Infernal Games (Templar Chronicles Urban Fantasy Series) (9 page)

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U
pon
arrival at de Gaulle, Cade quickly exited the aircraft, quickly cleared
customs, and made his way to the rental car counters, where he rented a mid-sized
sedan for his drive south to the mountains. He stopped at a café on the way
out of the city and grabbed a few sandwiches to eat on the way, not having had
anything to eat since early the night before. The sky was clear, the weather
was nice, and for a time he lost himself in the simple act of driving.

The
abbey was located high in the Pyrenees Mountains. It had started out as a convent
in the 1500s, was abandoned about a hundred years after that, and then stood
vacant until a sect of Benedictine monks purchased it just before the start of
the French Revolution. It sat on the edge of a high promontory, like a castle
guarding the approach to a mountain pass, and indeed even looked a bit like a
castle, with its high crenellated towers and balconies jutting from walls of
fashioned stone. The abbey was closed to the public, a tour available by
private invitation only, but Cade had no doubt that they would let him in.
Even the Benedictines answered to Rome.

The
winding, twisting mountain road eventually brought him to the entrance of the
monastery complex. Two large iron gates blocked the road and Cade was forced
to get out of the car and ring a small bell hanging to one side.

A
brown-robed monk emerged from a gatehouse on the other side of the fence at the
sound.

“May
I help you?” he asked politely.

“I’m
here to see Abbot Martin.”

The
monk frowned. “He usually doesn’t have visitors and I do not remember there
being anything on the schedule for today.”

Cade
was prepared for that very statement.

“I
am Monsignor Evans, of the Office
of the Sacred Congregation for Propagation of the Faith in Rome. I do not
believe I need an appointment to carry out my duties, do you?”

The
monk paled at his words; it seemed the Inquisition still put the fear of God
into people, as it had been designed to do.

“My
apologies, Monsignor,” the monk said, as he fumbled with the keys to unlock the
gate. “I will inform him that you are here.”

Ten
minutes later Cade was being escorted into the abbot’s office, a Spartan room
that contained little in the way of furniture and even less in material
comforts. Cade mentally approved and felt bad for the subterfuge he was about
to engage in, but it couldn’t be helped.

“What
can we do for you, Monsignor?” asked the abbot, a tall, slender fellow with a
narrow face, thin lips, and a high forehead. He pointed to a wooden chair in
front of his desk. “Please, have a seat.”

Cade
shook his head. “Sorry to disturb you unannounced,” he began, knowing he
didn’t sound sorry at all; all part of the persona. “His Eminence, Cardinal
Bollinger, had ordered that an inventory be taken of all relics currently in
the hands of the Church. I have been ordered to view each and every relic
personally and to report on their storage and care.”

The
abbot seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. “Quite the task,” he said.

Cade
smiled ruefully. “That it is. Ours not to question why and all that.”

“Quite
right. I do not have anything on my schedule this morning so why don’t I take
you to see the Hand myself?”

Cade
nodded in thanks. “That would be fine.”

The
abbot tried to make some small talk about life in Rome as he led Cade through
the complex to the cathedral itself and Cade fielded his questions as best he
could. The cathedral was just what Cade expected for one built in the 1500s –
soaring ceilings and buttresses upon buttresses, with an altar decorated in
gold and precious gems. The abbot walked through the nave, or center, of the
church, skirted the altar and walked along the outer edge of the north transept
until he came to a small wooden door half-hidden in the paneling. He removed a
key from around his neck and used it to unlock the door.

“This
is the Chapel of the Sacred Hand,” the abbot told Cade, as he turned on the
lights via a switch to his right. “The reliquary containing the artifact is
kept in an alcove inside the chapel and the door to the room is always kept
locked.”

“How
many keys are there and who has access to them?” Cade asked, as he pretended to
examine the door. What he was really looking at was the lock; it was an
old-fashioned tumbler lock that he knew he could have open inside of three
seconds.

“Just
two. A master key, which I carry at all times, and a key specifically for this
lock which is kept in my office and used only on the days when the chapel is to
be cleaned.”

“How
often is that?”

“Once
per week.”

“I see. May I?” Cade asked, gesturing ahead of them.

The
abbot bowed slightly. “Of course, Monsignor.”

Cade
stepped into the room. It was small, maybe eight by eight, at best, and
contained four rows of wooden benches arranged before the alcove at the back of
the room holding the reliquary.

