Apocalypsis 1.10 The Seven Bowls Of Wrath

by Giordano, Mario

  Not now! Please, God! Not now!

  Shaking and moaning, he threw up again; it was gushing out of him. Afterwards he felt a little better. He felt weak but relieved to notice that he had been lucky this time and that he had been spared a full migraine attack. It seemed to take forever but the blazing light began to fade and when the dancing spots before his eyes disappeared, he saw that he had vomited blood.

  He was gasping for air and trying to struggle to his feet when his cell phone rang.

  »Yes?«

  »Peter, this is Laurenz speaking. Where are you?« The voice of the former pope sounded constrained. Immediately, Peter’s instincts kicked in and his legs stopped shaking.

  »In Frankfurt. At the airport. What happened?«

  »There has been a gunfight in Suite 306. Nakashima San’s man was killed. Creutzfeldt has disappeared.«

  Peter cursed under his breath. »Did Nakashima’s people find anything inside the suite?«

  »No. Where is Maria?«

  »She is on her way to welcome Cardinal Bahadur.«

  »Damn it, Peter! She is in the greatest danger. Seth knows that you are in Frankfurt! You have to get her out of there.«

  »I’m already on my way.«

  »Wait, Peter, there is one other thing I need to tell you…«

  But Peter didn’t hear another word. He put the cell phone into his jacket pocket and stormed out of the toilet stall. In front of the sinks, a woman was waiting for him, with her gun drawn.

  »Don’t move, Mister Adam!«

  Peter froze on the spot, staring at the woman. The woman who had almost drowned him.

  »You are making a big mistake, Ms. Bertoni.«

  LXXIII

  May 17, 2011, Temple of Equinox, Rome

  Life is pain. Pain proceeds from hatred. Without hatred, there is no life. Hatred and pain are the elixirs of life, the eternal source and the nourishment of the light. The light is the journey and the destination. The Alpha and Omega of life. Everything is born of the light and in the light, everything will vaporize. The hatred is singing the hymns of the light, never-tiring, never-ending, and the pain is its voice. The light has spoken: you are my hatred, and you are my pain. Brothers you shall be, eternal brothers in the light.

  Nikolas held the machete in his hand, placing its blade on his left forearm as lightly as a beetle’s tread. The blade was only breathing onto his arm, softly. Like the wing beat of a weary butterfly. Yet there was already a thin red line and Nikolas’s eyes sparkled with interest as he watched it making a mark on his skin. Without putting any pressure on the machete, Nikolas moved the blade, just a tiny little bit. The red line became bigger and on both sides of the blade the skin split open like a bud that was opening prematurely. Nikolas could feel the pain trickling through his arm like fine sand and so he moved the blade, gently, around his entire lower arm until the blood began to drip from the gaping wound, hailed by a ring of fresh scars.

  Pain is the substance of the light. Pain is the nourishment of hatred. Only he who knows pain is worthy to serve the light.

  As he was watching life ooze from his body, viscously and reluctantly, to make even more room for hatred and pain, Nikolas tried to picture fate as clods of earth encrusted light, reminiscent of continental plates drifting on a magma of light and pain. Two of these plates of fate had collided, causing a quake that had shattered all the certainties of his life in an instant.

  Sparing Peter Adam’s life in Montpellier had been treason. Seth had summoned him back to Rome immediately and commanded him not to leave the Temple until further notice. Nikolas had spent the last few days fasting and cutting his arm. No, he had no intention of killing himself. Whatever his purpose was in the Great Plan, he had not yet fulfilled it.

  Why had he not been able to kill Peter Adam? A voice had called out to him as he was standing face to face with his twin brother. The voice of his mother.

  Cleanse yourself of all passions, bathe your flesh in light and pain, and banish all desires from your heart and mind. Banish the voice of your mother. Banish the image of your brother.

