The 4th Secret

by R D Shah

  Terrorist? With everything else going on, Harker had not even entertained the idea, and he sat there somewhat stunned as Brulet pulled a remote from his jacket pocket and pointed it towards the LCD screen behind them.

  The monitor instantly lit up to display a split screen of seven news channels, each reporting from one of the places of worship that had recently been targeted.

  ‘They are claiming this is the worst terrorist attack since 9/11, and the world’s first global terrorist attack aimed at religion as a whole.’ Brulet concluded. ‘These events are every bit as shocking as they are wicked.’

  With each rolling headline that Harker viewed, his stomach tightened a notch further. Words such as ‘chemical attack’, ‘nightmarish’, ‘first global terrorist attack’ littered the various channels in the general outcry at such a large-scale assault. Everything Brulet was showing him made sense, but there was still one question that nagged him over all others. ‘So how is it that Chloe and I were the only ones present to survive?’

  Brulet swung his chair back around to face Harker, leaving the rolling news to continue displaying on the screen behind him. ‘I will admit it is extremely odd but this attack is still fresh and we still don’t know the full extent of what has happened. For all we know, there may be other survivors not yet accounted for. We will have to stay the course and watch the news channels like everyone else.’ Brulet gestured back to the screen. ‘And meanwhile I am not about to get the Templar organisation involved. The authorities will do a much better job of investigating this than we can and, besides, we have operatives like Detective Rodriguez willing to keep us updated.’ Brulet retrieved the remote and began to play with it, rocking it gently from one hand to the other. ‘Now, as to the question why you, I think I might have more of an idea.’

  Harker watched as the large screen went black for a moment and then flashed back into life to display a variety of magazine covers and articles, all with one constant theme … Alex Harker himself. They were largely interviews Harker had given regarding the archaeological findings he had made during recent months, including the biggest one: that of Caesar’s death mask.

  ‘Over the last four months you have had more exposure than the Templars have received in the last millennium – the real Templars anyway.’ Brulet remarked with a wink. ‘And then there’s this.’ Brulet clicked the remote once again and the display became flushed with yet more front-page headlines but from mostly tabloids this time. ‘Are you aware that you have become something of a poster child for so many of the conspiracy buffs out there?’

  Vatican suppresses the Second Coming … Christ walks the earth once more … Alex Harker prophet or deceiver? With every new headline he read, the more uncomfortable he felt. Harker was aware of the various accusations the tabloids had been throwing at him recently but, considering they usually appeared alongside UFO and Elvis sighting exposés, he had never paid them much attention. His boss Dean Lercher, on the other hand, had wanted to use them in a publicity stunt when advertising Harker’s latest archaeological discovery. ‘Remember, Alex, there is no such thing as bad publicity so long as it gets bums on seats,’ the Cambridge dean had argued when wanting to send out a press release reading: ‘He discovered the son of God. Come see his latest discovery.’ Harker had immediately quashed the idea but it gave proof of the gossip connecting Harker with the Vatican crisis four months earlier. ‘It’s not something I’ve deliberately courted, Sebastian,’ he stated firmly.

  ‘No, I can see that.’ Brulet replied dryly, now using the control to zoom in on a magazine cover showing a smiling Harker shaking hands with the Mayor of London over the top of Caesar’s gold death mask and under the banner headline: ‘The man with Midas touch.’

  ‘Now that’s out of context,’ Harker growled defensively as the embarrassment over his media attention seeped into his cheeks.

  Brulet was already waving his hand dismissively before Harker could defend himself further. ‘I’m only joshing you, Alex. You’ve not mentioned a word regarding the child, just as you promised, and I have no problem with the publicity you have sought for your various finds – but I was simply making a point. Regardless of what you have or have not said, you have become the very real focus of attention for many of the general public in regards to the Vatican and also any and all rumours concerning the Christ child. Isn’t it possible that these terrorists could have included you in their plans for today’s attacks?’

