Truthseekers Page 5

  “Wives… I thought Templars took a vow of chastity?” Rocko said. “That’s why I was never one.” He laughed out loud at his own joke.

  “That’s what is written, but what Stacey turned up in documents that have come into the public eye only in the last few years is that there were wives, only for those at the highest level. Like… do your crusade then get laid.” David smiled at his crude line too. “In fact they were often disguised as nuns and had the name, the Ladies of Tsion, which linked to their Judaic roots. In this way there were generations of Templars, which were portrayed as cousins but really were father and son. These were the most trusted.”

  “OK OK … so Templars had geisha girls… tell me why I am in Cambodia again?”

  “Oh Rocko, never had patience did you?” quipped David. “You see when King Phillip had the Templars arrested over forty ships escaped. That’s a lot of people. My belief is they went far and wide. I believe they knew who was the family lineage of Christ and took them to protect them. I remember seeing Xs at Angkor Wat, so I thought what better place to start than to come here and look for the hooked X.”

  “Oh well…” said Rocko “At least Mr C will have some beers waiting for us.”

  7

  “Mr David, Mr Rock… over here!”

  The voice was distinctly Mr C’s. He had been patiently waiting at the ticket office to Angkor Wat. Smiling broadly and a few pounds heavier than the last time they saw him, Mr C gave them a big hug. At 33 years old he was one of a new breed of entrepreneur in Cambodia and he had his finger on the pulse of everything. Mr C had been around and was considered almost an old man in a population that boasts 75% under the age of 30.

  “So good to see you again. Mr Rock you look very fat… you will need beer.” Mr C’s Asian brutality made Rocko laugh and give C a big hug, ruffling his head.

  “Where’s that beer C? You look like you drank a whole case just waiting for us.”

  “You know me. I save farmer. They have no water. So I drink beer, save them water… ha ha.” The three friends roared with laughter.

  It was always good to see Mr C. He made stupid jokes and never took life too seriously. How could you, David always thought, when at age 10 you were carrying an AK47 and watching your school friends being used for land mine bait?

  “I already pay for Angkor pass. You just need photo so they can see you,” said C.

  David always shook his head at Angkor Wat. Here it was one of the seven wonders of the world and a UNESCO Heritage site, yet it was US$20 a day to get in and all the money went to Prime Minister Hun Sen’s son-in-law. At 2 million tourists a year, David really regretted paying him part of $40 million in income. Worse still was the country then asked every other country to sponsor the works at Angkor Wat because there was no money.

  He watched Rocko march up to the window, beer in hand, and smile and point at his Angkor Beer. Rocko’s official Angkor pass, him and a beer smiling had all the girls in the shop giggling at him. David tried it as well, but they took no notice of him.

  “Come, let’s go… David, you want to find the X at the Temple, it may take a long time,” said C.

  David replied: “Yes I need to see it for myself. I know I have seen one.”

  “Sure sure,” C agreed “Let’s go for more tuk tuk.”

  If anyone could find a symbol in 402 square kilometres of ruins it would be Mr C, David thought. The guy knew everything there was to know about what was the biggest city on Earth in the 12th century. 1.2 million residents had lived in Angkor Wat, which translated simply means Capital City.

  It was a short ride to the massive 7-kilometre moat around the Temple. Just enough time for Rocko to down two beers and keep clinging cans with Mr C continually saying: “Cheers Long Ears Khmers and Si Slap,” meaning ‘We will die tomorrow’ a favourite salutation of the Khmer people during the war.

  At the moat David jumped out and led the way over the causeway to the King’s Entrance. Angkor Wat never ceased to amaze both he and Rocko. Even the big guy was pretty speechless the first time he visited. David dodged the groups of Koreans that seemed to invade every corner of Angkor Wat and strode through the King’s Entrance past the statue of Shiva the world destroyer and into the complex.

  “OK Mr C, point us in the right direction,” enthused David.