  The Temple of Equinox, officially registered as a hermetic lodge in the tradition of the Golden Dawn, and equipped with a sloppily designed website in the style of the 1990s that even listed occasional events that visitors could attend, was the Rome headquarters of the brotherhood. The Roman villa on Via Vincenzo Monti was barely visible behind high fences and a sub-tropical garden, and was located right across the street from a Carmelite convent. The design was identical to the buildings on the Ile de Cuivre and on the island of Poveglia: the basement had been converted into a wiretap-proof bunker, and there was an octagonal hall with the Sigillum Dei as well as cells for the permanent monastic members. Nikolas had spent the last five years of his life here in Rome and in Poveglia, in small quasi-monastic cells without any comforts.

  Nikolas put the machete aside and began to carefully bandage the gaping wound on his forearm. He had just finished when there was a knock at the door and Seth entered the room without waiting for a response. Immediately, Nikolas threw himself onto the floor.

  »Get up,« Seth said brusquely . »Sit down. We need to talk.«

  Nikolas stood up obediently and sat down on his cot, waiting submissively for Seth to address him again. Seth grabbed the only chair in the room and moved it into a position that meant Nikolas could look him straight in the eyes. Or had to.

  Seth sat down and pointed at the fresh bandage. »I see that you don’t neglect your exercises.«

  Nikolas nodded, devotedly.

  »Your betrayal deserved a punishment,« Seth continued. »Actually, I should have killed you.«

  »Do with me whatever you want, Master.«

  »But I knew that you would not kill Peter Adam.«

  Nikolas was confused. »Why did you send me then, Master?«

  »During Kelly’s last revelation, the light disclosed to me that you brother is part of the Great Plan that will bring Malachy’s prophecy to pass. Peter was supposed to see honest hesitation in you. And I wanted you to know what trepidation and doubts are so that you learn to overcome them. Unfortunately, there is bad news. Peter Adam did not show up for his appointment with Creutzfeldt in Cologne. But far worse than that: we lost Poveglia. Which means that we also lost the Swiss guy.«

  Nikolas stared at his Master. This news was alarming. Despite the fact that Nikolas had learned not to form any bonds, neither with places, nor with people or memories, the island in the Lagoon had become a sort of home to him.

  »This is a disaster, Master! What happened?«

  »Laurenz. It looks as if he is organizing a resistance.«

  »I will kill him, Master.«

  »No, this is something that I will do myself as soon as Laurenz finds me. He should not have ignored the Kampala warning. All that matters right now is that we find out who is standing behind him. I don’t believe that it is one of the secret-service agencies.«

  »Master, you once talked about a second order.«

  »That’s just an old Templar legend. The light has never mentioned a second brotherhood.«

  »What about Menendez?«

  »He completed his mandate and will continue to do so. But we cannot afford any further weaknesses.«

  »Master, believe me, I am…«

  »No, Nikolas, listen to me. Tomorrow I will be busy. During the conclave, you will be my deputy.«

  The immensity of this announcement left Nikolas almost speechless.

  »What… why… why me, Master?«

  »Because I have been preparing you all your life for this. Two days from now, at the latest, we will achieve our goal. If I die, you will continue the Great Plan.«

  Anxiety was choking Nikolas. Anxiety and an unfamiliar pain. The realization that one day the Master, too, would have to return into the light. But also pride at the fact that the Master had forgiven him; that he had chosen him.

  »What about Creutzfeldt? Isn’t he more worthy?«

  »Cre
utzfeldt has other tasks to fulfill. As we speak, Cardinal Bahadur’s plane is landing in Frankfurt. As scheduled, Creutzfeldt will be waiting there. For the package and for Peter Adam. As soon as Creutzfeldt brings Peter into the Temple, you will talk to him. He will trust you, Nikolas.«

  »Why would he trust me? I wanted to kill him!«

  »No, you spared his life. And you did it in a credible way. You are his brother. You will make it clear to him that he is a part of you, a part of us. And when he confesses his faith to the light, you will treat him.«

  »And what if it doesn’t work? If he refuses?«

  »Then you will watch as the virus eats your brother alive, Nikolas. Then you will see him rot away. And this pain will cleanse you and make you strong for the task that lies ahead of you.«

  Nikolas nodded. »I understand, Master. I am ready. But as you are appointing me your deputy, shouldn’t I …«

  Seth interrupted him with an imperious gesture. »No, Nikolas. The light revealed the Great Plan only to me. If I fall, you will establish your own connection. The light will test you and if it deems you worthy, it will disclose the Plan to you.«

  »So be it,« Nikolas said.

