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Thomas paced back and forth in front of a warm fire in the library of the Rosicrucian Order’s retreat center in Freiburg, Germany.
“The Vatican had the crystal and now it doesn’t. Do you think the crystal might have changed hands during the war?”
Franz Maier, the archivist, sat back in his armchair. “That is a distinct possibility. There is someone we can check with. Gustav Kepler knows the Third Reich’s metaphysical archives better than anyone. I’ll call him.”
Thomas let out a sigh. “You don’t know how grateful I am, Franz. It’s vital we bring all the crystals to Egypt by February first. If we don’t find all the crystals, the world will remain in darkness for thousands of years.”
“I don’t know about you, but I’ve had enough of it. I’m ready for the promised dawn,” Franz said. His urbane tone stopped Thomas in his tracks.
“I’m taking this too seriously, am I?”
“It’s as serious as, how do you Americans say, a heart attack?”
“Yes,” Thomas said.
“But you are well trained, my friend. You must not focus on defeat.”
Thomas squared his shoulders. “Point well taken.”
Franz stood. “Our library is at your disposal, as are all the considerable resources of our order.”
Thomas felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Thank you, my friend.”
“I’ll go make that call.” Franz left the library, closing the door softly behind him.
Thomas walked over to a desk by the window and placed his index finger on the security reader. It scanned his print. Such state-of-the-art technology seemed anachronistic in this centuries-old castle, but the place had been tastefully renovated. He was grateful for the modern plumbing.
Within seconds, the computer granted him access to the archives and he typed in his first search term. In a flicker of light, a list of all the scanned documents containing the word popped up on the screen. Thomas clicked the first and started to read. He spent the greater part of the morning in this manner. Not once did his fingers touch the fragile scrolls or handwritten books of the collection.
He found the history of the Rosicrucians’ crystal, the one Michael Levy carried, along with several accounts of the two keys guarded by the Templars. The story of the torture and murder of Jacques de Molay made for gruesome reading, but his suspicions were confirmed. The order had decided to leave some artifacts for the church to confiscate, hoping they wouldn’t realize the bulk of the Templar treasure had already been taken to Scotland. He found no mention of the stone after its capture.
Around eleven, Thomas sat before the computer screen, but stared out at the bare trees in the park beyond the windows.
“Gustav can see us tonight.”
Thomas looked up from his reverie, surprised he hadn’t heard Franz approach. “Excellent. Did he say anything?”
“I didn’t want to broach the subject on the phone, but he knows our visit concerns the Nazi archives. Any luck?”
“My suspicions about why the order allowed the church to take the crystal were right,” he said. “Otherwise, nothing.”
“Too bad, but we both suspected this would be the case. I was going for my daily constitutional and wondered if you’d care to join me.”
Within five minutes, the two men were walking along a paved path that took them through the estate’s formal garden. The only green spots were the box hedges and evergreen trees in the distance. They followed the path through an arched gate into an extensive herb garden, now a series of brown beds marked with black metal signs carrying the names of various plants.
Thomas broached a new topic. “I’ve heard now from two sources about a legend concerning another of the keys.”
“Yes?” Franz tucked his nose under his muffler for a moment to warm up.
“It concerns Akhenaten’s mother, Tiye. The story goes that one of Tiye’s relatives took the key to wisdom back to the mountains when he left Amarna after Akhenaten’s death.”
“Sounds vague.”
“So many of the clues concerning the keys are vague. My own family legend only states that the crystal will be used to restore the flow. What flow, how, and where have remained a mystery for centuries. We’ve just now confirmed the place is Egypt, probably the Giza plateau, and the time is in approximately two weeks.”
“‘The key to wisdom,’” Franz repeated. “‘Restore the flow.’ Tantalizing phrases. Do you think the mountains refer to the Himalayas?”
“I believe so. The best evidence suggests Amenhotep, Son of Hapi, who was one of Ahkenaten’s teachers, came from the north of India or perhaps Tibet.”
