by Graham Brown
As he wiped the sweat from his forehead he thought to himself, why are you getting yourself all worked up? What can they do to you, even if they catch you in here, nothing? You haven’t done anything wrong yet!
That thought made him a little calmer and once the woman had passed through, he stepped up to the security desk and handed his credentials to the guard. It seemed to take hours just to punch in Faust’s clearance number.
“And what is your purpose for coming to the Vatican today, Dr. Faust?”
As Dr. Faust went to speak, he suddenly remembered that those thought to have been possessed by demons were confined in sanatoriums and banned from the Vatican even after their release. They were locked away and studied for years, like rats. Fear engulfed him, and all he could think to do was run.
“Dr. Faust?”
“Well, I’m not going to blow the place up if that’s what you mean,” he blurted out.
What’s wrong with me?
“Excuse me?” the guard said, no doubt thinking the same thing.
“A little joke,” Faust said. “I’m here for research, of course.”
Faust wondered if they’d detain him. He thought they might not have to. He thought he might have a heart attack on the spot and save them the trouble.
The guard looked at the screen and then whispered something to the second guard. A snicker of laughter passed between the two.
Then the guard went back to the computer and typed a few words in rapid fashion. Dr. Faust tried to see what was on the monitor, but could only see a small section of the screen without being obvious. It read something about contacting Bishop Messini if Dr. Faust…
Faust looked away. This was it. He knew it. This was where these three giants in the room took him away, stashed him in some small cubbyhole and kept him there forever.
To his amazement, it didn’t happen. The guard handed him back his credentials and buzzed him in. The door opened, “Please walk through the metal detector, Dr. Faust.”
As Faust left the room he paused and took a deep breath. He couldn’t believe it. The hard part was over, but then he overheard the security guards talking. The one that buzzed him through said something about, “...Send Bishop Messini a message letting him know Dr. Faust is in the building. It says here the Bishop needs to speak with him.”
Faust wasn’t a fool. He knew it was just a matter of time before they came down to the vault and took him away. But he had to try, and he quickly scurried off through the great halls of the Vatican.
Chapter 31
Five stories below ground Faust sat in front of a giant panoramic window. On the other side of the window lay the vault, a vault that no human entered. This was more than a library; it was a storehouse of artifacts that told the saga of the humanity through the ages. He’d been here four times in his life on official church sanctioned business, and always it had awed him.
Putting aside the feelings of wonder, Faust got down to business and searched the computer database for anything that might lead them to the Dark Star. He scrolled through list after list of searches, entering different terms into the database, adjusting the search parameters, reviewing the results and moving on. He went as quickly as he could, taking few notes and trying to remember everything, like a concert pianist playing without sheet music.
He doubted he had much time and he knew for certain he’d never get another chance to access the vault, so he was going to take all the information he could out with him. When he began to find items relating to the stone of power, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a phone. He was surprised the guards hadn’t asked for it at the security desk, then again he was one of the chief researchers of the Office of History. His clearance to this part of the building was very high. There was no cell signal but the camera worked. He began taking pictures of the computer screen, saving the data without having to read through it. The photos came out slightly distorted but readable. No printing required.
After an hour he came upon a new term, the fallen stone. At first he thought it referred to the Nosferatu, whom the church called the Fallen, but a quick study told him that was just a coincidence. The early church believed the Dark Star was not of this earth. It was a stone that had fallen from heaven, possibly during the battle between Lucifer and the other angels. That, they believed, was the reason for its power. The reason it gave Jacob the power to overcome God’s messenger.
A later note indicated it had been found by a blacksmith, who’d seen it falling from heaven leaving a trail of smoke and fire against the sky. A meteorite, Faust thought. A meteorite from another realm that could upset the balance of power on Earth.
He sent a new request into the computer terminal, a short list of document and parchments appeared on the screen. He executed the command to get the first document, and beyond the giant glass window a robotic machine moved down the aisle towards the desired section and rack number. It stopped abruptly and rose upwards to a height of around ten feet. There, it extended a sterile metal claw and retrieved the Plexiglas slide in which the parchment was protected.
Glass slide in hand, the robot returned to the front of the vault and placed the document under a camera for Dr. Faust to view.
With his heart pounding, Faust glanced around. I’d never make it as a criminal, he thought to himself. Too much stress.
He looked back at the monitor, on screen was the parchment he’d wanted to see. He pulled out his phone and snapped a photo and then sent the robotic worker on another mission.
Chapter 32
Henrick Vanderwall stood boldly in Messini’s office. “The end of the demon’s scourge is near,” he announced with great verve.
Bishop Messini looked surprised. He took off his reading glasses. “I thought you disagreed with that interpretation of the prophecy, Henrick.”
“I’m not talking about the prophecy,” Henrick said. “I’m talking about this office and our purpose being fulfilled.”
Messini raised an eyebrow, “Go on.”
