The Last Judgement

by The Last Judgement (retail) (epub)

  ‘They always do,’ Carlu rasped, as Sofia and Mama now appeared behind him with equally unhinged expressions, ‘and you will too.’

  Chapter 31

  Since parting ways with John Shroder in France, things had not been going well for David Carter. By the time the message from Winters arrived, Shroder had already left on his fact-finding mission and although the directions had been simple – head to Athens airport and await further directions – Carter’s chosen mode of travel had been deemed unacceptable by the old man. Carter had then sent a long-winded text message explaining how, due to the Templars now being after them, taking to the air would be reckless given the organization’s ability to track all flights. They would therefore certainly get to him long before he had a chance to retrieve the final pages of the Gigas Codex.

  With his usual finesse and charm, Winters had offered a brutal choice. ‘Get yourself on the next flight out, or Dr Chloe Stanton dies here and now.’

  With little room to negotiate, Carter had done exactly that and opted for a flight from Paris to Greece. And although this had taken a while, it had been nowhere near the length of time he had hoped to stall for. On his arrival, Winters had sent him further instructions about catching a train for the next leg of his trip. This had offered Carter hope of some leeway because, in his experience, trains never ran on time. Unfortunately for him, not only had the train arrived and then left promptly, but it turned out to be a direct line with no time-wasting stops on the way.

  There was some good news to be had, though, amongst the menacing threats on Chloe’s life.

  One: the location of the pages was in a community of monasteries at a place called Meteora, which was a well-known tourist landmark, meaning there would be plenty of people around if any trouble should arise.

  Two: Winters, by all accounts, had no idea Carter was travelling solo.

  The latter consideration became the most important and, as Carter watched the Greek countryside slide past his window, he began to think further of Chloe. A woman he had never met, and had not even seen a picture of, yet here he was playing a dangerous game of cat and mouse across Europe, like in a James Bond-style spy adventure revolving at that moment around himself and his powers of deception.

  That’s right, David, Carter thought to himself, and he began feeling supremely confident and brave about his undertaking. This one’s for the ladies.

  It was about this time, as he checked out his own ‘no-nonsense look’ in the reflection from the window beside him, that he noticed a small man in a black suit standing at the far end of the carriage glancing towards him. At first he thought it was his own paranoia playing tricks, but as he stole another glance at the window’s reflection, he noticed now that the man was most definitely eyeing him suspiciously.

  Carter didn’t flinch or look directly at the man, but instead remained calm and collected even as his heart began beating ever harder. He felt sure he did not recognize the individual, but then again, why would he? For if Winters had sent someone to keep an eye on him, then he certainly wouldn’t be stupid enough to send someone familiar. Besides, given the number of people pursuing both Harker and himself, it could be anyone. The Templars or one of Vlad’s men – take your pick.

  Carter stood up and began to fiddle around beside his seat, his hands out of the man’s sight, and he hoped this would signal a relaxed demeanour, like he wasn’t in a rush. He then turned his attention to a sign with a toilet logo on it, pausing this time to indicate he was intending to use the toilet. He felt he may have overdone it because he stared at it for quite a few seconds with his forefinger pressed thoughtfully to his lips. This probably gave the impression that he was either a bit slow-witted or had a fascination with toilet signs.

  After a few seconds more of pondering, he started making his way through to the next carriage. As the connecting door closed behind him, he sneaked a glance behind only to find the same man now making his way towards him. With a light step, Carter made his way straight to the next carriage doorway. As he crossed the threshold, he heard the door behind him opening. The fellow was obviously closing in on him, and he fought the urge to run because at that moment he didn’t know if his pursuer knew that he’d realized someone was after him.

  Remarkable, Carter reckoned. He had no idea a pursuit could be so complicated, and given that the train must have been going at ninety kilometres an hour and there were only two further carriages ahead, he was going to have to think of something quick. Much to his relief, he saw a group of three teenagers approaching the next connecting door, so he stepped up his pace and reached it before they could. He then opened it and bustled on past them, so the pursuer’s view of him would be blocked, then he dived into the left-hand toilet cubicle and slid the ‘Occupied’ sign into place.

