{"id":6491,"date":"2026-01-10T10:09:27","date_gmt":"2026-01-10T10:09:27","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/adept-03-the-templar-treasure-kurtz-katherine\/"},"modified":"2026-01-10T10:09:27","modified_gmt":"2026-01-10T10:09:27","slug":"adept-03-the-templar-treasure-kurtz-katherine","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/adept-03-the-templar-treasure-kurtz-katherine\/","title":{"rendered":"Adept 03 – The Templar Treasure – Kurtz, Katherine"},"content":{"rendered":"
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Book Preview<\/h3>\n
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Katherine Kurtz – Adept 03 – The Templar Treasure<\/h1>\n

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A SECRET BROTHERHOOD. AN ANCIENT EVIL\u2026<\/p>\n

Mystic and historian, Sir Adam Sinclair is Master of the Hunt, leader of a secret brotherhood at war with the dark and unholy Powers that menace our world.\u00a0 <\/span>Now an urgent summons sets the Adept on a life-or-death search for the Seal of Solomon, an ancient bronze artifact that can bind – or unleash – the demons of old. <\/p>\n

Guarded for centuries by the legendary Knights Templar, the Seal has been stolen by ruthless and dangerous forces.<\/p>\n

If humanity is to survive, Sinclair must complete the quest for\u2026<\/p>\n

THE TEMPLAR TREASURE<\/p>\n

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the authors\u2019 imaginations or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.<\/p>\n

THE ADEPT: THE TEMPLAR TREASURE<\/p>\n

An Ace Book \/ published by arrangement with the authors<\/p>\n

PRINTING HISTORY<\/p>\n

Ace mass market edition \/ July 1993<\/p>\n

Copyright \u00a9 1993 by Bill Fawcett and Associates and Katherine Kurtz. Cover art by Bryant Eastman.<\/p>\n

All rights reserved.<\/p>\n

This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author\u2019s rights is appreciated. ;<\/p>\n

For information address: The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10.014.<\/p>\n

ISBN: 0-441-00.345-1<\/p>\n

ACE\u00ae Ace Books are published by The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. 375 Hudson Street, New York<\/state>, New York<\/state> 10.014.<\/p>\n

ACE and the \u201cA\u201d design are trademarks belonging to Penguin Group (USA) Inc.<\/p>\n

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA<\/p>\n

For<\/p>\n

Dr. Sheila Rossi,<\/p>\n

who taught Adam Sinclair<\/p>\n

much of what he knows about hypnosis,<\/p>\n

and also for Christine Hackett and Suzanne Eberle<\/p>\n

\u00a0<\/p>\n

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS<\/p>\n

Grateful thanks are owed to the following people, whose assistance was invaluable in filling out much of the rich background for this book:<\/p>\n

Ms. Kirsty Beck, for technical information concerning not only Hebrew art objects of the First Temple Period but also archaeological methods of dating such artifacts;<\/p>\n

Cantor Alwyn Shulman, Dublin and Terenure Hebrew Congregations, and Dr. Jay Barry Azneer, D.O. for insights into Jewish funeral practices;<\/p>\n

Mr. Donald Little, administrator of Fyvie Castle on behalf of the National Trust for Scotland, and his wife, Liz, for their generosity in allowing us to spend five hours of their precious time exploring Fyvie;<\/p>\n

Mr. Brian Nodes, administrator at Blair<\/placename>Castle<\/placetype>, for opening up Earl John\u2019s Room after the end of season and allowing a private look at Bonnie Dundee\u2019s breastplate and morion;<\/p>\n

Dr. Martin Hardgrave, for sharing with us a resident\u2019s knowledge of the city of York;<\/p>\n

Dr. Ernan J. Gallagher, Ireland, and Dr. A. V. Davidson, Scotland, for technical medical advice;<\/p>\n

Dr. Richard Oram, for his continuing guidance on questions of Scottish history;<\/p>\n

Mr. Kenneth Fraser of the St. Andrews University Library, for his ongoing assistance in matters of general research;<\/p>\n

And the staff of the St. Andrews Tourist Information Bureau, for their cheerful readiness to dig up all manner of information not covered by the guidebooks.<\/p>\n

prologue<\/p>\n

THE Yorkshire home of Professor Nathan Fiennes was fitted with the latest in household security systems. Ritchie Logan even knew what kind, because the company installing it had seen fit to publicize the fact by fixing a bright red box to the gable end of the house, marked with their company logo. Such displays were intended to deter casual thieves – and maybe they did deter amateurs and opportunists – but Logan was a professional. As far as he was concerned, knowing in advance that the house was wired only served to make his job easier.\u00a0 <\/span>But then, the promise of easy pickings had been one of the attractions of this job. Besides being offered a handsome cash retainer merely to breach the house\u2019s security and open the safe, Logan had been assured that he might have his pick of the jewellery and other valuables kept there. The man who\u2019d engaged him for this job, sitting in the passenger seat of the rented Volvo, was after something else entirely – some kind of archaeological artifact.<\/p>\n

Logan cruised slowly past the cul-de-sac where the house lay, and noted with satisfaction that nothing had changed. Half an hour before, from a vantage point on the main road, he and his employer had watched the owners and their dinner guests leave, all of them dressed for the theatre as anticipated. If no one returned in the time it took to make one more long orbit around the city walls, Logan felt reasonably confident that the house would remain empty for at least another two to three hours. As he swung into Monkgate, heading toward the city, he stole a sidelong glance at the man sitting next to him.\u00a0 <\/span>He still had not figured out Monsieur Henri Gerard. The Frenchman looked nothing like the sort of man likely to hire a professional cat burglar. Had Logan seen him on the street, he would have pegged Gerard as someone hoping one day to make a name for himself in law or politics – conservatively well dressed and respectable-looking, probably approaching forty, with sleek, dark hair brushed straight back from a high forehead and a dapper moustache trimmed pencil-thin in a style reminiscent of a young Maurice Chevalier. This Gallic impression was heightened by the continental cut of his dark suit and the fact that he spoke English with a Parisian inflection.<\/p>\n

He was an odd duck, Logan decided, as he eased the big car along Lord Mayor\u2019s Walk and then swung left into Gillygate, skirting the city\u2019s medieval walls. \u00a0<\/span>From the very beginning, Gerard had made it clear that his sole purpose in coming to England was to acquire an antique bronze seal currently in the possession of the owner of the house targeted for tonight\u2019s venture. According to Gerard, the seal was of value only to a historian like himself. If that was true, it would confirm Logan\u2019s suspicion that the Frenchman was one of those academic fanatics who would do literally anything in order to steal a march on a rival scholar – in this case, Dr. Nathan Fiennes, a distinguished philosopher presently lecturing at the University<\/placetype> of York<\/placename>.<\/p>\n

None of this had anything to do with Logan, of course. And even if Gerard was lying, and the seal was worth more than he was letting on, Logan was prepared to let him have it, provided that the rest of the takings were as lucrative as the Frenchman had made out. Finding a suitable buyer for a stolen museum piece was always a time-consuming enterprise, requiring far more work than Logan was willing to invest when there were much quicker profits to be made on more conventional commodities.<\/p>\n

The only real catch in the arrangement was that Gerard had insisted on taking part in the burglary. Logan would have much preferred to do the job alone, but the Frenchman had argued with some heat that he had to be present to authenticate the seal, on the chance that Fiennes might have had a copy made. \u00a0<\/span>Logan could think of no reason why Fiennes should have wanted to do anything of the sort; but then again, academics of Gerard\u2019s caliber were seemingly a breed apart. And since, in any case, Gerard was already paying for the privilege of sharing the risks, Logan had resigned himself to the necessity of having the Frenchman along for company.<\/p>\n

He just hoped that Gerard wouldn\u2019t do anything stupid that might risk their getting caught.<\/p>\n

They crawled past the vast, floodlit pile that was York Minster, with the delicate tracery of its spires and towers bright against the starry backdrop of a mid-September night. On through the night-hushed streets they wove, emerging through the Monk Bar Gate and picking up speed as they headed back along Monkgate again. Half a mile northeast of the historic city center, as Logan made the turn into the darker, quieter streets of an established residential suburb, Gerard sat forward, apparently unaware how his eagerness showed.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cJust relax,\u201d Logan told his employer. \u201cFrom here on out, we\u2019ve got to look like we belong to this neighborhood. We don\u2019t want to do anything to draw attention to ourselves.\u201d<\/p>\n

The Fiennes house was one of three detached stone villas that stood at the bottom of a crescent-shaped cul-de-sac. Alert but relaxed, Logan drove on around the corner into the adjoining street and parked the Volvo at the curb in an island of shadow between two streetlamps. The two men alighted unhurriedly from the car and set off up the sidewalk at a leisurely pace. A casual observer, noting their conservatively cut trenchcoats and expensive leather briefcases, would have taken them for two businessmen out to pay a social call on a friend.\u00a0 <\/span>They used a public footpath to cut back in the direction of their goal across the narrow, grassy common that ran between the two opposing rows of back gardens. The Fienneses\u2019 property was enclosed by a high wall, but the lock on the garden gate yielded readily to Logan\u2019s expert manipulations with a lock pick. He let himself inside and swiftly beckoned Gerard to follow, pulling the gate to but not latched. Crouching low in the shrubbery flanking the wall, the two paused to don black balaclava helmets and tight-fitting surgical gloves before making their way stealthily up the flagstoned walk to the conservatory at the rear of the house.<\/p>\n

Gerard watched in tight-lipped anticipation as Logan took a specialized assortment of implements from his briefcase and set himself to disabling the alarm system, his work illuminated by a tiny pencil-flash held between his teeth. In less than a minute they were inside the conservatory. A glass sliding door leading into the house yielded in a matter of seconds, after which Logan led his employer stealthily into the narrow confines of the downstairs hall, where a small lamp glowed on a side table. Gerard made a darting movement toward the foot of the staircase, only to feel Logan\u2019s restraining hand catch at his sleeve.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot so fast,\u201d the thief whispered. \u201cThe stuff in the safe isn\u2019t going anywhere, is it? Then slow down, and let\u2019s do this thing according to plan.\u201d Nodding somewhat sullenly, Gerard dropped back to let Logan precede him up the stairs, toward where an overhead light dimly illuminated the upstairs landing. \u00a0<\/span>The upper regions of the house were silent except for the hollow ticking of a grandfather clock standing against the wall just outside the study. An ornate mezuzah of finely wrought silver graced the right-hand lintel of the study door, and Logan grinned thinly to himself as he pried it off and slipped it into his pocket. The door swung back on silent hinges as Logan led the way across the threshold into a large square room redolent of pipe tobacco and book bindings.\u00a0 <\/span>Light spilled from the landing through the open doorway. The room\u2019s only window lay directly opposite, with a large desk set before it. The curtains were standing open, affording a darkling view of the garden below.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cGet the curtains,\u201d Logan ordered, moving to the left, where the entire wall was taken up by an immense built-in bookcase. When Gerard had complied, Logan shone the beam of his electric torch along the fourth shelf from the top until its light picked up a mousy-looking set of commentaries on the Talmud.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI\u2019ve found the benchmark texts you said to look for,\u201d he reported in a clipped undertone, turning to set his briefcase on a corner of the desk. \u201cCome and hold the light while I lift them out.\u201d<\/p>\n

As keen as his associate to get on with the job, Gerard made haste to comply, setting his own case on the desk\u2019s chair. Logan removed the books from their place and set them aside on the desk. The cavity left behind on the shelf was backed not with walnut panelling, but with the metal door to a small wall safe fitted with an old-fashioned combination lock.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, well, this thing\u2019s practically an antique in itself,\u201d the thief exclaimed in tones of scornful satisfaction. \u201cLet\u2019s arrange for a little more light on the subject, and we\u2019ll be in and out before you know it.\u201d There was a goosenecked reading lamp on the desk. Logan angled it round so that the shaded bulb was pointing toward the safe before switching it on. Then, taking a stethoscope out of his case, he pushed back his balaclava helmet and donned the earpieces with workmanlike efficiency.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cGo out in the hall and keep watch,\u201d he directed over his shoulder. \u201cIf you hear anything suspicious, sing out.\u201d<\/p>\n

Much as it galled him to take orders from his English hireling, Gerard knew it was a sensible precaution. Suppressing a pang of irritation, he retreated to the hall while Logan gave his attention to dialling up the opening combination. The seconds ticked away with what seemed like maddening slowness. Gerard was about to inquire sharply how much longer the operation was likely to take when there was a muffled exclamation of triumph from inside the office.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cGot it!\u201d<\/p>\n

Gerard rushed back into the room to find Logan opening velvet-covered jewellers\u2019 boxes into his briefcase. A diamond tiara and a necklace dripping with diamonds and emeralds already gleamed in the glancing light of the goosenecked lamp, and a pair of diamond clips and a string of pearls quickly joined them, their boxes tossed onto a growing pile on the floor as Logan riffled through a sheaf of negotiable bonds with obvious satisfaction. Lying next to the briefcase was a battered wooden box the size of a small, thick book, its lid inlaid with Hebrew characters.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs that what you\u2019re looking for?\u201d Logan said drily at Gerard\u2019s gasp, indicating the box with a jerk of his chin.<\/p>\n

Heart pounding, Gerard pounced on the box and flipped it open. Inside, pillowed on faded crimson velvet, was an oval of age-blackened bronze nearly the size of a man\u2019s palm, pivot-mounted between the arms of a heavy arc of the same dark metal. The device deeply etched into the face of the disc was that of a six-pointed star made of interlocking triangles, surrounded by a serpentine scroll of Qabalistic script.<\/p>\n

Almost reverently Gerard allowed himself to touch the seal with one trembling forefinger. It still staggered him to reflect that the seal – the seal – had been in the Fiennes family for so many generations without any of its keepers even suspecting the incalculable potency vested in the object they had in their possession.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, yes,\u201d he breathed, licking his lips like a wolf who scents meat. \u201cBut I must be sure.\u201d<\/p>\n

All but quivering with eagerness, he took a jeweller\u2019s loupe from the breast pocket of his suit coat and adjusted it in his eye, at the same time lifting the seal from its box with his free hand and moving over into the light. A brief examination of the face of the seal confirmed that the design had been etched with a tracer rather than a graver – circumstantial evidence, at least, that the piece had been crafted prior to 800 b.c. But the real proof Gerard was looking for was a recent telltale scratch on the inside of the mounting.\u00a0 <\/span>To the sound of more loot going into Logan\u2019s case, Gerard rotated the seal in the glare of the lamp. His breath caught in his throat as his searching gaze found what he was seeking – the scratch he himself had made a few months back, in the course of taking a sample shaving of the metal. Subsequent photomicrographic analysis of the shaving had confirmed the seal\u2019s genuine antiquity. And now it was in his hands at last!<\/p>\n

\u201cWe can go now,\u201d he murmured, smiling almost dreamily as he laid the seal reverently back in its box and closed the lid. \u201cThis is, indeed, the piece.\u201d In that same instant, Logan suddenly stiffened in a listening attitude, his manner all at once apprehensive and alert.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat is it? What\u2019s wrong?\u201d Gerard demanded in a startled undertone.<\/p>\n

\u201cCar in the driveway,\u201d Logan muttered.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s imposs – \u201c<\/p>\n

