Bhutan—June
Ashi led Ty to a nearby room. Vincent was sitting cross-legged, holding a bowl of rice and chilies.
“Dad, you’re okay!”
“Yeah. I don’t remember much but I thought I was a goner.”
“You really were a goner. I remember…” Ty looked at Ashi. His mind struggled to make sense of what he had seen. His father truly died…or did he? “I remember,” he began again, “but I think I dreamed up what happened. Where are the others?” Ty asked. “Did everyone make it?”
Vincent put his bowl down on the polished wooden floor and rubbed his forehead. “No…not everyone made it,” he said flatly. “I have a tough phone call to make to the family when we get anywhere near a phone.”
They sat in silence. Ty looked at the floor and remembered the devastating scene of attack. He knew he hadn’t dreamed it and remembered exactly who didn’t make it.
“Your friend—I am sad that you are sad,” Ashi said, touching Ty’s sleeve.
“Thank you. The others?”
“They’re here exploring the temple,” Vincent said. His brow creased.
Watching his father struggle with his emotions resonated with Ty and he squeezed back his tears. It was going to be difficult to return without a member of the team.
****
Vincent walked past the bevy of reporters muttering, “Well, the word is out that we’re here,” and headed toward the elevators. The team entered the living room in Ty and Vincent’s suite. Ty, Oliver, Cheryl and Therese slumped into chairs and onto the sofa dejectedly. Preston and Vincent busied themselves setting up and logging onto Vincent’s laptop.
“Well, that was a waste,” Cheryl commented.
“At least we got to see the holy land,” Therese added.
“Why do you think they're tunneling under the Temple Mount anyway? Khaled never told us,” Ty asked nobody in particular.
“It’s political,” Preston said dismissively, not even looking at Ty.
Vincent continued, “I’m sure you know how delicate the situation is, Ty. The Temple Mount is where Herod’s temple stood, built over the ruins of Solomon’s ancient temple. But now the Dome of the Rock and Al Aqsa Mosque are built on the Temple Mount over those ruins.”
“Yes, of course, I know it’s one of the holiest sites for Muslims,” Ty said.
“You know there were labyrinths of tunnels below the temple. Don’t think little tunnels. There’s a vast area under there...think caverns. I'm assuming the scroll was discovered near where the knights excavated so many years ago. That means Khaled’s partner was digging directly below some Muslim holy sites.”
Nobody had to state the obvious, that relations between different groups in Jerusalem were very precarious. If the Muslims discovered that there were unauthorized excavations going on beneath their holy site it could spark a brand-new clash.
“What are you doing there with the laptop anyway, Vinny?” Oliver asked.
Vincent looked at him sharply.
“Um…sorry, Professor Vinny.”
Vincent rolled his eyes, unable to maintain anger with Oliver.
“You know, I have a very vague memory of hearing the phrase, Land of the Thunder Dragon, before. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking but I could have sworn I read something, maybe about five years ago. I think the phrase was used in connection with some Templar artifacts.”
“What time is it at home?” Therese asked.
“It’s one o’clock here. It’s seven at night at home,” Ty answered.
Oliver grinned. “Smarty pants.”
Ty shrugged with a smile.
“Richard wouldn’t care if we woke him up in the middle of the night,” Vincent commented without turning around. He stared at his cell phone.
“I have a couple of messages,” Vincent said, standing. “Probably just reporters.” His words were casual but his voice had an edge to it.
“Everything okay?” Ty asked.
“Yes, fine. I just need to listen to these. There are people who are waiting to hear what’s going on here,” Vincent said vaguely. He hesitated. “It makes me wonder…I’d really like to know if our group is actually being followed.”
“Simple enough to find out. Go outside and walk down the street. See if anyone follows you,” Cheryl said.
“It would be easy enough,” Vincent replied. “Except how would you know if it’s a reporter or not? Ty is the only one who really got a good look at them.”
“Well I should go then,” Ty said.
Vincent contemplated his son for a minute. “You and Oliver. Take a walk down the street. Don’t be obvious. When you turn the corner, sneak a look back. Call me if you see anything.”
“Okay.” Ty jumped up. He was relieved to be leaving the hotel suite.
“Good to get out, right?” he said to Oliver in the elevator.
“It was kind of serious in there. Now, DON’T BE OBVIOUS, TY,” he said, imitating Vincent.
