The Celtic Conspiracy (20 page)

Adam looked up at her, his composure obviously returning. “Hey, where are you going?”

“I have to think, Adam Shane. I just have to think. And for that, I need to get some space. Please, stay here. I won’t be long.”

* * *

Deborah was completely transported. Everything she’d been able to translate in the last hour demonstrated the magnitude and wealth of knowledge that had been stored in this secret library. It was like a revelation and an indictment at the same time.

“My God, these sketches are building plans that use the teachings of Pythagoras,” she said to herself. “It’s true then. The Druids had access to this knowledge.” She remembered that only recently on Mont Beuvray, a good thirty miles west of Autun in France, the use of the Pythagorean theorem had been proven in the construction of a water basin more than 2,500 years old.

Proud and awestruck at the same time, Deborah sat in the middle of the embassy basement in a climate-controlled tent and preserved the parchment. First she opened them
under high temperatures and high humidity, so that she could photograph them, and then she secured them under glass.

On another scroll there were numerous symbols, including one that reminded her of the Bohr atomic model. “Can that really be?” she wondered aloud.

“So, Deborah, how’s it coming?” MacClary said, breaking her from her reverie. He’d unexpectedly come down into the basement room and was walking around like a fascinated little boy among the spread-out scrolls.

“I’m still in a state of shock. Just look here.” Deborah pointed to the drawings and sketches she had just discovered.

“Unbelievable. That reminds me of the story of the all-knowing one that my uncle tried to get me to believe,” MacClary said as he sat next to Deborah at the table.

“The all-knowing one?”

“Yes, that’s what he called the initiates. They were, according to the legend, the preservers of an old advanced civilization that knew the creation story of humankind. They were also supposedly very advanced technologically.”

“You’re not talking about Atlantis or Mu or something like that?”

“No, no, that would just be more mystic paraphrasing for something that the newly arising centers of power in the East and Rome were afraid of.”

“I don’t understand a word you’re saying.”

MacClary took a deep breath and continued. “These so-called initiates, my dear Deborah, were no conspirators.
Quite the contrary, they always represented the forces that tried, with patience and wisdom, to disentangle precisely those conspiracies and that confusion that had been built up to herd the masses into spiritual and material addiction. They tried to explain things in the framework of the perceptible world and to explain the question of ‘from where’ and ‘where to’ regarding our genesis and our demise. This was a far cry from using a god to explain this. In contrast to the religious scholars who were always servants to power, the initiates, with very few exceptions, shared all of their knowledge with their inquisitive students so that it could be transferred into the common experience.”

“That’s incredible! I still don’t understand the half of it, but...”

“I’m firmly convinced that truths have been kept from us in a battle that has been waged for centuries, truths that were a key to explaining creation in a way that had little to do with the deities we promoted. It wouldn’t be so difficult to explain the history of humankind if it hadn’t been hidden in legends or destroyed by interference from the ruling castes.”

“And the Druids were...?”

“The last of these initiates. Initiates who could have helped today’s metaphysicists, theologists, and philosophers by providing incredible contributions to the clarification of the question of creation—with or without a god.”

“That’s why they had to die and were persecuted.”

“Exactly! The Vatican played a large part in that. What we have lying in front of us here is important, of course, but it’s nothing in comparison to what would await us in the Vatican’s archives, as long they haven’t, in their insanity, destroyed everything there.”

“Well, the apple that Adam bit into takes on a whole new meaning, then,” Deborah said, grinning, as she turned to open the next scroll.

MacClary roared with laughter. “Very good, my dear friend, very good. You’ve got a handle on that message from the Old Testament as well.”

* * *

MacClary’s good humor was soon pushed away by far more serious thoughts. One thing was clear: if humans could really explain their origin, the social and cultural consequences would be incalculable. They might even find God, this god who was perhaps only a word, a thought, a bundle of light waves, or perhaps even completely without form.

Sovereignty, as humankind had known it until now, would no longer be possible. Everything that people had believed in for centuries would collapse and Christian values would have no meaning anymore. In their contemporary debates, modern metaphysicists and religious philosophers were already arguing about whether there actually was a deliberate act of creation.

Jennifer had described it once so beautifully: God is not an object. Perhaps people could find God again inside themselves. Not a tangible god, but rather something to be experienced. Something that was best experienced in love—and in the recognition that everything is connected with everything else. There must have been so much knowledge about this back then, and the destruction of this knowledge was worth everything. If there were a place where they might be able to find more, then it would be the Vatican.

“We have to get in there, no matter the cost,” he said to himself as he strode toward the telephone and dialed quickly.

“Mr. Langster, I would like to call a special session of the judges for tomorrow at twelve o’clock noon. This is unofficial. Do I make myself clear?”

* * *

Even just a few seconds ago, Deborah hadn’t taken MacClary’s words that seriously. Now, though, she began to get uneasy looking at one of the last scraps of parchment she had spread open. There were more riddles here. It wasn’t written by a Druid or by a pagan; the Latin was too perfect for that, and it was written in a style that would seem to correspond more to that of a Christian monk from that period. However, according to the author, the leaders of the Celts stood closer to the tradition of the creation story than all the other peoples of Europe.
Just as the Vikings had traveled to America a good four hundred years before Columbus, the Druids had been in Asia before the founding of Rome, specifically in India and the Middle East. If they had had contact with the pharaohs, that would explain a lot. There was no proof of that, though, and the writing further down the scroll was so blurred that she couldn’t get anything more from it.

“Ronald?” Deborah called out. “I’m done for now.”

