The Last Judgement

by The Last Judgement (retail) (epub)

  ‘And how about that woman who changed her mind?’ Harker replied, referring to the one Carlu had cut down after she expressed second thoughts.

  ‘Well, you can’t please everyone, can you? Besides, nineteen out of twenty isn’t bad in my book.’

  To Harker, Wilcox had proved himself again and again to be a psychopath of the highest order, therefore he should not have been surprised at the callous tone on display, but he could only be astounded at the complete lack of a soul in the man, or even the merest ounce of decency. ‘So this was all about a simple robbery?’ Harker exclaimed, shaking his head at such a mundane motive. He had never felt fully convinced that the Devil was going to put in an appearance, but between bodies rising from their graves and cardinals turning into demonic monsters, he had been tugged back and forth in his mind about what was possible and what was not.

  ‘A simple robbery!’ Wilcox looked disgusted at the description. ‘Because of you, the Magi have been left flat broke and with nothing. If you know another way to make half a trillion pounds in assets and shares, then by all means speak up.’ Wilcox looked affronted, and he began to breathe as heavily as his weak lungs would allow. ‘The money we have acquired will allow the Magi to regain their power. We will become a force to be reckoned with once more, but this time, with your help, we will do it unimpeded. Vlad, would you fetch it out please?’

  The other man disappeared behind the red drapes and returned, a few moments later, carrying a thick leather book which he placed in Wilcox’s lap. The weight of it elicited a wince of pain but he maintained a satisfied smile as he opened it and began to read.

  ‘Here is inscribed the name of every Templar which we will now liquidate, and we have you to thank for that. You see, I told you, Vlad, that getting Alex involved was a good idea. We never could have acquired this without him.’

  As Vlad made a conciliatory bow, Wilcox began tapping his finger against the page. ‘I’ve only had enough time to flick through these Templar curios since there are so many volumes, but did you realize the name Harker comes up quite a lot?’

  Tristan Brulet had once mentioned how he had been mentioned in the Illuminismo, and at the time he had taken some pride in that, but now it sounded more like a damning indictment of his failure to protect everything the Templars held dear. More like a death note than a footnote. ‘Yes, I do know.’

  ‘Really?’ Wilcox continued. Licking his lips, he looked up with a searching expression. ‘I didn’t know your name was Liam.’

  ‘Liam?’

  ‘Yes, Liam Harker. He appears a lot in the more recent records.’

  Harker looked dumbfounded, and Wilcox was clearly delighted to be making the revelation. ‘Your father?’

  Harker was momentarily at a loss for words and the insinuation had him feeling light-headed. ‘My father was indeed Liam Harker, yes. But he wasn’t a Templar.’

  ‘Well, that’s not how this book tells it,’ Wilcox replied, and he licked his finger and turned the page. ‘Your father appears to have played quite a role.’

  Harker’s mind was buzzing. His father had worked for most of his life in a chicken factory, for Christ’s sake, and had lost his life in an IRA bombing back in Belfast. His father, a Templar?’

  ‘Brulet never told you that, did he?’ Wilcox laughed maniacally and slapped his palm down on the open page of the Illuminismo. ‘Oh, this is too much. What a delicious betrayal of trust.’

  Harker’s shoulders sagged and he stood there in stunned silence as Wilcox looked down at Brulet’s limp body and pointed his finger at him. ‘You lying little devil, Sebastian. Perhaps we have more in common than I could ever have believed.’

  Vlad now joined in the laughter and their condescending mirth incensed Harker as his shock quickly turned to anger. Was that why Brulet had always appeared so giving and open with him regarding the Templars? And why he had been allowed access to so many secrets that it would have taken decades for most to learn? Was he actually a Templar by birth?

  ‘I knew there must be a reason I always hated you so much,’ Wilcox continued, his frail body still quivering in delight at having unearthed such a personal truth. ‘It’s genetic, in the genes, so we were enemies from the start, and we didn’t even know it…priceless. I wonder who killed him, then? It wasn’t the Magi, but if it had been, well, what a turn-up for the books that would have been!’

