Apocalypsis 1.11 The Thing Under The Rock

by Giordano, Mario

  »And what is down there?«

  »Nothing. Not any more. Whatever used to be down there, last night, it came to the surface.«

  February 27, 2011, Apostolic Palace, Vatican City

  More than six months after the »Miracle of Kampala,« the Ugandan government presented John Paul III with its official final report on the attack. Various secret-service agencies had participated in the investigation. Yet the Ugandan government had insisted on presenting it as the result of a national effort. And the report could not have been any clearer: the attack was led by the Lord’s Resistance Army and had been ordered by no less than Joseph Kony himself. How the heavy-caliber machine gun and the rocket launcher could get into the stadium in the first place, these were questions that the report left unanswered. They had at least taken several suspects into custody. However, they had all died in custody, »under unfortunate circumstances.«

  Still, the greatest mystery of all was how Pope John Paul III had survived the attack almost unharmed. Thousands of people had seen the missile hitting the stage and turning it into a sea of flames. Despite their panic and agony, they had even seen that the Pope’s white cassock had caught fire. John Paul III himself had no explanation for his survival. In the few interviews that he had given about the incident, he always professed that the last thing he could vaguely remember was tearing the burning cassock from his body. And he remembered the fire that had engulfed him. However, what he did not share with the journalists, was the fact that he had not been alone in the infernal flames of Kampala. Alone and at death’s door, Pope John Paul III had seen an angel standing amidst the flames. An awe-inspiring and fear-invoking being who had not been a vision but a real person with a body. And there, lonely in the midst of the flames, John Paul III had seen the proof that man was not alone in this world. That salvation and damnation were not neuronal illusions. That good and evil were not simple prejudices of God. They were real. They had substance.

  Pope John Paul III took the commission’s report and threw it angrily into the trash basket. He was not interested in finding out who had fired the machine gun and the rocket launcher. He was only interested in finding out why. And this was the question that the report did not answer. On the other hand, after what the Pope had seen in the fire, after what he had discovered in the chamber under the Necropolis, and after everything that his daughter and Don Luigi had told him about the rock in the Ugandan bush, it was no longer important, since he knew the answer anyway: he did not have the slightest doubt that the threat he had to face was bigger than anything anyone could imagine.

  It was on the same day that John Paul III held a private audience with a young Polish Jesuit priest and a young American Benedictine nun. In the near future, the young Pole would become the first priest ever to go into space. Sister Anna from Queens, New York, was known as an excellent mountain climber and had already climbed several peaks in the 25,000 foot range.

  »I invited you both to meet me because I would like to entrust you with a special mission,« he began after the usual greeting ceremony and after Duncker had left the room. »But I want to be honest with you: this mission is dangerous and has to remain strictly secret. The wellbeing of the Church and of the entire world may depend on it.«

  The two young devotees looked at the Pope, intently but without fright or fear.

  »You can, of course, refuse, and I assure you that this would not have any negative consequences on your future,« the Pope continued. »As soon as you leave this room, it will be as if this conversation never happened.«

  He waited for a moment. The Polish Jesuit exchanged a brief look with the nun.

  »What is it all about, Holy Father?«

  »I need you to track something down for me. You, Brother Pawel, from the ISS and you, Sister Anna, closer to home. I don’t know the exact location but it is somewhere in Nepal. In the Himalayas. In the Annapurna section.«

  A smile stretched across Sister Anna’s face at the sound of the word Annapurna. And Pawel Borowski appeared not afraid but just curious.

  »What do you want us to track down for you, Holy Father?«

  John Paul III cleared his throat. »Hell.«

  LXXXII

  May 17, 2011, Casina del Giardiniere, Vatican City

  Silence spread through the exorcist’s living room after Laurenz had told the story of the past year, occasionally interrupted by comments from Maria and Don Luigi. The orange cat mewed and jumped into Maria’s lap, where he began to purr with pleasure as she ruffled his fur. Don Luigi opened one of the windows and released the cold cigarette smoke into the night like an army of weary and defeated demons. But this was an illusion. It was far from over. The demons were not defeated yet. They were itching and crawling over Peter’s skin, reminding him of how little time he had left.

