'This is a corrupted version of the Ghayat al-Hakim,' he said, retaking his seat. 'Ent.i.tled Picatrix, it's a fifteenth-century Hermetic grimoire that was translated into Latin by the Florentine scholar Marcilio Ficino for his patron Lorenzo de Medici.'

'Does the Latin version mention anything about the Vril force?' McGuire asked, cutting to the chase.

'Not specifically. As I said, it's a corrupted version of the Arabic original. Nonetheless, encoded within the text's magical incantations are instructions for manipulating astral energy.' Caedmon idly flipped through several pages, momentarily distracted by a lavish ill.u.s.tration of a knight, astride a griffin, a sword in one hand and an enemy's head in the other. 'I'm going out on a limb here, but I suspect that, like the Seven, the Knights Templar also had a copy of the original Ghayat al-Hakim. It would explain how the Templars devised their blueprint for the Axe Historique in Paris.'

'According to Uhlemann, a shady Cairo bookseller gave a copy of the original Arabic text to the n.a.z.is,' McGuire informed him. 'How the h.e.l.l did the Templars get their copy of the Ghayat al-Hakim?'

'When the Knights Templar were arrested en ma.s.se in 1307, the Grand Inquisitor accused the Templars of being in league with the agents of Islam.'

'A charge that will land you on a waterboard in Guantanamo these days.'

'And on the rack in the fourteenth century,' Caedmon countered, the torture tactics of the Dominicans far more brutal than those used by the CIA. 'Unlike most of the charges brought against the order, this one actually had merit. During their tenure in the Holy Land, the Knights Templar did maintain a secret affiliation with Ras.h.i.+d ad-Din Sinan. Better known by his guerre de nom, the Old Man in the Mountain, Ras.h.i.+d led a group of Syrian warriors called the a.s.sa.s.sins.'

'Those were the dudes who smoked hash before they went into battle, right?'

Caedmon nodded. 'The has.h.i.+sh induced a psychoactive response, the effects of which turned the a.s.sa.s.sins into raving berserkers on the battlefield. Invincible warriors who knew no fear.'

'You mean warriors who scared the c.r.a.p out of the enemy,' the commando affirmed with earthy aplomb.

'Which mightily impressed the Knights Templar. Although they hailed from different religions and different cultures, the Templars and the a.s.sa.s.sins were nearly identical in one regard: both belonged to a brotherhood of warriors who believed that dying bravely in battle was the only means of achieving glory in heaven. As such, they immediately recognized one another as kindred spirits.'

'I'm a soldier so, yeah, I get it. The Templars wouldn't have had much in common with dandified European knights trying to impress their lady loves at a jousting match,' McGuire sagely observed. 'But they'd be on the same wavelength with the fedayeen.'

'Those who redeem themselves by sacrificing themselves,' Caedmon reflected, having always thought that the fedayeen, a.k.a. the a.s.sa.s.sins, were a cla.s.s of warriors unto themselves.

'During the Crusades, the Templars and the a.s.sa.s.sins maintained this covert relations.h.i.+p, beheading and disembowelling one another on the field of battle, but embracing one another as blood brothers behind closed doors. That clandestine relations.h.i.+p continued after the Europeans lost control of the Holy Land. Which leads me to one other shared commonality.' Caedmon paused, certain that his next remarks would elicit a sceptical jeer from the commando. 'Both the Templars and the a.s.sa.s.sins were deeply involved in acquiring esoteric and arcane knowledge. Although the Old Man in the Mountain maintained his base of operations in Syria, he was a subject of the Fatamid Caliphate who '

'Built the House of Knowledge in Egypt,' McGuire interjected, much to Caedmon's surprise. 'Uhlemann mentioned it when we were at the cemetery. The Dar ul-Hikmat, or House of Knowledge, was an academic centre of learning with a renowned library.'