  A broad smile came across C’s face and he pointed just a metre away.

  “There’s one.”

  “…oh and there’s another,” he said, grinning.

  “Oh and there…” still grinning

  “… and there and there and there and there…”

  “OK C!” David held up his hand. “I get the picture, they are everywhere. But what the hell, I googled X at Angkor Wat and got nothing.”

  “Ha ha ha,” mirthed Rocko. “Looks like you got X cited over nothing and flew halfway across the world for it.”

  David gave Rocko the glare and turned to C

  “But C, these X’s are everywhere… and no one talks about them. What do they mean?”

  “They mean ancient Khmer people like the shape of X. It’s for the same reason you explain about a man and a woman being an X. King Jayavaram Number 7, he like to make a dick with a pussy… ha ha ha.”

  C started to realise David was getting a little perturbed.

  “But David you come look here. This one a little different.”

  David followed C along a line of Xs upon which stood the stunning frescoes that made up the temple complex. About ten metres from the entrance and just in one spot David saw it. The X was different. It had a hook.

  “C, that’s it. Look Rocko, it’s a hooked X, but why here?”

  C smiled and shuffled his feet as he did when he was being humble but really wanted to prove himself.

  “You want more beer… then I tell you… No… OK … Well, David, this one. It gets the sun at sunrise but only on one special day every year.”

  “The solstice!” Rocko chimed in.

  “No, Rock,” said Mr C “On July 7.”

  “Jesus’ birthday!” exclaimed David

  “But Jesus, he not born at Christmas? … maybe he scared of Santa Claus.” C laughed with Rocko at this stupid joke.

  “No guys…” David replied “Jesus was in fact born on the 7th of July 40 BC, he wasn’t 33 when he died and he wasn’t born at Christmas. The Church just changed his birthday later on to suit an existing festival. This proves the Templars were here. I knew they were. They went everywhere. But it also means that I doubt they had the chosen one with them. It may have been be too dangerous to bring him here. How well did the Khmers like outsiders back then C?”

  “Is no problem for us. You see Angkor Wat temple started being built in 1113 and finish in 1180. After that we have problem. That is the end of the Khmer empire though and after many war, we run away as Siamese from Thailand invade us. We not scared of Western people. They not the same. Not want our kingdom.”

  Rocko was getting up to speed real fast. He’d even lost interest in the pretty Korean girls that were everywhere around the temple complex.

  “How do you know this wasn’t the place they brought him, David? The dates seem to line up.”

  “Because there are no runes, Rocko, that’s why. The hooked X is reportedly as Stacey found out surrounded by a message in runes an ancient Nordic language from the Templars in Finland and Sweden, who were part of the Vikings. Seeing this symbolising such a sacred date here is simply telling those that know what they are looking for that this is not the place. I have no doubt Templars were here, but before they had to hide the chosen one. They simply lent technology to the Khmers. They were already great builders and this may have been a strong ally, but it’s not what I am looking for.”

  Rocko threw his hands in the air. “Well that’s cool then. I’m hungry. Let’s go to Khmer Kitchen, get some real cold beers and get ourselves a nosh up. Then I might go for a massage.”

  “You do that, buddy, I’ll see if Stacey has landed in South Africa yet an
d get her working. She’s gonna kill me, but this plot just got a hell of a lot thicker.”

  They looked at Mr C and C nodded at them. “We go… you not want to see Ta Phrom again. Maybe Angelina Jolie is there.”

  “Ha ha ha,” laughed Rocko, slapping C on the back. “It’s so cool that some things just don’t change. Come on and I’ll shout you a beer.”

  8

  Stacey stepped out of the plane at Cape Town airport. She had recently turned forty and longed for the wanderlust experiences of her twenties. A stunning blonde with just a tinge of greying in her hair, Stacey cut a very fine figure, everything so in proportion that men of all ages still turned and watched her walk past. Having her head in computers and libraries most of her life she was still a little unsure of herself and not sure if all that attention was real. Her native home in New Zealand was a little quiet for her and she wanted to see the world again.

