Solomon's Scrolls, page 8
part #1 of A North and Swiftwater Thriller Series
“I never thanked you last night for your quick thinking. Setting off the fireworks early was a smart move. None of my guests had the slightest idea that something else was happening behind the château. Thank you.”
Vallin nodded. “It was the only thing I could think of at the time.”
“Keep it up. These next few days will require all the skill and intuitive improvisation we can come up with to help lead us to the greatest prize in all of history.”
Vallin wasn’t used to his boss speaking to him in such a serious manner. On any other day, it would have been one witticism after another until Vallin lost his temper and stormed out of DuFour’s office. He preferred his boss’ new demeanor but wished he would take him into his confidence. What did he mean by the greatest prize? Hyperbole or fact? Vallin had no idea, but if there was a threadbare chance that a fortune was waiting to be found, he wanted in on it. After all, retiring to a private island in French Polynesia wouldn’t be cheap.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Ireland
Connor relaxed on a long wooden bench, looking out at the barren hills on Clare Island as their ferry crossed Clew Bay’s dark, cold waters. The cold mist from the water splashed on his face, making him wrap a tartan-colored scarf around his neck to keep himself warm. A quick flight from Paris to Dublin, followed by a leisurely drive across Ireland to its west coast, had given Connor the time to unwind after his deadly run-in with DuFour’s men.
“What do you think?” asked Kim, holding up a small leprechaun doll with wavy, green hair, wearing an oversized hat on its head.
Connor chuckled. “Where on earth did you get that?”
“While you stood in line to buy us some tea, I picked it up at the gift shop before boarding the ferry. Do you think my niece will like it?”
Connor smiled. “I’ve never met Tiva, but it looks comical enough. I’m sure she’ll like it.”
Kim opened a pocket on her dark-blue Gortex jacket and slid the creature inside. “I try to buy Tiva a souvenir each time I go somewhere. I think it helps brighten her world.”
“That’s a nice thought. You’re better at this stuff than I am. I’ve never given my sister’s boys a single thing from Africa. I’ll have to do better next time.”
“How old are your nephews?”
“Nolan is five, and his younger brother, Owen, is two.”
Kim smiled warmly. “I hope they’re good kids, not like my sister and I.”
“What trouble can a five and two-year-old get up to?”
“You’d be amazed.”
“Yes, probably.” Connor sat forward and lowered his voice. “Kim, can I ask you a personal question?”
“Sure. What’s on your mind?”
“Yesterday, when we spoke to Jason, you were very quick to accept his offer of one hundred K. I understand about your sister and her daughter, but I feel there’s more you’re holding back.”
Kim paused and looked out over the water for a moment before answering. “Connor, have you ever been poor? And I don’t mean not being able to afford the latest cellphone or a new, wide-screen TV, but dirt poor?”
Connor shook his head. “No, I can’t say I was ever poor. My dad made a decent wage, and I worked every summer as soon as I turned thirteen until I joined the Marines. So, I’ve always had money.”
“Well, I have been, and I hated it. I wasn’t lying when I said that my grandparents never had enough money and scraped by living off their meager old-age pensions. My sister and I wore poorly fitting, second-hand clothes and lived in a house on a reserve that should have been condemned years ago. To save money, my grandparents wouldn’t turn the furnace on in the middle of winter and only heated the room they were in at the time, so we were always cold. If it weren’t for the charity of others, my sister and I wouldn’t have had food for lunch at school. Connor, I hated my childhood and never want to live like that again. I don’t want my niece to, either.”
Connor heard the pain and sadness in Kim’s voice and felt terrible for her. “I’m sorry that you had to grow up like that. It sounds awful.”
Kim faintly smiled. “It was. But as you like to point out, it’s in the past, so let’s look to the future, shall we?”
“Agreed.”
The ferry started to slow. A handful of people stood on the pier to welcome the boat’s occupants. The ferry pilot smoothly docked his ship and switched off its engines as Connor and Kim gathered up their small packs and walked onto the pier.