Henrick had brought Doros and John Wellington with him. He waved for them to sit but he remained standing as he presented his case. “The Nova rifles worked to absolute perfection, Bishop. The new crossbows were also effective killing weapons. The armor plated suits, designed by John Wellington, held together as the demons clawed at them, and the new helmets kept the evil thoughts of their minds at bay. Even as the demons burned we were immune from the heat and flame.”
He pointed to Wellington and the other lieutenant behind him. “With these suits, we were able to venture where no hunter has ever gone before, into the heart of the demon’s lair. We destroyed a whole clan of extremely power Nosferatu. Something that has never before been accomplished in the history of the Order.”
He placed a report on Messini’s desk detailing the destruction of one of the more depraved clans in all of Europe.
“The entire clan?” Messini asked.
“More than fifty of them,” Henrick said proudly. “And it was easy. Our communications were efficient, un-garbled and excellent, and the night vision enhancements evened the playing field for us. No longer do we fight bats by blindly swinging our fists in the air.”
“I stand impressed,” Messini said. “On the other hand, I never authorized you to go forth like this.”
“It was a tactical decision,” Henrick said. “Those remain in my purview.”
“If the leader of my order gets killed, that is a strategic matter,” Messini countered.
“I disagree,” Henrick said.
“Yes,” Messini replied. “I’m not surprised. I have a feeling we disagree on many things all of a sudden.”
Henrick was taken aback and slightly confused.
The Bishop quickly clarified it for him, sliding a report of his own toward Henrick. It bore the imprint of the sanatorium in Interlaken. “Now tell me, what have you done with Aldo Gruvaleu?”
* * *
Into his second hour of research, Faust was sweating now, as much from adrenaline as anything else
. He snapped more pictures, looked at more documents and tried to keep it all straight in his head.
He ran one more search, found nothing new and made a decision. Time to go. He put the camera away and fought to contain himself as a wave of joy, energy and exhilaration surged through his body. For a moment, he felt like James Bond. Now all he had to do was escape.
Logging out of the computer terminal, he took a deep breath and began the long march towards the outside world, five stories above. He reached the vault’s anteroom, handed his credentials to the guard and waited.
“A good day for research?” the guard asked in Swiss accented English.
“Every day is a good day,” Faust said.
That brought a nod, but instead of handing the identification cards back, the guard held onto them, tapping one of the computer keys repeatedly. A scowl came over his face. “I need you to stay here for a minute, Dr. Faust. We have an issue with the computer terminal. It will just take a second.”
The guard disappeared into a back room and Faust felt his knees grow weak. He knew that his time was up. He knew it. He briefly thought of reaching around the desk for the switch that would let him through, but what was he going to do? Run? Fight?
Time to face the music, he thought. His James Bond moment was short lived. Now he felt powerless, impotent, a liability, and the only thought circling around in his mind was that he had let his new friend down.
Faust was white as any ghost by the time the security guard came out of the back room and handed his credentials back. “You’re all clear, Doc. Have a great night.”
“What was the problem?”
“A slight computer malfunction; it’s all sorted out now. Everything checks out. Enjoy the rest of your time here in Vatican City.”
Dr. Faust tipped his hat and thanked the guard but didn’t hang around to chat. He got moving, astonished at the kind of luck he was having. He ran up the stairs as fast as he dared made it through one more check point and then, unbelievably, out into the night and freedom.
* * *
Henrick stared at Bishop Messini in shock. He’d thought the men at the sanatorium understood who he was and that Aldo belonged in his custody.
Messini did not wait long for an answer, nor give Henrick time to read the letter. “I ordered you to see if Aldo might be useful in finding this Angel of Forgiveness. Instead you abducted him and used him for your own purposes.”
“It was necessary,” Henrick said.
“Who are you to make such a judgment?”
“He was being abused,” Henrick said. “Probed and drugged by quacks who know nothing of his mind or of our struggle. I would not allow a dog to be treated that way, let alone one of our bravest.”
“So now you’re protective of him?” Messini said. “It was not so when I sent you.”
“I didn’t know his condition at that time,” Henrick said.
Messini narrowed his gaze as if, like a demon, he could see into Henrick’s soul. “Where is Aldo now?”
“Safely in the custody of his brothers,” Henrick said.
At this Messini snapped and stood up. “Aldo is not a hunter. His mind was taken by a demon. It is against the code to put him in their company! And when I ask you a question I expect a clear answer. Now tell me where he is!”
“I act on our behalf,” Henrick insisted, still trying to be respectful, still trying to be reasonable with this foolish old man. “But you must understand what I see. God has seen fit to give us an oracle, created out of the fire of conflict. From the acts of evil he has given us something good. Aldo can hear these demons. His gift is true. He can find them anywhere, any one of them. Even Drakos!” Henrick’s face was red by now. His fists were clenched. “None of them are safe from his sight. They have nowhere to hide. Is this not what we’ve been waiting for?”
The Bishop seemed stunned by the force in Henrick’s voice. He wavered slightly and put a hand on the desk to steady himself. A sheen of sweat appeared on the old man’s brow and a strange look in his eye. He began to speak but his voice was cowed, less strong than he had been only a moment ago. It almost seemed as if he was speaking to himself.
