The Last Judgement

by The Last Judgement (retail) (epub)

  Harker scrambled to his feet and steadied himself on the short and narrow rooftop, before taking up position directly facing the main perimeter wall. The jump involved was no more than two metres in distance but the edge of the wall stood higher, and about half a metre above Harker’s head, which meant that he not only needed to assess distance but height as well. It would have proved an awkward feat in broad daylight let alone in the almost pitch dark with only shadows as references, but it is remarkable how having a rotting dead guy chasing after you can make one attempt the impossible. It was with this thought that Harker tensed up, took one long stride, and hurled himself towards the outer wall.

  His left hand landed too low and slammed painfully against stone, but two fingers of his right hand managed to grip onto the edge and, feeling them beginning to give way under his weight, he lurched upwards and grasped quickly on with his left hand. The weight displacement had without doubt twisted some muscles in his two right-hand fingers but, given the circumstances, it was a price he was happy to pay as he began to pull himself higher up.

  As Harker stood upright on the thick stone wall, the clouds overhead dispersed slightly and again the welcome light of the nearly full moon shone through, bathing the cemetery in a silvery glow. ‘About bloody time,’ Harker hissed as he began making his way along the wall towards the entrance building, leaving the groans and stench of the gruesome twosome behind him.

  It took no time at all to reach the end point where the wall met the entrance, now giving him a clear view of the access area beyond, where the interior light of a four-wheel-drive BMW X6 M50d revealed a man tied up inside being shouted at by one of the guards wearing a plague doctor’s outfit.

  ‘I want you to sit there and think very carefully, tubby, because we’re taking you somewhere very special tonight, and if you haven’t told us everything by the time we arrive, then don’t expect to ever leave. Understand?’

  David Carter stared up at the beaked mask and, with flared nostrils and eyes wide with fear, replied, ‘I’ve told you everything I know—’

  At that point the guard landed an almighty slap across Carter’s face, before he slammed the rear passenger door shut. ‘We’ll see,’ he muttered audibly to himself and then disappeared out of sight into the main entrance building.

  Harker quickly lowered himself from the wall onto the ground, needing to drop the last couple of metres and landing with a light thud. He then manoeuvred his way around to the BMW’s driver side and carefully opened the door before sliding inside, keeping his head low.

  ‘Hello?’ Carter called out nervously as Harker poked his head around one side of the front seat.

  ‘This is quite a mess were in.’

  The look of relief on Carter’s face was priceless, and Harker genuinely thought his friend was about to burst into tears.

  ‘Oh, thank God,’ he exclaimed, his initial relief now evaporating ‘And where the hell have you been?’

  ‘Oh, you know, David, being hunted by two killer ghouls around an eerie old cemetery in the pitch black…and you?’

  Such sarcasm was totally lost on Carter, who was already shaking his head defiantly. ‘They threatened to torture and kill me, Alex. That man said he was going to ram a cattle prod up my bottom, until I either became “fully charged” or my rectum prolapsed!’ Carter was now visibly shaking in anger. ‘I mean what kind of sickos are these people anyway?’

  Harker didn’t reply but instead reached over and was relieved to find the ignition key still in place. Even better, the Codex Gigas page that Vlad had taken back was sitting squarely on the front passenger seat and he almost yelled out loud in relief. ‘We’re leaving,’ he whispered, his voice quivering excitedly, then reached over and turned the key. With a purr, the engine rolled over and, despite requests from Carter to untie him, Harker pressed down on the clutch and was already reaching for the gearstick when the entrance building’s door swung open. A long shadow fell across the ground between them followed by the figure of Vlad, whose attention was now fixed firmly upon the BMW.

  Harker jammed the gearstick into first and released the clutch so quickly that, when the reviving engine connected, the wheels spun fast and hard against the loose soil and pebbles underneath, sending gusts of dust in Vlad’s direction. The road was dry but it felt like steering through thick mud until Harker noticed the red handbrake light glowing. A rookie’s mistake to be sure but, given the circumstances, he forgave himself and released it, much to the benefit of the car’s engine as it lurched forward and began to pick up speed.

