Relics

by Relics (retail) (epub)

  Maddocks, meanwhile, was smiling innocently. ‘Yes, my friend, that object is over two thousand years old and probably the Catholic Church’s most prized and secretive possession. The crown of thorns that Jesus Christ himself was forced to wear on the day of his crucifixion.’

  Chapter 13

  Father Reed glanced up at the wall clock hanging above the doorway leading to the north corridor and let out an impatient sigh. He had spent over an hour watching this entrance and was beginning to feel foolish. In fact, this whole idea seemed more idiotic with every passing second. After all, he was meant to be discreet, and this was turning into an obvious stake-out. The thought made him smile, yet still he had to admit that Cardinal Rocca’s odd behaviour was worth checking out.

  Dr Marques had already given him a brief tour of the corridor, which turned out to contain a series of storage rooms for the entire academy before heading back to his lab, immensely keen to see if his assistant, Elmo, had managed to subdue the electric eel. Reed had been surprised to discover that all the refurbishment was indeed finished and, judging by the build-up of dust, it had been completed a while ago. Yet the rooms were still completely vacant with no furniture except some wall paintings.

  So why was Cardinal Rocca spending most of his time there in the academy’s empty storage facility?

  The clock above him struck 4.15 p.m., and Reed let out a small yawn. He was getting tired of this, and in his frustration, he could only hope that the gossipy Dr Marques was in the process of getting another electric shock from his slippery nemesis.

  With the last shred of his patience finally evaporating, and sick of this waiting game, Reed stood up, shaking off the stiffness in his muscles, and was about to leave when, up ahead, the sound of leather-soled shoes echoed along the corridor, coming towards him. Reed briskly stepped a few metres back and squeezed himself into the gap between a sagging potted fern and the wall. Within seconds, Cardinal Rocca appeared, rushing past him and continuing towards the same doors that Reed had been scrutinising for so long. Without so much as a pause, Rocca undid the lock and disappeared inside.

  Reed immediately made his way to the closed door and placed his ear to its surface. There was nothing but silence. He paused for twenty tantalising seconds before deciding to take a chance and follow the cardinal inside.

  Gently opening the door, he quietly made his way into the north corridor itself. The passageway was empty, and he instinctively stifled his breathing in an attempt to detect better any sounds. He half-expected to be suddenly confronted by a surprised and angry-looking Cardinal Rocca, but the corridor was empty and silent except for a faint buzzing from the overhead strip lights. Doors lined its fifty-metre length, providing access to numerous storerooms.

  Where the heck had he gone to so quickly?

  Without warning, fifty metres further along the passageway, the first strip light suddenly went out. Reed narrowed his eyes in an effort to detect any movement ahead, but there was none. Now the second light along went out, followed by the next and then the next. The approaching wall of darkness seemed to take on a life of its own, surging down the corridor towards him as if with purpose.

  Reed could feel his palms begin to sweat as his fists clenched, and he was unable to move from the spot. This wasn’t the first time he had been in such an unnerving situation, and he hoped it wasn’t about to be his last.

  The final strip light went out above him, and pitch-blackness enveloped him as if something tangible was trying to suffocate him. He was still fighting to control this irrational fear when he heard a scuffling sound from somewhere ahead.

  ‘Hello, anyone there?’

  His involuntary question bounced back at him through the gloom, the scuffling audible no more. Then, without warning, he felt a sharp pain at the base of his neck. Reed reacted just in time to feel the syringe needle withdrawing from his punctured flesh. He attempted to grasp for his attacker, but a cocktail of drugs hit his nervous system, and the priest’s legs gave way. He sank heavily to his knees, both arms lolling helplessly at his sides, before finally slumping across the floor in a heap.

  As Reed’s mind began to cloud over, he heard a calm voice whispering to him from the pitch-blackness.

  ‘Tsk, tsk, tsk, you know how rude it is to spy on people. Very rude indeed.’

  The corridor lights flickered back on, and Reed’s pupils struggled to contract themselves enough to allow him a somewhat blurry view of his attacker.

  Standing directly over him, Cardinal Rocca was staring down with an expressionless face.

