The Key of Solomon - The Relics of the Templars Book 1: The Relics of the Templars, #1

By Lanfranco Pesci

A TEMPLAR NOVEL 

The Key of Solomon, a novel that will lead you inside the most beautiful cathedrals in Europe to discover the most important relics of Christianity.
Do not miss this precious novel, the first book of the trilogy The Relics of the Templars.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lanfranco Pesci
• Release date: Feb 23, 2024
• ISBN: 9798223322580

Book preview

Chapter 1

The small grey Lancia Y travelled along Via Emilia Est, towards Modena.

Irene had just finished analyzing some documents in her office in Bologna, in less than half an hour she was supposed to meet Professor Lunardi, in the small apartment he owned on the top floor of a building in Via Masone.

Lunardi was a professor at the Faculty of Engineering of the University of Modena, but Irene was not interested in his engineering skills as much as in the professor's vast knowledge of medieval history. In fact, after graduating in engineering he had also found time to study and earn a degree in that subject, his lifelong passion.

The traffic light was red, the car was stationary, and Irene was sorting some papers on the passenger seat, anxious to show the professor what she had just discovered. She couldn't wait to get to his house and tell him everything, from beginning to end.

She hadn't noticed that the light had turned green. As she was sorting the last sheet of paper she raised her head, just in time to recognize the silhouette of the truck, bright red, with dark windows, the impact was terrible, Irene's small car seemed to crumble under the violent fury of that giant monster. Both vehicles ended up off road, in a dirt track, they continued hurtling for twenty meters, then stopped.

The door of the truck opened and out of it came a man who was not at all shaken by what had happened. He looked at the wreckage impassively as the flames began to envelop the vehicles.

After a few seconds he turned and ran away.

Chapter 2

Professor Lunardi left the front door of his house and headed towards the small newsstand on the corner of the block.

The Corriere della Sera newspaper and the Modena Gazette, please every morning before going to the university, the professor would stop at the small bar in Via Ungaretti and catch up on the latest news about the world and his city.

‘Tragic accident yesterday afternoon on Via Emilia Est, in which a twenty-seven-year-old girl lost her life, her small Lancia Y was literally run over by a speeding truck.... the investigators assume there was a failure of the brake system. The girl's name was Irene Masetti........continue on page 7'.

The professor, shocked by what he had just read, raised his head, and looked around: in the bar were just two bartenders and a customer who was having a coffee at the counter.  He was confused, now he understood why the young lady hadn't shown up for her appointment the evening before and hadn't answered his phone calls. He couldn't believe it.

Here's your coffee and pastry, professor the bartender picked up the tray from the counter with the breakfast that her customer had ordered a few minutes before.

He kept staring at the picture of the girl on page seven of the newspaper. They had been working together for a few months on an issue concerning Modena Cathedral. The cultural heritage committee had asked for advice on potential costs to restore the church's columns and frescoes. That terrible accident, unfortunately, had put an end to their collaboration.

His face still registering his shock, he sipped his coffee. He noticed that he was almost out of breath, he felt himself freeze up, after a few seconds his vision blurred, he put his arm on the table, his head on his arm.

Oh my God! Marta, call an ambulance, the professor is sick The bartender, scared, approached the man slumped on the table; she noticed that he was no longer breathing.

The man who had been at the bar just a few minutes before had vanished into thin air.

Chapter 3

I t's already past midnight , I don't think it's right to disturb him at this hour, I'll call him in the morning. After all, I can still afford a night in a hotel thought Marco as he was getting off the intercity train that he had boarded in Florence two hours before. He found himself having to start all over again, without a job, a car or a bed to rest in.

A cool wind was blowing from the east and reminded the few people in the station that winter was just around the corner, a Hawaiian shirt and linen pants were certainly not the most suitable clothes to wear in November, but the climate in Modena was very different from the one he came from that same morning when he left Calabria. He wasn’t worried about a journey that would get him to his destination late in the evening, he didn't care.

What Marco wanted now was just a little rest, to recover from that last difficult week spent in Reggio Calabria. He had to try to forget the endless interrogations of Commissioner Mattei. It felt like he could still smell the intense odor of those Camel cigarettes that the commissioner couldn't live without.