  The BMW had already reached 60 mph and Harker was only just managing to keep the car stable on the narrow dirt road when a bullet hit the wing mirror, which shattered, sending pieces flying everywhere. It had to have been of a large calibre to do so much damage and, considering the distance they had already driven from the cemetery, the gunman was a demon of a shot.

  A second bullet slammed through the rear windscreen and turned the passenger headrest into a puffball of shredded nylon and leather. It almost caused Harker to careen off the road and into the thick bushes alongside it.

  Mercifully there was no third shot and, with no one appearing in pursuit, Harker headed off the back roads and towards the autostrada SS3 leading into Rome. But it was not until they were securely surrounded by other cars all heading into the city that either one of them finally spoke.

  ‘Thank you,’ Carter said, having obviously calmed down after the idea of being on the receiving end of a rectal probe.

  ‘I’m just glad we got out,’ Harker admitted.

  ‘What the hell did we just witness back there? I don’t know whether to believe what I saw or put it down to something like a weird dream.’

  ‘A nightmare is more like it,’ Harker replied, still shaking off the thought of those two festering dead men walking. ‘We’re going straight to Vatican City,’ he continued, pausing as he swerved to avoid some idiot in a silver Audi A5, who was jumping lanes without looking. ‘There’s someone I need to speak with. Someone who might be able to help us.’

  There was a moment of silence as both men came to terms with the unholy nature of the events back at Cervete, but it was Carter who spoke first as he tugged at his bound hands. ‘I would appreciate it if you could untie me first, Alex,’ he suggested, as the rope began to chafe.

  ‘Of course,’ Harker replied, having entirely forgotten about his friend’s restraints. ‘We’ll stop at the next service station, OK? Anything else you need?’

  ‘Yes,’ Carter replied, with a look of renewed determination in his eyes. ‘A stonking big drink!’

  Chapter 13

  ‘Welcome, Mr Davies. It’s good to see you again, and looking so well I might add.’

  Davies pulled down on the lapels of his Savile Row pinstriped suit and made his way further into the red-lit room and over to the wheelchair and the old man slumped on it.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Winters. You look well yourself.’

  ‘Rubbish. Still, I appreciate the thought.’ Jacob Winters smiled through cracked lips and pulled the thin tartan blanket closer to his chest. ‘So to what do I owe this welcome, if not unexpected, visit? I trust everything is proceeding to your satisfaction?’

  Davies looked troubled as he sat down in the cushioned armchair placed next to the old man and squinted due to the lack of lighting. ‘The plan is bearing fruit but the group has some issues with regard to outside interference.’

  ‘Ah yes,’ Winters replied with an understanding nod. ‘This Harker individual and his friend?’

  ‘Exactly,’ Davies agreed with a frown. ‘Many of us are feeling rather exposed at having these rogue elements interfering in our business.’

  Winters reached over and placed his shaky and crusty hand on Davies’s forearm. ‘I assure you they are nothing more than a couple of flies in the ointment, and we will get them swatted soon enough.’

  Winters’s answer did little to alleviate his guest’s concern. ‘That may be so, but secrecy and anonymi
ty is our greatest protection and, considering Harker’s uncanny ability to know where we are meeting on two separate occasions now, we assume he is getting information from someone on the inside.’

  Winters didn’t look concerned at the possibility but his cheeks flared, creating thick wrinkles around his eyes. ‘The thought had occurred to me but I can state unequivocally that it did not come from my side of the fence. The only men involved are but a chosen few and above reproach, which can only mean one thing.’

  Winters pulled back his hand and placed it on his lap, with his index finger tapping upon the blanket.

  ‘And that is?’ Davies replied awkwardly and already suspecting what the answer was.

  ‘That there is an informer somewhere on your side.’

  Davies glared at the old man, looking deeply offended. ‘Impossible. That would make no sense whatsoever.’

  ‘Really, and with what reasoning do you reach such a conclusion?’

