The Last Judgement

by The Last Judgement (retail) (epub)

  ‘Sounds like the end of the cold war?’

  ‘Something like that, yes,’ Brulet sighed. ‘You gear up your entire apparatus and all your assets to maintain and whittle away the power of your enemy and then, when you finally succeed, what is there left to do?’

  ‘Find another enemy?’

  ‘Exactly.’ Brulet groaned. ‘Human beings are by their very nature a tribal species, with the potential for both good and bad, but with the very concept of religion being eroded in a world increasingly dependent on science and technology, there are those who are already looking to draw up new battle lines.’

  Brulet’s answer was a curious one but Harker got the gist of it. ‘You mean how religion instils in people who the good guys and the bad guys are?’

  ‘Yes,’ Brulet replied. ‘There is now a mindset, especially in the Western world, that human beings are born with an instilled sense of morality, which is a misguided notion. It is the old “nature over nurture” argument: are we born as empty vessels who are taught to act a certain way, or do our genes dictate what we become?’

  ‘It’s a conundrum, yes,’ Harker agreed, finding this philosophical discussion a bit much, considering he had only just woken up after the long car trip, ‘but you could argue that culture and society can shape those young minds just as well as religion does.’

  ‘True,’ Brulet said, ‘but you only need to look at the overused but accurate example of the Nazis to show how dangerous that can be. Teach young minds a particular ideology, no matter how despicable, and they will add to it and defend it with their dying breath, because we are all of us a product of external influence. And social norms will change far quicker without a basic set of morals in place. Every person on the planet is essentially brainwashed in some way, and we are all shaped by our experiences, but the only question that matters is are we brainwashed to be good or bad? Religion has always been the mechanism by which this was accomplished, and it has caused as much division as it has harmony. But still it’s the best system we have. If you never teach a young child that murder is wrong, then how would that child ever know that the act of murder was wrong in the first place…and so a cycle begins. They pass it on then to their children, and so on and so on.’

  ‘I see your problem,’ Harker replied, noting how Brulet possessed the same open mind as his late brother and previous Grand Master of the Knights Templar with a view to the bigger picture.

  ‘The Knights Templar have fought the Magi and all their terrible, narcissistic ideals for two thousand years, always debating whether our role was to defeat them utterly or merely contain them and thereby balance the scales, as it were. But our principles have always been guided by religious ideals, which I will admit were at first Catholic but over the years have broadened to encompass shared values from all religions – meaning that the Templars now act as a protectorate for all devout people. Templars have passed on this duty of protection from one generation to the next but, with such protection from the Magi not required any more, a new debate now rages as to our purpose.’

  ‘You’re talking about changing the very nature of the Templars?’ Harker suggested, fully understanding now what Brulet had been alluding to.

  ‘Exactly. Do we remain a wholly bipartisan organization and stick to the religious guidelines that developed into what the Templars are today, or do we become one that seeks to actively hunt down and destroy those whom society deems unfit?’

  Brulet frowned, shaking his head uneasily at the thought of such a choice. ‘For that is something that could easily change well-intentioned idealism into dangerous fanaticism – and the line between those two concepts is remarkably thin.’

  ‘What would it mean in practice?’

  ‘The first path would mean putting every resource we have into our charitable organizations and assuming a new role, with our vast network of political and business contacts, in shaping a fairer world and thereby helping oppressed countries to become fair and free societies through peaceful means.’

  ‘You mean pull the strings from the shadows?’

  ‘Come now, Alex.’ Brulet shrugged. ‘On a planet filled with over seven billion people, no single person pulls the strings. There are some powerful players out there, of course, but no one could ever possess the kind of control that so many Internet conspiracy theorists would have you believe. But, yes, we would aim to do so from a distance.’

  ‘And the second way?’

  Brulet slumped back in his seat. ‘The second way is to actively go after those who do not share the ideal of a fair and free world: terrorists on all sides of the religious spectrum as well as politicians and leaders who oppose it.’