Next to him a man and a woman were warmly embracing a girl who had just got off the same train as him. A little further on, sitting on a bench, a girl tore up her sandwich into pieces, in front of her a small terrier wagged his tail, his mouth already watering at the sight of that morsel in his mistress’s hands.

The girl looked strange; her face was melancholic but at the same time she was smiling as she played with her little friend. A spike stuck out between her lower lip and chin. Marco managed to count at least three more earrings on her right ear in addition to the small sparkling stud on the side of her nose. He was almost curious to see how many more holes she had on her left ear, but he thought maybe it wasn't right to walk around and staring at her other ear. No, it wasn't quite right.

He grabbed his duffel bag vigorously and walked toward the station exit, with a half-smile at the strange ideas in his head.

On the right, in front of the ticket office, two big guys were asking for information about the train they would have to take the next day. Marco needed a hotel. There was a bar to his left, he would ask there for information for a place to sleep. He went through the entrance, the place was deserted, a distinguished gentleman in his forties was drying some glasses behind the counter.

Good evening said Marco approaching the bar.

Good evening, how can I help you? the bartender was a bit puzzled to see a young man who looked like a tourist returning from some Pacific Island.

I need a hotel. Could you point me to one around here? Marco had noticed the bartender's gaze and wondered what the hell was wrong with a Hawaiian shirt, after all he came from a much warmer place, but the bartender was oblivious to his past. Who knows how many years he'd stood behind that counter and smirked at anyone who walked by.

Look, just cross the park across the street and head left. You'll come to a roundabout, on the road to the right you'll find all the hotels you want.

Thank you, goodbye.

With his trusty duffle bag, he crossed the park. A taxi driver asked him if he needed help, with a shake of his head he let the driver know he knew exactly what he was doing.

The pedestrian traffic light was red, Marco crossed without looking, the road was deserted, no one would notice. He walked a hundred meters to the left and found himself in front of a roundabout, just as the bartender had said. On the right there should be some hotels.

Hotel Principe, Hotel Milano, Hotel Europa', he was in the right place. Marco stopped for a moment to think, then decided to head towards the Hotel Principe, that bright yellow sign filled him with confidence.

He stood under the canopy in front of the entrance and noticed the three stars on the door. He was happy to spend a reasonable amount of money to rest for one night, but he didn't need four-star luxury.

The door opened automatically; the receptionist was sorting some papers on the counter.

Good evening, sir, welcome to the Hotel Principe.

Marco's eyes were getting weaker lately, he hoped at least to be able to do his paperwork with the receptionist. A bed was certainly more comfortable than that parquet floor.

Good evening to you, I would like a single for one night only. Do you have one available?

Certainly, I can put you up in room number 23 the receptionist showed he knew the availability of the rooms perfectly well, allocating the room without even glancing at the reservation table.

I just need a document and a signature at the bottom of this invoice

As it was already quite late the receptionist had reduced the paperwork to the bare minimum, he would take care of filling out the form using the data from the document.

Marco took his ID card out of his wallet and placed it on the counter.

Second floor on the right. This is the key.

'25......, 24......., 23........' if his eyesight didn't deceive him that had to be the room. Marco opened the door and closed it behind him. It smelled good with clean sheets and fresh towels.

Everything was there that he needed. It was time for a hot shower and some rest.

Chapter 4

The sun was already high when Marco opened his eyes. Yes, that bed was comfortable, he definitely felt better than he did the previous night. He picked up the wristwatch he had placed on the bedside table and glanced at it.

Ten thirty-two was not late, maybe he still had time to go and see Massimo. It was Sunday, and from what he remembered, Max was certainly not the type to go to bed early on Saturdays.

In front of the mirror, Marco could no longer see the dark circles under his eyes that were there the night before. This was a good sign. He put the razor back in its case and stowed it in the side pocket of his duffel bag.

Thirty-five euros, here is your document Mr. Montebardi the previous evening’s receptionist was not there, instead, there was a slightly younger one, in his thirties. He tore up the invoice and handed it to him.

