Harker now found himself preoccupied with the unpalatable notion of turning up to meet the legendary Grand Master of the Knights Templar along with a pissed, middle-aged man hoping to catch a lap dance.
‘Should take about an hour and a half to get there,’ the driver informed them on catching Carter’s jovial grin in the rear-view mirror. ‘Should give enough time for a little snooze, if anyone needs one.’
‘Thank you,’ Harker replied, shooting a dirty look at Carter, who was blissfully unaware of the reproachful jibe directed towards him and more preoccupied with a couple of short-skirted brunettes walking by.
‘Let’s get going, then.’ The Templar started up the Mercedes and pulled out into the heavy traffic.
In the back seat, Harker settled down, allowing the day’s accumulation of tension to drain away He had no idea where they were heading, which was standard practice when meeting Brulet, but he knew it would be a safe journey and he was cheered that they’d sent a Templar with those extremely rare – yet to him familiar – grey eyes. Of course not all Templars shared that trait, but sending one who did had surely been deliberate on Brulet’s part, to help make Harker feel secure that the man was exactly who he said he was.
Closing his eyes to the peaceful hum of the Mercedes’s engine, he began to slip into a deep sleep. He had not slept properly since the flight to Berlin over a day ago, and the only thing keeping him going right now was the buzz of adrenalin in his veins. Besides which, if events up to now were anything to go by, he was going to need all the energy his body could muster.
Of course, if he only knew what was about to come, he would have demanded not just a short rest but a full-blown holiday.
Chapter 17
‘Welcome, ladies and gentlemen,’ Jacob Winters announced as he was wheeled into the grand marble-floored conference room, before being positioned in the last remaining space at the enormous circular conference table. Long red drapes hung from ceiling railings, covering the oversized windows, and overhead a glimmering crystal chandelier with gold trimmings cascaded sparkles of white light down onto the central table and the fourteen people seated around it. The wooden surface was split into fifteen equal sections by dividing lines that allocated each of the attendees, with their own individual zone, like triangular slices of a giant pie, and within each section was a heraldic emblem.
‘Thank you for attending at such short notice,’ Winters continued as Albert locked his wheelchair in place and then backed up against the closed door, his hands clasped, and his tuxedo making him look like a bouncer at the entrance to a VIP nightclub. ‘I cannot tell you how honoured I feel to see you all gathered here together and sitting opposite your family crests.’ Winters motioned with a limp hand towards the emblems engraved into each triangular section. ‘This assembly is unsurpassed in terms of wealth, power and sheer determination.’
There were very few smiles from the fourteen attendees and their expressions remained stony, hard and unyielding, with an air of entitlement emanating from each and every one of them.
‘I know there is much preparation to be done but I, along with Mr Davies’ – Winters gestured to the man sitting directly opposite – ‘have learnt of something extremely troubling that could entail ramifications for us all if not dealt with.’
His audience remained silent but attentive as Winters now began to reveal the ‘conspiracy’ that both he and Albert had concocted just hours earlier.
‘I am aware of your concerns regarding this Harker fellow and his associate, who have been sticking their noses into our business, appearing at gatherings in Berlin and the like, and it is not something I take lightly. We cannot have these men attempting to thwart our plans, but’ – Winters raised his finger skywards, though only managing to hold it there for a few seconds – ‘I am far more interested in how these two were able to find us in the first place. Why it was these particular individuals were chosen is a moot point at present, because the real question is who recruited them.’ Winters now beckoned over Albert, who immediately joined him at the table. ‘And to that question we have an answer.’
Albert now bent over and picked up a shiny black document folder resting against the table leg beside Winters, unwound the string binding it then pulled out a photograph and held it up for all in the group to see.
‘This man is known as Lucas,’ Winters explained, ‘and we have discovered that he met with Alex Harker shortly before this meddling began. What we also know is that, soon after their meeting, he was found with his head blown off.’ Albert now held up the disturbing crime-scene photo showing the aftermath of Lucas’s suicide. ‘So far, there have been no leads to his murderer’s identity.’
