Apocalypsis I

by Mario Giordano

  »You must be a linguistic genius.«

  Kelly waved his hand dismissively.

  »These languages are not exactly complex. When you live with these people for a while, you get the hang of it.«

  »And how long is a while?« Peter wanted to know.

  Kelly picked a tiny piece of meat from a gap between his teeth. »A couple of years.«

  Peter glanced skeptically at Ellen. He had been close to falling for Kelly’s line. But Ellen wanted to know details.

  »How many languages do you speak?«

  Kelly waved dismissively again. »Does it matter?«

  »Come on! Tell us!«

  »Well, about a hundred, I guess.«

  »A hundred?« Peter blurted out. »That’s enough, Kelly. There is no human being in this world who speaks a hundred languages.«

  »Why don’t you test me, Peter?«

  Peter was not in the mood for this game but Ellen seemed to find it entertaining. She bombarded Kelly with random chunks of sentences – catchphrases, quotations, greetings, animal species, traditional folk songs – whatever came flashing through her mind. And Kelly translated it all and immediately into Arabic, Chinese, Russian, French, Hungarian, Norwegian, Farsi, Zulu, Hindi, Urdu, Thai.

  Ellen was enthralled. »Wow, Kelly! How long did it take you to learn all this?«

  »Many, many years. The fact is that I am not a genius. I just had a lot of time. Lots and lots of time.«

  Peter gave a moan. Ellen raised her glass. »Let’s drink to that!«

  First they drank the Bulgarian red wine, then vodka. Kelly blabbed incessantly and even though he treated Peter and Ellen with the same degree of attention, it was quite clear to Peter that his only goal was to impress Ellen. Peter did not contribute to the conversation, confining himself to occasional snappy comments. Ellen, however, continued to fake interest because she was curious. She drank with him, she applauded him, she admired him.

  And she interrogated him.

  »Come on now, spit it out! What kind of treasure is it you are digging for?«

  Kelly lowered his voice to an intimate whisper. »We are talking about the greatest secret of mankind: the treasure of the Templars!«

  Peter burst into a laugh. Ellen elbowed him.

  »Just ignore him, Edward. What kind of treasure is this?«

  Kelly rummaged through a box and pulled out an ancient map that he spread out in front of them.

  »Misrian is a truly magical place. Haase has probably told you what was going on here from Classical Antiquity to the Middle Ages. But this is only half the truth.« He looked carefully at Ellen and Peter to make sure that he had their full attention and added, »Misrian was one of the centers of the Knights Templar.«

  Ellen shook her head. »Come on, Kelly! The Templars never made it further than Jerusalem!«

  »I have proof,« Kelly continued. »The Templars were in Misrian. Jerusalem was just one of many centers. Their main center was in a completely different corner of the world. In the Himalayas!«

  Now Peter was really getting tired of this. »In the Himalayas? Come on, Kelly! Back then, no European knew that the Himalayas even existed! Marco Polo was the first person who ever made it to China.«

  Kelly waved dismissively once again. »Marco Polo’s journey to China is as much fiction as his allegedly close relationship with the Kublai Khan. His travelogue is teeming with mistakes and commonplaces. Polo describes neither chopsticks nor Chinese ideographs, neither tea nor the printing press, neither gunpowder nor the Great Wall. There is not a single scribe, traveling salesman, or anybody else who ever met Marco Polo on the Silk Road, and it was not exactly an unpopulated route. So where was Marco Polo between 1271 and 1295?«

  »You tell us, Kelly! Go on!« Ellen called out cheerfully.

  »He was here, in Misrian! At the behest of the Knights Templar.«

  Peter groaned. Ellen elbowed him again.

  »As I said, I have proof,« Kelly insisted. »In Jerusalem, Hugues de Payens came across a secret that led him and his Templars far into Asia. In the end, they found it in the Himalayas, somewhere in the Annapurna section.«

  Peter was irritated and exasperated. »Damn it, Kelly, what kind of secret is this supposed to be?« he asked, increasingly displeased by Ellen’s fascination with Kelly’s cock-and-bull stories.

  »Bear with me, Peter! Does the name Helena Blavatsky mean anything to you?«

  Ellen and Peter shook their heads.

  »Madame Blavatsky was the founder of Theosophy, an esoteric philosophy uniting Christianity, Buddhism and Hinduism that even Einstein could relate to. Helena Blavatsky was an illuminated mystic and she made numerous journeys to Tibet and Nepal, during which she came across the secret that the Templars had rediscovered in the 12th century.«

  Kelly pulled out an old book and showed it to Ellen. It was entitled »The Voice of the Silence.«

  »In 1852, Madame Blavatsky was in Nepal and, in an abandoned Buddhist monastery, she found an old book. The ›Book of the Golden Precepts.‹ It was written in Tibetan and in Sanskrit. Madame Blavatsky succeeded in translating the book and recognized its epoch-making impact. In »The Voice of the Silence« she describes the book’s ancient, secret knowledge, in code, of course. I followed the hints in the book, all of them, and they eventually brought me to Misrian. There is no doubt that Helena Blavatsky was here. In Misrian she found the greatest secret of mankind.«

  »And why didn’t she just share it with the world?« Peter asked in a bored voice.