“If it’s Tibet, we may have difficulty. The Chinese have destroyed many temples along with their libraries. Scores of monks have been murdered. The sect with the information you’re looking for may be almost gone.”
“You’re right. I just hope the cosmic forces will lead me to the right person.”
“We have a few houses in that area. We’ll contact them and see if they have any information.”
Thomas stopped and turned to Franz. “Thank you, my brother. Without your help . . .” He turned his palms up.
“We’re committed to the same fight. It is my deep honor to assist the bloodline.”
“As it is my duty to serve,” Thomas replied.
☥☥☥
That same morning in Cairo, Karl Mueller stood outside Mr. Spender’s door, bracing himself. Spender had ordered him to secure a second crystal for another test and he’d failed. So far. He’d badly underestimated the Le Clair security team. Even Anne, as it turned out, could hold her own, at least against the locals he’d hired. Another miscalculation. He thought the local team would escape Arnold’s notice. That part had worked. As for the rest, they’d botched the job. Those men would never work for him again. Or anyone else, for that matter. Next time he’d take care of the bitch himself.
Mueller took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Spender glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t stop what he was doing. A bad sign. General Ahmed sat in one of the chairs in front of Spender’s desk. Mueller stood and waited for his boss to deign to notice him.
After several minutes, Spender said, “Take a seat.”
Mueller obeyed instantly. Attitude was for amateurs.
“I’ve invested a good deal of money in your training, Mr. Mueller. However, we do have extensive resources at our command. Can you tell me why I should keep you alive?”
“The mission has experienced setbacks,” Mueller began.
“Setbacks are one thing. Failure is quite another.” Spender’s voice was flat. “I expect a precise report.”
“Yes, sir.” Mueller tightened his stomach and began again. “I failed to retrieve a second crystal, as instructed. After searching the rooms of all the subjects, it was determined they were carrying them on their persons.”
Spender took a breath.
Anticipating his objection, Mueller continued. “They did not put them in the hotel safe or rent any boxes in a bank. Nor did they leave them in Cairo. I’m certain of that.”
Spender took out a cigar and put the tip in the cutter, then looked up.
“The Le Clair security team is top-flight, so I subcontracted with a local terrorist cell to take a crystal.”
Spender cut the tip of the cigar and smiled. His eyes remained cold.
“Our intel did not indicate that Anne Le Clair had any martial arts training. As it turned out, she was skilled enough to slow the team down and her security reached her in time.”
Spender lit his cigar. The click of the lighter closing sounded loud in Mueller’s ears. Spender took a leisurely puff, then took the cigar out of his mouth and admired it under the light. He looked up and said, “Go on.”
“Given this new information, the plan is to take the Jew’s stone. He returns tonight.”
“What do you think, Ahmed?”
“Let’s try with two crystals this time,” the general said.
“I agree,” Spender said. “Swap Marchant’s stone with our duplicate again. Perhaps the crystal is coded to its Keeper in some way. Two that we know of have been passed down in families. It could be the DNA has some effect.”
“This may be,” Ahmed said, “but what about Marchant’s stone? Didn’t his family recently acquire it?”
“The family had ancestors who were Templars. The father said he was reclaiming a family heirloom.”
Ahmed nodded.
Spender turned to Mueller. “Get a DNA sample from both.”
“That’s already taken care of, sir.”
Spender raised an eyebrow in inquiry.
“I took samples from Marchant when we had dinner together.”
“Good. And Levy?”
“I can get a sample when I steal his crystal.”
“I don’t have to tell you this is your last chance, do I?” Spender crushed the expensive cigar in the ashtray on his desk.
“No sir.” Mueller stood, and his body automatically snapped to attention. “Will that be all, sir?”
Spender regarded him like a snake watches a frog. “For now.”
☥☥☥
“This morning we finish our initiations in the south,” Tahir said. “We fly back to Cairo this evening.”
Anne squinted at him over the rim of her coffee cup. They’d stayed up almost all night deciphering the granite tablet. Around three o’clock, Tahir had suggested they get a few hours’ sleep. He’d roused them shortly after dawn, looking calm and rested. She was beginning to believe that Egyptians didn’t need sleep.