Of the fourteen attendees, there was only one who was beginning to look uncomfortable, and as Winters continued, she looked more and more worried.
‘It would appear that he was silenced by whoever wanted the Codex pages for themselves. As for this Harker person… As I have said, we don’t know why he has been involved but, whatever the reason, he has been successful in taking those pages from us.’
The entire group now erupted into a flurry of anger at the news but, before any one of them began shouting, it was Albert who slammed his fist down on the table, making them all fall silent as Winters continued to explain.
‘There is nothing to be concerned about,’ he declared confidently. ‘Even as we speak, my men have pinpointed the three Codex pages and are retrieving them. They will be back in our hands within a matter of hours.’
This last piece of news had them all settling back into their seats and, although many were still visibly angered at the breach in security, they all looked mollified…except for one.
Winters’s demeanour now became colder as he stared around the table with a grimace. ‘This whole sequence of events does lead us, unfortunately, to the rather unpalatable conclusion that we have a traitor in our midst. A person – one of us – who decided they wanted the spoils of our endeavour all to themselves, and at any cost.’
A nervous-looking woman rose from her seat and jabbed her forefinger vigorously towards Winters. ‘How dare you accuse me of such a thing?’
‘I didn’t accuse you of anything, Miss Rochet,’ Winters replied, extremely happy to elicit the reaction he had been attempting to provoke. ‘Not yet.’
The rest of the group were now looking towards the red-haired forty-year-old with suspicion, and the two sitting on either side of her even began to their push their chairs back slightly, leaving her standing apart as Winters now pursued his case.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, it is no surprise that Miss Rochet has reacted in this way, because what I know, and you do not, is that Lucas was working for her directly. Isn’t that right, my lady?’
Rochet was now struggling to keep calm and gave Winters a venomous scowl. ‘He has worked for me, yes, but that means nothing. I didn’t even know he was dead!’
‘Oh, I doubt that,’ Winters replied, and then sat back smugly in his wheelchair as Davies took over the role of accuser.
‘Your family has always been the one weak link in our chain, and we know your ancestors had a habit of swapping sides from time to time, but your blatant betrayal is the bitterest pill to swallow. Let me ask you, did you intend to have us all killed once you partook in our success?’
‘This is outlandish,’ Miss Rochet yelled defiantly as the others began to glower at her. Winters now flicked a withered finger towards her, whereupon Albert dutifully moved to the other side of the table and roughly shoved her back down into her seat.
‘We cannot allow anyone to compromise our cause,’ Davies announced, now turning his attention back to the rest of his group. ‘Let us vote.’
Without even a pause, the other thirteen raised their hands in unison. And, as Rochet continued to shrilly insist her innocence, Albert pulled a cotton handkerchief from his pocket and thrust it into her mouth like a gag. He then pulled her to her feet and forcibly held her hands behind her back before slapping on a pair
of handcuffs retrieved from his pocket.
‘You have chosen to treat the rest of us as nothing better than dogs,’ Davies snarled, ‘and now you yourself will die like one.’
Albert began dragging the screaming and kicking woman towards the nearest curtained section of wall, and two of the others pulled it aside to reveal a set of double doors. He pushed them open and thrust the woman outside onto a slabbed patio linked to a lush green lawn surrounded by tall conifers.
While the others began to reassemble outside, Winters stayed where he was and reached for a pair of dark sunglasses as the morning light seeped in through the open doorway, stinging his eyes.
‘Your treachery disgusts me and all your assets shall be seized,’ Davies hissed as the other thirteen silently urged him on with their expressions.
Rochet staggered to her feet and continued struggling against her restraints, still protesting her innocence. But then a deathly hush came over the angry crowd and she too fell silent as she noticed the two black Rottweilers growling at her from the far side of the patio.
‘Please, no,’ she begged as the dog handlers began to unclip their leashes.
‘Now run,’ Davies ordered, giving her a hard kick in the middle of the back. ‘And hope, when the time comes, that the judgement you face is a favourable one.’
