THE HISTORY OF THINGS TO COME: A Supernatural Thriller (The Dark Horizon Trilogy Book 1)

by Duncan Simpson

  ‘It must have been. There was something that Nathan said in the library just before he was shot. It confused me at the time, but now I understand. He shouted it to the man who shot him. He said, “I won’t allow you to take it from this place.” There were lots of exhibits in the case, but he shouted it, not them. He knew exactly what they were after, because he was after the same thing.’

  ‘You think that the rod is real and in London?’ Blake tried to talk quietly. ‘You mean the rod of Aaron, the brother of Moses, the first High Priest of the Israelites? You think that his rod, the one talked about in the Bible, the one God bestowed with miraculous powers, is actually buried somewhere under St Paul’s?’ said Blake. The lines running across his forehead had now formed into deep furrows. ‘You mean the same rod that performed miracles in front of the Pharaoh of Egypt, during the ten plagues of the Exodus?’

  ‘Vincent, since finding the notebook I’ve done nothing else but think about it,’ said Sabatini. ‘Tradition says that the rod bore the inscription of the Tetragrammaton, the ineffable name of the God of Israel, along with a word constructed from the ten Hebrew initials of the ten great plagues. This was the inscription that Newton writes about in the notebook. I’m sure of it. According to the scriptures, the holy staff was given to King David and then passed on to his descendants. The rod was used as a royal sceptre by successive Davidic kings and kept in the Ark of the Covenant in the holy temple. Later traditions assert that in order to protect it from the enemies of Israel, King Josiah concealed the rod within the Temple compound, and from that moment on, its whereabouts have remained unknown, until …’

  Blake finished her sentence for her. ‘Until today.’

  ‘Gérard de Ridefort was elected Grand Master of the Templars immediately after the consecration of the Temple Church and St John’s, here in London. He must have known of the rod’s existence and the mission to bring it to London for safe keeping.’ There followed a long silence. Sabatini’s heart had already accepted the physical existence of the holy relic and now she could feel her reason being drawn to the same incredible conclusion.

  ‘Hold on,’ said Blake, ‘I haven’t been to church for a long time, but you think that this object actually exists? Come off it! You mean some magical staff that actually performs the will of God?’ Blake took a large swig of his beer. ‘You know this thing was meant to have transformed itself into a snake and then swallowed the wands of the Pharaoh’s magicians? Oh yes, not to mention it mystically blossomed and then bore fruit in the Tabernacle. It’s all religious mumbo-jumbo.’

  ‘I know it sounds incredible, but how do you account for this?’ Blake looked at Sabatini, who was now holding the crimson notebook in her hand. ‘Don’t you see? It all makes sense.’

  ‘What exactly makes sense?’ Blake fell back into his chair.

  ‘The Star of David. Wren realigning the axis of St Paul’s. The crusader knights. The Peasants’ Revolt. Newton’s obsession with the Temple … it all makes sense.’

  ‘Slow down, slow down. Can you explain all that to me again, one step at a time?’ said Blake.

  Sabatini placed the small metal cross onto the table. ‘The hexagram of the Star of David only came into common usage as a symbol of Judaism around the seventeenth century. Its origins have always been shrouded in mystery. Some have postulated that the motif derives from the design of medieval Jewish protective amulets, but the notebook suggests a different genesis.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Carla, I didn’t read anything about the Star of David. Did I miss something?’ Blake could feel himself getting annoyed. It had already been a long day and it was still only mid-afternoon.

  ‘The Star of David is composed of two interlocking equilateral triangles. According to Newton, each triangle represents the location of three churches: the churches of the Old Jerusalem—Temple Mount, the Holy Sepulchre and the old crusader cathedral of St James—interlocked with the three churches of the New Jerusalem here in London—St Paul’s Cathedral, Temple Church and the ruins of the Priory of St John. I did some research last night, and the earliest known record of the Star of David comes from a late twelfth century Jewish prayer book; the very time of the consecration of the crusader churches. I’ve mapped the position of each of the churches on my computer, and they form a perfect equilateral triangle. The pub we are in now is only several hundred metres from the foundations of the Priory of St John. It’s strange that it is called the Jerusalem Tavern, don’t you think?’