She climbed into the cruise boat they were docked next to, by now an expert at negotiating the ramps. Michael ran up behind her and together they hurried through the lobbies of several more ships, their crowds of tourists just eating breakfast. When Anne and Michael reached the dock, they ran up the stone steps to street level. Anne heard Arnold calling her name, but she didn’t look back. On the street, Michael grabbed the first carriage, an older two-seater pulled by a contented chestnut. They drove off, relishing their rebellion.
Anne snuggled under Michael’s arm and half-listened to his sightseeing commentary.
They arrived at Karnak too quickly. Michael paid the driver; then they walked arm in arm down to the temple gates and waited like commoners of old. Five minutes later, Arnold and Tahir arrived in another carriage, and Arnold stalked up to Anne, frowning deeply.
“What was that stunt all about? Just because Michael has been cleared doesn’t mean you can go gallivanting off alone with him. You are still in danger.”
Anne was grateful when Tahir showed up brandishing their tickets. “We shall approach the Holy of Holies in silence,” he said and walked off, effectively silencing Arnold.
The group followed behind him like a row of ducklings.
Anne gazed up at the obelisks rising behind the rows of columns, all deeply engraved with various Neters she couldn’t make out yet. After the psychic experience she’d had in Dendara yesterday, she didn’t expect much from today’s initiation. Her usual pattern was a few days of quiet. She’d be lucky if she even felt the spiral of energy that usually answered Tahir’s chant.
Tahir veered off toward the left, walking across a span of sand and rock. She glanced down to be careful of her footing, and when she raised her eyes again she saw a woman walking toward her from the temple, dressed in long flowing robes and carrying a basket of flowers.
“Welcome home,” the woman said.
Anne looked into the woman’s face and recognized—herself.
Suddenly, the temple walls blossomed with color, the trees leafed in an instant, and the sand turned green beneath her now sandaled feet. Around a corner, the scent of flowers from a verdant garden filled the air. Water splashed in a fountain and a woman sitting on a bench looked up at her and smiled. Their group of four in the present was joined by a long procession of men and women in the past, all carrying baskets overflowing with red, yellow, pink, and blue blossoms, all chanting in a complex harmony that pebbled Anne’s flesh. Brilliantly colored birds flew among them and perched in the trees, adding their song. The chant was but one part of the deep harmony, the complete openness of one heart to another, the perfect accord of that community of many that was one.
Tears flowed unchecked down Anne’s face as she walked in both times, reliving the age when they had all lived in full consciousness, open to the singing birds, the shining faces of the flowers, the majestic river slowly winding through the land, the Sun beaming down on his Earth, the galaxies swinging in great spirals, and all life, here and in the higher frequencies, creating a great symphony of oneness.
Now they all made their way through a corridor formed by stone columns, a soft dun in the present-day sun, leaping with color in the past. They approached a sanctuary. Anne passed the flat, dusty altar outside the shrine, went through the entry room and into the chamber on the right. There she stood beneath a pinprick in the limestone ceiling illuminating the face of the Neter Sekhmet. But Anne did not see the statue. She saw the Neter herself, gazing down through layers of space and time, a look of deep compassion on her face.
Anne’s knees buckled. She fell at the great one’s feet and wept. From her poured all the pain of separation she’d ever felt in this life. The perfect peace of the past filled her and covered the cuts and bruises like a golden unguent, healing in an instant all the aches, all the fears, all the yearnings for what she could never name until now.
Stand up, dear one. Sekhmet’s voice was a golden bell in her mind.
Anne rose.
Let me bless the key.
She took the necklace from its hiding place and laid it on the flat top of the lotus staff that ended just under the goddess’s breasts, in the fierce heart of the great lioness.
Take my hands.
Anne placed her flesh hands over the stone hands of the Neter and closed her eyes. From somewhere far above, an enormous river of light flooded the chamber. Anne felt as if she were standing in a column of honey, thick and golden, vibrating with the voices of a thousand bees.
