The Temple Deliverance

by D C Macey

  They both looked down at the jutting spear point of rock.

  ‘Nasty. Any more weight on your leg, and that would have gone right thorough your boot.’

  ‘It would have. Thanks, Bill.’ Sam glared down at the stone then allowed Bill to help him hobble back to the dry pebbles above the high waterline. He sat and pulled his boot round to inspect its sole.

  Bill knelt down. ‘No problem, it didn’t get through the sole. Just going to hurt for a while, that’s all.’

  ‘Where did that rock come from? Between the tidelines you’d think the sharp edges would be worn off,’ said Angelo.

  ‘I’m thinking there’s been a rockfall. This stuff is hard, very hard. It can stand, unflinching, for a thousand years easy, probably more, much more. But eventually, everything falls. A lot of these coastlines are being constantly eroded underwater too. When they go, they go big,’ said Bill.

  ‘Yes, atrophy. Eventually, everything breaks down,’ said Sam, nodding and stretching out his leg gingerly.

  ‘I think you just stood on a shard from a rockfall. You have rotten weather out here; it’s bound to have a wearing effect on the rocks.’

  ‘Could be,’ said Sam. Something stirred in his subconscious. ‘Could be.’

  Bill pointed out across the inlet. ‘Look over there. See that mass of black rock that’s just been exposed now by the tide? Maybe it’s come down recently. In fact, if you look up the side wall, some of that rock face is mighty fresh. I think that whole face of rock has come down. What do you think?’

  Sam struggled to rise, and Angelo, ever watchful was there, reaching out to support him.

  ‘Let me have a look,’ said Sam. He lifted the fourth medallion again. ‘You might have something there, Bill. If we assume that the side of the inlet which suffered a rockfall is this section of the medallion’s cove engraving, that would explain why the profile engraved on the medallion is so different to reality - the geography has changed. If you ignore that section, the other parts of the pattern just about match with the other sides of the inlet. Well done, Bill. Well spotted.’

  ‘Anything for a mate. I’m thinking you’ll probably be wanting to buy me a bottle of whisky though.’

  ‘A bottle? I’ll buy you a barrel!’

  ‘Deal.’

  Sam turned his focus back to the medallion. ‘There’s a problem though.’

  ‘Oh, there goes my whisky.’

  ‘Look here.’ The three men leaned in close to the medallion in Sam’s hand. ‘If I’m interpreting this properly, perhaps the Y represents the layout of a tunnel. In which case, we would have expected a concealed entrance in that rock face where a branch of this Y touches the edge of the cove outline. But the entrance must have fallen into the sea with the rockfall. The entrance is gone.’

  ‘Ah hell,’ said Bill.

  ‘Perhaps, this is not so bad,’ said Angelo. ‘Maybe, the door is gone, but the corridor behind is still there. No? Yes?’

  Sam slipped his arm round Angelo’s shoulder. ‘You might be right, Angelo, you just might. The rock’s so hard - what didn’t fall is not going to crumble. If there was anything behind, it’ll still be there.’

  All three focused hard on the inlet’s side wall. Sam took binoculars from his bag and began to search in detail. ‘It’s no good, the light’s too poor. Where’s summer sun when you need it?’

  ‘What can we do?’ said Angelo.

  Sam lowered the binoculars and handed them to Bill who, in turn, scanned the fresh cliff face.

  ‘I think we need to get much closer to those rocks. We’ll need the RIB for that.’

  ‘By the time the tide’s in and she’s afloat, there won’t be time to bring her round before sunset.’

  ‘Yes, I think we need to go back to pick up our kit, find the cottage and get sorted out for the night. We can take the RIB round to the inlet in the morning.’

  • • •

  ‘There’s something odd going on,’ said Cassiter, ending the phone call he had just taken and hurrying for the table. He waved away one of Parsol’s men who had been using the computer.

  ‘What do you mean odd?’ said Parsol as he steered his wheelchair to join him. ‘What’s happening?’

  ‘My team have got a fix on Cameron and his friends. This morning we saw them sail past the island’s bird cameras. Now they have appeared in shot on the island. The live footage has been captured and forwarded to us. Here it comes …’

  Both men waited for the link to open.

