Shadow Ritual (13 page)

“What would you like me to talk about?”

“Brief me on freemasonry. Not to convert me, but to give me a general overview. Like what do you do at those meetings?”

Antoine burst out laughing. “That is impossible to explain. It’s all in the ritual.”

“Likely story.”

“You know, it’s not all that mysterious. We Masons tend to have inquiring minds. We ask questions and do research. Some of us try to find solutions for pressing problems. I know of lodges that focus on education and immigration. They’re like think tanks. In other lodges, the brothers and sisters study symbolism. Just two weeks ago, I listened to a presentation on the color blue. It was fascinating.”

Zewinski turned to him, her eyes full of ridicule.

“The color blue? Whatever. So why are you called the Freemasons, and not the free bakers? Or the free butchers?”

She downshifted abruptly, and the engine screeched. Marcas braced himself against the dashboard. Where to start? He couldn’t possibly summarize the history of freemasonry in fifteen minutes.

“You need to go back to the year 1717, more specifically to the night of June 24, at an alehouse in the middle of London called the Goose and Gridiron Tavern. A small group of aristocrats, lawmen, and scholars founded the Grand Lodge of England. These men chose to adopt the vocabulary and philosophy of medieval construction guilds, because those artisans built the cathedrals, which symbolized the most advanced expression of divine representation found on earth. That’s the origin of the analogy: build man as you would build a cathedral. Enlightened minds found the idea attractive at a time when obscurantism reigned in Christianity. And masons were also architects, experts in geometry, which had been a sacred science since the Egyptians.”

“And were they already adept at keeping secrets back then?”

“Oh yes. Since the Middle Ages mason guilds had used signs of recognition and passwords, which the Freemasons then adopted. Secrecy protected the Masons from both political and religious powers, who looked at them unfavorably. Among the founders were members of the Royal Society, a strange group engaged in esoteric research, alchemy, and the kabbalah—all practices that smelled of brimstone to those in high places.”

Zewinski pounded the horn at a German tour bus blocking the Avenue Franklin Roosevelt. “Damned tourist buses should be banned during rush hour.”

When she let up on the horn, Marcas told her that FDR was a Freemason. The bus moved, and Zewinski smirked at Marcas. He chose to believe she was gloating over her conquest of the bus and not making fun of him. He continued.

“Four years later, in 1721, a minister named James Anderson wrote the
Constitutions of the Free-Masons
, which explored the roots of freemasonry and standardized the rituals and other practices of Freemasons in London and Westminster.”

“Do go on. I get the feeling it just gets better.”

“According to Anderson, freemasonry originated in Biblical times, when key figures were said to have perpetuated hidden teachings based on what was called geometry and accepted as a philosophy of enlightenment. The teachings came from Egypt, were used and advanced by Euclid, and were preserved by the Jewish people during the Exodus to the Promised Land led by Moses.”

“What a tour!”

“Solomon had initiates to this science build his temple. The chief architect was Hiram Abiff, also known as Adoniram. He was the legendary founder of freemasonry. The Tower of Babel, the Hanging Gardens of Babylonia, and the dazzling genius of great scientists such as Pythagoras, Thales, and Archimedes, along with the Roman architect Marcus Vitruvius Pollio, are said to be linked to these Masonic teachings.”

“Is there any historical proof that these great secrets really existed?” Jade asked in a voice that sounded nearly serious.

“No, Anderson’s
Constitutions
was based on too much myth to be proved.”

“Well, that makes it easy. I can invent my own story too. Look at me. I’m descended from Cleopatra. I’m the Queen of Sheba.”

“True enough, and many lodges around the world have worked on finding proof. According to Anderson, the chain of transmission of this knowledge was almost broken twice. The first time was when the Germanic Goths and Vandals invaded the Roman Empire. The second was when the disciples of Mohammed spread across Europe. The Frankish statesman Charles Martel was the one who is said to have saved freemasonry from annihilation.”

“Isn’t he the dude who stopped the Saracens at Poitiers?”

