by R D Shah
‘There are still some highly radioactive hotspots hereabouts,’ Shroder informed ‘however hundreds of people have moved back into the area over the years, and tourists from all over the world make visits to Pripyat every day,’ he explained, ‘but I personally wouldn’t want to spend any length of time there.’
Shroder’s assurances that the zone was now safe to visit was reassuring, but Harker was nonetheless relieved when the MI6 agent pointed to the two electronic Geiger counters laying on the back seats
‘These will help us navigate any seriously dangerous areas,’ he offered assuredly. ‘But it would help if I knew exactly what we were looking for.’
‘I only have this address in Pripyat to go on, but it seems connected somehow to the Secrets. I’m afraid were going to have to play it by ear,’ Harker replied not wanting to divulge the existence of the Skoptsy just yet. If Brulet had not mentioned it, then Harker would follow suit until necessity demanded otherwise.
‘There it is now.’ Shroder was pointing to a grey army checkpoint, with a red and white striped barrier, and the two well-built soldiers in Ukrainian military uniforms patrolling it. ‘Should be no trouble but let me do the talking.’
Shroder pulled up to the barrier, exited the car and approached the two guards with his permission papers in hand. A few pleasant exchanges later and the guards were waving them through with polite smiles.
‘That was easy.’’ Harker remarked, surprised that the soldiers had not wanted to search the car.
‘I told you, they get dozens of tour visits every day.’ Shroder then lifted aside his grey duffel jacket to reveal a silver Browning semi-automatic holstered securely underneath his armpit. ‘Just don’t flash a gun at them and you’ll be fine.’
The sight of the handgun made Harker tense up ever so slightly, but Shroder noticed and was already shaking his head.
‘Just a precaution,’ the agent assured him, ‘but when I’m asked to go into a place with no questions asked, it pays to be prepared. It seems you’re a jumpy one, Alex.’
‘Well, I’ve had an extremely unpredictable time of it recently,’ Harker replied ruefully.
‘Yes, Sebastian told me about that Magi agent back in Jerusalem. They’re nasty little shits.’ Shroder added with a distasteful snarl.
It was the first time the MI6 agent had exposed any depth of knowledge regarding Templar business, and it relieved Harker to know that he wasn’t the only one in the car with the burdensome Secret.
‘I’m surprised, though, that Rabin got duped by him,’ Shroder continued, referring to the Mossad chief Harker had been detained by upon first arriving in Jerusalem. ‘The old man must be losing his touch.’
‘You know Rabin, then?’ Harker asked.
‘The intelligence services form a surprisingly small community and, besides, he’s a Templar.’
‘So you are also a Templar?’ Harker guessed. Apart from Shroder revealing his connection to Brulet, the MI6 agent had not, until now, imparted any further personal details during this trip.
‘Not exactly,’ Shroder replied, ‘but Sebastian and I have a long history. And, besides, finding the child transcends all other loyalties, as far as I’m concerned.’
‘So you know?’
‘Absolutely.’ Shroder declared firmly. ‘It’s one of the main reasons I am here with you right now. What I don’t know is who has him and why Pripyat?’
With this admission Harker now felt comfortable laying out exactly what he knew. ‘They’re called the Skoptsy.’
‘The Skoptsy? I’m not familiar with the name.’
‘They’re a radical quasi-Christian group with a proclivity for self-inflicted castration as a way to prove their faith.’
‘Ouch,’ Schroder exclaimed with a wince. ‘They sound a fun crowd.’
‘I know, right.’ Harker agreed. ‘I ran into one of them in Warsaw, a fellow called Strasser, and it was he who confirmed they had the child – or would do by now – and how they believed he would be instrumental in ensuring the prophecies are fulfilled in their name.’
‘What, like a sacrifice?’
‘That’s what the man said.’
Shroder patted the side of his duffel jacket with a thankful expression. ‘Then I’m glad I brought the gun.’
‘So am I,’ Harker replied, ‘because if I am right then Pripyat may be their centre of operations, or whatever you want to call it.’
