No answer. Strangely enough, the basement seemed to have suffered much less damage than the rest of the building. Obviously, the epicenter of the explosion had been somewhere on the first floor. Still, it was down here where Rahel had discovered something that had alarmed her. The sight reminded Bühler of Poveglia. He saw long rows of bookcases, crammed with shattered pots and jars. Bühler did not have to search long before he found the room for the rituals, which was dominated by a huge and bloodstained sacrificial stone engraved with symbols. But Bühler had no eyes for this, as his entire focus was on the figure that was moving behind the stone, moaning.
»Rahel!«
Bühler kneeled down in front of the young woman, whose face contorted with pain as she tried to use the stone to pull herself up. He saw immediately that it was too late for help.
»Help me up, Colonel! I have to…« Her voice was barely a whisper. With every word, life was seeping out of her, becoming one with the pool of blood at Bühler’s feet. Bühler tried to keep it together and took her hand. A beautiful and strong hand that had once belonged to a beautiful young woman. Rahel Zeevi, also known as Alessia Bertoni, the woman who had been brazen enough to walk into the interrogation room and steal Peter Adam from him, right under his nose.
»Don’t talk, Rahel!«
»Help me onto my feet, Bühler!«
But there were no feet. There were no legs. There was nothing but bloody and burned flesh. The explosion had torn off both her legs from the hips down and it had mutilated the right side of her face. Rahel did not seem to feel any of it. Only when she saw the expression on his face did she seem to understand that she was running out of time.
»It… is… not over yet,« she whispered.
»No, sweetheart, it is not. But we will end it, trust me.«
She forced herself to smile. »Are you getting chummy with me?«
Bühler did not answer; he just kept holding her hand. Rahel gathered her strength one last time and then she spoke her final words.
»It is … only the beginning.«
»Don’t talk, Rahel. I am getting you out of here, right now.«
»Don’t!« Suddenly her voice was almost back to normal, strong and sharp. »Listen to me. This is only the beginning!« She swallowed hard. »I… saw something … before the shit blew up.«
Bühler tried to stay calm. »What did you see, Rahel?«
She looked at him with an expression on her face that reflected the horrors of Hell.
»The bomb…,« she whispered. And with her last breath of life she added, »Peter Adam.«
LXXX
May 17, 2011, Casina del Giardiniere, Vatican City
What about the amulet that you hid in the papal apartment?« Peter asked when he returned to the house. Sophia Eichner had gone to bed. Maria was sitting next to her father on the sofa and gave Peter a grim look.
»Did you know about it, Maria?«
She shook her head and exchanged a brief glance with her father.
»I never knew about the significance of the amulet and those writings that you found in the appartamento,« Laurenz said. »Only after studying what you and Maria found out am I beginning to understand the extent of the burden that was placed on my shoulders. Of course, I knew about the amulet but through all these years I have seen myself merely as a guardian of these items.«
»Weren’t you ever curious?«
»Of course I was. But I soon understood that my personal curiosity could endanger the Church. Look, as a young man, I was interested in mystic symbolism. I even wrote a book about it, many years ago. During my research, I noticed something that I found extremely disturbing. Certain symbols seemed to be directly linked to biblical revelations and prophecies like Malachy’s. And they unanimously predict the end of the world. It will probably not surprise you to learn that this end of days always coincides with a complete solar eclipse. But for a long time I thought what most theologians think: that these were mere allegories. Gloomy moral admonitions and infections of the soul. Today we have television for that. But then, shortly after I was elected Pope, the appartamento was renovated and one of the workers found the amulet and the writings. And this was when I saw this symbol again that I had identified as the sign of the apocalypse. It was impossible for me to decipher the parchments. So I thought: one of your predecessors, whoever it might have been, hid this inside the wall, and probably for good reason. So during the following night, I put the artifacts back into the wall and re-bricked it myself. You know, I can do things like that. From then on, I was more vigilant. I studied the Fourth Secret of Fátima, Saint Malachy’s Prophecy of the Popes, and other prophecies that are stored in the Vatican Secret Archives. And I came to the conclusion that the amulet is some sort of seal, and together with other, similar seals it locks something that represents an apocalyptic danger to the world. Furthermore, I concluded from the parchments I had found that the medieval alchemists, with Nicolas Flamel leading the way, had come very close to uncovering the secret. Without telling him about the amulet in the wall, I asked Don Luigi for help. He was supposed to find out what kind of danger it could possibly be. His reports came from all over the world and they were alarming.«
