Authors: Pamela Hegarty
“
You shouldn’t be afraid,” she said. Not afraid, terrified. As soon as the door closed behind her, he latched the deadbolt.
He snatched the cell phone Agent Fox had given him from his pocket. God would not save him from the devil. Maybe Fox could.
Fox answered on the second ring. “This had better be important,” he said, by way of a greeting.
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A matter of life or death,” replied Jared.
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Same here,” he said.
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Baltasar Contreras will be at my door in thirty minutes.” That should get the agent’s attention. Fox constantly grilled Jared to ferret out his connections to the man who was hosting the banquet tonight. Fox suspected that Contreras had designs on the Lux et Veritas sword. He did not know that Contreras had actually designed it. Jared consistently countered the agent’s suspicions with his outward display of annoyingly unflagging patriotism.
Silence, then, “And you know this how?”
Jared swallowed hard. “I’ve made a deal with the devil, Agent Fox. You’ve got to help me.”
“
What did Contreras offer for the sword?”
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He’s after something far more valuable,” he said. “And if he gets it, the world will never be the same.”
Through the phone, Jared heard auto tires squeal to a stop. “No need for superlatives,” Fox said. “I’ll be there in forty-five minutes.”
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Not soon enough,” Jared shot back. “I’m afraid for my life.”
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And I’m afraid for the life of an innocent girl,” he said cryptically.
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If I die, you’ll never even know what is lost.”
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You’re not going to die,” he said. “Now tell me what’s going on.”
Jared paced across the room. “You save me, I’ll tell you. Not before.”
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Damn it, Jared.” He heard the blast of a car horn. “I’m getting on the radio right now to call for backup, an agent from our New York office.”
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No!” Jared shouted back. “Contreras has his own men,” he searched for the words, “at the highest levels. In your own Homeland Security agency, a man he called Rambo. He will know I am betraying him. Just get here, fast.” He pressed end. If his strategy was to succeed, he had to prepare quickly.
CHAPTER
36
Christa studied the map that Conroy had drawn as a child, in the past. He was right. This all hinged on the past. Alvaro Contreras, a conquistador, developed a scheme to truly conquer the new world, with a poison and its antidote unique to the microcosm of the hidden canyon, completely under his control. The priest, Salvatierra, was sent by the Vatican to recover the Breastplate, but he was commanded by God, so he believed, to destroy it. The Breastplate and their belief in its divine secrets drove these men’s destinies. She had to stop it from driving hers, here and now.
“
Professor Conroy,” she said, snapping him out of some kind of perplexed fugue. She sensed it, too, the subtle lace edging the musty damp of the room, a smell so sweet it was sickly. It was an unnatural smell, enticing and dangerous. She recognized it, from when she saw the phantom at Gabby’s house. “You said that Alvaro Contreras told us how the Breastplate of Aaron was connected to this poison, five hundred years ago.”
Conroy picked up a small metal globe from the corner of his bookshelf. He held it before him like Hamlet cradling a skull. “Here be dragons,” he said.
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That’s your reproduction of the Lenox Globe,” she said. The original was in the collection of the New York Public Library. Crafted around 1507, the Lenox was one of the first globes created after the discovery of the new world. The now famous phrase, “Here be dragons,” was etched in Latin at the threshold of the vast abyss beyond the known world. “Yes, there were dragons,” she said, “in the minds of those who lived in the sixteenth century. With the Protestant Reformation and the Age of Discovery in full swing, Europeans were pushing the boundaries of both the physical and spiritual worlds and turning even more to Heaven for guidance. A priest like Salvatierra, he’d see the spiritual influence in everything.”
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Whereas a conquistador like Alvaro Contreras was a more practical man,” said Conroy.
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Daniel, what was it Alvaro told Salvatierra according to the letter? Something about standing on the platform to reveal the secret?”
Daniel found the passage in the letter. “
Contreras tempted me as Satan tempted Jesus
,” Daniel read. “
Don the Breastplate
.
