The Templar Vault *** NUMBER ONE BOOK ***: A Peter Sparke Book, page 14
"Emergency, which service?"
Tilly thought for a moment. "Mountain Rescue."
"Can I have your name?"
"My name is Matilda Pink."
"Will you be available on this number if we need to call you back?"
"Yes."
"Your location?"
"I'm in the car, driving, just north of Crianlarich."
"Please stay on the line, I am connecting you now." There was a few seconds’ silence, then a click on the line.
"Mountain Rescue," said a new voice.
"I need to report an injured person in the hills."
"Do you have a location?"
"I have a grid reference," she said, reading out the combination of letters and digits Sparke had sent her.
"Can you repeat that please?"
She gave the reference again.
"Thank you. Can you describe the condition of the person?"
"He called me and said that he was injured. I think it is a head injury. He sounded disorientated. I can't reach him when I call and I am driving up there now."
"Is he alone?"
"Yes."
"Do you have his name and mobile number?"
Tilly responded, reading out the number. She juggled the phone in one hand as she steered with the other and was glad that the person on the other end of the phone was so calm.
"Please hold." There was silence on the line as they checked the number.
"Is he likely to contact you if he can make a call?"
"Yes, I would say so."
"You said you are driving to the area now?"
"Yes, I am."
"We have alerted the local police and mountain rescue. Will you be on this number?"
"Yes."
"Please keep the line clear in case we call."
"Yes, of course," said Tilly hanging up.
She drove on for another thirty minutes watching the screen on her GPS system. It was now fully dark. As the road took a long, sweeping turn she noticed a number of vehicles parked at what looked like the entrance to a farm road. Two had blue flashing lights spinning on the roof. She pulled over and walked up to the small group of men who had all turned to look at her.
"Hello, my name is Matilida Pink. I made a 999 call about an injured walker."
A police sergeant in a bright yellow rain jacket looked at the flexible weatherproof computer screen wrapped around his forearm then looked at Tilly and said, “What was the name of the person you called in?"
"His name is Sparke, he told me he had a head injury and that there was a lot of blood and then I could not get hold of him on his phone."
"And we think he is alone?" said the police sergeant. Tilly nodded.
As Tilly and policeman spoke a third vehicle arrived, also with blue flashing lights. Like the police cars it was a four wheel drive Land Rover, unlike them it looked as though it had done a lot of hard miles on rough road.
The driver walked over calmly to the policeman and Tilly, leaving the other three occupants to start unloading and sorting through piles of equipment in the back of the car. "Bob," he said, nodding to the sergeant.
"Callum," nodded the policeman in return. "This is the young lady who called this in. Location seems pretty certain, three hours since anyone heard from him. His phone is not registering now, but it could just be out of power."
Callum was the leader of the local mountain rescue team. Unlike the police officers, he was an unpaid volunteer. No one had authority over him. He could turn around and walk away at any time. Any authority he possessed was earned entirely by his experience and his skills in bringing aid to those lost and in mortal danger in the mountains, often in extreme conditions. He looked quickly at Tilly then placed his map case on the front of his Land Rover.
"The shortest way in is straight up from here along the glen then up on foot passed the Gatehouse Stone. We'll drive in as far as the ground will allow and then it is on foot. Two hours."
He looked at the policeman.
"It might be worthwhile if you could go in the long way, turn off at the Sheep's Neck, come in through the north pass and meet us here at the wee loch. Assuming all goes well we can bring in the helicopter for a pick up. Make sense?"
The policeman did not question either the plan or the authority of a civilian to give him instructions. He nodded and turned to Tilly.
"You can wait here or go on to Fort William if you like."
"Can't I come with you?"
The policeman looked at Tilly's well-worn hiking clothes and nodded. "We might need a hand in the search, so if you are happy to muck in you can."
The mountain rescue team clambered back into their Land Rover as the policeman opened the farm gate to allow them through and they started their slow, jolting journey over wet ground, tracing Sparke's steps of earlier that day.
Both police Land Rovers now turned back into the road and began to trace the roundabout road that would take them into the valley from the north.
They drove for almost an hour before they drew to a halt on a steep rise in the road. The road here was pinched in between a steep fall in the land on one side and, on the other by a small rock face. The police sergeant turned to Tilly. "You doing all right there?"
Tilly nodded. "Fine thanks, why have we stopped?"
"This is where we leave the main road, this is the Sheep's Neck. From here we are going to drive straight along there." He gestured into the darkness. "It is an old military road, but quite passible. Then we should well be in sight of your friend's last location."
As he spoke Tilly heard radios squawking and a babble of barely intelligible voices coming through. The sergeant seemed to be talking to Tilly and listening to the radio at the same time.
He paused for a minute to listen to the radio noise and then said, "We are about thirty minutes out, so we are setting up the helicopter. As soon as we find your chum we might want him out as soon as possible."