  Brulet’s mentioning of such a path made Harker’s blood run cold. ‘That’s a dangerous road to go down, Tristan,’ he said, leaning forward attentively. ‘The Templars would essentially become a group of assassins and death squads. Don’t take me for being naive, though. I know that some measure of force will always be needed to create a truly peaceful world, but long-lasting peace is rarely created down the barrel of a gun. In the short term, yes, but not the kind of lasting world society you’re talking about.’

  ‘Wise words,’ Brulet remarked. He now removed his glasses, wincing in the daylight as he stared at Harker with those uniquely cross-shaped pupils of his. ‘But, as of now, the Knights Templar have a captain but no course to chart, and there are those who question their new leader’s ability to create one.’

  Up until that point Harker had assumed that Brulet’s position was unassailable, but as the Grand Master continued it became apparent how transformed the secretive organization had become since the Magi’s demise.

  ‘There are many within the Council who believe, as I do, that the more measured and peaceful approach is not only better suited to the Templars, but also simply the right thing to do… However there are others, Mr Havers included, who believe we should take what they term a more proactive role.’

  ‘Proactive!’ Harker exploded, almost shouting the word. ‘It’s a bit more than proactive. It could be a route to selective murder on a vast scale.’

  ‘I agree with you.’ Brulet raised a calming hand. ‘But if faced with a situation, let us say a man is about to kill someone with a knife right in front of you and let us also say that the victim is not a popular individual, even hated by some, do you allow it to happen or do you attempt to grab the knife and plunge it into the attacker, thus preventing the intended murder from ever happening?’

  ‘I’d wrestle it from his hands and then put him in jail for the rest of his life.’

  ‘It’s a fair point, but what if that very act of imprisonment serves only to give the offender martyr status, and others then seek to go after the original victim as revenge? As a consequence of not killing the attacker right there and then, many further acts of violence might follow.’

  There were obvious holes in Brulet’s theory and it was clear to Harker that, among the similarities he and his late brother had shared, arguing effectively was not one of them. But he nevertheless remained quiet and allowed the Grand Master to finish.

  ‘This is the lens through which many of the Templars and their Council view things, and their opposition to my more “peaceful” approach is, I am afraid to say, gaining in strength.’

  Harker had always seen the Templars as a beacon of strength and purity, irreproachable in their thinking and their ability to discern the black and white in a world awash with grey. But he now detected, as was the case with every other mortal being, a chink in their armour, and it made him nervous. Brulet obviously was just a man trying to do the right thing – for himself and for those who followed him. The very thought that the Templars, who Harker had always seen as a rock of incorruptibility, could waver in their mandate made him feel uneasy, and suddenly he realized how crucial Sebastien Brulet’s leadership had been. Tristan was undoubtedly a strong and worthy Grand Master, but did the man actually have what was needed during such a crucial moment in Templar history? Of
that Harker was unsure, but only time would tell.

  ‘Anyway,’ Brulet said, putting his sunglasses back on and then energetically jumping to his feet and making his way over to the drinks cabinet. ‘Enough of my problems. Drink?’

  ‘Vodka and Red Bull, thank you,’ Harker replied, ‘and I wouldn’t say no to a double.’

  ‘Having a bad day, are you?’ Brulet suggested, clearly happy to move on from his own issues, and with a smile he pulled a litre bottle of Russian standard vodka from its silver holder.

  ‘I’ve had better,’ Harker admitted despondently, ‘and I’ve been trying to get hold of John Shroder for the past twenty-four hours.’

  ‘That’s odd, as I’ve not heard from him either, and we only found you thanks to one of the security men on the Vatican gate.’ Brulet looked thoughtful as he began to mix their drinks. ‘I wouldn’t take it as a slight, though, given those recent terrorist attacks on British soil. I suspect both MI5 and MI6 are pretty busy at the moment.’