“Then drive back with me. There’s certainly more to do, and we have to see what we can do for your crazy friend Thomas Ryan. Above all, we have to find out who attacked him.”

It is you who should fear the judgment you pass, more than I who am receiving it.

—Giordano Bruno

The taxi turned into Arbour Hill and came to an abrupt stop, causing MacClary’s head to jerk forward.

“Be careful!”

“Sorry,” the driver responded quickly, “but that man wasn’t watching where he was going.”

A somewhat rickety-looking old man was crossing the street without a care, and MacClary saw that the iron gate to his house was just closing. Ms. Copendale had told him yesterday that she had seen an old man regularly walking up and down the street and seemingly watching the house. She said that he’d once even gone to MacClary’s door by mistake. After everything that had happened lately, MacClary had an uneasy feeling. The man
didn’t look in the slightest bit dangerous, but MacClary wanted to get to the bottom of it.

“Deborah, you go on ahead. I’ll be there soon.”

“What?” Deborah asked. “What are you planning?”

“I’m just going to take a little walk. Alone.”

* * *

While Shane was sleeping in the guest room, Jennifer had made herself comfortable in front of the fire in the library again. This chair had been her favorite place for at least fifteen years, as long as she had known Ronald.

Deborah entered and asked after Adam. Before Jennifer could answer, the front door slammed, and Jennifer heard MacClary mutter a curse as he strode into the library.

“My goodness, Ronald, what’s gotten into you?” Jennifer asked. She had rarely seen him so furious.

MacClary didn’t answer but went directly to his desk. He wrote something on a pad of paper, big enough that they could all read it when he held it up.

THE HOUSE IS BUGGED. WE’RE DRIVING TO THE EMBASSY.

Jennifer was stunned.

“Where’s Adam?” MacClary asked, clearly trying to keep his voice calm.

“He’s sleeping, but I’ll go wake him.”

Jennifer went to the guest room and gently opened the door. Adam lay on his stomach, sound asleep.

“Adam, please, wake up,” she said, laying her hand on his head. Her mother had always awakened her like that when she was little because Jennifer would become so frightened when woken suddenly.

Adam turned on his back and opened his eyes slowly. “What? Oh, Jennifer, do I have to?”

Jennifer bent down to whisper in his ear. When she told him why he needed to get up, Adam’s eyes shot open wide.

* * *

If what Jennifer said was true, it was the best explanation for everything that had happened in Austria. Who was behind it, though? Shane sat up with some difficulty. Slowly he got dressed and tried to organize his racing thoughts. How far would all of this go? A cold feeling was crawling up his spine. More than anything, he was worried about Thomas. What if his attacker could track him down after all?

Just as Shane was coming out of the room, the doorbell rang. Jennifer and Ronald were already standing in the entryway waiting for him with serious expressions on their faces. Only Jennifer gave him a quick smile.

Ronald opened the door, and three young men, dressed inconspicuously and loaded down with bags, greeted him. “We got here as quickly as we could,” one of the men said, somewhat out of breath.

“I appreciate your promptness.”

Ronald went on to deliver a set of veiled instructions that Shane understood to be directions for sweeping the house of bugs. He then thanked the men and went out. Jennifer and Shane followed him to his car. As MacClary backed out, he said, “We’ll talk when we get to the embassy, all right?” Shane understood that Ronald was worried that the car was bugged as well.

* * *

Jennifer looked out the window for the duration of the trip. How did Ronald know so suddenly that they had been bugged? She was sure he had more to tell them.

The steel gate to the embassy grounds opened slowly after they were cleared. The ambassador, John Baxter, was already waiting in front of the entrance.

“Good evening, Mr. MacClary,” the ambassador said. “I hope we could take care of everything to your satisfaction. Have you already spoken with Washington?”

“No, I haven’t. I have to clarify a few things, before I get everyone riled up.”

“Understood.”

The four walked to the office Ronald used at the embassy. As soon as he closed the door, Ronald’s face dropped. “Adam, I have no idea how to say this. I need to apologize to you. And to you as well, Jennifer. I neither wanted nor expected that this would go so far. I think it’s time we let it go. This insanity must stop immediately.”

Jennifer found herself instantly agitated by Ronald’s words. “You want to give up?
Now
, when you finally have everything you need?”

“I can’t bear the responsibility for this anymore. The news that my home was bugged will spread like wildfire through Washington. The ambassador can’t keep it a secret without risking his own head. And then the attack on Thomas... What have I started? I’m going to turn over the artifacts to the appropriate archaeological institute in London immediately. I’m sure someone there will be aware of their significance. But we are out of this.”

Ronald sat down, looking older than Jennifer had ever seen him. Adam had been silent until now, but he spoke at last. “Ronald, honestly, I don’t understand. You can’t really—”

“I can’t do anything at all, Adam. I have a responsibility to my position, and I have sworn an oath not to endanger the content and processes of the office with my own private ambitions.”

Jennifer couldn’t let Ronald continue down this road. “Tell me something, Ronald. Has Ruth ever told you anything about what happened to your father?”

Ronald looked at her curiously. “What could she tell me that I don’t already know?”

Jennifer sat to deliver this news. “Your father was ready to risk his life for his work, and he paid for it with his life.”

Ronald paled. “What are you saying?”

“So you really have no idea.”

“Idea about what?”

“Ruth told us that your father was poisoned. Your mother and Ruth swore that you would never find out about it, and they’ve spent a lifetime trying to keep you from following in his footsteps. They were afraid that you would suffer his fate.”