The Templar Reprisals (The Best Thrillers Book 3) Read online

  “Perfect. I’ll change, as well.”

  When they rode up the elevator, Lewis got off on a lower floor, while Evarts continued up to the concierge level. He didn’t call O’Brian until he was inside his suite. At first, his assistant insisted the general couldn’t be disturbed, but Evarts persevered until O’Brian took the call.

  After a terse description of the encounter, Evarts asked, “Jim, what do you think?”

  “We need to discover what Mr. Lewis is up to. Stall about twenty minutes. I’ll have you shadowed.”

  O’Brian hung up.

  Evarts took his time changing and wandered down to the lobby about ten minutes after the appointed time. Lewis had waited for him, dressed as if he was heading for the greens. Evarts wore denims, a black tee, and light windbreaker. The Galls Agent shell had been cut to conceal his gun. After being caught weaponless on Pont Neuf, Evarts carried wherever legally allowed.

  “Sorry, I’m late. Had to call my wife.”

  “No problem,” Lewis answered amiably. “How far is Arlington?”

  “A little under two miles. Counting the walk around the cemetery, probably five miles, round trip. Still up for it?”

  “Absolutely.” He again rubbed his stomach like it was a great trophy. “Let’s walk off some of this blubber.”

  The weather was perfect. Sunny, but no more than seventy degrees. Fall weather in late summer.

  After some pleasantries, Lewis asked questions about the Santa Barbara lodge, and offered corresponding information of his own lodge in Maryland. He was especially interested in their success rate in recruiting new members. He said his lodge had become an old men’s club. Younger people had shown little interest in the Masons. Evarts concurred.

  “Why haven’t you sought a Master Mason degree?” Lewis asked.

  “Who says I haven’t?”

  “Logic. You’ve been a fellow long enough.”

  “Maybe I pissed off some members.”

  “You’re chief of police. That position requires a hell of a lot more tact than being a Mason.” He laughed. “We’re a forgiving bunch.”

  Evarts wondered if he should continue to allow Lewis to direct the conversation or jump over the small talk to get to the point. He suspected they both knew the other was aware where this conversation would eventually lead. As a detective, he had gotten the best results with an unexpected, shocking question.

  “What’s your degree?” Evarts asked.

  “Master Mason.”

  “Not fourth degree.”

  Lewis laughed easily. “There is no fourth degree … unless you take the Scottish thirty-three steps.”

  “The fourth degree is Templar Knight.” Evarts waited a moment and when Lewis said nothing, he added, “Are you a Templar?”

  Lewis walked at least ten paces before responding. “Is that why you’re here in D.C?”

  “What do you think?”

  “I think …” His voice trailed off. He decided to be as direct as Evarts. “How much do you know?”

  “How much do you know?” Evarts responded.

  Now, no hesitation. “We know about Pont Neuf. Very impressive. You’re a Freemason Fellow. We know that in the army, you worked Intelligence, specifically highly technical and highly classified electronic surveillance. You’ve demonstrated impressive leadership capabilities as police chief. In sum, you represent the whole package, so we decided to take a risk and approach you directly.”

  “This accidental meeting and walk are what you call direct? I can see we’re not going to get along.”

  “We’re a secret society … this is very direct for us.”

  “Are you talking about Freemasons?”

  “It’s complicated. I can’t explain right now.”

  “Because you’re not trying to recruit me, you’ve been assigned to assess me.”

  “Correct.”

  “Then you might as well return to the hotel. Not interested. I’m a LEO, not a vigilante.”

  “We’re not vigilantes,” Lewis said insistently.

  “Do you take justice into your own hands?”

  “How much do you know about Templars?”

  “Just what I saw in Paris.”

  “I meant historically.”

  “The broad lines,” Evarts said. “Why is that relevant?”

