March 11, 2000
Saturday, 10:14 a.m.
Rome, Italy
With a sense of trepidation, Mario approached the address inscribed on the card: the Trinity Bank of Italy. He double-checked the address on the card, then lifted his gaze up to the bank’s imposing edifice. This must be it, he thought. He ventured inside, his eyes meeting the greeter stationed in the grand lobby.
“May I assist you, Father?” asked the man clad in a meticulously tailored double-breasted blue Italian suit, crisp white shirt, and vibrant red tie. His name tag read: Xavier, Greeter.
“I’m not entirely sure. I was given this card with instructions to come here.” Mario presented the card to the impeccably dressed greeter.
Xavier scrutinized the card. “Ah, yes. We’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival.” He returned the card to Mario and said with a voice laced with intrigue, “Please, accompany me.” With a swift pivot, he began to navigate towards the bank vault, bypassing the tellers with an air of authority.
Mario hesitated, his feet cemented to the polished marble floor. The cryptic card had cautioned him to trust no one until he reached this destination. Was he expected to place his trust in the hands of the individuals at this bank?
Observing Mario’s hesitation, Xavier retraced his steps. He leaned in, his voice barely above a whisper. “We’re privy to the incident involving your twin.” His gaze was unflinching, piercing into Mario’s soul. “Please, allow me to guide you to a secure location.”
Mario was taken aback by Xavier’s revelation. How was he aware of the events that had unfolded merely an hour ago? Who could have even witnessed them? The assassin had gunned down the only other souls around.
With his options dwindling and his twin’s sacrifice still fresh on his mind, Mario decided to follow his instincts and trust this individual. Xavier again gestured for him to follow, so he did. Mario was led through a gated area into a restricted zone. As they approached the vault, Xavier swung open the imposing steel door, ushering Mario inside. Once within the confines of the vault, Xavier secured the door, effectively locking them in. He turned to face Mario. “Mario, our primary objective is your safety.”
“How do you know my name?”
“We’ve had you under surveillance for several weeks now. I’m here to escort you to a more secure location where you’ll be safe.”
Xavier’s gaze shifted to the safe deposit boxes that lined the room from floor to ceiling. He reached for a box at eye level, numbered 1013, and pressed the two keyholes. Suddenly, the room began to descend. The bank vault, adorned with genuine safe deposit boxes, was in fact an elevator.
Mario’s heart pounded in his chest as the vault continued its descent. “Where are you taking me?”
“To our secure subterranean facility.”
When the vault-elevator came to a halt, Xavier swung open the door to reveal an underground area that resembled a professional office space. It was akin to a floor in a high-rise building, minus the windows. Mario stepped out, taking in the expansive area. A man in a finely tailored brown suit strode past with folder in hand, heading towards a meeting down the hall. Another man, also in a suit, moved in the opposite direction to a boardroom meeting. Inside the boardroom, Mario could see four men huddled over a large blueprint, engaged in a heated discussion. They glanced up as Mario exited the elevator; their expressions suggested they were familiar with his identity.
A man of impeccable taste approached Mario. He was exquisitely dressed in his single-breasted dark grey suit, crisp white shirt, and red tie, a testament to the Templar’s refined dress code. His hair was slicked back, and his Italian shoes gleamed under the office lights. “Mario, we’ve been eagerly awaiting your arrival,” the man said, extending his hand in a welcoming gesture. The bold red letters on his white nametag identified him as Dominic.
Eyeing the nametag, Mario replied, “Why am I here?”
Dominic nodded to Xavier, silently signaling that he would take over from here. Xavier retreated into the vault, closing the door behind him before it began its ascent back to street level.
“Follow me, I’ll explain everything,” Dominic gestured, his arm sweeping down the hallway towards his office. Mario, his curiosity piqued, followed Dominic’s lead. Stepping into the office, Mario was greeted by a visual feast of thirteenth-and-fourteenth-century battle scenes. Knights in full regalia atop their steeds, swords drawn, dominated the paintings. A flag bearing a red cross on a white background fluttered in the breeze, held aloft by another knight. Dark-brown bookcases filled to the brim with tomes lined an entire wall.
Dominic circled his desk and sank into his high-backed leather chair. “Please, take a seat.”
Mario complied, settling into the leather chair opposite Dominic’s.
“Mario, I understand you must have a myriad of questions. This morning has been quite eventful for you.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Mario retorted, Roberto’s sarcasm echoing in his voice.
“We’ve had our eyes on you for several weeks now.”
“Xavier mentioned that. But why? What have I done?” Mario leaned forward, his anticipation palpable.
“Perhaps it would be best if I start by explaining who we are.”
Mario listened, his mind a whirl of confusion and curiosity.
“We are the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ. You may know us as the Knights Templar.”
Mario’s eyes bulged in disbelief. Lore had it that the Templars had been annihilated in 1307 by King Philip IV. “I was under the impression you were all extinct.”
“Quite the contrary. As you can witness, we are very much alive.”
“But how is that possible?”
“King Philip IV orchestrated a mass execution of our brethren. Under the most gruesome torture, our forefathers confessed to heinous acts they never committed.” Dominic’s voice dipped into a mournful tone as he recalled the dreadful day King Philip IV seized his ancestors. They were subjected to brutal torture and forced to confess to fabricated charges of heresy, homosexuality, devil worship, spitting on the cross, fraud, and more. After that fateful day, the surviving Templars seemingly fled Europe, disappearing into obscurity.
“I came across a scroll in the Archives stating the pope absolved the Knights of their crimes.”
“The Chinon Parchment,” said Dominic, well-versed in his history.
“That’s the one.”
“Despite that written absolution, the so-called fair King Philip continued his brutal torture and execution of our brothers.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Despite our title as the Poor Fellow-Soldiers of Christ, our ancestors amassed a fortune thanks to the numerous donations and gifts they received from those they safeguarded. We became incredibly wealthy, enabling us to lend money to those in need.”