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PAT HALTED BESIDE the edge of the rocky cliff, sat on a rock, slipped off his rucksack and pulled out three bottles of beer. Ben and Creed arrived a few moments later, finally catching up with the German who had climbed up the side of Pech Cardou with the agility of a mountain goat. Breathing heavily from the climb, they slipped off their rucksacks and chose suitable rocks to sit on for a much-needed rest.
“Ben.”
Ben looked at Pat and saw a bottle of beer flying towards him. He caught it moments before it struck him in the face. Creed, better prepared, grabbed the beer Pat flung in his direction more easily.
Ben gazed down at the road far below, no wider than a line drawn on a map. “I can't believe you carried beer up here.”
Pat twisted off the lid from his bottle and smiled. “We needed something to celebrate our finding of the Temple. I also packed a few extras to keep us going until we reach it.”
Ben shook his head, opened his beer and took a long swig. “I must say, I'm glad you did, it's refreshing after the long climb.”
Creed wholeheartedly agreed, thoroughly enjoying the liquid refreshment still cold from Pat's fridge.
Luckily, the cloudy sky held at bay the sun's hot rays and made the climb up the mountain less torturous than it might have been in the intense heat.
Pat reached out, and they all clinked bottles to toast the adventure ahead of them. “Here's to the Temple and the secrets inside.”
“The Temple,” said Ben and Creed together.
Creed glanced around the top of the mountain but saw no evidence of a cave. “How much farther before we reach the entrance?”
“We're almost there.” Pat pointed to the edge of the rocky outcrop. “We climb down to a ledge that leads to the cave.”
The two men walked over to investigate. The side of the mountain sloped steeply for about five meters to a meter-wide ledge before dropping into the valley below.
Pat noticed their worried expressions. “It's not as bad as it looks.”
Neither Ben nor Creed were convinced or reassured.
After they finished their beers, Pat placed the empty bottles in his rucksack and after slipping it back on, crouched at the top of the steep slope. “Copy me, and you'll be okay.” He pushed himself over the edge.
It wasn't the slow and steady descent the two men watching had visualized. Pat slid down the steep slope on the soles of his boots. Earth and rocks, disturbed by his passing, followed in his wake. When he was about to slide over the top and plummet to the valley floor far below, he grabbed hold of a small tree growing on the edge and swung around. For a few seconds, his body hung over the void before his feet landed on solid ground again. He smiled up at his two astonished watchers. “It's that easy. Who's next?”
Ben turned to Creed. “After you.”
“Cheers.” Creed sat at the top of the slope and glanced down.
“It's not as difficult as it looks,” said Ben, grinning.
Creed glanced at Ben and pushed himself off. His decent was much slower than the mad German's. He used shrubs and overhanging tree branches to check his speed and arrived on the narrow ledge safely.
Ben opted for Creed's safer method of descent. When he arrived at the bottom, he peered down the long drop and shook his head. A glance along the ledge revealed no sign of Pat. “Where did the crazy German disappear to?”
Creed pointed along the ledge to a rocky outcrop. “He went ahead to secure a climbing rope.”
“Witnessing his technique to get down here, I'm surprised he uses a rope.”
“That's what worries me,” Creed said. “If he's using a rope it must be dangerous.”
They went to catch up with Pat to find out.
A short walk along the small ledge took them around the outcrop onto a sloped patch of shrubs and trees nestled between two large outcrops of rock. They headed for the sounds of Pat moving amongst the undergrowth. Ben pushed through the foliage and found his foot treading on thin air. Creed quickly grabbed his arm and stopped him from falling. They both stared at the deep black hole, the surrounding undergrowth almost hiding its existence altogether.
Pat's face appeared through the bushes opposite. “Watch your step, it's a long drop.”
Ben shook his head. “I could have done with the warning a little earlier.”
They circumnavigated the hole to find Pat had anchored a rope to a thick tree. After testing it was secure, he walked over to the opening and dropped the remaining coil of rope into its depths. All three slipped on a harness and Pat passed around the belay devices to attach to the rope when it was their turn to descend.
Pat handed Ben the belay attachment. “Do you know how to use this?”
Ben nodded.
Bottles clinked together when Pat slipped on his rucksack and backed up to the hole. “I'll go down first as I know what's ahead.”
Creed slipped off his rucksack. “Ben can come next, and I'll bring up the rear.” He fished out two headband lights and passed one to Ben.
They had brighter torches if needed, but for now, the smaller headlights provided sufficient light and left their hands free.
Pat switched on his headlight and stepped over the edge. His feet searched for footholds in the rough rocky sides of the deep shaft. Within seconds, he had disappeared into the darkness. When he reached the bottom twenty meters below the surface, he released himself from the rope and glanced up the two-meter wide shaft. “Okay, I'm down.”
Ben's silhouetted form appeared in the sunlit opening when he began his descent. While he waited for the others to arrive, Pat shone his torch into the long tunnel and walked forward a short distance to check the way hadn't been blocked by a cave-in since his last visit. As far as his light could reach, the passage was clear.
On reaching solid ground once again, Ben released himself from the rope and called up to Creed to let him know he'd reached the bottom. Creed rapidly descended the shaft and joined them.
Pat led the way through the narrow tunnel to the next hole they would have to descend to reach the heart of the mountain. Creed took a rope from his rucksack and handed it to Pat, who pulled a loose rock from the cave wall to reveal an iron ring fixed securely into the rock. Pat secured the rope through the ring and began his descent. Creed and Ben followed him down.
The lower level tunnel was slighter larger than the one above, giving them more room to maneuver as Pat led them deeper into the mountain. After traveling about sixty meters, Pat halted and slipped off his rucksack.
Ben was disappointed to see the tunnel blocked with damp earth and rocks and assumed it was the reason why Pat had stopped. The passage was wet in places, and the walls and floor were covered in mud.
“What do we do now, Pat?”
Pat glanced at Ben, who looked worriedly at the blocked tunnel. “It's okay. The way ahead isn't the way we go.”
Ben's eyes searched the tunnel for another opening but found none. “What do you mean?” he asked, confused. “What other way is there?”
