CS 01 The Grail Conspiracy (10 page)

"So someone could have gotten the tape, realized you had been
there, and found out where you live."

"Yes." She felt better. He understood she had probable cause for
her anxiety. If John could open the box. . . "You mentioned a reference book?"

"It's here somewhere." He rose and went to the bookcases. His
eyes moved up one shelf and down the other, finally coming to rest
on a tattered cloth-bound book. "This should have something." He
pulled down the volume, placed it on the coffee table, and sat beside
her.

Cotten saw Myths and Magic of the Middle Ages on the cover.

The pages crackled as John leafed through it.

"`Puzzle Cubes and Prize Boxes,"' Cotten said, reading the chapter
title. Beneath was a page of text, and as John flipped through the next
several pages, she saw drawings and diagrams showing the workings
of different box styles.

He studied the diagrams, going back through them repeatedly.
Finally, he said, "This one looks right." He took the box and rotated
it. Gripping the top and bottom, he pulled in opposite directions.
Nothing.

"What do you think?" Cotten asked.

John looked at the diagram again. "I need to figure out which surface is actually the top. Once I do that, it says here that it should open
easily."

He shifted the cube a quarter turn and pulled again. Still nothing. It
took six rotations and additional reading before a faint click sounded.
The top separated, exposing a fine, thin seam.

"I think we've done it," John said.

At the end of the first crusade Jerusalem had been retaken by the Christians. The Prieure de Sion, a group of monks whose objective was to
return the thrones of Europe to the descendants of the Merovingian
bloodline, a bloodline they believed was established through a union
between Jesus and Mary Magdalene, created a military arm of warrior
monks to protect Jerusalem and those who traveled there.

From a simple quest, the new organization grew, made up of the elite
and powerful of Europe having positions of authority in politics, religion, and economics. Free from taxes and accountable only to the pope,
over the centuries, it became one of the world's wealthiest and most
influential organizations. It was called the Knights of the Temple of
Jerusalem or the Knights Templar.

JOHN SET THE BOX on the table before carefully sliding the top sideways. It opened and swung down revealing a tiny set of hinges on the
inside that kept the top attached.

Cotten saw that the inside was filled with a white linen-like cloth
wrapped around an object. "Look at that," she said, pointing at the
corner of the material's top fold. Woven into one corner was a cross
and a five-petal rose, and on the opposite corner were embroidered
two knights riding the same horse-the words Sigillvm Militvm Xpisti
stitched in a circle around them. Although slightly faded with age, the
cross was still red, the rose pink, and the words golden.

"One second," John said. From a drawer in a rolltop desk he withdrew a pair of white cotton gloves. Slipping them on, he cautiously
removed the contents of the box and unwrapped the cloth.

Cotten bit on her bottom lip when the material fell away revealing
a chalice. It was about six inches tall and four inches in diameter at
the rim of the bowl. The surface was a dull gray metal. A simple line
of tiny pewter-colored beads ran around the base, while a necklace of
miniature grapevines curled around the throat.

"It's in remarkable shape," he said, "if it's really two thousand
years old." His gloved finger rubbed a small imperfection on the back
side of the Cup. "Other than this little nick, I'd guess it has been well
cared for." John turned the chalice around. "IHS," he said as he
touched the engraving on the side.

"Is it the Grail?" she asked.

"I don't know." He gently pressed into a thick, dark substance
coating the inside. "Probably beeswax."

"It's so ... plain," she said. "I guess I expected something a little
flashier."

"You've seen too many Indiana Jones movies."

"You're awfully calm to be holding what could be the Holy Grail."

"I've been burned in the past by a few clever fakes of other artifacts."

"Well, this is my first, so bear with me while I get excited." She
grinned, and he returned a smile. Cotten pointed at the engraving.
"What's IHS?"

"It's the emblem-like a monogram-for Jesus' name. The early
Christians used the three letters during Roman times to identify each
other. It's also the first three letters of His name in Greek. And in
Latin, some say it stands for In Hoc Signo Vinces, or In This Sign You
Shall Conquer. My guess is the engraving was added much later, perhaps while it was in Antioch."

"So you believe Archer was right?"

John held the relic up so the light shone on it from different
angles. "I wish I could say for sure. I'll admit that Archer's theory
seems to ring true." He ran his fingers over the needlework on the
cloth.

"Are the words significant? And the cross, the rose-the knights?
What do they mean?"

The red cross had four equal arms that flared at the ends. "Croix
Patee," he said. Then he touched the golden threads forming the words Sigillvm Militvm Xpisti. "Seal of the Army of Christ. The dog
rose was their symbol-rosa carina. It stood for the virgin and the
virgin birth, chosen because the dog rose doesn't need to be crosspollinated to produce its fruit, the rose hip."

"Talk to me," Cotten said. "What does it mean?"

"Near the end of the Seventh Crusade a group of religious zealots,
known as the Knights Templar, was formed. They wore the Cross
Pattie-the Templar's Cross-emblazoned on their white habits, and
their seal was two knights riding the same horse, a symbol of their
vow of poverty. Their mission was to protect the treasures of the great
temple of Jerusalem. It is suspected that in reality, they plundered the
wealth of the temple and hid it away. Instead of being impoverished,
they became exceedingly wealthy as well as powerful, answering only
to the Church. Some of the Templars claimed to be of divine lineage,
descendants of a proposed union between Jesus and Mary Magdalene. They also proclaimed themselves as Guardians of the Grail."

John held up the chalice. "If this is truly the Cup from the Last
Supper, it would be the most prized relic in the Church-in all of
Christendom."

