The Templar Detective and the Code Breaker Page 6

  Tanya barked, jumping up on her hind legs, placing her front paws on Simon’s chest.

  “Yeah, you’re right. Reading is better than shoveling.” He turned to Marcus. “We’re in.”

  Marcus eyed him. “I’m so glad you two have come to a decision together.”

  “There was much debate.”

  “I can see that. I wonder, however, if two minds were at work, or if you just share one brain.”

  Simon barked at him, and the children in the doorway squealed in delight, joining in along with Tanya.

  Joanne stood, her hands on her hips, shaking her head. “Now you see what you’ve done? It’ll take me all day to get them to stop.”

  Simon grinned. “Then it’s a good thing we’re leaving.”

  Joanne glared at him, her jaw dropping before she turned her fury toward Marcus. “Just what is he on about?”

  Simon winked then bolted up the hill, leaving Marcus to break the news.

  Hopefully, this drags on for a little while. It might take her more than a few days to calm down.

  15 |

  Thibault Residence Paris, Kingdom of France

  “Frankly, it’s unbelievable!”

  Simone shook her head at what Thomas had just explained to her, Enzo backing up the story told them late last night with the occasional grunt. “It is that. We need to take advantage of this. Imagine! Stealing from those holier than thou monks. They take an oath of poverty, yet are richer than kings!”

  Thomas felt obligated to jump to the defense of the Templars, the few he knew personally nothing but honorable men, and certainly not wealthy. “The Order is, ma’am, not the individuals.”

  Simone spat. “Semantics! We need to figure out how to get in on this.”

  Enzo cleared his throat. “Why not just go see René and make him?”

  Simone’s head slowly bobbed. “We could, but with Pequin involved, that could be dangerous. He’s ruthless.” She looked at Thomas. “If you thought I had no heart, little one, you’d be gutted to find out how depraved that one is. There is a special place in Hell reserved for men like that.”

  Thomas’ eyes bulged. “You believe in such things?”

  She stared at him. “Of course I do! I’m a good Christian!”

  Thomas’ eyes widened further. “But, but…”

  “But what?”

  He stared at the floor, suddenly very uncomfortable. “Umm, nothing.”

  She reached forward, tilting up his chin. “You think I’m evil? That I’m going to burn in Hell for all of eternity under the torments of Satan himself?”

  He did, though he dared not answer.

  She stared at him, her arms folded, accentuating the bust she used to weaken the will of the men she had dealings with. “You do, don’t you? Answer me.”

  His heart hammered at her demand, and he looked away again. “Well, umm, your line of work isn’t, umm, exactly, umm, well…”

  “Christian?”

  He shrugged.

  “Honest?”

  He shrugged again.

  She shook her head, a frown creasing her face. “You truly are a naïve boy. Don’t you see that I provide a service to this community? Don’t you see that I am doing the work of the Lord?”

  Thomas’ eyes outright bulged, his mouth agape, unable to hold his tongue. “Y-you actually believe that?”

  She laughed, tossing her head back. “My boy, I don’t believe it. I know it!” She leaned closer. “Think about it. When someone needs money, they come to me. I provide it to them. This allows them to fulfill their need. They then pay me back when they can.”

  “With interest! And penalties should they be late!” He nodded toward Enzo. “Or worse.”

  “Of course! Even our Lord would agree that if a promise is made, it should be kept. And I ask for nothing more than what our Lord would ask.”

  Thomas shook his head, dropping into his chair, flabbergasted at the gall on display.

  Is she seriously comparing herself to our Lord?

  “You still don’t see it, do you?”

  Thomas threw his hands up in the air. “Of course I don’t! You have so much money compared to those you lend to. If you were truly doing the Lord’s work, then why not simply give them the money, or if you must lend it to them, do so interest-free?”