Max's message said, 'via Bizet, number 21'. The last time they had spoken, he had promised that sooner or later he would visit him and spend a few evenings together just like in the olden days.

But now things were different. Marco had not told him he was coming, because the departure had been a bit sudden. The events of the last few weeks had created some confusion in his mind.

Until a few days ago, Marco had been the director of the technical office in a company that installed security systems. Every day he had to deal with dozens of people requesting sophisticated circuits to defend their wealth from theft, not to mention the many banks and jewelers that he periodically visited to check that their systems were functioning properly.

House burglaries had increased dramatically in recent times, and authorities had discovered a link between the burglaries and the alarm systems used in the burglarized homes. Most of the homes were equipped with systems installed by SAS, or Security Alarm System, the company which Marco worked for.

After several weeks of investigations, the authorities managed to catch the burglars, among them were five SAS employees, the director and some other collaborators who carried out the crimes.

The eyes of the police and carabinieri naturally fell on Marco, who was subjected to long and exhausting interrogations to prove his innocence.

Luckily, he came out of the investigation unscathed, but now, after the SAS had been forced to declare bankruptcy so that they could pay compensation to the many injured parties, he found himself without a job, without a house and without a car, privileges that had previously been generously granted to him by the company.

To start over, he decided to move to Modena, where he could count on the support of his friend Max, and where he decided to set up his own business, as he knew that in Emilia Romagna, the alarm systems market was booming. In this way he could also be closer to his family who lived in Milan, and from whom he had been estranged recently.

He had got out of the cab and was now standing in front of the black entrance gate. In front of him a woman was washing the floor of the atrium of the apartment building. To his right was a long column of plaques with the names of the tenants of the building and next to each of them was an intercom.

He stared at the column of plaques for a few moments, then his eyes fixed on one of them.

Massimo Baraldi, extension 13. The gate was wide open, and the big brown glass door had been left ajar to let air in so that the floor could dry. All he had to do was walk upstairs.

Using the elevator, he quickly reached the third floor, at the end of the corridor was the door of apartment 13.

Marco looked at the clock, it was eighteen minutes past eleven, the only way to find out if Max was home was to ring the bell and wait.

The heavy, armored door began to open, behind it appeared the silhouette of a man in his thirties. He was shirtless, wearing pajama bottoms and had an unkempt beard and shaggy hair, his eyes struggled to stay open. It looked like he had just woken up.

After almost a year and a half the two old friends were finally meeting again. They had known each other since they were just over eight years old, their families had bought houses in the same neighborhood and the two had become very good friends. They had parted ways when Max had decided to move to Bologna to study economics and Marco had gone to Rome to study electronic engineering. They met occasionally in Milan when they both went to visit their families for the holidays.

As soon as Max realized that in front of him was not some representative of an electrical appliance company but his old friend Marco, a smile spread across his face and the two greeted each other with a hug.

What the hell is an anti-theft wizard like you doing in Modena? said Max, unaware of what had happened to him.

For your information, I'm no longer a burglar alarm wizard. Last week I lost my job, my house and my car, and now I'm practically homeless. Not bad, right?

And what did you do? You didn't rob a bank, did you? Max picked up Marco's duffel bag and carried it into the living room.

I didn't rob anything, but some company employees and the manager cleaned out about ten homes, and now, to pay back the damages, the company has declared bankruptcy. It was hard, but I came out unscathed, with redundancy pay Marco closed the door and followed Max into the living room.

The apartment was huge, the ceiling was at least five meters high, the living room and reception room were in the same space. The parquet floor made it very cozy, some doors hid other rooms and at the end of the room a small set of stairs led to a corridor.

What about you? Did you rob the bank you work at to be able to afford a house like this?

Since I became the manager of the loan department, I get a lot of benefits and a good salary, in fact I'm not doing so bad. Have you had breakfast yet? I have an appointment with the bank manager at noon to talk about loans that some companies have asked me for. We'll meet for an aperitif in the cathedral square. If you don't have anything to do, I'll show you round the city.

In fact, Marco had to start from scratch and only had Max to rely on. He knew that at first, he would be in the way, but he also knew that Max would not make him feel like a burden. They knew each other well and both knew that if either of them wanted to be alone all they had to do was say so.

