Relics

by Relics (retail) (epub)

  The nurse carefully tucked in his blankets and made her way back to the door. ‘I wasn’t given a name, but it could be. Enjoy,’ she said sympathetically with a wink before leaving to continue her rounds.

  Doggie had been a constant visitor to his bedside since being admitted to the hospital. At first, it was a comfort to have his friend keep him company, discussing their amazing adventure as the dean referred to it, but, after a month, they had both run out of things to say, so they just kept rehashing the same old conversations over and over. To say it was becoming tedious was a complete understatement.

  Harker pushed the unappetising plateful to one side and reached for the remote control, turning up the volume and focusing his attention once again on the Sky News report he had been following.

  ‘And so closes the latest chapter of the Vatican scandal that has rocked the Catholic Church to its core. Authorities are still at a loss to explain the events leading up to the shooting of Cardinal Giuseppe Rocca inside St Peter’s Cathedral a little over a month ago. The reason for Cardinal Vincenzo’s abduction and Cardinal Rocca’s connection with a string of murders is still shrouded in secrecy as Church leaders in the upper echelons of the Vatican continue to remain tight-lipped about the whole affair. What’s even more worrying still to millions of devout Catholics is the disappearance of Pope Adrian VII himself soon after the shooting. Despite efforts by both law-enforcement and religious officials alike, the ex-Pope has yet to be found and still casts an ominous shadow over the inauguration of Cardinal Salvatore Vincenzo as supreme pontiff more than two weeks ago. Pope Gregory XVII, as he is now known, was formally president of the Vatican’s Governorate, which oversees all the Church’s finances and state security. After his abduction by Cardinal Rocca, his strength and leadership in recent weeks ensured he was a favoured candidate for the papacy and many have since welcomed his liberal thinking as an important means of bringing many back into the Catholic fold by promising reform. It is for this reason Cardinal Vincenzo took the same name as Pope Gregory VII, who was famed for purifying the Church during the eleventh century after its clergy had fallen into disrepute. But, with the previous Pope’s disappearance still a mystery and the investigation into Cardinal Rocca’s dealings yielding few results, many are expecting a difficult road ahead for the Catholic Church. In connected news, the policeman who initially linked Cardinal Rocca to these crimes and was himself there on night of the shooting has once again made a general plea for anyone to come forward with information as to the identity of a suspect who committed suicide in a Rome jail on the same night.’

  The report flicked to a clip of Superintendent Perone, surrounded by Dictaphones and gruffly waving his finger. ‘No matter what it takes, the police will identify this dead boy and trace his involvement with Cardinal Rocca.’ Behind him, Detective Angelo Barbosa watched on silently as his boss continued to stress the point.

  ‘Because no one is above the law. Not even a cardinal.’

  Harker pressed the mute button, deciding he had heard enough. After being dropped off almost half-dead at the entrance of the Ospedale Santo Spirito, just a mile from Vatican City, he had fallen into a coma and had stayed that way for over week. After finally waking up, the doctors had informed him that if the blade had penetrated an inch to the left; it would have pierced his heart and killed him instantly.

  ‘You’re lucky to be alive, Mr Harker. It seems someone up there is keeping an eye on you.’ The truth of the comment had not even registered with Harker whose thoughts had been, and still were, wholly preoccupied with the safety of Maria Genova and her child, if it had survived. Were they OK and where were they now? Those were questions he could not voice out loud, even to Doggie.

  Once he was safely on the mend, Superintendent Perone and his assistant had paid him a visit, but nothing had come of it. Since the arrest of Drazia Heldon by the British authorities, many of the murders Harker had been originally accused of were now attributed to the Magi hit man. The giant brute had been confronted on his way out of the museum, shooting at a policeman whilst attempting his getaway, and had been finally wrestled to the ground by no less than ten uniformed police. There were still been many unanswered questions, but the superintendent had been persuaded that Harker had not been directly involved. He also mentioned the heat he had been getting from the top brass to leave the Cambridge professor out of his investigation: a parting gift from Brulet and a testament to the Templars’ power around the globe. In fact, the only authority that had interviewed Harker, apart from Perone, had been the FAA regarding the downed jet in Lake Bracciano. Doggie had diverted most of the attention for that one, and the crash was judged to be an unavoidable accident. They even went so far as to hail Harker a hero for bringing the aircraft down without loss of life. No one was even aware of the death of John Caster, as his body had mysteriously disappeared from the wreck, and the pilot’s body, when recovered, had been recorded as having suffered a heart attack that set off the series of events leading to the crash.

