The Lafayette Sword (29 page)

114

Grand Orient Masonic Hall

Present day

A
ntoine Marcas, wearing the same wrinkled suit, was pacing in Guy Andrivaux
's office.

“You could have stopped at home to change and shower,” Andrivaux said. “And maybe caught a cat nap while you were there. You look e
xhausted.”

“I sat in traffic for an hour and a half on the way in from the airport, and we've already wasted enough time. I haven't even called Hodecourt at headquarters. I'm sure he's still steamed about getting left behind while I was in the US. So do you
have it?”

This was his last lead, his only chance to identify a ghost. The name Cenevières wasn't in any database the police had
access to.

“I can't find the name anywhere in our files,” Andrivaux said, clicking away at the
keyboard.

Marcas ran his hand through his hair. “He told me his name, for God's sake—Cenevières. Are
you sure?”

The grand master had been watching this exchange. He walked over to Marcas and put a hand on his
shoulder.

“He is sure. The database is constantly updated and has the names of all brothers who have paid their dues and even brothers who have been suspended or removed from t
he order.”

Marcas couldn't make sense of it. Why would the killer give a fake name if he thought Marcas was going to die under the Statue o
f Liberty?

“Do you think he was a member of another juri
sdiction?”

The grand master shook his head. “I sent the name out to my counterparts at the other jurisdictions. When I told them the man could be a murderer, they all agreed to look through their files. But they found nothing. The name Cenevières cannot be found in any French Freemas
on lodge.”

Marcas collapsed in an armchair. Andrivaux left his computer and sat down beside him. They were silent for severa
l minutes.

“Didn't you tell us that he was a descendent of an eighteenth-century Freemason who was close to Lafayette and Archambeau?” The grand mas
ter asked.

Marcas looked up. “That's right. The three brothers belonged to the sa
me lodge.”

“Let's go to the archives then,” Andrivaux said. “We'll look up the marquis's lodge and work fr
om there.”

Marcas got up and rushed to the door, with Andrivaux on
his heels.

“I'll leave you to your work, my brothers,” the grand master said, rising from his chair, as well. He was a gray-haired lawyer who belonged to another lodge. “I've got a television intervie
w to do.”

Marcas and Andrivaux parted ways with the grand master and took the elevator to the sixth floor. They hurried down the hallway, stopping at the head librarian's office. Pierre Moutiers, a middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed black beard answered their knock and invited them in. The office, with its old wooden floor and shelves overflowing with books, offered a fabulous view of western Paris that extended as far north as the Sa
cré Coeur.

The man's desk was full of books, manuscripts, and various other objects, including a cigarette lighter that Marca
s noticed.

Andrivaux filled him in on th
eir quest.

“Lafayette's lodge isn't a problem. It was Les Amis de l'Humanité. But that doesn't tell us which lodge his friends went to. However, we might be able to find them as veterans of the American Revolution. Let's see….” The man focused on his comput
er screen.

Marcas stepped behind him to look over his
shoulder.

“Voilà. Here you go, a list of French brothers who fought in that war. It's long. We have five books that you can consult. Head over to the library, and I'll have them br
ought in.”

Marcas thanked Moutiers and gave him a brotherl
y embrace.

“My pleasure, brother. I'm happy
to help.”

115

Champs-Élysées, Paris

Present day

T
he security store was packed with rough-and-tumble customers filling their carts with bugs, hidden cameras, GPS trackers, and stun guns as if they were at a supermarket buying milk
and bread.

The Sword of Light paid for the long-life flashlight with a tactical runtime of two hours and the trident snap-open knife with serra
ted blade.

It had been decided. It was time to finish his quest. He had rested after returning from New York, taking the time to savor what was to come. Nothing would be the same once he had the secret of gold. Today he would have it. In a matter
of hours.

Leaving the store, he paused at the window of a neighboring shop to admire a fine Moroccan binding with gilded lettering. Maybe he would visit the shop one day and see what else the owner had. Not now, though. Just as he was moving away from the window, he noticed the reflection of a man watching him across the way. The man was sitting at a café table and pretending to rea
d a paper.

Was he being paranoid? Or was someone following him? But who? It made no sense. That said, he couldn't take any risks. He was too close to reaching
his goal.

He had to slip away and lose
the tail.

At the end of the shopping gallery he noticed a large façade bearing several European flags. Atop the flags he saw the name of the business: it was a residential hotel for traveling professionals. Men and women in business suits were coming
and going.

This was his way out. He strolled into the hotel and told a receptionist that he was looking for a studio apartment for a foreign client. While she consulted the screen, he saw that his tail was making a p
hone call.