  It would only be a matter of time before he was discovered, because there was only one carriage beyond, and once the man had checked it, he would undoubtedly backtrack to the last place anyone could hide…the toilet.

  Carter scanned the grotty little stall for anything he could use as a weapon, but after finding only a half-used toilet roll, along with a dispenser well-stocked with paper towels, he began to panic. He turned his attention to the small, greyed-out window, opened only halfway, which would struggle to accommodate the girth of a pet chihuahua let alone a forty-something man with a capacious waistline.

  Behind him came a knock at the door and Carter froze with his hands held out in front of him, like a panther waiting to strike…or perhaps someone about to surrender.

  ‘Anyone in there?’ asked a deep voice with a European accent, but Carter said nothing, remaining silent and motionless.

  A few seconds passed and the knocking came again, only harder this time.

  ‘I said, is anyone in there?’

  Carter’s jaw felt paralysed and, as the knocking began for a third time, he broke out of his trance. ‘Yes, I’m having a few problems here. Do you mind?’

  ‘Yes, I do mind.’ The voice sounded more demanding with every syllable. ‘You need to come out right now or there’ll be trouble.’

  Sweat was now beading across Carter’s brow and he clenched his fist, tensed his biceps and reached over for the door lock. If this was it, then he wasn’t going to go down easily, whoever it was. He took a deep breath, flicked back the lock and then slammed his full weight against the door, sending it flying open and into the man on the other side, who in turn slammed back against the far side of the corridor.

  It was the same man in the suit that had been following him, and Carter grabbed him roughly by the shoulders and glared at him ominously. ‘Who are you?’ he shouted. ‘What do you want?’

  The fellow offered no resistance but, in one fluid movement, reached into his pocket, pulled something out and thrust it in front of him. Was it a gun? Was it a knife?

  The glint of metal was all Carter could see and he was about to reach for it when he recognized the object and immediately loosened his grip on the stranger as the instrument was jabbed towards him.

  It was a hole-punch.

  ‘Ticket, sir,’ the man explained, looking startled after Carter’s aggressive exit from the cubicle. And it was at this moment the ex-don realized the fellow was not wearing a suit at all, but rather a black uniform with a tie.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he offered apologetically, letting go of the man as he took a step backwards. ‘I thought you were someone else.’

  The ticket collector now looked angry and double-tapped the hole-punch threateningly. ‘Who did you think I was, sir?’

  ‘Oh, just an obsessive fan,’ Carter replied, retrieving his ticket from a pocket. ‘I’m a famous writer, you know, one can never be too careful.’

  This explanation for his barging out of the toilet so aggressively was crap at best, but it appeared to soothe the collector’s temper and he snipped a hole in Carter’s ticket. ‘Well, I am definitely not a fan, sir.’

  ‘Of course not. I do apologize.’

  With a grunt,
the ticket collector headed back into the nearest carriage and Carter turned to the window and gazed at his own reflection, once again feeling supremely confident and now truly relishing the adventure. ‘I hope Alex is enjoying all this as much as I am,’ he muttered, and then began to make his way back to his seat.

  Chapter 32

  ‘Welcome to my parlour,’ Carlu proclaimed flamboyantly as he pushed Harker down the creaking wooden staircase with the tip of the gutting knife pressed firmly to his back. ‘You should feel honoured at having the chance to see it.’

  There were a lot of emotions Harker was experiencing at this moment, but being honoured was definitely not one of them. ‘You didn’t call the police at all, did you?’

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ Carlu replied, prodding Harker forward. ‘There’s really no need for them, you see.’