Logan gestured vehemently for silence. An instant later, they heard a pair of car doors open and slam, and then the patter of footsteps coming up the front walk, high heels and leather soles, making for the front door.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cMust\u2019ve been a bad show,\u201d Logan said, already snapping his briefcase shut and heading for the door, pulling his balaclava back into place. \u201cWe\u2019ve got maybe forty seconds to get the hell out of here!\u201d<\/p>\n

His hand was already on the study door. Gerard looked stunned, but likewise went into action. Gripping the wooden box tightly in his right hand, he made a clumsy left-handed grab for his own carrying case, but his gloved fingers miscued and it slipped from his grasp, striking the carpet with a muffled thud and bouncing out of reach under the chair.<\/p>\n

Logan fetched up with a virulent whispered curse as Gerard scrambled to retrieve the case. From downstairs came the rattle of a key being turned in the front door lock. Showing teeth like a pit bull terrier, Logan gently closed the study door as the one below in the vestibule creaked open. A woman\u2019s voice, slightly muffled, floated up to them from the ground floor in tones of indulgent reproof.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHonestly, Nathan, you really shouldn\u2019t have let David Wolfson talk you into having burgundy with the meal. I probably shouldn\u2019t even keep it in the house any more. You know perfectly well what red wine does to your digestion these days!\u201d<\/p>\n

Gerard recognized the voice as that of Rachel Fiennes. Her admonition drew a rueful groan from her husband.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know, I know,\u201d the intruders heard him say. \u201cI was hoping that just this once – But I\u2019m far more distressed that I made you miss out on the second half of the performance.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t give it another thought, my dear,\u201d came Rachel\u2019s amiable reply. \u201cTo tell you the truth, I\u2019ve never been all that fond of Ibsen anyway. You\u2019d probably better have a couple of your stomach tablets, though. Where are they, in your desk upstairs? All right, you go on into the parlor and sit down, and I\u2019ll go fetch them for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

As soft footbeats mounted the stairs, Logan made a dive for the study lamp and switched it off. Catching Gerard by the sleeve, he hurried them both over to the wall on the blind side of the doorway, shrinking back as Mrs. Fiennes drew even with the threshold outside. The porcelain knob turned over with a rattle, and the door swung open.<\/p>\n

Light spilling in from the hallway showed up the opened safe and the tumble of books on the desk. Seeing it, Rachel gave a startled gasp and faltered abruptly to a standstill. In the same instant a lithe, dark figure lunged at her from behind the door and grabbed one wrist, jerking her into the room. She had just enough presence of mind to utter a shriek of alarm before her captor dealt her a heavy backhand blow that hurled her bruisingly against the inside wall.\u00a0 <\/span>In the parlor below, Nathan started up at the sound of his wife\u2019s scream. He heaved himself up out of his armchair and rushed out into the hall as two men in dark suits and balaclava helmets came thundering down the stairs. Both of them were carrying briefcases, and the taller of the pair was clutching a small wooden box to his chest with one gloved hand. With a sudden, terrible clarity of perception, Nathan recognized it as the box in which he habitually kept the seal he had inherited from his father.<\/p>\n

Not thinking of the possible consequences, he snatched his walking stick from the stand by the door and charged forward in a desperate attempt to stop the thieves. The blow he aimed at the man with the box went wide by a whistling inch. Before he could swing again, the second intruder slammed him in the temple with a sharp corner of his briefcase and wrenched the stick from his hand. Even as Nathan recoiled with a cry, instinctively flinging up an arm to the pain, the intruder took an overhead swing with the cane and dealt him a brutal crack across the back of his head.<\/p>\n

Red agony exploded inside his skull. With a choked moan, he reeled aside and collided with the stairpost. Before he could catch his balance, the intruder struck him a second blow with the cane and shouldered him roughly out of the way. As Nathan crumpled to the floor, still clinging to the stairpost, he heard their footsteps clattering past him out the door and down the front path.\u00a0 <\/span>The throbbing pain in his head was like repeated thrusts from a red-hot dagger. \u00a0<\/span>He put a hand to his temple and it came away sticky with blood. Groaning aloud, he made an effort to pull himself up only to slump down again in defeat. All but blind, he sensed movement above him, coming down the stairs, and heard his wife calling his name on a frantic note of inquiry. Clinging to consciousness with all the strength of will he could muster, he gasped out, \u201cRachel, the Seal! The thieves took the Seal!\u201d<\/p>\n

Rachel dropped to her knees beside him. He could hear her sobbing distractedly as she tried to loosen his tie.<\/p>\n

\u201cNathan, be still! Please don\u2019t try to talk!\u201d she begged. \u201cJust stay there and don\u2019t move while I call an ambulance.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, wait!\u201d Sensing she was about to move away from him, he groped for her hand and clung to it. \u201cRachel, you must listen!\u201d he rasped, hoping with all his heart that his strength would hold out long enough to get this vital message across. \u00a0<\/span>\u201cThings about the Seal you don\u2019t know – dangerous things. It\u2019s got to be recovered, at all cost! Call Sir Adam Sinclair and tell him what\u2019s happened. \u00a0<\/span>Tell him I\u2019ve got to talk to him. Promise me you\u2019ll call him tonight\u2026.\u201d His hold on awareness was slipping as he spoke. Rachel\u2019s voice came filtered through the haze, tearful and pleading.<\/p>\n

\u201cI will, Nathan. I\u2019ll do anything you ask. Just please, please lie still and let me go call for help.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nathan struggled a moment longer, striving for the strength to reassure her. But this time the darkness won out and overwhelmed him.<\/p>\n

chapter one<\/p>\n

\u201cHYPNOTIC age regression,\u201d said Sir Adam Sinclair, can be an exceedingly useful diagnostic tool for the psychiatric physician. If we accept that the majority of psychiatric disorders, whether neurotic or psychotic in their intensity, are to some degree rooted in the patient\u2019s personal past, then the value of gaining access to that past becomes immediately apparent. At the very least,\u201d he continued, keenly surveying the youthful upturned faces of his listeners, \u201chypnotic regression provides for the detailed retrieval and review of a wide range of personal data that might otherwise be inaccessible to the individual concerned, if only through the natural and inevitable clouding of the memory owing to passage of time. At its most useful, regression can provide the very key with which to unlock the shackles of a mind fettered by its own repressions.\u201d<\/p>\n

He was lecturing to his regular Monday afternoon class at the Royal Edinburgh Hospital, a mixed bag composed mainly of white-coated junior doctors on their psychiatric rotation but also including two social service workers, a retired university lecturer, and a woman deacon training for chaplaincy in the Episcopal Church. Their expressions reflected a gamut of reactions ranging from sober acknowledgement to skepticism, the latter of which was only to be expected and even encouraged, especially right after lunch.<\/p>\n

\u201cDr. Sinclair,\u201d said a stocky, bespectacled young man sitting in the first row, as he flung up a hand. \u201cI can see the possible usefulness of regressing a patient to an earlier age, but – is it true that you\u2019ve even managed to regress some of your own patients as far back as other previous lives?\u201d The question generated a minor stir of excitement. The dashing and elegant Dr. \u00a0<\/span>Sinclair had a reputation as something of an adventurer in the field of psychiatric therapy and practice, no doubt enhanced by his occasionally sensational association with Lothian and Borders Police as a psychiatric consultant. Had his audience known the true range of his knowledge and experience in the field now under discussion, the excitement might have turned to amazement, disbelief, and even fear.<\/p>\n

Adam smiled indulgently. \u201cIt\u2019s certainly been my experience that such regressions are possible,\u201d he acknowledged easily.<\/p>\n

His questioner looked astonished to have gotten an affirmative answer.<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, did you set out deliberately to induce these past-life regressions?\u201d \u201cYes, Mr. Huntley, I did,\u201d Adam said mildly. \u201cAnd you needn\u2019t look so scandalized. I am certainly not the first hypnotherapist to do so.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut – \u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s review a few notable case studies, shall we, and then you can draw your own conclusions,\u201d Adam offered, coming around to sit informally on the front of the desk. His crisply starched white lab coat was open casually over a three-piece navy suit of impeccable cut, with the mellow glint of an antique gold watch-fob swagged across the front of the vest. With his classic good looks and dark hair silvering at the temples, he might have been a media personality rather than the eminent psychiatrist he was.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll first mention the studies carried out in the seventies by Arnold Bloxham and Joe Keeton,\u201d Adam went on. \u201cBloxham was able to regress one of his subjects, a woman named Jane Evans, through no fewer than six previous lives, including that of a medieval Jewess named Rebecca who was killed in a pogrom that took place in York in 1190. \u2018Rebecca\u2019 was able to render a graphic description of the church crypt in which she and her child were trapped and subsequently murdered by the angry mob. After listening to a recording of \u2018Rebecca\u2019s\u2019 account, Professor Barrie Dob-son of the University of York ventured the opinion that the church most closely answering her description was St.\u00a0 <\/span>Mary\u2019s Castlegate – except for the fact that the church didn\u2019t have a crypt.\u201d \u201cI\u2019ve heard of that case,\u201d said a white-coated young woman in the back. \u201cThe BBC featured it in a special exploring the possibility of reincarnation.\u201d \u201cLeave it to the Beeb to waste good airtime on rubbish,\u201d said an intense, sharp-featured young man beside her. \u201cThey didn\u2019t take it seriously, did they?\u201d \u201cActually, they concluded that the evidence was inconclusive,\u201d his classmate allowed. \u201cSix months later, however, a workman doing some renovation work on the church accidentally broke through into a previously unknown chamber that might well have been a medieval crypt.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI remember reading about that in the papers,\u201d said one of the social workers. \u00a0<\/span>\u201cDidn\u2019t the chamber, or crypt, or whatever it was, get bricked back up before any archaeologists could come and take a closer look?\u201d \u201cAn unfortunate bureaucratic glitch,\u201d Adam agreed, easing back into the exchange. \u201cPerhaps one day, that part of the investigation will be completed. \u00a0<\/span>Nonetheless, the circumstantial evidence would still seem to suggest that Jane Evans, through \u2018Rebecca,\u2019 had access to historical information unknown to present-day authorities.\u201d<\/p>\n

One of the students in the front row was tapping her pen against her front teeth. \u201cWasn\u2019t there also an American psychiatrist from Virginia who did a lot of work on spontaneous past-life regressions in very young children?\u201d she asked.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThat\u2019s right,\u201d Adam said. \u201cHis name is Dr. Ian Stevenson. His most celebrated case involved a five-year-old Lebanese boy whose people claimed he was the reincarnation of a man called Ibrahim, who had died recently in a neighboring town. When Stevenson examined the boy, he found that the child possessed an inexplicably intimate knowledge of Ibrahim\u2019s personal life, besides exhibiting certain behavioral traits which Ibrahim\u2019s surviving family swore were consistent with those of their deceased relative. Stevenson later published this and other findings under the title Twenty Cases Suggestive of Reincarnation.\u201d \u201cWhat a load of bunk!\u201d exclaimed one of the students in the front row. \u201cHow can he call himself a serious scientist?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI assure you that Stevenson did not use the term lightly,\u201d Adam said mildly. \u00a0<\/span>\u201cIn his estimation, the evidence was strong enough to constitute a case for speculation, at very least.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cEvidence for reincarnation\u2026 ,\u201d another of his students mused. \u201cIs that what you\u2019re looking for when you attempt to do past-life regressions with your own patients?\u201d she asked bluntly.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat I\u2019m looking for,\u201d Adam said with a droll smile, \u201cis information that will help me arrive at an effective diagnosis. If the unconscious can allow me access to vital information by couching it in terms of past-life experiences that have bearing on the patient\u2019s present problems, then it behooves me, as a physician, to treat \u2018memories\u2019 of these past-life experiences as if they were real, and to deal with the patient accordingly. I think that no one would argue that experiences of the mind are any less \u2018real\u2019 than experiences of the physical body. Indeed, in some cases, they can be more vivid, as in the instance of phantom limb pain, long after an amputation.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut that\u2019s a physiological reaction of damaged nerve-ways,\u201d a young man objected.<\/p>\n

\u201cIn part, perhaps,\u201d Adam agreed. \u201cBut who is to say exactly where the lines are drawn between body, mind, and spirit?\u201d<\/p>\n

A striking brunette in the front row rolled her eyes and put down her pen.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI knew it was only a matter of time before someone came up with one of the V words,\u201d she muttered, then glanced at the woman deacon in friendly challenge. \u00a0<\/span>\u201cLorna, care to tell us what the God Squad has to say about spirit, or soul, and the matter of reincarnation?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCertainly,\u201d Lorna replied, \u201cthough I\u2019m not certain I have any answers. Would you prefer an Eastern or a Western bias?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPerhaps you might share both points of view,\u201d Adam said.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cVery well.\u201d As all eyes flicked briefly from Lorna to Adam and back again, she settled herself composedly in her chair, collecting her thoughts. Her very name, Lorna Liu, proclaimed her mixed Scottish and Asian heritage, and her appearance combined the most graceful attributes of both, enhanced by the clerical collar she wore with her conservative grey suit.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019d be less than honest if I said I wasn\u2019t impressed with the way the case for reincarnation is being argued,\u201d she said amiably, \u201cbut I think it\u2019s time that someone pointed out that the question is not so much a scientific issue as a theological one. Let\u2019s take Buddhism and Christianity, since those are my background. While the two theologies have many views in common, especially with regard to ethics and morality, they differ rather drastically in their respective concepts of personal salvation.\u201d<\/p>\n

Seeing that she had the attention of the rest of the room, she went on in the same reflective tone.<\/p>\n

\u201cBuddhists believe that the whole material world is nothing but mere illusion – maya – and can only be transcended in most cases at the cost of repeated lifetimes spent in pursuit of personal enlightenment. Sometimes this is visualized as a wheel, escape from which becomes the goal of the enlightened individual.<\/p>\n

\u201cChristians, by contrast, believe that matter and spirit are inextricably bound together as a consequence of divine creation, and are likewise simultaneously eligible for redemption – not through some long-drawn refining process of repeated existences, but as a direct consequence of divine atonement through the sacrificial death and resurrection of Christ, the God Incarnate. As a Christian, I must confess I see no logical way of bridging the gap between my religious convictions and the concept of reincarnation as a fact of existence. If anyone else can suggest a means of resolution, I would be very grateful to hear what he or she might have to say.\u201d<\/p>\n

Thoughtful silence settled for a few seconds as the rest of the group wrestled with the problem, after which the bespectacled Mr. Huntley said bluntly, \u201cI don\u2019t see how there can be a resolution. One point of view or the other has got to be wrong.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf not both,\u201d said the retired lecturer with a touch of skepticism. As all eyes turned to him, he added, \u201cI admit quite freely to being an agnostic, Dr. \u00a0<\/span>Sinclair. But whether or not there\u2019s a spiritual dimension to our existence, I find the notion of reincarnation messy and illogical. Where, for example, do souls get stored when they\u2019re not in use? When a given soul attains enlightenment and escapes from the wheel, is another soul immediately created to take its place? If so, who or what determines whether a newly conceived infant receives a virgin soul or one that has been around for a while? If not, will we one day run into a shortage of souls? Do souls get recycled more quickly when there\u2019s a population explosion, as there is at the moment?\u201d He broke off with an ironic gesture of disclaimer.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe not everyone gets reincarnated,\u201d a new voice said thoughtfully. \u201cMaybe it only happens in special cases.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam glanced toward the speaker and raised an eyebrow. Avril Peterson\u2019s academic standing might not be the highest in her class, but this was not the first time he had seen her display a flash of intuitive insight.<\/p>\n

