by R D Shah
‘That’s enough. We do not want to destroy it completely,’ Wilcox decided even as the southerly wall began to wobble. ‘Like many other shrines to come, this husk of former glory must serve as a visual reminder: a testament to the power that the new order wields in years to come.’ Wilcox leaned closer to Harker, his expression full of spite. ‘Stings, doesn’t it, to see so many lives snuffed out in such a seemingly senseless tragedy? Now you know the pain you yourself caused me when you killed my brothers.’
The fact that Harker had not actually been responsible for the deaths of Wilcox’s siblings seemed immaterial at that moment. It would obviously have been futile to try and change this psychopath’s mind and as he watched this vision of destruction flicker into darkness, Harker felt a deep sense of total despair. Maybe it was the sight of so many people losing their lives, or maybe it was because he was so utterly powerless to do anything about it, but either way he felt totally drained of energy and uttered the only thought that came to mind. ‘You’ll burn for this, Wilcox. I don’t know how or when, but you will burn.’
The man raised his eyebrows sarcastically as he reached over and tapped Harker on the chest. ‘Naturally I disagree, but if I am going to burn for that event, then I am undoubtedly going to roast for this next one.’
Wilcox turned his attention back to Mr Samprey who was still hunched over his computer screen. ‘Next location, please, quick as you can.’
Once more the main screen lit up, displaying a satellite image of the Vatican City in its entirety.
‘Now this is one landmark the world can really do without,’ Wilcox rasped, rubbing his hands together. ‘St Peter’s was a good start but I’d feel better if this whole place was gone entirely.’
‘What happened to leaving husks to serve as visual reminders?’ Brulet asked flatly.
‘The ruins of so many other Catholic churches around the globe will serve that purpose adequately, but as for the Vatican…’ Wilcox replied pensively. ‘It is too much of a symbol… evoking too much history to be left standing. There must be no beacons of hope left if the Magi are to seize the reins of world power. There is a fine line between symbols of despair and those of hope. Take the cross upon which Jesus Christ died: it should have been an icon for pain and suppression but instead it became one of hope and belief.’ Wilcox shook his head vigorously from side to side. ‘No, the Vatican City must disappear. Out of sight and out of mind, it is the only way.’
The dark logic initially drew a disheartened sigh from Brulet, but he was then visually overcome by an air of serene calm. ‘John,’ he began, in all but a whisper but somehow maintaining an air of authority, despite being handcuffed. ‘Our two organisations have been at war with each other for a millennium. We have fought at every stage in the evolution of the Catholic Church. The Magi have always sought to control and the Templars to protect the religion we hold so dear but, despite the bloodshed and loss on both sides and the inescapable differences of our creeds, there is one thing that has always united us.’
‘And that is?’ Wilcox replied and looking extremely curious.
‘We both believe in God’s divine plan, through religion, to lead people to a better and more just world. Our only real difference is that you people believe it must be done through control and subjugation, whereas we believe it should be achieved through the will, belief and peaceful intentions of the people that serve Him.’ Brulet gazed at Wilcox, with eyes that pleaded for understanding. ‘But to destroy religion itself, and all it stands for, goes against everything our ancestors aimed to achieve. Please don’t do this… for their sakes as well as ours.’
John Wilcox slumped back against the console and any malice or loathing for his arch-nemesis evaporated, and a contemplative expression began to surface. He looked down to the floor for a moment before returning to face Brulet’s imploring stare. ‘You’re right,’ he replied. ‘My ancestors and yours have always shared that particular ideology that you refer to and, in many ways, we are similar beings you and I. But, I, unlike my ancestors, decided to pose myself a question that neither side had even considered before, let alone dared ask.’
‘And that is?’ Brulet inquired apprehensively.
‘It is so simple, so base, so obvious a question that I doubt it has ever even entered your indoctrinated mind, Sebastian,’ Wilcox replied.
‘Well?’ Brulet urged, ‘what is it?’