  Brulet had barely finished his sentence when the speakerphone crackled into life. ‘Sir, I have completed the check on Father John Strasser.’

  ‘Good,’ Brulet replied, as both he and Harker automatically leant towards the speaker. ‘What did you find?’

  ‘Father John Strasser, aged fifty-five,’ the voice blurted out military-style, ‘was born in the Ukraine 1959 and joined the clergy in 1979. His parish lay in Warsaw, Poland until last year, when he just fell off the grid. I did find a Polish forwarding address tacked on to his voting registration form, but that was from over six months ago. I also found no record of him working at or even visiting the Vatican, let alone having access to the Pope.’

  ‘Thank you, Jason,’ Brulet replied. ‘And what about McCray?’

  ‘Nothing yet, sir, but I’ll let you know when I do.’ Brulet glanced over at Harker, who was already opening his mouth to ask the man a question, but Brulet held up a hand stopping him before he could utter a sound. ‘Oh and, Jason, could you text Professor Harker with that address please.’

  ‘Doing it right now, sir,’ the metallic voice crackled, before the line went dead.

  ‘It will almost certainly be a dead end, Alex,’ Brulet declared forcefully, but it was lost on Harker who was already responding to the ping of the text message on his iPhone.

  ‘Maybe,’ Harker replied after taking a moment to view the address and, once satisfied, dropping the phone back into his jacket pocket, ‘but if there is a chance of finding Strasser, then I need to take it. That rat-faced little turd knows a lot more than he’s been telling.’

  For the first time since his appearance Brulet was looking uneasy, and now Harker noticed the Templar tensely tapping the arm of his chair with one finger. ‘Is everything all right Sebastian?’

  Brulet sat there staring for a further few moments, just silently eyeing his guest through those weirdly misshapen pupils of his. Their odd shape meant it could be difficult to get a read on the Grand Master but, even with this unusual layer of expression protection, Harker had a rough idea what was on the man’s mind.

  ‘I’ll be careful. You have my word on it.’

  ‘I’ve no doubt you will,’ Brulet offered, ‘but I sometimes wonder if you are truly aware of the reality you’re now living in?’

  The statement wasn’t intended to sound threatening, and Harker didn’t take it as such, but he was uncertain nonetheless of what Brulet meant exactly. ‘I’m not sure I follow you.’

  Brulet lent forward, his fingers interlaced together, and rested his chin on his linked hands. ‘When you were inducted into the Knights Templar, I said you could be as involved or uninvolved as you wished, do you remember?’

  ‘I remember.’ Harker replied with a nod. ‘And I was and am thankful for that concession.’

  ‘Of course, and I was happy to offer it, but you do realise that by searching for the child on your own you are delving ever deeper into the murkiness of our world … and the deeper you go, the more dangerous it becomes.’ Brulet dropped his hands into his lap and raised his eyebrows. ‘Alex, you have already pissed off some very powerful people within the Magi by aiding us, and if you continue to go forward, it will only get worse.’

  To anyone else, Brulet’s warning may have sounded like a threat, but Harker took it for what it was: concern. ‘I understand that, Sebastian, but I’ve been aware of the dangers from the get-go and I’m still willing.’

  ‘Maybe I’m not being clear enough,’ Brulet interrupted loudly. ‘You know the Magi as a single organisation, but that is
not strictly true. The Magi are actually made up of four individual families, all of whom claim they belong to the original bloodlines of the three wise kings who followed the star leading to the stable where Jesus Christ was born. Even though they are ostensibly on the same side, these families have battled each other for centuries while all clawing for the right to be considered the Magi’s prime faction. Each family deals exclusively in a particular area of the Magi: John Wilcox’s branch of them dealt within the political arena, where others deal in such areas of expertise as intelligence, assassinations and finance. Each family strives to bring up their own kin with the education and ability to render them top of their game within that family’s sphere of influence. These roles are instilled in them from the earliest age, and the moulding continues throughout their education.’