\u201cMs. Peterson, I do believe you may have offered us a possible solution to this theological paradox,\u201d he said, his smile warming. Transferring his attention to the group at large, he went on to elucidate.<\/p>\n

\u201cAllow me to acquaint you with a possible key to be found in Judaic tradition associated with the Qabalah, which is a body of Jewish mystical doctrine. A very learned friend of mine who is a scholar in such matters once confided to me that a true knowledge of the inner meaning of the Qabalah was not to be acquired through the study of books, but rather through the agency of special ministers whose sacred office it was to transmit \u2018the teaching\u2019 from one generation to the next. According to apocalyptic Hebrew legend, mankind was first instructed in the Qabalah by the archangel Metratron, who is legendarily identified as the transfigured Enoch – the man who, according to Genesis, \u2018walked with God\u2019 and did not taste death. Metratron is said to have subsequently manifested himself throughout history as various great teachers, including Melchizedek, the priest-king whose encounter with Abraham foreshadows the Eucharist, because he offered bread and wine.<\/p>\n

\u201cBy more conventional reckoning,\u201d Adam went on, \u201cwe might regard Metratron as an <\/p>\n

archetypal figure – a symbol, if you like, of all others of his kind. There\u2019s a <\/p>\n

rather fascinating passage at the beginning of the sixth chapter of Genesis <\/p>\n

which speaks of there being intercourse between \u2018giants\u2019 – a tantalizing <\/p>\n

reference to beings apparently inferior to God, but superior to humankind – and <\/p>\n

the \u2018daughters of men.\u2019 The children born of these liaisons are described by the King James Bible as mighty men which were of old, men of renown.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cIf we accept that such legends, along with myths and the contents of certain dreams, are expressive of nonempirical truths – truths known to the psyche, but inaccessible by empirical means – then it becomes feasible to consider as a possible vehicle of truth Ms. Peterson\u2019s notion that reincarnation is confined to a selected handful of individuals recruited by the angels and thereafter entrusted with the task of imparting sacred knowledge, generation after generation.<\/p>\n

\u201cThese individuals thus become bearers of the divine light of truth, in the Promethean sense,\u201d he concluded, \u201cbut the lifetime experiences for such individuals might well be likened to the projections thrown off through the apertures of a magic lantern – emanations of light manifested in different places, but derived from the same common source. What is withdrawn at the death of the physical body is the projection, rather than the essence. The light itself continues to burn undiminished, until another aperture opens in the fabric of time.\u201d<\/p>\n

His audience had been listening with rapt fascination, caught up in the near hypnotic intensity for which Dr. Adam Sinclair was famous, and now the old lecturer nodded grudging approval.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou appear to have thought the matter through very thoroughly, Dr. Sinclair,\u201d he admitted. \u201cAre we to take it then, that you personally subscribe to the belief you\u2019ve just outlined in such poetic terms?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou may take it,\u201d Adam said lightly, \u201cthat we have come as close as we can to providing Ms. Liu with the theological resolution she was seeking. Speaking more clinically, from the standpoint of a psychotherapist, I would say that whatever we may personally come to believe about the nature of past-life regressions, when we encounter such regressions in our patients, it behooves everyone concerned to treat such memories as a valid aspect of the patients\u2019 total experience.\u201d<\/p>\n

He would have continued but for a rap at the lecture room door. He glanced in that direction as the door opened and one of the hospital administrators poked his head around the door frame.<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry to interrupt your lecture, Dr. Sinclair, but I have a telephone message for you. They said it was rather urgent.\u201d<\/p>\n

Coming forward, he handed Adam a folded piece of hospital memo paper. Inside, written in a neat secretarial hand, was a single sentence: Sir Adam: Humphrey requests that you phone home immediately.<\/p>\n

Conscious of a sudden feeling of foreboding, Adam consulted his pocket watch, then directed his attention back to his class as he stood.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cMy apologies, but it seems I\u2019m going to be obliged to cut this lecture short,\u201d he said smoothly, pocketing watch and note. \u201cPlease feel free to carry on in my absence, but we\u2019ll plan to resume the discussion next time.\u201d Five minutes later, seated behind the desk in his office, he was listening soberly as Humphrey, his butler and personal valet, relayed the news about Nathan Fiennes.<\/p>\n

\u201cMrs. Fiennes said that emergency surgery was performed during the night to alleviate pressure on the brain, but his condition is deteriorating,\u201d Humphrey concluded. \u201cApparently he asked for you immediately after the attack. Mrs. \u00a0<\/span>Fiennes was quite agitated that you should come, if at all possible.\u201d The account, as it unfolded, struck Adam as oddly coincidental, for though he had not thought about his old mentor in some time, it had been Nathan to whom he was referring when he spoke of the Qabalah during his interrupted lecture. He had to wonder whether the old man\u2019s worsening condition, coupled with his specific request for Adam\u2019s presence, perhaps partially explained why Adam should have been thinking about Nathan only minutes before.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThank you for relaying that, Humphrey,\u201d Adam said, when Humphrey had finished. \u00a0<\/span>\u201cI\u2019ll go, of course. I don\u2019t suppose you had time to check with the airlines to see what flights are available?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAs a matter of fact, I did, sir. Air UK has a four-fifteen flight into Leeds-Bradford, which is the airport nearest to York itself. There were still seats available ten minutes ago. Shall I book you one, sir?\u201d \u201cYes, do that, please,\u201d Adam said. \u201cOn second thought, book two seats. If Inspector McLeod can get away, I\u2019m going to ask him to accompany me. Since there\u2019s a police aspect to this, it may be that he can facilitate interface with the Yorkshire constabulary.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cVery good, sir. Shall I pack you an overnight bag and meet you at the airport?\u201d Adam glanced at his gold pocket watch and grimaced. \u201cGood idea. It\u2019s going to be tight to make that flight. See you when I get there, Humphrey.\u201d His next phone call was to the Fiennes residence in York, but there was no response. After the seventh ring, Adam abandoned the attempt and dialled the number assigned to police headquarters in Edinburgh.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cGood afternoon. Sir Adam Sinclair calling. Please put me through to Detective Chief Inspector Noel McLeod.\u201d<\/p>\n

He did not often invoke his title, but as usual, it got him the desired result.<\/p>\n

\u201cHello, Adam. What can I do for you?\u201d came a gruff, familiar voice.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHello, Noel. I\u2019ve had something rather unusual come up,\u201d Adam said. \u201cAre you busy?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot unless you count the usual backlog of paperwork,\u201d<\/p>\n

McLeod replied. \u201cGiven half an excuse, I\u2019d gladly play hooky for the rest of the afternoon.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow about a whole excuse, and play hooky tomorrow too?\u201d Adam replied. \u201cI\u2019m afraid that what I have to offer is hardly in the nature of a pleasant diversion, but it is police business, and it isn\u2019t behind a desk. How good are your contacts down in York?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam heard the muffled squeak of chair springs as McLeod pulled himself upright. <\/p>\n

\u201cWhat\u2019s happened?\u201d<\/p>\n

Briefly Adam outlined the situation as Humphrey had relayed it to him.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cNathan Fiennes is an old and dear friend,\u201d he concluded. \u201cI read philosophy with him when I was down at Cambridge, and we\u2019ve maintained the friendship ever since. I would have been happy to go to him in any case, but the fact that he\u2019s asked for me in particular suggests that there may be more to this situation than meets the eye. Your assistance would be welcome on a number of fronts.\u201d \u201cShouldn\u2019t be too difficult,\u201d McLeod replied. \u201cIf all else fails, I\u2019ve got some personal leave time coming to me. When were you planning on leaving?\u201d \u201cI\u2019ve had Humphrey book seats for us on the four-fifteen flight to Leeds,\u201d Adam said. \u201cI realize that\u2019s cutting things a bit fine at your end, but the alternative is to drive, which wouldn\u2019t put us in much before midnight. I\u2019m not sure Nathan has that much time.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t worry about me,\u201d McLeod said sturdily. \u201cHow do you want to handle this, logistic-wise?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy don\u2019t I meet you there at your office in about half an hour?\u201d Adam said. \u00a0<\/span>\u201cHumphrey will be at the airport ahead of us to pick up the tickets. I drove the Jag in this morning, so I\u2019d rather leave it in the police car park than here, if it\u2019s going to sit for a few days. If you don\u2019t mind, we can take your car from there, and swing by your house on the way to the airport to collect your kit.\u201d \u201cAye, that ought to streamline, things a bit,\u201d McLeod agreed. \u201cI\u2019ll call Jane and have her pack me a bag. See you when you get here.\u201d Several more phone calls handled the arrangements to cover Adam\u2019s duties at the hospital for the next few days. Then he put a call through to York District Hospital.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, Dr. Adam Sinclair calling with regard to a patient named Fiennes. He would have been admitted last night for emergency surgery. I expect he\u2019s in ICU.\u201d After several transfers of his call, Adam found himself speaking to one of the on-call physicians in intensive care.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m afraid the professor\u2019s prognosis is very poor, Dr. Sinclair,\u201d the woman concluded. \u201cHe was still conscious when he came in last night, but a hematoma developed during the night and we had to go in to relieve it. Unfortunately, he hasn\u2019t regained consciousness since the surgery. I wish I could say there was much hope that he will.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI see,\u201d Adam said. \u201cI don\u2019t suppose Mrs. Fiennes is there in the ICU, by any chance?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I don\u2019t see her – though I\u2019m sure she hasn\u2019t gone far. I think her son finally persuaded her to go down to the hospital cafe for a cup of coffee. She\u2019s been here all night, and he came in first thing this morning. Shall I have one of them return your call when they come back?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, I\u2019ll be on my way to the airport by then,\u201d Adam said. \u201cJust tell Mrs. \u00a0<\/span>Fiennes that I\u2019ve received her message and that I expect to be joining her there at the hospital in a couple of hours. Will you do that? Thank you very much.\u201d<\/p>\n

chapter two<\/p>\n

ADAM made the drive across town to police headquarters in a mood of somber reflection, skirting west of the castle mound and into Princes Street, then winding up around Charlotte Square and on along Queensferry Road. He could not escape the growing conviction that something beyond a mere burglary and assault lay at the root of what was now unfolding.<\/p>\n

The headquarters complex for the Lothian and Borders Police Department was a multistorey confection of glass and steel, bristling with radio antennae on its roofs and set back from Fettes Avenue, northwest of the city center. Pulling around into the visitors\u2019 car park, within sight of McLeod\u2019s black BMW, Adam parked and locked the dark blue Jaguar and headed for the main entrance. One of the officers on duty at the desk recognized him and waved him on through, rather than asking him to wait for an escort to come down and fetch him, and he made his way purposefully up a back stair. As he headed through the large open-plan office toward McLeod\u2019s door, which was ajar, he nodded recognition to several officers working there. He could hear McLeod\u2019s voice through the gap as he approached.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, thanks, Walter. That\u2019s all I can think of at the moment. Right. We\u2019ll talk again when I get there. In the meantime, thanks for all your trouble.\u201d There followed the click of a telephone receiver being returned to its cradle, just before Adam gave a light rap at the door to announce his presence.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cEnter!\u201d McLeod called.<\/p>\n

Adam pushed the door open. McLeod was at his desk, gold-rimmed aviator spectacles pushed up on his forehead and his tie askew, looking like a man in no mood to welcome interruptions. As soon as he caught sight of Adam, however, his expression eased to a grin of welcome, the wiry grey moustache bristling above a glint of white teeth.<\/p>\n

\u201cHullo, Adam. Sorry about the bark. I thought for a moment it was one of my confounded juniors determined to bollix things up at the last minute.\u201d \u201cI take it, then, that you\u2019re free and clear?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAt least for the rest of today and tomorrow,\u201d McLeod said with a grim nod, getting to his feet and reaching for his coat. \u201cI\u2019ve just been on the phone to a colleague down in York, who\u2019s going to find out what he can. Someone will meet us when we arrive. On the surface, at least, it appears to have been a professional job: household alarm effectively disabled – safe opened, not blown – no identifiable prints left anywhere, other than those of the victim and his wife. There were two perpetrators, but they were wearing balaclava masks and surgical gloves. York Police are still interviewing possible witnesses in the neighborhood, but they haven\u2019t got any leads. It doesn\u2019t look very hopeful at present.\u201d<\/p>\n

As he did up his tie, a fresh-faced young man in civilian clothes appeared in the doorway – Donald Cochrane, one of McLeod\u2019s most able assistants, recently promoted to the rank of detective.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, there you are, Donald,\u201d McLeod said. \u201cDid you finally get through?\u201d Cochrane grinned, just missing a salute. \u201cYes, sir. Mrs. McLeod apologizes for tying up the phone, and will have a bag waiting for you by the time you get there. Anything else you\u2019d like me to do?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan\u2019t think of anything,\u201d McLeod replied. \u201cYou have the con till I get back. \u00a0<\/span>Keep things ticking over smoothly, will you? I don\u2019t want to come home to find half a dozen crises on my desk.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye, sir,\u201d Cochrane returned with a grin. \u201cSee you in a couple of days.\u201d On the way out to McLeod\u2019s house in Ormidale Terrace, Adam gave the inspector a concise briefing on Nathan Fiennes\u2019 medical condition.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cNo wonder Walter and his lads are frantic, down in York,\u201d McLeod said when Adam had finished. \u201cA burglary with assault is bad enough, but if the case gets compounded with a murder charge, they\u2019re really going to have their work cut out for them.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIf the charges extend to murder,\u201d Adam said grimly, \u201cthe perpetrators are going to have more than the Yorkshire police to contend with.\u201d They picked up McLeod\u2019s bag and made it to the airport in time to rendezvous with Humphrey a good twenty minutes before flight time. The intrepid Humphrey had already checked them in, and handed over tickets and boarding cards along with Adam\u2019s overnight bag before bidding them farewell. The flight itself was uneventful, touching down at Leeds-Bradford within a minute or two of its appointed arrival time.<\/p>\n

With only carry-on luggage, Adam and McLeod disembarked along with the rest of the passengers and made their way into the arrivals lounge. Here they were intercepted by a short, wiry individual in a dapper three-piece tweed suit and sunglasses. McLeod\u2019s look of intense scrutiny transformed immediately into a grin of recognition.<\/p>\n

\u201cHello, Walter!\u201d he exclaimed. \u201cI didn\u2019t expect you\u2019d come in person.\u201d<\/p>\n

His associate shrugged and smiled.<\/p>\n

\u201cI figured I might as well, and save time all around. My driver\u2019s waiting outside in the car. We can talk on the way back to York. Do you have any luggage?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo, just what we\u2019re carrying,\u201d McLeod replied. \u201cWalter, I\u2019d like you to meet Sir Adam Sinclair, special psychiatric consultant for Lothian and Borders Police. As I mentioned earlier on the phone, he\u2019s a longtime close friend of Nathan Fiennes, and Fiennes apparently asked his wife to call Adam, right after the assault. Adam, this is Superintendent Walter Phipps, whose men are following up on the investigation.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m grateful for any assistance you and your men can render, Superintendent,\u201d Adam said, taking stock of his new acquaintance as he and the Yorkshireman traded handshakes. Half a head shorter than McLeod, Phipps was lean and active-looking, with short-cropped fair hair and a crisp moustache, both lightly touched with hints of silver. Steady grey eyes returned Adam\u2019s gaze with shrewd regard, then crinkled slightly at the edges, as if their owner was favorably impressed by what he saw.<\/p>\n