“Yes. Unfortunately some nationalistic extremists have embraced him as a founding father. Anyway, freemasonry flourished in France, when the cathedrals were being built. And then it made its way to Scotland and England in an even more secretive form, which lasted until 1717, the year freemasonry was officially founded. And there you have it.”

“You’ll jot down some crib notes for me, right?”

The MG swerved between two vans, sped along for about fifty yards, and jerked to a stop at a red light. They were at the Rue de Washington intersection.

“I bet you didn’t know that Washington, D.C., was designed by a Freemason,” Marcas said.

“No, in fact I didn’t,” Zewinski responded.

Marcas was afraid she was going to hit the horn again. His head was beginning to throb from all the starting and stopping. On both sides of the avenue, the sidewalks were flooded with pedestrians. And on the street, the traffic extended all the way to the roundabout. A classic Parisian traffic jam.

Jade lit a cigarette, took a long drag, and spoke again, “So where does France come in? How did your club of English buddies contaminate our country? Oh, sorry, how did they bring their light to France?”

“The English were in the midst of a war that pitted the Catholic House of Stuart against the Protestant House of Hanover. King James II, a Catholic, was forced to flee to France. He took up residence in Saint-Germain-en-Laye, where his followers came to be known as Jacobites. The Jacobites founded the first French lodge in 1726 in Paris, in the back room of an English butcher shop on the Rue des Boucheries.”

“So we could have called you the free butchers.”

“How enlightened of you. The Grande Loge of France was officially created but soon became the subject of a power struggle between the Jacobites and the Hanoverians, who still had strong supporters in England. The Jacobites were nobles, very attached to their privileges and also very religious. The Jacobites even sought protection from the pope before disappearing for good when the House of Stuarts failed to win back the throne of England.”

The MG moved forward about ten feet.

“If the Freemasons were aristocrats, how is it that they were responsible for the French Revolution?”

“That’s another legend that won’t die. Let’s just say that during the first third of the eighteenth century, freemasonry was taking root in France. The duke of Antin was named the first French grand master in 1738, and the order became established throughout France, drawing the elite: nobles, musicians, merchants, army officers, and enlightened clergy. As lodges opened in the provinces, diverging movements arose, the same way diverging forces emerge in political parties.”

“When was the Grand Orient founded?”

All this storytelling was diverting Marcas from his headache, which actually seemed to be going away. He beginning to enjoy himself. He liked talking about Freemason history, especially the tales from the seventeenth century, when the Age of Enlightenment was starting to take hold, and absolutism was wavering for the first time.

“During a conflict of influence, the federating Grande Loge de France disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared, and in 1773 the Grand Orient de France was founded in a second attempt to centralize French freemasonry.”

“Fighting among the brothers is nothing new, then?”

“True enough. That’s why the myth of the great Masonic conspiracy doesn’t hold water. There’s never been a supreme grand master or any kind of Masonic vatican that gave orders to all the lodges.”

The car behind them was honking. Zewinski had missed the green light.

“But you really were behind the French Revolution, weren’t you?”

Marcas decided to have a cigarette too. He lit one and continued. “Yes and no. At the time, only the well-to-do frequented the lodges, although there were some from the third estate: artists, writers, and the petite bourgeoisie. In 1789, France had nearly thirty thousand Freemasons, but they weren’t revolutionaries thirsty for blood.

The MG finally arrived at the Place Charles-de-Gaulle.

“In the vote to put King Louis XVI to death, the Freemasons were divided, nearly half for and half against. Freemasonry never promoted any kind of extremism. But it’s also true that Freemason lodges supported the ideals of an egalitarian society. Still, even if there were more Freemasons in the latter group than in the former, they never deserved the blame for the Reign of Terror, which the Church and the aristocracy promulgated. They needed a scapegoat, and the Masons fit the bill.”

“You’ve got to be kidding. I thought Robespierre was a hoodwinker, but you’d prefer to boast about having the good guys, like Montesquieu, Mozart, and Voltaire, and kept quiet about the crazies who’ve been Freemasons.”

“History is full of depraved individuals. Should the Catholic Church be forever condemned for the Spanish Inquisitor Tomas de Torquemada?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Jade put on her turn signal.