“Pass me the shovel, and I'll reveal all.” The German grinned, cryptically.
Ben slipped off his rucksack, took out the fold-up shovel and handed it to Pat, curious to see what he would do.
The German moved slowly along the tunnel tapping the damp mud-covered wall with the edge of the shovel’s blade. The sound of the metal striking rock echoed along the passage, and then it changed. The shovel no longer struck rock, but damp earth. Pat set about prizing off lumps of mud with the shovel. Ben grabbed a second shovel from his rucksack and copied the German. Chunks of sticky mud were thrown along the tunnel by the rock fall. Unexpectedly, a clang reverberated along the passage when metal struck metal. Excited by what was about to be revealed, Ben and Creed observed Pat clearing a small patch. Three beams of light settled on what had been uncovered; bronze metal etched with symbols. Though some still remained hidden by the mud and a few others only partially revealed, Ben recognized the few visible matched the symbols from the parchment.
“It's the door!” Ben exclaimed.
Creed touched the cold metal and trailed his fingers over the mudded symbols. “It's amazing.”
“But why hasn't it been discovered before?” asked Ben. “And how did you know it was here, Pat?”
Pat smiled. “It wasn't easy, but I had help.”
A worried frown creased Creed's brow. “Someone else knows about this entrance?”
“Yes and no. Let me explain. You've heard of De Cherisey, yes?”
“Plantard’s cohort,” Creed answered.
Ben had researched the man and his acquaintances and duly shared the information. “De Cherisey was involved with Pierre Plantard and the supposed Priory of Sion. They released some documents and among them were two parchments they claimed were copies of the messages Saunière discovered in his church,” Ben glanced at Creed. “As you know, for years they were thought to be genuine, but most serious researchers now believe them to be a hoax, me included.” Even more so since Creed had revealed his father had altered them.
“I wouldn't dismiss them so lightly, Ben,” stated Pat. “Although it's likely the documents Plantard possessed were not true to the originals, as it seems certain changes and additions were added, so the true solution could never be found, I believe part of the information is true.”
“You have Creed's father to thank for that,” Ben told him, “but I'll explain about that later, please continue.”
“It's not the parchments that led me here, but something De Cherisey wrote after he had a falling out with Plantard...”
“...Stone and Paper,” Ben interrupted.
“Correct. He wrote Stone and Paper in an attempt to discredit Plantard by saying it was he who had manufactured the parchments. However, after reading the document, it soon becomes obvious this isn't so. I don't think Plantard and De Cherisey had all the information, or if they did they were unaware of how to use it, which is probably why they included the parchments in Gerard de Sade's book; to see if someone else could solve the puzzle for them, but I'm wandering off track. The important information for now, as it will take too long to explain everything, is the part that helped me, this:
"The disposition of letters on document 1 represents the section of a mountain where the treasure cave is shown by an almost inaccessible hole. However, the pothole which hangs over the entrance to the cave gives INTROBIT IN DOMUM: he enters into the house. Thus, the treasure is both accessible and inaccessible, and this is also what Abbé Saunière signifies by his secret door in the sacristy, a very well arranged and obvious false door, which allows entrance to the secret room.
“That simply means that the cavern is damp enough for a mud wall to form continually after one has penetrated it. He who enters the cavern without being warned would think he was in a blind alley and not realize that all he had to do was to get the mud out of the way."
“Though I don't claim to understand how he knew this information, it exactly fits the entrance to this tunnel and this mud wall. When I first arrived at the rock fall you see ahead, I knew from Stone and Paper this was a ruse. Anyone who was oblivious to this knowledge would either try to remove the rocks to see if a way through lay behind them, or give up, as I probably would have. However, forewarned, I searched the mud-covered walls and found this doorway. As I said before, I was unable to gain entry because I lacked the information you have in the parchment from the tomb.”
“But why didn't you force your way through, cut through the door or something?”
“Good question, Creed, and don't think I hadn't thought about doing just that. What stopped me is that I believe the door is booby-trapped.” Pat pointed up at the tunnel roof. “You see the cracks running through the rock?”
The two men examined the long cracks through the rock directly above them and took a step back.
Pat continued with his explanation. “I think if the correct key isn't used to open the door, the tunnel roof will collapse, killing anyone unlucky enough to be standing here and in the process seal the door forever. That's why I decided to wait. As I said before, I had a feeling that someday the key would come to me, and now it has.”
“Wow!” exclaimed Ben. “The information was there all the time. It's amazing, and a shame I can't put this in my book.”
Pat laughed. “The infamous book by Ben Harper, how many years is it now since you first advertised it?”
“Just over seven now,” Ben laughed, “but it's not my fault I keep finding new stuff to include. Come on, let's uncover this door. I want to see what it leads to. I can smell another chapter.”
“That will make three, then,” Creed quipped.
The three men laughed as they set to clearing away the rest of the mud concealing the metal door. Within thirty minutes the door was revealed. Although still stained with streaks of dirt and covered in blotchy patches of green patina, the symbols etched into the metal were clearly visible. All three stared at the marvelous sight. The outline of the door was easily discerned in its metal frame by the thin joint around its circumference. The twenty-two symbols, each slightly raised on square blocks of metal, were distributed over the door's surface in what seemed to be in no particular order or design. The blocks reminded Ben of the letter blocks he had come across in the catacombs beneath Rosslyn Chapel, so he was careful not to press any when he ran his fingers over their cold metal details, leaving behind finger trails in the mud tarnished surface.
“The Knights Templar must have built this,” Ben said, admiring their outstanding ability to create these types of complicated mechanisms.
Pat nodded in agreement. “If my theory's right, what's on the other side was started hundreds of years before the Templars were formed; they just finished it off, and no doubt added their particular brand of improvements, like this door for instance.”
Intrigued by his comment, Ben dragged his eyes away from the door and looked at Pat. “Tell me more.”
Pat laughed. “One chapter at a time, let's get inside first.”