  ‘I’m sorry, Father Reed, but you’re going to have to take some time off. But don’t worry, you’re in safe hands.’ A manic grin spread across the cardinal’s face. ‘Unfortunately, you chose the wrong side, my friend. That’s a shame because you could have been useful.’

  Chapter 14

  ‘I don’t believe it! It has to be a fake.’ Harker peered closer, examining the crown of thorns from every possible angle. ‘I don’t suppose Archie carried out a carbon test, did he?’ His question was half in jest, although he couldn’t stop himself from glancing upwards in the hope of an answer.

  ‘If he did, he didn’t tell me. But it is genuine, of that I’m sure.’

  ‘How can you be so certain?’

  Maddocks raised his chin confidently. ‘It is a matter of faith.’

  ‘Isn’t it always.’ Harker had never been keen on blind faith, believing it caused as many problems as it solved.

  The priest eyed him as teacher would a schoolboy. ‘Ah, yes, Archie informed me of your own waning faith. Very sad.’

  The last comment struck a nerve in Harker, and his face began to flush. ‘It’s not my faith in God that’s waned, but my faith in the people that serve him.’

  The comeback was deliberately cutting, and Maddocks raised his eyebrows in clear disappointment. ‘I’m sorry you feel that way, Professor, but …’

  Harker cut him off mid-sentence. ‘Don’t be. It’s just the way it is. Now can we get back to this?’ He pointed down at the engraved box containing the thorny crown. ‘If this is genuine, it’s the greatest Christian find … well, ever.’

  Father Maddocks gave a sad nod of his head. ‘Maybe yes, but I just don’t understand how Archie could have been persuaded to steal it from the Vatican, where it rightfully belongs. And, more importantly, for whom?’

  Harker carefully closed the wooden lid and sat back against the stone-built wall once again, his taut muscles now pain-free because of the adrenalin rush of excitement he was experiencing. He wasn’t sure how trustworthy this Father Maddocks was, but Archie had gone to much trouble in bringing them both together, and that counted for a lot.

  Within five minutes, he had told his new acquaintance everything about Mr Caster and the company called Maptrel, his surreal meeting with Brulet and the man’s bizarre appearance, the cheque for £250,000, the secret project the Vatican had been working on since the ’70s, and the accidental deaths surrounding it. He told the old priest literally everything.

  Maddocks said nothing throughout. He just sat there listening intently, his face totally unreadable, as Harker now moved on to his personal suspicions.

  ‘And I now believe that Brulet’s company, Maptrel, is the same organisation that convinced Archie to steal this thing in the first place, but how or why is another thing altogether?’

  As they both pondered the possibilities, a single thought cemented itself in the forefront of Harker’s mind. In all the excitement of discovering this priceless artefact, he had managed to overlook one of the most important things Maddocks had said.

  ‘Wait a minute, you said relics in the plural. What else did Archie take?’

  The Father shook his head helplessly. ‘I don’t know exactly because he wouldn’t show us, but he had another, similar box in his possession.’

  Harker struggled to take in what he was hearing. ‘Hold on a second, you’re presented with possibly the greatest Christian relic of all time, and you weren�
��t even a little curious about what the other box might contain?’

  Maddocks gave an innocent shake of his head. ‘I didn’t even look in this box here until after Archie had committed suicide.’ He pursed his lips disdainfully as if just saying the word was wrong. ‘Archie merely said this box was of “great importance” and that was good enough for me.’ The old priest straightened his posture, his expression defiant as Harker stared at him doubtfully. ‘Trust in a friend is a virtue, Professor, not a sin. I trusted Archie more than I do you, that’s for sure. At least his faith remained intact.’

  The two men stared at each other for a few moments in an awkward silence, and Harker could see that priest was being totally honest. For some people, complete trust of a friend tends to dampen one’s curiosity, and the old man was obviously one of those people. It was also becoming clear that Father Maddocks had no real idea what to do next and was actually looking to Harker for direction.

  After a few more uncomfortable seconds, the priest finally opened his mouth, ‘So, what next, Professor?’

