagram had become the norm. Snap some photos of it and send them to Jeremy. We need to start looking at this from a different perspective. We’ve been looking at this as a magical amulet and talisman instead of the ring of a head of state.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  She: I am a rose of Sharon, a lily of the valleys.

  He: Like a lily among thorns is my darling among the young women…

  She: My beloved is mine and I am his; he browses among the lilies.

  Until the day breaks and the shadows flee,

  turn, my beloved, and be like a gazelle

  or like a young stag on the rugged hills. - Song of Solomon, Chapter 2.

  The Gothic-era, two-centered arch above the doorway of St. Maurice church pointed directly at a circle framed in stone. Inside that circle was a smaller circle of about half the diameter of the outer circle. Issuing outward fr
om the inner circle, all carved of stone, were the six ornate points made of two sets of stone lines. The outer pair of lines arched toward each other, intersected and then tied into the outer circle. Inside of that pair of arched lines on each point was another pair of straight lines that formed a triangle, its apex touching the intersection of the outer two lines. Inside of the inner circle were six short arches that matched up to the points of the outer points, but arched in the opposite direction. The effect of the arches of the inner points created something like a six-petal flower.

  The overall effect of the design made Phoe think of a tangle of brambles or the crown of thorns that was placed on the head of Christ, yet those things didn’t track with anything that she knew about Solomon. The thought ended there when her cell phone rang, displaying Jeremy’s number.

  “I’ve come up with nothing,” Jeremy told her after Jonathan had sent the photos and they had spent several minutes waiting for a response.

  “What do you mean, nothing?” Phoe asked.

  “It seems to be a symbol that is unique to that particular architectural structure,” he replied. “I found photos of the very door and decoration that you’re looking at, even the history behind the founding of the church and its special significance, but nada, zilch, zip about that symbol. I can’t even track down a name for what it is called.”

  “But how can it have existed for a thousand years and nobody copied it or labeled it or anything like that?” Phoe wrinkled her brow. How the hell could she confirm something that seemed to not exist beyond the very thing that she was looking at?

  “Actually, 946 years. It was built in 1069 by—”

  “Puis-je vous aider? Can I help you?” A short, plump man was in the doorway of the church, holding the door open and looking confused.

  “Yes, actually, we wanted to have a look around, if you don’t mind.” Phoe’s French was a bit rusty, but she managed to communicate her intentions and understand those of the plump host.

  “We don’t open this early in the morning,” he smiled. “You see, we are not really a functioning church now, we’re more like a museum.”

  “One moment,” she said, raising a hand and cutting into Jeremy’s latest rabbit trail. “Jeremy, keep looking and get back to me. There’s got to be something.”

  “Gotcha,” he replied and disconnected the call.

  “Excusez-moi.” She beamed as she disconnected the call and pressed Simon Kessler’s speed dial number. “I need some help getting into the Church of Saint Maurice in Séte, France.”

  “I’m not even going to speculate,” Simon replied.

  “All I can tell you is that we have a good lead here and I need access to everything.”

  “That’s not even a functioning church, but it is still owned by the Catholic Diocese. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Thank you,” she said, disconnecting the call.

  She pardoned herself again for the interruption of their discussion and approached the man extending her hand and introducing herself. “I’m Thalia Phoenix and this is my brother, Jonathan. We’re actually commissioned by the Vatican in search of a particularly rare relic and your church seems to fit into our search quite nicely.”

  “I’m sorry,” he replied, smiling, but with a tone of regret in his voice. “You are welcome to return at 10:30 a.m. when we start tours and ask any questions you might have then, but I can’t simply allow you access without some form of cred… Excusez-moi,” he said, reaching for the cell phone in his pocket that had started ringing.

  “Perfect timing,” Phoe chuckled.

  When the short, plump man disconnected his call, his attitude rapidly changed. “Miss Phoenix, Jonathan, please come in. I am completely at your disposal.”

  “Merci beaucoup,” she said and beamed as she passed through the open doorway.

  “Do you speak French?” he asked her and Phone nodded. “What is it that you think could possibly be of importance in this forgotten church?” he continued in his native language.

  “We actually didn’t know for certain until we saw the decoration above the door outside.” Phoe decided to get directly to the point. “It’s a very unique design. In fact, one might say that it seems to be something of a secret design. There isn’t another like it in the world.”

  Phoe noticed the man’s face pale and knew that he knew something, but he quickly recovered himself. “It wasn’t a part of the original construction in 1069. It was added much later in 1137 after the death of Louis the Sixth. Thus, the six points and the six petals. Sort of like a lily, don’t you think?”