  “The Templars were more than warriors. They were a religious order of monks who conformed to a strict rule, what today we might call a code of honor. The hallmarks were chastity, obedience, and poverty. They grew from an order assigned to protect Christian pilgrims while traveling in the Holy Land to a pan-European enterprise of almost unimaginable magnitude. They were the sole international bankers of the era, advised monarchs, and even ran the French financial operations. They had landholdings in every European country. Large, impressive holdings. Not fallow ground either, working farms. Highly profitable farms. They owned many castles in the Holy Land and throughout Europe. They operated huge fleets of ships to take pilgrims to the Holy Land and to provide transport for their import/export businesses. The Pope and kings had assigned tithes from many churches to the Templars. In short, the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ and of the Temple of Solomon were a large multi-national organization that was tightly managed and extremely wealthy. The Pope and Kings were beholden to them. Only the church had greater pan-European political influence … and that’s questionable.”

  “Again, how is that relevant?”

  “You asked if we took justice into our own hands.” Lewis quit walking until Evarts stopped and turned to face him. “Governments are societal creations to maintain social order. The Templars are—and have always been—a creation of society to maintain social order.”

  Evarts was shocked. “Are you claiming the authority of a nation-state?”

  “I am … and with better credentials than most governments.”

  Chapter 18

  Evarts started walking again. He quickened his pace. He seethed. How could any secret society believe they had greater authority than nation-states? He and Trish had faced a secret society once before and shut it down. Or at least imprisoned its leaders. He could only assume that the society had withered away, but with the nature of secret societies, who knew for certain.

  After a few more angry steps, Evarts demanded, “What the hell are you talking about? What credentials?”

  “In 1128, Pope Honorius II granted a papal sanction to the military order known as the Knights Templar. He declared us an army of God.”

  Evarts grew increasingly testy. “If that’s your highfalutin credentials, they were rescinded by a later Pope.”

  “Yes, Pope Clement V dissolved the Knights Templar in 1312. But documents released by the Vatican in 2007 show that he didn’t believe the Templars had actually committed heresy.”

  “He disbanded them, just the same.”

  “Clement V had the authority to revoke the papal sanction, but he didn’t have the power to disband the Templars. The Poor Fellow-Soldier of Christ and the Temple Solomon existed prior to the sanction and had a right to exist after it was revoked. But King Philip IV of France used the revocation to propagate the idea that the Templars had committed heresy. A weak-willed Clement V abetted the king by remaining silent. It was Philip IV who had the necessary soldiers to persecute the order out of existence. Or at least, that was his plan. We escaped with much of our treasure and relocated to Scotland.”

  “That’s a self-serving interpretation of history,” Evart said.

  “In what way?”

  “The Catholic Church did more than abet the persecution of Templars. Many priests and bishops across Europe passed sentence on these men and sentenced them to horrific deaths. That doesn’t sound like the Church believed the Templars innocent of heresy.”

  “The Chinon Parchment proves me right,” Lewis said. “Look it up.”

  “I’ve heard of it. But even if your interpretation is accurate, how can you claim nation-state powers?”

  “The United Stat
es became a nation due to the Declaration of Independence. The first paragraph of the Declaration states that the people who inhabited the colonies would ‘assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the laws of nature and of nature's God entitle them.’ Prior to the Declaration, the world was predominantly ruled by the Divine Right of Kings. The Enlightenment set that idea on its head by declaring that rather than monarchs being God’s chosen ones, every man was ‘endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights.’ Templars included. We assumed the equal station to which the laws of nature and of nature’s God entitle us. Although unnecessary, our equal station was recognized officially by the Pope himself. A later Pope did not have the power to undo what God entitled.”

  “Damn it, governments are a social contract. They have only powers delegated to them by the people. Who delegated to you the power to kill?”

  “While I appreciate your high school civics lesson, you know that’s naïve. We may wish that were so, but in truth, government power really comes from the ability to coerce behavior … or terminate life. Only in rare instances have governments been restrained by words on parchment.”