The
reliquary itself was impossible to miss. It was an ornate gold and glass
enclosure, shaped like a miniature cathedral, with tall panes of glass like the
windows on the church through which the penitent could see the relic. The rear
of the alcove was lined with mirrored glass, no doubt intended to reflect the
beauty of the reliquary so as to make it appear larger than it actually was.

Inside
the reliquary, on a red satin pillow, was the mummified hand of a human being.

The
skin, brown with age and cracked in several places, looked more like shoe
leather than human flesh. The fingers were unusually long and were slightly
curled toward their tips, the nails dark grey and lusterless. The palm was
intact and there was about an inch of the wrist attached.

Church
legend had it that this was the hand of Saint Bernard of Clairvaux, a former
French abbot, founder of the Cysterian order, and known through history as a
man heavily involved in the Second Crusade. Cade’s research had shown that
Bernard died in 1153 and had originally been buried at Clairvaux Abbey, only to
be exhumed and have his remains moved to Troyes Cathedral in 1792.

And
that’s where things got interesting,
Cade thought. When the body was exhumed,
it was discovered that Bernard’s entire right arm was perfectly preserved,
almost as if he’d been laid to rest that very afternoon instead of six hundred
some-odd years before. Soldiers lopped the arm off at the elbow and reburied
Bernard without it. In time, miracles began to be associated with the relic,
healings and resurrections and the like, and as word got back to the Church,
the Pope had ordered a full investigation. Cade didn’t know what had happened
to the rest of the arm, only that the hand had eventually come to rest as a
holy relic in the care of the brothers at the monastery, where it had spent the
last three hundred years.

He
studied the case for a moment, the abbot by his side, and then turned to face
the other man.

“Alarms?”
he asked.

The
abbot looked sheepish as he said, “No. The Abbey’s resources are strained
enough as it is and we couldn’t afford the monitoring costs. Too far outside
the city, we were told.”

Cade
shook his head, by all appearances commiserating with the difficulties the abbot
faced, but inside he was smiling. He’d been afraid the Hand would be locked
away behind museum quality security systems, which would have taken
considerable effort to penetrate. He could have defeated them given enough
time, but was pleased to find out that doing so wasn’t going to be necessary.

They
continued in that vein for several minutes, with Cade asking about ambient air
temperatures, cleaning procedures, and the like. Eventually he ran out of
questions to ask but at the same time decided that he’d established his cover
strongly enough that the abbot would be unlikely to check up on his bona fides.
He thanked the abbot for his time and then took his leave, nodding at the monk
manning the gate as he returned to his car. He spun the car in a half circle,
glanced at the monastery one last time, and then headed back down the mountain.

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C
ade
didn’t go far, however, traveling for only about fifteen minutes before he saw the
overgrown entrance to a narrow forest road he’d spotted on his way up the hill.
He turned on to it and drove the rental car deep amongst the trees, far enough
away that he wouldn’t be seen from the road and then parked.

He
dined on the sandwiches he’d bought from the café earlier but husbanded the
three water bottles he had with him, wanting to make them last the afternoon.
As the sun went down he began planning his infiltration.

Aside
from the stone wall extending around the property, there was little in the way
of actual security that he was going to have to deal with, for which he was
thankful. He should be able to get in, snatch the hand, and get back out again
without too much trouble. Once he had, it would be a simple matter to return
to the airport with the hand in his diplomatic bags and catch a flight back to
New York.

Satisfied
that he had the situation under control, he leaned the driver’s seat back and
settled in to grab a little rest while he waited.

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H
e
went over the wall just after midnight.

His
internal clock had woken him just after eleven. He grabbed his bag, got out of
the car, and stood beside it in the cold night air while changing into the
black running suit and sneakers he’d selected for the job. He pulled a black
watch cap over his head and blackened his face with some camo paint he’d
brought along for just that purpose. Last but not least, he slung his sword
case over his back and strapped it into place so that the blade could be drawn
easily in an over-the-shoulder style. He didn’t plan on using it that night,
but then again, it was the things one didn’t plan for that were always the
trouble.

He
set off through the woods for the monastery above and because he was able to go
in a straight line, more or less, rather than following the winding mountain
road, he was able to reach the exterior of the complex in just under twenty
minutes.

