The Last Judgement

by The Last Judgement (retail) (epub)

  ‘Good to see you, David, and thanks for seeing me at such short notice. Can I come in?’

  Carter turned his gaze to the brown-paper pastry bag and large coffee that were being extended towards him.

  ‘Beware of Greeks bearing gifts,’ Carter grumbled loudly through bloodshot eyes.

  ‘I was born in Belfast,’ Harker replied with an amused smile, remembering Carter’s offbeat sense of humour.

  ‘Well that means you can come in, then, can’t you?’ Carter reached over and snatched the offerings from Harker’s outstretched hand and, with a beckoning nod, he headed back inside.

  The house looked in a cleaner state than Harker remembered, which wasn’t saying much, and the living room he was led into, although not spacious, was large enough to act as a leisure area and study, with a green felt sofa and TV set alongside a wooden desk piled high with philosophy and history books related to everything from Nietzsche to the medieval feudal system.

  ‘It’s the cleaner’s day off,’ Carter quipped as he placed Harker’s consumable offerings on the table, before grabbing a half-empty bottle of Glenfiddich whisky from the sideboard. ‘Although it’s possible she’s buried somewhere underneath all this shit.’

  With a chuckle Harker sat down as Carter unscrewed the bottle cap before administering a generous dose of Scotch to his steaming espresso.

  ‘Nothing better than an Irish coffee and a slice of cake to wake you up,’ Carter said after taking a sip from the cardboard coffee cup and joining him on the sofa. ‘So, to what do I owe this visit at such a pain-in-the-arse time of day?’

  Before Harker could respond, Carter picked up the whisky bottle again and waved it in front of him. ‘Fancy a nip before we get started?’

  ‘Considering the night I’ve had, I’m tempted, but no thanks.’

  ‘Oh, go on,’ Carter pressed him. ‘Allow me the small indulgence of feeling that for once my rampant alcoholism is normal.’

  Carter’s candour made Harker laugh out loud. ‘Yeah, go on, then.’

  Harker’s assent garnered a contented smile from his host, who jumped up, plucked a small tumbler from the desk top, and then poured a quarter measure before passing it to Harker, who took a sip. He forced down the brown liquid and stifled the urge to choke. He had never been much of a whisky drinker.

  ‘You don’t have any vodka, do you?’

  ‘Please, Alex, I’m a respectable man,’ Carter growled, placing the whisky bottle back on the coffee table. ‘Right, we can get started now. So, once again, what the hell are you doing here?’

  ‘I need your help,’ Harker explained, pausing to force another sip from his whisky glass, ‘and when it comes to my problem you’re the most knowledgeable person I know.’

  Carter stared at him blankly for a few moments, then a smirk creased his lips. ‘Bollocks, Alex, you know me. Why really?’

  Harker had forgotten how blunt Carter liked things, and now he himself was smirking. ‘Fine, because you’re the only person I know here in Berlin – besides which, I think you could help. This problem I have is right up your alley.’

  ‘Now that’s more like it. You know how I feel about pleasantries and bullshit. Give me raw honesty any day of the week.’

  ‘OK,’ Harker conceded, pulling the thick, folded piece of vellum from his inner jacket pocket and unfolding it on the table top. The size of it was impressive, at almost a metre in length and half a metre wide, and it was filled with intricate text inscribed in black ink that had faded with age.

  ‘As you can see, most of it’s in Latin,’ Harker continued, having taken some time to read through it while he was locked up earlier at the police station, ‘but these sections here are not in any language I recognize.’

  He pointed to the relevant paragraphs as Carter slipped on a pair of black-rimmed glasses and began to study the text for himself.

  ‘These parts you mention look like they’ve been written by a different person,’ he offered eventually, pointing to the same paragraphs.

  ‘That was my conclusion too.’

  Harker sat back and watched as Carter now pored over the massive document with fascination. After a few minutes of muttering to himself as he attempted to decipher some of the text, he then turned to Harker with an intrigued expression.

  ‘Is this what I think it is?’