Ben produced the parchment and held it in the light of his headlamp so they could all see. Although the block of symbols on it matched some of the symbols on the door, these ones were set in a 3 x 3 grid, making a group of nine blocks. The same number as the nine original Templars thought Ben. The door's twenty-two different symbols, spread out in no order, made it impossible to haphazardly guess the correct sequence. Glancing from the parchment symbols to the door symbols, Ben pointed at the block on the door corresponding to the symbol in the top left corner of the parchment's grid design.
“That's the first symbol to be pressed. We then follow the direction arrows on the parchment to the final symbol and ignore any symbol not mentioned in this parchment.”
Creed studied the parchment. “How do you know we have to start with that particular block in the grid, it's blank in the parchment?”
“Good point,” Ben agreed. “The clue is the actual design, it's the Alpha symbol. It means the beginning, and the last symbol, bottom right in the grid, also blank, must be the Omega...”
“...The end,” Creed interrupted.
“Correct.”
Creed looked at the Omega symbol on the door. “Okay, I'm convinced, what about you, Pat?”
“It seems logical to me.”
Ben took a deep breath. “Okay, let's open this door. Pat, as you were the one that discovered it, you can do the honors. I'll tell you what symbols to press in the correct order.”
Pat positioned himself in front of the door and Creed, and Ben moved a few paces back.
Pat glanced behind at the two men now a short distance back along the tunnel. “You'll have to speak up if I'm going to be able to hear you,” Pat quipped. “Any farther and you'll be back on the surface.”
Ben and Creed chuckled.
“We don't want to get in your way,” Ben explained, with a grin.
“There's no fear of that from that distance, and oh yeah,” he glanced up at the cave roof, “you'll probably be safe from any falling rocks if I press the wrong block. I don't suppose you'd thought of that.”
Ben couldn't help but smile. “Hadn't even crossed our minds.”
Pat muttered something in German, reached out a hand to touch the Alpha block, and glanced at the two men. “You ready?”
“To run, yes. Press the block,” Ben answered. He and Creed took another step back, both still chuckling.
Pat smiled. “English humor, very amusing.”
Pat applied pressure to the block, and though it resisted at first, it slowly sank into the metal slightly and produced a soft click, and then silence. He looked up at the large hanging rock. “So far so good. What's next?”
“Pentagram,” called out Ben, taking a cautious step closer.
Another click filled the passage when Pat pressed the indicated symbol.
Eight clicks later, Pat's hand hovered over the final block, the Omega symbol. His two companions, now confident they had the correct sequence, stood beside him.
“Here goes.” Pat pressed the Omega block.
The familiar click was followed by silence. Just as they thought it hadn't worked, a soft rumble gradually increased in volume as whatever mechanism they had set in motion performed the function it had so long ago been designed to carry out. As one, the three men stepped away from the door when the screeching of metal from its other side filled the tunnel. When it stopped, and silence reigned once more, Pat stepped forward and pushed on the door, it didn't budge. He applied more pressure with his shoulder and felt the door give a little. He grinned at the others. Words were not needed. Creed joined him, and together they pushed open the protesting door. Ben, excited about what they were about to discover, placed the parchment in his pocket and waited.
When the door was open wide enough for them to enter, they collected their rucksacks and with Pat leading the way, they stepped through the open doorway to their destiny or their death.
Unbeknown to the three men, their fate lay not through the doorway but would be decided by the person who had followed them into the mountain and had been watching them with interest for the past few minutes.
Raven switched on her torch set to its dim setting and silently approached the doorway. She peered inside to observe the three lights moving away until they disappeared from sight around a bend in the passage. When faint voices drifted from the entrance behind her, she halted her step through the doorway to follow the three men and hesitated for a moment. She turned away from the door and headed back along the passage to investigate the source of the unexpected voices.
––––––––
Marco gazed into the dark abyss and then at the rope leading into its depths he didn't relish climbing. He briefly pondered waiting above ground until the men they followed reappeared, but the uncertainty that they might leave by another exit caused him to immediately dismiss the thought. Another consideration was he would like to set eyes upon the fabled Temple if it existed and any relics or scrolls secreted there. Marco’s orders were clear. If anything he discovered posed a threat to the Church, they were to be destroyed or moved to a secure place—until their fate was decided—the Vatican secret archives. He turned away from the uninviting shaft to look at his twelve companions, who waited patiently for his decision. Each was armed with an identical weapon; an AK-47 assault rifle.
“We climb down,” Marco informed them. “The Church needs to know what is below. If the Temple exists all entrances must be sealed.”
The men, all members of Inquisition, known today as the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, accepted his decision without emotion or argument. Their mission was to stamp out heresy and protect the Church at any cost. The Church had labeled the three men they pursued as heretics and when they had outlived their usefulness―an event fast approaching―they would suffer the same fate as the millions of heretics before them, annihilation!
“Would you prefer to lead, Marco?” Domenico enquired.
Marco gazed at Domenico, uncertain if he'd detected a hint of mockery in the man's voice. He was well aware Domenico usually ruled the group under his own initiative and obeying orders from a novice such as him, hurt his pride. “No, three of you go down to check it's safe, if it is, I will follow.”
Irritated that he wasn't in charge of this mission, Domenico hid his sneer. He would have dynamited the entrance to trap them inside instead of entering to check the place out first. Then, any secrets down there would be buried forever. However, the decision was not his to make. Though Marco was weak and inexperienced in these matters, his own orders were clear. For now, the idiot was in charge, and he would follow his commands.
Domenico hoisted his heavy rucksack effortlessly onto his back, slipped his rifle over a shoulder and approached the long drop into the bowels of Pech Cardou. After ordering two of his men to follow, he grabbed hold of the rope and began his descent.
Raven moved back along the tunnel when the first man climbed down. From the snippets of conversation she had overheard, it seemed the man called Marco was in charge. His mention of the ‘Church’ was a clue to their employer. She was sure of their purpose; the Vatican wanted whatever had lain hidden for centuries down here spirited away or destroyed. The deaths of Ben and his two companions would also be part of their assignment. With no mention of her, it seemed her stealthy entry had paid off. She stepped through the doorway and went to see what Harper was up to. If anyone were going to kill him, it would be her. She would not show weakness again.