****
A few minutes later they were serious again.
“Damn, you were not kidding, kid,” Oliver said, his back to the hotel’s stone wall, glancing around the corner every so often.
“Let’s keep walking,” Ty suggested. “See if they keep coming.”
“Okay, no side streets though.”
Ty pulled out his phone and informed Vincent of their situation. “We’re going to keep going for a while.”
“I’m hungry,” Oliver said softly. “Ask him if we should bring any food back.”
Vincent’s laughter through the cell phone was loud enough for people on the sidewalk to hear. “It’s never dire enough to forget about food. Yeah, we’re hungry up here and I’d like some Israeli fast food.”
No matter what pace they walked, the dark blue car never got too close. Then, it disappeared.
“They’re gone,” Ty said.
“I don’t believe it. I’m going to stop in here and get shwarma and French fries. You keep your eyes open for them,” Oliver said, stopping in front of a take out restaurant.
“Okay,” Ty agreed.
There were plenty of pedestrians and Ty swiveled his head back and forth, looking for the blue car. In one sweeping motion, in an act that took less than a second, a powerful arm wrapped around Ty’s torso, pulling him up off his feet, backward into an alley. The assailant set him on his feet and then pushed his face forward into the dark, ancient brick, lining the passageway. The arm transformed into an iron bar that reached across Ty’s neck.
“What papa do here? What papa find?” Hot breath poured into Ty’s ear.
Ty could not have answered if he wanted to. The arm was twisting his head and cutting off his air. Ty sweated and shook and clawed at the arm that was choking him. He knew what this was—the sleeper hold. In a few seconds he would lose consciousness. In a few seconds he’d be dead.
“Tell me, my little chicken.”
Ty was defenseless against this raw power and brutality. He thought of Jenna and he thought how devastated his father would be at his death. He noticed his attempts to dislodge the arm were becoming feeble. There were dark patches in his field of vision.
No, God, no! I don’t want to die!
“Stop you idiot,” a voice hissed from a few feet away. “What would Patron do to us if you killed him?”
“But just a few more seconds…” Ty felt his head twist a fraction of an inch more, every tendon straining.
“À Dieu ne plaise! I know you want to, but we are here only to get information, not to kill.”
As Ty felt himself blacking out, he heard shouts. “Hey, hey, what’s going on here?”
There was a second when the grip tightened more and then the assailant shoved him forward violently. Ty fell against the brick wall, scraping his forehead and landing hard on his knees. He heard the sound of heavy footsteps running through the passageway to the street on the other side. Arms helped him up as he gagged and gasped for air. Oliver stood silhouetted in the bright sunshine in the entrance of the alley, holding bags of food.
“I’m okay. I’m okay,” Ty insisted, as the men who helped him brushed him off and asked how he was.
Ty and Oliver left the scene before the police arrived and all the way back to the hotel Ty begged Oliver not to tell his father.
“He’d freak. He’d never let me come on any more trips and he’d never let me out of his sight again.”
Oliver reluctantly agreed.
“I didn’t get a look at their faces, only their backs as they ran away. They were huge!” Oliver said.
“I didn’t see them either,” Ty said, limping and rubbing his neck, “but the accent—it sounded European, almost French.”
“French! They’ve come a long way for information.”
When they got to the suite, Vincent and Preston were still huddled over the computer. Therese was sitting on the balcony and Cheryl was sleeping on the couch, her head tipped back and her mouth hanging open. When they dropped the bags of food on the table, she startled awake. Therese noticed them, slid the door open and stepped inside.
Ty, still shaking, slipped away into the bathroom without anyone noticing. He washed his face and pulled his hair over the scrape on his forehead. His face was red and his hands were trembling but he pulled himself together and walked out, trying to act casual.
“Nothing?” Ty asked.
Vincent shook his head.
“I’m going to have to make a phone call soon and let some people know.”
“Some people, your people. Who are dese people?” Oliver said, putting on a Brooklyn accent.
Vincent smiled. “Don’t laugh. They are powerful people.” He sighed. “Land of the Thunder Dragon. I wish I could remember.”
He did not volunteer any more information and there was silence as they wondered who the powerful people were.
“Why don’t you just Google it?” Ty asked his father.
Vincent shook his head. “Not secure.”
“Why don't you have Richard Google it?” Ty asked.
