The Rose Conspiracy (20 page)

“Exactly,” Lamb replied with a smile. “So…how does one cure that problem?”

“You make sure,” Julia chimed in, “that you exert strict controls over the training of the successive leaders.”

“Naw, never works,” Tully chimed in. “Not really. Human nature being the way it is, you can attempt any set of controls you want. I saw that at the NSA when I worked there—perfect protocols on paper. But then you put it into the hands of human beings, and you have what they call the ‘human behavioral factors.' As something gets passed from hand to hand, there's always degradation of the original content. Control? That's just a relative term.”

“I don't think that Reverend Lamb is talking about
quality
control over ideology or doctrine—are you, Uncle?”

“No, I'm not,” he said quietly. “Something altogether different.”

“Yes,” Blackstone said with a smile, and with a look in his eye that reflected an understanding no one else at the table shared with him except his uncle. Blackstone had already grasped Reverend Lamb's point quickly. As usual, before anyone else. But the notion that his uncle was proposing was, to Blackstone, preposterous beyond description.

“You're talking about
quantity
control—control of days…and years…that's what this is all about?” Blackstone said, leaning over the table, staring at Reverend Lamb.

“I've been researching Freemasonry for two decades,” Lamb said in a strained, controlled voice. “I knew there was a primary, cultic center to it. If I could just find it—locate the missing center piece. What was the principal secret that the high echelon of Masonic thinkers and leaders were hiding, I would ask myself. What was their ultimate religious agenda? They say, in their writings, ‘the brotherhood of man.' Yes, that is what the foot soldiers are told. But what did the architects and the generals really believe?”

“Then,” Lamb continued, “you brought me into this case, J.D. And I considered your question—about the significance of the tree as a religious symbol—and there it was…beginning to unfold right in front of me. Remember my reading you from the book called
Builders of Man
? Well, listen to this concluding statement by the English Masonic author. He says that the Freemason will have to continue to wear the Masonic garb, the white apron, and so forth…

…until the final Keystone of Universal Being is discovered ready, in the Stone by the Builders rejected, but now the Crown of life, the fulfillment of Hope.

“I recognize some of that,” Julia said, “from my old catechism days. ‘The stone rejected'
—
that's a reference in the New Testament to Christ, isn't it?”

“It's intended that way in the New Testament, certainly,” Lamb shot back. “But in Masonry, which creates a whole substratum of secondary meanings hidden in their words, I would suggest it means something else. The key here is the use of the word
stone.
And its linkage to the concept of life—‘universal being' as this Masonic author calls it.”

There was a pause around the table. Then Lamb broke the silence.

“Ever hear the term ‘philosopher's stone'?” he asked.

Blackstone's face reacted, but he kept his peace. Only Jason spoke up.

“Man, am I the only one around here who reads the Harry Potter books?” the young paralegal said with a tinge of embarrassment. “Okay, call me a dork. But I thought they were interesting.”

“Yes, you're onto something, Jason,” Lamb said. “Magic potions and so forth. The philosopher's stone for more than a thousand years has been the term that refers to a special substance that supposedly could be used in alchemy with very astounding results.”

“Turning base metals into gold, I thought that was the deal,” Blackstone shot out.

“Partially,” Lamb said. “But the deeply esoteric alchemists were after something much more powerful than that. They thought it possible to isolate and then apply a substance that would increase human longevity—human life—indefinitely.
Immortality.
That was what the alchemists were really after. And that is exactly what lies at the heart of the greatest secret of the Freemasons. The desire to find a way to cheat death. And thereby to continue the Masonic reign of the selected ones indefinitely.”

While the group around the table was trying to comprehend what Reverend Lamb had just said, the old Anglican professor put the period at the end of it all.

“And that, ladies and gentlemen,” he said with a flourish, “is my third, final, and most important point.”

Blackstone stood up.

“Alright, folks, shows over,” he said. “Let's all get back to work. Do something productive.”

Julia stood up and smiled at Blackstone's uncle.

“Thanks for all of that, Reverend Lamb,” she said with a smile. “Very interesting.” Then she threw her senior partner a look and left the room. Jason scurried after her.

Tully was chuckling and shaking his head as he walked out of the conference room.

“Now if you'll excuse me,” Blackstone said to his uncle, “I have to try to keep my client out of the death chamber.”

“Don't you have any response to what I just told you?” Lamb said with a sense of pleading in his voice.

“Yes, but I'd rather not insult you with it,” Blackstone said. “Look, this was probably my fault, bringing you into this. Criminal law is a tough business. The government doesn't play games. It gets ruthless. And all you've got to offer me are your stories about magic and buried religious documents that are fifteen hundred years old, and…alchemy for heaven's sake.
Alchemy!
”

With that, Blackstone turned and strode out of the conference room, leaving his uncle to gather up his books and papers and then find his own way out.

CHAPTER 28

B
lackstone spent the rest of the day working on his oral arguments for his appeal in Vinnie's case before the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia Circuit. Julia had done most of the work on the written brief to the Court and, as usual, had done an excellent job. Written arguments by both sides had been filed on an expedited schedule because, for better or worse, Blackstone had filed a demand for speedy trial in Vinnie's case. Now, oral arguments were only two days away.

