The Lafayette Sword (14 page)

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Authors: Eric Giacometti

Tags: #Freemasons;Freemason secrets;Freemasonry;Gold;Nicolas Flamel;thriller;secret societies;Paris;New York;Statue of Liberty;esoteric thriller;secret;secret knowledge;enlightenment;Eiffel tower

BOOK: The Lafayette Sword
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48

Present day

Aurora Source to
all Aurora

Trading price.
Overheated trading triggered by fear of falling prices is expected three days from now in Southeast Asia. Aurora Tokyo recommends buying at the fixed price on the ei
ghteenth.

Research.
Aurora Sao Paulo has sent the results of nano research conducted by Professor Ugarte at the University of Campinas. Ugarte and his colleagues have created an image of the world's smallest alloy of gold and silver. According to the scientists, an alloy of twenty percent gold and eighty percent silver has the appearance of gold, rather than silver. The researchers want to continue the experiment with gold a
nd copper.

Aurora Paris has added an excerpt from a report sent by the economic adviser at the French Embassy in Brazil to the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs: “The results offer important insights into the behavior of alloys and their use in key sectors, including construction, and microele
ctronics.”

Meeting update.
Following the GATA report, the monthly meeting in London is postponed until more information is
available.

49

Rue Saint Jacques de la Boucherie

March 21, 1355

F
lamel sat as still as a statue, waiting for Arhus to tell him what happened. The answer cam
e quickly.

“Master Flamel, an image preys on you. It has awakened obscure demons in you. During the interrogation, you kept turning around and looking at her. The sin of lust inhabits you. I alone am the one who puri
fied her.”

“Flore de Cenevières,” Fl
amel said.

Arthus leaped up. “You remember her name. I recommend that you forget it immediately, like everything else y
ou heard.”

Flamel's hands were shaking, but it was too late to turn back. “You are the one who holds my memory, sir torturer. You must appease it. I want t
he truth.”

The wooden crucifix on one of the whitewashed walls vacillated in the flickering light of the fire. Arthus was silent as he sta
red at it.

“What would you like to know that I have not already told you?” he fin
ally said.

“What happened when I fainted? I can't sleep anymore. I will not leave until I know the truth, be it of God or the Devil. I am a child of J
esus and—”

“And in front of him, you are my accomplice. If I sinned, we will be damned together. I purified her. That's all. I cleansed her of her stains. It was part of th
e ritual.”

“My
God, you…”

“Yes.”

Flamel tensed. He needed to get out of this hell. Leave… Or
kill him.

Arthus turned away from the cross and fixed his eyes on Flamel. “I'm surprised that you're so shocked, considering everything that preceded it. Didn't that disturb you, as well? It doesn't matter now. As I said, she's on her way back to her family. And you're free to go wherever you like. But you will not speak of it or anything else you saw in that room, because you are an accessory to
the act.”

Flamel got out of his chair and started towar
d Arthus.

The torturer paid him no mind. “Actually, I'd say she was rather fortunate. Her life was spared, and no one will be t
he wiser.”

“No one but that poor girl,” Flamel said, inches away from the
torturer.

Arthus let out a hellish laugh. “Come now, Master Flamel, haven't you ever considered cleansing
a virgin?”

50

Grand Orient Masonic Hall

Present day

M
arcas flipped the switch, and light filled the temple. He walked to the center and stood where Paul had been stabbed. All around him, swords shone with the same cold glimmer. They were
identical.

He headed back to the entrance, where two columns symbolically held up the entry to the temple. Jachin was on the right, and Boaz was on the left. The origin of the names and their exact meaning had been lost and remained a mystery to
this day.

“The blade follows the flame of perfection. In the shadow o
f Jachin.”

Those words had been passed down from one generation to the next, and as unclear as they seemed, they had to have a precise meaning. Freemasons didn't really have a taste for the layers of encoding found in fiction, where their purpose was creating
suspense.

Marcas stood next to the columns and looked at the checkerboard floor for any sign of a shadow.
Nothing.

He returned to the rows of seats and sat down. The lighting in this temple had been updated, and it had been many years since they had used candles here. He needed to figure out how the room would have looked in candlelight. Then maybe he could determine where the illusive shadow would fall and where the sword could
be found.

Marcas scanned the temple. He knew these walls once had fixtures for candles. He walked over to the Jachin column, looked up, and found a forged-iron candle holder. He traced an imaginary line along the floor and followed it through the rows and up the wall, where the light beam would have ended—between two mallets. A solitary sword hu
ng there.

Jackpot.

He took it down. There was nothing special about it. It was thin, flexible, and incapable of piercing anyone. He looked at the handle. It was made of smooth metal and had no inscription. He inspected the hilt, but found nothing. Then, on the blade, he saw a few engra
ved words.

His heart starting pounding. He'd found a key to the enigma, hidden for centuries. He read the engraving. “Gift from Brother Filleul, a Paris gentleman, to his brothers of the Very Respectab
le Lodge…”

Marcas didn't finish. He dropped the sword on a chair. It was just a gift, a forgotten gift from a brother to his brethren. It had nothing to do with the Lafaye
tte sword.

But he wasn't about to give up. Marcas repeated the enigmatic sentences: “The blade follows the flame of perfection. In the shadow o
f Jachin.”

He'd forgotten
the flame.

He reached for his phone and called the grand secretary. Guy Andrivaux would have some ideas, if any
body did.

“Marcas… I was just going to call y
ou about—”

“Tell me later. I just have a question. Flame. What does that mean for you as a Mason—either the word or th
e object?”

“It's a symbol of liberty,” Andrivaux said without hesitation. “You find it in stories and p
aintings.”