  When Evarts didn’t respond, Lewis added, “Our membership is highly democratic. Far more egalitarian than any nation on earth. We elect our leaders. We have a written code, similar to a constitution. So … even on your terms, we exercise delegated powers.”

  Evarts had remained quiet because he knew that he had let his emotions get the better of him. His goal should be to find out more about the Templars, not challenge their authority or argue philosophical points. Now he had a problem. He had revealed that he didn’t have much sympathy for the Templars. It would be too obvious if he suddenly switched, so he needed a transition that would allow him to continue the dialogue.

  Evarts asked evenly, “Many refer to you as vigilantes. Meting out justice on your own terms. How do you respond to that charge?”

  “The Templars have a code that goes back almost a millennium. We don’t attack indiscriminately, we defend Judeo/Christians against indiscriminate attacks. We were sanctioned by Pope Honorius II to protect the pilgrims on the road to the Holy Land from Islamic raids. We continue to honor that original edict. The Islamists we’ve killed were engaged in terrorism or planning terrorist acts.”

  “A code?” Evarts said. “A chivalrous code?”

  “No, that’s a behavior. Our code is our supreme law. The medieval term was rule, today we simply call it our code.”

  “Did you update the code, or just what you call it?” Evarts asked sarcastically. “I seem to remember that the original rule forbade bathing, sex, ornamentation, and required beards, odd underclothing, and silence at meals … among other things I can’t recall at the moment.”

  “My, very good. Yes, you are quite right. We were a monastic order. However, once freed from the Vatican, we updated our code many times in the last six hundred years. Always democratically, of course.” He laughed. “You’ll notice I wear no beard, I bathe, and I can assure you, my underwear is dull.”

  “Sex?”

  “Restricted, but no longer prohibited.”

  They were approaching the entrance to the cemetery.

  “If you don’t mind … or even if you do, let’s leave this until after our tour of the cemetery. I have friends here.”

  “As do I,” Lewis said. “As do I.”

  Evarts looked at Lewis.

  He returned the gaze. “Our commitment to fight Islamic terrorism does not come without cost.”

  Chapter 19

  The walk around Arlington Cemetery had been somber for Evarts. Lewis had wandered out of sight and Evarts hoped their shadow took note of which graves he visited. You never know where you might find a clue. For his part, Evarts spent some quiet moments at the grave of an army buddy who had died helping him fight another secret society.

  When they met up at the entrance, they both walked quietly back toward the hotel. Who would speak first? Evarts had decided that it would not be him. He thought about projecting indifference, but he knew Lewis would never buy that. The revelations had been too startling. Instead he tried petulance. An angry expression and silence. He hoped that would be viewed as a natural reaction to their prior conversation.

  Nearly halfway back, Lewis spoke. “I know we represent something that goes against the grain. You’re ex-military and a police chief. You assume we take justice into our own hands. Not true. We have careful protocols in place. We never strike preemptively. You saw the brutality on Pont Neuf. You must admit, these people needed to be stopped. Bureaucratic warfare is ineffective against a borderless, multi-national guerrilla force.”

  “It takes one to fight one?”

  “Exactly right.”

  Evarts didn’t think that was all wrong, but neither did he think it was all right. He decided to leave that one be for the moment.

  “You claim to never strike preemptively, but earlier you said you took out cells in the planning stage.”

  “That’s not preemptive. They’re actively planning to murder innocent people. What I mean is that we leave Islamists alone. Many are innocent religious practitioners, and we don’t want to encourage radicalization. We hit cells only when they engage in terrorism or plan a terrorist act they are capable of carrying out. As far as we’re concerned, Muslims may worship any way they like. They can visit radical webpages. They can attend whatever mosques they choose. They can even contribute money to organizations that support terror. As long as they remain passive physically, we ignore them. This is far more generous than your FBI counter-terrorism tactics.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Evarts said. “How could you know when a cell is planning an attack if you don’t infiltrate them? You must have penetrated all kinds of Islamic organizations, neighborhoods, and mosques.”

