Raymond Khoury - The Templar Salvation
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- Book:The Templar Salvation
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- Publisher:Dutton Adult
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- Year:2010
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The Templar Salvation: summary, description and annotation
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At last, the book more than a million fans are waiting for: the sequel to The Last Templar. With its iconic title and unmistakable cover, Raymond Khourys million-copy- selling The Last Templar remains one of the most memorable thriller publications of the last decade. Finally, after four long years, Khoury returns to the world of the Templars with The Templar Salvation, a sequel thats every bit as eye-popping and as gripping as its predecessor. Constantinople, 1203: As the rapacious armies of the Fourth Crusade lay siege to the city, a secretive band of Templars infiltrate the imperial library. Their target: a cache of documents that must not be allowed to fall into the hands of the Doge of Venice. They escape with three heavy chests, filled with explosive secrets that these men will not live long enough to learn. Vatican City, present day: FBI agent Sean Reilly infiltrates the Popes massive Vatican Secret Archives of the Inquisition. No one but the Popes trusted secondi get in-but Reilly has earned the Vaticans trust, a trust he has no choice but to violate. His love, Tess Chaykin, has been kidnapped; the key to her freedom lays in this underground tomb, in the form of a document known as the Fondo Templari, a secret history of the infamous Templars... With his trademark blend of incendiary history and edge-of-your-seat suspense, Raymond Khourys The Templar Salvation marks a triumphant return to the rich territory that launched his bestselling career.
Raymond Khoury: author's other books
Who wrote The Templar Salvation? Find out the surname, the name of the author of the book and a list of all author's works by series.
Sanford Holst
Tim Wallace-Murphy
Templars
Barbara Frale
Robert Ferguson
Sinclair Henry
Evelyn Lord
Raymond Khoury
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My thanks to all the friends and colleaguesBashar, Nic, Carlos, Ben, Jon, Brian, Claire, Susan, Eugenie, Jay, Raffaella, and everyone at Dutton, NAL, and Orionwithout whom my efforts would be nothing more than pixels on the screen of my laptop. Thanks also to the Burstons, Joorises, and Chalabis for lending me their secluded homes (and sailboat), where said efforts could flourish without too many distractions.
Bigger thanks, though, this time around, are due to all the friends and family who helped us through this less-than-memorable time. There are far too many of you to mention, but you all know who you are and were very fortunate to have you in our lives. Your friendship, help, and support has been phenomenal, and if anyone deserves to be thanked for making this book possible, its you.
Chapter 1
ISTANBUL,TURKEY
PRESENT DAY
Salam, Professor. Ayah vaght darid keh ba man sohbat bo konid? Behrouz Sharafi stopped and turned, surprised. The stranger whod called out to hima darkly handsome, elegant man, mid to late thirties, tall and slim, black gelled-back hair, charcoal roll-neck under a dark suitwas leaning against a parked car. The man flicked him a small wave from a folded newspaper in his hand, confirming the professors uncertain gaze. Behrouz adjusted his glasses and regarded the man. He was pretty sure hed never met him, but the stranger was clearly a fellow Iranianhis Farsi accent was perfect. Which was unexpected. Behrouz hadnt met a lot of Iranians since arriving in Istanbul just over a year ago.
The professor hesitated, then, egged on by the strangers expectant and inviting look, took a few steps toward him. It was a mild early evening, and the square outside the university was winding down from its daily bustle.
Im sorry, have we
No, we havent met, the stranger confirmed as he extended an inviting arm out, shepherding the professor to the passenger car door hed just opened for him.
Behrouz stopped, tense with a sudden, crippling unease. Being in Istanbul had been, up to that very instant, a liberating experience. With each passing day, the looking-over-your-shoulder, worrying-about-what-you-said tensions of daily life as a Sufi professor at Tehran University had withered away. Far from the political struggles that were strangling academia in Iran, the forty-seven-year-old historian had been enjoying his new life in a country that was less insular and less dangerous, a country that was hoping to join the European Union. A stranger in a dark suit inviting him to take a ride had obliterated that little pipe dream in a heartbeat.