  She laughed, exchanging glances with a grinning Enzo. “My boy, how do you think I got so much money? It wasn’t by being a charity. That’s what the Church is for. No, I worked hard, and yes, charged interest on the loans I provided. But don’t you see? By charging interest, it gave me more money to lend, which then let me help more people. And the interest I charged those people made me even more money, giving me even more to lend to others and help them.” She sat across from him, staring into his eyes. “Need is a beast that must be continually fed, and I am a fulfiller of need, charging a fee that allows me to fulfill the ever-growing need.” She jabbed a finger at him. “And I am much more kind about it than most in my business, like that cutthroat Pequin. Have you ever known me to kill someone who owes me money?”

  Thomas hadn’t, though that didn’t make her an angel. “No, and God help us all if you ever did. But you’ve had them beaten, their bones broken, and whatnot. You’re not exactly a gentle soul.”

  She chuckled. “True. But that’s all part of doing business. No one must ever think they can borrow from me and not fulfill their obligations. If word were to spread that I might let them get away with it without a toll being exacted, no one would pay me. Enzo here is saving lives by delivering messages not only to a delinquent debtor, but to all those who might think of becoming delinquent themselves.” She sighed, shaking her head. “In time, little one, you’ll come to see that what I do is necessary, and a community service. Am I really that different than your local priest who demands you fill his collection basket with money you don’t have in order to gain entry into Heaven? Forcing the poor to subsidize the Roman Catholic Church, now that’s thievery. I let my debtors keep their money, and only pay me the interest they owe.”

  Thomas grunted. “Meaning they are forever in your debt.”

  She grinned. “It’s a brilliant business, isn’t it? Interest only loans. The key to giving everyone what they want.” She tapped her chin. “Now, back to the business at hand. Now that we know there is a way to beat the Templars at their own game, how do we profit from it, without actually participating?” Her eyes widened, a smile spreading as she laughed, a cackle that sent shivers up and down his spine, a shrill utterance that would have been at home among the Devil’s minions in the pits of Hell where he was certain she would one day permanently reside.

  “What?” he asked, terrified of what the answer might be.

  She shook her head. “Oh, no, there are some things that simply cannot be shared.” She stood then headed out of his office, clearly pleased with herself. “This one, my boy, must be kept to myself. But it will definitely change things around here, should it work.”

  He looked at Enzo who shrugged. “I’ve learned not to ask.”

  16 |

  Chaville, Kingdom of France

  René stood by his horse, staring at the Templar outpost across the street. His entire body trembled, his back soaked with fear, as he closed his eyes, willing himself to calm down.

  Yet it was impossible.

  He should never have gone into that first outpost, yet he had. And the change in procedure was immediately noticed, though only because he had done this so many times, he knew the routine so well. The clerk that had served him had taken notes, the man’s eyes darting from him to the page and back.

  Though that wasn’t all.

  It was the notches on the door, each with a symbol beside it that he knew from having broken the code were numbers. Sequential. He had wondered what they were for, and it wasn’t until he was well out of town that he realized exactly what was going on. The clerk had been taking notes about him, and those notches and their corresponding numbers were to tell the clerk how tall he was.

  It was ingenious.

  And terrifying.

  It meant that his secret had been discovered. These changes in procedure had to be because the Order had figured out someone was manipulating their system. Yet the fact he had walked out, unscathed, suggested they had no idea who that someone might be. But it also meant they would soon have his description once they reconciled his forged letters of credit with the recorded details should he continue. Once they did figure out the similarities, the Templar fortress in Paris would no doubt send his description to every outpost in the area, and the next time he redeemed a Letter of Credit, he’d be flagged and scrutinized in earnest.

  He’d be done for.

  He sighed. And that meant only one thing. If he wanted to save his sisters from Pequin, he had to commit now, before it was too late. He pulled the next Letter of Credit from his saddlebag and squared his shoulders as he took a deep breath.

  Courage, René, courage.

  17 |

  Chaville, Kingdom of France

  “What’s he doing?”