  Harker’s head was brimming with questions, but for all he knew, this was just a psychological game that Wilcox wanted to torture him with, so with great difficulty he pushed it to the back of his mind. In all the madness of Wilcox’s master plan to essentially mug a bunch of rich people, Harker focused now on the only question that had been eating at him since his arrival here. As Wilcox flicked through the pages of the Templars’ highly treasured Illuminismo, he sought to address that. ‘You still haven’t answered my question, John. Why drag me and my friends into all this?’

  ‘I understand, Alex, that this must be a big shock to you, and I am happy to move on for the time being. We have all the time in the world still to discuss your family issues.’ He continued scanning through the book, page by page, then he stopped, looked up and his eyes turned steely and cold. ‘Simple, Alex, it’s because I hate you more than any other person I have ever met, and so I wanted you to suffer like I myself have suffered. You are now hated by all those you care about. The police are after you, which would be a worry enough, but must seem trivial given that you have apparently betrayed your Templar allies, who will track you down – and I suspect would have killed you had you not made it to this island. Imagine that: death at the hands of your own family! Your girlfriend and, of course, Mr Carter will suffer greatly at the hands of my men before they die, and at the end they will wish they had never met you. You, like your good friend Mr Brulet here, will suffer unimaginable pain and degradation till eventually you beg me to have you killed. I will additionally have that old fart Dean Thomas Lercher murdered in some terrible way that has not even occurred to me yet.’ Wilcox hissed at him through brown clenched teeth. ‘By the time it’s all over you will wish you had never been born and, within the annals of Magi history, your name will become synonymous with the pain that is inflicted upon those who would cross us.’

  The words sapped Harker of his strength and his body wilted. Vlad raised his arm-sword and rested the tip up against Harker’s throat. ‘We’re going to get to know each other very well during the coming weeks and months,’ Vlad said with a snarl. ‘And I must say that I am very curious to see how long it will take to break you.’

  He began to nudge the blade harder, until Harker felt the tip break the skin, then the pressure was released. Vlad suddenly pulled back and stared over Harker’s shoulder, scanning the amphitheatre as his face became ashen. ‘What is that?’

  In the distance what looked like a star flickered in the night sky, and it was quickly joined by others which spread out in a line high up in the air. Each of the lights started to wobble from left to right and, with every second that passed, they grew in size as they drew closer. A low-level humming could now be heard, getting ever louder as the lights grew brighter, then a single beam of shone directly onto the stage, where Harker raised his hand to protect his eyes from the intense glare.

  Vlad snatched the Motorola walkie-talkie from his belt clip and began shouting into it as a tremendous downwash of air blew dust from the amphitheatre floor up onto the stage, which left Wilcox wrapping his arms around his face protectively.

  ‘All units, breach detected, converge on the amphitheatre now.’

  The noise was now deafening and reached a climax as two Sikorsky UH-60 Black Hawk stealth helicopters hovered overhead. The doors slid open and black nylon tethers dropped to the ground, like dangling vines, as a voice crackled out from above.

  ‘John Wilcox,’ the voice boomed and, through the slits between his fingers pressed against his eyes, Harker caught the sight of Tristan Brulet leaning out of one helicopter with a handset pressed to his mouth. �
��It ends here.’

  Chapter 41

  The sound of sporadic gunfire rattled around the amphitheatre as Harker slammed his shoulder into Vlad’s sternum, sending them both tumbling backwards onto the stage’s floor with a hefty thud. Behind them, scores of uniformed men in full black assault gear slid down the helicopter tethers and formed a circle around the landing area as, over at the ground exits, a tide of the Magi’s island guards began to pour inside. It was organized chaos, and except for the arriving force’s plain black face masks, it was near impossible to tell one side from the other.

  Harker pulled himself to his feet and rushed at Vlad, slamming his full weight against the man’s shoulder, but it barely made an impression and he was thrown backwards, with the wind knocked out of him. He rolled onto his front then rose up on all fours, waiting for the momentary paralysis in his lungs to pass, as Vlad now lurched forward and kicked him in the ribs and flipped him onto his back. Out of the corner of his eye, Harker could see Wilcox being rushed by one of the guards to the rear of the stage, who then propelled him behind the heavy red drapes with such force that the old man was nearly toppled from his chair.

