Wings of Steele- The Series, page 135
part #1 of Wings of Steele Series
He shot Mercedes a glance, “That's how the 13th got its bad rap. Anyway, King Philip pressured Pope Clement to work with him to declare the Templars heretics so all their properties and assets could be seized internationally, which the Pope finally did a month later.”
Mercedes Huang was listening carefully, her hands tucked in her pockets, leaning against the table. “Weren't these the Knights with the red cross on their uniforms that fought in the Crusade against the Muslims?”
“Yep. The red cross that the Templars wore on their robes was a symbol of martyrdom, and religious piety. They were essentially warrior monks. I've seen several references to them being called the soldiers of Christ or the warriors of Christ. What most people don't realize is that the Templars fought the Crusades as a response to more than a hundred years of attacks by the Muslims. It wasn't initiated by the church; it was an effort to stop the attrition brought on by the Muslim aggressions. Because the Templars had the experience and resources, they were called upon to do battle, along with other religious orders like the Knights Hospitaller and the Knights of St. John. Their uncompromising principles, along with their reputation for courage, excellent training, and heavy armament, made the Templars the most feared combat force in medieval times...”
“OK,” waved Mercedes, “this is all fascinating enough, but how does that relate to the here and now?”
Doug handed his coffee mug off to another agent quietly listening, “Would you mind?” The agent gave a silent shrug and headed for the coffee pot sitting on the warmer. “Alright,” continued Doug, “Friday the 13th, the King and the Pope conspired to wipe out as thoroughly as they could, the Templars and all their holdings, yes?”
“OK...”
“So,” he said, accepting a refilled coffee mug, “the Templars were famous for something else; their use of pigeons for communications and their secret codes. As soon as the arrests began, messages were sent out by courier pigeons. And hundreds if not thousands of the Templars simply disappeared. Some went to other orders, some blended back into normal life, a large number regrouped under the name, Knights of Christ. They had an exit plan. The King confiscated all the properties and some of their monetary assets... but much of the wealth disappeared with them...” He waved his hand, “Poof. Gone. They ended up in Spain, Portugal, Mexico, America, England, Ireland and scattered throughout Europe. The ones captured were imprisoned, tortured, killed, some burned alive at the stake...”
“Jesus,” she breathed.
“Yeah,” nodded Doug, “but the rest survived, lived on, and continued the legacy of some of the most influential people on the planet... In 1492, a hundred-eighty-five years later, Columbus sailed to America. You noticed I didn't say discovered, because he didn't really, the Templars had already been here. In fact they provided him with charts and information on the winds and currents. If you've ever seen drawings of his ships, the sails carried the cross of the Knights Templars...”
“Columbus was a Templar?”
“Yep. A member of the Knights of Christ.”
“Wow... But I still don't get how that applies...”
Doug slapped his forehead, “Don't you get it? They may be civilians, and they certainly don't carry swords and armor anymore, but the dedication is the same now as it was back then. The oath they swear, the secret ways they communicate, their influence and power... If you go stomping into a lodge and ask questions, start hauling them in for questioning... it will be a replay of Friday the 13th all over again. I think we've already seen that with Dan Murphy and Chase Holt. Unfortunately, 20/20 hindsight; we weren't initially aware of the connection.”
“What do we do then?”
“Careful observation, tapping, listening... they'll resurface.”
“How can you be so sure?”
Doug cracked a crooked little smirk, “Because they still have family...” He waved his finger in the air, “As a final side note; one of the Knights Templar burned at the stake, Jacques de Molay, called out from the fire that a great calamity would befall those who had condemned the Templars to death... Pope Clement mysteriously died a month later and King Philip died in a hunting accident before the end of the year.”
“Fuck, that's creepy.”
Doug shook his head, “Gotta respect someone with that kind of mojo,” he sipped his coffee. “So I don't intend to underestimate this organization or their members.”
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH: DOUGWAY - THE RABBIT HOLE
After exiting I-15 toward Salt Lake, State Road 6 was a bit of a shock, a two lane road winding west through the desert and between the mountains. Eureka popped up out of nowhere, a little mining town with two gas stations. One of those places you'd miss if you blinked too long. After the necessary pit stop they continued on, facing the brutal glare of the afternoon sun.
Utah State Route 36, ran west before it swung north and they almost missed the turnoff because it looked smaller and more worn than the road they had just been on. The narrow two lane road ran through desolate desert with little traffic, save a tumbleweed crossing every now and again. The setting sun on their left was a reprieve from directly facing the intense, unrelenting ball of fire now dropping though a cloudless sky towards the distant peaks. Only an occasional sod farm broke up the flat, lifeless stretches of nothing, their giant green circles the only color in a brown and gray world. It reminded him of another place... a place far away, where war never seemed to end.
Chase Holt lifted his foot off the accelerator, letting the truck slow down on its own, staring out at the desert on the right of the road. He angled gently and the truck rumbled across the rough scrub on the unpaved shoulder paralleling a short barbed wire fence in serious disrepair. Karen was watching him but trying to see what he was looking at out the window at the same time. “What are you looking at?” she squinted, scanning the terrain.