  Blake felt like the wind had been sucked out of his lungs.

  ‘After the Great Fire of London, Christopher Wren had the axis of the new St Paul’s Cathedral moved by eight degrees so that it was in perfect alignment with the Temple Church. The flag of the State of Israel, the Star of David, is actually a map, showing the configuration of the churches.’

  Blake tried to rationalise the information that was being dumped into his head, but he had no time to process it. The academic was offloading her hypothesis at full speed. Reading from a note she had saved on her smartphone, Sabatini continued.

  ‘The Peasants’ Revolt of 1381 was the most violent and widespread insurrection in England’s history. No chronicler of that period has ever given an explanation as to why there was a systematic and vicious targeting of the crusader knights during the rebellion in the city, including the murder of the Prior of St John’s, Sir Robert Hales.’ Without warning, the screen of Sabatini’s phone turned black and the device started rebooting itself. She muttered something under her breath in Italian, and waited impatiently for the phone to restart.

  ‘Every Hospitaller property, from here in Clerkenwell to the Temple area between Fleet Street and the Thames, was ransacked. It all becomes clear in Newton’s commentary. The rebels, led by the shadowy figure of Walter the Tyler, were searching for something so precious that they risked civil war to get it. Newton believed that they were searching for Aaron’s rod, brought to England by the Patriarch of Jerusalem some 200 years earlier.’ She paused to take in breath.

  ‘It still remains a complete mystery today that nothing is known about the leader of England’s greatest civil rebellion. How did this man, Walter the Tyler, become appointed to be the uncontested supreme commander of the revolt? And how did he manage to mobilise an army to march on London in a matter of days? I found some references on the Internet last night, suggesting that some scholars believe that his name, “Tyler”, refers to a Masonic rank, the Tyler being the sergeant at arms of a Masonic lodge who checks the credentials of visitors and stands guard outside the meeting place with a drawn sword in his hand. The more I look at it, the shadier the historical record becomes.’

  Blake felt a caustic plug of acid rise in his throat. He swallowed it and slid his beer glass to the edge of the table.

  ‘Vincent, I know some of this is guesswork, but what is undeniable is that from the 1670s to his death, Newton became obsessed with biblical prophecy. He called biblical prophecy “histories of things to come” and became convinced that they were nothing less than cryptograms of God’s plan for the world. He learned Hebrew to read the original sources of the Old Testament and dedicated the rest of his life to decoding their secrets. He became fanatical about the design of Solomon’s Temple, believing the details of its layout were ordained by God Himself. His papers show that he used the Book of Ezekiel, which describes its floor plan, to produce a complete architectural drawing of the temple. You can see his plan for the temple in the Hebrew University of Jerusalem today.’

  Blake quickly examined Sabatini’s face. ‘Carla, do you honestly think that is enough reason to murder? People have been killed; lots of people.’ Blake then stared into mid-air. ‘My wife was killed. You’re telling me that they all died because of some archaeological wild goose chase?’ Blake could feel his blood pressure rising.

  ‘Vincent, listen to me very carefully. Many people believe that the discovery of Aaron’s rod and its arrival back in J
erusalem would fulfil the beginning of the third sign of the Prophecy of the Tribulation.’

  ‘Wait a minute. The prophecy of what?’

  ‘According to the Bible, the Tribulation is a time of great suffering on earth; war, famine and death filling every corner of the world and, afterwards, the eventual ushering in of God’s kingdom. The scriptures talk of three signs that will herald the start of the Tribulation.’

  ‘Three signs?’ Blake tried to remember Newton’s reference to the three signs that he had just read in the crimson notebook, but his mind just couldn’t seem to get a foothold.

  ‘The first sign was the restoration of the Nation of Israel. That was fulfilled with the formation of the state of Israel in 1948. The second sign was the return of Jerusalem to the Jewish people. When Israeli paratroopers entered the old city of Jerusalem and captured Temple Mount during the Six-Day War in 1967, many believed that they had seen the fulfilment of the second sign.’