"Why the wax?" Cotten asked.

"I would assume to protect the inside from being touched or contaminated. If it held the blood of Christ, it would be considered quite
sacred."

As Cotten stared at the Cup, Archer's dying words still spooked
her. "What about the message that I'm the only one who can stop the
sun, the dawn? How would that tie in?"

He shook his head. "No idea."

She shifted. "It really bothers me, John. If I'm the only one to do
whatever Archer was talking about, then I'm the only one they're
looking for."

«WhO?"

"Whoever broke into my apartment. I've got a bad feeling about
the whole thing. You weren't there when the Arab pulled the gun and
tried to kill Archer. He wasn't just stealing some old trinket box. He
was driven-I saw it in his eyes. It was creepy. Archer believed he had
the Grail, and whoever tried to kill him was convinced of it, too. Even
you said if it's genuine, it would be the most valuable relic in the
world. It's a logical conclusion that whoever searched my apartment
was looking for it."

"Maybe you're right."

Cotten put both hands to her mouth and spoke into them as if
guarding the words so they didn't escape her lips too quickly. "I could
have been hiding the biggest religious story of the century underneath the lid of my stove."

"Are you Catholic?" John asked.

"No." Her expression turned from wonderment to puzzlement.

"Christian?"

Her fingers intertwined in her lap. "I'm not sure I know how to
answer that."

"Embarrassed to tell me because I'm a priest?"

"No, I really don't know how to answer. I used to go to church,
believe in religion, God, all that."

John looked at her as if trying to read her thoughts.

"I was born in Kentucky, an only child-my twin sister died at
birth. My father was a farmer; we were poor. When I was six there was
a terrible drought, and we lost everything. The bank foreclosed, and
my father committed suicide. Mama always said she thought there
was something more, something else troubling my father. He'd been
despondent for quite a while, even before the drought, but nobody
knew why. He wrote a note blaming God for ruining our lives. At the time, I agreed with him. Before the drought, we were a churchgoing
family.

"After my father died, my mother and I moved to a small house,
and she went to work in a textile mill-we barely got by for years."

"Well then, you do believe. In order to blame God, you have to
believe He exists."

"That's how I felt back then. When I got older, I realized the saying on the bumper sticker is right-shit happens. It was just a frigging drought." She wiggled her fingers in the air. "Nothing supernatural, no divine hand descending from the heavens to smite the Stone
family. My father needed to blame something, someone. He hung it
on God. I let go of that a long time ago-never went back to church."

"I'm sorry about your father and what happened to your family."

"Why did you ask me about my religion?"

"I just wondered what this," he motioned to the Cup, "means to
you.

"Actually, a great deal-but probably not what you think. If this is
the real thing, it means the biggest story of my career. It could be my
ticket to a senior correspondent's position at the network."

He stared at her in silence.

"We all look at things differently, John. Like my father and I-he
blamed God; I blamed a lack of one. This relic could be your salvation. And it could be mine, too. But in a different way." Cotten leaned
back her head, eyes closed, then looked at him again. "I'm sorry, but
you and I just don't have the same beliefs."

He held up his hand. "That's not a problem. Hey, my closest
friend is a Jewish rabbi. We grew up together. He's one of those
friends you don't see much, but know you can count on. But talk
about differing views. We're the real odd couple. You can imagine
some of the discussions we've had over the years."

"Look," she said, "besides the career move, the sooner I write this
story, the sooner I can stop looking over my shoulder. Once I tell the
world about the Grail, the focus will be on it, not me. I'll be just
another byline." She moved to the edge of the couch, aware that he
watched her. "So how do we prove it's the real deal?"

"Well, the metalwork is fairly easy to match to a known style and
time period. The wood and the hinge of the box can also be dated
and matched to others like it-so can the cloth. And the beeswax can
be pinned down with radiocarbon dating."

"What's next?"

"I'd like to take it to Rome. The dating technology at the Vatican
is some of the best in the world."

"Why the Vatican? I mean I realize that's your thing, but what
about right here in our own backyard? Doesn't Brown, or NYU, or
Columbia have an archaeology department?"

"Sure. But the Vatican has been in the authentication business for
centuries. Who would you rather interview for your report-Professor John Doe of a local university or Cardinal Ianucci, the curator of
the largest collection of religious relics and artifacts in the world?"

"Okay, you've made your point." Cotten smiled shyly. "Do my
aspirations to snag the big story make me greedy?"

"That's what reporters do," he said. "Reporting your story with St.
Peter's Basilica in the background would be impressive."

"Or standing next to a Michelangelo while interviewing that cardinal you mentioned would look good on my demo reel." She shook
her head. "You must think I'm shameless."

"No, I think you take your job seriously, and you work hard at it
to be the best. There's nothing wrong with that. I envy you."

Cotten found his remark curious. "Really?"

"I don't think it's common for most people to live their passions.
Some are lucky, like you. I can see the fire in your eyes. You can't wait
to jump on this story. That's what fills you up. My grandfather was
fortunate that way. He was an archaeologist, too, and when I was a
kid he filled my head with tales of ancient civilizations. Talk about
fire in somebody's eyes. You couldn't help but listen to him and
become excited. Those wondrous stories stayed with me. It's what
made me go on after my ordination for a degree in Medieval and
Byzantine Studies and later in Early Christian Studies."

"I hate to admit it, but I didn't know priests did other stuff. You
know, other than priestly things."

John laughed. "I've done that, too. I was an assistant pastor in a
small parish for a short while."