Vincent gazed at Ty for a minute then pulled out his phone. Within a few minutes, Richard texted him back. Vincent stared at the screen while Preston looked over his shoulder.
“This can’t be right,” Preston said.
“It is,” Vincent said in a barely audible voice. “This is what I remember.”
Cheryl jumped up and looked over their shoulders. “Bhutan!”
“Where the hell is Bhutan?” Oliver asked.
“Bhutan is a tiny country near China and Tibet,” Ty said. He looked at Oliver and said, “And don’t call me smarty pants again.”
“Why would a Templar be in Bhutan?” Vincent mused.
“It’s a very mountainous and inaccessible country. It has the reputation as being the most remote country in the world,” Vincent read from his phone.
“Maybe a knight would think it was a good place to hide if they were arresting Knights Templar all over Europe.”
“I don’t know,” Preston said doubtfully. “It’s quite unconventional.”
“It’s downright weird,” Oliver added.
“Besides, just knowing where the Land of the Thunder Dragon is does not link it to the Knights Templar,” Cheryl said.
“Except I remember the article now,” Vincent said. “An archaeologist from the UK published how he discovered a Templar sword and other Templar artifacts in Bhutan. I dismissed it in my mind.”
“Why?” Preston asked.
“First, it sounded way too farfetched. Second, they published a picture of the sword. There was some sort of decoration on the hilt. Templars did not condone any kind of ornamentation.”
“Hmm. Well, what do you think of this fragment. Real? Fake?” Preston asked.
“Oh, I think it’s real. I think the scroll is real and I think this Philippe went to Bhutan, but for what reason, I don’t know. I’m going to locate that archaeologist and find out where in Bhutan he discovered the artifacts.”
****
Later that evening Ty lay in bed, unable to sleep, thinking over and over again about the details of the attack and about how close to death he had come. He heard his father make a phone call, murmuring softly so Ty had trouble making out what he was saying. But, he caught bits of the conversation every so often. Vincent was explaining the scroll translation and the idea that a Templar fled arrest to the far-off country of Bhutan.
Ty wondered why his father would need to explain to anyone. He definitely did not need financial backing. Sales from The Treasure of the Knights Templar would more than finance any archaeological expeditions or investigations. Maybe these “people” were not backers but partners in Vincent’s search. Ty couldn’t think of a reason Vincent would collaborate with anyone unless they had information that Vincent needed.
Ty knew that even though his father acted cool and relaxed, he was nearly obsessed with the treasure. If he thought someone had some information that would lead to it, he would definitely make all sorts of bargains. Ty wondered briefly if Vincent would bargain away his son for the treasure and laughed to himself. He spent the next few hours tossing and turning and remembered seeing the sky get lighter before he finally fell asleep.
****
The team met in Ty and Vincent’s suite the next morning. Vincent announced that back home, Richard and Rishi located the article that Vincent remembered. They faxed it over before the team had gotten together. Vincent passed around a copy of it.
Preston leaned back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other.
“Impressive, Vincent. Very impressive. This article was published eight years ago in an obscure archaeology journal.”
“Yeah, it's incredible that you remembered it,” Oliver added.
Vincent smiled and raised his eyebrows with a self-congratulatory look. “I do have a phenomenal memory.”
Therese scanned the article in silence.
Only Ty knew just how fixated Vincent was on the Templars; he read absolutely everything that was even remotely connected to them.
Vincent paced in front of the group. “The professor who published the article teaches at Bournemouth University.”
“Where’s that?” Cheryl asked.
“On the south shore of England. Their School of Conservation Sciences has an archaeology division. I’m just waiting until the school opens to call the author, Trent Mansfield.”
“And that will be what time?” Preston asked.
“It’ll be 9:00 A.M. their time when it is 11:00 here,” Ty said.
Oliver laughed and rolled his eyes. “You’re a little freaky with that time difference thing.”
Vincent glanced at his watch. “A little after eleven.”
There was total silence as all anxious faces turned toward Vincent. He pushed the speakerphone button and called the University. The team waited as the various connections from the main switchboard were made to the archaeology department.
“I’d like to speak to Professor Mansfield. Is he in today?” Vincent asked.
There was a moment of stillness and Ty wondered if they had lost the connection.
“I am sorry,” a man with a clipped, British accent said. “Are you a friend or family member?”