Back in the conference room, Albert had returned to join Winters, and he looked at his Samsung mobile before kneeling next to the old man. ‘Harker is currently meeting with the Templars,’ he announced, displaying the texted message as, from outside, the high-pitched screams of Rochet mingled with the barking of the dogs echoing through the room.
‘Interesting,’ Winters replied. ‘We should give our boy a call.’
Albert was already releasing the old man’s wheel locks when his hand was brushed away.
‘But first,’ Winters declared, as the sounds of screams outside began to turn into a gurgled yelping, ‘I want to catch the show.’
Chapter 18
Harker awoke to the sound of laughter coming from outside the Mercedes Benz. Jerking forward anxiously in those first few disorientating seconds between slumber and consciousness, he slammed his forehead against the back of the front passenger seat’s headrest.
‘Welcome to Civitavecchia,’ the Templar offered warmly, eyeing him in the rear-view mirror. ‘I trust you slept well?’
‘Yes, thank you,’ Harker replied, rubbing at his temple before glancing over at Carter, who was still out cold and emitting a long-drawn-out snore with each breath.
‘I was tempted to wake you a few minutes ago,’ the Templar explained, ‘but you looked like you really needed the rest.’
‘I did,’ Harker replied before turning his attention to the yachts moored up on the twinkling blue waters. ‘Civitavecchia? So we’re on the west coast?’
‘We certainly are,’ the Templar confirmed as he brought the Mercedes to a halt at the impressive entrance to the town’s main port. ‘Superb vacation spot, if you ever find the time.’
‘I wish,’ Harker replied longingly. He had never been to this maritime town situated about eighty kilometres outside Rome, but had always wanted to visit it. The main harbour had been constructed by the Roman emperor Trajan in the early second century for defence and trade purposes, but in the modern era it had become a centre for cruise ships as well. The town had seen massive bombing raids during the Second World War, and much rebuilding had taken place in the aftermath. Thankfully the famed Maschio tower overlooking the port, which had been built in part by none other than Michelangelo himself, survived the bombings, and as Harker exited the Mercedes to stretch his legs he gazed upon the impressive stone fort with reverence. This building had been the reason for he’d wanted to visit Civitavecchia in the first place, although unfortunately that sightseeing trip would have to wait for another time.
‘If you head down the main gangway, there’s a boat already waiting for you,’ the Templar directed after winding down the passenger door window. ‘It’s the Excelsior. You can’t miss it.’
‘You’re not coming?’
The Templar gestured over his shoulder to Carter, still sprawled out on the back seat and continuing to snore loudly. ‘I think your friend needed more sleep than you did. Don’t worry, I’ll find a parking spot and then bring him along to join you if and when he wakes up.’
Harker was grateful and nodded. ‘Thank you,’ he said as the Templar gave him a friendly salute and proceeded to drive off into a large parking area on the opposite side of the road.
The harbour’s edge was in the shape of a semicircle, providing protection from the Adriatic waves, and gigantic cruise and container ships lined its inner wall, unloading their goods and passengers. But one vessel stood out immediately, not because of its size but rather the opposite. The name Excelsior gleamed in gold and, although striking, it paled in comparison to its much larger brothers and sisters. The 73-foot super-yacht contained three decks, with black-tinted windows wrapped around each level and graced with an open area at the bow. What this contained was impossible to tell from where Harker stood, but he guessed a small swimming pool in view of the private craft’s lavish size.
‘Wow,’ Harker muttered as he approached the awesome vessel, and noticed a man in a white shirt, shorts and plimsolls waving at him from the foot of the gangplank.
‘Professor Harker,’ he called out, briskly making his way over. ‘Pleasure to meet you. I’m Jeffrey Hawkins, the captain.’
‘Nice to meet you, Captain. I have an invitation from Tri—’
Hawkins silenced him with a gesture and waved him towards the gangplank. ‘No need to mention his name, sir. He’s expecting you.’