  Suddenly, it all came together. The six-sided star matched perfectly to a lily. In Solomon’s song to his lover, likely written about and maybe for Sheba, he had referred to her as a lily among thorns, something that had always confused her, since that was typically said of roses rather than lilies.

  The signet ring of Solomon was a symbol that was shared between him and his lover. The six points like those of a lily stood out clearly to her once it was pointed out. In addition, the intertwining lines that reminded her of thorns and brambles were also symbolic. Perhaps Sheba sent the ring to him and designed it with symbols that were known only to the two of them. It all came together for her and she smiled confidently.

  “Mister…” She began to address her host.

  “Dubois.” He smiled. “Maxim Dubois.”

  “Come clean with me.” She allowed her smile to fade. “Do I need to make another phone call?”

  Chapter Sixteen

  “That won’t be necessary, Miss Phoenix,” Maxim Dubois replied, looking at his feet. No doubt he had been thoroughly informed of who she was and who was behind her. Going crossways of an agent of the Vatican was certainly a very bad career move for Mr. Dubois. “What is it that you want to know?”

  “The flower or star—depending on how you look at it—in that design outside… Might it be a replica of a certain relic in the possession of this church, since, I don’t know, before the beginning of the 11th century?”

  His reaction told her that she had hit gold. His wide eyes let her know that he had been duly shocked by her inquiry. His words didn’t come easily and when they did, they came out in a low tone. “What do you want with the ring?”

  “The Vatican sent me to recover it,” Phoe responded, matching his tone.

  Jonathan, whose French was extremely elementary, was lost, but even he could tell that something important was going on. “What is it, Phoe? Does he know something?”

  “Oh, he does,” a familiar voice behind them said. “He does, indeed.”

  “Guy, I told you not to follow us. This is important. We have to be discreet.”

  “Miss Phoenix.” He smiled. “I told you from the beginning that I wanted to be a part of this and I intend to continue until the end.”

  “But we’re probably just tracking a dead end,” she protested. “There is no need to waste any more of your time.”

  “You say that; however, by the reaction of Francois here, I’d say that you’re right on track,” he chuckled. “Sorry, love, I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

  Phoe sighed with resignation. What more could she do? “Fine, you can tag along, but I’m in charge, got it? I ask the questions and I do the talking.”

  “Of course.” He shrugged, beaming.

  His smile didn’t reassure her a great deal. In fact, it just added to that sense of doom that had continued to grow stronger since they left Switzerland. She and Simon were going to have to have a serious talk about who was allowed to work with her and who determined that. However, that would have to come later. At the moment, if she hadn’t missed her guess, she was about to lay her hands upon the Seal of Solomon, or at least be given the exact location of his secret hiding place.

  “Mr. Dubois,” she smiled. “You know my credentials and you are also aware of what I am seeking. Let’s make this easy and I’ll put in a good word about you with the Vatican.”

  “Miss Phoenix,” Dubois sa
id in resignation, “I will show the ring to you, but I doubt that it is what you are seeking. It is a very common ring that only has power within legends. I can assure you that it is nothing but a medieval artifact that has been with the church from its beginning.”

  “Nevertheless,” she replied.

  Mister Dubois led the way through the ornate sanctuary and through a small door behind the altar. From there, they were led down a series of halls before arriving in a small study, which, in spite of being a medieval church, was finished in very fine modern furnishings. A very ordinary door concealed the door of a vault after Mister Dubois told them to make themselves comfortable and the table and went to open the door.

  “This is highly unusual,” he mumbled. “But given your credentials…” The sentence trailed off as he started working the combination lock on the vault. After a few moments, he pushed down the vault-door handle, which made a loud, deep click, before he pulled open the thick metal door.

  Mr. Dubois pulled a small box out of the vault and brought it to the table. The box was very plain, nothing like the one that held the Moroccan ring. Mr. Dubois did not show nearly the same reverence that Fr. Soliman had either, though Phoe thought she noticed some hesitation and a slight quiver to Dubois’ hands as he raised the lid and set it aside. “The ring, Miss Phoenix,” he said, pushing the box toward her.

  The ring was identical to the decoration above the door outside; however, cast in tarnished silver and gold, it took on a completely different significance. For one, the subtle shadows that were created by the entangled branches, making up the star points created the illusion that the ring was quivering as the light reflected off of it.

  “It’s incredible,” she whispered.

  “It is, indeed,” Phillips said, moving up behind her and Jonathan. The siblings were leaning over the box, totally entranced by it, until they heard the metallic slide of a pistol being cocked. The two of them turned to face Alfred Guy Phillips the Fourth grinning at them with a pistol in his hand. “Now, how about we pass that right on over to me, shall we?”