'You're quite right,' Caedmon murmured, impressed with the commando's flawless recall. 'The House of Knowledge was also the repository for ancient Egyptian esoteric texts that had been smuggled out of Alexandria before the Christian horde destroyed that Great Library. As I've already mentioned, I suspect the Old Man in the Mountain, who would have had access to the House of Knowledge, bequeathed a copy of the original Arabic ma.n.u.script to the Knights Templar.'

'Which is how the Templars got a hold of the instruction manual for building ley lines and generating the Vril force.'

Caedmon nodded. 'While the Templars had the knowledge, they didn't have the essential component, the pyramidal Grail stone. Had they located the ancient relic and used it to generate the Vril force, in the words of the famed occultist Eliphas Levi, the Knights Templar would have attained "the secret of human omnipotence".'

'Incoming,' McGuire said abruptly, canting his chin at the laptop computer as it emitted an electronic chirp.

'Right.'

Using his left hand, Caedmon pulled the computer on to his lap. The incoming email was from Trent Saunders, his old group leader at Five. He quickly opened the attachment and scanned the utility records for the Seven Research Foundation. As he'd hoped, there were two separate accounts: one for the Seven's headquarters in the penthouse office suite at the Grande Arche and a second electric bill.

'It seems that their laboratory is located at the Grande Arche.'

'f.u.c.k!' McGuire pounded on the sofa cus.h.i.+on with a balled fist. 'You mean that's where they've been hiding out? I went there three times and n.o.body was home.'

'You went to the penthouse suite three times. According to the billing records, the Seven Research Foundation has a laboratory in the bas.e.m.e.nt of the Grande Arche. Most people are unaware that there's an extensive complex beneath the building.'

'The Seven would've had to obtain construction permits to build their lab,' McGuire stated, quickly stowing his anger. 'Can you get me the architectural plans and the schematics for the mechanicals? I need to know where the power lines, air-conditioning and heating vents, and water pipes are located.'

'Consider it done.' Caedmon quickly typed an email reply to Trent Saunders and hit the 'send' b.u.t.ton.

'Before we move to the next phase of this operation, I just want to make sure that we're on the same page.' Eyes narrowed, McGuire stared at him. Caedmon had the distinct impression that the other man was taking his measure. 'The Seven Research Foundation is a clear and present danger. Is that your take on the situation?'

'No need to worry; we're singing from the same page of the hymnal.'

The other man smirked. 'Glad to have you in the choir. And before you even ask, no, we can't go to the authorities. Since I'm a fugitive, this has to remain a two-man duet.'

Caedmon let the addendum pa.s.s, McGuire having uncannily pre-empted him.

'How do you propose we combat the danger?' he asked instead, deferring to McGuire's expertise as a Special Forces commando.

'To win the battle, you have to go on the offensive. Now that we've got a fix on their location, we can charge the barricade.' Getting up from the sofa, McGuire walked over and retrieved his plastic shopping bag. 'Earlier today I bought a few supplies. I always say, "No need for calculus when simple math will do".' He hefted a bag of sugar in one hand and a bottle of bleach in the other. 'Sucrose plus pota.s.sium chlorate equals Kaboom!'

Caedmon smiled humourlessly.

'Gotterdammerung ... b.l.o.o.d.y brilliant.'

73.

Seven Research Laboratory 2015 hours 'My father's equation is a stunning scientific achievement,' Dr Uhlemann continued, standing beside the chalkboard. 'Unfortunately, he will never receive the credit and acclaim due him.'

Staring at the lengthy equation, Kate winced. For theoretical physicists, advanced mathematics was their window on to the world. For everyone else, her included, those elaborate, seemingly never-ending series of numerals, letters and symbols were like seeing 'through a gla.s.s, darkly'.

'This is a particularly elegant calculation,' Dr Uhlemann remarked, using a piece of white chalk to underline a section of the equation. 'Since your father is an astrophysicist, I a.s.sume that you've heard of frame dragging.'

The last comment caught Kate by surprise. Studying the equation with renewed interest, she nodded. 'In fact, my father's research involves the frame-dragging effect of black holes.'