Stand upon this platform and call God’s light to shine upon you and you will hold the powers of the Heavens in the palm of your hand.”
He looked up and frowned. “Clearly, both Contreras and Salvatierra believed in the Breastplate, but I don’t see how this connects it to the hidden canyon.”
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I am an historian and archaeologist, not a theologian,” said Conroy, “but I have come across many clever machinations thought too advanced for primitive civilizations that reveal hidden treasure, not only in material goods, but in the wonder of human ingenuity. If the Breastplate of Aaron can open the gateway to Heaven, then I’d certainly think it could open a portal to a hidden canyon on Earth.”
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Which is why Salvatierra destroyed the Breastplate,” said Christa, “and scattered the seven stones across the globe. He had seen the bodies of the villagers, the mother who had strangled her baby.” Like Salvatierra, that image in particular haunted her. “He thought the power of the Breastplate was divine, but, as in its entire history, the Breastplate has been a means to an end.”
Daniel held the letter high. “The Breastplate of Aaron does open a portal,” he said, “to an end that is divine, an end that is the beginning.”
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If we don’t find those seven stones,” Christa said, “it’s not going to open a portal to anything. And we have less than seven days.”
Conroy stroked his chin. “That will be a tad challenging,” he said, “not in the very least acquiring Babur’s diamond and Saint Edward’s sapphire.”
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Babur,” Christa said. “Muslim, descendent of both Timur and Ghengis Khan. Babur conquered central Asia, including much of India in the early 1500s.”
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Babur’s diamond is now better known as the Kohinoor,” Conroy said.
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The Kohinoor?” She had seen it several times, sitting atop the Queen’s crown, on their trips through London as a child. “That can’t be. That diamond is in the British crown jewels. Queen Victoria received it from India as part of the Treaty of Lahore in in 1849.”
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And you might know Saint Edward as Edward the Confessor,” said Conroy. “His Sapphire also resides in the Crown Jewels in the Tower of London.”
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Of course, Salvatierra wrote in his letter that the Circle of Seven guardians took the Sapphire east to England and the Diamond west to Asia. But how can Contreras hope to get the Kohinoor Diamond and Edward’s Sapphire? They are the most closely guarded gems in the world.”
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With inside help,” said Daniel. “Contreras commissioned a ceremonial sword, very hush hush. It’s going to be unveiled at the G-20 dinner he’s hosting in New York tonight. The sword’s caretaker is none other than Britain’s Crown Jeweler. He’s here in New York, arrived today. It can’t be coincidence.”
“
I’d say your odds of success just improved,” Conroy said. “If Contreras has the diamond and sapphire, it’s easier to steal them from him, a madman, than a Beefeater, although I tossed back a few gins with a Beefeater some years back and I’d say the two are not far apart.”
“
Even if by some miracle we get the diamond and sapphire,” said Christa, “and find the temple, the Breastplate could be destroyed, crushed beneath the collapse that Salvatierra wrote about. The Bible describes the Breastplate as pieces of gold sewn onto a woven tunic. Only the gold on the Breastplate would last all this time. The rest of the tunic would be nothing more than threads.”
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Only the gold would endure,” Conroy said, “and the human spirit. One must never forget the power of spirit.” He smiled. “The spirit is what enlightens.” He yanked open the bottom drawer of his desk to the crash and roll of the objects it contained. He scrimmaged around in it, extracting a small archaeologist’s hammer and chisel. He slipped them into his jacket pocket and hurried to his office door. “It is not a miracle we need, but a sin. We need to break the seventh commandment. We have little time to save the future.”
CHAPTER
37
A knock rapped on Jared Sadler’s hotel room door. He peeked out the peephole. It was Baltasar Contreras, precisely on time. Jared had rang Fox only thirty minutes earlier. It would be fifteen minutes at best before the agent would arrive.
