Harker couldn’t suppress a wide grin. ‘I told you this was big.’
Doggie reached over again and lovingly stroked the top of the wooden casket. ‘So you are saying this is part of a secret history lost in the sands of time for over two thousand years? A part of history the entire Western world was founded on? And now it’s right here in front of us, ready to be brought in to the daylight once more.’
The dramatic turn of phrase was typical of the dean, who, it seemed, was already coming up with a press release, much to Lusic’s displeasure.
‘Gentlemen, might I remind you this item does not belong to us but to the private collector you spoke of?’
Doggie almost fell off his seat at the remark. ‘If this turns out to be whatever Alex thinks it is, then it belongs to no one and to everyone, which means it belongs to us just as much as to your collector friend.’ He turned his attention towards Harker, his eyes beaming with possibilities, and ran a trembling hand through his greying hair. ‘Well, Alex, I think you should open it up. Let’s see what we’ve got here.’
The excitement was infectious, and once more Harker’s stomach was buzzing. He delicately grasped the container’s small metal key and, with a creak, carefully opened the lid till it was upright.
The interior of the case was lined with fresh velvet that must have been part of a recent restoration, and a strong waxy smell of pine instantly spread throughout the aircraft cabin. In the very middle, sealed inside a now familiar vacuum-packed transparent plastic case, lay a single rectangular piece of wood no more than six inches long and about eight inches wide.
Doggie tugged at one corner of the container, trying to get a better look, and was immediately dealt a sharp slap across the wrist by Lusic.
‘Easy, Dean.’
The swipe restrained him, and, instead, he craned his head sideways for a better view.
Harker meanwhile picked up the plastic case and ran his fingers across the length of the object inside it. The piece of wood had blackened around the edges – no doubt as a result of age – and one end of it had been cut off with a saw.
Scanning the uneven surface, he began to make out a series of markings or symbols carved across it. In many places, the engravings had worn away completely leaving only abrasive scuff marks, but some of the characters were still legible, and Harker soon began to recognise them.
‘They’re words,’ he stated confidently, ‘or at least they were.’ Harker pointed to the visible text. ‘They’re a mixture of Hebrew, Latin, and Greek, I think.’
As he traced the lettering with his fingertips, Doggie and Lusic remained silent, their breathing becoming shallower, neither man wanting to disturb Harker’s train of thought as he attempted to visualise the original texts.
‘OK, there are three lines of writing,’ he summarised. ‘The top is in Hebrew, although in this condition, it’s difficult to make out complete words, the same for the last line in Greek but’, he tapped a finger against the middle sentence thoughtfully, ‘the one in Latin I can just about make out.’
Harker ran a finger across each faint letter in turn. ‘There’s a capital I followed by a lowercase S, then a capital N and a capital R followed by a lowercase E and an X … IsNRex?’
As the other two men crowded over Harker, each jostling one another for a better look, it suddenly dawned on him exactly what he was looking at. The strip of wood had been severed just after the X, and had it not been for the discovery of the thorn crown earlier, Harker wouldn’t have twigged so quickly. ‘I think I know what this is.’
Both men fixed their attention on Harker as he considered the possibility. Could this really be what he thought it was? After all, the crown of thorns had already blown a hole in his sense of rational, so should this be anything less?
‘Well, Alex, you bastard, don’t leave us in suspense,’ Doggie blurted out, rubbing his hands together impatiently.
Harker swivelled the object around so it was facing them and pointed out the three letters in turn. ‘Only focus on the capitals, OK. That’s an I, an N, then an R. Now, look closely, after the X, the wood has been cut away, so we’re missing the last piece of the sentence.’
Lusic remained silent, not wanting to reveal his ignorance in front of the dean, who, was looking just as clueless. ‘Are they initials?’ Doggie ventured.
‘No, they’re the first letters of words, on a rectangular piece of pine wood, dating back to the era of Tiberius.’ Harker said, trying to coax the answer.
A blank and frustrated look continued to hang about Tom Lercher’s face.
‘God, Doggie, you should know this! Especially considering the Rex part.’