I'm going to go take a shower and get ready. Your room is the one down the hall. Make yourself at home.

Max you're a true friend, I'll get out of your hair as soon as I find an apartment.

Don't worry, you can stay as long as you want.

Max was the same as always, if he could do a favor for a friend he didn't think twice. He, of course, didn't want to take advantage of that, so he would stay at his place only as long as necessary. He remembered that once Max had told him about a girl, Elena that he was engaged to. He didn't know much else, but they would have plenty of time to talk.

In the meantime, he decided to explore the house and find out what those doors in the living room were hiding: a closet, a bathroom and, lastly, a room that looked like a study.

Marco was impressed by the dozens of grandfather clocks that lined the walls. Of course, they were all inactive. The ticking of all those clocks would have been unbearable. He began to observe them one by one, there were all types and sizes.

Max, meanwhile, had finished getting ready and was back in the living room. He was wearing a pair of pants, a shirt, and dress shoes.

I didn’t know you were into these things. They must have cost you a lot.

Yes, but it's just a hobby, nothing special. Now let's go or I'll be late.

They entered the elevator, heading for the garage floor. Parked in a corner there was a black Alfa 159, with alloy wheels and tinted windows. In the car Max explained the reasons why he had to meet the director and Marco told him about his recent misadventures.

They parked the car and walked towards a pedestrian area. The stores were closed and there weren't many people around. Marco took a look around, at the people, the streets, the stores, he thought about how he could use the money he had saved in those years, it was enough to be able to afford to start his own business, in the field of security of course. Max, thanks to his position in the bank, could even give him a hand with a loan.

They crossed Via Emilia and found themselves in the cathedral square. Marco kept looking around, then stopped and looked up with a slightly puzzled face.

Come on, I'm already late Max was in a hurry.

Am I hallucinating or is that steeple crooked? the cathedral steeple was visibly leaning southwest.

Of course it's crooked, it always has been and always will be, it’s nothing new Max replied wryly.

But now let's go or we'll be late.

Marco checked his appearance in the window of a bar and then followed Max to the Caffè Concerto.

Waiting for them, seated at a table, were a gentleman in his fifties and a much younger, attractive woman. Max made the introductions.

Good morning, Mr. Morelli, Ms. Fabiani. This is my friend Marco Montebardi, he arrived this morning and he will be my guest for a few days the two of them stood up very politely and shook his hand, then they sat down again.

Marco noticed that Mr. Morelli was wearing a very expensive Rolex on his left wrist. He was wearing an elegant gray suit, a light blue shirt, and a matching tie.

His attention, however, was mostly captured by Ms. Fabiani. She was a very attractive woman, wearing a black suit with a skirt that reached the knee with a deep slit on the right side. In her hands, resting on her knees, she had a brown leather folder, surely filled with bureaucratic paperwork.

Mr. Morelli and Max talked about their business for a good half hour. From what he could understand, a company from Piedmont had requested a large sum of money at a very low interest rate, offering to mortgage the entire plant. Of course, before giving an answer and establishing the terms of the contract, Max had requested a meeting with the director for permission to proceed.

In the meantime, Miss Fabiani was taking notes and making quick calculations with the help of a calculator.

Marco listened to them in silence. He observed Mr. Morelli's behavior. He was a very confident man, his calm and quiet voice made it clear that he trusted Max, that he was a respected colleague.

Mr. Morelli, Marco used to be the director of the technical department of a company that deals with security systems for public and private sectors, now he has moved here to Modena to set up his own business. Maybe he could give us a hand with our alarm system, he looked at Marco, the one in the bank is starting to cause problems, despite repeated callouts to the company that installed it. He could be hired as a consultant of the bank.

That's not a bad idea. The next time we have problems, he could come and give us his opinion.

Well Massimo, I think that's enough for today. Tomorrow, close the deal with the company and let me know of any news.

The meeting was over, there was a general handshake and the four of them walked towards the exit.

Marco, without hesitation, looked up at the cathedral bell tower. That oddity had literally captivated him, he couldn't even explain why, he was overwhelmed with curiosity.