––––––––
The three beams from Ben's, Creed's and Pat's headlamps revealed the direction of the men's gaze as they walked through the dark passage. The tunnel, hewn from the rock into an arched passage about a meter wide and almost two meters high, gave them plenty of room to walk comfortably. The floor of the tunnel sloped down slightly and in places curved and twisted through the mountain, leaving the impression it was initially formed by nature and whoever had utilized it for their own purpose had enlarged it into the passage. After rounding yet another curve, they stepped into a larger space; a circular chamber about five meters across with a natural rock ceiling four meters above them. An entrance on the far side suggested the tunnel continued into the mountain. A round hole situated in the center became the focus of their attention. When they approached their torches highlighted the top of a circular stone staircase that spiraled down into darkness. The three men looked at each other, their faces bathed in each other's torchlight.
“Well, what are we waiting for?” said Creed. “We go down.”
“I think we should check out the other exit first,” Pat suggested. “It makes sense to check out each level as we come across them.”
“I agree,” said Ben. “If we do a systematic sweep of each level we won't miss anything.”
Pat led them across the room into the tunnel. After a change of direction, the passage sloped down until it opened into a small natural grotto whose crystal covered walls reflected their flashlights, producing hundreds of tiny light speckles. Stalagmites and stalactites adorned the cavern, some so old they had met to form ancient natural columns.
Pat crossed to the small pool on the far side of the chamber and dipped a hand in the crystal clear water. “It's cold.” He scooped some up to drink. “Not as good as beer, but almost as refreshing.”
“It probably provided a fresh water source for those who once inhabited this place during its construction,” Creed suggested.
The others walked over and peered into its depths. The bottom was only two meters below the surface.
Creed pointed at something below the surface. “Is that a tunnel?”
Pat and Ben joined Creed in looking at the underwater opening, a little less than a meter wide.
“I think it is. It probably leads to the River Sals,” Ben said. After all the twists and turns they'd taken, it was difficult to maintain his usually unfailing sense of direction.
“Or maybe another chamber,” Pat suggested.
“There's nothing else of interest here, so let's head back to the staircase.”
They followed Creed back along the tunnel and down the spiraling steps. During their descent they commented on the staircase, marveling at the effort it must have taken to chisel it out of the solid rock.
When they reached the bottom, the lights from their head torches roamed around the room similar in size and design to the one at the top of the staircase. The difference here was that as well as the steps they had just climbed down, there were three other exits.
“Which one do we enter first?” asked Pat as he crossed over and peered into each tunnel in turn, but gained no insight as to what or where they led. “They're all more-or-less identical.”
Ben took out the parchment and examined the map. He ran a finger along the route they had taken to arrive at this point. His finger paused on the room they now stood in with the three tunnels leading off. “We take the middle one but go slow as there's something ahead that might be a trap.”
Pat smiled and motioned for Ben to lead. “You're the one with the directions.”
Ben entered the middle tunnel.
They hadn't gone far before they heard the faint sound of rushing water, which grew steadily louder as they progressed. After turning a bend in the tunnel, they entered a large chamber. They edged nearer to the gap in the ground that spanned the width of the cavern and peered down at the source of the noise: a maelstrom of swirling water ten meters below.
Creed stated out loud what they all were thinking “Fall in there and its certain death as you'll never get out.”
Ben glanced at the map. “There has to be way across because the map continues past this.” He aimed his torch across the chasm that had halted their progress. All three followed the beam of light moved over the object situated on the far side of the gap.
“It's some kind of bridge!” Pat exclaimed.
The metal construction was raised into an upright position. Two lengths of chain fixed to either side of its top, stretched up to disappear into the ceiling and reappear two meters away and angled down to a large, metal wagon-wheel like mechanism at its base that revealed how it was raised and lowered into position. Excess lengths of chain wound around a spindle attached to the wheel's center.
“A bridge it may be, but it's not much use to us unless we can find some way of lowering it to span the abyss,” stated Creed.
“There has to be some way of operating it from this side to allow those who built this place a way to get across.” Ben examined the walls and floor for any mechanism that would lower the bridge.
Pat lifted the flap on Ben's rucksack, pulled out his small prospectors pick and started tapping the walls. After searching one side, he crossed to the other, and after a few taps, a dull, hollow sound was produced. The area of rock he had struck looked exactly like the surrounding rocky surface and gave no hint there was anything hidden there.
Intrigued, Ben and Creed watched Pat search for the edge of the hollow rock, pry it out and place it on the ground. They all stared at the lever in the space Pat had uncovered.
Ben slapped Pat on the shoulder softly, “Well done my friend, but how did you know?”
“I thought that as the entrance was on this side, there had to be a way of lowering it from this side. If I wanted to hide it, I would have done something similar.”
“Okay, give it a pull to see what it does.”
Pat tugged down on the lever, moving it from its upright position until it would move no more. They all stared at the bridge in anticipation, expecting to see it lower into place and give them a way across. Nothing happened. Pat tried to raise the lever for another attempt, but it was stuck; firmly locked into position. He shrugged at the others who had been watching. “Maybe it's broken?”
“What do we do now?” Ben approached the chasm. “We need to get across.”
Pat joined Ben at the abyss. “We could throw a hook fixed to a rope over the top of the bridge, and then one of us could swing across and lower it manually.”
“It's risky, but it could work,” said Creed. “However, we don't have a hook with us. We'll have to return above ground to fetch one.”
Ben glanced from the bridge to the lever and back again. “We may not have to.”
A quick search produced what he required. He picked up a medium-size rock, returned to the edge of the chasm and threw it. It arched through the air towards its target; the top of the bridge. A loud clang echoed around the cavern when it struck. Vibrations rippling along the metal bridge continued along the length of chain that disappeared into the ceiling. Dislodged dust that had settled on the links over the years drifted in the still air. The bridge trembled slightly, and a faint clanking of an unseen chain hidden in the rock above them was heard. Slowly, the bridge moved. The clanking length of chain wound around the spindle gradually fed out, lowering the bridge into position across the chasm.
