‘At the heliacal rising of Sirius, a tremendous burst of astral energy is released. The obelisk acts as an antenna to transmit and direct that astral energy along the Axe Historique.’
Kate tipped her head back and peered at the gold cap on top of the monument. ‘So the obelisk acts like a radio tower?’
‘Precisely.’
Just then, Angelika walked towards them, Wolfgang obediently trotting at her heels. ‘I love this feeling,’ she purred. ‘It’s incredibly invigorating. Like the time I rode the waves at Big Sur.’
She was right; there was a palpable energy in the air.
‘What you’re feeling is the discharge of negative ions from the electromagnetically-charged telluric line. The water spewing from the fountains magnifies the effect.’ Dr Uhlemann jutted his chin at the two massive water fountains situated approximately fifty yards away.
‘I don’t care what causes it,’ Angelika replied as she flung her long blonde tresses over her shoulder. ‘It feels so wonderfully –’ A buzzing sound stopped her in midstream. Unclipping the cell phone at her waist, she glanced at the display screen. ‘I must take this call.’ She handed the dog lead to Dr Uhlemann before stepping away from them.
The call was brief, Angelika returning within moments. Approaching Dr Uhlemann, she placed a hand on his shoulder as she leaned close to whisper something in his ear.
Clearly stunned, he said, ‘Are you absolutely certain?’
Angelika nodded. ‘He has an eight-hour drive back to Paris. We’ll have it by one o’clock this afternoon.’
‘Just in time for tomorrow’s heliacal rising.’ Dr Uhlemann turned towards Kate. ‘Our mission in the Languedoc was successful. I’ve just learned that we retrieved the Lapis Exillis from your cohort, Cædmon Aisquith. Twenty-six hours from now we will be able to perform das Groß Versuch and generate the Vril force. “O brave new world!” ’
Hearing that jubilant exclamation, Kate’s heart painfully constricted. ‘Is Cædmon still alive?’ she asked, barely able to get the words out of her mouth.
‘I would certainly hope not,’ Dr Uhlemann snapped testily.
Oh, God … Finn and Cædmon, both dead.
Afraid that she might collapse, Kate grabbed hold of the wrought-iron fence. Unbidden, one of the Four Reminders that Buddhists chant daily popped into her head. Death comes without warning, this body will be a corpse.
‘What about me? Are you planning to kill me, as well?’
His blue eyes glazed from the narcotics in his bloodstream, Ivo Uhlemann tipped his head to one side, scrutinizing Kate as if she was some rare specimen.
A long silence ensued.
Then, shrugging carelessly, he said, ‘I’m still undecided.’
69
Saint Clotilde Basilica, Paris
0638 hours
Bending over the elaborately carved font, Finn scooped holy water into his cupped hands rather than politely dipping his fingers. Eyes closed, he splashed the cool water on to his face. A bracing wake-up tonic.
Out of habit, one engrained at Catholic school, he silently blessed himself. In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost. Then, for good measure, he murmured, ‘Bless me, Father, for I have sinned.’
Water dripping off his chin, Finn snorted to himself. Like I’m telling the Big Kahuna something he doesn’t already know.
Not only had he earlier committed four mortal sins, but he’d committed a major screw-up. He should never have left Kate alone in the cemetery. Christ! What had he been thinking? He was supposed to have kept Kate safe from harm. To protect her from the big bad wolf. But, instead, he left her alone. Sweet, gentle little Katie. Who was too inexperienced to escape from danger. And too scared to hit the target. Hell, she probably didn’t see the Dark Angel approach until it was too late.
Yanking his T-shirt hem up to his face, Finn dried his wet cheeks before he stepped through the double doors that led inside the nave.
Again out of habit, this one engrained by the US military, he scanned the cavernous interior, checking for unfriendlies, and points of egress should he run into any. He could not, under any circumstances, fall into a police dragnet, for the simple reason that he couldn’t rescue Kate from a Paris jail cell.
Although the basilica was constructed in the nineteenth century, it had a distinctly Gothic feel to it. Intimidating in the way that only a Catholic church could be. On each flank, dour-faced martyrs were eternally trapped in the long line of stained-glass windows. Sunken-cheeked and hollow-eyed, they were the guardians of the Faith. Ahead of him, prominently displayed above the altar, was a big golden cross with a dying Jesus nailed to it.
Damned if I do, damned if I don’t.
Verifying that the only person inside the church was a humpbacked crone plying her fingers to a set of rosary beads, Finn walked towards the apse. He didn’t bother bending his head or displaying false piety. He wasn’t there to repent, ask for pastoral guidance, or seek absolution. He was there to reconnoitre. To take a much-needed rest and figure out his next move.
Because, so far, the situation had gone belly up and totally fubar. As in ‘fucked up beyond all repair’.
And had become more fucked up with each passing hour as he’d hit one dead-end after another. If he’d had a knotted cat-tail whip, he would have flogged the shit out of himself. Mortification of the flesh. A time-honoured Catholic tradition practised by those wracked with guilt.
Now, because of his mistake, Kate was at the mercy of –
Don’t go there, soldier! a voice inside his head boomed. In order to find and rescue Kate, he had to stay calm. That meant suppressing his emotions. Turning ’em off and shutting ’em down.
Determined to do just that, Finn ducked to the left, parking his ass on a rush-bottomed chair. Unlike the Catholic churches in Boston, there wasn’t a pew in sight. Exhausted, he stared at the suspended dust particles, tinted red and blue from the early-morning light that shone through the stained-glass windows. Refusing to give in to the urge to close his eyes and catch a quick catnap, he unclipped his cell phone from his waistband. He’d already called Ivo Uhlemann. Repeatedly. Twice at his apartment and three times at the Seven Research Foundation headquarters. Each time, he’d left the same message. ‘The Montségur Medallion is yours in return for Kate Bauer.’
None of his calls had been returned.
Why the hell wasn’t the evil bastard answering the phone?
Surely Uhlemann knew that he had him by the short and curlies. That’s why they’d abducted Kate rather than execute her, to force his hand.
Hand broken, Finn was willing to give them what they’d wanted all along, the damned medallion.
So, just answer the fucking phone! Or at least let me find your sorry ass so we can make the trade.
Since the subway had been closed, he’d earlier retrieved Cædmon Aisquith’s Vespa, using it to go to the Grande Arche. A wasted effort. The Seven Research Foundation office suite had been locked, all of the lights turned off. Not about to call retreat, he then headed to Rue des Saints-Pères, hoping to catch Uhlemann at home. Although he’d scared the hell out of the live-in maid, she claimed that she hadn’t seen or spoken to Herr Doktor Uhlemann in the last twenty-four hours.
Belly up and totally fubar.
For several long moments Finn stared at the cell phone; he had one option left.
Shoving his pride to the wayside, he dialled the number. The call immediately went to Aisquith’s voice mail.