‘Land where?’ Harker demanded, scanning the tightly packed island rock where literally every centimetre of space had been built upon over the centuries.
Anthony pointed out a square patch of light just beneath the abbey itself, on the island’s second level down. ‘There’s a small lawn over there we can use.’
‘Will the authorities be OK with that?’ Harker asked as the helicopter began to descend. ‘It’s a World Heritage Site, and didn’t a major refurbishment take place here recently?’
His concern was noted and the Templar smiled. ‘Who do you think helped pay for it? Don’t worry, they’ll be fine.’
The silver helicopter descended gracefully past the imposing stone walls of the abbey and hovered briefly above the turfed lawn before descending onto its surface with a gentle bump. The high wind from the rotors sent up a spray of dust and the engines were already winding down as Anthony swung open the side door and dropped onto the grass outside.
‘Let’s go, gentlemen,’ the Templar urged politely and, needing no further encouragement, Carter exited hurriedly, followed by Harker, who instinctively ducked as the rotors continued to slow overhead.
‘What is it with you people and dramatic entrances?’ A voice with a thick French accent shouted the greeting, only just audible above the whine of the engine.
At one edge of the lawn, a man with short brown hair and wearing jeans and a pale-blue sleeveless shirt stepped out of the shadows and waved them over towards him. At first Harker thought he was smiling but, as he reached him, it became clear it was instead a look of irritation.
‘We do have a car park, you know,’ the man continued with a look of exasperation.
‘Apologies, Michel, but we’re rather constrained by time,’ the Templar replied, shaking the man’s hand. ‘No more surprises, I promise.’
‘Better not be. There’s already going to be hell to pay for this little entrance of yours,’ Michel growled, still struggling to be heard. ‘Come on, follow me.’
With Michel leading, they headed away from the helicopter and up a long walkway leading up the next level to the abbey itself. It wasn’t until the sound of the helicopter engine had died sufficiently that their guide began to talk again.
‘Now we can finally hear each other, perhaps you would like to introduce me to our guests.’
‘Alex Harker and his colleague David Carter,’ Anthony declared, allowing them all to shake hands. ‘And this gentleman is Michel Beaumont. He’s with the Manche département who administer the Mont.’
‘Yes, I know what La Manche is,’ Harker replied, ‘and it’s a pleasure.’
‘Likewise,’ Michel offered, then abruptly turned his attention to Anthony. ‘You know we normally ask that you give us a bit more of a heads-up than just a few hours.’
Anthony looked sheepish as he sought immediately to appease his counterpart. ‘You’re correct, of course, and usually, as you know, we would. But we have a rather pressing matter that requires us to gain access tonight.’
Michel appeared to think about it, more to make a point perhaps than to consider whether to refuse them, and after a few seconds gave a dry smile. ‘Very well, come on.’
With Michel and Anthony in the lead, Harker followed a few paces behind alongside Carter, who was now looking ever more mystified with every step they took towards the abbey.
‘Alex, I don’t mean to be a bore but – what the hell are we doing here?’ he whispered.
Carter had remained unusually quiet throughout most of the two-hour helicopter trip, and even during the refuelling stop in Lyon he had spent the time stretching his legs and preparing himself for the next part of the flight. Coupled with his inebriated state in the first place, the ex-don had not even asked why or to where they were taking this trip in the first place. But now he was sobering up and, with the long brisk walk to the Mont’s summit it was clear that he was finally ready to know more.
‘And weren’t we on a boat or something earlier?’
Carter’s apparent mental blackout had Harker chuckling. ‘The man we met on the boat is a friend of mine,’ he explained, not wanting to give too much away. ‘He’s a collector, of sorts.’
‘A collector of what?’
‘Historical artefacts,’ Harker replied. ‘And he may be able to help us with the Gigas pages.’
‘Really. How so?’