Don Luigi rejoined the conversation. »Last year, during various exorcisms, I noticed clear evidence of increased demonic activity. Some of the demons that I exorcised began to mention names. So I traveled the world at the behest of His Holiness to track these people down. The result was a list with twenty-one names. But it is possible that there are more people.«
Peter pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to Don Luigi. »This list?«
Don Luigi stared at the paper and passed it to Laurenz. »Where did you get this?«
»From Seth. Who are these people?«
»We don’t know,« Laurenz admitted and pointed at some of the names. »Eight of them have since been murdered, in the most cruel and brutal manner. I feared that Seth already had this list.«
»Based on what I could find out,« Don Luigi continued, »all these people have been suffering from haunting visions during the last few years, which have to do with the demise of the Church. Some of them developed mysterious signs and symbols on their bodies. Like stigmata or some kind of rash.«
»The signs and symbols were always the same,« Laurenz said. »I recognized some of them from my previous research. They were also found in the earliest petroglyphs. Some of them seemed to show a kind of map. But the most distinct evidence was provided by the spiral symbols. It is pretty safe to say that they show stellar constellations. What is surprising about this is that it took tens of thousands of years for these stellar constellations to occur. Every one of them marks a solar eclipse, each of them approximately one thousand years apart. And the next one is tomorrow.«
Laurenz did not say a word. Don Luigi took a drag from his MS.
»Shortly before I resigned, I passed this list on to Cardinal Torres in Santiago de Compostela,« Laurenz added. »A close friend. He knew about the danger and I hoped that he would continue the fight that I had to relinquish. Unfortunately, he was one of the first victims.«
Peter rubbed his face. »So this means that you have a list with the names of 21 people, eight of which are already dead, and you don’t know what the list means?«
Laurenz and Don Luigi looked at each other.
»We have our suspicions,« Laurenz said in a cautious tone. »All these people, and this includes you, Peter, had visions of the apocalypse. Don Luigi had the opportunity to talk to some of these people. The result is a sketchy but frightening picture.«
He looked over at the Jesuit priest again, and Don Luigi continued.
»All these people have seen evil. It is lying dormant in several different locations throughout the world, held at bay by the power of God.«
»And by the amulet,« Maria added.
Peter let out an indignant grunt. »Come on! Do you mean to tell me that the amulet comes from God?«
»No, Peter,« Lauren
z replied. »No one knows where it came from. It seems to be very old. Don Luigi wanted the material to be analyzed. Unfortunately, the doctoral student who conducted the analysis was also murdered. But I have a copy of his email together with the results.«
Laurenz handed Peter the email from Giovanni Manzoni, whose dead body Urs Bühler had found in Suite 306. Peter skimmed through the letter and let out a sound of amazement.
»If this is true, God is really for the birds.«
Angrily, Laurenz waved his hand as if he were swatting an annoying fly. »Let’s leave God out of this for a while and just focus on the facts.«
»Who is Yoko?« Peter asked, still looking at the printout of the email.
»Dr. Tanaka is the director of the research division of Nakashima Industries. Last year, at my suggestion, Nakashima Industries created a new and highly remunerated award for the development or discovery of completely new materials. It was an attempt to find out whether there are any other amulets of this kind out there. Until now, however, Dr. Tanaka has not received any comparable offers. Without the support of Mr. Nakashima, we would all be dead already.«
»Strange, isn’t it? That a Japanese billionaire is helping to save the Catholic Church.«
»You think so, Peter?«
Peter ignored the reproachful tone.