  Harker took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘I’m not sure, but if Brulet and his cronies are behind all this, we don’t have many choices. I’d like to take the crown back to England for safe keeping, but if they murdered four defenceless handicapped kids just to get Archie’s attention, then they won’t have any issues in killing me either.’ Harker gently patted the wooden lid. ‘So that leaves us with either the police or the Vatican, and if Brulet is half as wealthy and powerful as he claimed to be, then he could easily have informants within the department on the take. So that, as much as I hate to say it, leaves us with the Vatican itself.’

  ‘Good, I think that’s the right choice,’ Maddocks agreed.

  Harker nodded reluctantly. ‘OK, let’s get Claire and head there immediately. The sooner we get this on Vatican soil, the better.’

  He turned the handle and swung open the door, only to be met by an eerie silence. ‘Claire?’ Harker called out as the two men made their way from the private chamber and into the now vacant room outside. They had only made it a few paces when they were hit by an odd yet familiar smell. Harker turned back to see Father Maddocks wrinkling his nose.

  ‘What is that?’

  The old priest lifted his nostrils to the ceiling and inhaled a deep breath. ‘Smells like burnt chicken and wet dog? Yes, very disagreeable indeed.’

  Harker was drawn towards the flickering glow of the open fire as he followed the stench to its point of origin. But what he saw there stopped him dead in his tracks. Amongst the bluish flames dancing upon the glowing embers rested the decapitated head of Father Valente, perched on two wooden logs, his hair melting into small beads of liquid that trickled in sticky trails down the now blackened skull. The man’s lower jaw hung open unnaturally, and small holes had begun to appear in his cheeks where the flames had burnt through the thin flesh and were now licking intensely at the roof cavity of the priest’s mouth.

  Harker tried not to retch, his stomach turning, as he found himself staring into the dull, milky-white eyes of father Valente that were now cooking in their sockets like two boiled eggs.

  ‘Oh, dear God!’ Maddocks spluttered out the words as shock began to take hold, his hands trembling violently. A movement in the corner of Harker’s eye made him swing around in time to see the door of the room slowly closing behind a large silhouette that became more distinct as light from the fire penetrated the darkness.

  Drazia Heldon stood almost seven feet tall, wearing a long, dark overcoat that missed skimming the floor by only a few inches. Beside him lay Claire Dwyer, her eyes wide open in panic, her hands and feet bound with a plain nylon rope.

  Harker tugged at Maddocks’s black tunic, and the old priest turned around from witnessing one appalling image to the next. The shock caused him to freeze, his hands shaking with an even greater frenzy than before.

  ‘Father Maddocks, you’re a tough one to track …’ Drazia bowed his gigantic head as if in acknowledgment of the fact, ‘… but not impossible.’ He turned his attention to Harker. ‘And of course, many thanks to you, Professor. In truth, I don’t know if I’d have found him if it weren’t for you.’

  The giant’s voice was impossibly deep, and his accent was European, maybe Serbian, Harker thought. ‘You and the lady …’ Heldon pointed a thick oversized finger towards the writhing body on the floor that was Claire Dwyer. ‘You were both easy to trail from that cafe to the residence, then to the orphanage, and finally here.’ His large, piercing amber eyes now turned their interest back on to Father Maddocks. ‘If you please … the item.’ The assassin clicked his fingers towards the wooden box tucked underneath the priest’s arm. ‘Bring it to me.’

  Harker glanced at Father Maddocks and shook his head. ‘Don’t do it, Father.’ ‘Be careful, Professor,’ Heldon growled, placing the sole of his black leather brogue firmly on to Claire’s neck. ‘It would be a shame if you forced me to kill her and then take the box anyway. You can’t win.’

  The old priest nodded in acceptance, but, before he could take a step forward, Harker scooped the box out of his grasp and then, in one swift movement, held it directly over the flaming fire with its lid open.

  ‘You let her go now, or I destroy what you want most. You can easily reach me but not before this crown goes up in flames. Now let her go.’