  ‘What do you think it is?’

  ‘Well, if I didn’t know better… I mean, the size especially, but the style, even the material it’s written on, I would say it comes from the Codex Gigas, but I know all the pages inside out and this is definitely not one of them.’ Carter tapped the parchment lightly with his finger. ‘Where the hell did you find this?’

  Harker polished off his drink in one gulp and placed the glass on the table next to the document. ‘It’s not where I got it but from whom.’

  Carter was instantly curious. ‘Go on.’

  The majority of people who knew David Carter were aware of his academic achievements and his impressive degrees and teaching prowess, but few knew that the ex-Cambridge don had an absolute obsession with all things occult: cults, secret societies, legends…and anything else that the mainstream today would label under the category of ‘conspiracies’. He loved it all, and to say it was his private passion was an understatement. Of course he tended to keep quiet about his personal hobby for fear of eliciting ridicule from his peers because, to his mind anyway, such ideas tended to cast a person in an unfavourable light. But that was going back ten years ago, and whether Carter still had any interests these days outside of the bottle remained to be seen.

  Harker decided to lay down everything, including the suicide and Chloe’s disappearance that had prompted – no, forced – him to make this trip to Berlin in the first place. And as he described the ritualistic murder and the apparent ‘resurrection’ of the victim, Carter became noticeably enthralled.

  ‘Christ alive,’ he spluttered, completely absorbed by the story. ‘This is the most bizarre thing I’ve heard in a long time…and the most fascinating.’

  ‘Bizarre is right,’ Harker agreed.

  Carter stroked his chin, suddenly looking lost. ‘Are you sure this man was really dead? I mean dead dead?’

  ‘David, he was dead as a dodo, no ifs or buts.’

  Carter continued stare at him with a vagueness that made Harker feel uneasy, and he immediately sought to keep the conversation going.

  ‘Look, I’m not even sure what it is I need from you, and there’s not a lot to go on but…can you help? I mean does any of this ritual I described and this group’s interest in the Codex ring any bells at all?’ There was desperation in Harker’s tone and Carter sensed it right away. He sat back up straight thoughtfully.

  ‘Well, you’re right about there being not much to go on, but there are groups – not just in Germany but around the world – who practise these sorts of things…minus the bringing a guy back to life.’ Carter raised his eyebrows then. ‘But most of those groups have Satanic or pagan elements embedded into their beliefs, and I’ve never previously heard of any connection to the Codex.’

  Carter took a moment to unscrew and take a swig directly from his whisky bottle before continuing with a renewed enthusiasm, as if the alcohol provided him with some clarity of mind. ‘Let’s put aside the more outlandish parts of your story and focus on the more down-to-earth aspects, shall we?’

  The use of the word ‘outlandish’ left Harker feeling somewhat foolish, and Carter recognized this and raised his hands submissively.

  ‘For the record, I believe what you say. You may be many things, Alex, but a bullshitter is not one of them.’

  Harker was slightly irked by the ‘many things’ part, but he kept his mouth shut and offered only a grateful nod.

  Carter continued, ‘The Codex Gigas has always been surrounded by legends and mystery but, as you know, it primarily focuses on the pact made between the Devil and the monk and not on any significance these missing pages may have, as this Lucas character sugge
sted.’ He paused and a deep frown spread across his brow. ‘He really blew his head off right in front of you?’

  ‘As close as I am to you right now,’ Harker replied, gesturing towards Carter at the other end of the sofa.

  ‘God, that must have been horrific. I’m not sure I would cope with seeing something like that.’

  ‘It’s not something I want to experience again, that’s for sure,’ Harker replied coldly before pushing the bloody, partially headless image of Lucas from his mind. ‘Please, David, go on.’

  ‘Of course,’ Carter said apologetically, ‘best not to think about it.’ And then his eyes began to squint. ‘You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?’

  ‘I’m trying not to,’ Harker replied in a raised tone of voice, provoked by his host’s morbid probing of the grisly event.