Excuse me Miss Fabiani had bumped into Marco's shoulder.

Don't worry Miss, I'll survive.

Please, don’t be formal! My name is Paola. Earlier in the bar I saw you looked a little bored. You must not have had much fun.

Well, that’s true. But it was a business meeting, that's to be expected.

I saw you had your head in the clouds. What's so interesting about the Modenese sky? Paola asked this question somewhat wryly.

You see Miss... Paola, this is my first time in Modena, and I was very impressed that the cathedral bell tower is so visibly tilted. Yet I had never heard of it. The Tower of Pisa has become famous precisely because of its tilt.

Yes, but you really can't compare the Tower of Pisa to the cathedral bell tower, Paola clarified.

That's true, maybe the comparison is a bit exaggerated, but....do you know anything about it? Why the bell tower is like that? Marco remained bewitched by that bell tower.

Honestly, no. I've never asked myself the question. But today is Sunday, we could go in and ask the pastor for an explanation. I don't think it's a state secret why that bell tower is crooked Paola had found the solution.

Excuse me for a moment she turned away from Marco and walked towards Mr. Morelli and Max who were talking in front of the bar.

Excuse me Mr. Morelli, with your permission I'm going to walk home, Mr. Montebardi will keep me company.

Fine, I'll see you tomorrow morning at the office.

"Paola took her leave of the two and went back to Marco.

So, let's go shed some light on this mystery, Jupiter Jones she said, smiling.

The two walked across the cathedral square. In Tower Square there was an orchestra performing. It must have been Swedish, judging by the flags they were waving.

The presenter had just introduced what seemed to be the last number of the show: the Italian Anthem.

Marco and Paola were interested and stood there watching. At the end of the performance, the assembled crowd erupted in applause as the members of the orchestra began to rearrange the instruments in their cases.

Marco saw a young man say something in his mother's ear, then approach the drummer. After a few words, the man smiled and gracefully handed him the sticks, letting him take his place in front of the drums.

He performed a drum solo with such skill that he seemed at one with the instruments. The crowd that had stood by applauded enthusiastically while the young man, uncomfortable with the reaction he had caused, ran into the arms of his mother who welcomed him with satisfaction.

Paola smiled, then turned to Marco and signaled him to move on.

They crossed the small archivolt that forms the roof of the small path between the cathedral and the bell tower. There they had confirmation that the bell tower was indeed leaning. Affixed to the wall was a display case with photographs of the belltower showing that it was leaning towards the south-west, but there was no explanation for this.

Paola meanwhile had stopped in front of the small doorway that served as the entrance to the structure.

Too bad!

What happened? asked Marco interested.

Look at this.

'Torre Ghirlandina, founded in the early twelfth century and finished in 1319 by the Campionese. Opening hours on holidays only 9:30-12:30 / 15:00-19:00'.

It was open just half an hour ago, but now it's too late,

I remember when I went to university, there was a saying in the faculty that those who climbed the Ghirlandina would never graduate. Fortunately, I don't have to worry about that now, do you?

Neither do I. I graduated with a degree in electrical engineering over six years ago. I studied in Rome, then moved to Calabria to work for a security systems company.

Mr. Baraldi said you're staying as a guest in his home for a few days. May I ask why? Paola was curious to know more about him.

It’s quite simple: the company I worked for declared bankruptcy and now I find myself without a job. I came to Modena to start out on my own. I'll be staying at Max's until I find a small apartment to settle down in.

They turned the corner of the small street and found themselves in the square in front of the main entrance to the cathedral.

Well, it seems that our search stops here the entrance door of the cathedral was closed.

Marco approached a small sign that was placed next to the door. It talked about some restoration work that was to be done in the cathedral. He paid no attention to it.

If you don't mind, I'm going to walk home. It's a little late, maybe they're already waiting for me for lunch.

They're already waiting for you? Do you have a family to take care of? Marco was surprised by Paola's statement.

Yes, I have a handsome young man of fifty and a young lady of forty-seven waiting for me at home; they are my parents, they can take care of themselves just fine, but I still play the little daughter of the house.

Okay, I didn't mean to be indiscreet, I'm just a little curious, sorry.