  The Templar organisation, it seemed, had not kept itself off the radar for hundreds of years just by chance, and something Brulet told him back at the villa had proved it. ‘The Magi and Templars are unified in one cause and one cause only – to keep their respective existences hidden from the rest of the world.’

  That was clearly the truth, for even Genges’ body had disappeared mysteriously from the Teutonic cemetery, and no trace of blood had been found anywhere. To cap it all off, when the authorities had subsequently searched the Academy of Sciences, the secret entrance behind the portrait of Isaac Newton had been filled in with cement. Even though the police were keen to excavate it, the Church had refused and that had been that. Harker had not even mentioned to anyone the underground Magi headquarters, so, at first, he was puzzled as to how the authorities came to know of its existence, but after hearing on the news that a cardinal priest had also survived a shooting on the same night Cardinal Rocca had died, it all made sense. Father Reed’s military training had served him well, and he had managed to make it out of the necropolis and into the open before the Vatican police found him. His survival was one piece of news that Harker had welcomed wholeheartedly.

  Superintendent Perone had tried to question him about the underground den, but he had kept his mouth firmly shut, and after the Church had closed ranks around Father Reed, the story had disappeared. Harker’s own silence, unfortunately, had not been emulated by Doggie, and he had only just managed to convince his old friend to keep quiet about the two organisations, much to the Dean’s frustration. ‘How can we keep it quiet, Alex? The people of the world deserve to know. Two secretive organisations fighting a war in the shadows for the direction of Christianity for well over a millennium, my God man, how can we not say something?’

  Harker had to illuminate the dean on the danger to his life, not from him but at the hands of the same shadowy organisations he threatened to expose. Doggie had eventually agreed to keep quiet but not without a caveat. ‘I won’t say a thing, but I want your word that you’ll keep me in the loop for the future. If you discover anything new, I want your word that you’ll tell me.’

  Harker had agreed, even though the promise was a lie in itself. If Doggie were to discover the full extent of the Magi’s plans regarding the Christ child, he would never have been able to stay silent, whatever the danger, and there was no way Harker wanted Doggie’s welfare on his conscience.

  He took a long sip from his box of juice and mulled over the fate of the young Maria Genova. He remembered seeing blood on her dress just shortly before losing consciousness. Did it signify a miscarriage? Had the child been lost? After over a month with no further word from Brulet, it was a question that would have to remain unanswered, at least for now.

  He felt his stomach spasm at the thought of knowing so much and yet so little. It would be difficult to simply go back to the world of archaeology which now appeared somewhat inconsequential to him. But he was reassured by a single thought. Imagine how much
else there might be waiting to be discovered?

  A sharp knock on the door distracted him from such thoughts.

  ‘Come in, Doggie. I’ve been expecting you,’ Harker called out, though dreading the same old thread of conversation that now awaited him.

  The door swung open, and a tall man in a black suit and trilby hat quietly entered the room.

  ‘Professor Alex Harker?’

  The sight of the man in front of him and his startling green eyes almost made Harker drop his juice box. His visitor was of a formidable size, and Harker was already reacting to the alarm bells sounding off in his head. Trying to remain as nonchalant as possible, he scanned his table tray for any suitable weapon but saw only the plastic cutlery. He grabbed the knife and pointed it at the stranger. It was merely a symbolic gesture since the blunt utensil could barely penetrate his steak, let alone a man’s chest. Harker suddenly felt like a complete berk.

  ‘Yes, I’m Alex Harker. What do you want?’

