Chapter Twelve
There shall not be found among you anyone who makes his son or his daughter pass through the fire, or one who practices witchcraft, or a soothsayer, or one who interprets omens, or a sorcerer
Deuteronomy 18:10
Silas' journey would prove to be far less melodramatic. He picked up the car without any problem, hiding his pale hair and eyes under his hooded pullover and sunglasses. As had happened so many times before, no-one questioned his false identification.
After filling up just outside of London, he followed the map to Midlothian. The entire trip took eight hours with Silas stopping just once for half an hour to eat his sandwich and drink a hot drink he picked up from another service station. He was wise enough to drive away from the service station and eat in the car. It was not safe for him to stay in one place very long.
Before the sun came up, he was able to check into a Motel in Midlothian just outside of Roslin. He knew that villages were small places and even casual tourists would be noticed. It would not be smart to stay in Roslin itself.
Before checking in, he had picked up some food for that day from yet another service station. He didn't want to have to make any kind of appearance during the day in order to eat. He filled up the car again too. He wanted to ensure he would be able to make a fast getaway if need be.
One in his motel room, he took his medication with a muffin and coffee. Within half an hour, he was asleep.
He woke up again as the sun was going down. He cautiously moved his injured shoulder. It seemed to be okay. He would change the dressings later that night. Perhaps he should take his evening medication then too. He was beginning to get the feeling that it made him groggy. That was the last thing he needed now.
He ate the sandwich and drank the juice he had bought earlier. He could feel his adrenalin rising although he felt quite calm. He was in his comfort zone with this kind of thing but it did require his senses to be very sharp. The adrenalin would help with that.
He had already made a plan but he would have to work quickly.
As dusk fell, Silas pulled his hood over head, put on his coat and gloves, and quietly let himself out of his room. Getting into the car, he drove the short distance to the outskirts of Roslin. Using the map to guide him, he continued on to the Rosslyn Chapel but parked the car far enough away so that anyone near to the church would not be able to see it.
Staying within the shadows, Silas made his way to the Church. If the Priory were going to meet anywhere, it was sure to be here. The Priory had been Silas' life for so long that he was sure he would recognize them. He had murdered four of their Guardians, after all.
A vigil service was currently underway in the Chapel and from the shadows of the Chapel's outer walls, Silas could hear the Order of Mass floating out to him on the early evening air. He silently mouthed the prayers along with the congregation. It had been over a week since he last took communion too but it was far too risky for him to enter the Chapel itself.
He waited outside in the chilly air until the Mass was over and the cars parked in the carpark on the other side of the Chapel had gone. People didn't linger long, chased home by the dark and cold once outside.
Before the priest could lock up the Chapel, Silas crept inside as silent as a shadow and hid in an alcove. The priest was lax and didn't check the Chapel thoroughly before locking up. That was common in Silas' experience of slipping in and out places he wasn't supposed to be. People did not expect others to want to hide or stay in places like this.
Once the doors were locked, the only lights were few and dim. Silas wasn't spooked. He loved churches. He felt at peace in them, one of the few places in the world that he did. He hunkered down in a shadowy corner to wait. Patience in these situations was once of Silas' strong points.
To Silas' own surprise, he didn't have to wait too long. At approximately 9pm, he began to hear the sound of car engines in the carpark. Then he heard the doors of the Chapel reopen and the sound of hushed voices.
From his vantage point on one side of the altar, he could see a group of approximately twenty people trail into the Chapel in ones and twos. They were all wearing long, dark robes over their regular clothes. It looked to Silas both theatrical and unnecessarily melodramatic. A few of them peeled off from the others and went down a flight of stairs to the right of the altar.
A few minutes later they came back carrying what looked like a very old, heavy book. It was large enough to be a medieval illuminated manuscript.
They all gathered at the front of the Church, close enough to the altar for Silas to overhear every word from his hiding spot.
"Friends, tonight we will celebrate the return of the true Merovingian Princess – Sophie St Clair," an elderly woman said with evident pride and joy, gesturing to a small figure in the group. Silas recognized Sophie immediately. He hadn't seen her at first because she too was wearing a dark robe.
The people clapped enthusiastically.
"Tonight, we will reinstitute an old ceremony that we have been unable to celebrate without true Merovingian royalty among us," she continued. "But before that, let us feast!"
Silas' ears pricked up. He had enough sleeping drug with him to fell a horse. If there were going to all be eating together, it would make it that much easier to administer it. He didn't care if they all got some. The most important thing was that Sophie had it.
The group wandered outside and began setting up a portable BBQ in the grounds near the Chapel. Silas cautiously followed them, leaving the Chapel by the opposite side and gradually creeping around to hide just around the corner from them.
Once the food was set out, they broke off into groups and wondered away chatting while the fire burnt down enough to allow for cooking the meat.
They had large thermos of hot drinks, probably coffee. Silas darted out of the shadows long enough to take one. Calculating roughly how many cups the thermos held, he added the sleeping drug proportionately, erring on the side of too much rather than too little. When no-one was looking, he put it back and took a second one and carried out the same operation again.
In the end, he managed to put drugs in each of the five large thermos. It was astonishing how little people noticed, how easy it was to accomplish things right under your enemies' noses, Silas thought and not for the first time. People only saw what they expected to see, generally.
His work here was done. He was not interested in watching the Priory's pathetic rituals.
Slipping away in the night, Silas went back to his car. Now all he needed to do was go back to Sophie's grandmother's house and wait. He had found the address with absurd ease on the internet. There were a few Saunieres in Roslin but only one with her late husband's first initial 'J'. She had not yet changed the telephone directory listing.