Pat smiled. “I guess we won't need the hook now. I was trying to be all technical, and you just threw a rock at it.”
Ben laughed and patted the German on the back. “It's the British way, Pat. If it doesn't work, we hit it.”
Pat shook his head. “And you English won the war, fucking unbelievable.”
They all laughed.
As soon as the bridge had settled into position, Ben crossed first. After he reached safety, he waved the others over. By the time they reached the other side, Ben had discovered a stout wooden door fixed into a stone carved arch. A turn of its handle and a hard tug proved it to be stuck fast. Together, they managed to heave the ancient door open, and Ben shone his torch into the revealed passage. It led to an identical door a short distance away.
Before stepping through the doorway, Ben checked the floor for traps but saw nothing suspicious. “Do you think we're safe now we're inside?” he asked. “The bridge wasn't really a trap, so maybe there aren't any now.”
Pat poked his head through the doorway and examined the passage. “It looks clear to me. You could be right as it doesn't make sense to riddle the place with traps, the way in, yes, that I understand, but not inside.”
“I guess there's only one way to find out.” Pat gave Ben a soft push through the entrance.
The two men crowded in the doorway and watched Ben's progress through the short passage until he reached the far door safely before they joined him. Ben turned the handle and with a push and a shove the hinges screeched in protest when it opened. They all stepped through the doorway.
Raven entered the bridge cavern with her eyes fixed on the tunnel the three men had taken in case they returned. Though she could hear the faint sounds of the new intruders behind her, for now, they remained at the bottom of the entrance hole. She guessed they would come when they had all climbed down. As she crossed the bridge, her flashlight picked out the turbulent waters below. She briefly pondered raising it to prevent those following from crossing the chasm but decided against it. The noise would give away her presence, and the operating lever was in plain view. Now it had been lowered, she guessed it would probably perform as intended. Keeping her torch aimed at the ground, she headed for the first door and entered.
The first thing the three men noticed about the vast cavern they had just entered was the warmer temperature. The second was the source of the heat, the steam rising from a channel cut into the floor.
“It must be fed by a hot spring, perhaps from the same source as the thermal waters that feed the nearby hot baths in Rennes-les-Bains,” Creed suggested.
They followed the smooth path that led to the warm waters edge and noticed a few steps descended into a three-meter-square pool cut into the channel and lined with rose marble.
“It might have been used as some sort of ritual bathing process before entering the Temple,” Ben said.
“So we must be close.” Creed knelt and dipped a hand in the water. “It's hot, pleasantly so, like bath water.”
Pat pointed at the wall of mist filling the air before them and blocking their view. “The Temple must be through that.”
Creed stood and shook his hand dry. “Shall we find out?”
There was no bridge spanning the warm channel, but as the pool was only a meter wide, it was an easy leap across.
All three gazed in awe and fascination at something that until this moment had been thought a myth. Their torch beams roaming the building at the far end of the large chamber confirmed it was real. They had arrived at the Temple.
“It actually exists,” stated Ben, in pleased wonderment.
“What a magnificent sight, it's remarkable, unbelievable,” Creed stated.
“Ahhh, that's better,” Pat uttered.
Ben and Creed turned towards the splashing of water and saw Pat pissing into the warm water.
Ben shook his head in disbelief. “We're standing in front of something spectacular and that no one has seen for centuries, and the first thing you do is have a piss.”
Pat smiled. “It'll still be there when I'm done, and I have to make room for another beer.”
After zipping up, he rinsed his hands in the warm water upstream from his toilet, took a couple of beers from his rucksack and handed one each to Ben and Creed and grabbed one for himself.
After twisting off the tops, they clashed bottles in celebration of their discovery. As they drank, each admired the construction before them. The huge replica of the Temple of Solomon almost reached the roof of the large, natural cavern that stretched thirty meters above them. Although on a much smaller scale than the original mentioned in the Bible, which suggests the size of Solomon’s Temple as 180 feet long, 90 feet wide, and 50 feet high, and at its highest point about 20 stories or about 207 feet, it lost none of its wow-factor. Part of the original Temple had also been overlaid with gold, unlike the Temple here which displayed all its glory in rose marble, probably hewn from the long-abandoned Templar quarry a few kilometers away, where evidence still remained of large stone blocks having been cut from the rock.
With the beers finished, Pat collected up the empty bottles and placed them in his rucksack. Without a word, they approached the Temple to see what secrets lay within.
Though the rising steam obscured them from her sight, their voices gave away their positions and what they'd discovered. Raven could easily shoot them through the wall of mist, but she resisted the temptation. She meant to confront Harper before she killed him. While she waited for them to move away, she knelt to feel the pleasantly warm water and glanced back at the open doorway when she heard approaching footsteps and faint voices. Marco and his men were coming.
Her eyes flicked to the right of the door when she noticed a stack of stout timber, perhaps left over from the Temple's construction. It gave her an idea. She walked back to the door, gently closed it and used a suitable length of timber to wedge the door shut. If they were as determined as she imagined they were, the time weakened wood wouldn't stop them for long, but it would slow them down and warn her of their arrival.
Raven returned to the warm water channel and slipped off her coat. It wasn’t only the humid atmosphere that caused her to disrobe, she wanted to make an entrance. In her experience, men rarely shot a woman on first sight, especially a beautiful scantily clad woman, and now she was all three she was confident the men would hesitate when they met and give her the upper hand. It had served her well on many past occasions and had no doubts it would also prove advantageous this time. Men were so weak when faced with the female form. In such instances, their brains switched off, and their cocks took control. After concealing her clothes in the shadows for later retrieval, she leaped through the mist.
Ben, Creed, and Pat climbed the steps side by side. Their eyes roamed over the details of the Temple entrance above them and the two, large circular pillars fashioned from marble that stood either side of the doorway. A row of square pillars supported the roof and the porch that jutted out from the main bulk of the Temple.