  ‘Here it comes. Yes, see, there’s Cameron struggling down the slope and his two men following behind,’ said Cassiter.

  ‘What’s he up to?’

  ‘I’m not sure.’

  Sam’s image grew large on the screen as the camera zoomed in.

  ‘What’s he looking at? I need to know.’ Parsol’s hand slapped down on the table edge. ‘I need to know!’

  ‘It seems they’re surveying something … the cliff face?’ said Cassiter. ‘I’ll have them use the cameras to try and see what he was looking at or for.’

  22

  Saturday, January 25th - a.m.

  They were up well before dawn. Bottled gas to the cottage stove had provided the power for Bill to rustle up porridge and tea for breakfast. As the sun broke over the island, they left the key in the front door of the little terraced cottage and headed back down the hill towards the visitor centre.

  ‘Bill, we’ll put our bags in the RIB now, and Angelo and I will walk across the island to the haven if you can take the RIB round. I’d like to have a good look at Pilgrim’s Haven from the ridge above before we start. We’ll meet you down on the shingle.’

  ‘No problem, boss. I’ll get away now. See you both over there. Hey, this busying about is just like old times. It’s great.’

  ‘Let’s hope it’s not too much like old times,’ said Sam. ‘I recall a couple of quite dodgy moments.’

  ‘Yes, but we got through okay, didn’t we?’

  They carried the kit down to the jetty where the RIB bobbed gently against its lines. Bill immediately got the engine running, and Sam and Angelo set off back across the island to Pilgrim’s Haven.

  • • •

  Bigger than many coastal cargo ships, Parsol’s well-appointed luxury yacht was holding its position in the Firth of Forth a little distance off Dunbar. It was waiting for the arrival of an important passenger. Here, the estuary had already widened so much that the boat could happily stand off the town all day without disrupting the steady flow of shipping in and out of the various port destinations along the Forth. Equally important, it was beyond the attention of the Forth Ports’ authorities whose writ ended a few miles further up the coast near North Berwick.

  • • •

  ‘Any news?’ said Grace as she settled into the chair next to Helen.

  ‘Nothing, but we agreed no phone calls, just in case Cassiter’s lot can listen in somehow. He’ll only call in an emergency.’

  ‘So, no news really is good news.’

  Helen smiled at Grace and reached out her hand.

  Grace took it and squeezed. ‘It’ll work out for sure.’

  ‘Well, I pray it does. I should be there with him.’

  ‘You’d only be a hindrance with that leg. Right now, he’s better able to work out there without you.’

  ‘I know, but I still want to be there. Sam shouldn’t be doing this alone.’

  ‘He’s got Angelo with him and his mystery friend Bill. He’s not alone.’

  ‘But they’re not me.’

  ‘Okay, what do you want to do?’

  ‘Sam reckoned it would take about thirty-six hours to follow the clues and reach a conclusion or not. I’d like to go down to North Berwick and wait for him there. His friend, Pete Summers, said I could wait at his home for the RIB’s return, if I wanted, but I’m not sure I can drive that distance yet.’

  ‘I’m not sure you can drive at all yet. I’ll take you. When do you want to go?’

  ‘I
guess we could go down this evening. I’ll call Pete and confirm a plan.’

  • • •

  In the open water beyond the inlet, Bill lined the RIB up for a run-in on Pilgrim’s Haven and its sheltered beach. He held the RIB’s position for a few moments, weighing up his options before moving ahead. Constantly scanning the sea around him and checking ahead to the shingle, he powered in then cut down his speed and prepared to synchronise his approach with the regular run of the waves. He held position a dozen yards off the shoreline and shouted across to Sam and Angelo who were standing ready to join him on the RIB.

  ‘I’ll come in closer on the next wave, but I don’t want to beach the RIB in case it comes down on some more of those shards like you stood on yesterday.’

  ‘Looks like we’re getting wet feet then,’ said Sam to Angelo.

  The RIB nosed in behind a beaching wave, and they both stepped forwards to meet it.

  ‘Jump on quick!’ called Bill.

  Sam and Angelo scrambled over the bow, even as Bill had the RIB powering hard astern.

  ‘Well, that cleared the cobwebs away,’ said Sam, working his way along the RIB’s deck towards Bill.