Jared’s heart quickened. He clenched his fingers in a vain attempt to stop their trembling. As Contreras pushed him up the ranks to his position of Crown Jeweler, the man had taught him to be a master of deception and Jared had nearly succeeded. He had stolen two of the most revered gemstones in the British Crown Jewels, replacing them with forgeries, and gotten away with it. Nobody even knew a crime had been committed. Now his life, his immortal soul and millions of lives depended on his most challenging deception yet, to deceive the true master of lies.
Jared breathed in deeply and opened the door. “Baltasar,” he said, “my friend.” He stepped back. He prayed the man wouldn’t smell his fear.
Contreras entered and scanned the room like a cougar on the prowl. He was impeccably dressed, as always, in a custom-tailored cashmere suit, blue silk tie that Jared recognized from Harrod’s Room of Luxury collection and his trademark linen knit gloves. Contreras did not remove his gloves before the men shook hands. Jared had never seen him without them. Contreras had admitted once that he was germ phobic, not surprising for a head of a pharmaceutical company. His skin must crawl at the thought of the millions of deadly, invisible creatures outflanking him. His firm waged a daily war against them and Baltasar believed in the maxim, know thy enemy, no matter how much that thought terrified him. He wore the original gold ring that Jared had crafted for him over the glove. His featured a stunning pear-cut diamond.
A second man followed Contreras into the hotel room. He was a large, muscular man whose off-the-rack Armani barely contained his beefy physique. He wore a bandage around his left pinky finger and a grim expression despite his brief, forced smile. In his right hand, he carried an aluminum Halliburton briefcase. Jared stepped back again to allow for the man’s presence in his room.
Contreras surveyed the furnishings, targeting the paisley Queen Anne wing chair to accommodate his ample girth. He sat and crossed his legs to give the appearance of relaxation, but Jared knew better. The beefy man set the briefcase at his feet and stood, wide-stanced, by the door, his arms like weapons holstered across his chest.
Jared moved towards the writing desk. He tried to keep his eyes from the bottle of Dom Perignon, leaning like a war-weary guard in the silver-plated ice bucket. He noted with alarm that a few drops of condensed water spotted the desk. The atmosphere of dread that Contreras carried into the room made the idea of celebration wildly inappropriate.
“
I see you’ve received the champagne I had sent up,” Contreras said.
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Yes, thank you,” said Jared. Perhaps he had misread the man, as he often had before. If Contreras desired to toast the conclusion of their deal, Jared was prepared to play along. “I’m afraid they only sent up two flutes.”
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That will do nicely,” said Contreras. “Won’t it Mister Torrino?” He looked towards his man, but this Torrino stayed as stiff and straight-faced as a palace guard. “But first we must conclude our business.” He leaned forward. “Today is the day, Jared. Our plan is in forward gear and is gaining speed quickly. Do you have them?”
Jared hesitated. He had been so sure, before. Contreras’s very presence reminded him that he had believed in their cause, enough to achieve what others would condemn as treason. How could he deny his conviction that this was not only his duty to Queen and country but his destiny in life?
Baltasar Contreras had shown him how a new empire could rule the world, with a peace and prosperity unequalled in the annals of history. Jared would be instrumental in bringing that about. Yes, some would die, as they had on the fields of Agincourt, in the African wastelands and in the mountains of India. That was necessary. Jared had understood and accepted that. Only this time their deaths would not be in vain. This new world empire would not fall, as so many of his countrymen had in so many wars to end all wars.
He turned to the window, looked down at the people below. The police who had come to break up the row between the two men had restored the peace and left, quiet and without thanks. No, if Jared advanced Contreras’s plan, he would be a traitor, not only to his country but to all of mankind. Much worse than this, in proving that Heaven existed, he would condemn himself to Hell. He would never again see his beloved Alba. His only chance at redemption was to risk betraying Baltasar Contreras and warn Agent Fox about the man’s machinations.