  The dark tint of unconsciousness began to cloud Harker’s vision as finally his lungs began to work properly again, giving him a massive head rush. He nevertheless sprang up into a sitting position and sucked in a deep breath, his ribs aching, just in time to receive a punch across the cheek which sent him back onto the floor.

  Vlad grasped him tightly around the throat and began to press down with his full weight. ‘If it’s over for me, then it’s over for you too,’ he spat, manoeuvring his knees on top of Harker’s arms to prevent him from fighting back. ‘I should never have allowed our Lord to involve you in our affairs, but I will at least have the opportunity now to rectify that mistake.’

  The flashes of gunfire down on the amphitheatre floor began to intensify and, although Harker could see yet more soldiers dropping from the stealth helicopter, none of them had noticed him – because if they had, surely someone would have shot the man attempting to strangle him. The Magi home team was obviously putting up one hell of a fight, drawing all the newcomers’ attention, and as Harker watched the helicopter glide away, only to be replaced by a new one which began to drop off more soldiers, he realized he was going to die no matter how many troops arrived. There was no way now they would reach him in time, and he began to feel himself slipping away.

  For the second time in just as many minutes, Harker’s vision began to fade as unconsciousness beckoned him. But with his last remaining strength he twisted his head towards Chloe, still hanging from a crucifix and staring back at him. She nodded to him, then looked over at something else, then right back at him. As Harker’s whole body began to tingle while Vlad constricted his throat with yet more force, he gazed up at the killer and then, as his eyes began to glaze, he caught the blurry image of something close, something white. Then an arm swished down and connected with Vlad’s head, and his grip loosened and he fell to the floor beside him.

  The release of pressure on his throat caused Harker to momentarily black out as blood rushed back into his brain. When his vision returned, he could discern only the shapes of two glistening crosses.

  Sebastien Brulet knelt over Harker with a relieved smile and let drop the thick Illuminismo volume from his hands, before he grabbed the hunting knife from Vlad’s belt sheath and plunged it deep into the back of the killer’s neck. ‘Choke on that, you sick bastard,’ he managed to utter over the buzzing rotors, as the helicopter dropped off the last of the troops. He stared down at Harker and his eyes widened. ‘Alex?’

  With that the Grand Master collapsed on top of Harker, who, still choking after his attempted strangulation, grabbed onto the man and stopped him from rolling onto the ground. ‘Nice to see you too,’ Harker yelled over all the commotion, and he glanced over at the amphitheatre floor, where he saw Tristan Brulet staring towards him with his mouth hanging open. Surrounded by masked soldiers, he was oblivious to the bullets zipping past him. As his protection unit continued firing back at the considerable number of Magi guards who had now taken up position on the steps surrounding the arena, the younger Brulet pulled himself up onto the stage and dashed over towards the pair of them.

  ‘Oh my God,’ he huffed, as some of his soldiers followed him before crowding around the three of them protectively. ‘You’re alive.’

  Sebastian made no response, and his eyes twitched as his brother pulled him upwards and, in a commanding tone, shouted to the nearest soldier. ‘Get him to safety, now!’

  The soldier nodded and, with help from three others, made a shield around him and carried him off one side of the stage and out of sight as, deeper in the amphitheatre, the battle raged on.

  ‘You’re not going to kill me, are you?’ Harker asked, having to raise his voice over the all the noise.

  ‘I never was going to kill you,’ Brulet replied. ‘How the hell did Sebastian get here?’

  With everything going on around them and Wilcox making a run for it, Harker had little time to explain anything now. ‘I’ll tell you everything – but we don’t have time now. I need you to protect my friends.’ He pointed over to Chloe and Carter and, without hesitation, Brulet issued orders to one of his men, who in turn began organizing the remaining five members of Tristan Brulet’s protection unit. Splitting into two squadrons of three, they split and approached the two crosses. In no time Carter was cut down, followed quickly by Chloe, but as they were dragged off the stage and away to safety elsewhere on the island she struggled against the three men in a bid to get back and join Harker.