The three men paused to admire the large door. Though the layer of silver covering the door had tarnished over the years, it didn't diminish its splendor. An intricately formed image of a seven-branched candlestick adorned the door in bas-relief.
“That's the Menorah,” pointed out Ben, unnecessarily, as all had recognized its distinctive form.
“Do you think it's inside,” asked Pat eagerly. “It would be priceless.”
“Solomon's Temple in Jerusalem was originally built to house the Ark of the Covenant, but if the Ark we found in the tomb was the original, then there may only be a copy inside.” Ben reached out, pressed down on the handle and pushed. The door swung open effortlessly without a sound.
The three men directed their lights into the interior. Although the builders had skimped on the gold covering the exterior of the Temple, they hadn't done so on its interior. When they entered through the large doorway, each marveled at the amount of precious metal that adorned the walls and reflected their lights around the room with a golden glow.
“That gold must be worth a fortune,” uttered Pat, as he thought of ways to remove it.
“I doubt it's very thick, but, yes, I'm sure it would buy you a few beers,” Ben replied, adding a smile.
“A few beers? It would buy him a brewery,” Creed quipped.
But gold didn't make up the entire decoration. Green and red stripes adorned the ceiling and the same colors picked out the details on the bases and tops of the many pillars that ran down each side of the room to support the roof. Two rows of large, four-branched candlesticks led from the doorway to a raised platform at the far end of the room. With no daylight to penetrate the small, high glassless openings, these would have been the room's only source of illumination. Nearly all of them still contained thick wax candles of various lengths, extinguished centuries ago by the last person to have abandoned the Temple.
Ben wondered who that would have been, a Knight Templar, a priest, Saunière perhaps?
Each of the men chose a different path when they wandered through the room towards the steps leading up to the raised platform at the far end. Their soft footfalls on the marble floor sounded loud in the silence that shrouded the room. They all felt respect for the place, each sensing its history and its purpose. Pat lit a cigarette and used his lighter to set flame to each candle he passed on his journey through the Temple.
They soon arrived at the steps that rose up to the small elevated platform and a golden door.
Ben pointed his torch at the door. “Whatever the purpose for the Temple's construction, it’s behind that door.”
They glanced at each other before slowly climbing up to the steps to find out.
“If the Ark from the tomb was a copy, and the original is behind this door, isn't it supposed to have some sort of power?” Pat enquired.
“If you believe what’s mentioned in the Bible, then yes, it did have some form of power that supposedly killed some of those that touched it, but we'll just have a look. I'm certain it’s not going to be like in the Indiana Jones and the Ark of the Covenant movie. I doubt bolts of fire will shoot out from it to kill us all.”
Pat rubbed his chin. “Hmmm, ‘doubt’ doesn't sound very certain to me. Perhaps you should go first.”
Ben smiled. “Thanks.”
Ben approached the door, turned the handle and gave it a push. It swung silently open. Ben shot a nervous glance back at his two companions before stepping inside.
Pat was about to follow him through when Ben's scream of agony echoed around the large room, striking terror into the two men.
“Oh my God! Noooooo!”
The two men, who envisioned bolts of energy shooting from the doorway to strike them dead, ran back down the steps.
Laughter halted their escape. They turned to see Ben standing unharmed in the doorway with a grin spread across his face.
“Thanks a lot, you two. Now I know who to count on in a crisis.”
“Ha, ha, English humor. Very funny,” Pat said, climbing back up the stairs.
“Sorry, I couldn't resist it.”
“Yeah whatever,” Pat nodded at the entrance when he reached the top of the steps. “Is the Ark in there?”
“Well, sort of,” Ben replied vaguely.
Pat stared at him. “What do you mean ‘sort of' Either it is, or it isn't.”
“It's best you see it for yourself, and then you'll understand. There's also something else.” He added cryptically, moving towards the open doorway. “But don't worry, it's safe.”
It was not the Ark that first caught their attention when they entered. It was the large golden table with a huge seven-branched candlestick standing on top.”
“It's the bloody Menorah!” stated Pat, awestruck. “Is it solid gold?” He stepped forward to try and lift it, but it was too heavy. “Yep, its solid gold. Can we take it?”
“It would look out of place in your old shack, don't you think?” said Creed with a smile.
“Who cares? I'll sell it.”
Ben shook his head. “Who to? It's not the sort of thing you can sell on eBay.”
“You must realize the significance of the Menorah, Pat,” said Creed. “As is the Ark, the Menorah is one of the most sought after Holy relics of all time. If its discovery were revealed, the Jews would claim ownership and demand its return. There would be bloodshed in Jerusalem, and perhaps a war would be fought over it. No, I'm afraid it must remain a secret.”
Disappointed, but not surprised, Pat joined the others staring at another object resting on a large raised plinth in the center of the room.
Creed moved nearer and examined it. “I now see what you meant, Ben, but is it the true Ark?”
Ben shrugged. “From its condition, I assume so.”
Each shone their lights over the pile of disjointed, collapsed and decayed remains of the Ark of the Covenant. Though some of the wooden pieces still retained its covering of gold, other parts were bare; its gold having peeled off and fallen onto the raised plinth around it.
“Don't forget, it has to be about three thousand years old and never kept in ideal conditions, what with it being carried across the desert and from country to country and to get here probably across the sea as well.”
Pat reached out a hand but paused. “Do you think it’s okay to touch?”
Ben shrugged. “Perhaps any power it may have once held is no longer present.”
“Was that a yes?” Pat questioned, seeking reassurance.
Ben touched one of the cherubs golden wings that still retained its gold covering, with a fingertip. As soon as his finger came into contact with the Ark, he screamed and started shaking.
Pat and Creed shook their heads in dismay.
“Hilarious,” said Pat.
Ben smiled, “Sorry I...”
“...Couldn't resist it,” finished Pat.
Ben picked up a wing fallen from one of the cherubs. “It's larger than I imagined and the whole thing must have been heavy when it was intact.”
“Even heavier with the Ten Commandments stone tablets inside, the purpose it was built for in the first place,” Creed offered.
Pat peered amongst the pile of collapsed wood. “Do you think the tablets are under this lot?”