'Then you undoubtedly know that frame-dragging occurs when a rotating body, such as a planet or a black hole, drags the s.p.a.cetime continuum around itself.'

'When I was a child, my father described it as swirling a bowling ball in a tub full of caramel, the bowling ball being the rotating body and the caramel, the s.p.a.cetime continuum.' A silly but effective visual description.

'That stirring up of s.p.a.cetime was first described by Einstein in his Theory of General Relativity. Amazingly, Einstein correctly predicted the effect eighty years before it was actually observed on X-ray astronomy satellites.' Dr Uhlemann waved a blue-veined hand in the air. 'But I digress. To get back on point: when frame-dragging occurs, if the twisting of s.p.a.ce is strong enough, it will also twist time, producing a closed time-like curve.'

'And once you have a CTC, you can travel backward in time.' A split-second later, befuddled, Kate shook her head. 'But that's specific to black holes. How are you going to create a frame-dragging effect in a laboratory setting?'

Still holding the piece of chalk, Dr Uhlemann vigorously tapped the underlined equation. 'This is the part of the equation where my father proved that a rotating beam of light could create the same frame-dragging gravitational effect as a rotating body. Using my father's equations, our research team designed a tower of continuously rotating light beams, one stacked on top of another.'

Kate glanced at the hermetically sealed gla.s.s enclosure. 'I'm having a really difficult time envisioning how that is going to turn into a rotating light tower which will then created a frame-dragging effect.'

Stepping away from the chalkboard, Dr Uhlemann walked over to a nearby computer console. A monster in the guise of an old-world gentleman, he held the back of an office chair, motioning for her to sit down. As she did, Kate recalled that Adolf Hitler reputedly had perfect Viennese manners.

'Engineering a working prototype took years of research and development. At first, we thought optic fibres could be used to build a rotating light tower, but that proved a futile endeavour. We even briefly considered photonic crystals.' As he spoke, Dr Uhlemann pecked on the keyboard, typing in what appeared to be a coded pa.s.sword. 'We finally settled on a system of stacked lasers.' Finished typing, he spun around in his chair and gestured to the four rectilinear columns set in the middle of the enclosure. 'The prototype that you see before you was constructed using red laser lights. Each of the four columns is lined with twenty-five hundred diode lasers. Are you familiar with laser technology?'

Nodding, Kate said, 'Most people are unaware that the word "laser" is actually an acronym for "light amplification by stimulated emission of radiation".'

'And what differentiates laser light from normal light ' Dr Uhlemann picked up a pen-like laser from the computer console and flipped it on 'is that a laser projects a thin beam.' He emphasized the point by s.h.i.+ning the red beam of light around the laboratory. 'A coherent beam of thin light is the key to creating the light tower. Allow me to demonstrate.'

With an air of heightened drama, he hit the 'enter' key. Instantly, ten thousand red laser lights switched on, swirling within the confines of the four black columns at a dizzying speed. It immediately put Kate in mind of a spectacular light show at a big-name rock concert. The only thing missing was the smoke machine and blaring guitar.

'Une tour de la lumiere, as the French would say. Beautiful, isn't it?' Like a proud father, Dr Uhlemann stared at the six-foot-high blur of radiant red light.

'Wow,' Kate marvelled, grudgingly impressed. s.h.i.+elding her eyes with her hand, she said, 'Since light normally travels in a straight line, how did you get all of those laser lights to continuously swirl in the same direction?'

'The mirrors embedded on the columns cause the light to swirl in a circular pattern. What you can't see is that the rotating beams create a gravitational field which will produce a frame-dragging effect. The area inside the tower of light is where s.p.a.ce is being twisted. Once we have a strong enough light energy, the twisted s.p.a.ce will create a closed time-like curve. When that happens, any particle placed in the gravitational field will be dragged along the closed-time loop.' Dr Uhlemann spoke with barely restrained emotion, his voice rising and falling, a verbal pendulum that increased momentum with each impa.s.sioned swing.