  She had been waiting some time. She was incredibly excited finally to be in Africa, the trip of her life and one she had saved for a number of years to get. She had even talked her mother into looking after the children for a couple of weeks and David had been nice enough to upgrade her to business class, although in the back of her mind she knew there would be a price for that. The plane had sat on the tarmac at Johannesburg for an hour as was the nature of that flight and she had almost cut a hole in the fuselage, she was so keen to get outside. Now she was and it felt good. The African sun beamed down upon her and she actually felt a natural rhythm kick in within her. It was like a coming home. She couldn’t wait to shower, change and get into the day.

  As she came through customs after picking up her luggage she thought she saw a blonde blue-eyed man staring at her, but she passed it off as just someone confusing her for their loved one. She didn’t even notice as she got in the cab that a car immediately came onto its tail and followed her all the way to her picturesque guest house in the stylish Waterkant area of Cape Town.

  In the car that followed were two athletic males both in their mid-thirties. Jack Smith drove while John Jones kept watch on all sides and ensured Jack’s timing was perfect at the lights. They did not underestimate Stacey at all.

  Of course John and Jack were not their real names. Those identities had long since been forgotten. What they signed up for was extreme wealth and what they had to do to get it was brutal, yet this was their initiation, as it had been for centuries and centuries.

  John and Jack would have fitted perfectly into Hitler’s Aryan race. Both six feet tall, blond, blue eyed and athletic, there was a certain factory production feel to them. They rarely smiled unless utilising some of their acting skills and whilst they were related distantly to those in power they knew they would never have the power, yet had been groomed for a life of privilege and wealth once they had completed certain parts of their initiation. They were trained martial artists and each had a weapon of choice, John’s being the razor, which he had last used in Kuala Lumpur to take care of the student who so let him down. That was his third kill, not many and two more than Jack, yet he was comfortable that it had gone well, successful and simple, and he had made an excellent escape.

  Of course he could have and probably should have sent Jack to do the surveillance on the stocky Middle Eastern-looking guy, yet he realised that he and Jack stood out in Asia and as such he simply had to have someone else do his work. The student’s mistake had, however, led him to go back through Leon’s connections at the bank and he recognised from Google the only man it could have been from a photo many years before. This find had kicked in their intelligence team and within an hour they knew that his name was Rocko Rizotto and along with his partner David Clark they were wealthy businesspeople, who called themselves Truthseekers. He thought of them more as mosquitos and their buzzing had become untenable.

  Stacey had been so taken with her first impressions of Cape Town that she simply didn’t notice the car following the cab. This in itself was unusual, as since she had been working for the boys she had had more than her fair share of undesirable stalkers.

  Her guesthouse in the quaint Waterkant area of Cape Town was everything it promised to be. Big soft bed, great shower, friendly staff and a view over to the Victoria & Alfred waterfront and also Robbin Island where Nelson Mandela had resided in prison from 1962 to 1990. Whilst unused to flying, the business class upgrade had helped and Stacey felt revived. She stripped off all her clothes and embraced a long hot shower, the pure African water cascading over her taut body. She lost herself in the experience of washing, shampooing, conditioning and shaving. It was times like this she loved being a woman, and with the call of Africa not far away now she rose from the shower a revived and refreshed woman ready to take on the world. She ignored her phone and iPad that she knew would have David beeping some instructions across and trying to get her to do some work for the upgrade he sponsored. Hell, she was on holiday and for all he knew, the Internet was down. South Africa’s service was intermittent at best.