  Harker didn’t reply but instead settled himself deeper into the green sofa. As he watched Brulet pour a generous serving of vodka into each crystal glass he found himself thinking about this man’s deceased brother Sebastian. The two men looked so similar with that shared condition of Waardenburg syndrome, which caused such a distinct, almost silvery-grey skin tone and strikingly white hair. The brothers even moved in the same way, with that fluid cat-like gait one usually only sees when a feline is on the prowl while hunting prey, but apart from the uniquely shaped irises, that is where the similarities stopped. It was difficult to pinpoint, but Tristan seemed far more like a free-spirited playboy, not in the traditional sense but rather in the way in which he seemed far more willing to take a gamble on the unknown – and, of course, his love of anything exquisite such as this impressive yacht. Sebastien had seemed far more conservative and – how could one put it? – more salt of the earth.

  ‘This yacht is a far more lavish thing than anything my brother would ever have favoured, wouldn’t you agree?’ Brulet said out of the blue, surprising Harker from his thoughts. ‘That is what you were thinking, wasn’t it?’

  Harker sat expressionless and silent until Brulet moved over to him and placed the double vodka with Red Bull in his hands. ‘How did you know that?’ he replied finally, as Tristan sat back down beside him and placed his own drink on the glass coffee table in front of them.

  ‘The window to a man’s soul is not just the eyes, Alex, but his facial expressions – or, to put it correctly, micro expressions.’ Brulet smiled, revealing a set of perfect white teeth. ‘Psychics and clairvoyants have been aware of that for centuries.’

  Brulet’s answer had Harker realizing another trait the two brothers shared…instinct. ‘Well, this is indeed a remarkable yacht, Tristan,’ he managed.

  ‘It certainly is.’ Brulet took a sip of his own drink. ‘But unfortunately it’s not mine.’

  ‘Rented?’

  ‘No, borrowed actually,’ Brulet continued. ‘Sebastien did so love aeroplanes. I would say he spent half his life in one, either in the air or parked up at an airport. It made him feel secure, I think, whereas I cannot stand them.’

  ‘Not a fan, huh?’

  ‘Anything but, I’m afraid. It’s only trains or boats for me.’

  Brulet leant forward and lowered his sunglasses to reveal those highly distinctive eyes. The condition of coloboma had left both brothers with malformed pupils, each one in the shape of a cross. It was a genetic abnormality that had been passed down from one generation to the next and, as Sebastian had told it, the reason his family line were long seen as such important figureheads within the Order of the Knights Templar. Whether there anything godly about such an inheritance was something Harker had never really considered, but one thing was for sure: they were fascinating to see.

  ‘So I heard you ended up in a Berlin police station the other day?’

  The question took Harker by surprise, though it should not have. The Templars always had an uncanny knack of knowing about one’s comings and goings. ‘Your information is impeccable, as always, Tristan… But did you hear why?’

  Brulet was already shaking his head. ‘The details we received were sketchy at best, but apparently you were involved in an attempted murder or something.’

  Harker could feel himself flush as Tristan eyed him curiously. There was no easy way to explain the bizarre events that had occurred during the past few days, so he thought it best to start at the beginning. ‘I was giving an archaeology lecture in Cambridge when this man who identified himself as Lucas—’

  Suddenly Harker’s iPhone began to vibrate and, with an understanding look from Brulet, he retrieved it from his pocket and answered it.

  ‘Alex!’ Chloe Stanton called out in a quivering voice and, before Harker could answer, hers was quickly replaced by the familiar crusty voice of ‘God’.

  ‘Say hi to her,’ ‘God’ demanded, ‘and remain calm. We don’t want to alert anyone else to our private conversation, do we?’

  ‘Hi,’ Harker managed causally.