He smiled at the receptionist. “Perfect. Can you please show me all the exits? My client is a very pri
vate man.”

116

Grand Orient Masonic Hall

Present day

M
arcas and Andrivaux passed through the metal detector at the entrance to the reading room, with its high ceiling and walls covered with thousands of books. They sat down at a long table. A librarian arrived and carefully set down the ancient bound volumes. Moutiers joined them a few mome
nts later.

“We're looking for a man named Cenevières, a brother in arms with Lafayette and Archambeau,” Marcas said, opening the f
irst book.

Andrivaux and Moutiers did the same. For ten minutes, the sound of turning pages was all that could be heard. Then the head librarian cleared h
is throat.

“I've got Archambeau. He's presented as being close to Lafayette during the entire War of Independence. All it says about his Freemason history is that he was initiated in Paris. There aren't any other details—no place,
no date.”

Marcas
grumbled.

“Ah, research is never easy,” Mout
iers said.

“Well, look at this.” Andrivaux was pointing to a worn brochure. “It's an anti-Freemason publication from 1815, written right after Napoleon's fall, clearly by some fervent royalist denouncing a conspiracy hatched by the brothers that led to the French Re
volution.”

“The old refrain. But what does this have to do with our man?” Mar
cas asked.

“He accuses certain aristocrats who were Freemasons. ‘Traitors to their social class,' he calls them. And here we've got Archambeau, initiated in 1775 into the Frères de Saint Jacqu
es lodge.”

“That wasn't a common name for a lodge at the time,” Moutiers said. “Lodge names usually celebrated friendship, fraternity, liberty, or some Masonic
symbol.”

“Maybe the founders wanted to be more secretive,” Marcas speculated. “Can you pull up a list of lodge
members?”

Moutiers nodded and headed off to consult a computer. He returned a few minutes later with a cloth-covered case. “Here it is: lodge members from
day one.”

They opened the case and took out a yellowed registry filled with precis
e writing.

“Let's start with 1775,” Ma
rcas said.

Andrivaux started reading the names, their Masonic degrees, and their roles in
the lodge.

Marcas leaned over his shoulder and impatiently tapped his fingers on the table. “Can't you just jump to
the C's?”

Andrivaux turned the pages. “B… Here we go. C, Ca, Ce… We've got it: Ce
nevières.”

“Cenevières,” Marcas read aloud. “Alexis de, initiated on February 23, 1776.” Moutiers pointed to an asterisk in the margin, which was followed by a number written in paling ink. “There's a notation on
page 275.”

“It's in another notebook,” Andri
vaux said.

Marcas rushed over to the pile and grabbed the next notebook. He leafed through the pages as quickly as he could without tearing them. “H
ere it is:

Brother Alexis de Cenevières, passed away in 1837 at the venerable age of 87. To celebrate this great man and his participation in the American War of Independence, a ceremony will be held on the fiftieth anniversary of his death. His great grandson, Louis de Cenevières from the Alsace-Lorraine Lodge, wil
l preside.

“So now we need to find this Louis de Ce
nevières.”

Moutiers smiled. “Alsace-Lorraine was one of the top lodges during the second half of the nineteenth century. It brought together writers, politicians, government workers, and scientists, all of whom worked together out of patriotism. They fostered the Franco-American friendship that began with the Revolutio
nary War.”

Marcas set the notebook down and looked at his brothers. “Auguste Bartholdi designed the Statue of Liberty. Was he part of th
at lodge?”

117

Palais Royal

Present day

“M
y dear Edmond, you have always been so ostentatious in your love of our favorite raw material,” André Surgens said, studying Canseliet's extravagant office. He himself didn't care for the flashy gold décor. Canseliet was one of those Aurora members who were consumed with the esthetic of gold. He had an actual physical need to possess and feel it. Four of the twenty members of the cartel shared that obsession. The others, although dependent upon it, didn't have addictive pers
onalities.

“Everyone has vices, André. Why are
you here?”

Surgens crossed his legs and tilted his head. “We need to intercept th
e target.”

Canseliet frowned. Surgens knew the man didn't like getting his ha
nds dirty.

“You know, we're not in the Middle Ages anymore or in the Middle East or some banana republic,” Canse
liet said.

“So what?”

“An intervention on French soil could have serious cons
equences.”

Surgens put on a paternal smile. “I understand your scruples. But just imagine if the secret of making alchemical gold were made public or fell into the wrong hands—the target, to be specific. The consequences would be much more serious. It would be a disaster. The world as we know it would
collapse.”