Lusic raised his eyebrows sarcastically, at the dean’s lack of knowledge, whilst surreptitiously trying not to get the question directed his way.
‘Add on an I where the wood’s been cut off, and you get INRI!’ Harker eyed him encouragingly, but he could tell that his old friend still had no idea what he was talking about. Still, it did not stop the dean from appearing shocked and even mouthing the word INRI dramatically through his tight quivering lips as Harker explained further.
‘When Jesus Christ was crucified on the hill of Golgotha, two items made him stand out from the other crucifixion victims that day. The first was the crown of thorns that a Roman soldier placed on his head and the other was a sign nailed to the foot of the cross which read, – Iesvs Nazarenvs Rex Ivdaeorvm – INRI – which in Latin translates as “Jesus of Nazareth the King of the Jews”.’ He looked down at the fragment of wood lying in his hands. ‘The sign has been chopped in half at some point, but, two thousand years later, here it is.’
Lusic reached over and carefully took the relic into his own hands, bowing his head respectfully as he did so. ‘Yes, I know of it, and keeping it out of the wrong hands now is all I’m concerned about.’ The bulky German was beaming with pride. ‘We’ll be eternally honoured for this.’
He then passed the relic to Doggie, who took it in his arms and gently pressed it to his chest. As he lovingly gazed down at the engraved words, tears began to form in the corners of his eyes.
‘Yes, we will, my German friend, but more importantly, we’re going to make a bloody fortune!’
Chapter 31
Cardinal Rocca burst into his office at the Academy of Sciences with such force that the door handle struck the wall behind with a loud bang, making his waiting visitor jerk upright in his seat.
He glared over at Genges with a judgmental scowl before more calmly closing the door behind him and making his way over to the mahogany-wood desk, ready to confront his younger brother. ‘You already know that this day has been so very long in the making. Perhaps forty or fifty years,’ Rocca began, settling into the leather-padded armchair and resting his hands on the wooden arms like a troubled monarch. ‘Reflect on the time, the effort, the patience, not to forget the hundreds of millions of dollars we’ve invested in anticipation of this moment.’
Genges said nothing, fully aware of where this conversation was heading, as the cardinal rubbed his brow and let out a deep sigh of frustration.
‘When that imbecile Archibald Dwyer stole those items rightfully belonging to the Magi, it almost ruined our plans, jeopardising the most significant event in over two thousand years. So when I entrusted my own brothers with the crucial task of retrieving our property, I felt confident.’ He stroked his chin bitterly. ‘No, I felt certain that you would get things back on track. And now two weeks on, you are sitting here in front of me, and only one thought keeps running through my mind.’ Rocca’s nostrils flared, his whole body twitching. ‘How did you two idiots manage to fuck everything up?’
Spittle flew from the cardinal’s mouth as he actually shouted the words. ‘I’m actually totally surprised you even dared to enter my office. And where the hell is Balthasar anyway?’
‘He’ll be joining us shortly,’ Genges replied, not wanting to bring up the men’s carelessness that Balthasar had mentioned; his brother was furious enoug
h. ‘There have been many complications that could not have been anticipated.’
Rocca cut him off, ‘Oh, yes, the ex-priest. A professor no less – quite the fucking action hero that one.’
The sarcasm in Rocca’s voice stirred a frisson of rage in Genges, and he struggled to maintain his temper, his jaw clenching ever tighter. ‘He had help from Brulet whom – as I might I remind you, Cardinal – we disposed of earlier this evening.’
Rocca’s face immediately calmed at this mention of the Grand Master of the Templars. ‘And that’s been your saving grace, Genges: the death of our enemy and the payment of a blood debt. It has undoubtedly landed a damaging blow on them. Well done! But I’m sure you can see that it does not help with our predicament, and I’m also sure you understand why I am so angry.’
The tension in Genges’s face subsided, and he nodded shamefully. ‘I know, and for that I’m truly sorry, but Balthasar should not have put so much faith in that idiot Heldon.’
Rocca settled back into his seat, somewhat chastened by his brother’s comment.