“Good day, Darcy and Stephanie,” called out a short man standing next to a rusty, 1980s, green Austin Mini Cooper. He wore thick glasses on his wrinkled face and had a mop of unkempt, white hair that made him look like Albert Einstein’s double.
Connor waved back at the man. They walked over and shook their contact’s hand.
“Oh my,” said Keeley, with a thick, Irish accent, as he looked up at Kim. “I don’t know how I’ll ever get the two of you in my car.”
Kim smiled. “Don’t worry; I’ve been in tighter places before. I’ll get in the back and hold my knees against my chest.”
Keeley held open the door as Kim contorted her body onto the back seat. The room on the passenger side for Connor wasn’t much better, but thankfully the drive was only three kilometers. Keeley parked next to a rustic-looking cottage with a thatched roof constructed in the seventeenth century. Connor helped Kim climb out of the back of the Mini and then grabbed their packs.
“Welcome to my humble home,” said Keeley, unlocking his wooden front door. “Shall I put on a pot of tea?”
“Yes, please,” responded Kim right away.
Connor stepped into Keeley’s home and was instantly taken aback by the memorabilia adorning the walls. There were pictures of dig sites from all over the world, alongside dozens of small artifacts discovered at some of the locations. Keeley’s home reminded Connor of a small but well-furnished museum. His eyes were drawn to a collection of medieval weapons hanging beside the fireplace.
“I see you like my toys,” said Keeley.
“Are they real?” asked Connor, admiring an axe.
Keeley shook his head. “No, they’re all replicas of some of the weapons I unearthed at a dig in Bannockburn, Scotland, when I was a wee lad in my late teens.”
“They look real to me.”
“They’re supposed to. Now, let’s all take a seat next to the fire and warm up after your ride over from the mainland.”
Connor turned his attention back to their guest and noticed for a brief second a small, faded tattoo of a medieval-style red cross on the underside of Keeley’s right wrist. He thought about asking him what it meant but decided to let it go for now.
Kim and Connor sat in a pair of old rocking chairs while Keeley filled the cups. To help everyone see better in the poorly lit home, Keeley lit an old-fashioned kerosene lamp and placed it on the mantle above the fireplace.
“Thanks,” said Kim, sipping her black tea. “It’s perfect.”
“You’re welcome. It’s not often that I get a pretty lady for company these days,” Keeley said, winking at Kim.
“Their loss,” noted Kim with a captivating smile.
Connor opened his pack and hauled out the four journals. “Sir, we were asked to bring these books here to you in the hope you might be able to translate what’s written inside of them.”
“Yes, Mister Knox called yesterday to let me know you’d be coming, and please call me Barry. Sir sounds so old.”
Connor handed over the journals. “We were told that if anyone can decipher these books, it’s you.”
Keeley opened one of the journals at random and started to read. He closed the book, opened another, and carried on reading. Smiling, Keeley said, “This shouldn’t be a problem. It’s the same shorthand my grandfather used to record his notes. I read in one of his dairies that years ago, in the Holy Land, he taught Rosemary DuFour how to use the code for her notes, too.”
“If you ask me, this is an incredible stroke of good luck finding you,” said Kim.
“No. Not really.”
“Why not?”
“Because Jason Hamilton tracked me down about ten years ago and paid me to translate two of his books. It’s these new ones I’ve never seen before today.”
Kim and Connor exchanged a puzzled look.
Connor raised a hand. “Sir, I mean, Barry, I’m starting to get confused. Jason told us that he couldn’t read any of his books because the notes had been recorded in a form of secret shorthand.”
Keeley chuckled. “Well, my fine friends, that’s because he lied to the two of you. Tell me, does he still introduce Henry Knox as his lawyer?”
“Yes, he does,” said Kim.
Connor ground his teeth. How many layers of deceit were there to his ex-father-in-law and his friend?
Keeley shook his head. “Bah! Henry’s no more a lawyer than I am a movie star. A better description for Mister Knox would be an obtainer of rare and priceless items for the rich and well-to-do.”