Ben stared at the Ark's remains. “If the tomb ark was a copy, perhaps the tablets it contained were also, and the originals are here. Let's move some of this stuff out of the way.”
They carefully cleared away pieces of the collapsed Ark.
When Pat removed one side of the Ark, he exclaimed, “I see them.”
Creed and Ben crowded around the inscribed stone tablets.
“It's ancient Hebrew,” Ben stated.
None of them needed a translator to decipher the ancient text; they all knew it had to be the Ten Commandments.
“God's law!” Ben said.
Creed cocked a raised eyebrow at Ben. “I thought you didn't believe in God.”
“Confronted by this, it's becoming hard not to have doubts.”
Pat nodded, “I agree. Maybe there's something to this Bible stuff after all.”
Ben smiled. “You're not turning all religious on us, are you?”
“No way, I'd rather stop drinking beer!”
“What do we do now?” Creed asked. Like the others, he was unable to avert his eyes from the stone tablets. “Do we take them with us?”
With a struggle, Ben managed to force his eyes away from the ancient text and shook his head fogged with the faint pangs of a headache. He noticed Pat and Creed, who were slightly nearer, were mesmerized by the stones. He put his hands in front of their eyes to break the spell.
“I couldn't stop looking,” Creed exclaimed.
“Me neither,” said Pat.
Ben backed away from the plinth. “I think we have discovered the source of the Ark's power.”
Pat and Creed joined him by the doorway.
“What do you mean?” Creed asked.
“It's the stones, the tablets. Do you two have a faint headache?”
The two men nodded.
“Me too. I think the stones must soak up something from us, humans I mean. Maybe that's why the Ark was built, to store this energy or whatever it soaks up. Maybe when it reaches a certain level, it can't contain it anymore and has to be released.”
“If that's true, and I'm not entirely convinced, it might explain some of the Bible stories about the Ark smiting down people.”
“It could also explain why the Ark was always placed in a sealed room,” suggested Creed. “No one except the high priest was allowed to go inside, and this was something he rarely did.”
Pat shook his head in disbelief. “Look, this is all getting a bit sci-fi. How could a couple of bits of old stone drain energy from humans? It's not possible.”
“Before experiencing what we just have, I would have been in total agreement, but we all felt something when we were close to the tablets. I've no idea what, but it was something. All three of us experienced headaches when we were close, that's a fact. Who knows what would happen if we had prolonged contact with them. Maybe the stone is from a meteorite and what we experienced was caused by some form of radiation or something. I just don't know, but I'm not staying to find out.”
Creed nodded his agreement.
Pat rubbed his chin while he stared at the Ark's remains. “Radiation you say, now that's something I understand. Maybe you're right. To be safe, we leave the Ark and the tablets alone.”
“I propose we leave everything in this room well alone. We leave, shut the door and forget about it. But first, we bring the bodies down here, put them inside and then find a way to seal the pothole we came through, forever!”
“I can get hold of explosives,” Creed said.
“That’ll do it. Let's go,” said Ben. “I'll be glad when this is all over and done with.”
Pat and Creed exited the room.
With one final glance at the Ark, Ben followed them through the door and pulled it closed behind him.
Creed and Pat halted at the top of the steps and stared at the figure that had just entered the temple.
Ben sensed trouble. He glanced at the door as he stood beside his two companions. He could just make out the shape of a female figure, “You two are seeing this, right?” he whispered.
The others informed them they were.
“Good, I thought for a second it was an angel.”
The figure stepped into the candlelight.
Pat whistled in admiration. “She looks like an angel to me.”
Creed drew his weapon.
Pat glanced at Creed's gun enviously as he pulled out a beer, twisted off the top, glugged it down and held the empty bottle like a club. He glanced at Creed, “I don't suppose you want to swap.”
Creed ignored him; his attention was focused on the approaching female.
Ben also had his attention focused on the strikingly beautiful woman as she swaggered sexily towards them. It wasn't just her beauty that entirely captivated the three men; the small amount of clothing that hugged the contours of her body was a significant contributor. Her full rounded breasts, which bounced with every step, strained to be free of the shiny, skimpy black bra that matched her knickers in size, color, and material. Her arms and shoulders were also covered in what seemed to be leather. Black straps wound from her waist, down her long legs to her knee-length leather boots. A sheath attached to these straps contained a large bladed knife. Her black hooded cloak fluttered behind her as she walked and one handheld the assault rifle resting casually on one shoulder.
All three men wondered how she had found her way down here and her purpose for doing so.
Raven could see by the men's faces her outfit had produced the desired effect, as she knew it would. She halted a short distance away from the base of the steps and stared at one of them. “Hello, Ben. It's good to finally meet you.”
“Likewise I'm sure, and your name is?”
“You can call me, Raven. You killed my brothers, Abe and Isaac.”
Hiding his shock at the revelation and the danger it was about to bring, he answered, “I didn't kill them, Rosslyn did. They were reckless and died in traps fashioned by the catacombs builders. If you seek revenge, it's them you should blame.”
Creed whispered. “Trouble certainly does follow you around.”
“Yeah, I know. I'm like a magnet to it.”
Raven briefly considered Ben's words. She knew her brothers sometimes acted recklessly and could easily imagine them blundering into a deadly trap.
“I know it's not much of a comfort, but they died quickly and without pain,” Ben lied.
“That might be the case, but if you hadn't gone to Rosslyn, they would still be alive.”
“Then perhaps you should blame Silas, the person responsible for sending them into the catacombs after me. I had no knowledge of their presence until after they had died. I nearly perished myself. Only luck saved me. Your brothers were less fortunate. If I could have saved them, I would have. I'm not a cold-blooded killer like they were!”
“All of what you say may or may not be the truth; however, you could be lying in an attempt to save your life.”
“Perhaps. But you knew your brothers. Do you think they would have recognized a trap if they encountered one?”
Raven thought about it for a moment before conceding, “No, they probably wouldn't have.”
An explosion echoed in the cavern outside.
“It seems we have unexpected visitors,” Raven stated, without surprise.