  ‘Good. Now I don’t want any outbursts from your end, because what I have to tell you might be a little upsetting,’ ‘God’ continued with a tinge of enjoyment in his tone. ‘There is a man standing before me with a knife held to Dr Stanton’s throat, and if you do not do exactly as you are told, he will cut her from ear to ear.’ ‘God’ emitted a sarcastic snigger. ‘So just keep your mouth shut and listen.’

  Chapter 19

  All Harker wanted to do was scream threats and obscenities down the line, but he remained calm regardless. ‘I understand,’ he replied, while shooting Brulet a relaxed smile.

  ‘I know where you are and also who you are with.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘You can tell him anything you want about your little adventure up till now, but you will omit the parts regarding any contact with myself. Nor should you make any reference to the fact that I have your pretty girlfriend in my possession. Understood?’

  Harker’s blood boiled at the word ‘possession’, and he was sure it was only being used to goad him.

  ‘Got it,’ Harker replied, glancing again over at Brulet, who was now looking increasingly concerned.

  ‘Everything all right?’ Brulet mouthed quietly.

  ‘Sorry, Tristan,’ Harker replied with a grimace. ‘It’s the university…problem with a student.’

  Brulet raised his eyebrows sympathetically and sat back in his seat, sipping at his drink, as Harker returned his attention to ‘God’s’ hoarse voice.

  ‘Ahh yes, Tristan Brulet – one of the earth’s viler creations,’ the voice continued, sounding revolted at the very mention of the Grand Master’s name. ‘The Templars have in their possession another of the Codex pages, previously thought lost to that ragamuffin bunch of Satanic zealots you keep running into. I want it. I believe it is kept in one of their famed storage vaults, along with all the general garbage they see fit to hide away.’

  The request to drag the Templars into this whole thing without being totally upfront was unacceptable to Harker, but at this point in time what choice did he have? More persuasive still was the fact that not only did ‘God’ know who he was sitting with, but that the Templars even possessed one of the pages. Of course he knew the Templar vaults held a wealth of antiquities and items collected throughout the ages, but what were the odds they would have a missing page from the Codex Gigas?

  ‘That wasn’t the deal,’ Harker replied serenely and with no hint of irritation.

  ‘No, the deal was that you would retrieve the second page before those lunatics had a chance to recite from it, and you failed miserably,’ ‘God’ hissed. ‘You do manage to get yourself into some scrapes, don’t you, Professor. Enjoy your tango with the dead?’

  That it was ‘God’ who had instructed him to follow their contact’s instructions to visit the cemetery in the first place seemed irrelevant at that moment, and therefore Harker ignored it. ‘I’ve had better experience
s.’

  ‘Right, then do your job this time, because your little blunder means this last page is now vital to stopping those charlatans.’

  ‘Leave it with me,’ Harker replied, and then the line went dead.

  ‘You sure everything’s all right?’ Brulet asked with a tilt of his head.

  Harker took another moment to take everything in. Chloe had sounded totally distraught and he now fought the urge to ‘spill the beans’ – as Carter would have put it – and tell Brulet everything. However, ‘God’ appeared to know everything he was doing…but how?

  ‘No, nothing’s all right. I mean that’s all right,’ Harker replied, indicating the mobile in his hand. ‘It was a student of mine who keeps getting herself into trouble – but nothing that can’t be sorted. It’s everything else that’s a nightmare.’

  ‘Tell me all about it.’

  Harker proceeded to recount everything that had happened, but left out those bits he had been ordered to. He covered the suicide of Lucas and the discovery of the dead man’s secret study, Spreepark and the dead man walking, the insanely disturbing impossibility of Cervete cemetery…and finally ending up with the Vatican and the horror of the monster being confined in its basement. The whole crazy tale just spewed from his mouth, and every word was expelled with such venom that Brulet looked ever more shocked with each startling admission. Once he had finished, Harker fell back into the sofa limply, as Brulet stared at him blankly.

  ‘I have seen and heard some crazy things during my life, but that has to rank top of the list,’ Brulet finally admitted, rubbing at his cheek. ‘And you witnessed all of this?’