  ‘Because every one of our families has been chasing this knowledge for generations, and to think that with it finally in our grasp any of us would sabotage it…well, it’s unthinkable.’

  Winters was already wavering his quivering hand in a dismissive manner. ‘Calm yourself, Mr Davies, I am certainly not accusing you. Far from it – your family has been at the spear tip of this endeavour, but don’t forget it was we who approached you with the offer of this gift, and not the other way around.’

  ‘For a price,’ Davies stated coldly.

  ‘Yes, for a price – which is the very reason that I know it is not from my end that these problems stem.’

  Winters took a pause to sip from his water glass as Davies considered the point just being made and then, with a cough, he wiped his lips and with a pained grunt shifted closer. ‘You said yourself that your group has been searching for the answer we offer you for generations – with what it would be fair to call an obsession. With that in mind, is it so hard to entertain the possibility that one of them has decided they now want it just for themselves?’

  The idea of betrayal appeared to gain some traction in Davies’s thoughts, and he sat back in his seat thoughtfully and mulled over the prospect.

  ‘Is there anyone you can think of that might have had the audacity to seize upon such an endeavour?’

  Davies remained quiet until finally he crossed his arms and then pursed his lips tightly. ‘Maybe.’

  It was the answer Winters had been wanting to hear and he rubbed his hands together menacingly. ‘Then it appears we now have a place to start. In the meantime I think it would be prudent to have a meeting of all of us to allay any fears this meddling may have caused. How long would it take to gather everyone?’

  ‘Our members from Spreepark are already back in the country, preparing, and the rest from Cervete cemetery can be with us within hours,’ Davies replied, getting to his feet.

  ‘Good. Then please arrange it all as quickly as possible,’ Winters instructed politely. ‘And if you could give me the name of the potential traitor you have in mind, I will have him or her looked into for any…irregularities.’

  ‘Of course,’ Davies replied. ‘But we need to be sure before any accusations ae made.’

  ‘I understand and, rest assured, I will settle for nothing less than concrete evidence before any accusations begin to fly.’

  ‘Thank you. I will be in touch.’

  With that Davies began to head for the door, then paused as Winters called after him with a quavering voice.

  ‘Would you be so kind as to send Albert in, once you have spoken with him?’

  ‘Of course,’ Davies replied as he left the room.

  After a few minutes a man with dark hair and a loose-fitting grey suit appeared and strode over to stand by Winters.

  ‘Did you get all that?’ the old man asked with a sneer, revealing brown-stained teeth.

  ‘I heard everything and I will therefore begin the checks. I’m sure we can dig up something on the person Mr Davies mentioned,’ Albert confirmed. He moved closer and bent down on one knee. ‘This is a dangerous game you’re playing, sir. If anyone discovers that you’re the one informing Harker, then it will be all our heads on the chopping block.’

  Albert’s warning was met with a grimace and Winters patted the man on his chest. ‘Dangerous games are the only ones worth playing and, besides, no one is ever going to find out. Not after the meeting that Mr Davies is about to arrange.’

  Winters’s response was of little comfort to the younger man and he sighed heavily. ‘This cat-and-mouse game may seem fun, but wouldn’t it just be better to have done with them all, including Dr Stanton? I could arrange that immediately.’

  ‘No.’ Winters waved a spindly finger. ‘We may need her as leverage and, anyway, this isn’t about fun; it’s about atonement. Alex Harker will get what’s coming to him, but not yet. His troubles are only just beginning.’

  Chapter 14

  ‘No,’ Cardinal Piero Baptista yelled as he slammed his palm down hard upon the sturdy oak conference table. ‘We cannot allow this person to force his way into official Vatican business, especially given the consequences of his last visit.’

  Cardinal Michael Boyle sat patiently as Baptista lowered himself back into his seat with nothing further to offer than a scowl. Of course some of the cardinal’s reasoning was correct, but to heap all the blame on just one individual was completely unjustified, and Boyle couldn’t help feeling much of this animosity was more personal in nature.