When time began again, Sekhmet spoke her blessing: Go and awaken the world.
Anne took her crystal and stepped back, only now seeing the dark granite statue with the lioness face topped by the solar disk. She turned and noticed Tahir and Michael standing near the back wall of the chamber, both their faces wet with tears. Anne knew what to do next. She walked up and escorted Michael to the feet of the Neter, then withdrew. Michael placed his key in the same niche and Anne felt the portal open again. She closed her eyes and watched the great lioness bless her son. Then Tahir took his place and again the golden radiance filled the chamber.
When Tahir finally stepped away from the statue, Anne turned and walked back through the entry room into a second chamber on the left of the shrine. In the past, a gold statue stood there, cloaked in something. She looked closer and saw the figure was wrapped in his own wings. Individual, exquisitely carved feathers gleamed under the pinprick of light. In the present, the room was cold and empty, filled only with dust.
“Where is he?” Anne turned to Tahir.
“He is gone now. The Christians or the Muslims”—he shrugged as if it didn’t matter which—“destroyed the statue long ago.”
“Ptah?” Michael asked.
Tahir nodded. “Pater to the Romans, our father. And Sekhmet, the Power.”
Anne knew she was ready.
☥☥☥
That evening as Anne, Michael, and Tahir boarded a plane for Cairo, Thomas and Franz sat in the comfortable home of Gustav Kepler. Gustav was a much older man than Thomas had expected, well into his nineties. He wore a velvet smoking jacket. The skin on his hands was almost transparent with age, as thin as onionskin paper, but he still had a full head of wispy white hair that framed his face in a wild cloud reminiscent of Einstein. Gustav was attended by a granddaughter who tucked a blanket around his legs. He bore the fuss with dignity. She placed a bell beside the old man, said something to him in German, and left.
When the door clicked shut, Franz leaned forward slightly and spoke loudly. “Gustav, let me introduce Thomas Le Clair from the American family.”
Thomas took the old man’s hand. “It is an honor to meet you, sir.”
“The honor is mine, Mr. Le Clair.” Gustav’s voice was worn with years of use, but his eyes were bright. “It is a rare pleasure to serve the bloodline.”
Thomas had a fleeting wish for the anonymity he enjoyed at home. “We all serve the light, sir. Please, call me Thomas.”
“Please, please, sit down.” Gustav gestured toward a sofa and another armchair forming a semicircle in front of the fire his granddaughter had settled him next to.
Thomas sat across from Gustav and Franz settled on the sofa.
“How may I help you?” Gustav asked.
Franz nodded for Thomas to take the lead.
“Franz tells me that you’re an expert on the metaphysical holdings of the SS.”
Gustav studied Thomas for a long moment. “You want to know, but are too polite to ask, if I was a member of the SS.”
Thomas felt his cheeks growing warm. “I apologize for not controlling my thoughts more carefully.”
Gustav dismissed Thomas’s apology with a wave of his hand. “It is a legitimate question. The SS was a group of the blackest magicians the world has ever seen.” He sat back in his chair. “I was born in Munich and, just after the first war, I became involved in a group exploring metaphysics. I was a teenager. Himmler, who was older than I, recognized my talent.”
“You knew Himmler personally?”
“Oh, yes,” Gustav said. “I was his protégé for about a year, but as I progressed, I began to realize my mentor lacked a proper understanding of the work, so I left the group and looked elsewhere for teachers. Several years later, I became a Rosicrucian.”
“How fortunate you escaped.”
Gustav nodded. “Yes, I am grateful I had the courage to break from him. But . . .” He held up a finger. “. . . when the Thule Group gained political influence, a decision was taken to place an agent in their midst. I was the perfect candidate.”
“That must have been difficult.”
“It was only through divine protection that I was able to complete my task.”
“So you approached Himmler?”
Gustav’s eyes had a look of sadness. “My task was to convince Himmler I’d had a change of heart. And I was able to do so. He never let me into the heart of the group, thank God. Imagine what I would have been forced to participate in. I’m still burdened by the thought of how many I might have saved.”