\u201cYour reputation precedes you, Sir Adam,\u201d Phipps said with a tight-lipped smile. \u00a0<\/span>\u201cAnd please call me Walter, if you\u2019re a friend of Noel\u2019s. I seem to recall that you\u2019re the man Scotland Yard called in several years ago to construct a psychiatric profile of the man they eventually arrested as the so-called Scarborough Slasher. Nobody looks for a miracle like that to come along every day, but maybe you can come up with some leads in the present case – because I\u2019m afraid we haven\u2019t much to go on, so far.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll certainly do whatever I can,\u201d Adam promised, as they headed out to the curb and a waiting black Ford Granada. \u201cRight now, however, I\u2019d like to get to the hospital as soon as possible. I gather that Professor Fiennes\u2019 prospects are not good, and I\u2019d like at least to attempt to speak with him before time runs out.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I don\u2019t know how successful you\u2019re going to be in that,\u201d Phipps replied, opening the boot so McLeod and Adam could stash their bags. \u201cHe was still unconscious when I left York, three-quarters of an hour ago, though at least he was holding his own. It doesn\u2019t look good, though.\u201d He got into the front, next to the uniformed constable who was driving, and McLeod and Adam piled into the back.<\/p>\n

It was twenty-three miles back to York. On the way, Phipps briefed them on the essentials of the case to date. The police car pulled up at the main entrance to York District Hospital shortly before six o\u2019clock. As Adam prepared to get out, Phipps produced a business card from his breast pocket and scribbled some numbers on the back.<\/p>\n

\u201cI expect you\u2019ll want to be here for a while,\u201d Phipps said, handing the card to Adam. \u201cThis is the extension at my office, and the other one is my home number. \u00a0<\/span>Noel and I will pick up a bite to eat on the way to headquarters, but then we\u2019ll be at this number or thereabouts for the rest of the evening. If it gets too late, we may come to check on you. Incidentally, you\u2019re both welcome to stay at my place, if you haven\u2019t made other arrangements.\u201d \u201cThank you,\u201d Adam said with a nod. \u201cI\u2019m not sure sleep is in the cards for me tonight, but I\u2019ll try to give you a call later this evening, when I know more. \u00a0<\/span>See you later, Noel.\u201d<\/p>\n

Once inside the building, Adam made his way up to the intensive-care unit. The sister in charge of the ward greeted him with an air of reservation at first, but her manner thawed at once when he produced one of his business cards listing his credentials.<\/p>\n

He skimmed over Nathan\u2019s chart with growing dismay, returning it with a word of thanks. He was just turning to go into the ICU when a tenor voice hailed him from farther up the corridor.<\/p>\n

\u201cIs that Sir Adam Sinclair? Oh, thank God you\u2019re here!\u201d The speaker was Nathan\u2019s elder son, Peter, a muscular, dark young man in his mid-thirties, wearing an impeccably cut grey pin-striped suit and round horn-rimmed glasses that made him look studious. After graduating with a first-class law degree from Oxford, Peter Fiennes had gone to work for one of the most prestigious corporation legal firms in London and quickly earned his barrister\u2019s credentials. Recent rumor had it that he soon would take silk as a Queen\u2019s Counsel. At the moment, however, little in his manner suggested the cool, levelheaded barrister. Instead, he looked tense and grief-stricken and far younger than he was – a man already in mourning for a father whose grasp on life was growing weaker with every passing hour.<\/p>\n

He hurried forward to clasp the hand that Adam held out to him, allowing himself to be drawn briefly into an embrace of commiseration. Feeling the tremor in the younger man\u2019s shoulders and hand, Adam said quietly, as they drew apart, \u201cPeter, I can\u2019t tell you how sorry I am that this should have happened. Naturally, I came as quickly as I could. How\u2019s your mother holding up?\u201d Peter shrugged and shook his head. \u201cShe\u2019s exhausted; I don\u2019t think she\u2019s gotten more than an hour or two of sleep while Dad was in surgery early this morning. \u00a0<\/span>He\u2019s always meant the world to her. Right now, all she can think about is that she\u2019s losing him. And there doesn\u2019t seem to be anything anyone can do about it.\u201d \u201cPeter, I\u2019m so sorry,\u201d Adam repeated. \u201cHow about your brother? Have you gotten through to him?\u201d<\/p>\n

Peter nodded. \u201cHe\u2019ll be in in a few hours. He\u2019s flying in from Tel Aviv. The orchestra\u2019s getting ready to go on tour, but they drafted the second flute to move up to first. She\u2019s thrilled at the chance, but sorry for the circumstances, of course – a really nice girl. I hope Larry marries her. Anyway, that means that he\u2019ll be able stay as long as – as he has to.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAs will I,\u201d Adam said quietly. \u201cAs long as I\u2019m needed. Where\u2019s your mother just now?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKeeping watch over Dad,\u201d Peter said, gesturing with his chin toward the glass-windowed double doors. \u201cShe\u2019s hardly left his side since he came back from surgery. Come with me and I\u2019ll take you to her.\u201d<\/p>\n

The intensive-care unit, like most facilities of its type, was a gleaming, antiseptic wilderness of light-panels, consoles, and life-support installations. \u00a0<\/span>Several of the other patients confined there had relatives in attendance, in addition to physicians and nurses circulating among them, and the big room breathed with the susurrant murmur of lowered voices above the hum and ping of the electrical equipment. Adam and Peter drew one or two token glances as they entered from the corridor, for both were striking-looking men, in different ways, but it was clear that the other visitors present were too wrapped up in their own concerns to pay much heed to what was going on elsewhere in the unit.\u00a0 <\/span>Nathan Fiennes occupied the bed farthest to the left of the room, his supine, white-draped body wired up to a battery of monitors. His face beneath the alien white skullcap of surgical bandages was grey and braised-looking, more like the face of an effigy than that of a living man. As Adam drew closer, he could hear the older man\u2019s breath whistling as it sawed in and out between slack, dry lips. \u00a0<\/span>A nasal oxygen tube of transparent greenish plastic snaked back over his head to disappear among the orderly tangle of other tubes and wires. Even without a knowledge of what was recorded on Nathan\u2019s medical chart, Adam would have known at a glance that his old friend was not likely to recover from his injuries.\u00a0 <\/span>Rachel Fiennes was slumped exhaustedly in a chair between her husband\u2019s bed and the next, which was empty, her back to the doorway. Her head was bowed, either dozing or praying, but even from across the room, Adam could see the tension in the lines of her body as she clung fast to one of her husband\u2019s slack hands. His other hand, confined by a cuff, was connected to an I.V. drip. Together they made a study in tragedy.<\/p>\n

Shaking his head sorrowfully, Peter Fiennes went up to his mother and laid a hand lightly on her shoulder. When she started up, he soothed her with a pat and said gently, \u201cIt\u2019s all right. Mother. Sir Adam\u2019s here – just as Dad wanted.\u201d Rachel Fiennes\u2019 haggard gaze flew beyond her son to the tall, dark figure standing a few feet behind him, at the foot of her husband\u2019s bed, and a tremulous smile touched her lips.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam,\u201d she breathed softly. \u201cThank you so much for coming.\u201d \u201cI only wish it were under happier circumstances,\u201d Adam said quietly. \u201cI\u2019m not sure why Nathan asked for me in particular, but now that I\u2019m here, I hope I can be of some service.\u201d<\/p>\n

Wordlessly Peter Fiennes brought up a chair for Adam beside his mother, then took another for himself on the other side of the bed, facing them. As Adam settled beside Rachel, she reached out to take one of Adam\u2019s hands with her free one.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t tell you how relieved I am that you\u2019re here, Adam,\u201d she whispered. \u201cIf only you knew how guilty I\u2019ve been feeling.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGuilty?\u201d Adam said. \u201cWhatever for?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFor not telephoning you sooner,\u201d she replied. \u201cNathan wanted me to call you last night. Right after the incident, before he lost consciousness, he made me promise to call you at once. I gave him my word, fully intending to do as he wished, but I could see he was desperately in need of medical attention. My first call was to summon an ambulance and the police, and after that – \u201c She made a helpless gesture.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou were doing your best to save your husband\u2019s life,\u201d Adam said quietly. \u201cYou were entirely right to regard everything else as secondary.\u201d \u201cNo, I don\u2019t think you understand,\u201d Rachel insisted. \u201cThe thieves, whoever they were, took the Seal – the one that\u2019s been in Nathan\u2019s family for goodness knows how many generations. You know the piece I\u2019m talking about?\u201d \u201cNot the one he used to refer to as the Solomon Seal?\u201d Adam said, seeing it in memory and suddenly flashing on a twinge of greater uneasiness.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYes, that\u2019s the one. I\u2019m sure he must have shown it to you.\u201d Adam nodded. \u201cHe did – but that was many years ago. It certainly was very old – though I wouldn\u2019t know about it having been Solomon\u2019s Seal.\u201d \u201cI don\u2019t know that either,\u201d Rachel said. \u201cI think it was more than just old, though. I do know that research surrounding it had occupied a great deal of his time and energy, these last few years. And just before he passed out, he said – he said, \u2018Things about the Seal you don\u2019t know – dangerous things. It\u2019s got to be recovered, at all cost. Call Sir Adam Sinclair and tell him what\u2019s happened\u2026.\u201d\u2019<\/p>\n

\u201cIndeed,\u201d Adam said, cocking his head. \u201cDo you know what he was talking about, saying there were dangerous things about the Seal?\u201d She shook her head.<\/p>\n

\u201cI see. Tell me this, then. Do you think the thieves were after the Seal in particular?\u201d<\/p>\n

Rachel shook her head again. \u201cI don\u2019t know,\u201d she said tersely. \u201cIf they were, they didn\u2019t hesitate to take all my jewellery as well. And they would have been welcome to every gaudy scrap of it, if only they\u2019d left me my Nathan, safe and sound!\u201d<\/p>\n

As tears welled up and she stifled a sob, releasing his hand to wipe at her eyes with the back of her hand, Adam took a fresh handkerchief of monogrammed linen from the breast pocket of his suit coat and offered it to her. She nodded her thanks and dabbed at her wet cheeks, sniffling miserably, and Adam exchanged a sympathetic glance with Peter.<\/p>\n

\u201cRachel, from what you\u2019ve told me,\u201d Adam said, \u201cit\u2019s obvious that the Seal has acquired a far greater importance of late than it had all those years ago – or at least Nathan had become aware of a greater importance.\u201d As she nodded, he went on.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe fact that Nathan asked for me, in conjunction with his worry about the Seal\u2019s theft, also suggests that he intended me to devote my attention specifically to the problem of locating and recovering it before any harm can result from its theft. I have no idea what kind of harm that might be, but I\u2019ll certainly do my best to find out and to carry out his wishes. Tell me: Besides myself, how many people outside the family would have known about the existence of the Seal?\u201d<\/p>\n

Rachel gave him a blank look and turned to her son for inspiration. Shaking his head, Peter gave a helpless shrug.<\/p>\n

\u201cI suppose that any number of people might have known something about it,\u201d he said. \u201cDad\u2019s never been a particularly secretive man. If you\u2019re talking about anyone having specific knowledge – \u201c \u201cHow about recent and specific knowledge,\u201d Adam prompted, \u201cperhaps in the last year or so?\u201d<\/p>\n

Peter grimaced and sighed. \u201cI suppose I ought to give you some recent background first, then,\u201d he said. \u201cSince Dad showed you the Seal, he probably also told you that it\u2019s always been something of a family mystery. When I was little, my grandfather used to tell me stories about how the Seal used to belong to the royal house of Israel, and how it had the power to stamp out evil spirits. You know the kinds of tales that grown-ups sometimes tell kids, to embellish.\u201d Adam nodded, his face impassive, but the mention of evil spirits had triggered a new apprehension.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnyway,\u201d Peter went on, \u201cover the years, Dad had been trying to find out more about the Seal – probably sparked by the tales his grandfather had told him when he was a boy. It started out as a kind of academic game, I think – and you know how tenacious he can be when he gets his teeth into a research project – but a new factor entered the equation about eighteen months ago.\u201d \u201cWhat happened eighteen months ago?\u201d Adam asked.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cWell, Grandfather Benjamin died. It wasn\u2019t unexpected – he was eighty-seven, and he went in his sleep, like that.\u201d He snapped his fingers.\u201dAfter the funeral, Dad went up to the old house in Perth to clear away the last of Grandfather\u2019s personal effects. While he was about it, he came across a whole chest full of old family papers stored in the attic. Among them was a really battered old parchment document. It was badly yellowed, and the writing was faded brown with age, practically illegible, but Dad was able to make out enough to tell that it was in Latin, and seemed to refer to a seal of some kind.\u201d \u201cThe Solomon Seal?\u201d Adam asked.<\/p>\n

\u201cSo he believed. The possibility was enough to make him drop everything and head across to St. Andrews University to see if anyone in the medieval history department could decipher it for him. The document turned out to be a promissory note for a bronze seal pledged in pawn to one Reuben Fennes of Perth, by somebody named James Graeme, dated 1381!\u201d<\/p>\n

He directed an inquiring look at Adam, as if inviting comment, but Adam only shook his head.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is all news to me,\u201d he said. \u201cI gather, by your expectation, that the Seal had been pawned for a substantial sum.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll say,\u201d Peter replied. \u201cIt was practically a duke\u2019s ransom. The figure cited was so extraordinary that Dad was keen to find out who this James Graeme might have been, and why the Seal should have been worth that much money to our distant forebear.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd did he?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat, I don\u2019t know,\u201d Peter said. \u201cIt was about that time, however, that he started seriously ferreting through all manner of medieval archives, not only in the U.K. but also on the Continent. It got to be quite an operation. I\u2019m sure he must have used research assistants to help him sift through some of the documentary material. Isn\u2019t that right, Mother?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, yes,\u201d Rachel agreed. \u201cThere have been several dozen, over the years. He loved to involve his students in his work.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam smiled. \u201cI can attest to that. Tell me, do you suppose you might be able to draw up a list for me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDear me, you don\u2019t think – \u201c<\/p>\n

\u201cUnfortunately, it\u2019s far too soon to tell you what I think,\u201d Adam said easily. <\/p>\n

\u201cA list of people who know about the Seal is a good place to start, though. <\/p>\n

Peter, do you think you might be able to give your mother a hand?\u201d Peter shook his head. \u201cI don\u2019t have any direct knowledge, Adam, but maybe Dad\u2019s personal notes would give us some clues. They should be locked up in his desk at home, shouldn\u2019t they, Mother?\u201d<\/p>\n

Rachel\u2019s face brightened. \u201cYes, of course,\u201d she said. \u201cAnd fortunately, the thieves didn\u2019t tamper with the desk.\u201d<\/p>\n

She might have said more, but at that moment, the injured man in the bed stirred and groaned aloud.<\/p>\n

chapter three<\/p>\n

INSTANTLY attentive, Adam and the others leaned in toward the bed. Nathan Fiennes stirred again. His bruised eyelids fluttered, then opened a painful chink, the gaze wandering unfocused.<\/p>\n