“Of course,” Marcas said. That obvious answer wasn't going to get him
anywhere.

“You often find it in Masonic represe
ntations.”

“What, liberty or t
he flame?”

“Liberty is represented as a flame, and that flame is always held up by
a woman.”

Marcas ended the call without even saying good-bye. Of course. He needed to look for
the woman!

A marble bust of Marianne, the symbol of French freedom, was above the entrance to the temple. Around her neck were the Masonic symbols of the compass and the square. Marianne—an image rich in meaning for both the Old World an
d the New.

Marcas walked over to the entrance and stood under Marianne. He looked at Jachin and then followed an invisible line to a display
of swords.

One sword was a few centimeters higher than the others. The blade wasn't as shiny as the rest, and it looked older. Marcas removed the sword. It was heavier than the first one. Taking it in both hands, he realized that it was a real weapon, nearly identical to the others, except the blade was stiff. On the handle, he saw a tiny coat of arms, which he immediately recognized as that of the Lafayet
te family.

He couldn't believe it. Here he was, holding the sword the Marquis de Lafayette had taken to America to fight alongside George Washington some two hundred and forty years earlier. He envisioned his idealistic brother—who was hardly twenty at the time—brandishing the sword under the brilliant sun of the future American
Republic.

Marcas returned to the present. He examined the weapon more carefully. He held it up to the light and found an inscription in tiny letters running the length of the blade. A clue, hidden from prying eyes and protected in a temple to the glory of i
ts master.

Marcas took a deep breath and read it out loud: “New York, where, in turn, speak brothers of all ways, truth lies in the center of the ancient ga
ze. 1886.”

He frowned. This was wrong. Eighteen eighty-six was a century after Lafayette's involvement in the American Revolution. Certainly, someone had added the inscription at a much l
ater date.

The street was nearly empty when he left the building, except for a man in the café across the street. Excited by his discovery, Marcas waved down a taxi without giving it an
y thought.

51

Rue Saint Jacques de la Boucherie

March 21, 1355

S
hrieking from the street woke Lady Perenelle. She reached for her husband, but he wasn't there. She leaped out of bed and peeked out the window. She saw shapes moving in the morning fog, people running. She heard what sounded like a distant moan. Lady Perenelle returned to the bed and felt around where her husband should have been. For several nights, he had gotten out of bed, but he had always come back before morning. But this morning, the sheets were cold. There was more agitation outside. Doors were slamming. The street was filled with m
urmurings.

“He's been killed,” she heard so
meone say.

Lady Perenelle rushed down the stairs and out the front door just in time to see someone carrying off a cry
ing woman.

“What's h
appening?”

Master Maillard, snug in a fur, looked at her. “What? You don't know? You're just like your
husband.”

Lady Perenelle glanced at the door of their shop, which was wide open. Her husband was nowhere to
be found.

“Just the other day, I was the one who told him that a villain was being burned at t
he stake…”

Lady Perenelle wasn't listening. She advanced toward the crowd in front of the house across the street, stopping short when the soldiers showed up, followed by an officer of the king's guard. They pushed the peo
ple aside.

“It's never a good sign when the watch guard arrives,” Maillard said. “But when it's with a king's officer, things are really bad. “So where's your husband, Lady Perenelle? He couldn't possibly sleep thro
ugh this.”

And out of nowhere, her husband appeared. He looked like he'd returned from
the dead.

“So neighbor, are you coming for the news?” Mail
lard said.

Flamel simply stared. The furrier was starting to speak again when a cluster of men in black sprang from around the corner. They descended on the house like a dark buzz
ing swarm.

“The keeper's horde,” Lady Perenelle said, making the sign of
the cross.

Others followed suit. Everyone shook at the sight of these men in black. They were the secret police working under the direction of Bernard de Rhenac, the keeper of the seals and head of the ministry of justice. Rhenac was the most powerful man in the country after the king. His horde included henchmen and others on the edge of the law. They were almost as powerful as the man they served, and the abuses they committed were w
ell known.

“What's going on?” Lady Perenelle cried out, turning to he
r husband.

Maillard answered for him. “For God's sake, Lady Perenelle. The torturer was
killed.”

Lady Perenelle reached for her husband's hand. It was as cold
as death.

52

Present day

Aurora New Delhi to Aur
ora Source

Events.
In three months, the World Gold Council will sponsor a seminar on the economic progress of Indian women over the next five years. Jewelry accounts for more than seventy percent of worldwide demand for gold. According to the WGC, India is a leading consumer of gold jewelry. Sales are up fourteen percent from last year and now outpace sales in the United States. It's believed that much of the demand is for dowries, as sales peak during the fall marria
ge season.

Transactions.
A German gold bar has surfaced at a branch of the Seguridad de Banco de Lima. It's the second of its kind to show up in Latin America in a two-month period. The first was sold in Santiago. The seller had apparently tried to remove the stamp of the Third Reich eagle. Video recordings from both banks show the same man. Identification is pending. Many Nazi fugitives settled in Latin America after the war, and we predict that SS gold stock inherited by their descendants will go on the market. We're requesting authorization to use the Security and Intervention Department for appropriate response. The gold booty collected by the Nazis during World War II—from the pillaging of banks and homes in occupied countries and the collection of jewelry and teeth in the concentration camps—amounted to several hun
dred tons.

Other.
Shares of Pharmaceutica del Pilar climbed ten points, following publication in the
British Medical Journal
of a successful gold-salt-based treatment for rheumatism. We sold more than 300 thousand shares, netting a profit of nearly three million euros, to be split among our
investors.

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