Stop behaving like a defiant high school kid in the principal’s office!
»All right, then.« he continued after a while, »the facts: the amulet is made of a material which is of synthetic origin. It has sensational and mysterious characteristics that are not reminiscent of any other known artificial or natural material. Besides, the amulet is, according to what Maria experienced, some sort of storage, a memory that can cause visions. Perhaps…« He was reluctant to say it. »Perhaps it is of extra-terrestrial origin.«
»At this time, we cannot rule out this possibility,« Laurenz agreed with him. »But I tend more to believe that we are dealing with a very old and earthly, yet unknown culture that perished a very long time ago. A culture that was closer to the power and wisdom of God than we are today. A culture that was equipped with great knowledge.«
»Knowledge that the Templars rediscovered in the Orient before hiding it again? The Philosopher's Stone? Red Mercury?«
»I believe that it is much worse,« Maria said, looking her father in the face.
LXXXI
ONE YEAR EARLIER …
September 11, 2010, Kampala, Uganda
The inferno began with a volley of machine gun fire.
A sudden dry cough, from somewhere in the crowds gathered in the stadium. Pope John Paul III stood all alone and unprotected in front of a microphone, as he watched candles and altar vessels explode at the tremendous force of the high caliber bullets. The large gold-plated wooden cross was shattered and the altar cloth was torn to shreds as if ripped apart by angry fists. John Paul III saw the burst of fire coming towards him. A brief and violent gust, a deadly blast of metal. No chance. Frozen in astonishment, the paper with his sermon on still in his hand, he stopped his speech as he heard the collective scream of thousands of people and saw the crowd in the stands to his left part like the sea for Moses. Then hell broke loose. The surface-to-surface missile hit the altar next to him with an ear-deafening bang and, like a treacherous beast of prey that had been waiting long enough, turned the stage into a fireball. The blast knocked the Pope off his feet. Heat was surging over his face, setting his cassock ablaze, and filling his lungs. As he fell to the ground, John Paul III saw two Ugandan deacons being whirled through the air before hitting the stage, their bodies ripped to pieces. Fire and smoke everywhere. Screaming. Commands.
»Go, go, go!«
And the gunshots did not stop. The fire did not cease, fire and heat everywhere. John Paul III was lying on the shattered stage and breathing fire. When he looked down at himself, he saw that he was burning. Quickly but without any haste, he tore the burning cassock from his body. The explosion of a second missile shook what was left of the stage and sent another fireball into the Ugandan afternoon, a bubble of heat and death that grew bigger and bigger, hitting the shocked crowd as a dull blast. At the same time, thousands of people were trying to escape from the inferno, fleeing over the steep stands and out of the stadium. As the stage in front was going up in flames and smoke, hundreds of people were dying in the stands, trampled to death by a stampede of people who were pushing from the stands above. The gunfire had ceased. Smoke was rising from the burning stage that was covered with charred body parts and shattered pieces of wood. Security personnel, police officers and priests in liturgical garments were running back and forth, yelling commands and cries for help. Wherever they looked they saw people who were severely burned, mutilated, in shock.
Due to a sudden indisposition, Alexander Duncker had not participated in today’s mass; he had just watched from the sidelines. Now he bolted onto the burning stage because the Pope, or what was still left of him, had to be somewhere amidst the fire and smoke.
As he climbed onto the stage, screaming and sobbing, he became the first to see the miracle. The miracle of Kampala.
A man stepped out of the sea of flames that engulfed the stage. The man was naked and his hair was charred, his face covered with lacerations, but apart from that he was unharmed. Duncker stared in complete disbelief at this man who had survived the inferno and was now walking straight towards him.
»I am okay, Alexander! Get me a microphone. Hurry!«
This simple instruction roused Duncker from his numbness. He rushed off as if out of his mind, yelling and screaming for a microphone. By now, the security personnel and the police officers had also spotted the unharmed and naked Pope and were shouting and pointing at him.