The
wall surrounding the complex wasn’t more than ten feet high and with a short,
running start Cade was able to put one foot against the wall and boot himself
high enough to grab the top of the wall with both hands. From there it was
simply a matter of pulling himself up and onto the top.

The
section of the wall where he crouched was in darkness so he stayed there a
moment, looking about. The cathedral was off to his right, across an open
expanse of ground, but he wasn’t concerned; there weren’t any lights or roving
guard patrols to deal with and he was confident in his ability to reach the
building without being seen. He didn’t see anyone moving about in the
courtyard, so he hopped down to the ground and began moving cautiously along
the inside of the wall, staying to the shadows as much as possible.

The
main entrance was well-lit, so he ignored it, moving instead around to the
south side of the building. While touring the facility earlier with the abbot,
he’d seen a side door at the back of the south transept through which he could
gain access to the interior of the cathedral and he headed for that.

As
expected, there was only a single bulb casting a weak light over the door.
Even better, the door was unlocked.

Inside,
the cathedral was dark, with only a few nighttime security spots here and there
about the room providing just enough illumination to see by. Cade paused
inside the door, letting his eyes adjust to the shadows, wanting to be certain
that the sanctuary was empty before he made his move. When he was satisfied
that it was, he slipped through the transept, passed the altar, and went to the
door to the chapel on the other side of the building.

The
chapel was locked, just as it had been earlier. Cade pulled a set of thin
metal picks out of his pocket and went to work. Thirty seconds later he had
the door open. He stepped inside the room, letting the door shut gently behind
him.

Cade
didn’t bother with the lights. Instead, he took a small flashlight out of his
pocket and flicked it on. The red lens preserved his night vision while still
giving him enough light to work by. Now able to see, he moved to the
reliquary.

He
didn’t have the patience nor the time for subtlety. He slid the blade of the
knife into the crack between the door and the frame of the reliquary and then struck
the hilt sharply with the palm of his other hand. The tiny lock wasn’t
designed to withstand the kind of pressure the blow and popped open with a
metallic twang.

After
putting the knife away, Cade reached into the case and withdrew the Hand. He
could feel the power emanating from the thing and was suddenly very glad for
the gloves he habitually wore; given his Gift, he didn’t want to think about
what it would have been like to touch the relic with his bare flesh. He
wrapped it in a piece of satin he took from his pocket and then slipped the now-wrapped
relic into the messenger bag he’d brought along.

Satisfied,
he turned...

...only
to find that he was no longer alone.

An
elderly monk, clad in the Benedictine Order’s usual brown robe and sandals, had
just entered the room. He looked up in surprise at discovering he wasn’t alone
and saw Cade right about the same moment that the former Templar commander saw
him.

He’s
gonna yell,
Cade thought and instinctively went for his sword.

“Le
voleur! Vol...”

The
flat side of Cade’s sword blade struck the monk just above the ear, sending him
crashing to the ground.

Cade
rushed over to the older man, worried he might have to deliver another blow to
keep the old man quiet, but there was no need. Cade’s first blow had knocked
the man into unconsciousness and there was already an egg-sized lump forming on
the edge of his skull.

“Sorry,
old-timer,” Cade muttered, feeling bad that he had to resort to violence, but
happy that he hadn’t been forced to kill the monk.

But
the damage had been done.

Voices
suddenly erupted through the sanctuary on the other side of the door and Cade
knew the old man’s cries had been heard. He crossed to the door and opened it
slightly, trying to see as much as he could through the narrow opening.

At
least three men, possibly more, were headed in his direction, pointing toward
the chapel and talking excitedly between themselves. They had clearly heard
the monk’s cries and were no doubt coming to investigate.

“Damn
it!” Cade swore and glanced around hurriedly, looking for another way out, but
the door he was standing next to was the only way in or out of the chapel. The
minute Cade opened the door even a fraction of an inch more they would see him
and once that happened he’d have to fight his way through. There was no other way
to get around them in the narrow confines of the transept.

He
was trapped!

He
backed away from the door, sword in hand, wanting to give himself enough room
to maneuver if the men came through. He was looking at the reliquary,
wondering if he could lift it easily enough to use it as a missile to toss at
the other men’s heads as they entered the room, when his gaze fell upon the
mirrored glass covering the walls at the back of the alcove.

Mirrors.

Cade
smiled at the sight.