“Your work was invaluable in bringing down the Third Reich,” Franz said in a strong voice. “We can only be grateful that you were willing to pay the price.”
Gustav reached over and pressed Franz’s hand, then continued. “I helped organize the Thule Group’s records and I smuggled out a copy. Those have been left with me, but on my death will go to the order.”
Franz nodded. “We are grateful.”
Gustav turned to Thomas, “So I ask again, how may I help you?”
“I am searching for an artifact, a crystal necklace once in the possession of the Templars but sacrificed on Black Friday to the church. We’ve determined the necklace is no longer in the possession of the Vatican.”
“And you want to know if the Reich took it?”
“Exactly.” Thomas settled back in his chair.
“This necklace, can you describe it?”
“I’ve never seen it myself, but records say it is a small point, maybe three inches long, topped with a was design worked in gold.”
Gustav’s eyes widened. “A was design?”
“Yes, the crystal was originally from Egypt and we think the original design it bore has been continued.”
“I know this necklace.”
“Yes?” Thomas sat forward eagerly.
“Indeed. According to the archives, Himmler had it for some time. I always wondered why he bothered with it. I never found any information about its virtues.”
“It is one of a set of six crystals. One, topped with a fleur-de-lis, has been entrusted to my own family. Our legend tells us it is to be used to ‘restore the flow.’”
Gustav sat forward, his eyes bright again.
“The second is held by a Levy.”
“Ah, the priesthood,” Gustav breathed.
“We believe so. I’m told it’s topped by a Star of David. A third never left Egypt. I don’t know its emblem. I haven’t been able to locate the other three, but written records say the Vatican held one. Another legend suggests that a fifth crystal, called the ‘key to wisdom,’ was taken to the East by one of Tiye’s relatives. The sixth seems completely lost.”
“An intriguing story,” Gustav said. “I appreciate your trust. Have you been able to find more about what these crystals do?”
Thomas crossed his legs. “My family has always believed they form a key to something that has been locked away, hidden at the setting of the sun to be brought to light with the dawn.”
“You think the time is now?”
“Astrological evidence suggests the time is February first.”
Yes?” Gustav sat back, a frown on his face. “A new age is upon us, but who can say how long the transition will take. Greed and violence have not abated. Do you not fear whatever you uncover will fall into the wrong hands? The Reich only sailed across the ocean.”
“You are right, sir. Dark magicians are still among us, and yet the signs have been frequent. I feel a deep urgency to find the other stones. We believe these keys are a vital part of restoring the light. We fear if we do not restore the flow, the Earth may remain in darkness for an entire cycle.”
The three fell silent, the only sound the crackling of burning wood. Thomas shifted in his chair. A log on the fire popped.
Finally, Gustav spoke. “This we must prevent.” He pulled a key from the pocket of his jacket and pointed to a large desk on the other side of the room. “The bottom drawer on the left.”
Franz found a drawer full of files.
“The fourth one back.”
Franz retrieved the file and gave it to Gustav, who put on a thick pair of reading glasses and began to go through the papers.
Thomas sat forward and took a deep breath.
Finally, the old man pulled a single sheet out and held it under the lamp beside him. “This particular crystal was taken by U.S. Intelligence.”
“Damn,” Thomas blurted out. “Then the Illuminati must have it.”
“An officer by the name of Marchant.”
“Who?” Thomas sat bolt upright.
“A Gary Marchant. Claimed his family had Templar roots and had been searching for the stone since it was lost.” Gustav studied Thomas’s face. “You know something of this man?”
“I know one of his descendants. He lectures on sacred geometry, has written a book on Egypt. To think the crystal was right under my nose.” He stood and started to pace in front of the fire.
“This does not seem to be good news.”
Thomas turned. “I don’t trust him. Never have.”
“Where is he now?”
A slow smile broke across Thomas’s face. “In Egypt, lecturing at a conference.”
“It would seem, Mr. Le Clair, you have located your fourth crystal and it is exactly where it should be.”