“I’ve failed you… I’ve failed you all… I …” He seemed to gather himself, meeting Henrick’s gaze once more. “What did you have Aldo do? What pressure did you put that poor boy under? You’re reckless… and I’m just realizing…”
As Messini continued to mutter this way, the phone began to ring, but Messini let it be. Indeed he didn’t seem to hear it.
“It was a mistake,” he continued. “A mistake to promote you… I must undo this before something else happens, something which cannot be undone.”
Messini was grasping the desk now, sweating profusely, but through what seemed an act of shear will he managed to focus himself. He looked squarely at Henrick once again. “There is an earnest untruth in you,” he said bitterly. “Simon warned me of this.”
“This is absurd!” Henrick exploded. “I bring you news of a great victory and you treat me with scorn. You question my methods? My judgment? My honor? I am the one who takes the fight to the enemy. Not you. You sit here in an office and ponder things you know little about. Have ever you seen a demon up close? Have you ever felt the unearthly cold of their claws around your neck? The tentacles of their demonic minds trying to penetrate your brain with the poison of fear and doubt?”
“It matters not,” Messini croaked, his throat seemed dry from all the yelling. “This mission is too…”
As Henrick watched, the Bishop wobbled once more. This time his eyes squinted. He grabbed for the edge of the desk again but missed, knocking a lamp off which smashed on the floor as he collapsed into his chair.
Sitting, he raised a finger to point at Henrick but moved the hand to his chest instead. By now Doros and John Wellington had leapt from their chairs. They moved toward Messini with concern in their eyes.
“Bishop?” Doros asked.
Messini fell off his chair and landed on the floor, clutching at his chest.
Henrick crouched over him. Doros ran to the door shouting for help.
“You… are… removed,” Messini grunted.
The words came as a raspy whisper. Only Henrick heard them. He looked into the Bishop’s eyes and shook his head. “It appears, Bishop, that you’re the one being removed.”
John Wellington moved forward to administer CPR.
Henrick blocked him. “Let him go.”
“But…”
The phone kept ringing.
“He’s the leader of our order,” Wellington said. “A Bishop of the Church. We have to help him.”
Herrick found his mind spinning. He knew it was wrong, but the Bishop had to die. Otherwise his weakness would undermine the mission. And Henrick could not allow that to happen, not now, not ever.
The phone continued to ring, the Bishop began to gasp for air and the men at Henrick’s side became frantic.
“Do you want him to take the suits away from us?” Henrick shouted. “Do you want him to send us into battle with nothing more than fifteenth century technology? Or disband us completely? All of you are associated with me. If I fall, you fall!”
“Are you insane?” Wellington said.
“Are you?” Henrick shot back.
The situation was getting out of hand; the phone continued to ring insistently as Henrick tried to keep the pressure up. “You must understand,” he said, “…there’s nothing to…” The ringing phone broke his concentration. “We are the only…” The ringing interrupted him again and Henrick stopped midsentence and turned to Doros who was just standing there. “Will you answer that goddamn phone?”
Doros did as ordered but Wellington used the moment to push past Henrick and begin CPR on Messini.
Henrick stood back. The bishop could not live, not now, not after all this. “Don’t you see?” he whispered. “The Bishop was about to block us and God took him. God removed the obstacle from our path. Can’t any of you see it?”
“It was just security. I told them we were having an emergency.”
“What did they want?” Henrick asked almost absentmindedly.
“They wanted to tell Bishop Messini that Dr. Faust was leaving the Vatican heading out to St. Peter’s Square after being in the vault for the past couple of hours.”
Henrick scratched his head. “Faust? Where do I know that name from?”
“He’s the church caretaker from Cologne,” Doros reminded him. “The one that led the demon into that vault there.”
Henrick stared at Doros. “And he was here? Looking through Vatican archives? Why? For what purpose?” Henrick began to panic. Was something else going on here? Something deeper than his own war. One thought came to mind. Faust was in league with the blasphemer.
“Leave him,” Henrick shouted. “He’s dead. We have to find the caretaker. He’ll lead us right to Christian.”
Henrick grabbed Doros and the two stormed out. Wellington continued to work on Messini until the paramedics arrived a few moments later. He could see it was too late. He stood, sick to his stomach. And then he turned and ran, racing down the hall to catch up with the other warriors and the mysterious Dr. Faust.
Chapter 33
Faust stepped out into the night air, walking at a brisk pace. He could hardly believe it. This had been the most exciting few hours in his life. And he’d escaped to tell about it. Or so he thought. But as he moved through the square an alarm began to sound behind him.
He turned and looked back across the great square as a number of men came running out from one of the side entrances, moving in all directions. At almost the same moment an extra group of security guards appeared outside the front entrance to the Vatican. They moved past the empty barricades that kept people in line during the day and began to fan out.
They were obviously looking for someone. And Faust knew the truth immediately: that someone was him. He stopped looking back and tried to blend in with the people in the square.