“Well, that would explain a lot,” observed Connor, wishing Hamilton and Knox were in the room so he could tell them what he thought of them. “An awful lot.”
Keeley placed the journals on a small round table next to his feet. “By the looks on your faces, there’s a lot you don’t know about these two fine gentlemen.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” agreed Connor.
“Let me see. To put things into perspective, Jason Hamilton believes he’s descended from one of the founding members of the Knights Templar. This is why he has been after these other journals for nearly a decade. He’s what we call a pseudo-archaeologist in my business. He’s more interested in the legends surrounding ancient treasures than the actual historical facts.”
“I’m starting to feel dirty,” said Kim with a shudder. “I hope his money is at least real.”
Keeley smiled. “Aye, that it is. He paid me ten thousand Euros in advance to translate these last two journals.”
“Someone has a lot of explaining to do the next time we meet,” stated Connor, frowning.
Kim placed a hand on her forehead. “Oh God, I think I need a drink.”
“There’s some whiskey on the dinner table. I think a glass or two may be in order.”
“I’ll get it,” Kim said, getting to her feet.
As Kim walked by, Connor looked at her. “Remember when you told me that Jason Hamilton was nuanced? Oh, he’s bloody nuanced, all right.”
“Would you mind if I translated the books into Gaelic?” asked Keeley. “I find it helpful to keep the language alive.”
“Not at all,” replied Connor, turning on a small tape recorder and handing it to Keeley. “We can use an app and translate it back into English at the hotel. Just make sure you speak clearly into the mic.”
An hour later, Keeley put down the last book, handed Kim the recorder, and shook his head.
“So, what can you tell us?” asked Kim, leaning expectantly forward in her chair.
Keeley downed his glass of whiskey and faced his guests. “Much of what’s written in the journals relates to the day-to-day drudgery of working at a dig site. And that’s to be expected, but I found a few tidbits of information I didn’t know before tonight.”
“Such as?”
Keeley cleared his throat. “How much do you two know about the First Crusade of 1099 that traveled from Europe to liberate the Holy Land?”
“We read what there was online before coming to Ireland,” replied Connor. “To be honest, it’s not an era I’ve read much about. I was, however, a little shocked to read about the massacre of Jewish and Muslim civilians after the Crusaders had taken Jerusalem. You won’t see that in any of the old, classic, black-and-white movies about the Crusades.”
“Sadly, the mass murder of innocent civilians, especially after a long and brutal siege, was common practice by all sides back then.”
“Mister Hamilton mentioned something about finding a tomb, possibly related to a dead Templar Knight,” said Kim. “Is that true?”
Keeley smiled and nodded. “Yes, it is. The tomb belonged to Sir Henry Wolfe, a devout Christian who left England in 1098 to participate in the First Crusade. He was wounded in battle and lived long enough to witness the founding of the Knights Templar in 1119 at the Temple Mount. Unfortunately, he died a year later and was entombed along with several religious artifacts.”
Kim’s eyes lit up. “Such as?”
Keeley picked up a book and adjusted his glasses. “Let’s see. There’s a portion of the true cross, a nail that had been driven through Jesus’ feet, and a golden cup that Jesus had drunk from at his last supper.”
“Good God, are you telling me they found the Holy Grail?”
Keeley shook his head. “No, not at all. Relics like the ones I’ve just described were a dime a dozen back then. Even my grandfather acknowledged that in one of his books.”
“What was so important about this tomb?” asked Connor.
“Have either of you ever heard of Solomon’s Copper Scrolls?”
Kim and Connor shook their heads.
“Between 1946 and 1956, a series of scrolls were discovered in a cave and were called the Dead Sea Scrolls because of where they were found. One of the scrolls was unique because it was written on copper, not papyrus. This scroll is essentially an inventory of gold and silver hidden throughout the Holy Land. To date, no one has found these mythical stashes of gold, and probably never will. However, according to legends dating back to the First Crusade, when Jerusalem was put to the sword, an English knight found a hidden chamber under the Temple Mount containing four copper scrolls. These scrolls allegedly describe in detail where King Solomon’s vast riches were hidden before the Egyptians sacked his temple in 926 BCE.”