  ‘Surely not everyone is born to suit a particular role?’ Harker stated, intrigued by such a concept of destiny.

  ‘Very true,’ Brulet replied, rubbing his hands together, ‘but certain abilities are passed on genetically. It is no coincidence that children tend to follow in their parent’s footsteps in certain areas of expertise such as in sport or the sciences.’

  ‘That’s true but it would also be fair to say that many are prone to going in another direction altogether,’ Harker ventured, as he found himself being distracted more by the debate than by the actual point Brulet was attempting to make.

  The Templar let slip a thin smile at Harker’s rather defensive posturing. ‘That is true as well but in many such cases children have the ability to follow in their parent’s footsteps but lack the wish to do so, for whatever reason. Finally, there are the rest whose abilities do indeed lie in unrelated areas. That is why each of the Magi families are encouraged to have as many children as possible, so as to increase the likelihood of producing a child with the requisite traits and characteristics.’

  Harker was already shaking his head in agitation. ‘That’s a pretty cold way of looking at family life.’

  ‘Indeed it is,’ Brulet continued, ‘and if you are not a fan of that parental model, then you’ll love this. If a child fails to live up to their designated role, they are removed from the bloodline.’

  ‘Removed?’

  ‘Yes, undesirables end up as victims of various accidents and tragedies, many of which are blamed on the Templars.’ Brulet licked his lips, wincing ever so slightly. ‘It’s a reliable mechanism for ensuring that hatred of the Templars will be passed on from one generation to the next.’ Brulet paused briefly in reflection. ‘I myself was blamed for the death of John Wilcox’s father, so am now hated above all else by that family, even though I am pretty sure it was Wilcox himself that took the old man’s life in order to usurp his position.’

  Brulet expelled a gruff sigh before getting to his feet and placing one arm behind his back as if preparing to deliver a speech. ‘Now, even though John Wilcox’s branch of the Magi have reached the top position, it does not mean their rule is absolute per se. There is a council comprising the heads of each family and decisions are made according to a vote, but’ – Brulet took a deep breath as if the mere explaining of the Magi’s inner workings pained him – ‘the most powerful of the families has the deciding vote, and Wilcox was therefore in charge because his family had attained the Magi’s most important ambition of all time which, as you know, was to steal the papacy. Now that plan has gone to hell, thanks in part to you, and we have no idea who is in charge, and therein lies the problem. Up until now we have only had to worry about Wilcox’s decimated family seeking to exact revenge but if you continue to pursue the child yourself, there is a very real possibility that the other three families will descend upon you, Alex. And, unless you are under the protection of the Templars, I can only see them succeeding.’

  Brulet snatched another deep breath and settled back into his seat, suddenly looking weary. ‘There is something more you should know. Since the Magi kidnapped the Christ child, the entire Templar organisation has rallied around one single objective: the retrieval of that child at all costs. Many within our ranks believe that to allow him to remain in the hands of the Magi is quite literally an affront to God. And although I do not believe there is any spiritual connection to the child, since he was made by man, I cannot in good conscience allow the poor innocent to be destroyed by the Magi’s own twisted belief system. What is also significant is that to not take any action could – and I believe would – result in a fracturing of the Knights Templar Order itself and that can never be allowed to happen. So, when the child was kidnapped, it was decided that the Templars would begin an offensive against the Magi and for the past month it been nothing short of a total war between us. We have tracked down and raided one Magi stronghold after another, and the casualties have been high on both sides. But still, after all this, we have not produced a single lead to the child’s whereabouts. Then, about two weeks ago, they just disappeared. Every known member of the Magi, every network we had discovered, every listening post and even every legitimately placed member in their various businesses has just vanished.’