Getting up from his chair, Dr Uhlemann walked over to the enclosure. Pointing to the light tower, he said, 'This CTC device was built with laser light. Once we have generated the Vril force, we will use the Vril to create what we call a vaser light.'

'I a.s.sume that you'll then reconfigure the CTC device, replacing the lasers with ten thousand vaser lights.'

The red light reflected eerily off Dr Uhlemann's face, bathing him in a demonic glow. 'Those ten thousand vasers will give us a coherent rotating swirl of high-frequency Vril light.'

Still s.h.i.+elding her eyes, Kate glanced at the enclosure. 'Why can't you just use laser lights to operate the CTC device?'

'For the simple reason that a laser doesn't have a high enough frequency to twist the s.p.a.cetime continuum,' Dr Uhlemann informed her. 'I'm sure you're aware that Einstein won his n.o.bel Prize not for his Theory of General Relativity but for his work with the photoelectric effect.'

'In which he proved that the higher the frequency of light, the greater maximum kinetic energy produced.'

'Exactly so. When we replace the lasers with our specially designed vaser lights, the rotating light tower will have sufficient energy and torque to twist s.p.a.ce. When the frame-dragging effect is strong enough, it will not only twist s.p.a.ce, but it will create a closed time-like curve in the s.p.a.cetime continuum.'

'But how are you going to send a human being through your closed-time loop?' Having been a Trekker when she was a teenager, Kate envisioned the transporter chamber from the Star Trek television series.

'At this stage in the research, it would be impossible to transport a human through the CTC device.'

Hearing that, Kate did a double-take at the red swirling lights. Bewildered, she asked the obvious: 'Then what's the point of all this?'

'While it's not possible at this stage to transport a human being, it is entirely possible to transmit information.'

'So you're what? going to send an email or fax through a closed time-like curve?'

'Don't be flip, my dear. It's unbecoming,' Dr Uhlemann snapped churlishly as he stepped over to the computer console and retook his seat. 'Although we'll be able to transmit information, we can't utilize any technology that didn't exist in the year 1940. Because of that constraint, we're going to send radio signals through the closed-time loop. Which is why it's more appropriate to refer to this ' he gestured to the swirling red tower of light 'as a communication machine rather than a time machine.'

While her grasp of physics lacked his breadth, Kate understood enough to see the flaw in Dr Uhlemann's design. 'In order to transmit information backward into time, someone would have had to have built a communication machine in the past that can receive your transmission. Otherwise, you have nothing to send your information to.'

Dr Uhlemann smiled knowingly, as though he'd been antic.i.p.ating her objection. 'In December of 1940, my father designed and activated a receiver apparatus for that very purpose. The information we transmit through our CTC device will be received by the original Seven in 1940 on their receiver.'

'Jeez, talk about thinking ahead,' Kate murmured. Gnawing on her lower lip, she tried to come at the problem from a different angle. 'But wouldn't your father's receiver have to be turned on and running right now in the twenty-first century?' When Dr Uhlemann confirmed this with a nod, she then said, 'If he turned on the receiver in 1940 and left it running, the battery to operate it would have drained decades ago. Rendering it useless.'

'As I've told you before, Doctor Bauer, you need to start thinking outside the box.' Insult delivered, he folded his arms over his chest. 'Do you happen to know how the first telegraph wires were powered in the mid-nineteenth century?'

Actually, she did know the answer, Caedmon having mentioned it a few days earlier when they were at the Louvre. 'An earth battery using telluric currents was utilized.' No sooner were the words out of her mouth than the realization hit, like a broad-handed slap to the face. 'The Seven manufactured an earth battery for their receiver, didn't they?'

'Ensuring that it will never run out of power. A simple, but ingenious, solution.' Dr Uhlemann chuckled conceitedly, well aware that he was holding four aces in his hand. 'The original Seven knew that it would be years, decades even, before a working CTC device could be designed and constructed. They had to find a means to keep a receiver fully charged and operational in perpetuity. Caching the receiver in the catacombs beneath Paris, they were able to directly tap into underground telluric currents.'