  He gestured emphatically for her to get out of there, and reluctantly she stopped resisting her escort and, with a final look of concern, she disappeared around one side of the stage.

  ‘Thank you,’ Harker shouted while rubbing his sore neck. ‘Now I’m going after Wilcox.’ He motioned towards the rear of the stage.

  OK,’ Brulet replied without need of encouragement, and then pulled a Beretta from a concealed holster and placed it into Harker’s open palm. ‘Do you know how to use this?’ he asked, and Harker nodded. ‘Good,’ Brulet said and extended one hand so his arm-sword clicked into place. ‘Then let’s bring this matter to a close, shall we?’

  Leaving the ongoing conflict in the amphitheatre behind them, and with Harker in the lead, they pushed past the red drapes to find nothing but a stone wall. The only way forward appeared to be a flight of steps heading downwards, like the entrance to a wine cellar.

  ‘Let’s take this slowly,’ Brulet cautioned and, with a nod from Harker, they began to descend.

  Overhead light fixtures lit the way, and as they went deeper, the air grew stale. At the bottom they were confronted by a thick metal door that had been left wide open.

  ‘Not very secure leaving it open,’ Brulet remarked, tapping the metal surface with his sword.

  ‘Forget the door, Tristan. I want to know how Wilcox got himself down all these stairs in a wheelchair so quickly.’

  The two men exchanged mystified glances and then, with Brulet taking the lead, they headed through the open doorway.

  The room they entered was one of the most unwelcoming and uncomfortable sights imaginable. It looked like a prison, as a series of cells were spread out in a grid formation, with pathways running in between them so as to surround each cell on all sides. Stranger still, the cells had no bars but were instead made up of thick Perspex boxes, around eight foot by eight, with a single letterbox-sized opening covered by a grille with a padlock on it. The Perspex was frosted, meaning it was impossible to see inside, and these cube-shaped cells stretched as far as the eye could see.

  ‘What on earth?’ Brulet muttered, approaching the nearest cube and then walking all around it. ‘No door… Someone doesn’t want anyone looking in.’

  ‘No,’ Harker corrected, ‘someone doesn’t want anyone looking out.’

  At one side of the room a monitor flared up and Harker moved over
to check it out. The touch screen displayed a graphic image of forty square boxes, and with an encouraging nod from Brulet, he tapped the first in line, labelled H1. The frosted glass of the cube nearest to them suddenly became clear, revealing an empty interior.

  ‘Whatever was once in there is long gone,’ Brulet observed, taking Harker’s place and tapping each box icon in turn as, one by one, the cubes in front of him began to clear. By the time the last cell had been triggered they had a clear view all the way to the other side of the room and towards an open doorway leading off into another part of the facility.

  ‘It’s like someone’s own personal zoo,’ Brulet suggested, ‘minus the animals and with little or no care for their well-being.’

  ‘It’s not a zoo, but a lab,’ Harker stated, and he returned his attention to the touch screen and to the three icons that had appeared next to each of the boxes. These consisted of a water droplet, a lightning symbol and, finally, a fire sign. He pushed at the droplet icon and water began to spray down inside the nearest box. ‘A warning?’ Harker queried, then he pressed the lightning icon, whereupon the crackling of an electric current began to emanate from inside the cube. ‘A punishment?’

  By this point Harker already knew what the last button would do but he pressed it anyway and the entire interior of the cube was consumed by a hot fireball which, although it looked hot enough to melt steel, did not blacken the Perspex walls one bit. ‘Game over.’

  ‘God almighty,’ Tristan gasped out loud as Harker directed his attention to the ‘H’ labelled inside each box.

  ‘Human 1, Human 2 and so on,’ Harker explained in disgust. ‘Wilcox said they did human testing, and he wasn’t lying.’

  Neither of them spoke a word as the gravity of it sank in, then Harker headed along the nearest path in the direction of the doorway on the other side of the room.

  Brulet followed close behind. ‘Test on humans, for what?’