‘Yes, that was a definite mistake. Drazia is only truly useful when butchery or macabre violence is needed – scare tactics, but that’s all. He should never have been entrusted with such an important task, and allowing himself to be caught by the British authorities is inexcusable. To use him at all was a bad call.’
‘He would not have been my choice, that’s for sure.’
Rocca greeted the statement with a dismissive flick of his hand. ‘However, luckily for you, I have everything in hand, and our inside man is proving himself a most useful tool. As we speak, a plan has been set in motion to bring both relics back to us within the next few hours. So you need no longer feel quite so concerned.’
The cardinal sat back in his chair. ‘Therefore, feel ashamed of your own failure, but take consolation in the thought that your brother is taking care of everything you yourself were unable to achieve.’
Genges forced a grudging smile. Apart from enduring the stream of criticism that Cardinal Rocca was dishing out, he was furious at having to change his own strategy at the last minute because of Heldon’s failure. It meant his team going dark until after the main event, and he didn’t like that one bit. To be out of contact for so long was dangerous, especially after the assault on Brulet’s hideout following which every policeman in the area would be out searching for them. ‘Then, if you have everything in hand, as you say, why did you request the presence of both myself and Balthasar here at the Vatican?’
A thin smile crossed Rocca’s face as he let the question hang in the air, his expression challenging Genges to hazard a guess. When none was forthcoming, he shrugged his shoulders. ‘My dear Brother, the reason is simple. I don’t want either of you screwing things up any more than you already have.’
This response set Genges’s jaw muscles tensing again, but he kept silent, his eyes never breaking contact as the cardinal stood up before making his way to the door.
‘Now, Brother, follow me. For our destiny awaits us – and the birth of a new world order.’
Chapter 32
‘This is not about personal glory, you garlic-stinking, Bavarian sausage-gobbling weirdo! This is about protecting two of the Christian faith’s greatest relics.’
Tom Lercher sat back regally in his seat and watched the German digest this insult through taut lips. ‘A find of this magnitude belongs in an institution worthy of it, and Cambridge University is one of the oldest and finest in the world.’
Lusic looked on with contempt as Doggie raised a forefinger towards the cabin ceiling and proclaimed, ‘Good God, man, Cambridge produced Sir Isaac Newton, not to mention the very foundations of science itself!’
The Templar’s lips puckered condescendingly. ‘Oh, yes? And what has it done for the world lately?’
Doggie’s reddening cheeks quivered, and his fingers whitened as he gripped the seat’s leather armrest. ‘My young German friend, if we’re going to trade insults, then allow me to delve into my Nazi repertoire. I can assure you it won’t disappoint.’
‘I just don’t get it!’ Harker’s unexpected remark brought their bickering to a sudden halt.
‘What do you mean you don’t get it? The man’s a bloody Kraut!’
Harker ignored the dean’s jibe and gently placed the vacuum-sealed bag containing the wooden artefact on to the table, patting it broodingly with his fingers. ‘I mean why this relic? Look at the crown of thorns. It’s a universally known treasure, cause for celebration, but this fragment …’ His words trailed off, his gaze still fixed on the piece of wood. ‘It just seems a bit, well …’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘… unworthy, don’t you think?’
Doggie looked aghast. ‘I’d hardly call it unworthy, Alex!’
Harker shook his head. ‘The crown of thorns is a central feature in the account of Christ’s demise. The Bible makes significant reference to it, but the sign INRI is barely mentioned. It’s not integral to the story, just a footnote really.’
‘It’s still an important piece of history worth protecting,’ Doggie insisted, as Lusic gave a nod of agreement. ‘You see, even Lusic gets that!’
The Templar shrugged off this latest slight with a roll of his eyes, clearly not wishing to continue with the pointless bickering he had allowed himself to be drawn into earlier. Harker meanwhile picked up both relics and placed them on to the table side by side.
‘Archie’s message said that the Vatican had other items relating to Christ’s life hidden away. In fact, he said there were so many that an entire team was set up to preserve and care for them. But he also said that these two relics were the most prized of all, and it seems to have been that way for decades.’
