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Chapter 75 - CHAPTER 74

 

 

AN HOUR LATER, ANTÔNIA found Evans sitting at the hotel bar, holding a reddish cigarillo in one hand and the evening's infallible gin and tonic in the other. She decided to sit next to him. There weren't many customers around yet. She saw only a couple chatting and drinking wine, and an old man leisurely sipping a cup of coffee.

— Would you like me for a drink? — he asked as he arrived, taking one of the free seats.

When he turned around, Gregory Evans saw that she had exchanged her stylish businesswoman's attire for something more sporty. Seeing her in tight jeans and a low-cut blouse, with a suggestive and evident cleavage of her breasts, he even considered the folly of rejecting her company. The truth is, that woman's body seemed sculpted by the hands of an angel, something he hadn't truly realized until that moment. The fact that her hair was loose, instead of tied up, managed to excite his testosterone to the point where he felt wild horses gallop in his stomach.

If it weren't for the fact that he loved Alissa more than he'd like, he might well have fallen in love with a woman as attractive, intelligent, and well-rounded as Antonia and Geovanna. Perhaps if he'd met her at another time and place...

— The same? — he asked, raising his glass.

— Bourbon, please.

Gregory Evans waved his hand at the waiter.

— You'll have a Four Roses — I told her immediately. — For me, another Tanqueray gin and tonic.

After bringing the drinks, the waiter walked away to serve the new customers who were arriving.

— Where's Nicolas? — She wondered why the lawyer had left her alone. She could see from a distance that he was drooling over her.

— He preferred to rest — the cryptographer replied, after sipping her whiskey with a complacent gesture. The truth is, it was an exhausting day.

— What really worries me is not knowing where that damned bricklayer's madness will lead us or what will happen to our lives from now on — he said, looking into her eyes intensely.

Antonia agreed, silently.

— I suppose it must be hard to lose the person you love — he murmured finally.

— You talk about her as if she were dead.

— I'd be lying if I said I still hope the kidnappers will be benevolent and release them safe and sound, unless it's to demand something in return.

— The content for their lives? That made sense.

— Perhaps they fear their secret will come to light, or perhaps they need something to decipher the hieroglyphics. Either way, they won't go down into the crypt again. It would be quite risky to try again, as there's a chance they'll encounter the police there. Therefore, I don't rule out the possibility of an exchange of hostages for information. —

— Tell me something, Antonia... have you ever heard of The Widow's Sons before?

— If you want to know if I'm prepared to face the challenge, I'll tell you that I know every secret of alchemy, Freemasonry, and the symbolic language of characters. I've delved deeply into the most obscure books of medieval magic and esotericism, and I was the first woman to present a coherent theory about the meaning of the philosopher's stone. And I've also provided the likely authentic interpretation of the Voynich Manuscript. I'm not afraid of a fraternity of builders who claim to know the mysteries of God, but rather of knowing that they are the only ones who can use them. In any case, and to answer your question... yes, I know them. —

A young woman with dark, curly hair sat behind Antonia. Gregory Evans noticed her tiny red glasses and the braces she wore in her mouth, one of those corrective devices sometimes implanted in teenagers. These accessories distorted the features of her magical face.

— Umbert told me about Hiram Abif and his relationship with the Queen of Sheba... — Greg forgot about the girl, continuing to talk about the alleged criminals. — What's true in this story?

— No one knows — she replied, turning her head to the side. — Some say Balkis's son was Solomon's, others say he was the master of Tyre's, but the truth is that, from one or the other, his descendants adopted the name The Widow's Sons, heirs to a universal secret related to the Temple of Jerusalem and the mysteries of its construction. Above all, however, they are the guardians of the Ark of the Covenant.

— Monroe shares the same opinion — he acknowledged. — In fact, he's convinced that it was once hidden somewhere in the province and later deposited beneath the Velez chapel. Well, we discussed this recently when we were discussing Nostradamus's quatrain.

Antonia looked at him, intrigued. It was the first time she had heard of anything like it.

— Can you explain to me what this is about?

Gregory Evans agreed to tell her everything he knew about it, from Viana's notes on the encrypted document to the double meaning of the French astronomer's quatrain, the anathema written on the wall, the night Viana was murdered, and the punishment inflicted on the stonemason. Antonia found it surprising that he mentioned the chains and the sculptor's terrible end. She knew the Toledo manuscript by heart, but she had never considered that Murcia Cathedral was the central axis of the whole story.

— Tell me about this friend of yours, the architect — he insisted. — How does he know so deeply about the lives and customs of medieval builders?

— I suppose for purely professional reasons... — he commented, before shrugging. — Architecture is closely related to the work of the ancient Freemason.

— However, according to you yourself, he devoted many years to studying the lodge. And he did so in depth, since not everyone knows by heart the Masonic articles enumerated in the Cooke Manuscript.

— It's not surprising, if one is interested in history. And the truth is, Monroe seems to find great satisfaction in delving into the mysteries surrounding the Ark of the Testimony, the Templars, and the Freemasons. He even believes that Santomera's name comes from the fact that one of the Temple's founders, Godfrey of Saint-Omer, brought the relic with him from the Holy Land.

— Okay... — A furtive grimace crossed the cryptographer's beautiful face. — And where do you think she is now?

— How do you expect me to know? — the American detective gave a cartoonish smile. — According to Umbert, it should be hidden in the City of Enoch. I think this man remains obsessed with something archaeologists have been searching for for centuries.

— And you say he's Geovanna's uncle? — she asked again, but with some skepticism.

— Not just Geovanna, but my wife's as well. She used to live in Barcelona, but years ago she left her job to settle in the property you saw this morning... — It was then that he noticed she was more interested in the architect's life than in the possibility of meeting him. — May I ask why you're so interested in Umbert?

— Just curious. — He changed his attitude, watching the customers who were beginning to enter the restaurant's booth, until he exclaimed with affected joviality: — Very well, Greg! I'd better invite you to dinner, if your Iberian pride can handle such a thing.

He began to laugh, getting down from the high stool to gallantly give her his arm.

— It would be a pleasure, as long as you're willing to tell me, over dinner, how you decided to study archaeology. It's easier for me to accept your invitation if I have enough trust in you... — He smiled. — I'll warn you, however, that this won't stop us from going back to Santomera tomorrow in search of Geovanna and her uncle.

— Wow! And here I was thinking you could forget about her for a bit and flirt with me. — This time it was Antonia who laughed at her own joke.

They walked together to one of the restaurant tables, chatting amicably, without paying attention to anything else but themselves.

The young woman with glasses and braces, standing behind Antônia, asked the waiter for the bill, who wasn't surprised by her German accent. Murcia, due to its warm Mediterranean climate, was full of tourists living in the prolific urban developments built along the coast. That autonomous region was polluted by foreigners arriving from all over Europe.

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