“I know. It would be the end of the world. That's what I told that French cop when he was sitting right there, b
ut still…”

The gold-plated telephone on Canseliet's desk rang. He answered and scowled. “Incompetent!” he shouted, slamming down the receiver. Canseliet took a deep breath and looked at Surgens. “We lost the target. I
'm sorry.”

Surgens didn't bat an eye. He kep
t smiling.

“I thought you'd be angry,” Canse
liet said.

“I never get angry. I have forgotten that emotion, right down to its bitter taste. In any case, if our man is who I think he is, I know where he
will go.”

118

Grand Orient Masonic Hall

Present day

M
outiers returned with a thick volume. He leafed through it as
he spoke.

“Frédéric Auguste Bartholdi was initiated into the Alsace-Lorraine Lodge on October 14, 1875, just a few days before the formation of the Franco-American Union. A lot of Masons belonged to that lodge, including the historian Henr
i Martin.”

“Cenevières, Lafayette, Archambeau, and now Bartholdi. That's a full house,” Marcas said, rubbing his hands
together.

“So, if I understand correctly, we're looking for a murderer who descends directly or indirectly from a certain… Let's see… Alexis de Cenevières, whose descendants were also brothers. Andrivaux said. “One of them is Louis de Cenevières, who belonged to the Alsace-Lorraine Lodge. But I don't get what Bartholdi has to do with t
he story.”

The two brothers looked at Marcas. They wanted an answer, but he couldn't possibly tell them how he had found the sanctuary under the Statue of Liberty. That was the Bartholdi c
onnection.

“Dumb luck. The more you look, the more coincidences you find,” he said, looking back at the book. “I'm sure Louis de Cenevières will lead us to Paul de Lambre's
murderer.”

“Well, we'll need weeks to go through the lodge's archives,” Andri
vaux said.

Moutiers shook his head. “Actually, since it was a well-known lodge, the archives are al
l online.”

“Okay,” Marcas said as they walked over to one of the computers. “Let's split up the work. I'd like to read the presentations made by Louis de Ce
nevières.”

“Consider it done,” Moutiers said, typing in th
e request.

“I'll go through the list of lodge members to see if I can find more information about this Cenevières,” Andri
vaux said.

A window opened on t
he screen.

“It looks like presentations weren't Brother Cenevières's thing,” Moutiers said. “He made only three during his entire Masoni
c career.”

He jotted down the references and asked a librarian to bring the documents. Meanwhile, the second search came up with a much longer list for Andrivaux and
Moutiers.

“And we wind up getting the brunt of the work,” Andri
vaux said.

Marcas already has his nose in the three documents. He eliminated the first two, as they were mandatory topics for apprentices. He focused on the third, the only one Louis de Cenevières chose on his own: “Presented November 25, 1891, by Brother Cenevières: The Eiff
el Tower.”

He read the six hand-written pages, one after the other, learning in detail about the challenges faced by the engineers and carpenters who built the Eiffel Tower. It would intrigue an architect or engineer, but as far as Marcas, the cop, was concerned, there was nothing all that fascinating in the presentation, except one
key part.

As you know, brothers, Gustave Eiffel's engineering and architecture firm also worked on the Statue of Liberty, which France generously offered to our American friends. You all know the role our lodges have played in the support of the Franco-American Union, which made the dream a reality. Brother Bartholdi gave a wonderful presentation on the thoughts and imagination that led to the birth of h
is statue.

Without going into great detail, I can tell you that it was the same for Mr. Eiffel's tower. The most daring mathematical calculations allied perfectly with the metalwork that made it possible, via the genius of reason, to build the tallest tower in
the world.

It is a pillar of glory to the knowledge of humanity, like our brother Bartholdi's statue, which is a pillar dedicated t
o liberty.

I am proud to have worked as a Freemason on these two perfect columns on both sides of the Atlantic. I would even dare to say that the tower and the statue are like Jachin and Boaz, the two pillars that hold up the univers
al temple.

Marcas's heart was leaping out of his chest. He had referred to the two pillars. All the pieces were coming
together.

I hope that hundreds of years from now, when we are nothing but dust and lost to the memory of men, that these two marvels, equal to the Great Pyramid of Giza, will still be contributing to a more just and enlightene
d society.

And I would like to thank three brothers who have had a hand in building these two pillars. They don't like the limelight, as friends of the golden truth, but I would like to pay homage to them here, as their names will never leave this lodge. I call them my three brothers of the sword. They will u
nderstand.

Marcas looked at the names: Lafayette, Archambeau, and… The third name had been scra
tched out.