  Seth rose from his chair and wanted to leave.

  »Master?« Nikolas called after him.

  Seth turned back towards him.

  »I have been thinking a lot during the last few days.«

  »What about, pray?«

  »About this virus. You never told me about that. When did you inject Peter with it?«

  Seth smiled. »You have the ability to think for yourself, I am happy about that. It was unnecessary to inject Peter with this virus. It is one of the oldest components of the genetic makeup of humans. A sleeping gene. Nobody knows where it originated or what it accomplishes. Not every human being has it. But it is wonderful. If it is activated by a coherent blue light of a certain frequency, it leads within a very short time to excruciating death. Life and death, Nikolas, are just functional modes of the light; you know that. Peter was born with this virus; and so were you.«

  LXXIV

  May 17, 2011, Frankfurt International Airport

  Maria knew that the First Class passengers were always the first to leave the plane. So she hurried. When she reached the gate, the first people were already streaming out. The Cardinal was wearing a modest cassock and a gold cross on his chest. A tall Indian man with aristocratic facial features and, as was so often the case with Indians from higher castes, with a hereditary expression of disdain on his face. He was carrying an aluminum briefcase and his hand was clutched around the handle.

  »Your Eminency!« Maria stepped into the Cardinal’s way and held out her hand to greet him. »Sister Maria from the Union of the Merciful Sisters of the Blessed Virgin and Dolorous Mother Mary,« she introduced herself in English to the Cardinal. »I was told to meet you here and escort you to your connecting flight to Rome.«

  Cardinal Bahadur gave Maria a suspicious look. »I don’t know anything about that.«

  »A last-minute instruction from Rome; a personal instruction by Cardinal Menendez.«

  Bahadur grunted in annoyance. »What does the Cardinal Secretary of State think? That I cannot find my plane without proper assistance? Or is he worried I might miss the conclave so that I cannot vote for him?«

  »My sincere apologies, Your Eminency. It is just that I have the order to escort you. If you don’t wish me to do that, I …«

  »Never mind,« the Cardinal cut her off. »In God’s name!«

  Maria noticed that he was staring at her breasts. Not the first cardinal who had lost himself at the sight. This time, however, Maria kept her indignation within bounds. On the contrary! Instead of lowering her head in anger, she stared back at the Cardinal with the same defiant and challenging look that she had observed in the eyes of Roman women when they were flirting.

  »I will walk you to the V.I.P. Lounge. If you would be so kind as to follow me. Do you want me to take your suitcase?«

  She reached for the briefcase but Bahadur pulled it hastily away.

  »This won’t be necessary, Sister.«

  »This way, please.«

  Maria escorted the Cardinal past the other gates. Bahadur took his cell phone out and pressed a number.

  »Yes, it’s me. I have just landed in Frankfurt. … Wait a second.« He turned to Maria. »The flight to Rome, is it on time?«

  »It is, Your Eminency.«

  Bahadur continued to speak into his cell phone. »Yes. … I know that. I will be there. … No, right now, I am in the company of a sister from the …«

  »A Clemens sister,« Maria mouthed at him.

  »Yes, a Sister,« Bahadur repeated into the phone without paying any mind to Maria. »Instruction from Rome. … Lord in heaven, why should she be a problem?«

  Maria winced but tried to hide it.

  »What?« Bahadur hissed into the phone. »Just a moment!«

  He handed Maria the phone. Maria hesitated.

  »Take it, for crying out loud!«

  Maria took the phone. »Yes? Who am I speaking to?«

  »Sister Maria!« The voice that buzzed in her ear was that of an old man, and it made Maria flinch with fear. It was a voice that she had heard before, in her vision. It was the voice of the Whore of Babylon. »It really is you! Where is Peter Adam?«

  Immediately, panic began to surge through her body like a flash flood ripping out all reason, all confidence and all hope. The only thing that survived was a thought.

  Breathe. Live. Find.