  The man removed his hat to reveal the familiar-looking silver-coloured hair that immediately put Harker at ease. Surely, this man was a Templar.

  The visitor placed the trilby to his chest and offered a courteous bow. ‘I come to you with an invitation from an old friend of mine – and a new friend of yours. There is a car waiting downstairs to take you to a meeting with him.’ The messenger hesitated for a moment as he scrutinised the patient. ‘If you have not sufficiently recovered from your wounds, I have been instructed to arrange a more suitable time.’

  The man had hardly finished his sentence before Harker was hopping out of bed, on to his feet and heading for the wardrobe. ‘No, I’m ready to go.’ He reached in and pulled out a shirt and trousers. ‘How long will it take to get there?’

  ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you that.’

  Harker hurriedly pulled on a pair of socks. ‘OK, well can you tell me where we’re going?’

  The Templar once again shook his head. ‘Sorry, Professor, I can’t do that either.’

  Harker stripped to his waist, threw on a white shirt, and then began to undo the button on his green hospital trousers, stopping just short of revealing his modesty. ‘Well, how about giving me some privacy. Can you do that?’

  The hefty Templar smiled. ‘That, I can do.’

  Chapter 52

  The smooth buzz of the Mercedes Benz’s engine calmed Harker’s frenzied thoughts as the vehicle made its way through the narrow streets. It was the first time in a month that he had even been outside the hospital, and the experience was making him feel light-headed and dizzy. On the streets outside, Rome’s residents were going about their daily business, and he realised how much he had missed the routine of daily life. The car paused to let a couple of priests make their way to mass, followed by four youngsters dressed in the white robes of choirboys. It was sights like this he had missed during the past month, the vibrancy of a city and its people.

  As the Benz sped up again, it suddenly dawned on Harker that this was a Sunday, confirming that he had totally lost track of the days whilst recovering from his injuries. He glanced at his watch, which read 11 a.m. All over Rome, people would be making their way to mass in one of the nine hundred Catholic churches spread across the city, and the idea of all that activity created a warm feeling in his chest after a month of complete boredom.

  The car turned left along an avenue crowded with such people, and he wondered if they had any idea of the battles taking place all around them – battles for their very faith and beliefs. If they could be made privy to the ongoing war between the Magi and the Templars, and how Jesus Christ had almost walked the earth for a second time, how would the Catholic world … no, the Christian world take it?

  The Mercedes pulled up at the end of a side street, and his guide opened the door and ushered him out on to the pavement. Harker took a moment to gaze up at the building in front of him. He recognised it immediately as the church of San Benedetto, one of the smallest in Rome, tucked away just off a main road. He had visited it many years ago with Archie, and both had been impressed by the majestic sculptures that adorned the interior and exterior of such a seemingly small, insignificant edifice.

  ‘This way, Professor,’ the Templar beckoned, and Harker followed his escort through the imposing entrance doors and into the church itself, where ten people occupied the two tiny pews as a grey-haired priest took his position in front of the altar.

  ‘It’s just down here,’ the Templar whispered, pointing out a set of steep, narrow steps leading down to a lower level. ‘I’ll be waiting up here to take you back to the hospital.’ He noticed his guest’s look of uncertainty and once again pointed downwards. ‘Please, you’re expected.’

  Harker cautiously descended the steps. At the bottom, he found an open doorway, where a voice he knew all too well called out to him. ‘In here, Professor.’

  Harker entered to find himself in a room bigger than the church itself upstairs and was immediately greeted by the familiar sight of a pair of chic aviation sunglasses that glinted as Brulet marched towards him and shook his hand. ‘Well, you definitely look much better now than when last we met.’

  Harker let go of the handshake and lifted his shirt to reveal the fresh bandages strapped across his chest. ‘I even have a souvenir to remember you by.’

  The Grand Master gave a deep laugh. ‘Quite so, my friend, and what a souvenir it’s going to be! Please take a seat.’

  Harker sat himself down on the simple wooden chair opposite Brulet, wincing at the pain of his healing wound. The souvenir was still pretty raw.