The file on
United States v. Vinnie Archmont
was spread out on a side table next to Blackstone's desk. On top was a manila envelope with a warning in large bold lettering, taped onto the outside of the envelope. It read,

WARNING!

CONTENTS ARE PROHIBITED FROM BEING VIEWED BY ANYONE OTHER THAN J.D. BLACKSTONE PURSUANT TO AN ORDER OF THE U.S. DISTRICT COURT

This was the central issue in Blackstone's appeal. The defense was arguing that the trial judge had erred when he granted the government's motion to seal off any viewing of the note of Horace Langley, likely the last thing the man ever wrote before his murder, from everyone on the defense side except Blackstone himself.

There were only two chances Blackstone had to win. First, he could
try to attack the government's affidavit testimony that the note had to be kept secret because making it public might jeopardize their ongoing criminal investigation into “other conspirators.” But Blackstone knew he lacked the proof for that.

Or second, he could show that Vinnie's legal defense would be irreparably hampered by preventing Blackstone from having his assistants or his “expert” read the full contents of the note.

Blackstone picked up the manila envelope, opened the little metal clasp, and pulled back the flap. Then he dug his hand inside and pulled out a piece of paper that contained the note of Horace Langley exactly as it had been deciphered by Dr. Coglin. There it was again. It had been a while since Blackstone had actually studied it in its entirety:

A strange cipher appears in the Booth diary as follows:

To AP and KGC

Rose of 6 is Sir al ik's golden tree

In gospel's Mary first revealed

At Ashli plot reveals the key

As he studied it, he wondered how he could argue that this cryptic note was a critical element of the case and in fact essential to the defense theory of Vinnie's innocence. He couldn't help but think about Reverend Lamb and his extraordinary speculations about Freemasonry, Gnosticism, and alchemy.

Blackstone noted, once again, the reference in the third line to “gospel's Mary,” seemingly a New Testament reference.
Okay,
he thought,
there it is, the religious element again.
But he had no idea what the “Rose of 6,” or “Sir al ik's golden tree” were. Or, for that matter, what “Ashli plot” meant—was it a place name? A location? Or something else?

And he wondered what “key” it was that was intended in the last line. Of course, it was very possible that what Horace Langley was reading in the John Wilkes Booth diary pages—and then copied down in his note—had absolutely nothing to do with his death. Maybe his murder and the theft of those diary pages of indisputable historical value, were both totally unrelated to that one particular part of the diary that happened to catch Langley's attention just before the crime occurred. And if
the three federal appeal judges believed that was the case, then Blackstone knew that his appeal on the Langley note issue would be doomed.

But there was another thought, and it had nothing to do with the legal issues or the evidence. It had to do with what Tully aptly called the “human behavioral factors.” More specifically,
J.D. Blackstone's
behavior.

Must be nice for Vinnie to live a guilt-free existence,
he thought to himself, feeling awash in regret over the way he had treated his uncle.

He picked up the phone and called Reverend Lamb's office but didn't get an answer. Then he tried his home. He let it ring a number of times, but no one answered. His uncle didn't believe in answering machines, so Blackstone couldn't leave a message.

How does this guy survive in the twenty-first century?
he wondered as he returned to his file to work some more on the appeal issues.

Thirty minutes later he called again. This time Reverend Lamb picked up.

“Uncle,” Blackstone said, “J.D. here.”

“Yes. Good of you to call,” Lamb said, a little out of breath. “I was just coming into the house with my dry-cleaning. I had quite a pile to pick up. The woman at the dry cleaners said it's been down there for more than a month. I had forgotten about it until just recently.”

“Just wanted…to thank you,” Blackstone said slightly ill at ease, “you know, for all the work you put in.”

“Don't mention it,” Lamb replied.

“You should get paid for your time. Just itemize your hours and send it in to me,” Blackstone said. “You deserve to get compensated, just like any other expert on one of my cases.”

“I didn't do it for the money,” Reverend Lamb said plainly. “Not at all.”

“I know,” Blackstone replied sheepishly. “But still, I want to pay you. As a gesture of appreciation.”

After a pause, Reverend Lamb responded.

“You never asked me any follow-up questions,” Lamb said sadly. “I figured that meant you really didn't see much use in what I had to say.”

Blackstone was rolling his eyes, feeling worse now than before he called.

“This is not a personal thing,” he said. “It's simply a matter of whether your opinions have relevance to the legal issues, that's all. Sometimes an expert's opinions can move the ball forward…and sometimes they can't.”

“And in this case?” Reverend Lamb asked.

The question hung out there in the air. Almost tangibly. Blackstone could practically see it floating in front of him, like a dialogue balloon in a comic strip.

“Tell me something,” Blackstone said, glancing down at the Horace Langley note on the table in front of him. “About those so-called ‘Gnostic gospels' you talked about.”

“Yes?”