  Lewis shrugged. “True, but we take no action until we have proof of intended violence. We have safeguards in place.”

  “Something doesn’t jibe. Before I returned to the hotel, I met with Army Intelligence, and—”

  “We know,” Lewis interrupted. “That’s why you’re in town.”

  “And they told me that our intelligence services estimate that the Templar Knights number only about a thousand. If they’re all your age and physical condition, it’s hard to imagine that you can gather sufficient global intelligence and field strike forces wherever needed.”

  Lewis chuckled. “Your intelligence services overestimate the number of Knights.”

  “You avoided my question,” Evarts said.

  “I’ll explain. The Templars of old were organized into three ranks: knights, sergeants, and chaplains. They also hired squires, tradesmen, and mercenaries who were not part of the order. We’re not so different today.” He laughed. “Except, as you may have guessed, knights are no longer the primary warriors.” He patted his stomach again. “That responsibility has been relegated to the sergeants. As for intelligence, it comes from three sources. We have a few of our own spies, infiltrate government departments, and use paid informants.”

  “In other words, you’re a bunch of old men who hire mercenaries.”

  “That would be an unkind way of putting it, but I guess we’ve decided to be straightforward.”

  “Since we’re being direct,” Evarts said, “what the hell do you want from me?”

  “That should be obvious. We want you to join us. Not today. Sometime in the future. After you’ve earned the privilege of an invitation. Today was an introduction to encourage you to pursue us.”

  “Pursue you? You mean seek a Master Mason degree?” Evarts asked.

  “Not necessarily. We want you to be a sergeant. That doesn’t require that you’re even a Mason.”

  “A sergeant? A combatant?” Evarts laughed. “I’ll pass.”

  “Today perhaps. But who knows what tomorrow will bring?”

  “Hopefully, not more clichés. By the way, your name’s not Jim Lewis, is it?”

  “Of cour
se not. We old men have a few tricks left.”

  “Your tricks and your double-secret little club doesn’t interest me. To use a cliché of my own, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I do have a final question, however. Why did you even try to recruit me? You must know it’s risky. I just met with Army Intelligence. They want to hunt you down and throw you in irons. If you had investigated me, you would’ve known I wouldn’t be interested. Your whole modus operandi goes against my nature.”

  “We have our reasons,” Lewis said. “Besides, the risks were mitigated.” He looked off into the distance. “We had your shadow shadowed. We may be in your neck of the woods, but we have more resources than you have covering this meet.” He smiled. “At dinner tonight, please convey our best wishes to General O’Brian.”

  They were almost to the hotel. A navy-blue Escalade suddenly pulled to the curb with brakes screeching. Evarts put his hand on his gun, but he didn’t pull it out because Lewis smiled as he gestured with his thumb like he was hitchhiking. The rear door opened, and Lewis put his foot inside. Just before climbing in, he turned back to Evarts.

  “In answer to your final question, we tried to recruit you because the terrorists you foiled on Pont Neuf have put a price on your head … and on your wife’s. A big price … with separate rewards for each of you. They’re going to kill you … both of you.”

  Lewis jumped the rest of the way in, the door slammed, and the Escalade was gone in an instant.

  Chapter 20

  Evarts arrived at the Oak Steakhouse in Alexandria an hour early. He needed a drink.

  As soon as Lewis had been whisked away, Evarts called his station and had two officers dispatched to UCSB to watch over his wife. Next, he called his wife. She immediately insisted that she didn’t want cops in or around her classes or office. She argued that campus police would be enough, and that if there was a price on her head, it might be months before someone tried to collect. He understood student and faculty animosity toward cops but reminded her that his rejects made up the bulk of campus police. It didn’t matter. She believed students would perceive town officers as threatening. He had blown up and the argument had turned ugly. He yelled that student protests had resulted in disarming the campus police and that this was a serious threat requiring serious protection, not disarmed amateur rent-a-cops. She wouldn’t give. He lost the fight and reassigned his officers to patrol the perimeter of the school.