  ‘Well, Alex, with your help, we’ve landed a major blow on the Magi, but be under no illusions that they’re not out of the picture by a long shot. There are plenty of other family members seeking to fill the empty positions Genges and his brothers have left behind. I can assure you that John Wilcox will be already planning his next move, but, thanks to you, we now know who he is, and that means he won’t be able to slip by so easily without being noticed. It also helps to have purged the mole from our own organisation, whose help to the Magi cause is well and truly over.’ Brulet gave a satisfied smile.

  ‘You mean Lusic?’

  ‘Yes, and believe me when I tell you that his days of spying are at an end. To cross your own brothers in arms deserves the worst punishment imaginable, and that nasty little traitor cost the lives of many Knights’ good men who died because of his lust for power. He, unfortunately, escaped in all the confusion, but we’ll find him. After all, the world is a small place when you’re on the run.’

  His answer was unsettling, and it reminded Harker how little he knew about the man sitting opposite him. ‘You’re not going to kill him, are you?’

  Brulet looked genuinely offended. ‘We are not common murderers, Alex. The Templars believe in fairness, justice, and the truth above all else. We leave the grotesqueries of human nature to the Magi. But when one of our own betrays us in the way that Lusic has done, then it must be treated as an exception, and there are worse things on this earth than just death.’ Brulet’s eyes narrowed cunningly at the thought before he changed the subject. ‘Well, what a world you now find yourself in and what a story lies behind it. It’s a shame you can never tell anyone.’ He winked, and, for a moment, Harker had a horrible feeling he was about to be executed on the spot. But Brulet noticed the stiffening of his body and reached over to tap him reassuringly on the shoulder. ‘My dear, Professor, the Knights Templars do not reward their friends with violence. And you have proved yourself to be a very trustworthy ally even if you have spoken about us to your friend Dean Lercher.’

  Harker froze again. Was there anything Brulet didn’t know?

  ‘No matter, because without proof, it is just hearsay. But …’ The Grand Templar raised a white finger to his lips. ‘That’s where it ends. The truths you have learnt must stay a secret. Understand?’

  ‘I understand, but …’ He could hardly bring himself to ask the question. ‘There’s one thing I need to know
. Did the mother and child survive?’

  Brulet stood up and pushed open a door just to the right of where they were sitting. ‘Why don’t you see for yourself?’

  Harker pulled himself out of the chair, ignoring the ever-throbbing pain in his chest, and made his way over to the doorway. There, in a comfortable-looking armchair, sat Maria Genova in a flowing white dress. In her arms, she cuddled a baby with wispy black hair and olive-toned skin.

  ‘She doesn’t remember anything much and we have decided to leave it that way for the moment. In time, we will explain to her what really happened during her stay at the Vatican and how she managed to end up in our care but suffice to say she has no memory of you.’ Brulet gripped his shoulder tightly. ‘But I promise you, in time, she will.’

  Maria Genova looked up at the pair of them and smiled as the baby in her arms continued sleeping peacefully. Harker struggled to contain the feeling of overwhelming love aroused by the sight in front of him that he had to bite his cheek to stop himself from gasping. ‘Is he, different?’

  Brulet shrugged his shoulders. ‘It’s too early to say, but we will find out in due course. The important thing is that he is allowed to grow up and decide for himself. If it is meant to be, then it is meant to be. His brother preached that all people should be free to live their lives in peace, and I will offer this little one nothing less.’

  As Harker watched the young mother embracing her child, their eyes locked, and, for a moment, he thought he saw a spark of recognition flicker in the young Italian girl’s dark, brown pupils. She tilted her head to one side as if trying to figure out why the younger man in front of her looked so familiar. Then the spark was gone.

  ‘Yes,’ Brulet continued, ‘give it time, and she may remember. And, if not, I’m sure you will be happy to pop in from time to time to help jog her memory.’

  It took a second for Harker to register what the Templar had just said. ‘Pop in?’ He had assumed this would be the last time he ever encountered the Templars. ‘You mean I can come back? But you told me that only Templars may know your world.’