  Kelly was aghast. »Because this knowledge would be extremely dangerous if it got into the wrong hands,« he said, as if he were explaining to a child why it was not advisable to play on railroad tracks. »Madame Blavatsky did, of course, tell us everything, but she did it, of course, in code. She left enough hints and clues so that an adept could unveil the secret. It will always take more than one key to decipher a well-encoded secret. Mark my words, Peter. It will always take at least two keys, as with any decent safe. Sometimes even more. Madame Blavatsky studied the old writings and came across the works of John Dee. John Dee lived in 16th century England and was an adviser to Queen Elizabeth I. He was a mathematician, astronomer, astrologer, cartographer and mystic, and was regarded as one of the greatest scholars of his time. John Dee managed to make contact with angels through the use of a medium and the magic of alchemy. He used some kind of magical machine, something called a Sigillum Dei.«

  Kelly handed Ellen a piece of paper with the illustration of an alchemical diagram.

  »At first, the angels, or whatever you want to call these higher beings, dictated to John Dee and his medium their language, which John Dee named the Enochian Language, and he wrote it down to the letter. Then, using this language, the angels shared with him the greatest secrets of the universe.«

  »You’re wandering off the subject, Kelly,« Ellen said. »What has Madame Blavatsky to do with all of this?«

  »Well, Helena Blavatsky recognized the significance of Dee’s writings. And she realized how problematic it was to explore the truth while trying to keep it secret. So she founded a secret organization, the Theosophical Society, where she held séances with initiated members in the tradition of John Dee. Later she wrote a book about the results of her work, ›The Secret Doctrine.‹ Again in code, of course.«

  »Of course«, Peter sighed in exasperation.

  »Later on, however, a man by the name of Aleister Crowley managed to infiltrate the Theosophical Society and decipher parts of the secret texts. After that, Crowley, whom some people dubbed one of the greatest evils of mankind, founded an occult lodge. The Temple of Equinox. Intoxicated by the idea of endless power, Crowley spared no effort in fully unravelling the great secret. And I fear he managed it.«

  Ellen acted scared. »But the consequences must have been disastrous!«

  »That’s hard to say. The worst-case scenario would be that the Order of the Golden Dawn is ruling our world today.«

  »Without the world having
the slightest clue about it?« Peter mocked him.

  »Exactly,« said Kelly, in all seriousness.

  »And now you have come here to unravel the secret, so that the world can finally shake off the yoke and be free again!« Ellen proclaimed.

  Kelly beamed at her. »I knew that you would understand me, Ellen. I love you! I want to show you something.«

  »It’s late,« Peter said, yawning, »I think we should leave now.«

  »Just bear with me a little longer! Just one moment and you will understand everything.«

  »If you are tired, Peter, why don’t you go ahead?«

  Peter stared at Ellen. Gradually, his anger about this bullshit artist Kelly flashed to rage.

  Kelly did not seem to notice that the two were close to falling-out. He picked a couple of fragments from the table and handed them to Ellen and Peter.

  »I found these at a depth of nine feet.«

  Peter stared at the painted fragment in his hand. This one did not show the spiral symbol but an Egyptian hieroglyphic.

  »You found this here?« Peter asked in disbelief.

  »I did. And more than one.«

  »How the hell did Egyptian hieroglyphics find their way into the desert of Karakum?«

  »That’s an interesting question, isn’t it? And I’ve found even stranger things. At a depth of twelve feet, I found a hollow space. Underneath it was a passage. Still completely intact. The passage slopes downwards at a steady angle and ends approximately ninety feet later in a chamber, which is fully lined with metal paneling. I was able to detach one of the metal plates.«

  He handed Ellen a gold-plated metal sheet, which was divided by engraved lines into 56 square fields. Each field was embossed with the design of something that looked like a character.

  Intrigued, Ellen slid one of her fingers over the sheet. And she was startled when some of the gold remained stuck to her finger.

  »You see! And this is only one of the peculiarities of this sheet. The gold itself. The sheet is made of gold-plated copper. But it is an extremely exceptional gold. I had it tested in a lab. It has a purity of 100%.«

  »So what?«

  »In nature, you cannot find gold with a purity of 100%. The purest gold that you can find has a maximum purity of 99%.«

  »So what is this, then?«

  »Alchemical gold«, Kelly said in a sober tone as if he were comparing two plant species.

  »You mean, it is synthetic gold?«

  »Exactly.«

  »Enough, Kelly,« Peter shouted, »really. Thanks for the red wine but we will be going now.«

  He wanted to get up but Ellen held him back.

  »Who manufactured this gold?« she wanted to know.

  »I don’t know. But the gold is only one of the peculiarities of this metal sheet. Do you see these characters? They do not belong to any of the known world cultures. And yet there is another text that was written in this writing. It dates back to the 14th century.«

  He showed Peter a fragment of a medieval vellum.