There was no need to tell Carter all about the threatening phone call he had received from ‘God’, and so Harker kept it simple. The ex-don was already having a difficult time dealing with their earlier adventure, and the last thing he needed was to be given another reason to resume drinking again.
‘Our good friend “God” gave me another call, and he now wants us to find the final page.’
‘There’s another page! Jesus, what’s this one going to contain?’ Carter shuddered as if unnerved at the thought. ‘Not another raising the dead incantation, I hope.’
‘I don’t know, but amazingly it’s preserved among my friend’s rather extensive collection which he keeps here at the Mont.’
‘That sounds like a coincidence too good to be true,’ Carter gasped, starting to breathe heavily as the long trek up to the abbey began taking its toll.
‘I know,’ Harker muttered quietly. ‘That’s what’s worrying me.’
It took five minutes to reach the Mont’s highest level, and by the time they arrived Carter was red in the face. ‘My constitution’s not made for this kind of thing,’ he puffed, and received a pat of encouragement from Harker.
‘I think we’re almost there,’ Harker said as he watched Michel approach a steel-grated door built into the abbey wall. He unlocked it with a long metal key and headed inside, with Anthony on his heels.
‘I bloody well hope so, or you’re going to have another corpse on your hands.’
‘Don’t worry, this is it,’ Harker reassured him.
The room itself was large but Harker found himself instantly disappointed at the shabby and dusty state of it. Extending in rows were wooden shelves spanning the room’s entire length, each copiously loaded with boxed items and each individually identified with a serial number handwritten with a black marker pen. There were only a couple of rusting wall lights for illumination, and the smell of a decomposing rodent only added to the musty atmosphere.
‘This is a bit of a shithole,’ Carter declared flatly, then he reached to touch a box on the nearest shelf, whereupon the cardboard began to flake. ‘You do realize just because you’re storing ancient antiquities, it doesn’t mean the facilities have to be ancient as well?’
His sarcasm was met with silence from Michel, who now closed the door behind them and made his way back to join Anthony next to the wall on the far side of the room.
‘Contained here are some of the most important historical relics and objects ever retrieved. They have been collected for over a millennium and, besides,’ Michel proclaimed defensively, ‘they say you should never judge a book by its cover.’
‘Not sure I even want to read that particular book, if I’m honest,’ Carter continued before receiving a subtle dig in his ribs from Harker. ‘Steady on, Alex, I’m just saying—’
‘It looks fine to me,’ Harker interrupted, now just wanting to find the final Codex page and get out of this dusty and rank-smelling room.
Michel pressed his hand against the wall next to him and a small square panel sank in and then slid downwards to reveal a shiny oblong pane of black glass about the size of a sheet of A4 paper. ‘Give us some credit, would you?’
Michel next placed his palm against the glass, and a solid green light shone downwards, like that from a photocopier. This light then disappeared and a monotone female voice sounded from the panel. ‘Fingerprints confirmed. ID accepted.’
With that confirmation half of the wall slid away to reveal a black steel walk-in lift with dimmed uplighters embedded in the floor, lightly illuminating its dark interior.
‘Gentlemen.’ Anthony gestured. ‘Take you
r places, please.’
Harker wasn’t sure if it was the surprising presence of the lift or just the pervasive stench of dead rat hanging in the air, but he suddenly felt giddy. This is more like it, he thought, and he took his place alongside Carter at the back of the lift before Michel and Anthony joined them. The doors then closed and they began to descend slowly.
Their short journey was made in silence, which only served to fuel Harker’s feeling of anticipation, and he found it impossible to wipe away the large grin which his lips were forming.
He had heard titbits of information concerning the main Templar vault, but to be seconds from experiencing it had him more than a little excited. As the doors opened up again he found all the worries and concerns that had twisted his stomach in a knot were simply fading away.
‘Welcome to the Mont vault, gentlemen,’ Anthony announced as the Templar exited the lift and moved to one side, allowing Harker to get his first glimpse.