Kate glanced at the mathematical equation on the chalkboard. The 'T's had been crossed decades ago by the original Seven. All that remained was for their children to dot the 'I's.

'Will you be able to have two-way radio communication with the original Seven?'

'Alas, no. While our fathers will be able to receive our transmission, they won't be able to reply. Nonetheless, they are anxiously awaiting the transmission.' Blue eyes excitedly gleaming, he gestured to the gla.s.s enclosure. 'This is our dream about to come to fruition. Knowing that our fathers are poised and ready to act, we have already put together a comprehensive information packet.'

Information. The ultimate weapon of ma.s.s destruction. Scientia potentia est.

'Knowledge is power' as Caedmon used to always say.

Soon, Dr Uhlemann and the Seven Research Foundation would be able to transmit to their fathers the ultimate war plan that would secure victory for the Third Reich.

The few bites of her dinner that she'd managed to eat began to congeal in her stomach.

Earlier, she'd wondered how Dr Uhlemann would use light to create a closed time-like curve. Now she knew.

She also now knew what was meant by the phrase 'evil genius'.

74.

Oberkampf Neighbourhood, Paris 0500 hours Dolf Reinhardt ran the carbon steel blade across his head, carefully shaving the blond stubble from his scalp.

It was important that he look his best today. For today he aimed to impress. He didn't know what was planned to occur later this morning; he wasn't privy to the closed-door meetings at the Seven Research Foundation. But he knew something momentous was in the works. He'd eavesdropped on enough conversations to ascertain that it had to do with the Third Reich. Perhaps Herr Doktor had plans to launch a new National Socialist Party to oust the immigrants from Germany. Whatever it was, Dolf instinctively knew that he would soon be able to prove his worth.

He stepped closer to the cracked mirror above the bathroom sink, making one last pa.s.s with the cut-throat blade. Tilting his head from side to side, he inspected his handiwork. Unable to detect any stubble, he rinsed the blade clean. He then swabbed his head with a soapy cloth, was.h.i.+ng away the residue from his peppermint-scented shaving oil. Removing the bath towel knotted at his waist, he used it to dry his head.

'Scheisse,' he muttered angrily, accidentally bas.h.i.+ng his swollen nose.

Flinging the damp towel into the corner, he strode naked out of the bathroom.

He'd not realized until yesterday that his mother had been the one holding him back all these years. Because of her, he was like a horse tethered to a post. A thoroughbred stallion full of sturm und drang. Not the pliant plough horse that everyone made him out to be.

'Go home and see to your mother, Dolf.'

Herr Doktor Uhlemann, knowing that Dolf's primary responsibility was to his aged mother, had been unwilling to promote him. Instead he'd kept him hobbled these last eight years behind the wheel of the Mercedes Benz. He didn't hold it against Herr Doktor. His vision clear, Dolf now understood. He'd finally figured out that Herr Doktor Uhlemann had been unwilling to give him additional responsibility, fearing his professional duties would always come in a distant second.

Today, Herr Doktor would learn that he could always depend on Dolf.

Opening the wardrobe, he removed a velvet-covered box from the top shelf. He pried the lid open, the hinge softly creaking. Inside, nestled on a bed of white satin, was a gleaming disc on a green grosgrain ribbon. His European Junior Boxing gold medal. Dolf slipped his shaved head through the ribbon, adjusting the medal so that it rested squarely in the middle of his chest. It proved that he was a champion. That he could hold his own in any ring.

In a hurry, he hastily donned the clean clothes that he'd laid out on the bed. Before slipping into his black suit jacket, he brushed it with a piece of tape to remove any stray pieces of lint.

Finished dressing, he left his bedroom and made his way down the dimly lit hall to his mother's room. Opening the door, he smiled broadly as he stepped across the threshold. The bedside lamp illuminated the room in a golden glow. Dolf always left the light turned on at night, worried that his mother might be afraid of the dark.