Doggie leant forward, a deep frown developing across his forehead. ‘Sorry, old boy, but I’m not exactly sure I know where you’re going with this?’
‘Think about it, Tom.’ Harker placed one hand on the sign and the other on the crown. ‘If you had so many items pertaining to Jesus, which ones would you prize amongst all others?’ He tapped both items questioningly. ‘The crown of thorns? Without a doubt.’ Harker now turned the focus of his attention to the dark fragment of two-thousand-year-old pinewood. ‘But a sign put up by a Roman soldier with little mention in the story of Jesus related afterwards. It’s just strange. If Archie was correct, then they must have possessed far more precious relics than this one, yet these two are the ones our opponents want most of all. Why?’
The other men’s eyebrows rose simultaneously as this oddity finally became apparent to them.
Harker held the tight-fitting plastic container in his hands and carefully traced the lettering inside as if merely touching the relic would provide him with an answer. ‘Lusic, you must know more about what’s going on here than I could ever hope to. Feel like sharing?’
The bulky German sucked in a deep breath and sighed heavily. ‘I’m sorry, Professor, but I was never made privy to the ultimate motives of the man I work for. Neither do I have any knowledge that would help provide an answer to your question.’
Harker stared deeply into the German’s eyes, searching them for any hint of a lie. After ten years in the priesthood, he had grown rather good at spotting an untruth in a member of his congregation – a flicker of the eye, a dilation of the pupils, maybe a split-second loss of direct eye contact. They were all signs that a person was lying – not definitive proof, of course, but a good starting point. As he stared into the Templar’s near black pupils, he saw nothing to suggest the man was any less confused than he was. ‘No, I don’t suppose you do.’
Lusic gave an unhappy grunt, glanced at his watch, and stood up. ‘Well, if that’s all you want to ask me, I’m going to check with the pilots about what time we’re due to arrive in Rome.’ He disappeared into the cockpit, closing the door behind him with a distinctive slam.
‘He’s a bit of a baby really, isn’t he, Alex?’
Harker gave his old friend a firm punch on the arm. ‘Nazis! Honestly, Doggi
e, what a stupid thing for you to say.’
‘My dear boy, if someone attacks me verbally – or physically – then I strike back.’ He adopted a Churchillian pose and pointed a finger up to the ceiling. ‘And I make no apology for striking back with vigour.’ He held the pose for a moment before settling back into his seat with a smug grin.
‘Yes, Doggie, you’re quite the little soldier.’
The dean let out a grunt and sipped at his mini-can of slimline tonic water before delicately placing it down on the table with all the finesse and poise he could muster. ‘I know you’re being sarcastic, Alex, but you’re right nonetheless. I’m a natural fighter, and I wish you’d stop calling me Doggie. Now I need to spend a penny, where’s the loo?’
Harker pointed to a sealed-off section towards the back of the plane.
‘Right, I’ll be back in a moment.’ Lercher rubbed his midriff uncomfortably and made his way towards the toilet door. ‘In case I forget to tell you later, this is all terribly exciting. Thank you for involving me, Alex. It means a great deal to me, it really does.’
The comment brought a smile to Harker’s face as he watched his old friend struggle with the toilet’s safety lock. After all, it had never been his decision, for as usual, Doggie had involved himself.
Dean Lercher gave one last hard tug on the steel-panelled grey door, and, without warning, it flew open, throwing him back against the cabin wall. As he repositioned his glasses, the sight that appeared in front of him made him jump back quickly, smacking his head once more against the cabins interior. ‘Oh, my God!’
Perched like a stuffed animal on top of the plastic toilet seat was the blood-soaked body of John Caster. His lifeless eyes were wide open and his hands tied with a cord to the disabled users’ bar directly above, causing his head to loll grotesquely to one side. Underneath his chin, a deep knife wound ran from ear to ear, revealing the glistening white cartilage within. His tweed waistcoat was spattered red with drops of clotted blood originating from the thick gash in his throat, and it had also left trickles running down his neck which looked like roots burrowing themselves into the depths of his chest. Harker had to clamp a hand over his mouth to stop himself gagging.
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