“Bunkers... I think.” Looking around suspiciously, he climbed out of the cab and into the truck's bed for a better view, standing on his toes. “Yep, bunkers. Rows and rows of them...”
She stuck her head out the window, “How the hell did you even see that?”
“Practice. Certain things in the desert look natural, some don't. These don't, though I suspect they're more worried about them being seen from the air than the ground.”
“Whose are they?”
“No idea. Army probably. They look abandoned though. I don't see any vehicles or security...” He jumped down to the ground and climbed back into the cab, putting the truck back in gear and angling back onto the empty road.
“What are they used for?”
Chase checked his rear view mirror, “Trucks, tanks, fuel, weapons, ordnance... anything they want to protect from bombs or missiles.” He pointed to the right, “There's the road going in. I don't see a gate or anything... interesting.”
■ ■ ■
Passing the Tooele Army Depot on the outskirts of town as the sun slid behind the mountain ridges, Chase wondered if what they'd previously seen was truly deserted, or more likely remotely monitored. The second question would be what is the response time for an encroachment? That was probably going to run around in his mind for a while.
Thankfully, Tooele was a decent sized town with enough amenities to provide them with a decent, clean motel room and the first real dinner they'd had in days. It was a bit of normalcy that seemed to be rare in the maelstrom of crazy that had become their lives.
Coming back to the room from the restaurant, Chase stalled Karen with a wave, swiping his windbreaker aside, silently drawing his Glock. “Door's open,” he whispered, holding it at low ready. He looked up and back down the corridor, checking his surroundings.
“I watched you pull it closed,” she whispered back.
He nodded, pushing the door open with his foot, greeted by Allie, wagging her tail. “Hi girl,” he breathed, “did we have a visitor?” The German Shepherd danced around, glad to see her human, kicking something black under the desk. Quickly scanning the room, Chase holstered his Glock and stooped down to pick up the MagnaCard.
Karen closed and locked the door behind them, “What is it?”
“An electronic master key card. This thing'll open any door in any hotel. I'm guessing they didn't count on Ellie being here. She must have scared them off...”
“Are we talking hotel staff?”
“No, they'd use one of their own cards. This card plugs into a decoder device the size of a cell phone. It probably popped off the cable while he was trying to get out. This is spy stuff...”
“Not a burglar, huh?”
Chase tossed it on the nightstand, “Nah, too high tech for this neck of the woods...” He wedged a chair under the door handle. “This is a military town. We're not military and we're not from around here. Maybe it was a security sweep.” He turned out the lights and peeked out the window at the truck. Everything appeared normal.
“Are you trying to make me feel better, or is that really what you think?”
He scanned the cars in the lot, all of them empty. “Uh-huh...”
“Nice ambiguous answer,” she remarked sarcastically, plopping onto the bed.
“It's the only one you're getting,” replied Chase, pulling the curtains shut. “You can go ahead and give Allie her food...”
■ ■ ■
A few hundred feet from Utah State Route 36, Chase pulled the pickup off the road onto the rough scrub along Utah State Route 199, the desert running right to the edge of the pavement. The morning sun peeked over the ridge behind them, scattered clouds creating a colorful play of light. They were trading one desolate two-lane road for another, with one difference; this one pointed them toward the mountains. “There's the start of the barbed wire fence...” Chase put the truck in park.
“Are you sure this is right?” asked Karen, swiveling around and scanning in all directions. “There's nothing here...” She pointed up the road, “I take that back, there's a tumbleweed crossing the road.”
“It's exactly where Dan's instructions said... he said to wait here.” Allie stuck her head between the seats and nudged Chase's arm.
“What are we waiting for...?”
Chase glanced over his shoulder when he caught the flash of blue and red light out of the corner of his eye, his stomach taking a rolling leap before balling up into a knot. “Ooh crap...”
Karen's eyes flicked out her window to the mirror on the door, “Oh God, what do we do?”
Chase swallowed hard. “Nothing, stay calm... Don't say anything unless he asks you a question. We're tourists...” He watched the Sheriff exit the cruiser and adjust his gear before reaching through the open window and pulling his cowboy hat off the dash, placing it on his head and adjusting it with a tug on the front of the brim. Chase caught that he was wearing cowboy boots and wondered if that was standard uniform out here.
“Mornin' folks,” he said leaning close, eying Allie. “Does he bite?”
“She,” corrected Chase. “And no,” he lied. “Did we do something wrong, officer?” The Shepherd watched the officer over her human's shoulder with interest.
“Not that I know of...” replied the Sheriff, lifting the brim of his hat with his index finger, looking in around the cab of the truck. “Mind if I see your license and registration?”
“Sure,” nodded Chase, fishing things out of his wallet and center console. Along with what was requested, he included his concealed weapons permit and instructor ID.
The Sheriff glanced at it briefly, handing it all back except the driver's license, “Don't need those. Where's your gear?”
“Back seat in our backpacks,” replied Chase without moving.
The officer straightened up with a curt nod, “Let's leave them back there for now, shall we?” With a polite smile he headed back for his cruiser.
“Was it me or was that a bit odd?” whispered Karen.