  ‘And the third sign?’ Blake’s eyes widened.

  ‘The third sign is the discovery of the rod and then the rebuilding of Solomon’s Temple on Temple Mount. Once the building is complete and the rod is reinstalled in the sanctuary, the Tribulation of the world will begin,’ said Sabatini.

  Blake rubbed his forehead with his fingertips.

  ‘The Tribulation is God’s final judgement on the unbelievers of the world. They will experience unimaginable sufferings, and three-quarters of the world’s population will be destroyed. Only when these horrors have passed will the Messiah come and establish His kingdom on earth. There are countless people who believe this version of the future, and many who would work to hasten its arrival, believing they would be one of the few chosen by God to be spared from the suffering. The discovery of the rod would be seen as a signal to start rebuilding the Temple in Jerusalem.’

  ‘You mean, on the location where Solomon’s Temple once stood?’ said Blake.

  Sabatini nodded, her brown eyes squinting in the winter sunshine streaming through the window.

  Blake understood the implications. He had recently read a newspaper article about a leaked US security memo describing the 37-acre site as the most contested ‘real estate’ in the world. According to the article, US intelligence chiefs had categorised the tensions surrounding the disputed ownership of the site as the single most likely trigger for a third world war. As he recounted the narrative in his mind, he started to feel sick. Temple Mount was the third holiest place in Islam, where Muhammad had been taken up to heaven to be shown the signs of God, its location marked by the Al-Aqsa Mosque and the golden Dome of the Rock. It was also the exact same place where Jews believe the very foundations of Solomon’s Temple were built; the Temple Mount, or the focal point of two sacred revelations and the battleground of two ideologies. Blake held his breath, trying to stop the thoughts that were careering out of control in his head. A realisation gripped him. Something was happening and for whatever reason he was involved. Finally he exhaled.

  ‘Carla, I don’t know what any of this means. I don’t know whether the rod actually exists, but I think I’ve got a good idea of the location Newton described in this book. One thing is for certain. We’ve got to prove it, one way or another, before anyone else gets killed.’

  Chapter 49

  Sabatini released her grip on the armrest of the armchair, leaving a deep imprint of her fingernails in the soft leather. She leant forward, perching her body on the edge of the seat.

  ‘You know where the rod is hidden? How?’

  Blake reached into his jacket pocket and carefully placed a silver object onto the table top. Sabatini’s eyes widened. It was Newton’s pocket watch.

  ‘DCI Milton asked me to see if I could come up with any leads surrounding the watch. Brother Nathan was grasping it in his hand when he was shot. He seemed to be intent on protecting it at all costs,’ said Blake.

  Sabatini nodded. Blake picked it up. It felt strangely warm. He once again traced a circumference along the edge of its case, its smooth surface only interrupted by the three small inscriptions along its rim. With the Bible verse on his lips, he opened it and started to rotate the hands of the timepiece. He breathed the words: ‘For a time, times and half a time.’

  As the black minute hand came to rest at the bottom of its sweep, an audible click came from deep within the watch interior. Released from its locking mechanism, the back case opened to reveal a folded piece of paper hidden within. Gasping in amazement, Sabatini rose from the seat.

  ‘Carla, the crimson book … lay it flat on the table and open it to the last page,’ said Blake.

  As Sabatini duly complied with his request, Blake carefully unfolded the sheet of paper and positioned it over Gérard de Ridefort’s open journal. The physical dimensions and intricate gold bordering of the page exactly matched the other leaves in the notebook. Holding his breath to steady his hand, Blake set the rough margin of the page against the jagged edge protruding from the book’s binding. The fit was exact, like the interlocking borders of a jigsaw puzzle.

  ‘Newton must have ripped out the map and placed it in his pocket watch for safe keeping. He would have worn the watch every day, keeping it close to his person at all times,’ said Blake.