  Following the sudden appearance of a knife in Carlu’s hand, Harker had attempted to make a break for the front door, but after a short scuffle, of which he had been on the losing end, the larger man had dealt him a blow that had literally made his teeth rattle. After being momentarily stunned, any further plan to escape had come to a swift end when Mama had broken a large flower vase over his head. Following this, Carlu had finally pacified him by holding the knife to his throat, before leading him down into the basement. Both the vicious old crone and annoyingly attractive Sofia had been ordered to stay upstairs as Carlu proceeded to give Harker ‘the tour’, as he put it. The way the man said it had sent a chill through Harker’s body, but as he was led into the area beneath the house he was consumed only with a feeling of dread. The ‘parlour’ looked like more of a dungeon than a storeroom for consumables and, as Harker surveyed the dank décor, his dread now turned into nothing short of terror.

  Twenty metres or so in length and half as wide, the parlour floor was covered in shiny grey linoleum tiles, and in the corner there was a cage with rusting bars large enough to hold a crouching prisoner. On one side a series of steel tables linked to a washbasin were bolted onto the wall, and on another a large piece of blue tarpaulin hung from it to the floor, covering something that protruded out from underneath. Next to it was a worn hospital gurney, its cracked edges displaying the foam lining it was stuffed with; for Harker this would have been the most ominous thing in the room had he not noticed something above the steel tables opposite.

  On the cracked plaster walls hung an assortment of what might have been described as gardening tools, but Harker could wager they had never been used by anyone with green fingers. A pair of shears, an axe and a saw were amongst the larger items above, with a selection of smaller knives, pliers and claw hammers filling up the bottom row.

  ‘You’re not a horticulturist by any chance, are you?’ Harker quipped in a shaky voice, genuinely surprised with himself for being able to produce such a smart-ass remark given his current predicament.

  ‘Ah, fear-induced humour, a strong quality. Keeps a man firm when faced with adversity,’ Carlu responded with a venomous smile. He pushed Harker roughly towards the centre of the room, then pressed the gutting knife lightly against his own forefinger and spun it back and forth. ‘Won’t help you here, though.’

  Harker was already eyeing the axe when Carlu began to tut. ‘You wouldn’t make it,’ he growled, then reached over and, with one hand, grabbed a folding metal chair that leant against the back wall and threw it towards Harker so it landed at his feet. ‘Sit.’

  Harker stole another glance at the axe before thinking better of it. He picked up the chair, unfolded it, and sat down as Carlu waved the knife towards him.

  ‘Good choice,’ he said, moving closer. ‘So you like my collection of trophies.’

  ‘Trophies?’ Harker glanced over at the rack of implements but Carlu was already shaking his head as he pointed upwards.

  ‘The photographs.’

  It was a bizarre way to describe them, and Harker winced. ‘You mean the dead men, all killed ritually.’

  Carlu looked surprised. ‘You’ve been digging deeply, haven’t you?’

  ‘Deep enough. I found those same death pictures back at your son’s apartment shortly after he killed himself.’

  The grin on Carlu’s face evaporated. ‘I find that hard to believe, as Simone would not have been so sloppy.’

  ‘What, to kill himself?’

  ‘No, to leave any trace of his actions. I trained him better than that.’

  ‘He left quite a few traces actually,’ Harker replied as the image of what had been left of Lucas’s head loomed in the forefront of his mind. ‘So you know that he committed suicide?’

  ‘Of course I do. I sent him to you in the first place.’

  Harker felt like he was trapped between a web of plots that he was still struggling to understand and creating in him a very real sense of claustrophobia as his breaths became shallow. From Winters to Vlad, then his band of rich friends, and finally now to this bizarre family. They were obviously all connected, but how? With great difficulty he pushed aside the fact that his own life was in danger, and instead focused on assembling the pieces. ‘I know about Winters, about Vlad, about the Gigas Codex…and I know about Judgement Day.’