  ‘Welcome aboard,’ said Bill. ‘I’m thinking you’re both going to need to change your clothes and footwear.’

  ‘Too right we will. It’s suddenly bitterly cold.’ Sam gave a shiver. He eyed Bill. ‘I see you’re dressed for the part though.’

  ‘I’ve learnt that whenever somebody tells me I’ve got a job on the water, it’ll eventually mean me being in the water.’ Bill’s clothes and boots were in a plastic bag on deck, while he presented proud and practical in his wetsuit.

  ‘Good thinking. I won’t get changed yet, just in case. Best we suffer a little while longer.’

  ‘You’re going to get wet again?’

  ‘Probably. Let’s go over and check out this cliff face.’ He turned his attention to Angelo. ‘We’ll have to stay wet a little longer, I’m afraid.’

  Angelo gave a resigned nod.

  Bill kept the RIB running astern before executing a tight turn to bring them face-to-face with the inlet’s sheer rock wall. He pointed straight ahead at the mass of black rock that was now just breaking above the water’s surface between them and the cliff. ‘That lot was not on the chart you showed me yesterday. There should have been a straight drop from the cliff to the seabed. Those rocks can only have come from one place - the cliff face.’

  ‘Can you take us a little further round, Bill? I want to get a better look at the cliff face above.’

  ‘No problem. When do you think the cliff face fell?’ Bill began carefully edging the RIB round the flat bed of rock that filled the sea beneath the cliff face where once there had been clear water to navigate.

  ‘No idea. Could have been five years ago, maybe just five days. The cliffs on the other side of the inlet are covered in guano. This side isn’t. Mind you, there’s a bit of an overhang, so birds can’t roost so easily. It could be the birds have never been able to mess up over here. On the other hand …’ Sam fell quiet, concentrating on the cliff face while Bill manoeuvred the RIB. ‘Right, Bill. Try to hold your position here for a moment will you?’

  Sam was intently scanning the rock face. He frequently raised his binoculars to look at half-promising features, trying to work out what the implications of any rockfall were and, if it were the case, how the Templar concealment would appear now.

  ‘What are you looking for?’ said Angelo.

  ‘Last year in Crete, we found the Templars were able to take an ancient tunnel system and modify it, so they could load their secrets in unnoticed, concealing the entrance when they were done. I’m thinking there would be no reason for them to change a winning plan. Problem is, if this is the right place, the tunnel entrance has dropped down into the sea.’

  Sam returned his focus to the rock face. ‘Can you head back to where we started please?’

  As the RIB manoeuvred round, he kept his gaze locked on the cliff face. He thought about the shape of the island as formed by the three medallions; he considered the discreet cross on the medallion that he now believed should have corresponded to this side of the inlet and its rock face. The entrance would have been there - once.

  ‘I can’t get any closer, or we’ll run into that bed of fallen rock. In fact, I’m thinking with the tide ebbing, give it another half-hour, and you’ll be able to stand on it. It’s formed a platform.’

  Sam looked down at the water. ‘I see what you mean.’ The rock face appeared to have come down in great blocks that had settled on the bottom and now rested together, shoulder to shoulder - immovable objects that partially filled one side of the inlet, creating something of a tidal flat.

  He turned his attention back to the cliff just as a screeching gull flew between them and the rock face. He caught his breath. There it was, just for a moment, then gone again. He stared hard, keeping his focus on the spot. Slowly, slowly, it reappeared. Sam raised his hand pointing at the cliff. ‘There! Look. Right there.’

  The flashing white distraction of the passing gull had brought a contrast to his view, highlighting a black hole in black stone, all cast in shadow from the overhang. The tunnel. It was there, open and exposed to the elements. No clues to interpret, no puzzle to solve. A black hole in a black wall, just waiting for them.

  ‘I see it,’ said Bill.

  Angelo grinned and wrapped an arm round Sam’s shoulders.

  ‘Mark that spot, Bill! I need to get up there.’

  ‘Got it. This won’t be easy, Sam. That hole is a good fifteen feet above the water, and the tide’s on the ebb still.’

  ‘Could we wait for high tide; float underneath it?’