Wilcox raised his hands as if impatient at the lack of vision being displayed. ‘Does God actually exist?’
The question left both Brulet and Harker staring at each other in amazement, but it was Chloe who spoke first.
‘Hold on, I thought your Order’s entire history was based on what you believe to be God’s chosen path. Doesn’t the whole purpose of the Magi rest on the belief that you are doing His work?’
‘For my ancestors, yes and without question, and for a long time I also was unwavering in that same belief but I have come to realise that in order for any civilisation to thrive, it must evolve, and that applies to religion and belief and is it not fair to say that God is a creation of man? There were the gods of Egypt then the gods of Rome and finally the one God of Christianity. Human thinking has evolved so as to believe in a higher power, and that somehow our lives are part of something greater, but that doesn’t necessarily make it true.’
Wilcox raised his head confidently displaying all the arrogance of a dictator. ‘God is merely a figment of the human mind needed to justify our own miserable existence and, in this evolved and technological world of science we now live in, people look for other beliefs to satisfy that logic. There are more atheists than ever, and the numbers are growing with evolution replacing religion.’ A contemptuous scowl appeared on Wilcox’s face and he shook his clenched fist. ‘Well, if they want a world of Darwinism, I intend to give it to them – and only then will they realise the true horror of its reality. With civilisation in tatters and primal survival instincts gripping those who manage to survive the coming apocalypse, they will realise just how wrong they were. Billions dead, the world in chaos and only the truly faithful left standing but leaderless. Rape and murder will become the daily norm.’ Wilcox wagged a finger at Harker, with true wrath in his eyes. ‘Only then will the survivors seek a light to guide them out of the nightmare that the world has become… and the Magi will be there to offer it to them.’
‘That’s pure insanity, John,’ Brulet protested wildly.
‘I already told him that,’ Harker intervened quickly, much to the anger of Wilcox whose lip began to curl.
‘Enough,’ he spat, pointing to the screen and the image of Vatican City. ‘Mr Samprey, would you please erase that vile place off the face of the earth immediately.’
The technician began to run through his ten-second checklist, while Brulet struggled futilely against his handcuffs and McCray continued to restrain Harker and Chloe.
‘There’s an easy answer to the question of whether God exists,’ Wilcox continued, turning to face Harker with a look of determination ‘If he was really up there, then I wouldn’t be able to do what I am about to do now, would I?’
‘Ten, nine …’ Samprey called out.
‘All HAARP facilities online and location locked on.’
‘… eight, seven …’
‘Power surge beginning and receptors at maximum.’
‘… six, five, four …’
‘Generators purged and clear for release.’
‘… three, two …’
Mr Samprey’s voice tailed off and Wilcox immediately swung around to see what the holdup was about. ‘Why have you stopped?’
Samprey spent a few seconds staring at his monitor before looking up in a panic. ‘The other four HAARP facilities have gone down, sir… total loss of power. They’re not even registering.’
‘What!’ Wilcox shouted. ‘How the hell is that possible?’
‘I don’t know, sir, but the only one registering power is ours.’
‘Then proceed with th
at one.’
‘We don’t have enough power, sir. The best we could manage is an earthquake, but without the other facilities there’s no way we could produce the seismic activity needed to…’
‘Then you’d better find out why those other facilities have gone offline,’ Wilcox screamed, now seething.
Samprey quickly bowed his head towards the console, searching for answers, but it was McCray who now offered the cause. ‘Sir, you need to see this.’
Wilcox turned to see the man pointing at one of the computer screens. He then pressed at its keypad, bringing up the image onto the main screen.
The sight drew a gasp of shock from Wilcox and a sigh of relief from Harker, who almost laughed out loud. Eight Chinook helicopters hovered over the wreckage of their own downed helicopter, as lines dropped to the ground and a horde of soldiers in military gear abseiled to the ground. The markings on the aircraft were a mix of British, US, Chinese and Russian, and in the background he could make out Apache helicopters approaching in the distance as, overhead, two Harrier jump jets skimmed in and out of view of the surveillance camera.
