the fact that the Italian explorer Giovanni da Verrazano mentioned the circular tower in his 1524 ship’s log, he would have dismissed the unusual structure as a Victorian folly. A wealthy man’s attempt at re-creating an idealized medieval edifice. “While there’s no conclusive evidence that the tower was built by the Templars, the design is highly suggestive. As you no doubt know, the circle beautifully illustrates the concept of infinity.”
“It’s most definitely a medieval-style structure, although”—Edie’s brow furrowed—“Lovett maintained that the Templars established their colony not on the coast but inland at Arcadia.”
“This was, more than likely, a watchtower to signal ships in the bay.”
“Which raises an interesting point. Did the Templars travel back and forth between the New World and the Old?”
“It’s quite possible that there was sea travel between Rhode Island and, say, Scotland. In the aftermath of the auto-da-fe, a contingent of Templars escaped to the Highlands, the Scots sympathetic to their cause. As Oscar Wilde once famously quipped, ‘Many people discovered America before Columbus, but most of them had the good sense to keep quiet about it.’”
“I’ll say it once, way cool. It certainly warrants a chapter in your next book.” Edie scanned the photos on the camera’s display screen. “Love to take some snaps at sunset.”
“Time doesn’t permit a lengthy excursion.” Caedmon glanced at his wristwatch. A few minutes shy of three, they had just enough time to drive to Jason Lovett’s cottage in Arcadia.
“Okay, scoutmaster, I’m ready to hit the road.” Playfully winking, she stuffed the digital camera into its case.
As they strolled back to the rental car parked at the curb, Caedmon slung a companionable arm around Edie’s shoulders. Unable to resist, he turned his head and took one last look at the stone tower that so convincingly mocked the history books.
“I suppose the great unknown at its most dangerous was a safer bet than the Inquisition on its best day,” Edie remarked, correctly deducing his thoughts. “And what better place for the Templars to hide themselves and their treasure trove than on an undiscovered continent that nobody in the early fourteenth century even knew existed.”
Key in hand, Caedmon unlocked the front passenger door on the rental car. “Until they were discovered by Verrazano and the Knights of Malta. By the sixteenth century, the Age of Exploration was in full swing, the kingdoms of the Old World all vying for territory in the New. Only a matter of time before someone discovered the Templars’ secret hideaway.”
“Doomed from the get-go.” Pulling aside her long woolen skirt, Edie eased into the sedan’s front seat.
A few moments later, dark clouds scudding across a lackluster gray sky, they drove away from what had to be the most unusual man-made structure in America. While not proof positive that the Knights Templar took refuge in the New World, it lent a certain credibility to Jason Lovett’s outrageous claim.
“Off to the land of Yawgoog,” Edie said cheerily. “Where, hopefully, we will find riches beyond compare.”
Uncertain what they would find at the dead archaeologist’s cottage, Caedmon made no reply. Only yesterday Jason Lovett’s dream ended in a bloody nightmare. They were treading a much safer path, the killer unaware that they left Washington. After the unexpected break-in, they’d packed their bags and spent the night in a downtown hotel.
Approaching the toll bridge that spanned between Newport and Conanicut Island, Caedmon gestured to the bay in the near distance. “This is the same sight that greeted the Templars when they first sailed into these waters.”
“Sans the oil tanker.” Edie twisted in her seat, softly grunting. The subcompact Toyota sedan afforded a modicum of comfort. “There’s something that’s been bothering me… According to the legends, Yawgoog had ‘innumerable’ children, but I thought the Templars were celibate.”
He maneuvered the Yaris behind a dinged and dented pickup truck hauling a plastic-covered mattress, the unwieldy object lightly bouncing in the cargo hold. “Once they were ex-communicated, the Templars were no longer bound by their vow of chastity.”
“Free to fornicate at will,” she retorted with a grin. The woman was no prude. “Although the only available females on Rhode Island were Narragansett.”
“The Templars may well have taken Indian wives. Or perhaps they warmed their beds with Scottish lasses.”
“The old
“Without female mates, their secret colony would have been short-lived to say the—” He glanced into the rearview mirror. An old habit ingrained from the years at MI5, an enemy’s most common avenue of approach would be from the rear. “Strap yourself into the seat belt.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
“Unless I’m greatly mistaken, we’re being shadowed.” For the last several minutes he’d been keeping an eye on the black Audi following in their wake, the vehicle keeping perfect pace. Not too close to be noticeable. Not so far as to lose sight of them.
Craning her neck, Edie peered out the back window.
“The black Audi with the tinted windows,” he said. “Turn back around. We don’t want the driver to know that we’re on to him.”
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking, that it’s Rico Suave behind the wheel?” Although she appeared outwardly calm, he detected a note of panic in her voice.
“We’re of like mind.” Pulling into the left lane, he accelerated past the pickup truck. He then passed four more vehicles, tucking in behind a mustard-yellow SUV. As expected, the Audi stayed put, the driver careful not to show his hand. On a heavily congested expansion bridge, he could follow at a distance, secure in the knowledge that they had nowhere to run.
“Once we get off this bridge, you do plan on losing him, don’t you?”
Suspecting that would be a tricky feat to manage on an unfamiliar roadway, he made no reply. Instead, keeping one hand on the wheel, he rummaged in his anorak pocket for two crumpled bills to pay the toll. Up ahead, a neat line of booths materialized on the horizon, two lanes of traffic suddenly branching into six. He veered away from the garish SUV, heading for the tollbooth on the far left.
Beside him, Edie groaned, having spotted the Audi in her side-view mirror.
“Guess who just broke away from the pack.”
“Remain calm.”
Slowing the Yaris to a crawl, he made his way to the tollbooth, coming to a complete stop once they were abreast of the uniformed attendant. He shoved his arm through the open window, handing two dollars to the overly plump female. About to put his foot back on the gas pedal, he instead leaned his head out the window.
“May I please have a receipt?”
“Are you crazy?” Edie hissed. “He’s right behind us!”
“As I am well aware.” Turning away from his agitated passenger, he directed his attention to the moonfaced attendant. “Thank you so much.”
Slowly, in no apparent hurry to leave the toll plaza, he drove away from the booth, remaining in the extreme left lane. Up ahead, the six lanes funneled back into two. Whereupon he had a choice: continue straight onto the high-speed expressway or take the far-right exit.
“Oh, I get it. You don’t want Rico to know that we know that he’s right behind us.”
He glanced into the rearview mirror, the driver of the Audi in the process of handing a bill to the attendant. “Let’s hope the bastard falls for the charade because”—he slammed his foot onto the accelerator, cutting in front of a boxy minivan, then a sporty red coupe, and finally the mattress-laden pickup—“we’re taking the next exit.”
The sudden burst of fuel catapulted the Yaris to forty miles per hour, tires squealing as he jerked the steering wheel to the right, barely managing to stay on the roadway as they veered onto the sharply curved exit ramp. According to the green sign that they’d just passed under, they were headed toward Jamestown, a seaside village on the southern end of the island. He sped through the stop sign at the end of the exit ramp.
Edie twisted in her seat to peer out the back window. “Punch it! Pedal to the metal! He’s right behind us!”
“Damn! The bastard has quick reflexes,” he muttered, remembering how the beautiful young man bested him