This comment seemed a bit cloak-and-dagger but Harker obliged, and followed Captain Hawkins up the plank and onto the first level of the ship. If the exterior was impressive the interior was unbelievable. With an open bar and thick white carpet, it looked like the VIP room of a top-end nightclub, complete with a glossy wooden dance floor. The wall panelling was a combination of expensive rosewood and gilt, which gave the whole room a classical yet modern feel, and two darkened-glass double doors led out to a narrow seven-metre bathing pool beyond.
‘Nice,’ Harker commented, seriously impressed.
‘She’s one of a kind,’ Captain Hawkins replied proudly before pointing to a compact spiral staircase over in the corner. ‘Mr Brulet is waiting for you on the top floor. Please, go on up.’
Harker left the captain and made his way up the staircase, past the second floor and onwards to the top level. As he got closer, he could hear what sounded like a heated argument going on.
He paused at the top step and, instead of making his way directly inside, he hovered at the open doorway and saw a man sitting with his back to him being berated by a red-haired gentlemen smartly dressed in a dark-blue Armani suit and black tie.
‘…that’s not the point. We’ve been doing this for far too long to change now, and your brother would have agreed with me,’ the speaker argued aggressively. He had a twitch in his eye that fluttered at the end of each of his sentences. ‘We need to press our advantage and ensure our security as we have done so far! Not to do so would be a breach of our sworn oath, and I’m not the only one who thinks it…’
The red-haired man fell silent as he caught sight of Harker hovering in the stairwell. He glared at him challengingly as the other man, sensing a new presence, turned around.
‘Alex Harker,’ Tristan Brulet, wearing a pair of dark, thinly rimmed sunglasses, proclaimed with a smile. ‘Please join us.’ He gestured with his hand outstretched.
‘It’s good to see you, Tristan,’ Harker said, making his way over to shake Brulet’s hand and feeling glad to have been acknowledged rather than made to feel like an eavesdropper.
‘My apologies, but we were just in the middle of discussing something.’ The Grand Master shook Harker’s hand firmly.
‘Do you want me to wait downstairs?’ Harker asked, already preparing to retreat
towards the open doorway.
‘No, not at all,’ Brulet insisted, turning to introduce the red-haired man. ‘This is William Havers, and don’t let his disposition fool you. He’s a good friend.’
The kind mention appeared to soothe some of Havers’s hostility and he shook Harker’s hand with only a grimace. ‘I know who you are, Professor Harker.’
‘Please, call me Alex,’ Harker replied, wanting to at least try and break the ice.
‘Very well…Alex.’
There was an awkward pause before Brulet placed his hand on Havers’s shoulder. ‘Let’s discuss that matter another time, shall we?’
Havers emitted a growl of displeasure, then he forced his way past Harker, brushing shoulders with him lightly, and headed down the spiral steps to the second floor.
‘Try not to judge him from this encounter alone,’ Brulet requested. ‘He is a good man but he has a lot on his mind at the moment.’
‘I can see that.’
Harker’s sharp observation had Brulet shaking his head. ‘Take a seat and I will tell you all about it. You are a Templar and so you have a right to know.’
Brulet motioned to a green three-seater sofa pressed up against the wall, then waited for Harker to settle before taking a seat next to him. ‘A lot has happened since we last met, and that discussion you may have overheard is just a part of it.’
‘How so?’ Harker asked, still struggling to find a comfortable spot on the extremely slippery shiny leather sofa.
‘Now that the Magi are no longer a threat, there has been a difference of opinion within the Templar Council as to how we proceed,’ Brulet explained, also taking a moment to steady himself on the awkward seat. ‘Some – myself included – believe that the Templars need to create a new role for ourselves, focusing on our associated charitable and humanitarian organizations around the world. We may have begun as protectors of the Catholic Church but, as you know, over the years that role as guardian has evolved to encompass all religions. Our ranks are made up of people from every race and creed, and for centuries we have sought to serve humanity as a whole. In such a precarious and diverse modern world, I see that role as now being more important than ever. Unfortunately’ – Brulet glanced towards the doorway – ‘not everyone sees it that way, and many, Mr Havers included, feel that the Templars’ role as a “protectorate” is needed now more than ever.’
The Last Judgement Page 13