Within a few minutes both police Land Rovers started along a road that was grass covered, but reasonably smooth. As the road rose into the hills, the lead driver stopped again and opened a gateway that took them straight onto the bare hillside. A break in the clouds lit up the barren hillside in moonlight. The land sloped upwards gently and the cars moved over the wet grass with their headlights bouncing and dipping like strange night animals.
Another ten minutes of this brought them to the lip of the north end of the valley. As they crested the pass, the radios barked into life again. The mountain rescue team had just entered the valley from the southern end. Two minutes later another voice from the radio boomed out and echoed around the inside the Land Rover. It was the pilot of the Royal Air Force search-and-rescue helicopter. The police coming into the valley from the north, the mountain rescue team from the south and the helicopter were all in radio contact now, converging on Sparke’s last known location.
The ground in the valley was easy going, so both the mountain rescue team on foot and the police Land Rovers made fast time towards the hundred-metre-square area covered by the grid reference Tilly had provided.
"Nothing on the heat sensitive, so far," said the helicopter pilot over the radio. "We’ll try the big light."
A huge pool of light suddenly splashed onto the valley floor as the helicopter switched on its searchlight.
The light swept slowly across the north face of the valley. The slope was too steep to allow for a landing so a crewman stood ready at the open door of the aircraft ready to be winched down, while a second crewman hung out of the other door watching for potential obstacles that could endanger the aircraft. At this altitude and in these mountains it took one person to fly a helicopter, but four to guide it safely.
The pool of light moved steadily over the ground, pausing briefly when it reached the broken stones of an old ruined building. There was nothing there to see so it swept slowly on along the hillside in a grid search pattern, each pass being slightly higher than the one before.
As the helicopter turned again to make another pass, the edge of the pool of light passed again just above the ruins.
"Movement," barked the voice of the winch operator inside the pilot’s helmet. He responded immediately bringing the aircraft to a hover. Again the winchman spoke. "Back ten metres.... Back five metres...hold, hold."
Fifty metres below, Sparke had crawled out of the passageway and was now clearly visible. He was obviously in trouble, kneeling on the grassy slope, covered in blood and apparently unaware of the presence of the helicopter hovering just about him.
The winch operator now took charge of directing the aircraft metre by metre as the helicopter began to lower one of the crewmen by wire, down towards Sparke.
The winch unwound quickly, bringing the crewman closer and closer to Sparke, who still showed no sign of being aware of the helicopter. It was only when the crewman, dressed in fluorescent orange jumpsuit and white helmet, was almost within arm’s reach that Sparke seemed to notice him. He snapped his head towards the crewman, obviously struggling to focus, and then lurched drunkenly to his feet. He stumbled, slipping down the wet hillside landing flat on his back as the crewman touched down by his side.
Sparke finally managed to focus on the figure which loomed above him. His last action as he passed out was to land a feeble punch on the side of his rescuer's helmet.
Tilly heard the radio inside the police Land Rover burst into life. "Lone man, head injuries, just about conscious."
There was a pause, then the pilot asked "Are you sure he was alone?"
The sergeant turned around in the vehicle to look at Tilly, who nodded. "Yes," said the sergeant into his radio.
Again the voice of the pilot came over the air, "He seems agitated. He is pointing into the mouth of a small cave or something next to the ruins. Can you check it out when you get here? Probably nothing there."
From the base of the valley, Tilly could see, illuminated by the glare of the helicopter searchlight, the first members of the mountain rescue team dropping out of sight into a tiny black hole in the hillside. A few moments later the figure of the group's leader clambered back out, and a voice crackled over the radio in the police Land Rover. "Bob, Callum here, you'd better get your boys in blue up here."
"What have you found?" he asked into the radio, casting a look toward Tilly in the back seat.
"Well," said Callum, "this is one of those things you just have to see for yourself."
THE END
Epilogue
“Was I eaten by a helicopter?” asked Sparke.
“I think you were actually, but obviously you didn’t taste very nice as you seem to be in one piece,” said the young doctor looking into Sparke's left eye.
Every part of Sparke’s body was stiff with pain, especially his head. The young doctor was peering at him carefully. He tested his arms and feet for responsiveness and shone a small torch in his eyes.
“Fortunately your head took all the impact,” he said casually. “How do you feel?”
“Like I have been eaten by a helicopter.”
“Good, good,” answered the doctor. “You lost an awful lot of blood and have had some nasty concussion.” He pulled back the dressing on his temple. “Nice scars, should heal up well and the swelling will be gone soon enough.”
“How long have I been here?”
The doctor looked at the chart above Sparke’s bed.
“Almost four days, all told.”
The door to the room opened and a nurse entered. Sparke saw a police officer sitting outside in the corridor.
“Police?” he asked the doctor.