  Once again Carter bowed his head apologetically. ‘Sorry, Alex…where was I? Oh yes, Lucas and his willingness to commit suicide.’

  Harker let out a small sigh. David Carter had a way of winding people up, and to the uninitiated it could appear deliberate. But Harker knew better, because the ex-don had a habit of going around in circles during conversations, and the constant drinking certainly wasn’t helping.

  ‘Well, no one takes their own life willingly unless they are either mentally ill, doing it for the greater good, or are getting something out of it spiritually. Discount the first two and you’re left with the spiritual aspect. And, judging by what you told me concerning the dead man seemingly coming back to life, then who knows…maybe there is some truth in all this.’

  Carter turned to the oversized page of the Codex and ran his fingers down that same illegible section of the text. ‘Can you imagine if what we are looking at here truly was written by the Devil’s own hand?’

  The thought had Harker shaking his head and he rubbed his cheek in frustration. ‘Come on, David, I can’t accept that.’

  Carter looked surprised at this. ‘Why not? You were a priest once, weren’t you, a man of the cloth? If you believe in God, then you have to believe in the Devil. Not just as an idea but as a tangible and real entity.’

  Harker let out a weary groan as Carter continued, apparently unfazed by Harker’s reaction.

  ‘It never ceases to amaze me how human beings clasp onto the idea that everything we see can be catalogued and rationalized according to our own realm of understanding, despite the wider reality we find ourselves in. We live on a planet hanging in space that encompasses billions of other planets, and surrounded by billions of galaxies – and with absolutely no idea how the hell we got here in the first place.’

  This remark got merely a sharp look of surprise from Harker.

  ‘Yes, we can follow the timeline back to the Big Bang, but we have no idea how it all started, or why, and’ – Carter was clearly gaining traction with the idea – ‘mathematicians and scientists now think we could be part of a multiverse, with each “verse” potentially conforming to different laws of physics from our own, and inhabiting the same time and space!’

  ‘And your point here is?’

  ‘My point is that if that’s how crazy our own reality is, then is it such a leap to think that there may be forces at work that we can barely comprehend, let alone understand. Sure, maybe we just call it the Devil for our own reference, but who knows what such an entity really is? It could be anything.’

  Carter turned his attention back to the Codex page. ‘Could these words form part of some ancient wisdom passed down to us from God-knows-who that has been lost to history?’

  ‘OK, that’s enough,’ Harker said sternly as he proceeded to lift up the Codex page and carefully refold it. ‘This is getting altogether a bit too weird. To think that you can overcome death by just saying a few words is laughable.’

  Carter was almost bouncing in his seat as Harker slipped the thick wodge of vellum back into his inside pocket.

  ‘Alex, those words are like nothing I have ever seen before, and I couldn’t even begin to guess at a translation. Besides which, you said you witnessed a man die and then come back from the dead! I mean, Christ, that’s a miracle in itself. This is an adventure, my friend. A real goddam supernatural adventure!’

  The mention of an adventure was getting Harker annoyed and, although he could see his old acquaintance was genuinely buying into his own sales pitch, it seemed time to call it quits. He raised his hand directly in front of Carter’s face. ‘Enough, David,’ he fumed. ‘This isn’t a bloody adventure. This is about trying to get back the woman I love, and that’s the only thing I care about at the moment.’

  This outburst stopped Carter in his tracks and he leant back in his seat as Harker lowered his arm back to his side.

  ‘You love her? I thought she was just a girlfriend.’

  ‘So did I until just now,’ Harker grunted, shocked by his own personal realization. He fell back onto the sofa with a thump and took a deep breath. ‘Chloe’s life is on the line and I’m scrambling to figure out everything…anything. The what, why, how. Maybe it’s time I went to the police and reported her being kidnapped.’

  The words had just left Harker’s mouth when the iPhone in his trouser pocket began to ring, causing both men to freeze. Why they did so, they had no idea – perhaps it was the timing.

  Harker retrieved the mobile and pressed the answer icon. ‘Hello.’

  ‘Mr Harker, so good to finally speak to you. I believe you’ve already met my friend Lucas.’