  Four doors down the hill from the guesthouse the two killers sat in their nondescript sedan biding time. Their plan was clear. The security of their whole organisation had been breached. It had happened occasionally during the 1,700 years their lie had paraded the Earth. Normally it amounted to nothing, just simple people falling across something they should not have. Sometimes the individual made their findings so public that it simply had to be ignored, like when Matt Groening based his character Mr Burns on their elder statesman. The world simply thought he was a fictional character, yet Groening had captured most of the attributes perfectly. Many other times they did not even realise what it was they had found, yet with these two clowns it had been different. They knew that David and Rocko were resourced; their company even called itself, Truthseekers, a disgusting poke at some sort of noble deeds, yet they were keen and they had capacity. Already the elders had said they must be dealt with in the old way. That way was to take out an easy target, the girl… And in this case it was also their strongest link, as she was their researcher, a talented and connected individual, without whom they would not only lose focus, they would disappear.

  The instructions were not to be rash, but to deal with the woman and make it look like a tragic accident. Shooting her was not only messy, it would cause an international incident and this organisation avoided those. In fact they controlled them.

  The killers know that if they got this right, they would be well rewarded, be allowed up another level and a series of privileges would simply occur. The result of this job was their rite of passage.

  The killers had been sitting outside for around an hour. Nothing much had been happening then directly in front of them a car pulled in. It was a pick-up truck with a sign that said Cape Shark Cage Diving. Behind the wheel a blonde woman studied herself in the mirror and tidied her make up.

  Stepping from the truck she didn’t look like someone who spent a lot of time in the ocean or on boats feeding and exploring the most violent creatures of the depths. She was dressed in knee-length designer shorts, with medium heels and a black low-cut top that exposed just enough of her taut midriff that made you want more exposure. Her sky-blue steel eyes and perfect straight blonde hair sat against a tanned olive skin and perfect lips exposing always the hint of a smile. This girl was confident, beautiful, and turned heads. She marched directly into the guesthouse, ringing the bell and striding whilst smiling and admiring the day.

  “Get the listening device,” said John, the most senior of the two killers. “I know she is there to meet the girl.”

  One of the advantages of working for some of the most effective and darkest families on Earth was the technology one had access to. The device was simply the length of a small pencil, very directional being able to pinpoint an area of around 3 metres by 3 metres. It simply sent a signal to an application for a Smartphone and both assailants could listen on a headset.

  “I’m here to see Stacey Cavanagh. Has she checked in yet?” said the blonde girl.

 
; “Is she expecting you, who shall I say is here?” enquired the salivating fifty year-old at the check-in counter.

  “No. No she isn’t. Please let her know that Abbey Bec is here.”

  A few minutes later an excited Stacey was embracing the blonde girl at the door of her hotel room.

  “Wow Abbey, I wasn’t expecting a personal visit. I thought I would just see you tomorrow. I am so looking forward to doing that shark cage dive. It was just the best thing to start off my South African experience,” chortled Stacey.

  “Well you were so nice to my brother when he visited your country and was lost in your city and then you booked on the trip tomorrow, first thing. I was just at the V&A shopping and since you were just a few minutes away, I thought I would come and welcome you to South Africa. My brother would do it, but as you know, he is away on business in London and back in a few weeks. I think he’s a bit gutted with the timing, if you could excuse me being so forward.”

  Abbey was a friendly but forthright person who always spoke her mind. Stacey decided that she immediately liked this girl. She had class, as did her brother when Stacey had met him, lost and penniless after having his cards stolen on a trip to New Zealand the year before. Stacey had looked after him for a few days, and their mini romance had some life in it. She was actually quite sad when he had to return home.

  “What are you doing this evening?” Abbey offered.

  “Oh I think I will rest up. My boss is sure to be sending me some stuff to do, so I’ll have a look at that, but I might just go for a walk and have a light snack and get an early night. After all, someone is meant to be picking me up at 4.45am right?”

  “Yes, I will pick you up myself. Consider it part of the service. I just wanted to say hi, Stacey. I’ll let you get on with things…. I know it takes a while to adjust to a new situation. But be a little careful on your walk. This is Africa not New Zealand. Have your wits about you.” Abbey smiled and gave Stacey a hug.