  Carlu remained silent and eyed him blankly, then he crouched on his haunches while still maintaining enough distance from Harker to make any sudden attempt to rush him impossible. ‘The things I do have always been carried out with a healthy respect. When I take a life, I do it because I believe with every fibre of my being that I serve a higher purpose, and those needs are paramount.’ Carlu twirled the knife he was holding back and forth gently with his wrist limp. ‘But when the time comes, and our Saviour comes to judge their worthiness, it is impossible to say who will find redemption in his eyes and who will not. It is for this reason that I always allow them to know the reason for their sacrifice. For, if or when we meet again, who can say if an enemy will then be a friend as we sit together at the table.’

  Harker’s first inclination was that these were the ramblings of an extremely disturbed personality, but given everything he had now seen, it made a morbid kind of sense. ‘So you yourself killed those seven men whose pictures I found?’

  ‘Don’t be an idiot,’ Carlu hissed. He stood up straight, with the tip of his knife still pointing directly at Harker, and leant against one of the steel tables. ‘Do I really look like I’m over two hundred years old? There was a group who came together centuries ago, let’s call it a meeting of minds. They belonged to some of the wealthiest families in Europe, and they had just one single goal…immortality. They used their considerable resources to scour the known world, exploring and chasing every legend, every story that would further their goal. They even searched for the fountain of youth, but I am afraid I know little about that particular excursion, except it ended in abject failure. After years of toil they finally came upon a coven of witches, and it was here that they gained their first insight into stories about the Codex and its hidden knowledge passed down by Lucifer himself. In fact, the knowledge of everlasting life. The coven had at one time even held one of the sacred pages, but sadly it was stolen by a band of thieves that sought the knowledge for themselves.’

  The story resonated with Harker and he immediately thought back to Brulet’s account of the pages. They weren’t thieves, rather they were Templars, but evidently Carlu didn’t know that, or if he did he wasn’t willing to admit it.

  ‘The group then set about tracking down these pages and it was during this time that my own family entered into the fray. My forefathers were endowed with the gift of great wealth, with just a single condition – a responsibility passed on to each generation.’

  ‘A sacrifice,’ Harker muttered, finally understanding the reason for the seven murders he had been made aware of back at Lucas’s apartment.

  ‘Exactly,’ Carlu replied, now gazing at Harker longingly. ‘A sacrifice made once a generation as a show of loyalty to him who will grant us a seat as his table. It is with this role that my family has been blessed, and we h
ave carried it out for centuries, affording us wealth, luxury – and immortality when the time comes. And that time is now, for tonight the final ceremony will take place and I and my family will be present to see his rebirth, and with it everlasting life for those who are loyal to him.’

  Carlu now slid off the table and made his way closer, and Harker, sensing that was as about much as the older man was going to reveal, racked his mind for any further questions that would prolong the conversation.

  ‘So why would Simone commit suicide if you’re so close to gaining immortality?’

  ‘Once Judgement Day has been enacted, his dedication will ensure he is returned to us. His suicide is nothing more than the ultimate expression of dedication to our Lord, and don’t be in any doubt he will be rewarded for it.’

  ‘I’ve seen that reward on offer back at a cemetery in Cervete and, believe me, it’s nothing you would want for your son,’ Harker said bitterly, casting his mind back to the ghoulish zombies reborn from the Gigas pages.

  ‘Those two priests were judged and found unworthy…hell, it was I who arranged their “accident” in the first place. They could not have expected anything less after devoting their life to such a false god as Jesus Christ. But we who are believers in him who is the truth can expect so much more.’

  Carlu stopped a few paces away from Harker and tapped the knife against his own cheek thoughtfully. ‘What are the chances that I and my generation would be the ones to reach this moment? My ancestors did it, although still with a true belief, for wealth and fortune. But to think that it is during my lifetime that the Day of Judgement will occur is almost unbelievable. It is almost enough to make one believe in reincarnation…or destiny.’

  ‘So what has Jacob Winters got to do with all this?’ Harker asked, fear for his life now giving way to curiosity.