Marcas continued. “Did you know that the Place Charles-de-Gaulle was built to glorify Emperor Napoléon and is full of Masonic allusions?”

“No wonder driving around it is so chaotic, with cars coming from every which way. What a mess,” Zewinski said. She was busy trying to keep an SUV from cutting her off.

“The Arc de Triomphe celebrates Empire victories and was built by a Freemason architect. Look at it closely, and you’ll see key symbols. The bas-reliefs are plain as day to any initiate. And the avenues that lead away from the Arc de Triomphe bear the names of marshals who served during the Empire. Eighteen of the twenty-six were Freemasons.”

“Are there lots of places like this?”

“Yes. Go take a look at the Vivienne and Colbert arcades, and you’ll find bas-reliefs of beehives and other Freemason symbols.”

Jade stepped on the gas to cut off a motorcyclist and turned onto the Avenue Hoche, which she took as far as the Parc Monceau.

“Oh, and there’s the Parc Monceau. Take the south alley, and you’ll find a small pyramid built by a brother right after—”

“Enough already! I get it. Class over. My head is going to explode.”

Just when his was feeling good again.

They turned onto the Rue de Courcelles and then veered onto the Rue Daru, where Zewinski pulled up to a small gray parking garage. She pressed the entry button and headed down the ramp to four unoccupied spaces that were marked off with faded yellow paint.

“Follow me. We have work to do.”

Marcas took his time getting out of the car. Out of principle. He didn’t want her to get the idea that he was jumping to her orders.

“I have what it takes to motivate you, Inspector.”

“Is that so? What is it?”

Zewinski didn’t say anything for several seconds. As he took his time, she stepped into the elevator. He was still fifteen feet away when she pressed the button and threw out, “I thought you wanted to see the documents Sophie had with her. I’ve got a copy upstairs.”

Marcas swore under his breath and ran to catch the elevator before the doors closed.

28

The elevator squeaked. The paint was peeling off the walls. The carpet in the hallway was threadbare, and the musty smell grew stronger the closer they got to the office.

Marcas understood the reason for the smell as soon as he entered the spacious room. It had obviously been used for storage, and even though much of the disparate collection had been pushed to the back of the room to make space for a few desks, insane odds and ends were all over the place: identity photos, disarticulated skulls, measuring instruments, and, on one of the walls, a poster with a caricature of the devil, its talons grasping the globe, with a single word:
Juden
. Worshipful master cords and a broken stone sculpture lay in a sagging armchair. Discarded on the floor were pasteboard suns and moons. Marcas had a queasy feeling as he closed the door. The room felt like a dank tomb.

Zewinski sat down in a chair behind one of the desks and slowly stretched out her legs, crossing them at the ankle. “Impressive, don’t you think? Nothing has changed.”

“I thought it had all been—”

“Destroyed? No, not at all.”

“How disgusting.”

“The Gestapo occupied this building, and the Ministry of Defense got it back when the war ended. It doesn’t have any administrative function these days. It’s used mainly by black ops. As for the junk, nobody ever did anything with it.”

“That can’t be.”

“Yep, for the most part, these are relics from the infamous anti-Freemason exhibit held in the Petit Palais in 1940. I checked.”

Marcas had to breathe deeply to control his anger. He was sure Darsan had assigned them this office space on purpose—a gratuitous jab.

“How could all of this still be around?” The exhibition was infamous. Every Mason knew about it. Posters at the entrance accused Freemasons of “ruining and pillaging the nation.” Inside, there were brochures, fliers, more posters, items seized from Masonic lodges, and a number of propaganda films aimed at Masons and Jews.

“I heard that General de Gaulle needed some persuading to legalize Freemason societies again,” Zewinski said. “Even today, you dudes aren’t all that popular. The building has some cupboards filled with bad memories from other periods too. On the second floor, there’s an electric dynamo from Algeria—you know, the kind used to torture people. And there’s an ingenious bathtub invented by the French Gestapo in their Rue Lauriston headquarters. It has a tipping chair. It could be that some of your buddies got baths in that.”

Marcas just looked around, feeling like a lost child. Zewinski’s eyes softened.