  ‘Come on, Piero, that’s not fair…the poor man was dragged into this like everyone else. And I might remind you that if he hadn’t been, then who knows where it would have led us? Besides, he’s a friend of ours.’

  This last comment had Baptista seething once again. ‘No, he is a friend of yours…there is a difference, you know?’

  ‘You’re right,’ Boyle conceded, ‘but, given what he told me over the phone, he may hold some of the answers that we’ve been searching for.’

  Boyle stood up and rested both hands upon the table top, not in a threatening manner this time but rather as a gesture for them to meet halfway. ‘Let’s see what he has to say, then. What harm could it do?’

  Baptista’s scowl disappeared and was replaced with a serious look of concern. ‘That is what everyone said last time and we all know how that turned out, don’t we?’

  Cardinal Boyle took this downbeat reply as a yes and, with a gracious nod of his head, he strode over to the double doors, pulled one ajar and muttered quietly to someone outside, ‘Send him in.’ Boyle then headed back to his seat but decided to stand behind it rather than sit down.

  The two cardinals waited in silence and listened as the crisp sound of footsteps on marble flooring grew ever louder, until coming to an abrupt stop just outside. There followed a short knock at the door.

  ‘Come in,’ Boyle called out, as the doors swung open and two papal Swiss guards, each wearing traditional blue and yellow striped uniforms, trimmed with red and topped with a military-style black beret, marched inside with their visitor in tow.

  ‘Alex,’ Boyle called out with a welcoming smile, offering his hand. ‘It’s good to see you.’

  Harker grasped the cardinal’s outstretched hand and shook it firmly. ‘Thank you for seeing me at such short notice, Michael. I appreciate it.’

  Boyle offered a nod and turned his attention towards the other cardinal, who had already risen from his seat. ‘This is Cardinal Piero Baptista.’

  Harker reached over and shook the man’s limp and obviously unenthusiastic hand. ‘It’s a pleasure, Cardinal,’ he said politely, but his greeting was rewarded with little more than a sneer. So when Boyle motioned to the spare chair next to him, he was happy to take it.

  In his late forties and with thick strawberry-blond hair, Michael Boyle had always been a straight talker, willing to give anyone a chance, but unforgiving to anyone who betrayed his trust or did not behave ‘on the level’, as he was so fond of putting it. Harker had met this Iris
hman at a charity event long after quitting the priesthood, and the two of them had rapidly clicked and become good friends. Although they rarely met up, Harker made a point of emailing the man several times a year, just to keep the bond alive. And when Boyle was made a cardinal earlier that year, Harker had been one of the first to congratulate him.

  The grey-haired and much older Piero Baptista, on the other hand, was a complete unknown to Harker and, despite hearing the name over the years, the only thing he had to judge the cardinal by was the look of deep mistrust being aimed at him as he took his seat.

  ‘I asked Cardinal Baptista to join us here because of the’ – Boyle paused and rubbed his brow uncomfortably – ‘unusual nature of your phone call. Something to do with…living corpses, I believe?’

  The very mention of such a notion had Baptista wincing and, as Harker began to elaborate upon the telephone call he had made earlier, even Boyle developed a sceptical glint in his eye.

  ‘Before we begin I want you to know that, no matter how strange this sounds, I’m only telling you the events I witnessed with my own eyes, and not making any assumptions that I myself may or may not have drawn.’ This came out of Harker’s mouth sounding more like a plea than an explanation, and although both of the cardinals remained silent, their expressions signalled deep misgivings.

  ‘I’m not sure exactly how to say this, so I’ll just say it,’ Harker continued awkwardly. ‘During the past twenty-four hours or so, I have seen three people – all of them dead – come back to life. The first I had seen strangled in front of my eyes only for him to wake up and walk out of a Berlin morgue several hours later. The other two had been dead for, I guess, several days or more, but managed to pull themselves out of their graves and begin walking around…as if alive.’

  ‘How do you know they had been buried for days?’ Baptista asked, stony-faced.

  ‘Well, their rotting skin and bloated bodies were a dead giveaway. And if you smelt the stench coming off them, I think you’d have reached the same conclusion.’