This last information earned a deeply concerned glance from Shroder, who began to accelerate. ‘Then we should hurry.’
It took a further ten minutes of speedy driving before the tall grey building blocks of Pripyat loomed into view on the horizon. Covering an area only four square miles, the now deserted town resembled a snapshot of old-time Soviet life, albeit a weathered one. The entire population had been evacuated immediately upon news of the meltdown at the Chernobyl nuclear plant, which could be seen just a few miles off in the distance. The inhabitants had all dropped whatever they were doing at the time and just left, abandoning their homes along with all their worldly possessions, and even highly valued Soviet-style Lada vehicles had been left there to rust for fear of having been contaminated from the radiation spill. The approach roads, without regular upkeep, had split and cracked due to the weather, and the majority of them were now overgrown by dense vegetation, as nature continued to reclaim the evacuated area. As the Range Rover turned into one of the many neglected streets, Shroder slowed down in order to navigate around dense bushes and sprouting trees, and it took a few minutes of negotiating similarly decaying streets before they reached their destination.
‘That’s the place,’ Shroder announced, pointing towards a shabby-looking block of grey flats. He then parked the vehicle in the first available clearing and turned off the engine. ‘It looks totally abandoned,’ the man remarked, as Harker opened the passenger door and stepped out onto a tarmacked street with large cracks created by the encroaching vegetation that had pushed the surface up from beneath. The sound of the Range Rover’s doors slamming shut echoed down the empty street to announce their arrival, and Harker was immediately aware of how quiet it was. There was no sound at all, not the chirping of birds or even the wind bristling through the trees. Just total silence.
‘Eerie, isn’t it?’ Shroder observed, now making his way round to join Harker on the other side of the car. ‘I’m bringing these with us, just in case,’ he said holding up two gas masks before clipping them to his belt. ‘And don’t forget this.’ He handed his companion one of the compact yellow Geiger counters Harker had seen on the trip over. ‘I’ve set it up so as to flash on detecting any dangerous level of radiation.’ Shroder pointed to the LED display. ‘Then you know it’s time to turn back and find another way around. There are pockets of heavy radiation all over this place, so keep an eye on the display at all times.’
‘I will,’ Harker replied, clipping the counter to his jacket, about halfway down, so he could easily glance down at it.
‘And don’t pick anything up in case it’s absorbed enough radiation to cause sickness. Oh, and, really important, this one.’ He pointed towards the clumps of green vegetation lining the edges of the pavement. ‘That type of moss is completely irradiated, so don’t get too close and, for God’s sake, don’t pick any of it up.’
Harker watched patiently as Shroder scanned the area for other things to avoid. ‘You know, in fact, it’s best if you just don’t touch anything, not if you value retaining a full head of hair.’ He said it with a smirk before he raised his Geiger counter and inspected it. ‘The reading is still low, but I’ve got a pair of hazmat suits in the boot of the car if we need them … OK, let’s go take a closer look.’
With Shroder in the lead, they made their way along the road to the corner of the nearest residential block, then stopped at the entrance. Two doors lay in front of it that had rotted off their hinges.
‘Before we go in,’ Shroder held his hand out in front of Harker, ‘you should be warned that some of these
buildings are inhabited by the local wildlife.’
‘What kind of wildlife?’ Harker asked, grasping firmly his Geiger counter as if it were a weapon.
‘Well, there are the packs of wild dogs but they mainly keep to the surrounding forests, and apparently there are some black bears that occasionally take up residence in these delightful buildings.’ Shroder gestured towards the vast concrete blocks towering above them. ‘But I’ve never myself seen any. Still, its best to keep that in mind.’
‘Thanks,’ Harker replied uneasily, wishing now that he had a gun of his own, ‘I’ll do that.’
Shroder was already making his way up the steps leading into the dark murky interior, when something caught Harker’s attention. A few metres to the side of the entrance a Russian signpost was poking out of the ground, but it wasn’t the notice that caught his attention but something scratched on it. Something familiar.