It was nice meeting you. Maybe we'll meet again another time."

The pleasure was mine. I hope to see you again soon.

Paola walked down the narrow street, he stood for a few seconds looking at her, then she turned off onto the road home.

He returned to the cathedral square. Max and Mr. Morelli were still there talking. A few seconds passed and the two said goodbye to each other with a handshake.

Max, wait.

I see you waste no time. It's your first day here and you've already made a conquest.

Come on, nothing weird happened. We just had a little chat.

I'm not saying anything bad. Miss Fabiani is a very nice girl; I've never heard anything about her that would make me think otherwise.

Come on Max I'm not a kid anymore, we just talked.

Chapter 5

The room was dark, four large candles illuminated the corners of the room, the vault was very high, and the walls were completely covered with frescoes. The floor was made of marble, the black and white slabs alternated to form hexagonal and triangular figures, silence reigned supreme.

Eight men were seated around a circular table inlaid with solid wood. Each of them wore a long black tunic, from the hoods you could barely glimpse their faces. Their arms were laid on the table all in the same way, the right hand encircled the wrist of the left hand, the long sleeves did not allow a glimpse of anything else.

From their necks hung a medallion, a gold patented cross. Everyone was still in their seats, impassive.

A large arched doorway on one side of the room opened; a tall man wearing the same black robe and gold medallion entered. He walked very slowly. He felt the weight of age in his legs. He walked a few meters and took a seat in the chair in front of him, the one with the highest back, the only one separated a little from the others.

Brothers, I wanted to gather you here to discuss something very important. We all know that at this time our Order has awoken from the long hibernation in which it had lain for years. Some secrets were about to be violated and we had to act to prevent that from happening. Brother Gondemar will explain everything the man's voice had a strong French accent. With a wave of his hand, he pointed to another of the men who was seated at the table.

Brothers, a few months ago the cultural heritage committee of Modena entrusted an expert in medieval art with the task of making an estimate for the restoration work of part of the internal structures of Modena Cathedral. We don't know how, but Miss Irene Masetti, this was her name, had discovered some details that could put us and the secret we have kept for centuries at risk. She had enlisted the help of Professor Lunardi, an expert in medieval history who had contributed to the development of her research. The Master and I deemed it necessary to intervene and put an end to the activities of these two curious people. Unfortunately, it was not possible to recover the documents they were working on. We didn’t find anything interesting at the girl's house or at the Professor's. The documents were probably destroyed in the fire of the young lady's car.

One of the men sitting at the table stood up.

But we can't kill people on mere suspicion. The rule of the Order speaks volumes. It has to be the last resort we take if there is no other way. We can't reduce a man's life to something so trivial, brothers. Who knows better than us what a man's life is worth. We can't act like our predecessors, we are no longer in the Middle Ages, there is no longer a world war threatening our secrets.

Brother Folco, Brother Gondemar did not act individually. We made this decision after a very long meeting, in which we evaluated all possible solutions. The girl was dangerously close to discovering our secrets and there was no more time to intervene by other means. There was not even time to convene the council, we had to act quickly and that was the only possible solution the Grand Master tried to bring calm.

Master, I believe that the reason we are here is not to inform us of events that concern our brothers in Italy. There would have been no need to convene the Grand Council. What do you want to tell us? another of the eight took the floor, with a strong voice.

"Brother André, you are right. That is not the reason I wanted to bring you together. There is another reason. The events of the last few weeks have awakened our Order after many years of living in the shadows, but now things are changing. The things that have happened in Italy and those that will happen from now on must be managed by someone who still has the strength to act and the mind to coordinate activities. I wanted you here to inform you that I have decided to appoint a new Grand Master. My life is coming to an end, and I am no longer able to cope. In a week's time we will meet here again and each of you will give me your opinion on which of you should sit in my place. Then the hierarchy will be reorganized. » The Grand Master stood up, gave his blessing to all the brothers who had in the meantime bowed their heads, and went out through the door he had entered.

Chapter 6

Marco and Max were at home. Max was lying on the couch, Marco had the Gazzetta di Modena of November nineteenth in his hands. Max had a habit of leaving all the newspapers