\u201cRachel?\u201d he muttered hoarsely.<\/p>\n

Suppressing a small sob, his wife bent down and clasped his hand more closely. \u00a0<\/span>\u201cI\u2019m right here, Nathan. So is Peter. Larry\u2019s going to be arriving shortly. And Adam – Adam Sinclair. You asked me to call him.\u201d A crooked smile touched the injured man\u2019s bluish lips. \u201cAll here,\u201d he mumbled drowsily. \u201cThat\u2019s good. Always nice when the boys come home for the holidays\u2026.\u201d Rachel directed a wordless look of dismay toward Adam, who said softly, \u201cThis is not unexpected, I\u2019m afraid. It\u2019s very common in the case of head injuries for the patient\u2019s memory to wander.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIs there anything you can do to help him focus?\u201d Peter asked. \u201cHe was so adamant that Mother call you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Considering, Adam gave a cautious nod. \u201cIt\u2019s just possible that he might respond to hypnosis, that he\u2019s at least partially aware of his surroundings.\u201d \u201cYes, but would it work in a case like this?\u201d Peter wondered. \u201cThe surgeon says there\u2019s been localized brain damage.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLet me answer your question with yet another question,\u201d Adam said. \u201cDo you believe that your father has an immortal soul?\u201d<\/p>\n

The query brought Peter up short. He gave a blink, then said, \u201cYes. Yes, I do.\u201d \u201cThen believe me,\u201d said Adam, \u201cwhen I tell you that the\u00a0 <\/span>true seat of memory lies there, in the realm of the spirit, not in the perishable physiochemical structures of the brain.\u201d<\/p>\n

Even as he spoke, the man in the bed heaved a heavy sigh.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cSure hope this flu passes off soon,\u201d he murmured, his head moving restlessly from side to side. \u201cPromised the boys we\u2019d drive up to Perth\u2026 all go camping\u2026.\u201d Rachel lifted her head, her expression one of anguished tenderness. \u201cHe\u2019s talking about an incident that happened nearly twenty years ago,\u201d she said softly. \u201cYou remember, don\u2019t you, Peter?\u201d<\/p>\n

Her son nodded without speaking.<\/p>\n

\u201cThose were happy times,\u201d Rachel said, her voice quivering on the edge of a break. \u201cHe\u2019s there now, in memory. Do we have the right to call him back to the present – to the pain, and the realization that he\u2019s almost certainly dying?\u201d \u201cThat\u2019s your decision, of course,\u201d Adam said quietly. \u201cBut given the apparent urgency of his request that I should come, I\u2019d like to at least try to question him. I promise you that nothing I intend will harm your husband in any way, either physically or spiritually. Indeed, it may even be possible to alleviate some of his pain, make him a bit more comfortable.\u201d There was a moment\u2019s silence, broken only by Nathan\u2019s labored murmurings as his mind wandered aimlessly about its chambers of memories. Then Rachel drew a deep breath and squared her shoulders with an air of decision, her hand tightening on her husband\u2019s.<\/p>\n

\u201cForgive me, Adam. I wasn\u2019t thinking of Nathan\u2019s wishes. He\u2019s always trusted you. You must do what you think best. Were I to interfere with this last confidence he wanted to impart to you, I would be less than true to the trust he and I have shared for most of a lifetime.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam smiled gently and patted her hand. \u201cThank you, Rachel. I know that was not an easy decision. Do you think you and Peter could give me a few minutes alone with him? This is going to require maximum concentration on my part, and the fewer distractions, the better.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI think a breath of fresh air might be exactly what Mother and I need,\u201d Peter said, getting to his feet. \u201cMaybe something to eat as well. Can we bring you anything, Adam? A cup of coffee, maybe? Tea?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam shook his head as he stood. \u201cNot just now, thank you. Give me twenty or thirty minutes, would you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course.\u201d<\/p>\n

As mother and son left the ICU together, arm in arm, Adam moved closer to the head of the bed and casually drew the curtain partway between Nathan\u2019s bed and the rest of the room, thus shielding them from casual observation by the family gathered two beds down around an unconscious older woman. Nathan was still vaguely conscious, if rambling, but there was no telling when he might lapse back into coma. Adam knew he had to act with dispatch or risk losing what might be his one and only chance to question Nathan and learn whatever it was that the old man wanted him to know.<\/p>\n

His action had drawn no untoward attention from the nurses tending patients at the other end of the room. After making an understated show of checking Nathan\u2019s pulse and glancing at the readings on the life-support monitors, he reached into the inside breast pocket of his suit coat and undipped a small, pencil-sized flashlight. For a quick trance induction, its beam would catch and hold Nathan\u2019s wandering attention far better than the usual, more indirect focus of his pocket watch, and also be less conspicuous.<\/p>\n

Leaning in close over the bed, he turned Nathan\u2019s face gently toward him and directed the light first at one pupil, then at the other, beginning a rhythmic oscillation between the two.<\/p>\n

\u201cNathan,\u201d he called softly. \u201cIt\u2019s Adam Sinclair. Listen to me, Nathan. Would you look at me, please?\u201d<\/p>\n

The injured man\u2019s distracted gaze slowly gravitated toward the light and the sound of Adam\u2019s voice. He blinked twice, then focused with an effort on the strong face beyond the moving light.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdam\u2026. It is you, isn\u2019t it?\u201d he mumbled with a fleeting attempt at a smile. <\/p>\n

\u201cAlways a pleasure to see you.<\/p>\n

My, but you\u2019re getting grey – but I suppose medical school does that to a man. <\/p>\n

What can I do for you?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNothing terribly difficult, Nathan. I\u2019ve come to help you.\u201d Adam\u2019s voice deepened slightly as he went on. \u201cI want you to relax. If you can manage it, I\u2019d very much like you to look at the light I\u2019m holding in my hand. Can you see it?\u201d He continued to move it back and forth, flashing it first in one eye, then the other.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s good. Just relax, my friend. Listen to my voice and follow the light. \u00a0<\/span>Back and forth\u2026 that\u2019s right. Relax. Listen to my voice and feel yourself starting to float. Very relaxed. That\u2019s good, Nathan. Tell me, how do you feel?\u201d Nathan\u2019s pale lips twitched, his eyelids stalling to droop as he continued to track the moving light.<\/p>\n

\u201cNo too well,\u201d he murmured. \u201cHead hurts damnably. Flu, I think\u2026.\u201d \u201cNo, it isn\u2019t flu,\u201d Adam said softly, his voice taking on a soothing, singsong lilt. \u201cBut I think we can do something about the discomfort. Imagine that the pain in your head is like a hat that\u2019s on too tight. Imagine yourself taking the hat off and putting it to one side. Once you\u2019ve taken it off, the pain will ease up and your mind will be clear. It will be like floating on a quiet pool – no noise, no trouble, only peace. Take off the hat, Nathan\u2026.\u201d He waited a moment, watching Nathan\u2019s taut face. After a few heartbeats, the trembling eyelids closed and the lines of pain and stress began to smooth out.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThat\u2019s good, Nathan,\u201d Adam murmured, switching off his light and returning it to his breast pocket. \u201cThe pain is gone. You\u2019re very relaxed. Tell me, are you floating now?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes\u2026 floating\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cVery good,\u201d Adam said. Dropping his voice till it was scarcely louder than a whisper, he said, \u201cNathan, I want you to picture something in your mind\u2019s eye – a familiar object. It\u2019s a bronze seal engraved with the star of Solomon. Can you see it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI knew you could. Nathan, there was something you wanted to tell me about this Seal, something you were having trouble remembering. I\u2019m taking hold of your wrist, and I\u2019m going to count backwards from five to one. When I reach the end of the count, I\u2019ll give your wrist a tap. At that moment, the clouds will lift from your memory and you\u2019ll be able to recall the message you wanted to convey to me. Are you ready? Five\u2026 four\u2026 three\u2026 two\u2026 one.\u201d He tapped Nathan\u2019s wrist lightly just below the base of his thumb. The old man did not respond at first, but then, all at once, his whole body stiffened. The eyes opened, but what they saw was not Adam or the room beyond.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cThe treasure of the Temple!\u201d he rasped hoarsely. \u201cThe Seal guards the secret. <\/p>\n

Adam, it has to be recovered, do you hear me? The Seal has to be recovered!\u201d Adam tightened his clasp reassuringly about the older man\u2019s wrist, his other hand brushing soothingly across the forehead. \u201cI hear you, Nathan, but I don\u2019t yet follow you. What does the Seal guard? What secret? What treasure? And what Temple?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSolomon\u2019s treasure,\u201d Nathan murmured, \u201cfrom the Temple in Jerusalem. The Seal came from there\u2026 part of a sacred trust. Great power and great danger\u2026 royal legacy of the House of David.\u201d<\/p>\n

Beneath his calm exterior, Adam\u2019s mind began to work furiously. What Nathan seemed to be hinting was that the missing Seal was, in fact, the legendary Seal of Solomon himself! Tradition had always ascribed to Solomon power and authority over evil spirits, and Adam found himself wondering if some measure of that controlling influence might have been vested in this Seal of which they were speaking. If that was so, there might well be some who would be willing to steal and even kill to obtain it.<\/p>\n

\u201cNathan, what was the purpose of the Seal?\u201d he asked softly. \u201cDo you know?\u201d \u201cIt was a key,\u201d Nathan whispered. \u201cA key to keep a deadly evil locked away from the rest of the world. But the Seal is only part of the secret. I think\u2026 the Knights knew\u2026. The Knights of the Temple knew\u2026.\u201d \u201cThe Knights of the Temple?\u201d Adam repeated. \u201cYou mean, the Knights Templar?\u201d Nathan drew a labored breath, nodding weakly. \u201cSo I believe. The Seal came in pledge\u2026. Pawned to my ancestor\u2026 1381\u2026 Graeme of Templegrange\u2026.\u201d The significance of the name was not lost on Adam. The appearance of the word \u201ctemple\u201d in many a Scottish place name generally indicated that the site had once been associated with the Knights of the Temple of Jerusalem. Indeed, the Templars figured prominently in Adam\u2019s own family history. The ruined tower of Templemor, now being restored on a hilltop overlooking Strathmourne Manor, had once been a Templar outpost.<\/p>\n

\u201cThen, you think the Templars guarded this secret?\u201d Adam asked.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI think so\u2026. Many connections,\u201d Nathan whispered, his breathing starting to quicken. \u201cI was getting so close\u2026. Try Dundee\u2026. Dundee may provide more of the answers\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nathan\u2019s voice broke on the last word, and his pulse suddenly gave an irregular, ominous flutter beneath Adam\u2019s fingers. In the same heartbeat, the gauges on the monitors beside him came alive with blips and warning lights as the old man\u2019s pulse rate soared. As if sensing that his body was nearing the limits of its endurance, Nathan made a struggling attempt to raise his head off his pillow.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cFind the Seal!\u201d he muttered hoarsely. \u201cStop those who stole it! The evil they can loose\u2026. Adam, you must stop them! Please, Adam, for the love of God\u2026.\u201d \u201cI understand, Nathan,\u201d Adam said in a tone of quiet authority, gently pressing him back against the pillows and trying to calm him. \u201cThat\u2019s enough for now. \u00a0<\/span>I\u2019ll do what must be done. You\u2019ve told me what I need to know. Stop fighting now and relax. Stop struggling and be at peace. This need not concern you any more.\u201d Under the influence of his voice and the stroke of a soothing hand across his brow, Nathan\u2019s agitation gradually subsided. His pulse rate slowed, though it remained very weak, and the monitor readings somewhat stabilized, but his condition clearly was deteriorating. Nathan had not much time, and Adam knew he must try to ready the way for the soul\u2019s passing.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re doing just fine now, Nathan,\u201d he continued softly, as nurses and an ICU physician converged on them and he fended them off with a glance and a shake of his head. \u201cLet go all thoughts of the Seal. Let go all thoughts of strife. Feel yourself floating without pain now on a tranquil stream. Feel the pull of a gentle current carrying you backwards in time. Somewhere in the past a safe haven is waiting to receive you – a place of gentleness and peace and joy. Find a moment of your own choosing, and say to that moment, Stay\u2026. And there abide in peace until the door opens into Light\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cLight\u2026 ,\u201d came Nathan\u2019s faint and unexpected whisper, hardly more than a sigh.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYes, Nathan,\u201d Adam murmured, heartened to have gotten any response at all, and suddenly aware what final thing he still might do, that would mean much to his old friend. \u201cThe Light will embrace you and hold you safe. Listen to me now, and try to repeat what I say. This is very important. You taught me yourself. If you can\u2019t speak the words, then offer them up in the temple of your own heart. Shema Yisrael.\u201d<\/p>\n

Nathan\u2019s eyelids fluttered, and his hand tightened slightly in Adam\u2019s.<\/p>\n

\u201cShema\u2026 Yisrael\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAdonai Elohenu.<\/p>\n

\u201cAdonai Elohenu\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAdonai Echad.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAdonai . . . Echad. \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

Nathan Fiennes slipped gently back into a coma shortly thereafter, and did not rouse a second time. Though apparently in no discomfort, his vital signs became more and more depressed as the evening wore on. His physicians held out little hope that he would last the night.<\/p>\n

His son Lawrence arrived shortly after ten o\u2019clock, white-faced and anxious, fetched from the airport by Superintendent Phipps and McLeod, the latter of whom remained at the hospital to wait for Adam. Nathan lingered until just before midnight, surrounded by his wife and sons and the friend he had called both to witness his passing and to carry out his final wishes. Adam watched over his old friend\u2019s bedside like a knight keeping vigil at the altar, bowing his head when, at the end, a grieving Lawrence pulled a small prayer book from his pocket and began to read, beginning in Hebrew and then shifting to lightly accented English.<\/p>\n

\u201cShema Yisrael, Adonai Elohenu, Adonai Echad. Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One\u2026. Go, since the Lord sends thee; go, and the Lord will be with thee; the Lord God is with him, and he will ascend.\u201d As Lawrence intoned the exhortation twice more, his voice choking toward the end, Peter reached across and gently took the prayer book from him, continuing to read as Adam quietly slipped an arm around the shoulders of the younger son in comfort.<\/p>\n

\u201cMay the Lord bless thee and keep thee,\u201d Peter read. \u201cMay the Lord let His countenance shine upon thee, and be gracious unto thee. May the Lord lift up His countenance upon thee, and give thee peace. At thy right hand is Michael, at thy left is Gabriel\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam lifted his head at the recitation of the angelic names, for though the order was slightly different, the calling of the four archangels was common to his own tradition.<\/p>\n

\u201cBefore thee is Uriel, and behind thee is Raphael, and above thy head is the divine presence of God,\u201d Peter went on. \u201cThe angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear Him, and He delivereth them. Be strong and of good courage; be not affrighted, neither be thou dismayed; for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n

When it was over, Adam spoke briefly with the attending physician, who had slipped in beside him during the final moments to watch helplessly as the life-support monitors faded, then joined McLeod in the corridor outside, to give the family a few minutes alone with their grief.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s gone, then?\u201d McLeod said, as Adam appeared, his tie loosened and his suit coat over one shoulder.<\/p>\n