‘Hold on.’ He called out and made his way over to the now redundant sign, followed attentively by Shroder. As he got closer to the rusting piece of metal he was able to fully make out the image that had caught his interest. In the top right-hand corner, a symbol had been roughly scratched into the surface.
‘What does it mean?’ Shroder asked, motioning to the half circle with a triangle in the middle of it.
‘I saw it at Strasser’s apartment.’ Harker replied, thinking back to the label adorning the tasty jars they had found in the man’s bedroom. ‘It’s definitely the same symbol.’ He stood back and, with his finger, followed the direction that the signpost was pointing – over to a gap forced through the bushes at one side of the building. ‘Let’s have a look over there.’
Harker covered the ten metres in seconds and was already preparing to make his was through the opening, when Shroder called out.
‘Wait,’ he commanded, and hurried past Harker with his Geiger counter extended. He spent a couple of seconds checking the display, before allowing them to continue. ‘The readings are low,’ he stated confidently, ‘but I’ll go first, and try not to brush against any leaves.’
Harker nodded in silence and then followed his guide into the leafy breach.
Once inside, they found a neat passage had been hacked through the vegetation, with the surrounding bushes offering cover and thus making it impossible for it to be spotted from the air. They followed this gloomy trail further until through a cluster of twisted branches, they began to see hints of white and gold somewhere off in the distance through gaps in the dense undergrowth. Another thirty metres and the trail opened up into a circular clearing, finally revealing the source of those colours.
The weathered white wood-ribbed chapel sat comfortably wedged inside the clearing, surrounded by towering pine trees. Long green strands of ivy ran up its sides, curling themselves around the black bars covering the plain-glass windows as well as the cracked and punctured gutter that lined the roof. The single spire was topped by the familiar bulbous tulip-shaped cupola that adorned most Russian Orthodox churches, supported by the typical single square room that had once provided the interior place of worship.
‘Nicely hidden.’’ Harker remarked quietly, so as not to attract attention from any possible occupants.
Shroder offered a nod of agreement and followed Harker as he made his way along the chapel’s nearest external wall to its farthest end, where he paused and cautiously poked his head around the corner. Once certain that the coast was clear, he began to carefully make his way through the tight one-metre wide gap between the chapel wall on one side and the thick hedge of bushes on the other. All this while he had to make sure his clothes did not come in direct contact with the thick vegetation, as per Shroder’s previous instruction.
The wood-slated arched porch revealed a thick white-painted double door, and Harker placed his ear next to it, listening for any sign of activity inside. There was nothing but silence and, with a wary nod to Shroder, he turned the weathered black handle and slowly pushed one door open with his jacketed forearm.
The charming rustic appearance of the chapel’s exterior turned out to be the only positive thing the building had going for it and Harker felt a twinge of disappointment at what he found inside. The single room comprising the building had been mostly gutted except for a few cracked pews lying abandoned on the floor. The remaining floor tiles were broken, and the missing spaces in between revealed a layer of filthy black concrete coated with dust and mildew.
Harker made his way further into the chapel as Shroder closed the door behind them, all the while still checking his Geiger counter.
‘It doesn’t look as if it’s been used in a while.’ Schroder concluded, as he placed the implement back in his pocket once satisfied that there was no call for alarm.
‘No, it doesn’t,’ Harker agreed, making his way further inside, ‘but that’s what they would want you to think.’
Harker cast his eyes around looking for any sign of an interior door, but there was none so far as he could see. Then a dark-red stain on the opposite wall drew his attention. ‘Looks like blood,’ he said, thinking back to the deep bite marks Father Baziak had displayed. As he continued to scrutinise the ruined interior, Harker suddenly froze with the feeling that someone was watching him. He remained still as his eyes darted back and forth before finally settling on two white dots in the darkest corner of the room. He stared at them… and the dots stared back, as Harker felt a heavy knot begin to tighten in his stomach. They weren’t dots, but a pair of tiny eyeballs and as he attempted to get Shroder’s attention, the eyeballs began to flicker nervously from side to side.