  »How very kind of you!« Maria said into the phone. She was anxious to sound cheerful, as her fingers moved over the phone, frantically trying to find the tiny on/off switch. »But it is really no inconvenience at all. God bless you.«

  She had found the little switch. While she was ending the phone call, she switched the cell phone off and then she handed it back to Bahadur.

  »I have never heard of a Cardinal Seth,« she said.

  Bahadur did not answer. Without looking at the display, he put the cell phone away and walked on.

  When they arrived in the terminal, Maria pointed at a security door. »This way, please.«

  »Wait a second!« Cardinal Bahadur pointed at the signs above them. »This is the way to the lounges.«

  »I am supposed to take you to the special lounge for the diplomatic corps.«

  Bahadur gave her a suspicious look.

  »The safety and security measures have been increased,« Maria explained. »For the time being, there are even controls in the V.I.P. lounges. Furthermore, the regular lounges are quite crowded today. With Islamic guests.«

  Bahadur thought for a moment before following Maria through the security door to the elevators. The fact that she had a key card for the security zone seemed to reassure him. Once they were in the elevator, Maria noticed that he was staring at her breasts again, but this time she ignored him. She pressed the button for the next floor where she knew Peter would be waiting, and readied herself to take cover.

  Bing! The elevator door opened. But no sign of Peter. Maria peered nervously into the hallway that led to the offices of the Airport Authority.

  Bahadur was irritated and annoyed. »What is happening?« he asked. »Are we there yet?«

  »I think I pressed the wrong button,« Maria said in an apologetic tone and made the elevator go down again. She feverishly racked her brain as to where Peter might be. If he did not show up, she would have to do something. Now.

  The elevator stopped.

  »My apologies, Your Eminency.« With these words, Maria did to the Cardinal what she had once done, in fear of her life, to an LRA Sergeant in Uganda: with all the strength she had, she kicked the Indian man between his legs while smashing her elbow into his face. The Cardinal slumped over to the floor, gasping for air, his nose bleeding. At the exact same moment, the elevator door opened with a friendly sounding ›bing.‹ Maria snatched the briefcase from the Cardinal’s hands and turned to bolt outside when someone pus
hed her back into the elevator violently. A man was standing in front of her. He had short red hair and a gun with a silencer. Without hesitation, he aimed at the cardinal and fired two shots into his head. Then he aimed at Maria. Out of pure instinct and without any thought about the deadly contents of the briefcase, she held the piece of luggage protectively in front of her face and felt two heavy impacts that almost tore the briefcase from her hands. Maria screamed. The redheaded man lowered his gun, cold-bloodedly aiming at Maria’s chest. Maria sent a brief prayer to the Holy Virgin and waited for death to come.

  And death came.

  But not to her, to the redheaded man. All Maria heard was a pop and then she saw a blood-red blossom blooming on the man’s chest. He stared at her with a frozen and bewildered look on his face before collapsing in front of Maria, hit by a bullet in the back. Behind him stood a woman and behind the woman… Maria recognized Peter. He leapt to her side.

  »Maria! Are you hurt?«

  She shook her head, still in shock. »The suitcase,« she stammered.

  Peter took the briefcase, which was undamaged except for two bullet dents. Then he helped Maria to get to her feet.

  »Come on, we have to get out of here!«

  »Who is this woman?« Maria whispered.

  »This is Alessia Bertoni from the Israeli Secret Service. The rest I will tell you when we are on the road.«

  LXXV

  May 17, 2011, Necropolis, Vatican City

  Cardinal Menendez had lost God. Not just now, in the sticky depths of the Necropolis, where he had been wandering about for hours, cursing himself. Not just since he had sold his Church and himself to a man by the name of Crowley and a nameless demonic organization. No, he had lost God a long time ago, like a beloved talisman that he had carried with him for so many years that he had taken it for granted as part of himself. And then he had forgotten all about it and only discovered that he had lost it when it was already too late. Cardinal Menendez had lost God somewhere in the fabric of power that weaved through the Vatican like an invisible labyrinth. This web of intrigues and favors and silent wars, through which he had moved for so long and so skillfully, always believing that he was the only one who would never get lost in it. That he was the one who was pulling the strings. That he was chosen.