Creed sensed she knew who had caused the explosion. “Who are they?”
“I only know they work for the Vatican. Their intention, I assume, is to dispose of you three and take or destroy whatever's down here.”
“They must be after the Ark and the Menorah,” Pat blurted.
A look of surprise appeared on Raven's face. “They are here?”
Ben nodded to the door behind him. “In there.”
Raven whistled in astonishment. “That explains your reason for coming here. You are treasure hunters.”
“We don’t want them. We will leave them here as they'll cause too much bloodshed if they're revealed. It's another purpose that guides our hand.”
Raven stared at Ben. The man was full of surprises and might not be the greedy treasure hunter she first suspected. He also didn't seem to be armed like Creed.
“It's okay, Creed, if I wanted you dead you would be. Lower your weapon, the enemy isn't in here but out there.”
Creed lowered the gun. “How many?”
Raven shrugged. “Though I imagine, unlike us, they will all be armed.” She indicated the gun Creed held. “Is that your only weapon?”
Creed glanced at the beer bottle Pat held and nodded.
“Then I suggest we make our move before they arrive and block our only exit.” Raven turned and strode for the exit.
“So killing me is off the cards?” Ben inquired.
Raven turned and glanced at him. “I haven't decided yet.” She turned away.
Pat and Creed looked at Ben to see his attention focused admiringly on Raven's back view as she walked away.
Creed clicked his fingers in front of his face to grab his attention. “Do we follow her?”
“I see no other choice, and she has the biggest weapon.”
“And the cutest ass,” quipped Pat, with a grin.
“Amen to that,” Ben agreed.
They followed Raven through the door. A shot rang out. A bullet struck the marble pillar by her head. In a blur of movement, Raven slapped the machine gun into the palm of her hand, aimed and fired. The man that had shot at her fell to the ground with a bullet in his heart. More men leaped through the warm mist. Raven fired again. Another man fell. More shots rang out. Bullets peppered the door and frame
A bullet smashed the bottle Pat held as they ducked back into the Temple. Pat glanced at Creed. “It's okay, I have more.”
Creed smiled. “I didn't doubt it for a second.”
More bullets ricocheted around the entrance, some entered the Temple and left deep gouges in the gold-covered walls.
“Quick, close the door,” Raven ordered.
Ben and Pat slammed the door shut.
“Is there another way out?” she demanded.
“I haven't seen one,” Ben answered.
“Then now would be a good time to look, don't you think? Creed, hold this.” Raven pressed the powerful rifle into his hand and grabbed one of the large candlesticks, dislodging the lit candles, which rolled across the floor. She wedged the candlestick against the door and retrieved her weapon from Creed. “It won't hold them for long, they have explosives.”
“Explosives,” uttered Pat. He twisted the cap off another bottle. “We're all going to die.” He gulped down the beer.
Creed looked at Raven. He admired her quick thinking and weapon expertise. “So, what's the plan?”
Raven shrugged. “We survive and kill them all I suppose. I'm just not sure how to achieve that yet.”
Ben returned. “The only other exit is through one of the high windows. We have rope so we could climb out if we can fashion some sort of grappling hook.”
A thud against the door made them all turn to face it.
Raven glanced up at the high windows. “Whatever you do, make it soon. They could blow the door at any moment.”
––––––––
Domenico had reached the door first, closely followed by his men. He turned the handle and gave it a push. When it didn't budge, he barged it with his shoulder, but it still refused to open. Either it's locked, or more likely they've wedged it closed.
Marco arrived. “One of you shoot the door.”
His men glanced at Domenico for confirmation.
Domenico shook his head in dismay. “And exactly what do you think that would accomplish?”
“Punch a hole through it,” Marco answered.
“The door's probably a few inches thick. We would do no more than splinter it.”
“Blow it open then.”
“It's a good job you're here, Marco, I never would've thought of that. Francesco. Set a couple of small charges to blow the hinges.”
“But make sure you don't bring the temple down, there may be valuable artifacts inside.”
The men ignored Marco's unnecessary comment. Domenico would like to strap a charge in Marco's mouth or better still, up his ass, but he had his orders. However, anything could go wrong in a place like this. He smiled at the thought.
Ben examined one of the large four-branched candelabra and discovered it was in two parts, the stem and legs, and the crown of candle holders. He slipped off the top and felt its weight; the metal was hollow, so not as heavy as it looked and light enough to throw up to the window.
“We can use this as a grappling hook,” he informed the others as he bent the four branches back.
Creed took a coil of rope from his rucksack and tied it to the crudely fashioned hook. “Will it be strong enough?”
Ben shrugged. “It's the only option we have.” He positioned himself under the farthest window from the door and prepared to swing the improvised grappling hook up through the opening.
“It's going to make one hell of a noise when it strikes the wall?” Pat warned. “Those outside would have to be deaf not to hear it.”
“I've got that covered,” Raven said, her powerful weapon aimed at the door.
Ben swung the rope and let it fly at the window. When it struck the wall and fell back to the ground, Raven fired a few shots at the door to mask the sounds. On his second attempt, the hook flew through the window. Ben pulled up the slack until two of the candelabra's prongs caught on the outside of the opening and lifted his weight onto the rope to test it. “It seems to be holding.”
“Just one more thing,” Pat said. “How do we get down? It's just as high outside as in here. We'll break a leg, or worse if we jump.”
Creed, who'd been busy tying another rope to the candelabra's stem, passed the other end to Ben, who tied it around his waist.
“Okay, now I know.”
Ben glanced up at the window. “I'll go first to test it's okay.”
There were no arguments.
Ben found the climb grueling and only just managed it to the top. Grateful it was over, he pulled his exhausted body onto the window ledge and straddled it. He pulled up the stem, and after positioning it across the inside window opening, so it rested against the wall, he secured it to the candlestick hook to stop its weight from pulling it down. When all was ready, he nodded for the next person to climb.
It was decided, as Pat had no weapon, he would go next, and he began climbing. Ben commenced his much easier climb down the outside wall. As his feet touched the ground, an explosion shook the building.