  »I sent Brother Pawel and Sister Anna straight to their deaths,« Laurenz confessed in a soft voice. »Ultimately, it was their demise that tipped the scales for me and made me decide to resign. All I could do was send the list with the names to Cardinal Torres and let the cat free with a clue leading to the hiding place in the wall. I knew that Vito would show up at Don Luigi’s sooner or later.«

  Laurenz paused for a while before he continued. »I was culpably naïve,« he said. »I believed for a long time that Cardinal Menendez and Opus Dei were behind the activities of the Light-Bearers. They would have had every reason to pursue my downfall and my death. Immediately after my return from Africa, I authorized investigations into this matter. Menendez was beside himself with rage. And he had every reason to be. It was not possible to prove that Opus Dei or Cardinal Menendez himself had been involved in the attack that cost the lives of 230 people. I refused to accept that the existing danger was far more powerful. I recognized the full extent of the threat much too late.«

  Suddenly, Laurenz seemed exhausted. Even his ever-restless hands were suddenly lying still on his legs like migrating birds taking a rest after a long flight over an endless ocean.

  An old man.

  »Satan is in this world,« Laurenz continued quietly. »I saw the sudden resurfacing of the amulet and the parchments as a warning signal. Since that day, I have been gathering evidence with the help of Don Luigi. Piece by piece and in complete secrecy. Prophecies, the Nag Hammadi Gospels, historical annotations, records of heresy trials – there were clues everywhere. Not a simple task for a pope whose every step is being watched. I had to learn that there was hardly anyone in my life whom I could trust, not even my private secretary. When I could no longer close my eyes to the truth, I asked the most important religious leaders of Judaism and Islam for help in my fight against evil. Albeit with moderate success, at least in the beginning. Only when you found out what you found out, Peter, was I finally able to convince Rabbi Kaplan and Sheik al Husseini. Without Rabbi Kaplan, we would not have been able to save you today.«

  »So I was part of your plan the whole time?« Peter asked. »And you knew about my parentage?«

  Laurenz shook his head. »I had no idea, believe me. Only now am I beginning to understand the connections and much of it still remains a complete mystery to me. God has set limits to evil. You, Peter, you and all the others on the list, as well as all those that we have not yet found, you seem to be the ones that He has chosen to face and confront Satan. God needs you, Peter.«

  Peter exhaled loudly. »So you are saying that evil is something tangible. Something that, eons ago, built nests in the world where it would sleep for a thousand years, to wake up again one day?«

  Laurenz nodded.

  Peter shook his head, grumpily. »I don’t believe that. This is absurd.«

  »Can you imagine how difficult it was for me to accept it?« Laurenz said. »I firmly believe in the resurrection of the body of Jesus Christ and the Holy Virgin, as firmly as I believe in the existence of Satan. Yet, for me, evil in itself had always had profound human traits. Something that man is infected with from the beginning. Something he is free to choose or turn away from. Somethi
ng that is only kept within limits by God’s mercy. But to accept that evil has a substance and that it is hiding in various places in this world, that it seeps out of the ground like toxic miasmas from an extinct volcano, that it is a parasite gnawing at the world and feeding from it, that it is a being that cannot be restrained by divine intervention because only magical symbols and seals can prevent it from breaking through the surface and devouring the world, this was an unbearable realization.«

  »I still don’t believe it!« Peter said.

  »And what do you believe?«

  Exactly… what do you believe? Is there actually anything that you still believe in?

  Peter hesitated. »I believe that this ›evil‹ is nothing but a label. Whatever you discovered in the Necropolis, whatever might be hiding under this rock in Uganda or elsewhere, and whatever the Light-Bearers are searching for, it will be something real. Inexplicable perhaps, but certainly real. Just as real and man-made as this amulet. Just as real as Seth and the Bearers of the Light. Real, mysterious, powerful, dangerous, and, perishable.«

  »You mean whatever it is… it is destructible?« Maria asked.

  »That’s exactly what I mean. It can be destroyed and neutralized, explained, analyzed, classified, locked up, shot onto the moon and transmuted. And this might be the secret of alchemy. They believed that everything can be transformed. So why shouldn’t a former pope believe that something evil can be transformed into something good?«

  »I pray that you are right,« Laurenz said with a sigh. »But I fear that you are wrong.«

  Peter straightened himself up. »Whatever. The danger is much more specific, though. It is likely that the Light-Bearers are in the possession of a devastating alchemical weapon.«

  In a few words, Peter told them what he had found out about the alchemical formula and the Red Mercury.