Adam nodded, his expression somber. \u201cI don\u2019t suppose one could wish for a gentler passing, under the circumstances. It was premature, though. He should have been allowed another decade or two, to see his grandchildren well grown and to carry on his research.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, we\u2019ll see if we can\u2019t find those responsible,\u201d McLeod said. \u201cDid you find out more about this stolen Seal?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam glanced back at the glass-windowed double doors leading into the ICU.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYes, I did; and Nathan\u2019s urgency apparently was well founded.\u201d His expression was grave as he drew McLeod farther along the corridor from the nurses\u2019 station, where they would not be overheard.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m afraid Nathan was out of his depth,\u201d he said quietly. \u201cI wish he\u2019d come to me sooner, but I doubt he really knew what he had. He had come to believe that the Seal guarded a treasure or a secret somehow connected with King Solomon and the Temple in Jerusalem. I\u2019m left with the distinct impression that it kept something powerful and dangerous locked away – whether in Jerusalem or someplace closer to home, I couldn\u2019t begin to guess. The Knights Templar figure in the story somehow, perhaps as guardians of the Seal. According to his son, Nathan has a document from the late fourteenth century that\u2019s a promissory note for money borrowed against the Seal by someone called James Graeme. Nathan referred to him as Graeme of Temple-grange.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSounds like a Templar place name, all right,\u201d McLeod rumbled. \u201cBut isn\u2019t that a little late for Templars?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAye, at least half a century late,\u201d Adam agreed. \u201cBut don\u2019t forget that the papal decree dissolving the Order was never publicly proclaimed in Scotland. \u00a0<\/span>Even in England, it was months before the authorities made a halfhearted attempt to enforce the decree. This James Graeme could have been a Templar, or a descendant – and Templegrange certainly suggests a former Templar connection of his estate, just like Templemor.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut what would Templars be doing with the Seal of Solomon?\u201d McLeod asked.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cMaybe they brought it with them from Jerusalem, when they moved their headquarters to Paris,\u201d Adam said lightly. \u201cI don\u2019t know. For that matter, I don\u2019t know that it\u2019s actually Solomon\u2019s Seal. He also mentioned Dundee, and I also don\u2019t know what connection the Templars had with that. I never had the impression that their holdings were extensive in that area, but I never had reason to investigate specifically, either. I know a lot about Templemor, of course; and there\u2019s the village of Temple, down by Gore-bridge, which used to be the main Templar preceptory for Scotland. I don\u2019t think there\u2019s much left standing, though – \u201c He broke off as a shaken-looking Peter Fiennes came out of the ICU, glancing in their direction and then heading toward them.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere you are,\u201d Peter said. \u201cI wasn\u2019t sure where you\u2019d gotten to. You must be Inspector McLeod,\u201d he added, offering his hand to McLeod, who shook it. \u2018 Thank you for coming along with Adam.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI only hope I can help your local police find the culprits,\u201d McLeod said. \u201cI\u2019m very sorry for your loss, Mr. Fiennes. I wish I\u2019d known your father. I\u2019ve heard Adam speak of him often, and in glowing terms.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re very kind,\u201d Peter said, obviously restraining his emotions only with an effort. He returned his gaze to Adam and drew a fortifying breath. \u201cAdam, if you and the inspector haven\u2019t made other plans, I\u2019d be very grateful if you\u2019d both come and stay at my mother\u2019s house tonight. You\u2019d have to share a room, I\u2019m afraid, but I\u2019d feel better if you\u2019re there for her in the morning, when some of the shock begins to wear off.\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam glanced at McLeod, who gave a sober nod.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhatever you think best, Adam. We have an offer from Walter as well, but it sounds like you might be needed more with Mrs. Fiennes.\u201d \u201cIf you\u2019re sure it won\u2019t be an imposition,\u201d Adam said to Peter. \u201cYou\u2019ll have heavy family obligations in the next few days. I wouldn\u2019t want to intrude.\u201d \u201cIt\u2019s no intrusion, believe me,\u201d Peter replied. \u201cBesides, if you stay at the house, you can start going through Father\u2019s papers first thing in the morning. \u00a0<\/span>One always feels so helpless at a time like this. At least maybe something in his notes will help with the police investigation.\u201d<\/p>\n

chapter four<\/p>\n

THEY were at Nathan\u2019s files shortly after ten the next morning, following a substantial breakfast served up by Peter\u2019s wife. Rachel was still asleep, thanks to the light sedative Adam had persuaded her to take the night before, and her younger son, Lawrence, had assumed responsibility for arranging the funeral, which would take place the following morning. As the house began to buzz with the bustle of callers coming to offer their condolences downstairs, Peter conducted Adam and McLeod up to Nathan\u2019s study and gave them a quick briefing on the general form of his father\u2019s research notes.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019re these two boxes of index cards,\u201d Peter said, thumping the two green file boxes on the desktop, \u201cand then there\u2019s three – no, four hard-backed notebooks.\u201d He pulled these from a bottom desk drawer and slapped them down beside the boxes. Nathan had kept the notebooks in ballpoint pen, and the pen\u2019s impression on the thin paper had made the pages bulge slightly from between the grey marbleized covers.<\/p>\n

\u201cHere\u2019s some more stuff,\u201d Peter went on, pulling out a slim stack of file folders and large manila envelopes. \u201cOne of these ought to be – yes: photos of the Seal. I knew these were around here somewhere. He sent me one, years ago, and I used to keep it thumbtacked to my bulletin board at college. Of course, I had no idea how old it was, in those days. Neither did Dad, I suppose.\u201d Adam glanced at the photo Peter held out, gesturing for him to show it to McLeod, and picked up one of the notebooks at random, riffling experimentally through its pages.<\/p>\n

\u201cAt least it looks like he kept his notes in plain English,\u201d he observed. \u201cI was half-afraid we might find ourselves having to grapple with some kind of personal cipher.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, there may be something worse than that,\u201d Peter said, delving into another desk drawer and lifting out a very compact laptop computer. \u201cI know he\u2019d started using this the last couple of years. I\u2019d be willing to bet that most of the recent material is in here.\u201d<\/p>\n

As he set it on a clear spot on the desk, McLeod positioned his aviator spectacles more squarely on his nose and gestured toward the chair before the desk.<\/p>\n

\u201cMay I?\u201d he asked, also including the machine in his gesture.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sitting, McLeod opened the screen and turned the computer on. A series of standard commands got the system booted up and running, and finally produced a directory listing such intriguing headings as Britmus, Dundee, Re-sasst, and Tmplgrng, but it also demanded a password to gain further access.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI don\u2019t suppose you know what your father\u2019s password was for these files?\u201d McLeod asked Peter, as he tried, first, SEAL and then SOLOMON and failed to get in.<\/p>\n

Peter shook his head. \u201cI\u2019m afraid I don\u2019t. It\u2019s possible Mother might know, but I doubt it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I don\u2019t know about Noel,\u201d Adam said, \u201cbut I\u2019m afraid my computer skills aren\u2019t up to hacking into protected files without some expert assistance. Would you mind if we take this away with us, Peter?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot at all, if you think it will help,\u201d he said. \u201cGood Lord, that must be maddening, to know there\u2019s possibly useful material there, and not be able to get at it.\u201d He glanced at the boxes and notebooks. \u201cDo you think these will be any help?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe\u2019ll have a quick scan through them and see,\u201d Adam said, as McLeod shut down the computer and closed its screen. \u201cMeanwhile, if you want to go and see if your mother has stirred yet, or your brother needs help – \u201c \u201cI can take a hint,\u201d Peter said with an awkward smile.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI\u2019ll leave you two at it. Let me know if I can help you with anything else.\u201d When Peter had gone, closing the study door behind him, Adam pulled another chair closer and resumed his perusal of the least thumbed of the notebooks. \u00a0<\/span>McLeod had already shifted his attention to the first file box, and was flipping through the cards in it.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat do you think?\u201d Adam said. McLeod shook his head. \u201cIt isn\u2019t going to be easy. This is right out of my league.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou may surprise yourself,\u201d Adam said. \u201cWhat have you got?\u201d \u201cWell, these appear to be bibliographical references,\u201d McLeod replied. \u201cHe\u2019s got books, articles, manuscripts, and other miscellaneous documents, mostly about biblical archaeology and a lot on the Knights Templar and the Crusades. A good many of the citations seem to come from libraries on the Continent.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAh, now, this may prove interesting,\u201d he said, pulling out a card and holding its place with a finger as he tilted the card toward the light from the window. \u00a0<\/span>\u201cLook here, in the lower right-hand corner. Would you say those are initials? <\/p>\n

Maybe the initials of the researcher who made the citation?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam glanced over at what he was doing and gave a nod. \u201cThat would be my guess. <\/p>\n

Are there many different sets?\u201d<\/p>\n

Returning the card to its place and fingering farther along the stack, McLeod made an affirmative grunt.<\/p>\n

\u201cLooks like there could be a dozen or so. The entries themselves have been typed on a variety of machines, apparently over quite a span of time. Some of these cards look pretty old and dog-eared. Shall I try to pull a list of initials?\u201d \u201cYes, and it wouldn\u2019t hurt to see if you can match any of them to names in Nathan\u2019s address book, if we can find that,\u201d Adam replied, setting aside the notebook he had been looking at and leaning in to open the desk drawer. As he bent to peer inside, feeling toward the back among the untidy piles of envelopes and index cards, McLeod conducted the same sort of search in the drawers on the left.<\/p>\n

The elusive address book turned up in the top drawer on the right. Adam flipped through it briefly, illogically hoping that a name would pique his attention, then handed it to McLeod.<\/p>\n

\u201cSee what you can do with that,\u201d he said, picking up the stack of notebooks. \u201cIf you can come up with a list of initials in the next hour or two, I\u2019ll ask Peter to have a look at it when we break for lunch. Meanwhile, the address book may provide some preliminary guesses.\u201d<\/p>\n

As McLeod moved a yellow pad closer and pulled a pen from an inside coat pocket, Adam took the stack of notebooks over to an armchair nearer the window, where he settled down for a serious read. The most recent one had only half a dozen entries, mainly having to do with background on seals similar to the one until recently in Nathan\u2019s possession. Apparently Nathan had recently received confirmation of his own Seal\u2019s antiquity.<\/p>\n

Prepared for a long and probably fruitless search, Adam set the notebook aside and picked up the next most recent one. As he flipped to the end, intending to work backwards from the material he had already read, the notebook fell open to a letter-folded piece of paper tucked snugly into the crease of the binding. It proved to be a photocopy of a letter from a Dr. Albrecht Steiner, in the art history department of the Sorbonne, to someone named Henri Gerard at a Paris address. It was dated the previous March.<\/p>\n

\u201cNoel, do the initials \u2018H.G.\u2019 appear on any of your cards?\u201d Adam asked, as he skimmed over the typewritten French with growing interest.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cYes, quite a few,\u201d McLeod replied. \u201cWhat have you got?\u201d \u201cA copy of a letter to a Henri Gerard from the Sorbonne,\u201d Adam replied. \u201cIt appears to be a report on a metal sample taken from Nathan\u2019s Seal and sent to their labs for – well, now.\u201d<\/p>\n

McLeod looked up. \u201cWhat does it say?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, unless my French has totally failed me, the man who wrote this letter dates the piece from around 950 b.c. – what\u2019s known as the First Temple Period. \u00a0<\/span>He apparently was working from detailed photographs of the Seal. And listen to this,\u201d he said, translating. \u201cChemical analysis of the sample provided is compatible with bronze samples taken from the prehistoric mineworks at Tell el-Kheleifeh, more popularly know as King Solomon\u2019s Mines.\u201d \u201cKing Solomon\u2019s Mines?\u201d McLeod repeated. \u201cAdam, do you think the stolen Seal really is the Seal of Solomon?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam shook his head. \u201cI wouldn\u2019t go that far, based on the evidence I\u2019ve seen so far. But I wouldn\u2019t rule out the possibility, either. I wonder what other intriguing tidbits we\u2019re going to find. Oh, Nathan, I wish you could have told me more about what\u2019s going on\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n

They carried on with their research for the remainder of the morning, until Peter Fiennes came to summon them downstairs for lunch. Lawrence had gone to the airport with Peter\u2019s wife to collect Nathan\u2019s sister and her family, so they were only four at table.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat can you tell me about Henri Gerard?\u201d Adam asked, over green salad and grilled cheese sandwiches washed down with a crisp Riesling. \u201cI gather that he was one of your father\u2019s researchers.\u201d<\/p>\n

Peter exchanged a glance with his mother, who was looking reassuringly composed as she settled into her first full day of widowhood.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat makes you ask about him!\u201d Peter replied.<\/p>\n

\u201cJust that I found a copy of a letter to him. Apparently he had lab tests run on a metal sample taken from the Seal.\u201d<\/p>\n

He showed the letter around while he related the general findings of the report.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cAside from the information being very interesting, though, it\u2019s the name that interests me,\u201d he said, as he took the letter back. \u201cHenri Gerard is the first name we\u2019ve come up with, who we know is connected with Nathan\u2019s research. Noel has compiled a list of initials he\u2019d like you to look at, after you\u2019ve finished lunch, to see if you can assign names. We suspect they\u2019re other researchers who have worked with your father, and the police will probably want to talk to some of them, to start forming a profile of who might have wanted to steal the Seal.\u201d \u201cWell, I can\u2019t imagine any of them would be involved in something like that,\u201d Peter said. \u201cGerard\u2019s a little older than most of the assistants Father worked with, over the years – a bit of an eccentric, in the manner of many dedicated scholars, but I\u2019m sure he\u2019s harmless.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe probably is,\u201d Adam replied. \u201cHow did he and your father meet?\u201d Peter gave a halfhearted shrug. \u201cGerard spent a sabbatical here a couple of years ago, right after a team of archaeologists uncovered a previously unknown burial ground in the medieval Jewish quarter of the city. At the time, he was pursuing some crackpot theory that the Knights Templar had been making an in-depth study of Jewish necromancy. That\u2019s what I meant by \u2018eccentric,\u2019 \u201c he added at Adam\u2019s look of surprise. \u201cThe trial of the Templars is his area of special expertise. He was hoping the grave sites might yield up some support for his theory. He needed some help with some Hebrew translations, so the site supervisor put him onto my father.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWas there evidence of Jewish necromancy?\u201d Adam asked.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cOf course not. So far as I know, that research never came to anything. But he got interested in what Dad was doing, that summer he was here, and he sort of became Dad\u2019s continental contact for tracking down obscure references. I know he has access to parts of the Vatican Archives that most people can\u2019t get at. Can\u2019t tell you much more about him, though.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, that\u2019s probably sufficient on him for now,\u201d Adam said, glancing at McLeod. \u201cHow about taking a look at Noel\u2019s list of initials, and seeing if you can supply us with some more names?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSure. Let\u2019s see,\u201d he said, turning his attention to the list McLeod passed him. \u00a0<\/span>\u201cAh, \u2018N.G.\u2019 That would be Nina Gresham. She was a dear. She did a Ph.D. under Dad\u2019s supervision a couple of years ago. I think she\u2019s at some private institute in Italy now. She isn\u2019t Jewish, but her Hebrew is almost as good as Dad\u2019s. I don\u2019t know where she picked it up. She has six or eight ancient languages. Works with documents from the time of the Crusades.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat about this T.B.\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat would be Tevye Herman. He\u2019s Israeli, was working on a dig in Jerusalem near the site of the old Temple. A good guy. I think he\u2019s dead now, though.\u201d \u201cAnd \u2018M.O.\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCouldn\u2019t tell you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow about \u2018K.S.\u2019?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cKaren Slater, maybe. Or it could be Keith Sherman. They\u2019ve both worked for Dad, over the years.\u201d<\/p>\n