The huge warehouse-sized space had a fifty-metre lane running down its length, and as Harker made his way onto a grated steel platform with shiny chrome handrails running around the edges, he realized it was actually far bigger than that.
There were six lanes in total and, as he looked down from the raised platform, he could see that on either side of each lane were sturdy-looking shelving units, all holding a vast array of items. Even more interesting was that many of these items were encased in either glass or Perspex boxes which enhanced the protection of what must have been the centuries-old objects they contained.
‘The temperature of this entire facility is strictly regulated, ensuring that moisture damage never becomes an issue,’ Michel explained, pointing towards the rows of transparent cases. ‘We also encase some of the more fragile items in hardened Perspex containers, and individual suction pumps create a vacuum to avoid any decay.’
‘Now this is definitely not a shithole,’ Carter said jovially as he joined Harker at the railings.
‘Good to hear it,’ Michel remarked, clearly pleased his unexpected guest was having to eat his words.
It was indeed an impressive set-up, but that was not what was on Harker’s mind. ‘How on earth did you do this? I mean, we’re directly underneath the abbey, right?’
‘Yes, about thirty metres down within the core of the rock itself,’ Anthony explained.
‘No, I mean, how the hell did you build this without anyone knowing?’
‘Come. I’ll tell you as we walk.’ Anthony was already beginning to make his way down the steps which led from the platform down to the main floor.
Just then Michel called out after him. ‘I’m going back up to the surface,’ he explained as he stepped back into the lift ‘We usually have a few days’ notice to ensure we minimise the risk of anyone seeing us enter this place but, given your paltry two-hour heads-up, it’s possible there are a few tourists wandering around who are staying overnight in the first-level hotels.’ Michel tapped at the lift button and waited for the doors to close. ‘Anthony, I will see you again when you’re finished. Au revoir.’
‘Thanks again, Michel,’ Anthony managed to get in before the doors closed. Then he continued down the stairs, his two guests hard on his heels, and began to answer Harker’s last question. ‘Firstly, the entire rock that Mont-Saint-Michel sits on is composed of granite, so its natural hardness enabled such a large cavity to be excavated and yet still maintain its structural integrity. But it still needed a remarkable feat of engineering to make it happen.
‘What truly made it possible, and what not many people know, is that this first-floor space was carved out sometime during the medieval period. The exact date is not known, but when the Mont became a military outpost during the Hundred Years’ War, the French army excavated this large underground area. Some say it was intended for additional food storage in case the opposing English managed to lay sea siege. Others believe that it was meant to become a hideaway for troops if the Mont was ever overrun; the idea being that, once night-time approached, the concealed French troops could take the English by surprise and reclaim the rock.’
‘What do you think?’ asked Harker, fascinated by this piece of lost history.
‘Honestly, I don’t know,’ Anthony replied as he continued to lead them along towards the furthest aisle, ‘but what I can tell you for sure is that the Templars discovered it in the mid-eighteen hundreds, and then sought to increase its size. It was perfectly possible as it was then overseen by the Catholic Church and, although formally banished and disbanded by the Church, the Templars still had many ties with clergy throughout the world. Of course, the real renovation came when the Mont was later refurbished, during which time we secretly added another floor.’
‘Wait,’ Carter exclaimed, grasping Anthony by the shoulder and bringing him to a halt. ‘What do you mean, the Templars?’
Anthony shot Harker a look of surprise at this, and not only did Carter notice but he was now eyeing Harker mistrustfully.
‘Why do I feel like I’m the only one here who is not in the loop?’ Carter complained, and the question was directed solely at Harker this time. ‘So who exactly are these “friends” of yours, Alex?’
On their way to Brulet’s yacht, Harker had given some serious consideration to bringing Carter up to speed regarding his association with the Templars but, given the ex-don’s personal obsession with all things conspiratorial, he had decided against it. What’s more, up until about three seconds ago, he’d really believed he was going to get the through this without Carter even getting a whiff of anything other than the smell of whisky on his own breath. However, Anthony’s slip-up was likely to dash that hope to dust.