  »If we add what you have found out, Laurenz,« Peter finished, »the conclusion is in my personal opinion quite simple: the Light-Bearers are searching for something that is hidden in the Vatican. Possibly the treasure of the Templars; I don’t know. In any case, the amulet is only one part of it. This is why they are attacking the Church. Specifically and directly. They are planning an attack on the conclave. And they want to execute the attack with an alchemical bomb, which is supposed to destroy the Vatican and kill the College of Cardinals. Tomorrow. And this bomb, which is tiny yet has the blasting power of a small nuclear bomb, is already in Rome. Possibly already in the Vatican. And if we still want to have a chance of preventing the disaster, we should get off our asses and start searching.«

  »The entire Vatican has been searched thoroughly by special units during the last few days,« Don Luigi argued. »Especially the area around the Sistine Chapel. There was no sign of any bomb.«

  »There are seven bombs,« Maria said. »And they are very small.«

  »This is nonsense!« Laurenz interrupted her. »This doesn’t make any sense. If Seth were really capable of manufacturing Red Mercury and synthetic gold, why would he make it so complicated? No, I believe that he wants something else.«

  »And what do you have in mind?« Don Luigi wanted to know.

  Laurenz did not reply. Either because he did not know the answer or because he thought that his assumption was too outrageous.

  »Perhaps you are right,« Peter said slowly. »It is possible that these bombs are just another wrong track. I have been thinking a lot in recent days and I realized how easy it was to take this medallion with the chip from Seth, which contained important and unencoded data. Too easy, actually. My entire escape from the Ile de Cuivre went much too smoothly.«

  »But there is still your vision, Peter!« the exorcist reminded him.

  »And what else could the Bearers of the Light want?« Maria called out.

  Laurenz was about to answer her question when his cell phone rang.

  »It’s Bühler,« Laurenz said after a brief glance at the display. »Colonel Bühler. What’s the situation?«

  During the short conversation, Peter could see clouds of horror passing across Laurenz’s face. The former Pope himself did not say much. He just listened to Bühler’s hasty report.

  »Yes, send me the picture,« he said finally. And when he hung up, his face had lost all color. »They stormed the temple, and the operation ended in disaster. Rahel Zeevi and her men are dead. The interior of the temple is completely destroyed. However, Colonel Bühler has found something in the basement. He is sending me a picture.«

  Laurenz waited until his cell phone gave a short beep, announcing that he had received an image file. He was speechless for a moment as he stared at the picture before handing the phone to Don Luigi.

  »Does this make any sense to you, Padre?«

  Don Luigi took a close look at the image and shook his head. Then he passed the phone on to Peter. He recognized a sacrificial altar reminiscent of the one on the Ile de Cuivre. But instead of the Sigillum Dei, something else was engraved into the top. The familiar spiral symbols, the circular symbol, and in the center, the symbol for copper. Peter was irritated by the sequence of the symbols but at the same time, it felt familiar to him. There was some writing underneath the drawing. In those Enochian characters, which looked like a blend of Celtic runes and Carolingian minuscules.

  Hoathahe Saitan. Hoathahe Seth. Hoathahe Peter Adam.

  »What do you think this is, Peter?«

  Peter gave a moan. »I have no idea.«

  He is calling you. How much longer do you want to wait?

  »You look pale, Peter. Is everything alright with you?«

  Peter fought against the nausea. »Yes, thank you, it is just that I am so tired. I… will step outside for a moment.«

  »I will go with you,« Maria said and rose to her feet.

  »No,« Peter replied. »Please. I would like to be alone for a little while.«

  Alone in Don Luigi’s herb garden, he hid in the shadows of a centuries-old olive tree. He felt weak and slumped to his knees as he threw up another stream of blood. His knees were shaking and so he remained in his crouched position and he cried. He was desperate and felt overwhelmed by the pain and suffering that a merciless fate had imposed on him, his parents and all the people who meant something to him. He cried for himself because he did not have much time left. He cried with the certainty that it was already too late. And he cried for the Church, the world, and for Maria and him. And as he was writhing with cramps under the olive tree, his tormented mind pushed a long-lost image to the surface of his memory. Peter saw a tower. A lighthouse on top of a soft and green hill. A car was parked in front of the tower. And his mother and Nikolas were sitting in the car. They were laughing and playing a counting game. Peter knew immediately that she was his mother. He had always known. As he approached the car, she turned around and said something to him.