  ‘I wouldn’t fancy it. That bed of rock could rip the RIB to bits if the waves get up. Hell, even in calm waters, it would be a risk.’

  ‘Okay. Any suggestions?’

  ‘What kit have we got?’

  ‘Ropes, torches, water, emergency rations, sacking, some tools - spades, hammer, a crowbar, trowels and so on.’

  ‘Trowels? What use are they?’

  ‘Bill, I’m an archaeologist. Of course I’ve brought trowels.’

  ‘Let me see the rope you’ve got,’ said Bill.

  Sam opened one of the kit bags and pulled out a sturdy rope.

  ‘Too thick. Anything slimmer, lighter?’

  ‘There’s this one,’ said Sam. He pulled out a slender rope.

  ‘That might do, and we could use that trowel of yours too. You were always a good climber, Sam. I’m thinking I might have got a bit too heavy for this one. Look, up above the tunnel mouth, there are a few jaggy outcrops. If we get onto the rocks when they’re dry and weight the thin line with your trowel, we might be able to throw it up and over the outcrop. Catch the line on its way down, and you can climb up it to the entrance.’

  Sam laughed. ‘How come it’s me doing the climbing?’

  ‘You’re lighter than I am and fitter. Whoever goes up needs to be quick, I doubt that line will hold for long.’

  With a plan at last, they floated off the bed of fallen rock for a little while as the sea level dropped enough so the waves did not break across the whole surface.

  ‘Come on then, let’s go,’ said Sam.

  Bill cautiously edged the RIB in towards the rock bed while Sam leant over the bow and talked him in. ‘You’re clear to go right alongside the edge of the rock bed. It simply drops away sheer to the bottom. I’m telling you, boys, these are big blocks of stone.’

  Just as the bow of the RIB was about to bump up against the rock, Sam lowered a fender over the side. It squeezed and emitted a squeal of tortured rubber when it absorbed the shock.

  ‘Everyone out, quick,’ shouted Bill, struggling to keep the RIB in position. Sam jumped onto the wet rock surface, steadied himself and turned to take the bags from Angelo who then followed him onto the rock.

  Bill pulled away, taking the RIB out to the middle of the inlet. Once happy with the position,
he threw the anchor overboard. He waited a little while to be sure the anchor was holding then pulled on flippers, a mask and snorkel. Without any splash, he slipped over the side. Sam and Angelo watched Bill disappear from view. They waited anxiously for him to resurface.

  Beneath the waves, Bill worked his flippers, powering down to check how the anchor was set in the seabed. Content, he returned to the surface and swam to the rocks, where Sam and Angelo pulled him up and out of the water.

  After Bill had collected himself, Sam led them all across the rocks to the point immediately beneath the tunnel mouth.

  Trowel tied to the thin line, Sam tried several times to heave it up over the outcrop above the tunnel. On each occasion, he got closer but never quite there. Eventually, with a despairing lunge, he launched the trowel and its trail of line. It flew up and over the outcrop and dangled from the other side.

  Sam fed more of the line out, jerking and shaking it to encourage its movement over the outcrop, where, gradually, the weight of the trowel began to take over and pull down, descending towards the waiting men.

  Removing the trowel, Sam tied both ends of the line together, doubling its thickness.

  ‘Are you sure you fancy this?’ said Bill.

  ‘Got to be done, and I’m the lightest. It has to be me.’

  ‘Okay, I know. But look, Angelo and I will stand together, form a frame. Climb on our shoulders, and that will give you a head start. If that rope holds your weight for more than a minute, you will be very lucky. You want to avoid a nasty fall onto these rocks.’

  ‘Agreed, and thanks for the pep talk, Bill. Now let’s get on with it, shall we?’

  Angelo and Bill braced themselves as Sam clambered up onto their shoulders, a torch in one pocket and the shorter, thicker rope tied to his waistband. He took the strain on the dangling line, gradually applying more and more weight until his boots left the shoulders of his supporters and he was hanging free. He started to swing in the breeze. Bill grabbed the trailing end, holding it steady while Sam began to climb.

  ‘Quick as you can, man, quick as you can!’ said Bill, straining to keep the slender line steady. Angelo, calm, prepared, stood arms outstretched, gazing up towards Sam. He was ready to break the fall if it came.