Kim asked, “Are you talking about things like the Ark of the Covenant?”
“Most definitely. And not just the Ark. I’m talking about over two trillion Euros in gold. I’m also talking about religious relics dating back to the Garden of Eden if you believe such a place once existed.”
“This is getting interesting,” remarked Connor. “And by English knight, you mean Sir Henry Wolfe, don’t you?”
Keeley nodded. “Yes, I do.”
“So, did Rosemary DuFour find the scrolls when they excavated his tomb?” Kim asked.
“Unfortunately, not.” Keeley stood and shuffled over to a wall covered in dusty bookshelves. “Unlike my grandfather, I’m not an expert on the Templars. I can’t remember where he wrote it, but my grandfather strongly believed that the scrolls weren’t actually scrolls but copper tablets about the size of a hardcover book. He also wrote that the scrolls were taken out of the Holy Land to a Templar castle on the island of Cyprus a few years after Wolfe died.”
“And then what happened to them?”
Keeley shrugged. “No one knows for sure. Don’t forget this is just a legend; the scrolls may have never existed.”
Connor looked into the elderly scholar’s pale blue eyes. “I was once told that all legends have a grain of truth in them. Do you believe the copper scrolls once existed?”
Keeley hemmed and hawed for a few seconds. “My grandfather did, so why not? But I can assure you that nothing in any of these journals could point you to the whereabouts of these missing scrolls. None whatsoever.”
“So, we’re at a dead end,” said Kim.
Keeley raised a finger. “Maybe not. I know of a young lady in Germany who might be able to help you.”
“Are you sure she’s the right person for the job?” asked Connor.
“I don’t go in for all these conspiracy theories, but one of my students did, and he couldn’t help but go on about this woman morning, noon, and night. I think he said her name was Katarina or something like that. Patrick said she has the most comprehensive electronic library of legends and conspiracies in all of Europe. So, if the scrolls existed at one time, I suppose she’d be the person to ask. But I must warn you; I hear she’s a tad bit paranoid of strangers, the government, dogs, chemtrails, well, just about everything.”
“Great, a lunatic,” said Connor under his breath.
“Professor, do you think she’d be willing to talk with us?” asked Kim.
“Yes. Maybe. I don’t know. I’ll need to chat with Patrick first.”
“Can’t we just call this Katarina person direct?” asked Connor.
Keeley shook his head. “Lord, no. These conspiracy people take their anonymity very seriously. Katarina will be the one to decide where and when the meeting will take place, if it does at all. I’ll see if Patrick can help you meet her.”
Connor got to his feet and stretched out his back. He looked out the window as the sun slowly began to dip below the horizon, painting the sky with pink and golden hues. With night approaching, Connor was happy they’d thought to call ahead and book a couple of rooms at a B&B overlooking the harbor. He was about to suggest they all head into town for a bite to eat when he heard a faint, familiar sound and froze. His breathing slowed as he concentrated on the noise, which grew closer by the second. Connor spun on his heel and faced his companions. “Barry, what kind of helicopters does Ireland use for search and rescue work?”
“I don’t know; they all look alike to me. But I think they’re painted red and white. Why do you ask?”
“Barry, douse your lights. We’ve got company.”
Fear filled Kim’s eyes. “Connor, what’s wrong?”
Connor pointed out the window. “A green BO-105 chopper is coming this way, and I doubt it’s packed with tourists.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Keeley hurriedly shuffled around his home, switching off the lights.
“Barry, is there another way out of here other than the back door?” asked Connor, apprehensively watching four men wearing dark combat-style clothing and balaclavas jump out of the helicopter hovering over an open field a hundred yards away. What troubled him more were the MP5 submachine guns the assassins were carrying.
“Yes, but I’ve never used it.” replied the old scholar.