‘Perhaps I should leave you two alone for a moment,’ Anthony suggested gingerly, and he pointed over to the final aisle. ‘I’ll be over there when you’re ready.’
As he went off, Harker prepared himself to drop a bombshell on Carter, and he knew his friend was going to love it. Possibly too much, but who knew? Maybe his excitement at the prospect of discovering that such a legendary group still existed, centuries in the making and steeped in the kind of history that he loved so much might have a majorly positive impact on him – it might even curb his drinking. At least until Chloe was safe. The only really troubling aspect was how Brulet might react. Harker had been instructed that it was his own decision as to which people he saw fit to tell about the Templars but, given the Grand Master’s initial reaction to Carter, he wasn’t sure his choice here would be welcomed.
‘Do you still have your whisky flask on you?’ Harker asked.
‘Silly question – of course I do,’ Carter replied, pulling the slim metal container from his back pocket, then holding it out in front of him. ‘Need a tot, do you?’
Harker took the flask and, with a gentle shake, realized it was only about half full, maybe a couple of shots’ worth. ‘As a matter of fact, I do.’
He unscrewed the cap and took a measured swig, then passed it back to Carter. ‘Now finish it off.’
Carter was taken aback by this order, but more than happy to comply, so he downed the liquid, screwed the cap back on and was about to put it back in his pocket when Harker wagged a finger at him.
‘Now give it to me.’
Carter looked unhappy at the request as he continued to grip the steel drinking flask in his hand tightly, almost lovingly.
‘David,’ Harker said sternly, taking an intimidating step closer, ‘if you want to know what this place is and who my friends really are, then the cost is no more drinking.’
‘What, ever?’ Carter spluttered, more than a little freaked out by the very concept.
‘Until we find Chloe, however long that takes,’ Harker insisted, still reaching out for the flask. ‘If you’re coming along with me, wherever it takes us, then we have to do it as a team and that means having you at your best.’
Whether it was the reminder of Chloe’s predicament or the suggestion of being part of a team, Harker wasn’t sure, but Carter’s defiant
glare began to soften and, with an involuntary gulp, he passed over the steel flask.
‘Very well, Alex,’ Carter conceded, and he cleared his throat and stood up straight like a man preparing himself for action. ‘But if this is going to take us days and days, then I only ask that you allow me a small nip from time to time, or else I’m going to get sick.’
It was a sad truth to confess and Harker felt a pinch of sorrow for his friend, but he dismissed this emotion immediately. If Carter stopped drinking even for a short while, then his liver would surely benefit, which meant he could drink even more when he started up again. Of course, this was a nonsensical argument, but it did vanquish any feelings of guilt Harker had on the subject as he slipped the container into his inside jacket pocket with a nod of his head.
Carter assumed a look of fresh determination. ‘Now why don’t you tell me exactly who these people are?’
Harker braced himself because he knew Carter was likely to flip upon hearing the news. The man had long been obsessed with the idea of mysterious, secret societies, and now he was about to hear actual proof of their existence. Harker felt extremely proud to be among the ranks of the Order of the Knights Templar, but it was only recently that he had come to actually consider himself truly part of it all rather than an outsider who had just stumbled across them by chance. It was with this feeling of fully belonging that he now began to explain everything to Carter. In truth he had practised this speech many times in his head, and now finally he had a chance to deliver it.
‘I am part of a brotherhood spanning a millennium of human history. Our mission is to protect the downtrodden of every race and creed from those evilly intentioned individuals who would seek to control humanity from the darkest of shadows.’
‘The Freemasons?’ Carter suggested. Then his eyes twitched excitedly as he guessed again. ‘No, the Illuminati?’
Harker’s expression went blank and his shoulders slumped. ‘Look, do you want to hear this or not?’
Carter looked instantly apologetic. ‘Sorry. Please continue.’
The Last Judgement Page 17