As naked as God’s first creation, John Paul III walked towards the edge of the destroyed stage, leaving the burning mass behind him. And instantaneously, the people in the stands stood still. They paused in their panicked flight and stared at the white man as he was handed a microphone. Silence fell over the stadium as the man spread his arms wide and spoke in a fearless and clear voice to all those who had survived the attack.
»Fear not,« the Pope said into the microphone, his voice strong and clear, »for the Lord is with you.«
September 11, 2010, Refugee Camp near Gulu, Northern Uganda
Maria and Don Luigi drove through the bush, but shortly before they reached the flat monolith, their Toyota pickup was stopped by Belgian Blue Helmet soldiers.
»What is the matter, Sergeant DeFries?« Maria asked one of the soldiers.
»You cannot drive any further, Sister. There was an LRA raid last night. We have not yet finished taking pictures of the scene and questioning the witnesses.«
»Oh, good Lord!« Maria called out in terror. »Were there any deaths?«
»Twelve. All of them elderly people, which seems strange. And what’s more, these old people seem to have gathered in a circle around a rock last night. It looks as if they got them during some kind of ritual.«
Maria exchanged a desperate glance with Don Luigi and then she turned back to the Belgian UN soldier.
»I need to see the place, Sergeant. Please! It is important!«
DeFries hesitated.
»Please, Sergeant!«
DeFries shrugged his shoulders. »It’s your decision.«
DeFries escorted them and minutes later, Maria and Don Luigi were standing in front of the flat rock that Nafuna had shown Maria the day before. A UN soldier was photographing the scene and marking the location on a map. Two other Blue Helmet soldiers were questioning a group of Acholi people who had settled down at a distance, staring fearfully at the scene of the massacre. The bodies of the old people had not yet been removed and were still positioned just as their relatives had found them in the morning. They had been decapitated and their arms and legs had been severed. The heads were arranged in a circle on the stone. Dried blood covered the rock, making it impossible to see the drawings that were carved into the surface. Maria recog
nized Nafuna’s head right away, even though her face had an expression of unspeakable horror. The mutilated torsos and limbs of the victims were displayed in a circle around the rock and engulfed by huge swarms of flies, which were attracted by the blood that had seeped into the sand.
Maria sank to the floor, seemingly drained of all strength. She was sobbing and praying to the Holy Virgin for the strength to be able to bear this grief. Until Don Luigi touched her gently on the shoulder.
»Maria, you need to see this.«
Maria looked up.
»Come with me!« Don Luigi helped her up and led her around the lone monolith.
»Is this the rock that Nafuna showed you?«
Maria nodded. »Yes. Why?«
»See for yourself. Over there. In the sand.«
As Maria took a closer look at the spot on the far side of the rock, she let out a startled sound. In front of the rock was a huge depression, which had the same shape as the rock. And in the middle of this depression was a hole, barely large enough for a child, that led into the earth.
Maria was aghast. »The rock was moved!« she said.
»That’s how it looks,« Don Luigi replied. »But it has to weigh at least a hundred tons. I asked the soldiers whether they found tire tracks or any other indication that there are machines in the area. Nothing! Nobody takes a rock like that and just moves it to and fro. And much less twelve old people.«
»Who did it, then?« Maria whispered.
»I don’t know.« Don Luigi pointed at the hole in the depression. »But whoever moved this rock wanted to clear a pathway.«
»What is this hole?« Maria asked, despite having a hunch what the answer would be.
Don Luigi shrugged placidly. »The Gate to Hell,« he said, with the calmness of a man who fought demons on a daily basis, »or rather, one of the gates, it looks like. I don’t want to jump to any conclusions before the actual facts are in, but I would place any bet that this hole goes very deep into the earth.«
Apocalypsis 1.11 The Thing Under The Rock Page 3
