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Authors: Mike Handcock
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guesthouse, John was already on the street standing in front of the shark diving pick-up truck pretending to write down the number on the side. Seeing Abbey approach he stood and turned toward her and switched on all the rehearsed charm from his acting lessons years before.
“Oh wow, I have always wanted to do a shark dive, but surely this can’t be your business? You are way too beautiful to be jumping in and out of the water with great whites.” He smiled a cheeky smile pursing his lip in a way he had practised for many years. The normally resilient Abbey felt herself tottering for just a second and then straightened herself.
“Let me book you in then, we have some space next week.”
“Oh no that won’t work,” replied the killer looking dejected. “We will have left the country. Can we come tomorrow morning? That would be our only chance?”
“I’m sorry that’s not possible. I decided to do a private tour for a friend of my brother’s. She is important to him, and he is not here.” Abbey stared at the man and saw his energy drop.
“Oh please, Miss, it’s just me and my brother too,” he said, nodding toward the second man in the car that Abbey couldn’t quite see. “This has been a lifelong dream of ours, we won’t disrespect your friend’s experience….And in fact whatever the cost we will pay double. Will you do it?” The man smiled and touched Abbey on the arm. It was an old connection trick used by hypnotists for years, yet although Abbey did not want the extra men on the trip, the thought of double the money was a nice bonus for her brother who wasn’t so good with making it himself. In an instant she found herself saying something entirely different.
“Well you would need to get yourself there by 5.30am, we leave from Calk Bay marina. If you can be there I will take you. Do you know where that is?”
“Yes,” said the man. Reaching into his jacket he folded out 2,000 rand and forced it into Abbey’s hand. She found herself slightly regretting the decision for an instant, although she couldn’t quite understand why.
The man shook her hand and held her door open on the steep Waterkant hill street as Abbey got in. He then got back into his own car and faced his friend.
“Tomorrow, Jack, we will be doing some shark feeding.”
9
1362 AD
Petr De Odes addressed his last day on Earth as he had every other day for the past fifty-five years since landing on the continent we now know as America. The first few weeks had been brutal. It was Christmas and the cold was bitter. He had lost his leader and best friend Bertrand St Clar in a mutinous fight with knights that he had known for years and who were under his command.
The traitors had been killed and after burying his friend he had to partake of his orders and take Chancery and run far away, to protect this charge, who was never to know who he was and his importance to the world as the one surviving bloodline of Jesus Christ and Mary Magdalene.
De Odes had to make some very difficult decisions. His group totalled thirty-three individuals. He found thisto be a very spiritual number and of course it would never be thirty-four or thirty-two. After burying the dead and before winter could grasp them any more than it had he made a decision that not only ensured the longevity of the bloodline, it won a war and created a country and yet no one in history, not even De Odes himself, would ever realise the significance of that one decision to the world. All he did was simply look at his resources, a motley, somewhat depleted group of men and women, some knights, some not, himself wounded from the arrow that had grazed and taken a chunk from his forearm, and decided he had an opportunity. That opportunity was either to dig in and last out the winter and regroup or to go. As a senior Templar, although he was still in his very early twenties, he was taught a process to check in with his intuition. On this day his intuition bent neither one way
“Oh wow, I have always wanted to do a shark dive, but surely this can’t be your business? You are way too beautiful to be jumping in and out of the water with great whites.” He smiled a cheeky smile pursing his lip in a way he had practised for many years. The normally resilient Abbey felt herself tottering for just a second and then straightened herself.
“Let me book you in then, we have some space next week.”
“Oh no that won’t work,” replied the killer looking dejected. “We will have left the country. Can we come tomorrow morning? That would be our only chance?”
“I’m sorry that’s not possible. I decided to do a private tour for a friend of my brother’s. She is important to him, and he is not here.” Abbey stared at the man and saw his energy drop.
“Oh please, Miss, it’s just me and my brother too,” he said, nodding toward the second man in the car that Abbey couldn’t quite see. “This has been a lifelong dream of ours, we won’t disrespect your friend’s experience….And in fact whatever the cost we will pay double. Will you do it?” The man smiled and touched Abbey on the arm. It was an old connection trick used by hypnotists for years, yet although Abbey did not want the extra men on the trip, the thought of double the money was a nice bonus for her brother who wasn’t so good with making it himself. In an instant she found herself saying something entirely different.
“Well you would need to get yourself there by 5.30am, we leave from Calk Bay marina. If you can be there I will take you. Do you know where that is?”
“Yes,” said the man. Reaching into his jacket he folded out 2,000 rand and forced it into Abbey’s hand. She found herself slightly regretting the decision for an instant, although she couldn’t quite understand why.
The man shook her hand and held her door open on the steep Waterkant hill street as Abbey got in. He then got back into his own car and faced his friend.
“Tomorrow, Jack, we will be doing some shark feeding.”
9
1362 AD
Petr De Odes addressed his last day on Earth as he had every other day for the past fifty-five years since landing on the continent we now know as America. The first few weeks had been brutal. It was Christmas and the cold was bitter. He had lost his leader and best friend Bertrand St Clar in a mutinous fight with knights that he had known for years and who were under his command.
The traitors had been killed and after burying his friend he had to partake of his orders and take Chancery and run far away, to protect this charge, who was never to know who he was and his importance to the world as the one surviving bloodline of Jesus Christ and Mary Magdalene.
De Odes had to make some very difficult decisions. His group totalled thirty-three individuals. He found thisto be a very spiritual number and of course it would never be thirty-four or thirty-two. After burying the dead and before winter could grasp them any more than it had he made a decision that not only ensured the longevity of the bloodline, it won a war and created a country and yet no one in history, not even De Odes himself, would ever realise the significance of that one decision to the world. All he did was simply look at his resources, a motley, somewhat depleted group of men and women, some knights, some not, himself wounded from the arrow that had grazed and taken a chunk from his forearm, and decided he had an opportunity. That opportunity was either to dig in and last out the winter and regroup or to go. As a senior Templar, although he was still in his very early twenties, he was taught a process to check in with his intuition. On this day his intuition bent neither one way
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