Staring in the rear view mirror, Chase was watching the officer in his cruiser, the door standing open, “Yeah, little bit.” A Jeep without top or doors drove past in the opposite direction, giving the scene only a casual glance.
“Here comes our boy...”
The officer strode up to the truck and leaned, handing Chase his license back, a piece of paper wrapped around it. “Y'all have a nice day,” he smiled, tipping his hat before heading back to his cruiser.
Chase checked his mirror and shot Karen a quick glance, “What the hell...?” Unwrapping the paper he realized it was a note; Brother: follow me but not too close. Turn right when I go Code 3, follow it to the end. He looked up as the cruiser pulled back onto the pavement, passing them, heading west on 199 without so much as a glance in their direction from the officer.
“I don't get it,” said Karen picking up the note as Chase put the truck in gear and pulled back onto the road.
“Dashcam video...”
“Like on the cop shows...”
“Yep. Most cops have dashcam video and mics on their uniforms. He probably couldn't say anything, he wanted it to look like a routine traffic stop.”
“What's this, Code 3?” she pointed at the note.
“Lights and siren.”
Karen sighed, “You'd think there would be an easier way to do all this...”
■ ■ ■
Ten miles later after winding through climbing narrow canyons and passes cut through the foot of the mountains, the Sheriff's cruiser pulled off into the dirt, his lights coming on, his siren wailing as he spun his cruiser in a semi circle using a controlled slide. He appeared out of a swirling cloud of dust, racing past them on the road in the opposite direction, his engine roaring.
Karen's head whipped around as she watched him scream past, “Holy shit he's flying... do you think he got a call and had to leave...?”
Chase steered the truck off the pavement in the same place the cruiser went off the road, a rutted sand and dirt trail angling up and away into an unseen canyon. “Nope, that's what Code 3 looks like. It's part of the show,” he pointed, “see there's our road...”
“That's not a road,” she argued. “That doesn't even qualify as a driveway. It looks like a wagon trail...”
The canyon walls rose up on either side blocking out the early morning sun, the narrow track winding its way left and right, up and down. “This is kinda creepy... are you sure we won't get stuck in here?”
Chase's mouth cocked crookedly, not so sure himself, “Four wheel drive, I hope not.” He caught a glimpse of the trail around a bend, climbing up the side of the mountain. “Oh hell no... this thing ain't going up that...”
Opening up into a small, cozy valley, a motor home, tents and dirt bikes populated the area, hidden under a sizable camouflage net, the trail reaching up beyond the camp. A young woman with long black hair braided past her waist, and golden skin waved them to a spot to park. An animal that looked like a mix of coyote and wolf appeared from one of the tents sidling up beside her.
“I have my dog,” called Chase, “Is your... is he animal friendly?”
“Yes,” replied the woman, approaching, “she's wonderful with other animals.” The woman extended her hand as Chase slid out of the truck, Allie climbing over the seat, eager to get out. “Hello, you must be Chase. I am; Two Dogs Fucking.” She shook his hand.
“Excuse me?”
“She grinned at her own humor. “Bad Indian joke...” she mused.
“You're Indian, then,” he replied, still off balance.
“You couldn't tell?” she smiled, her white teeth a contrast to her golden skin, a wide, colorful, beaded choker around her neck. “Shoshone...”
Karen made it around the front of the truck, extending her hand, “Karen...”
“Dancing Rain.”
“Oh, that's beautiful...”
“Thanks, just call me Rain,” she said with a casual wave. “Dan and Jesse took a couple of the dirt bikes to the top before dawn, they should be back for breakfast soon, you folks hungry?”
■ ■ ■
Dan Murphy, tanned and bearded, pushed away from the table under the shade of the camouflage net, his plate empty. “That was good, sweetie... it really hit the spot,” he remarked, rubbing his stomach. Rain kissed the top of his head as she moved past, picking up empty plates and silverware. Dan stroked his beard, “Man, that's quite an adventure you've had, I'm glad you made it... Again, I'm really sorry to hear about Pam. I only remember meeting her the once but she seemed like a sweet girl.”
“Thanks,” nodded Karen.
Chase leaned forward, his elbows on the table, hands clasped. “So Dan, why are we here? What's going on?”
Dan leaned back, his hands laced behind his head in a long stretch. “Brother Chase...” he paused and eyed Karen.
Chase didn't so much as shift his eyes, “Karen, honey, would you mind helping Rain? Give us a few minutes?”
“Nothing doing,” she snapped. “I'm in this up to my eyeballs just like you. My life is on the line just like yours. I have a right to know what the hell is going on...”
“OK,” nodded Dan, leaning back in, “fair enough.” He accepted an open laptop handed him by Rain, setting it on the table. He shot Chase a glance, “She is bound by your oath, she is your responsibility, understand?”
“Understood,” agreed Chase.
“Good.” Dan brought the laptop out of sleep mode, “Ever heard of Project Zenith?”
“No...”
“How about Project Ascension?”
“No...”
Dan spun the laptop around so they could see the screen. “Alright, we have a lot of ground to cover... But before I show you that, you should know where you stand.”