“No, this is Vincent Scalisi. I am also an archaeology professor and I’d like to speak to him regarding some professional collaboration.”
“Oh, I see.” The voice hesitated again. “I must inform you that Professor Mansfield passed on some time ago.”
“Really? I am sorry. I had no idea. Thank you and sorry to have bothered you.”
Vincent’s hand hovered over the speakerphone button, ready to cut off the conversation after he said goodbye. He hesitated. “By the way, I was just wondering, was Professor Mansfield an older man?”
“No, he was quite young. He died in an accident.”
“Hmm. And when was that exactly?”
“Let me see…it was eight years ago. A hit and run.”
“Oh, thank you again.” Again Vincent hesitated. “Um, Professor Mansfield wrote an article a while back with pictures of Templar artifacts. Would you happen to know what became of those artifacts?”
“Yes, I know we have them catalogued in storage here. I am an assistant professor but I wasn’t on board yet when Trent Mansfield was teaching here. Still, I know of his work. I studied his findings.”
“Sorry. What did you say your name was?”
“Timothy Neville.”
“I am in Israel right now but I’d like to know if I would be able to examine the artifacts if I came to Bournemouth? I had some questions about the hilt of the sword he found.”
“Yes, one of the other professors told me Mansfield felt the sword was irregular and had some reservations about publishing his findings. Yes, if you came I’d be happy to show them to you.”
Vincent smiled broadly at the group and gave them the thumbs up. He worked out the details of their meeting and hung up.
“You guys take the plane back to the U.S. Ty and I will hop over to England for a day and take some pictures of the items at Bournemouth. Hopefully we can discover exactly where in Bhutan the artifacts were found.”
****
The next day Ty was relieved to leave Israel, putting distance between himself and his attackers. Vincent rented a car at Heathrow Airport and headed out of London. As Vincent careened through the city, struggling to keep the car on the left side of the road, he said, “I was reading something interesting on the plane.”
“Yeah?” Ty gripped the dashboard as the car turned left into oncoming traffic. “Whoa, Dad,” he said in a panicked voice.
Vincent swerved and grinned. “It’s kind of hard to remember to drive on the opposite side.” He slammed on his brakes and screeched to a halt at a red light.
The temperature was only in the 60s but Ty could feel himself sweating. “How far is this university, anyway?”
“An hour and a half, plenty of time for me to discuss this with you. It has to do with the Rex Deus.”
Plenty of time for you to have a car accident and kill us both, Ty thought. Still, he was flattered that his father valued his opinion.
The light turned green and Vincent floored the gas pedal, heading out of London for the southern coast of England.
“The Rex Deus...don't you wish there was some way to identify which family is part of them, Dad?”
Vincent grinned widely. “Well, you can kind of tell who they were because they constantly intermarried. They say the Stuarts, the Hapsburgs, William the Conqueror...”
“Royal families in England? And the Hapsburgs, the royals in Austria?”
“Yes, supposedly they were Rex Deus. But, and here's where it gets interesting, there is something going on called the Cohen project. Aaron was Moses's brother, the first Cohen.”
“What's that mean, the first Cohen?”
“Whenever there is a Jewish person with the name Cohen, Kogan, something similar, some variation of Cohen, that means they were descended from Aaron HaCohen, Moses's brother. Aaron and Moses were from the tribe of Levi, the priest tribe and Aaron was anointed the first High Priest.
Cohens are supposedly direct descendents of Aaron. So now there's a research project going on to determine which DNA identifies a person as a Cohen. They've taken many Cohens, they call them Kohanim, from all over the world and are trying to determine which DNA segment...”
“So wait a minute. If there is a DNA segment that can identify a person as a priest, then...”
“Exactly. If a person from one of these prominent families has that gene, then it will identify him as Rex Deus.”
“Wow!” Ty was speechless for a moment. “Any results yet?”
“You can't just go around and poke people to get blood samples from them.”
Ty laughed. “No, that's for sure.”
“But they've found that 46% of Kohanim carry chromosomes that point to a single ancestor.”
Vincent careened into a parking spot, screeching to a halt. “We're here.”
Vincent slammed the car door and approached a student for directions to the School of Conservation Sciences and the Archaeology Department. He headed off in that direction with Ty trailing, trying to keep up with his father's fast pace.