It would feel strange to go to the home of one of his victim's widows, Silas pondered as he drove there. In the main, he felt very little about it – just a sense of oddness. He had never expected to go there.
It was not until nearly 2am that Sophie and her grandmother returned to the house. Silas was hiding in their small garden, having already broken into the house and located the room Sophie was using so he could identify the window from outside.
He saw her light go out at roughly 2.30am and waited another hour to make sure she was in a deep sleep. In the blackest part of the morning when it was so quiet that Silas could hear his own breathing, he crept to the window ledge and pushed open the window. It had been locked on his earlier reconnaissance and he had discreetly unlocked the windows but left them shut. Sophie had not bothered to check them before she went to bed. Sophie also had no reason to believe that anybody was after her anymore, so why would she be cautious? Even now, all Silas wanted was hair samples, not her life.
After slipping silently into the room, Silas looked down at her sleeping face. The moonlight shone through the window and highlighted one side of her profile. Here was another woman he once would have found very physically attractive but just the sight of her now made gall rise into his throat. This woman had slapped his face viciously when he had been unable to defend himself and then told him he would burn in hell for murdering her grandfather – as though he hadn't known that.
Although he had gotten his revenge later in a small way, he wasn't proud of losing his temper and pushing her around. Her bones had felt so fragile when he'd held a knife to her throat. He had behaved like a bully and a lout, not a man of God. Still, he disliked her immensely. She was the focal point of the Priory's evil activities whether it was her fault they considered her Merovingian royalty or not.
Silas took one of the small plastic bags out of his pocket and with the tweezers carefully separated a single strand of Sophie's dark hair from the rest. The moonlight was bright enough so that he didn't have to use the small penlight torch he had bought at one of the petrol stations. He tugged gently and the hair came out quite easily. Sennett had cautioned him to get the hair root as well as the hair itself. It was no use just cutting a chunk of her hair. They needed the hair root for DNA too. He didn't dare do more than one hair at a time in case the pain woke her up despite the drugs.
After he had taken about twenty hairs, one by one, he sealed the bag and backed slowly out of the room. He hoped it was the last time he would ever see Sophie Neveu again.
He walked back to where he had parked the car out of the sight of any nearby houses and drove back to the motel. It was just after 4am Sunday morning. He would have to spend Sunday locked away in the motel room and drive back Sunday night. He could not risk being seen by day.
Silas slept all the next day, having changed the bandages he could reach as best he could and having finally taken his medication before going to sleep. He was hungry by the time he woke up and realized that he had not eaten for roughly 24 hours. He would have to stop at a petrol station as soon as he dared after leaving Midlothian to get food. Being light-headed was not wise at this point.
He paid his motel bill and left the district at around 6pm when darkness had already completely fallen. He anticipated getting back to Kensington in the early hours of the morning.
Nothing seemed out of place as he left the district. There were no Police cars around. He doubted anyone in the Priory would ever realize they had been mildly drugged and that Sophie's room at her grandmother's house had been broken into. After all, what had he stolen but something that Sophie was never likely to miss?
When Silas got in, the flat was dark apart from a lamp on the table.
"Good, you're back! I was starting to get worried that you had been spotted," Sennett said, coming out of her room yawning in her dressing gown, "I got in late this afternoon."
Silas felt a bit affronted. He was a professional at getting in and out of tight spots, after all. Still, he was secretly rather glad someone was worried about him. Bishop Aringarosa and the Teacher used to check in on him too, after a mission, but that was usually to get a report on what happened more than worry about whether some evil had befallen him.
"Hey, look at this," Sennett said, still bleary eyed. She went and opened the bag she had taken to Paris with her and pulled out a plastic pouch. Inside it was two very old looking, small, brown bones. "If the Priory is right, these belong to Magdalene," she said matter-of-factly.
Silas stared silently at the contents of the packet. He felt strangely awed to be looking at the bones of a person who knew Christ when He walked the Earth.
"This is the whole basis of their argument," Sennett said, still holding up the bag, "If the DNA doesn't match Sophie's then we know they are deluded or frauds or both."
"How did you get it?" Silas asked in wonder. He knew that with a great deal of planning and probably some murder along the way too, he could have obtained the same samples but he was still impressed with how quickly and neatly Sennett had penetrated the Louvre and walked off with part of arguably its most valuable treasure.
"I have family scattered in useful places," Sennett said with a wink.
That was not something that Silas understood. He had lost his own family so young and it had been such a chaotic, damaging environment that Silas had no comprehension of the advantages that family could bring at all.
"A member of your family helped you?" he asked blankly.
"Yes, my cousin Philippe. We have been close since we were children. When I say close, I mean we used to bath together when we were really tiny. We spent long summers together with our other cousins too but he and I were always especially fond of each other," Sennett said, going through to the kitchen to put the kettle on.
Silas contemplated this picture Sennett had painted. He had not had cousins to play with over summer break. His father had been an only child and his mother had left her family behind in Ireland to marry his father. Silas had the vague idea that his mother's family hadn't approved of the marriage and so his mother didn't stay in contact with them.
After Silas' mother had been murdered by his father and he then had killed his father, he had run away. He had no connection with his mother's family at all now. He wasn't even sure how to go about trying to find them. After the life he'd led, he was reluctant to even try.
Sennett came out of the kitchen with a pot of tea and some sandwiches. Silas' stomach growled. The meat pie and sandwich he'd had on the road seemed like a long time ago now.
"How did you go?" she asked, breathing in the fragrance of the tea appreciatively.
Silas opened his backpack and pulled out the bag of Sophie's dark hairs, showing it to Sennett silently.
"We're Go for Launch then," Sennett said with a pleased smile.