‘How the fu…!’ Wilcox raged, his words fading in despair, as Brulet locked eyes with Harker and silently mouthed the word ‘Shroder.’
Harker could already felt the excitement bubbling inside him though it was swiftly dampened by the realisation that even though Wilcox’s plan was now ruined and the world was saved, their own fate was still hanging very much in the balance.
‘Sir, we are compromised,’ McCray declared firmly and he grasped Wilcox’s forearm. ‘We have to go now.’
Wilcox shrugged off the man’s grip and continued to stare blankly at the screen. It seemed an age before he turned again to address the entire room. ‘Everyone leave now,’ he ordered curtly.
The instruction fell upon deaf ears as the technicians hesitated, not knowing exactly what to do next, or where to go for that matter.
‘I said get out,’ Wilcox roared with an intensity that finally broke the stillness, and suddenly all the technicians began to clear the room in a rush. Wilcox then returned his attention to the screen showing the soldiers now pouring towards the surveillance camera and the barn’s doorway.
‘We won’t have long before they discover how to gain entry.’ McCray pushed his way to Wilcox’s side. ‘We have to evacuate everyone now, before they do so.’
Wilcox turned to face McCray, his face ashen white and his lips twisted in a scowl. ‘Forget them… they mean nothing.’
This response caught McCray off guard and his eyes widened in surprise. ‘Sir, these are our people,’ he argued. ‘We have to get them to safety.’
‘They have failed me and so I shall fail them too… fuck them.’
As the two men stared at each other, one in defiance and the other in shock, Harker was already reaching for a keyboard at the nearest workstation. He grasped it in both hands and raised it over his head, ready to strike, but as he did so the connector cables fell back to the desk with a click. McCray spun around to investigate the noise just as Harker brought the keyboard’s edge down hard across the bridge of his nose, sending him down on to one knee, clasping his nose in pain. The assassin barely had time to look up again, before Harker had dropped the now shattered keyboard and proceeded to deliver two sharp punches to the face of the already dazed McCray, dropping him face first onto the shiny tiled floor with an unhealthy thud. There he remained motionless, the force of the impact rendering him seemingly unconscious.
Before Harker had even landed his second blow, Brulet was already rushing Wilcox. But the Magi leader spun off to the left, sending Brulet flying past him, like a matador sidestepping a bull, and in one motion he slid his arm around Brulet’s neck and flicked his forearm, engaging an arm-sword which popped out and clicked into place, the blade pressed firmly against Brulet’s throat.
‘That’s far enough,’ Wilcox snarled as Harker edged closer. ‘Or else I slit his throat.’
Harker halted as somewhere on the floor behind him, McCray began to murmur but his return to consciousness was cut short when Chloe briskly pushed a large 42’ Apple work monitor off the table and sent it crashing down on to McCray’s head, silencing any further sounds from the already wounded man.
‘That’s enough,’ Wilcox demanded weakly, his complexion growing paler by the second. ‘That’s enough.’
Chloe now stepped over to join Harker and both sides fell silent as each of them weighed up their options.
‘It’s over, John,’ Harker said finally. ‘Why don’t you put away the blade? Haven’t enough people died already?’
The statement appeared only to inflame Wilcox’s anger further, and he hugged the sword tighter to Brulet’s throat. ‘Who the hell are you to give me orders, Professor? I say when it is over.’
Wilcox stumbled over to Samprey’s empty work desk, dragging Brulet in tow, and began to tap at a keyboard with his free hand. ‘During my life I have encountered every type of person imaginable: the good, the bad, liars, cheats, psychopaths, murderers; men of action, men with the determination, motivation and ambition to pursue their goals regardless of the cost.’ He continued to work at the keyboard, all the while maintaining the pressure of the blade against Brulet’s throat. ‘From its inception, many of these unyielding individuals have graced the ranks of the Magi with a passion to enter its world and learn its secrets, and yet you – a man of no real conviction – have in such a short time sought at every opportunity to stick your vile little nose into it.’ Wilcox finished the typing and now turned his full attention to Harker. ‘You, Alex Harker, are one of the most irritating, interfering, snooping, prying and meddlesome little shits it has ever been my misfortune to encounter… Well, then, you want in? So be it.’