The professor raised his hands, open-palmed. Im sorry, I dont know who you are and this
Again, the stranger interrupted him with the same courteous, non-threatening tone. Please, Professor. I apologize for this rather sudden approach, but I do need to have a word with you. Its about your wife and your daughter. They could be in danger.
Behrouz felt twin spikes of fear and anger inside him. My wife andWhat about them? What are you talking about?
Please, the man said without a trace of alarm in his voice. Everything will be fine. But we really need to talk.
Behrouz glanced left and right, not quite able to focus. Apart from the bloodcurdling conversation he was having, everything else seemed normal. A normality that, he knew, would be banished from his life from here on.
He climbed into the car. Even though it was a new, top-of-the-line BMW, it had an odd, unpleasant smell that immediately pricked his nostrils. He couldnt quite place it as the stranger got in behind the wheel and pulled out into the sparse traffic.
Behrouz couldnt contain himself. Whats happened? What do you mean, they might be in danger? What kind of danger?
The stranger kept his gaze straight. Actually, its not just them. Its all three of you.
The even, unflustered way he said it made it sound even more unnerving.
The stranger slid a sideways glance at him. It has to do with your work. Or more specifically, with something you recently found.
Something I found? Behrouzs mind skidded for a beat, then latched onto what the man meant. The letter?
The stranger nodded. Youve been trying to understand what it refers to, but so far, without success.
It was a statement, not a question, and said with a firm assurance that made it all the more ominous. The stranger not only knew about it, he seemed to know about the walls Behrouz was hitting in his research.
Behrouz fidgeted with his glasses. How do you know about that?
Please, Professor. I make it my business to know everything about anything that piques my curiosity. And your find has piqued my curiosity. A lot. And in the same way that youre meticulous about your work and your researchadmirably so, I must addIm just as meticulous about mine. Some might even say fanatical. So, yes, I know about what youve been doing. Where youve been. Who youve spoken to. I know what youve been able to deduce, and what still eludes you. And I know a lot more. Peripheral things. Things like Miss Deborah being your little Farnazs favorite teacher at school. Like knowing your wifes prepared you some gheimeh bademjan for dinner. He paused, then added, Which is really sweet of her, given that you only asked her for it last night. But then, she was in a vulnerable position, wasnt she?
Behrouz felt the last vestiges of life drain from his face as panic flooded through him. How can heHes watching us, listening to us? In our bedroom? It took him a moment to regain control of his body long enough to eke out a few words.
What do you want from me?
The same thing you want, Professor. I want to find it. The trove that the letter refers to. I want it.
Behrouzs mind was drowning in a sinkhole of unreality. He struggled to sound coherent. Im trying to find it, butits like you said. Im having trouble figuring it out.
The stranger turned to face him only briefly, but his hard stare felt like a physical blow. You have to try harder, he told Behrouz. Facing forward again, he added, You have to try as if your life depended on it. Which, in this case, it does.
He swerved off the main road and turned into a narrow street that was lined with shuttered storefronts, where he pulled over. Behrouz gave the surroundings a quick scan. There was no one around, and no lights from the buildings above the shops.
The stranger hit the start/stop button to kill the engine and turned to face Behrouz.
I need you to know that Im serious about this, he told him, still with the infuriatingly smooth tone. I need you to understand that its very, very important to me that you do everything possibleeverythingto complete your work. I need you to fully grasp how crucial it is to your well-being, and to that of your wife and daughter, that you devote all your time and energy to this matter, that you dig deep into any untapped resources inside you and figure this thing out for me. From this point onwards, you should be thinking about nothing else. Nothing.
He paused to let his words sink in. At the same time, he added, I also need to make sure you understand that acting on any silly fantasies you might have about going to the police for help would be, frankly, catastrophic. Its vital that you understand this. We could walk into a police station together right now and I guarantee you the only one of us who would suffer any consequences would be youand they would be, again, catastrophic. I need to convince you of this. I need you to have absolutely no doubt about what Im prepared to do, what Im capable of doing, and how far Im prepared to go, to make sure that you do this for me.
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