The Templar's Code

the Emerald Tablet from the Willard Hotel. The device would indicate exactly when she stepped foot in the hotel lobby. He could then follow her, forcibly take custody of the relic — and pull the trigger.

Fear now trumped by rage, Edie shoved herself upright, strode across the room and snatched the container of kimchi off the desk. Opening it, she smashed the magnetic strip into the fiery cabbage concoction, her nostrils twitching from the sudden burst of cayenne pepper. She then headed over to the window; a benefit of being on the third floor, the window actually opened.

For nearly five minutes, she stood at the ready, container in hand. A white pickup truck stopped for a red light directly beneath the window. The rap music blaring from the truck’s sound system meant—

Taking aim, Edie tossed the food carton.

The driver didn’t hear the thump in the truck bed when the kimchi plopped all over ribbed cargo space.

Mission accomplished, she walked over and grabbed the discarded cell phone off the floor. She set it on the nightstand. Rage a clarifying antidote for fear, she began to devise a plan of action.

Not having a weapon was most definitely a handicap.

No! That wasn’t true. Granted her weapon didn’t come with round-nosed bullets, but it was deadly.

Edie mirthlessly smiled.

The devil may have demanded a dance, but she would pick the tune.

CHAPTER 87

The hammer came down on Caedmon’s left hand with such violent force, he screamed in agony. The pain unbearable, he retched all over the table. One did not have to be a trained physician to know that more than a few carpal bones had been broken.

Trapped between the conscious and unconscious worlds, he sagged against his chair, his chin dropping onto his vomit-splattered chest. An instant later, he slipped into the latter world.

How many minutes passed, he had no idea, blissfully unaware of the passage of time.

* * *

Consciousness returned piecemeal, bogged down with an excruciating pain centered in his mutilated left hand.

Focus on something other than the pain, he silently ordered.

An impossible command, the very act of pulling air into his lungs an agonizing labor.

Not entirely certain of his whereabouts, Caedmon glanced around the windowless room. As if on cue, the steel door on the far side of the room swung on a rusty hinge.

A stylishly attired man with a battered face entered the room. “My stoic Englishman has finally opened his beautiful blue eyes. I trust that you’re enjoying yourself.” Smiling, he fixed his gaze on Caedmon’s bloodied and mangled hand.

As though a bucket of ice water had just been tossed on his head, Caedmon instantly revived.

“A jolly good time was had by all,” he snarled, glaring at the sadistic bastard. Hatred the only weapon in his arsenal.

“And to think the night is still young.”

Caedmon inwardly groaned. Mystics, the chronically obsessed, and serial killers all shared a common trait — insomnia, the ability to function on little more than a cat nap.

Saviour Panos seated himself at the table. “We have much in common, you and I.”

“We breathe the same air — that’s all that we have in common.”

“A cunning man, even now, face bashed, hand broken, you are trying to figure out a way to disarm—” He broke off in midstream and glanced at the mobile clipped to his waist, the device emitting a muffled whhrrr. “Ah! Your lady love has finally returned my earlier call. I took the liberty of photographing you while you slept. A little memento to ensure her cooperation.”

Smirking, Panos took the call. “Perfect timing! My sleeping beauty has just aroused.”

Caedmon felt the sting of tears. Edie was no match for a monster like Saviour Panos. Why in God’s name didn’t you go to the airport? Although he hadn’t done the tossing, he knew that Edie had been thrown to the wolves. His fault.

Forgive me, love.

A few seconds into the call, Panos’s mocking expression morphed into one of thunderous rage.

Jabbing his finger against the mobile, he disconnected the call. “That bitch!”

Hearing the rage in the other man’s voice, Caedmon suffered a bum-clenching burst of panic.

Damn it, love. What in God’s name have you done?

CHAPTER 88

The dark night of the soul.

What was that from? She couldn’t remember, literary quotations Caedmon’s specialty. Didn’t matter. Probably popped into her head because the exchange with Saviour Panos would soon take place, Edie waiting in a Cimmerian chamber. A woe-is-me kind of place to be sure.

She’d devised a simple plan for the exchange — use the Emerald Tablet like a Trojan horse to entice the enemy into dropping his guard. Why overpower when you can outwit? Better to slay the dragon without breaking a sweat or raising a battleax. Kill or be killed. What else could she do? You can’t negotiate with a monster. Besides, the alternative was unthinkable. Caedmon, his head awkwardly slumped, face swollen, hand mangled. She’d make penance once her beloved was safe.

Then there was the bigger picture: If Rico Suave got a hold of the Emerald Tablet, she feared he would sell it to the highest bidder. A ruthless despot. A maniacal madman. And if Rico actually had the encryption key to unlock the Genesis code, the despot or madman could create a catastrophic burst of energy.

“ ‘Abandon all hope ye who enter here,’ ” she muttered. In Atlantis, they didn’t even live to tell the tale.

Benjamin Franklin had been right: Leave creation to the Almighty. Mortal man was ill equipped to handle such heady power.

Closing her eyes, she breathed deeply and visualized yet again how the exchange would unfold. To prevent a deadly mishap, her mind had to be free. Clear. Totally focused. Be deceptive. Be decisive. Be all you can be. I am woman, hear me roar.

Edie derisively snorted. Who the hell was she kidding? She was petrified. Her heart was pounding in her throat, the sound echoing in her ears. Non sequiturs and anatomically impossible. But oh so true. One misstep and her well-laid plan would go the way of the mouse. The enemy had beauty, brains, and, lest she forget, bullets. But — and she had to keep reminding herself of this — she had the element of surprise. And a secret weapon. A cannon to his revolver.

Her cheap Timex emitted a tinny beep-beep. Edie pushed the metal nubbin to turn off the alarm. The show was scheduled to start in ten minutes. We’ll make the exchange at three. Do not be late. And if you lay another hand on Caedmon, I will tie a cinder block to the Emerald Tablet and toss it in the Potomac.

Unable to see in the inky darkness, she gingerly moved her right hand. Butting up against the camping lantern, she switched it on. The fluorescent bulb cast a surreal white light on the Templars’ subterranean sanctuary. Yawgoog’s Cave. The eight stern-faced knights carved onto the chamber walls had creeped her out, the reason why the lantern had been turned off.

Scrambling to her feet, Edie took one last look at the Emerald Tablet she’d earlier placed in the niche behind