  Speak louder, Mom. What do you want to tell me? I cannot hear you. Please, speak louder!

  She repeated it. And she repeated it again. Time and again. The secret of his existence.

  As the image faded away, Peter pulled the small SIM card from his pocket and with shaking hands he reinserted it into his cell phone. He did not have to wait long for something to happen. Only a few moments later, his cell phone began to vibrate.

  »There you are, brother, finally. I was wondering how much longer you intended to wait.«

  »I want to talk to Seth.«

  »That’s not possible. It is just hours before the big day, so the Master is busy.«

  Hoathahe Saitan.

  »Where is he?«

  »Why don’t you come by and I will explain it all to you. You are needed, Peter.«

  »Where are the bombs, Nikolas?«

  »Forget about the bombs, Peter. Far bigger things are at stake; you know that.«

  »I got my memory back, Nikolas. I remember the tower. You know? The tower. I know now who we are.«

  Peter could hear Nikolas on the other end of the line, inhaling sharply. »I know exactly who I am.«

&n
bsp; »Nonsense, Nikolas. You dream every night about this tower. You don’t know a damned thing. But I know now.«

  »What do you want, Peter? You will die if you don’t come to see me, and it has to be soon. I can help you.«

  »I want an answer. Where is Seth?«

  »How would you be sure that I am telling you the truth?«

  Tell me!

  »Because I know you, Nikolas. You are me. I would know if you lied.«

  Nikolas hesitated. Peter could literally feel that the seed he had planted was beginning to flower.

  »And then you would come to see me? Alone?«

  Don’t do it. Do not do it!

  Peter took a deep breath. »Yes.«

  Thirty minutes later, when Peter had still not returned, Maria became worried and went into the garden to look for him. She came back in shortly after, visibly upset.

  »Peter has vanished.«

  »What?« Don Luigi jumped from his chair. »Where did he go?«

  Maria was fighting back tears as she handed her father a slip of paper with a message that Peter had hastily scribbled.

  »This was under the olive tree.«

  Dearest Maria,

  Dear Franz Laurenz, dear Sophia Eichner,

  Dear Don Luigi, my friend,

  I have no other choice. If we still want to have a chance to prevent the apocalypse, this is the only way. I will meet Nikolas and I will do what I have to do. I will kill my brother if I have enough time left.

  You, Laurenz, you have to kill Seth. I know that you are a man of faith. But believe me: you have no other choice. Find him. Seth is here. Somewhere inside the Vatican. Kill him. You were right, Laurenz. He has no intention of completely exterminating the Church. On the contrary, he wants more. He wants to become Pope.

  Peter

  LXXXIII

  What were you talking about? About your mother. She was with you at the lighthouse. A vacation by the North Sea? No, an escape. It is hard for Nikolas to remember. But he, too, has these dreams. The expression in Nikolas’s eyes. Without sparkle and color. Is this your brother? He is asking himself the same thing. He seems nervous, as if he were afraid of being caught with you. Which is ridiculous, because who is going to catch you in this place? The two of you are alone. You try to stay calm. Not to think about the fact that he killed Ellen. That her final agony was worsened by looking at him. Looking at you. He talks about light and hatred and pain. You don’t understand a single word but you listen because you want to understand. And slowly, you begin to understand. You exchange fragments of your memories, pretty much like the card game you used to play in the schoolyard, even though time has damaged the fragments so badly that they no longer fit properly. What doesn’t fit will be forced to fit. That’s what Lutz used to say, Lutz in his wine-red sweater. Nikolas says: I am pain. Pain is the light. You see Nikolas in your mind’s eye, sitting in that car in front of the lighthouse. You say: you never laughed much. You remind him of the accident, which was not an accident but murder. The question is: why us? He doesn’t know that either. He makes you an offer and you say: No, thank you. He talks about power and says that you cannot fool him. You can’t? You ask him about the virus in your body. He repeats his offer. And then? You say something. You make a mistake. Suddenly pain. And light. So much light.