  Heldon grinned from ear to ear, revealing an unsightly row of chipped, blackened teeth. ‘So you know what it is,’ he sniggered. ‘You are Professor Alex Harker, once a wearer of the sacred cloth and a man with an unshakeable belief in right and wrong. You’ve spent most of your career searching for relics just like this, so do you really expect me to believe you would destroy it so easily? I think not. Now give it to me, and you may all keep your pathetic lives. But if you persist in this charade …’

  The hulking leviathan gave a shake of his right arm, which had been hanging limply at his side, and in a split second, a foot-long razor-sharp sword sprung from further up his sleeve and snapped into place on the back of his hand.‘… then everyone dies regardless, starting with her.’ He gently stroked the tip of his blade menacingly against Claire’s tear-soaked cheek. ‘Just think that the entire filthy Dwyer bloodline could end right here, right now.’ Drazia grinned once more, the pleasure he was taking from this situation palpable.

  Before Harker could reply, Maddocks snapped into action. ‘You son of a bitch,’ he screamed, his face turning scarlet with anger. ‘You murdering scum, you killed Father Valente, a good man, my friend, a man of God. How dare you desecrate this holy place with your evil!’

  The towering assassin’s mouth opened sarcastically. ‘Your friend was no man of God. He was a fake just as are you with your corrupted beliefs. He deserves no respect, Maddocks, and neither do you. You are rotten to the core, like the rest of your kind, wrapped in a cloak of deceit and lies with only one wish: your own selfish preservation. You should know that before I killed your friend Malpuso, he only asked one thing of me: to spare his own life. Not to spare either of yours but just his own.’ The monster smirked grimly. ‘He died like he lived – as a coward.’

  Without warning, Father Maddocks propelled himself towards the giant, screaming at the top of his voice, with his hands flailing wildly. He had barely taken a step forward when Heldon thrust his blade through the old priest’s neck, impaling him on the razor-sharp weapon without a moment’s hesitation.

  Harker watched in horror as Maddocks shuddered, his hands slicing themselves on the blade as he tried to pull himself off the red-stained spike of metal protruding from his own throat. After one final quiver, his body went limp, and he expelled a gurgling sound as blood trickled from his gaping mouth.

  Claire was already screaming, her eyes bulging above the piece of cloth tightly gagging her mouth. But she went quiet again on receiving a swift boot to the head from her captor.

  Drazia Heldon stood motionless, his arm and blade still extended. Satisfied that Maddocks was dead, he gave
another shake of his arm and the sullied blade retracted back into the sleeve as quickly as it had emerged, allowing its impaled victim to drop to the floor with a heavy thump.

  ‘He didn’t have to die today, but that was his choice. Do not make the same mistake, Professor. Now, before I lose my patience, give me the item.’

  Harker could feel his veins pumping as his heart raced. This monster was going to kill both him and Claire; they’d witnessed too much. ‘OK, OK, you can have the box. But first let the woman go.’ He was surprised at how firm and confident his own voice sounded. ‘Let her go, and it’s yours.’

  Drazia eyed Harker thoughtfully before finally nodding in agreement. ‘OK, I’ll accept that.’ He hauled Claire up by the shoulders, undid the slip knot and gave her a little push towards Harker.

  ‘Now, Claire, you go out the front of the building and get the hell out of here.’

  With merely a nod, she was taking off down the corridor, only glancing back at Drazia, who pursed his lips to blow her an intimidating kiss.

  ‘Don’t go too far now, little one. You and I have unfinished business.’ The assassin returned his attention to Harker. ‘Now, Professor, no more wasting time. Give me the relic.’

  Harker raised the box away from the fire and closed the lid. ‘You work for Brulet, don’t you?’

  The brute looked uninterested. ‘It’s not important who I work for or why.’ A grimace spread across his face as he realised what was happening. ‘This isn’t a Bond film, Professor Harker, where I now reveal everything to you.’ He began to move forward, both his arms outstretched to cut off any escape. ‘This is real life, and the thing about real life is …’ he stopped within reaching distance, his sword once more snapping into place ‘… it’s not fair.’

  No sooner had he finished the sentence than Harker threw the box towards the wall on his left, causing the giant to instinctively lunge after it with both hands. In the same instance, Harker launched himself through the gap between the assassin’s long legs, sliding across the shiny, well-worn stone floor and out the other side. Within moments, Harker was on his feet and sprinting through the door and into the corridor, feeling a whoosh of air rush past his left ear as Drazia’s arm-blade narrowly missed its target.