In the next quarter hour, Peter Fiennes was able to assign names to almost all of the initials McLeod had gleaned from the file cards, with his mother supplying a few he had not known. After coffee, Adam and McLeod went back upstairs to continue their research and leave the family their privacy.\u00a0 <\/span>Most of the names matched those McLeod had been able to glean from Nathan\u2019s address book, compiled on a second list with addresses and telephone numbers. \u00a0<\/span>The ones that matched, McLeod ticked and copied onto a master list, while Adam continued to read in Nathan\u2019s notebooks. By four, when it was clear that McLeod had done about all he could at this end, he rang Walter Phipps at York Police headquarters to arrange for transportation to the airport for the 5:50 flight back to Edinburgh.<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s really no point in my hanging around here for the funeral, since I didn\u2019t know your Nathan,\u201d he said, when he had made the call. \u201cI can probably do a whole lot more from home. When Walter collects me, I\u2019ll give him this copy of the names and addresses of the research assistants, and let his lads follow up on the conventional aspects of the case. Meanwhile, I\u2019ll have a go at cracking those computer files tonight.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat might save us some time,\u201d Adam agreed. \u201cThere\u2019s nothing in the last notebook since spring, so it\u2019s quite possible that some of his recent correspondence is in there – anything that might give us a clue what we\u2019re up against. What about this Henri Gerard? Am I grasping at straws, just because Peter said he was a bit eccentric, or do you think he figures in the case? There is a Templar connection.\u201d<\/p>\n

McLeod sat back in his chair and pulled off his glasses with a sigh, to massage the bridge of his nose.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think he may be a player, Adam. Call it a cop\u2019s sixth sense, if you like, but to use a cop term I picked up in the States, there\u2019s something \u2018hinky\u2019 about him.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou think so too, eh?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGood, then. I\u2019m glad it isn\u2019t just me,\u201d McLeod said. \u201cWhen I get back, I\u2019m going to make a couple of calls to Paris. My friend Treville at the Surete owes me a favor or two. I\u2019d like to see whether he knows anything about our man.\u201d He replaced his glasses and put the lids back on the two file boxes, then pushed them farther toward the back of the desk. \u201cYou planning to catch the same flight tomorrow night?\u201d<\/p>\n

Adam nodded. \u201cThe funeral\u2019s at eleven, so the timing\u2019s just about perfect. A lot of people will be coming back to the house afterwards, so I shouldn\u2019t have any trouble getting someone to run me to the airport. If you could call Humphrey and alert him when you get back, I\u2019d appreciate it.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWill do.\u201d<\/p>\n

When McLeod had gone off with Phipps, Adam returned to join the Fiennes family for the soothing and civilized ritual of afternoon tea, made more formal by the subdued clothing and conversation of those partaking. Members of the Fiennes clan had been arriving all afternoon, from far-flung corners of the world, and Rachel and Risa, Peter\u2019s wife, were diverting their sorrow by catering to their guests. After tea, to give the family some privacy, Adam took himself off for a walk into the ancient city of York, with notice to Peter that he would find his own evening meal. He needed time to assimilate what he had been reading, and space apart for an hour or two, to deal with his personal sorrow at Nathan\u2019s passing.<\/p>\n

His meanderings soon took him into the grounds and then the rear entrance of the cathedral, which was in the midst of Evensong. Especially drawn by this offering of thanksgiving and praise after the sorrow of the past twenty-four hours, he slipped inside and sat listening quietly in the back, for he did not wish to intrude on the service in progress. Heard down the length of the great nave, the pure sound of the boys\u2019 voices floated poignant and sweet. As Adam settled back to actually listen to what they were singing, he realized that they could not have chosen better, had they known that they marked the passing of Nathan Fiennes.<\/p>\n

\u201cRemember, Lord, how short life is, How frail you have made all flesh.<\/p>\n

Who can live and not see death?<\/p>\n

Who can save himself from the power of the grave\u2026?\u201d Much moved, Adam slipped to his knees and offered up a silent prayer of thanksgiving for the life of Nathan Fiennes, knowing that his old friend would not mind that it was given in a Christian place of worship. The actual words of the scripture readings that followed did not carry well to where he was seated, so he let the drone of the reader\u2019s voice simply carry him deeper into communion with the All. After a while, kneeling there with his eyes closed, he found the image of Nathan\u2019s Seal before him in his mind\u2019s eye, dispelled only when the choir began to sing the Nunc dimittis. \u201cLord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace, according to Thy word\u2026.\u201d That, too, was a fitting farewell to his old friend.<\/p>\n

After the service was over, Adam lingered for a little while to savor the beauty of the cathedral, strolling up as far as the transept to crane his neck backwards and gaze up at the soaring vault of the lantern tower, the largest of its kind in England. Shortly thereafter, vergers began quietly herding visitors toward the door, so he drifted outside to mount the city wall at Bootham Bar and stroll along its esplanade, gazing out over the city by the light of the dying day.<\/p>\n

After tea so late in the afternoon, he did not feel like eating dinner, so he returned to the Fiennes residence at about half past nine and, after inquiring whether there was any way he could assist the family, declared his intention to head up to bed for a proper night\u2019s sleep after the short hours of the night before. Before retiring, however, he paused at the phone in a niche at the foot of the stairs to make a brief call to McLeod.<\/p>\n

\u201cHullo, Noel,\u201d he said without preamble, when McLeod himself answered. \u201cI know you\u2019ve only been home a few hours, but any progress?\u201d \u201cNone on Gerard,\u201d McLeod replied, \u201cthough I did talk to Treville. He\u2019s supposed to get back to me sometime tomorrow. I had some luck with Nathan\u2019s computer, though. Have you got a minute?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat did you find?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, he\u2019s got some very interesting files in here,\u201d McLeod said. Adam could hear the gentle click of the keyboard as McLeod called up material on his screen to refer to it. \u201cA lot of it is diary-type entries, probably similar to what you were reading in the notebooks, but he\u2019s got some actual transcripts and translations of some of his documents as well. Do you want to hear some of this?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGive me a sampling,\u201d Adam replied, pulling a notepad closer and taking out a pen. \u201cI don\u2019t want to tie up this line too long, in case relatives are trying to get through to the family, but it might give me something to work on while I sleep. I don\u2019t know about you, but I\u2019m exhausted after last night\u2019s late hours.\u201d \u201cSo am I,\u201d McLeod agreed, to the accompaniment of more keys clicking. \u201cI nodded off on the flight home, slept right through the landing. I\u2019ve never done that before. Anyway, I\u2019m looking at a chain of references that appears to link the Templars with our Graeme of Templegrange, who pawned the Seal. A minor demesne called Templegrange is mentioned in a letter of 1284 from King Alexander III to the Bishop of Dunkeld. The wording leaves it uncertain whether Templegrange belongs to the King or the bishop, but Nathan cites later evidence suggesting that the property was probably a minor Templar commandery at the time of the Order\u2019s dissolution in 1314. The Order had a lot of land in Scotland, as you know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, Templemor has a similar history,\u201d Adam said, jotting down notes. \u201cGo on.\u201d \u201cA little later on, Nathan references a grant of lands by Robert the Bruce to a Sir James Graeme of Perthshire, in gratitude for support given to the King at the Battle of Bannockburn the previous year. There\u2019s no transcription of the document itself, but even I remember that Bannockburn was also 1314. After that, something else is obviously missing, but Nathan somehow makes the connection that Templegrange was the particular land granted to Sir James Graeme, and concludes that this same Sir James may have been an ancestor of the Graeme of Templegrange who pawned the Seal in 1381. Have you got all that?\u201d \u201cIt seems like a straightforward chain of logic, if it\u2019s all supportable,\u201d Adam replied. \u201cThe important thing is the Templar connection – though we\u2019d supposed that, from the name Templegrange.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThere\u2019s more,\u201d McLeod continued, \u201cand you\u2019re going to feel really foolish over this one. I certainly did.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cGo on.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, I also cracked the Dundee file. I think Nathan meant the person, not the place – as in \u2018Bonnie Dundee,\u2019 whose full name was -?\u201d \u201cJohn Grahame of Claverhouse, Viscount Dundee,\u201d Adam supplied, feeling foolish as predicted – though how the Seal of Solomon and a Templar secret connected with a seventeenth-century Cavalier general, he had no idea.\u00a0 <\/span>The man remembered as Bonnie Dundee was perhaps one of the most flamboyant and controversial figures of the early Jacobite period of Scottish history. Known to every educated Scot as the victor of the Battle of Killiecrankie, fought in 1689 against a superior force of English soldiery, Claverhouse had been feared by his enemies as \u201cBluidy Clavers\u201d and adored by his Highland followers as their \u201cDark John of the Battles.\u201d Though he had not survived his famous triumph, his undoubted courage and gallantry had made him the hero of many a song and story – none, so far as Adam knew, with any connection to Knights Templar or mysterious seals. It briefly occurred to him to wonder whether Nathan\u2019s whole story might be just as fanciful as the historical fantasies of Henri Gerard – except for the urgency of Nathan\u2019s dying declaration.<\/p>\n

\u201cI know you\u2019re probably hunting for a connection, the same as I\u2019ve been doing,\u201d McLeod said, intruding on Adam\u2019s brief speculation. \u201cOther than the link of the names – Graeme and Grahame – I haven\u2019t a clue what that connection might be, since the Seal was pawned well over three hundred years before Dundee died. And it\u2019s been another three hundred years since then.<\/p>\n

\u201cBut Nathan obviously thought there was a connection,\u201d McLeod went on, \u201cor he wouldn\u2019t have cluttered up his hard disk with all these Dundee files. We have to assume that Graeme of Templegrange never redeemed the Seal, since it ended up in the Fiennes family; so where does John Grahame of Claverhouse come in?\u201d Adam shook his head, even though he knew McLeod could not see it.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cI haven\u2019t the foggiest idea,\u201d he said truthfully. \u201cNot even an inkling. There\u2019s nothing in all that Dundee material to suggest anything?\u201d \u201cI honestly don\u2019t know,\u201d McLeod replied. \u201cIt took me a while to hack into these files, and I\u2019ve only had a chance to skim through. Would you like me to print out what\u2019s here? I could have Donald run the hard copy out to Strathmourne tomorrow, so it\u2019ll be waiting for you when you get in. I\u2019ll have to stick close to the office myself, to wait for that callback on Gerard.\u201d \u201cI think that might be a good idea. Yes, do that.\u201d<\/p>\n

They parted on the understanding that Adam would try to check in again between the funeral and leaving for the airport. Meanwhile, he had been given much new food for thought. As he headed upstairs, he chided himself again for missing the Dundee connection with John Grahame of Claverhouse.\u00a0 <\/span>And how did the Jacobite hero connect with the Templars and the Seal of Solomon? \u00a0<\/span>That was not at all clear. Dundee had been a staunch supporter of the Stuart cause – but again, how did that connect to Templars?\u00a0 <\/span>He let his brain mull the questions as he brushed his teeth and readied for bed, and found a traditional, haunting melody running through his head, accompanied by the immortal words of Sir Walter Scott:<\/p>\n

To the Lords of Convention \u2018twas Clover\u2019se who spoke, \u2018Ere the King\u2019s crown shall fall there are crowns to be broke;<\/p>\n

So let each Cavalier who loves honour and me, Come follow the bonnets of Bonnie Dundee.<\/p>\n

The melody stayed to haunt him as he drifted off to sleep, with snatches of the lyrics weaving in and out of consciousness until at last he sank beyond awareness. The first few hours were dreamless, as he made up for the night before. But then images of increasing vividness began to tease at semiconsciousness.<\/p>\n

The source of the initial impressions was not difficult to determine: glimpses of Dundee astride a great, plunging bay steed, sword in hand as he urged his followers on – the archetypal Cavalier hero. Then, gradually, the buff-coated Highland cavalry following him became crusader knights charging into battle, red crosses emblazoned on their white surcoats and the black and white beauceant banner of the Order of the Temple fluttering overhead in the bright sun of desert climes.<\/p>\n

But there was a tension building. Suddenly the equestrian images yielded to a ghostly apparition of King Solomon himself, bearded and potent, majestically robed in flowing vestments of scarlet adorned with Qabalistic symbols, and crowned with a shining golden diadem that looked like a six-pointed star with the points bent up. In his left hand he held up what was surely Nathan\u2019s Seal like a protective talisman. His right hand wielded a sceptre or wand, its tip so brightly glowing that Adam could barely look upon it.\u00a0 <\/span>Adam\u2019s dream-self flung up an arm to shield his eyes, but a word of command from the great King bade him look where the Sceptre pointed. Trembling, Adam obeyed – to find himself being drawn toward a roil of churning yellow cloud, alive with sickly flickerings of greenish-yellow light. From within the clouds came waves of such dread as to make his stomach turn.<\/p>\n

He woke in a cold sweat, gasping, his heart pounding as he instinctively drew on deep protections to envelop and protect him. He did not turn on the light, for by the sliver of light leaking underneath the bedroom door from the hall, he could see that there was nothing physically there. But certain it was that the dream had been a warning – whether merely from his unconscious, embroidering on what he had been reading about Nathan\u2019s speculations regarding the missing Seal, or from some external source, he could not tell.<\/p>\n

But this was not the time or place to find out, alone and in unfamiliar surroundings, without even a clear picture of the problem yet, much less the solution; and certainly not under the added tension of the palpable grief in the Fiennes house. The urgency was unmistakable, but more active investigation must wait until tomorrow, when he returned home, and as more of the background became clearer.<\/p>\n

Yet the residue of menace lingered, so much so that eventually he got up and fetched from the pocket of his suit coat a handsome gold signet ring set with a dark sapphire. Slipping it on his finger as he padded back to bed, he simultaneously offered up a formal prayer for protection and then touched the stone to his lips in salute. The ring was an outward symbol of his esoteric calling, and sometimes a tool of that vocation, and the little ritual grounded him firmly back in the realms of reason.<\/p>\n

Further ritual before he lay back down again made of his bed a focus of celestial protection – a simple rite known as Sealing the Aura, which called upon the great archangels to guard the quarters and was sealed at last with a six-pointed star. His sleep thereafter was undisturbed by dreams, but he still slept lightly, as a part of him kept watch and pondered what had surfaced.<\/p>\n

chapter five<\/p>\n

NATHAN Fiennes\u2019 funeral took place shortly before noon the following morning, in the presence of his family and scores of friends and colleagues who had come together in shock and grief to mourn his passing. In keeping with Jewish custom, the service was starkly simple and unpretentious, all the more poignant for the weight of ancient tradition that shaped its form. Adam, sitting directly behind the family in the chapel adjoining the burial ground, was struck, as always, by the commonalities that united all men and women of goodwill, especially at a time of loss. \u201cO Lord, what is man that Thou dost regard him, or the son of man that Thou dost take account of him?\u201d the officiating rabbi read. \u201cMan is like a breath, his days are like a passing shadow. Thou dost sweep men away. They are like a dream, like grass which is renewed in the morning. In the morning it flourishes and grows, but in the evening it fades and withers\u2026.\u201d Following along in the service book, caught up in the cadences of ancient ritual, which alternated between Hebrew and English, Adam was yet aware of the physical setting of this farewell and memorial to his departed friend. The chapel itself contained no religious symbol of any faith. Its focus was the plain and unadorned wooden coffin set before the congregation, covered with the pristine wool drapery of a tallit, such as all observant Jews customarily wore at their devotions. This one, Adam knew, had been brought by Lawrence from Jerusalem, in hopes that he might wear it in thanksgiving at his father\u2019s recovery; now it lay in tribute upon his father\u2019s coffin. Nathan\u2019s own tallit would have been lovingly wrapped around his shrouded body before laying it in the coffin, with one of the fringes cut to render it no longer fit for use – for Nathan no longer had need of it.<\/p>\n