  Lyon shrugged. “I don’t know, but he’s not on a run for us. The boss said he could redeem one a week for himself, but this is the second time today.”

  Alain watched as René disappeared inside the Templar outpost. “Should we st-stop him?”

  Lyon shook his head slowly. “I don’t know. Maybe he is on a run for the boss, and we weren’t told.”

  “But-but what if he isn’t? The boss will be p-pissed if we let him get away with whatever he’s doing.”

  Lyon chewed his cheek, staring at the now closed door of the outpost. “But if we stop him, and the boss sent him, he’ll slit our throats.”

  Alain’s chest tightened and his stomach flipped at the thought of an angry Pequin. The man was terrifying at the best of times, which was why he had foolishly had drinks with Thomas and Enzo. His memory was fuzzy, and he feared he might have said too much, though there had been no consequences—so far.

  And no further offer of employment.

  That fact had him curious. Had it all been a ruse? And if so, to what end? He had talked, but he wasn’t sure what he had said. He had a vague recollection of talking about René, though he was sure he wouldn’t have been that stupid.

  Talk like that could get him killed.

  It had to have been a dream.

  No one crossed Pequin.

  Not if they wanted to live.

  “Umm, maybe we should find out?”

  Lyon nodded. “Good idea. You go back to Paris and find out what the boss wants us to do.”

  Alain’s eyes narrowed. “But I-I won’t be back until to-tomorrow! How will I find you?”

  “Just follow the route. I’ll leave a message at the local tavern closest to the Templar outpost to let you know I’ve been there.”

  Alain frowned. “But that c-could waste a lot of time.”

  Lyon smacked the back of Alain’s head. “Use your head for once! Make a guess as to where you think we’ll be by tomorrow, then head there. If there’s no message, then you know I haven’t arrived yet, so just wait. If there is, then you know to continue on. You’ll catch up soon enough.”

  Alain rubbed the back of his head, always hating it when Lyon hit him like that. “Wh-what if he doesn’t fol-follow the route?”

  “Then head home.”

  “Umm, h-how long should I wait?”

  Another smack left Alain wincing with the shame. “If you pick a town no more than a day’s ride from here, and we don’t reach it by end of day tomorrow, then you know something went wrong. Just head back and let the boss know. Chances are I’ll already be there.”

  “Oh, I get it.”

  Lyon shook his head, sighing. “You’re so stupid, sometimes I wonder if your mother bred with one of the farm animals and not your father.”

  Rage inflamed his stomach. “That’s disgusting.”

  Lyon gestured toward the horses. “You’re an idiot. Now get going before you get lost in the dark, imbecile.”

  Alain said nothing, instead mounting his horse and heading back toward Paris, his stomach in knots, his chest tight, his eyes burning with the tears he so desperately wanted to shed. He was stupid compared to the others. He knew it. And there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t read or write, though few of the crew could. But even simple words, like a sign on a building, were beyond him. Everything simply appeared as a jumble of letters. He could look at the same sign every day and it would never read the same to him.

  Even his eyes were stupid.

  And his stutter was a constant source of delight for those who were supposed to be his friends. He had been afflicted with it his entire life, or at least as long as he could remember. His mother told him he didn’t stutter as a child, and that if he put his mind to it, he’d overcome it, though no matter how hard he tried, it was of no use.

  He was too stupid to speak normally.

  You’re an imbecile, just like he said.

  Just like they all say.

  He sighed, the tears finally flowing as he cleared the outskirts of the town, at last alone with his thoughts.

  But you’re strong.

  It was true. While he might be colossally stupid, he was the strongest man he knew. It was why Pequin kept him around. If muscle was needed, if speed was needed, he could run down a man and lay a beating on him like no one’s business.

  Even two or three good men couldn’t stop him.

  His record was eight, though in their defense, three were so drunk they could barely stand, but five of them put up a good fight. It had been a great night, his stutter and broken mind forgotten by his comrades as they toasted his feat.