Wilcox shuffled his hostage across the big room until he was again next to the main display screen. ‘You might not have been around for the creation of the Magi Order… but you will be here for its end.’
The main view screen once again flickered into life but gone was the image of the Vatican, and it instead it had been replaced with an overhead shot of their present location showing the military helicopters that had already landed, and the increasing number of troops that were now crowding the barn’s entrance.
‘The last remaining HAARP facility – Our facility here – will now unleash one final show of force… upon us.’
The floor underneath them was already starting to vibrate and although Wilcox’s voice sounded defiant, his face was filled with fear. His lips had turned downwards and Harker could see tears forming in the Magi lord’s eyes.
‘You might have won this battle, but I shall still be the one to win the war. Only I will be the one to choose my fate, and I take great relish and satisfaction in also determining yours. I sentence you all to death, and among you the Grand Master of the Templars. A fitting end to a war between us that has played out since history was first recorded.’ Wilcox seemed suddenly gripped by the notion and a smile spread across his lips. ‘Yes, I see it now,’ he continued as if trying to convince himself. ‘Maybe it is and always has been my destiny to destroy and rid the world of the blight that is Sebastian Brulet.’
As Wilcox became entranced by the concept of such a destiny he loosened his grip of the sword and Brulet immediately took full advantage of the slip. He flew his hands upwards so the chain connecting his handcuffs came in-between the blade and his neck and then flung his head backwards slamming it hard into Wilcox’s face who fell back stunned. Before Wilcox could recover, Brulet spun around him and pressed the arm-sword back towards the Magi prime’s own neck using the handcuff chain for leverage which slid the razor-sharp blade deep into Wilcox’s throat effortlessly. The whole move was, as always with Brulet, executed so quickly that Harker barely had time to react.
‘Thank you for the offer, John,’ Brulet declared sardonically, standing back as Wilcox struggled to dislodge the sword buried firmly in his neck, ‘but I am afraid we have to decline.’
As blo
od began pouring from his lips, the Magi chief’s legs began to wobble, but instead of dropping to the floor, he slowly descended on to his knees and then slowly slid on to his back like a man choosing to do so rather than being forced to. A lungful of air hissed in its escape from the deep cut in his windpipe, followed by a sickening gurgling as Wilcox began choking on his own blood. During this entire time the dying man’s eyes remained locked on only one person – the one he blamed for everything that had gone wrong.
Harker stared back, as the venomous hatred in those eyes continued to linger until it faded into a blank expression when Wilcox succumbed to his fatal wounds.
If a moment of silence might have been on the cards, it was not one that could be afforded as the vibrations in the floor began to increase in number.
‘We need to go,’ Brulet yelled, pulling Harker roughly away from the grisly sight of Wilcox’s corpse. ‘The tremors are getting worse.’
With Brulet in the lead and Chloe next, they rushed back into the other room and towards the same elevator to hell that Harker had arrived in. Brulet was already hammering the call button even as Harker reached them.
‘It’s coming,’ Brulet called out above the rumble of rock scraping overhead. He gestured to the red digital display above the sliding doors. ‘Shouldn’t be long.’
The next few seconds seemed amongst the longest Harker had ever experienced and he tried his best to remain calm, which is difficult when the whole room was shaking and cracks were appearing in the walls all around. The only thing they had going for them was that, with only one of the HAARP facilities online the effects of the assault were taking longer. But, even then, by the time the elevator doors opened, chunks of rock were already falling from the ceiling above. All three of them leapt into the waiting carriage and Chloe began tapping on the ground floor button furiously.