A single candle burned behind the coffin, but no flowers adorned coffin or chapel, for Jewish custom did not deem this appropriate in a time of sorrow. The men all wore yarmulkes on their heads, as did Adam himself, out of respect for Jewish custom.<\/p>\n

\u201cO God, full of compassion,\u201d the rabbi prayed, \u201cThou Who dwellest on high, grant perfect rest beneath the sheltering wings of Thy presence, among the holy and pure who shine as the brightness of the heavens, unto the soul of Natan, son of Binyamin, who has gone unto eternity, and in whose memory charity is offered. \u00a0<\/span>May his repose be in Paradise. May the Lord of Mercy bring him under the cover of His wings forever, and may his soul be bound up in the bond of eternal life. \u00a0<\/span>May the Lord be his possession, and may he rest in peace. Amen.\u201d Following a brief but moving eulogy and more prayers, Adam was among those who joined Nathan\u2019s sons in shouldering his coffin to bear it out into the cemetery, their halting procession accompanied by the cantor\u2019s solemn recitation of the beautiful and moving ninety-first Psalm.<\/p>\n

\u201cHe that dwelleth in the shelter of the Most High abideth under the shadow of the Almighty. I say of the Lord, He is my refuge and my fortress; my God in Whom I trust. For He shall deliver thee from the snare of the fowler, and from the noisome pestilence. He shall cover thee with His pinions, and under His wings shalt thou take refuge\u2026.\u201d<\/p>\n

The graveside rites were as bleak as the wind that sighed in off the Yorkshire downs.<\/p>\n

\u201cTzidduk ha \u2018din\u2026.\u201d The Rock, His work is perfect, for all His ways are judgement: A God of faithfulness and without iniquity, just and right is He\u2026. \u00a0<\/span>The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord\u2026. <\/p>\n

May he come to his place in peace.<\/p>\n

The coffin was lowered into the earth with simple finality. After that, beginning with Peter and then Lawrence, those wishing to pay their final respects came forward to turn three shovels of earth onto the coffin; the shovel was not passed from one to the next, but left upright in the mound of earth beside the grave. Earlier, briefing Adam on what to expect, Peter had explained that the symbolic gesture expressed the prayer that the tragedy of death not be passed on.<\/p>\n

The silence was broken only by the hiss of the shovel being thrust into earth, occasionally ringing against stones, and the thump of falling earth, first hollowly on the wooden coffin and then, as the grave began to fill, the softer, more solid patter of earth on earth. When Adam\u2019s turn came, he made of each of his oblations of earth a prayer as well, drawing on his Celtic heritage for the words of his own silent farewell.<\/p>\n

Blessings in the name of the Father of Israel, Blessings in the name of the Rabbi Jesus, Blessings of the Spirit Who brooded on the waters – Thus may you be blessed as you travel on your way\u2026.<\/p>\n

He thrust the shovel into the mound of earth beside the grave with bowed head and stood back, melding into the crowd.<\/p>\n

The process continued until the grave had been completely filled in, the men taking turns with the serious business of shoveling earth, once the token gestures had been made. Then, after the rabbi had offered another short prayer and led the assembled mourners in recitation of a Psalm, Peter and Lawrence stepped forward to offer Kad-dish for their father for the first time – an ancient prayer Adam had learned from Nathan many years ago, and which he now offered in company with those around him, giving somber response to Nathan\u2019s sons.<\/p>\n

\u201cYisgadal v\u2019yiskadash sh\u2019may rabbah,\u201d the two read, \u201cb\u2019olmo d\u2019hu asid I\u2019ls-chadosho\u2026.\u201d Magnified and sanctified be His great name in the world which He will renew, reviving the dead, and raising them to life eternal\u2026. May He establish His kingdom during your lifetime, and during the life of all the House of Israel, speedily; and let us say. Amen. Let His great name be blessed for ever and to all eternity! Blessed, praised, glorified, and exalted; extolled, honored, magnified and lauded, be the name of the Holy one, blessed be He. He is greater than all blessings, hymns, praises and consolations which can be uttered in this world; and let us say, Amen. May there be abundant peace from heaven, and life for us and for all Israel; and let us say, Amen.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cOseh shalom bimeromav, Hu ya\u2019aseh shalom, alenu v\u2019al Kol yisroel; v\u2019imru amen.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAmen,\u201d the congregation replied, in affirmation of the final exhortation.\u00a0 <\/span>When the last prayer had been offered and the last Psalm recited, those present formed a double line through which the family passed, offered comfort by ancient formula: \u201cHa \u2018makom yenachem et \u2018chem b \u2018toch she \u2018ar avelei Tziyon vi\u2019Yerushalayim.\u201d May the Omnipresent comfort you together with all the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem.<\/p>\n

Adam held back a little as the rest started to disperse slowly toward the cars, watching as some of the attendees plucked grass and cast it behind them. Several more paused to set small stones on the grave, bowing their heads in what Lawrence had told him was an Israeli custom, asking forgiveness for any injustice they might have committed against the deceased. Bowing his head, Adam added his own silent promise to Nathan to persevere in the task set before him, even though it seemed overwhelming at present. He had just turned to join the rest, heading toward the car in which he had ridden with several of Nathan\u2019s distant relatives, when Peter Fiennes detached himself from the immediate family, leaving his mother in the care of his brother, and came to fall into step beside Adam.<\/p>\n

\u201cThank you again for being here,\u201d he said quietly. He hesitated slightly, then added, \u201cI didn\u2019t realize you were so familiar with Hebrew ritual. Your accent is almost better than mine.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI owe my instruction to your father,\u201d Adam said with a faint smile. \u201cWhen he and I were both at Cambridge, a close friend of mine was drowned in a boating accident, and I asked your father to teach me to pray Kaddish in Hebrew for him. \u00a0<\/span>It\u2019s one of those universal prayers that speaks from the heart of mankind. \u00a0<\/span>Nathan always maintained that a common thirst for communion with the Divine was what united all truly spiritual people, whatever their formal religious affiliations might be.\u201d<\/p>\n

Peter accepted this tribute with a wan smile. \u201cThat sounds like Dad, all right. \u00a0<\/span>He was lucky to have you for a friend. If anyone can recover the Seal for him, I know you can. I wish there were more I could do to help, besides just drive you to the airport in a couple of hours.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust pray for our success,\u201d Adam said, \u201cand I mean that quite literally.\u201d He smiled and added, \u201cActually, there is one, more concrete thing you could do, and that\u2019s to let me take the rest of your father\u2019s notes away with me for further study. It\u2019s beginning to look like we need to speak with Henri Gerard, but we still don\u2019t know exactly what we\u2019re up against. Also, if anything else should turn up in the next few days, or you should think of anything that might have bearing, please let me know.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll do that, of course,\u201d Peter agreed. \u201cAnd do take the notes, by all means. <\/p>\n

In your hands they may do some good.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI devoutly hope so,\u201d Adam said. In his own mind was the thought that if Nathan was to rest easy in his grave, he and McLeod were going to have their work cut out for them.<\/p>\n

Back at the Fiennes home afterwards, where many of those present at the funeral had retired to offer their condolences and share a light repast of bagels and coffee, Adam excused himself to go upstairs and pack, then moved into Nathan\u2019s study where, after packing up the rest of Nathan\u2019s notes in a briefcase he found there, he rang McLeod at his office, charging the call to his home number.\u00a0 <\/span>\u201cHullo, Noel,\u201d he said without further preamble. \u201cAny progress on Gerard?\u201d \u201cA bit – for all it\u2019s worth,\u201d McLeod said without enthusiasm. \u201cThe address and telephone number we found for him are good, but Gerard isn\u2019t there. To make a long story short, he\u2019s supposedly gone off to Cyprus on a four-week camping holiday.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat\u2019s convenient.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, I thought so,\u201d McLeod agreed sourly. \u201cAccording to my friend Treville, our boy purchased a round-trip air ticket to Nicosia and picked it up from the travel agent\u2019s on Monday of last week. He paid for it with a credit card. His bank records show that he drew a substantial amount of money from his standing account the selfsame day.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHow substantial?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNearly ten thousand pounds – more than he\u2019d need for any camping holiday,\u201d McLeod replied. \u201cBut Gerard is known to be a collector of antiquities. It could be argued that he simply wanted to have sufficient cash on hand, in case he ran across any irresistible finds while on holiday. Treville\u2019s men are still trying to find out if he bought any camping gear recently, but again it could be argued that he already had what he needed in the way of kit. So you be the judge.\u201d \u201cIf it\u2019s a cover story, it\u2019s a reasonably useful one,\u201d Adam allowed. \u201cI wouldn\u2019t fancy having to track down the whereabouts of a camper on the move. Has anyone verified that Gerard actually made the trip?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTreville had Interpol check it out,\u201d McLeod said, \u201cand they checked with the Cypriot authorities. Both the airline and the passport-control people show in their records that on Wednesday the eleventh, a Monsieur Henri Gerard got on the plane in Paris and got off again in Cyprus. But you and I both know that doesn\u2019t necessarily mean anything. With enough cash and a forged passport, our boy could have bought another ticket out to London within hours of his arrival on Cypriot soil, and departed thence without anyone in Nicosia being the wiser.\u201d \u201cSo much for that lead, then,\u201d Adam replied. \u201cWhat next?\u201d \u201cOh, I\u2019m not finished,\u201d McLeod said. \u201cBearing in mind what Peter Fiennes said about Gerard being something of a nutter, I asked Treville if he\u2019d get somebody to look into Gerard\u2019s psychological background. He made the inquiries himself, and it turns out that our boy has a history of emotional instability. His colleagues in French antiquarian circles say that Gerard\u2019s interest in the Knights Templar amounts to something of an obsession; he\u2019s fanatically convinced that all the charges laid against them were true, and has set himself to prove as much. He bases this assertion on the belief that he is, in fact, the present-day incarnation of a medieval French nobleman who lived to witness those events.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cVery interesting,\u201d Adam murmured. \u201cVery interesting, indeed. If there\u2019s more to this assertion than mere romantic fantasy, it could explain a great deal. I\u2019d be curious to know whether or not he has a psychic past. If his interest in Nathan\u2019s Seal dates back to a previous lifetime, we may be dealing with someone far more dangerous than a mere eccentric.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat was my thought too,\u201d McLeod replied. \u201cI don\u2019t suppose you\u2019ve had any more insights about the Seal itself? What it was for, and so on?\u201d \u201cNot yet, but I\u2019m working on it. I had an interesting dream that I\u2019ll tell you about when I get back. Meanwhile, I think it might be safest if we proceed on the assumption that Gerard is actually here on British soil. At very least, I\u2019d like to know what he tells the York Police about his movements two days ago, if they can turn him up. Have you relayed your information to the authorities here in York?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll the conventional information, yes. And Treville is faxing me a photo later on. What do you want to do about the other?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust sit tight until I get home,\u201d Adam replied. \u201cDid you send those printouts to the house?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, Donald\u2019s just gotten back. I took the liberty of having him deliver the packet to Peregrine, with instructions to read it, if he had a chance, and see what kinds of cold impressions he might get. You don\u2019t mind, do you?\u201d \u201cOf course not. I should have thought of that myself. I have the feeling we\u2019re going to need him on this, before it goes much farther.\u201d He glanced at his pocket watch. \u201cAnything else? I ought to head downstairs and be sociable for a little while before Peter runs me to the airport.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo. Talk to you when you get home.\u201d<\/p>\n

The Edinburgh flight out of Leeds left at 5:50. This time, as well as his overnight bag, Adam had a leather briefcase crammed full of Nathan\u2019s research notes. He arrived to find no Humphrey waiting at the gate, but as he came out of the terminal building, he spotted his silver-blue Range Rover standing by at the curb with Humphrey at the wheel.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m afraid I misjudged the traffic, sir,\u201d Humphrey said, as he alighted to open the back so Adam could toss in his meagre luggage. \u201cI would have met you at the gate as I usually do, but I only just got here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot to worry, Humphrey. Let\u2019s swing by police headquarters so I can pick up the Jag.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cVery good, sir.\u201d<\/p>\n

They were home by a little after seven. After putting the Jaguar away and dropping off Nathan\u2019s briefcase in the library, Adam went upstairs for a quick shower while Humphrey took himself off to the kitchen to prepare a quick evening meal. Twenty minutes later, refreshed and relaxed in a clean white shirt and grey slacks under his quilted blue dressing gown, he was heading back down to the library to sort through the mail on his desk before eating.\u00a0 <\/span>Most of the mail was not urgent, but one item, in particular, caught his attention – a formal invitation printed on stiff cream card stock, with the shield of the present-day Order of the Temple of Jerusalem emblazoned at its head. He gazed at it for several seconds, absently running a thumb over the raised engraving, then picked up the telephone at his elbow and tapped in the number printed below the line that read, RSVP Chev. Stuart MacRae. He knew MacRae through their mutual interest in restoring castles. MacRae lived in a partially restored castle farther to the east, near Glenrothes, and had been giving Adam ongoing advice on the restoration of Templemor. He was also an expert on Templar history.<\/p>\n

\u201cHello, Stuart, this is Adam Sinclair,\u201d Adam said, when the hearty bass voice of MacRae himself answered the phone. \u201cI hope I\u2019m not interrupting your dinner.\u201d \u201cNot at all!\u201d came MacRae\u2019s genial reply. \u201cI was hoping I\u2019d hear from you soon. <\/p>\n

Did you receive your invitation to the investiture?\u201d \u201cI did, indeed,\u201d Adam said. \u201cForgive me for not getting back to you sooner, but I was called away unexpectedly on Monday, and I\u2019ve only just gotten back. I\u2019ll try to make it on Saturday, but a lot depends on how things have gone at the hospital while I was away. I haven\u2019t even checked in yet. I\u2019m not sure I want to know.\u201d<\/p>\n

A hearty chuckle erupted from MacRae\u2019s end of the line. \u201cI can appreciate that,\u201d he replied. \u201cBut don\u2019t worry about us. Come if you can – and if you can\u2019t, then send your good wishes. I still keep hoping that, since you\u2019re restoring a Templar castle, we\u2019ll eventually be able to persuade you to join the Order.\u201d \u201cWell, I\u2019m honored that you keep asking, but I already have too many claims on my time,\u201d Adam replied easily. \u201cHowever, you may certainly count me as a friend of the Order. And I hope to affirm that friendship in person on Saturday.\u201d \u201cWell, so do I.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIn the meantime, I\u2019m calling because I\u2019ve got something of a mystery on my hands,\u201d Adam went on. \u201cIt has to do with Templar history, and I\u2019m hoping you may be able to give me some information.\u201d<\/p>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n

\n

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Book Preview Katherine Kurtz – Adept 03 – The Templar Treasure \u00a0 \u00a0 \u00a0 A SECRET BROTHERHOOD. AN ANCIENT EVIL\u2026 Mystic and historian, Sir Adam Sinclair is Master of the Hunt, leader of a secret brotherhood at war with the dark and unholy Powers that menace our world.\u00a0 Now an urgent summons sets the Adept … Read more<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":6490,"comment_status":"","ping_status":"","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[427],"class_list":["post-6491","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized","tag-katherine-kurtz"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6491","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6491"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6491\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/6490"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6491"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6491"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/epub-book.com\/download\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6491"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}