  Yet it was soon forgotten, and within days he was the idiot who had lost his village.

  He leaned forward in his saddle, urging his horse onward to Paris, hoping to beat the sun’s dip below the horizon.

  18 |

  Enclos du Temple, Templar Fortress Paris, Kingdom of France

  “I’m afraid he left already.”

  Marcus eyed the man at the front desk of the Templar Headquarters for the Kingdom of France. “But only this morning I received an urgent message to come here and join him.”

  “Yes, sir. Your message was sent late yesterday.” He riffled through a pile of papers before finding what he was looking for. He handed it over. “Sir Damase left this for you.”

  Marcus cracked the seal then unfolded the page, his eyebrows rising with the lengthy instructions on how to find Damase. “Is he serious with this?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know, sir, though he did hand it to me with a straight face.”

  “Of course he did.” He sighed. “Fine. We’ll need provisions for two men and a dog for two days. We’ll resupply at one of our outposts should it become necessary. And two fresh horses.”

  The man snapped his fingers and a boy emerged from the shadows. “You heard Sir Marcus’ requirements?”

  The boy nodded.

  “Then see to them at once.”

  The boy bowed then sped off, nearly running headlong into Sir Matthew Norris.

  Marcus and Simon both bowed to the most senior member of their order in the Kingdom. “Sir Matthew, an honor.”

  Matthew acknowledged them. “I would speak with you, Sir Marcus.”

  Marcus hesitated. “And my sergeant?”

  Matthew eyed Simon for a moment. “Do you keep any secrets from him?”

  “None.”

  “Then I see no point in you having to repeat my words to him.” He spun on his heel and they followed, Simon flashing a toothy grin at Marcus. Simon closed the door to Matthew’s office, and they both waited for him to sit.

  “How may we be of service, sir?”

  Matthew didn’t appear pleased, his face stern, his knuckles white as his hands clenched the arms of his chair. “Sir Damase left without my blessing. I ordered him to wait for you, yet he rushed off without telling me.”

  Marcus shifted in his chair, tempering his desire to leap to his friend’s defense. “I’m certain he had his reasons. He’s a good man, and loyal to the Order. For him to ignore an order from you, well…”

  “I agree. I think he figured out a way to catch whoever is behind this, and decided he couldn’t wait.” He pursed his lips, staring at Marcus then Simon for a moment. “I also fear he doesn’t trust anyone but you.”

  “Surely he trusts you, sir.”

  Matthew grunted. “I would hope so, though I wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. If he’s right about what he’s found—”

  “You have doubts?”

  Matthew sighed. “I did at first, but the evidence he brought is quite compelling. And the implications are significant. If he is right, and I fear he is, and someone has broken our code, it could be a serious blow to the Order. If word were to get out, our entire communications system, and our Letters of Credit, could be called into question. This must be stopped before anyone finds out.”

  Marcus nodded. “Agreed. We can’t have anyone out there who knows our code.” He pursed his lips. “Which begs the question, sir, what do we do if we find whoever is behind this?”

  Matthew sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I too have been troubled by this question. He will have to be interrogated, of course. We must know if he has told anyone of his discovery. If we’re lucky, it’s a lone man who has told no one. But if he has, we must know. If this knowledge has been shared, then we must track down every single person that has been exposed.”

  “Then do what?”

  “Kill them.”

  Marcus’ eyes widened as his chest tightened. “Really? Must it come to that? What about justice?”

  “In this case, justice will be delivered by us, rather than the King and his court.” Matthew shook his head. “If he catches wind, it could be trouble for us. Which is why this must be handled very quietly. Beyond the three of us and Damase, only two others know, and they are in Rome. I trust our people to keep the secret, but men arrested and handed over to the court will reveal what they know, and even if ultimately put to death for the theft of our money, all will know that the code has been broken.” He sighed. “No, I’m afraid we must deal with this ourselves. The risk to the Order is too great.”