‘Michael!’ Harker managed to yell just as the eyeballs leapt forward from the dark corner, revealing a frightened-looking stoat which scurried past them and out through a small hole in the wall, sending Harker stumbling backwards with a jerk.
‘Bloody hell,’ he gasped before shaking his head in embarrassment.
‘They’re pretty small these Skoptsy, aren’t they?’ Schroder chuckled as his companion offered an embarrassed smile, and then returned to his inspection of the room.
‘What about that?’ Harker said pointing to an outline on the floor. At first he thought he must be looking at the faded sun mark where the base of an altar had once stood, but on moving closer he could see that it was a line of dust in the shape of a rectangle. He kneeled down for a closer look.
‘That could be a trapdoor,’ Shroder remarked, pointing out the tiny ridge of dust outlining the rectangle, and his observation was met with an agreeing nod from Harker.
Harker pulled a plain white handkerchief from his pocket and, using it as a protector, he ran his finger along the line of dust until it sank into a circular crevice. He then used the piece of linen to delicately wipe away the surface, revealing a small iron ring handle. Harker carefully cleaned away more of the dust until a floor-set doorway was visible, cleverly edged with an overlap so there was no obvious sign of the entrance unless someone was actively looking for it. Harker grasped the ring handle and glanced back at Schroder. ‘This is either going to lead us to the salvation of the world or to a stinky old basement.’
‘I’m going to go with the basement,’ Shroder offered before retrieving the silver Browning from his holster, ‘but I’m a cautious fellow nevertheless.’
‘Well, I hope you’re wrong,’ Harker replied, pulling on the ring handle and lifting the trapdoor to reveal a wooden ladder leading downwards into pitch blackness. ‘Because, if not, we’ve hit a dead end … and so has the child.’
Chapter 28
‘Are you kidding me? If some idiot had called in with a drunken spiel, do you honestly think I’d waste my time with it?’
Eric Paulson stared blankly at his boss as the CNN news van’s front left tyre sank sharply into one of the road’s many potholes, which sent his forehead smacking hard against the windshield. ‘Ow, Russell you prick, take it easy,’ Paulson yelled as he rubbed his head, which was already beginning to swell with a nasty red mark.
Russell Taylor
may have been one of the up-and-coming reporters at the news channel, but it hadn’t stopped him from being an asshole. What had one of the other cameramen called him? A legend in his own mind. Cameraman Eric Paulson had been working with this prima donna for less than a week but that was long enough for him to know their working relationship was, and would remain, non-existent. Of course that was fine by him so long as the stories they were chasing were good enough but, from what Taylor had told him so far, this latest one was far from anything special. ‘So were going after a dog-attack story then?’ Paulson asked in a tone that suggested he was struggling to get inspired by the idea of a canine scoop.
‘No, you fucking idiot,’ Taylor shouted as the van’s tyre hit another pothole that sent them both bouncing into the air this time. ‘It’s like a pack of wolves, only bigger.’
‘What, like a group of Saint Bernards?’ Paulson replied sarcastically, trying not to laugh out loud at the idea. They were here in Spain to get political coverage of the newly elected Prime Minister, not some pet-related yarn. ‘Do you think they’ll have the mini barrels of whisky hanging from their dog collars?’
‘I swear to God, Eric, if you don’t start taking this seriously I’m dropping your bearded ass for another cameraman.’
‘OK, OK, I’m being serious now,’ Paulson replied firmly and sobered by the threat. ‘So what exactly are we looking for?’
Taylor took a moment to narrowly miss another pothole before glancing over at his subordinate with a look of wild-eyed excitement. ‘The police radio’s been lit up over the last twenty minutes with dozens of reports that the village of Valdemanco is under siege from a horde of wolves, except these animals are apparently twice the size and, if the reports are true, they’ve already killed twelve people.’ Taylor stopped to catch his breath and was clearly thrilled at the prospect of an ongoing body count. ‘It’s fucking anarchy out there,’ he yelled excitedly, ‘and we’re gonna be the first ones to cover it.’