  Sabatini gazed at the intricate design inscribed onto the surface of the page. Despite the ink being badly faded, the form of the drawing was clear. It was a map showing the floor plan of a great church, the distinctive cross motif of the nave intersecting with the north and south transepts clearly visible in outline. Offset to the right of the main entrance was the start of a thin line of gold paint, and its rich lustre was undiminished by the obvious age of the paper. The golden line superimposed an ‘L-shape’ onto the floor plan. From its beginning at the staircase close to the entrance steps, it moved to the centre of the nave before turning ninety degrees and following the central axis of the cathedral. The line came to an end at the very centre of a great dome, its terminus marked by a delicately painted golden cross.

  ‘It’s a map of St Paul’s Cathedral. See, Newton has marked the position of the rod,’ said Sabatini, her voice trembled with the realisation of the discovery. Her mind was then taken by another thought. She picked up the crimson notebook from the table and quickly thumbed through the pages.

  ‘Here … here it is.’ She read aloud.

  ‘Descend the eighty-eight steps and open the stone door, as all will be revealed in a time, times and half a time.’

  ‘Look, the golden line starts at the centre of a circular staircase. It must lead to the sanctuary that Wren excavated under the cathedral. The rod must be buried somewhere beneath the dome of St Paul’s!’

  Blake opened his mouth to speak, but his mind just couldn’t cling onto a thought long enough to express it in words.

  ‘Vincent, don’t you see? It all makes sense. Nathan’s strange behaviour; why he was so insistent on coming to Cambridge; why he was murdered: it’s all to do with the rod. Someone else knows of its existence and they’ll kill to get their hands on it.’

  Blake’s head was spinning. He began to say something, but the insistent ring of his mobile abruptly curtailed his flow. Milton’s name flashed on the phone screen. For a moment he wondered whether to take the call. Eventually he conceded to its persistent ringing.

  ‘Hello,’ said Blake.

  ‘Vincent, is that you?’

  ‘Yes, Lukas, who were you expecting?’

  ‘Thank god, thank god!’ said the DCI.

  ‘Thank god?’

  ‘Thank god you’re safe, man. I thought … I thought … you were toast!’

  He looked over at Sabatini.

  ‘What the hell are you talking about?’ said Blake.

  Chapter 50

  Ema Mats ran her fingertips over the embossed motif at the top of the evening’s programme. The modern design decorated in gold leaf displayed the academy’s name—The
Mats Academy for Business Science—set in the centre of a circle of five stars. A constellation of five stars had been the emblem of the academy since its formation thirteen years before. Mats had been somewhat insistent on its adoption; as the founder and major financial donor of the academic establishment, she had certain privileges. After explaining the design’s ancient association with the pursuit of knowledge, the Board of Governors had passed it unanimously.

  The Mats Academy was a shining beacon of urban renewal. Its vision was simple and ambitious: to seed a world-class business school in the heart of London’s deprived East End. The poorest local students who showed aptitude and ambition were given a free education to rival anything elsewhere in the capital. Mats sought out the students herself, spending days interviewing candidates from local schools, churches, foster homes and even local markets to find those who would benefit most from the school’s programme. After pledging an oath to the goals of the academy, new students embarked on a programme of studies dedicated to transforming inner-city kids into modern entrepreneurs. Once in the network, ‘Mats-incubated’ businesses had an uncanny chance of success. Many had become serious commercial enterprises and covered a wide range of industries, including health care, television production, the restaurant business and advertising.

  During its thirteen-year existence, the Mats Academy for Business Science had established itself as an outstanding institution. The campus for the business school, a converted housing estate in the centre of Hackney, had been secured from the local council at a time when the borough had been labelled as the poorest in London. Backed by the enormous financial resources of her business empire, Mats had made the council an offer for the site that it simply couldn’t refuse. The centrepiece of the campus was the Mats Tower, an eighteen-floor converted block of flats transformed into a state-of-the-art educational facility complete with lecture theatres, library, technology centre, graphic design studios, restaurant, and even a printing press that churned out educational literature under the banner of the Mats Educational Press. Since its opening, the campus had become a nucleus for regeneration in the area, bringing in both private and public capital.