  Brulet licked his lips apprehensively. ‘Right now I have every Templar under my command scouring all the corners of the globe in search of some piece or even a fragment of information that will lead us to the child but, as I said, so far we have come up with nothing. The point is, Alex, that if you choose to follow these leads which, for the record, I believe will take you nowhere, I cannot guarantee your protection … I simply cannot spare a single soul for that at the moment, not with the losses we have taken, I’m sorry.’

  Harker shifted in his leather chair with a creak and began to digest the information the Grand Master had just heaped upon him. He had realised that he could become the target of a revenge attack but with Wilcox’s brothers all dead and the ex-Pope in hiding, he had assumed the risk was low. However, throwing these other Magi families into the mix was something else altogether. What concerned him most was Brulet’s disclosure that so many Templars had been cut down and in such a short time period. The loss of life must have been appalling and realistically it would take years for the Order to replenish its ranks. Templars were born into the Order and seldom invited, himself being a rare exception to that rule. ‘I am so sorry, Sebastian, but I had no idea so many members had been lost.’

  ‘Thank you, Alex,’ Brulet nodded appreciatively.

  ‘How many?’

  ‘Almost a third worldwide … including two masters of the Templar Council, some of whom attended your own initiation.’

  An image of the nameless faces of the men and women holding out their swords in an arc, as he made his way down the ceremonial aisle to be inducted, recurred sharply in Harker’s mind. He was never given their names but at this moment he wished more than anything that he could have known them better. To grieve a stranger’s death can be an emotional even if detached experience, and his Templar colleagues deserved more. ‘Bloody hell!’

  ‘A bloody hell it is indeed, my friend,’ Brulet voiced despondently in nothing more than a whisper. ‘A truly bloody hell.’

  Since his first meeting with Brulet, he had never seen the Grand Master look so disheartened, and Harker suddenly felt an almost euphoric surge of protectiveness towards him. This was possibly in part due to his second drink which Brulet had ensured was a double. ‘Then I need to find Father Strasser asap. If there is even a chance that Strasser is a member of the Magi, and connected to the child’s disappearance in any way, then I can’t afford to wait even for a moment. Finding the child has to be my first priority.’

  Harker was already on his feet and using his iPhone to take another look at the last known address provided for him, when Brulet’s voice growled loudly from behind.

  ‘Did you even listen to anything I just said?’ he boomed.

  Harker turned to see the Grand Master struggling hard to maintain his composure, the pale skin of his cheeks flushing red with either anger, frustration or a mixture of the two.

  ‘If you chase after the
child on your own, the Magi will come after you. And did I mention one branch of that family is known as the house of assassins!’ Brulet bellowed as he jumped to his feet. ‘So far you have only had dealings with their political branch, and you know how dangerous even they were. The people who will pursue you next have trained since birth to do nothing else but liquidate their enemies. These murderers have been taught to engage in every type of covert espionage in order to eliminate their targets.’ Brulet continued to growl as he pushed back a lock of long white hair that had slipped across his face in his rush to stand up. ‘And now they will be after you, specifically, Alex Harker.’

  A few moments of silence passed as Harker stood there stunned by this outburst. Brulet was not the kind of man to allow his temper to erupt; in fact he seemed the essence of calm and always fully in control. ‘I thought you said the Magi didn’t have anything to do with this ‘terrorist’ attack – or with Strasser, for that matter.’

  ‘I don’t think they did but, who knows, maybe there is a connection. And anyway putting you back on the street, as it were, gives them all the opportunity they need to take a shot, should they wish to.’ Brulet began forcefully tapping a finger on the conference table. ‘Just stay here with us until we figure out what these attacks are about.’

  Without hesitation Harker was already shaking his head, his own anger now flaring. ‘I appreciate the concern, Sebastian, but if Strasser has any connection to the child, I need to know. Actually, forget needing to know; with everything that’s happened, it’s my duty to know.’ He spun around and was already making his way to the exit, which proved an ill-conceived idea because he found it was locked tight.