  The man’s voice was husky and unsteady as if the caller had very little strength in his lungs.

  ‘Where’s Chloe?’ Harker demanded, Carter immediately perking up at the mention of her name.

  ‘She is fine, of that I can assure you, but her future well-being lies solely in your hands.’

  ‘Let me talk to her.’

  ‘We’re not there yet, Mr Harker,’ the wheezy voice rasped, ‘but you will get a chance to do so as we progress further.’

  ‘Progress!’ The word implied some long-drawn-out association with this feeble-sounding old man, and Harker felt totally vexed at the idea.

  ‘As Lucas informed you, Mr Harker, there are another two pages required, along with the one you already have on your person.’

  ‘How do you know I have the first one?’ Harker growled, not wanting to feel like he was on the back foot.

  ‘Because I know,’ the voice croaked. ‘We told you we would be watching.’

  ‘Lucas did say that…just before he blew his head off. Just remind me never to work for you.’

  A dry cackle reverberated through the speaker. ‘How very quaint of you, Mr Harker, but a life given is a life saved, and I wonder how jovial you will be when your girlfriend is lying cold on a mortuary slab?’

  Harker remained silent. After all, what could he do but start hurling insults down the line? Although extremely tempting, it would do little to help.

  ‘Good, I like a person who knows when to shut up,’ the voice continued. ‘Now go to the front door and open it, and I warn you, Mr Harker, not to do anything stupid that we will both regret.’

  Harker didn’t answer and, under the watchful eye of Carter, he headed into the entrance hallway and opened the door to find a tall man in a red duffel coat who was wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap. He stood in the porch with one of his gloved hands extended.

  ‘Give the man in front of you the page, please,’ came the request and, even though Harker was tempted to grab the courier by the throat and beat any information he might possess out of him, he instead did as he was told.

  The courier palmed the folded Codex page and put it into a black satchel with two brass-coloured metal straps. Once it was secured, he did an about turn and, without a word, headed off down the road.

  ‘Good,’ the old man said. ‘Now go back into the lounge and put me on speakerphone.’

  Harker headed back and pressed the speaker icon, before placing it on the table. Whatever the mystery man wanted to say, he wanted it to be over as soon a
s possible.

  ‘Mr Carter,’ the voice puffed, ‘you don’t need to talk. You only need to listen.’

  Carter was suddenly looking nauseous. He rubbed his hands together nervously at having his name mentioned.

  ‘I am afraid that you are now caught up in all this, whether you wish it or not. And should you have any gripes about it, then I suggest you direct them towards Mr Harker, who should never have involved you in the first place.’

  Carter shot Harker a look not born out of anger but of alarm, and the two men now sat quietly, waiting for the voice to recommence.

  ‘I am afraid it does not pay to be a friend of Mr Harker’s, but there you have it. Anyway, it’s a case of join him now or I have you killed, and none of us want such an unnecessary and messy complication, wouldn’t you agree?’

  ‘Oh, I agree,’ Carter stammered fretfully, noticeably unsettled at the suggestion of his murder being an option.

  ‘Shut up,’ the voice hissed, ‘I was being rhetorical. You will both travel to the cathedral at the Piazza dei Miracoli and meet there a person who will be waiting for you. I trust the location is well known to you, Mr Harker.’

  ‘I know where it is,’ Harker replied, while ignoring a questioning look from Carter.

  ‘Good. The person I mention is in possession of another Codex page, and I want you to retrieve it. The individual in question will be seated in the front pew, and is expecting to have the item picked up by someone unknown to him but using the password “The watcher watches us all, but you are free to do as you will” as identification. Follow his instructions to the letter, and be aware that it took a lot of effort to acquire that password, so don’t screw this up. Then, maybe, I will allow you to speak to Dr Stanton.’

  Sensing the end of the conversation, Harker leapt in on the back of the final sentence. ‘What do I call you?’

  There was a short pause and then the voice came back on the line. ‘God,’ he rasped with a snigger. ‘You may address me as God.’