“You have been in the news, Mr Sparke,” said the nurse in a sing-song voice. “Can’t move for journalists and camera people out there. The police have stopped a few people even trying to sneak in for photographs”
At the sound of voices the policeman knocked and put his head round the door. He looked at Sparke, then the doctor, smiled and disappeared, reaching for his radio.
The doctor stopped his examination and stood back, looking at Sparke. “We have been asked if you are fit enough for some visitors later today. What do you think, yourself?”
“Fine by me,” said Sparke. “I have slightly lost track of things to be honest.”
“Super, you just have rest there for the moment. Hungry?”
Sparke nodded carefully and both nurse and doctor left the room.
As he lay on the bed his memories began to clarify and to fall into order, but they still seemed vague and not part of his own experience. He was still going through events in his head later that day when his door opened and Tilly walked in.
“You look a lot better today than you did on the hill,” she said smiling.
Sparke smiled as best he could. “Looks like I caused some problems. The police seem to have taken up residence.”
“Well yes,” sighed Tilly. “As soon as the mountain rescue people had you safe they went into the passageway to make sure that there was no one else in there. The bodies they found caused quite a bit of discussion as you might imagine. Caused a bit of a mess too since they tracked your blood all over the place. There really was an awful lot of blood.”
“The nurse said the press were causing a bit of a problem.”
“Normally, if someone finds something interesting we manage to keep it quiet for a while, but since so many people walked right into the chamber it was a secret that just couldn’t keep. It was on the internet by morning and for the last two days it has been in the news all over the world, to be honest. The police have had to close off the whole valley.”
“So, you have been inside?”
“Yes, in fact once I realised what it was I stayed on site with the police until the cavalry arrived so I have spent quite a lot of time there.”
Sparke thought for a while, struggling to focus his memories of his time in the cavern. “What was the thing in the wooden box?”
“Now that is a question worth asking. I had to describe it for the government chappy and I called it a ‘stone box artefact, heavily inscribed’, but you can probably guess what the press are calling it.”
Sparke made no answer, but kept looking at Tilly. Eventually she sighed and pulled a newspaper out of her bag.
The front page was taken up by a headline and a photograph of him taken from the company’s website. The headline said: “The Man Who Discovered The Ark of the Covenant.”
“Some of the other papers focus more on the rest of the find.” She pulled out a tabloid newspaper. “This one leads with ‘Treasure Mountain’ for example.”
“What happens now?”
“What happens now is probably going to be a bit of a circus for a while,” answered Tilly. “The world and its camera crew want a piece of you. The government wants a word with you as you might imagine. They have a very quaint, but effective law called Treasure Trove that will work out how much this is all worth and you will get a pretty good share of that. The National Heritage department has possession of everything but so far nothing is being moved.”
“What else was in there?”
“Apart from the thing we are calling the stone box artefact, dozens of lead coffers full of gold coins and eight dead men? We don’t know, some of the lead cases may contain documentation, archives possibly, but that will take a long time to figure out. We can’t even x-ray the caskets so they will need to be opened one at a time.”
Sparke looked down at the newspaper in his lap and turned the page. He saw a huge photograph of Tilly standing in the rainy countryside.
“What about you?” he asked.
“I have been asked to lead the project from our side. Not the recovery, obviously, but the archiving. I think my life is pretty well marked out for the next few years."
Sparke smiled slightly at her obvious pleasure in the idea, and then thought for a moment before speaking.
"You know more about the Templars than anyone I have ever heard of, so there is something bothering me. For the Templars to get that amount of material from wherever it was hidden to Scotland, and then bury it under a mountain when half of Europe was screaming for their blood must have been a massive job. From what I saw, it looks like they were not under any duress when they were entombed in the vault."
He looked over to Tilly to make sure he was on firm ground. She nodded slightly so he continued.
"So, why would they go to all those lengths and at the last moment suddenly decide to hack open the wooden box they were so determined to protect?"
Tilly's brow creased as she thought. After a long silence she smiled slightly and said, "There is one idea that might be worth thinking about."
Join Peter Sparke on another exciting in The Kaiser's Navigator… click on next page to discover more….
Also by Scott Chapman:
The Kaiser's Navigator
Crushed in the Antarctic ice, the wreck of a ship lies seven thousand miles away from where it was reported lost over a century ago. Nearby, the bodies of her passengers and crew wait entombed, frozen in time.
The lost ship is now at the centre of an international race against time played out against the tense backdrop of the South Atlantic as Britain and Argentina jostle for ownership of the seas around the Falkland Islands.
Peter Sparke, an international crisis manager, is brought in to uncover the truth behind the fate of the ship and the enigma of how the life of one young officer of the Kaiser's navy a century ago holds the key to the truth.
Click here for The Kaiser's Navigator on amazon.com
Click here for The Kaiser's Navigator on amazon.co.uk
Scott Chapman, The Templar Vault *** NUMBER ONE BOOK ***: A Peter Sparke Book