  »In 1912, in Italy, the antiquarian Wilfrid Michael Voynich acquired a collection of illustrated medieval handwritings. One volume attracted his particular attention because it was written in some kind of cryptography and illustrated with the most mysterious drawings. The origin of what has since been known as the Voynich manuscript could never be verified. And no cryptologist has ever been able to decipher the writing, not even with the fastest of all supercomputers. The only thing that could be verified is that it really is a script, because there are certain regularities.«

  Ellen looked at the lettering in awe.

  »They look like children’s drawings,« Peter noted.

  »But what do they mean? Nobody knows. And do you see this here… and there… and there….« Kelly tapped on different areas of the script and on some of the characters on the metal sheet. »The same symbols! The gold-plated metal sheet and the Voynich manuscript were written in the same language.«

  »Is this Enochian?« Ellen asked.

  »No. Comparing this to John Dee’s Enochian language would be like comparing Swahili to Mandarin Chinese.«

  By now, Peter was really annoyed. »Where are you going with this?« he asked Kelly. »What’s the point?«

  »Well, we have hieroglyphics and a peculiar script on metal sheets, which are plated with alchemical gold. And if we take the time to look again at the hieroglyph… what do we see?«

  »A man holding two cones in his hands,« Ellen said.

  »Exactly. But not just any cones. The hieroglyphs around this one tell us what it is all about: White Bread. Or Mfkzt, which was the ancient Egyptian name for it. This was some sort of white powder. A mysterious substance that played a huge role in Egyptian culture. It was produced as the result of metal refining.«

  »So you think that the Egyptians were able to manufacture synthetic gold and that this powder is the byproduct that proves it?«

  »No, Peter. I think that the gold was the byproduct. The Egyptians were exclusively interested in producing the mysterious White Bread,« the Mfkzt. A substance which was believed to have supernatural powers. In Arabic, it was also called El Iksir. Or as they called it in the Middle Ages: Lapis philosophorum, the Philosopher’s Stone. The knowledge that it does exist and how it can be produced… this is the true treasure of the Knight’s Templar.«

  Peter gave Ellen a meaningful look. In his opinion, Kelly was the ultimate nutcase. Ellen, though, continued to be intrigued.

  »So what supernatural powers does this powder have?« she wanted to know.

  »I assume that it is an explosive,« Kelly said. »Or a highly explosive source of energy. How else could the Egyptians have been able to build their Pyramids? I can prove that here was a monumental explosion right here in Misrian, in the 13th century. At a time when gunpowder was not yet known in Europe. I assume that the ›White Bread‹ could be used to produce a substance that the alchemists called ›Red Mercury‹. An explosive of tremendous power, similar to a nuclear bomb. Allegedly, the Russians developed something similar during the 1940s. The legendary Hermes Trismegistus had already described it in ancient times in his Tabula Smaragdina. But the book was lost. They say that the last copy was destroyed during the fire in the Library of Alexandria.«

  »They say that?« Peter continued to mock Kelly, distinctly displeased about Ellen’s interest.

  »Your assumption is absolutely right, Peter. I am convinced that there is another copy of this book. Here in Misrian. I am on the verge of discovering something that will be a worldwide sensation. Early tomorrow morning, I will open another hidden chamber and unveil the last secret of mankind. If you want, you can join me.«

  Kelly only looked at Ellen when he made this offer. She was delighted.

  »This sounds terrific, Edward! I wouldn’t want to miss this for the world.«

  Now Peter was fed up to the back teeth. »Damn it, Kelly, why are you telling us all this if it is such a big secret?«

  Kelly gave Peter and Ellen an insistent look.

  »Because I need your help.«

  XLIX

  May 30, 2010, Annapurna Section, Himalayas

  The Mil Mi-17 helicopter with a Nepalese registration cut through the thin mountain air, the roaring of the rotor blades reverberating through the whole valley. The sturdy multipurpose helicopter was a familiar sight in this area, and so it did not attract any particular attention. The Kali Gandaki valley separated the Annapurna Himal to the west. The people who lived in this »deepest gorge in the world« had become used to the busy air traffic that provided them with flocks of trekking tourists twice a year. So hardly anyone bothered to look-up at the sound of an Mi-17. Otherwise they would have seen that the helicopter with the civil identification code was equipped with two light aircraft cannons.

  The helicopter struggled to gain more and more altitude as it headed for a small high plateau on the western side of the Annapurna. The plateau housed the ruins of a Buddhist monastery, barely visible with the nake
d eye. It lay at an almost unreachable altitude of close to 15,000 feet. None of the guides of the Newa, Tamang, or Sherpa people ever led trekking groups to the monastery because, firstly, the ruins were said to be a refuge for evil spirits and, secondly, the compound was the private property of an American mining company. Ten years ago, the consortium had bought a huge area around the former monastery and, for a short period of time, there had been a lot of building activity. However, nobody in the surrounding villages could tell what the mining company was actually mining for. At the time, people had talked about gold, but no one had ever seen trucks carrying waste or debris. Yet two weeks ago, they had heard thunderous sounds from up there, like the sounds of an explosion. But they had not seen any smoke clouds.

  In the meantime, helicopters flew to the cursed monastery only on rare occasions, a fact which launched the rumor that the evil spirits had brought so much misfortune and harm to the mining company that they had discontinued their mining operations after a short while. According to another rumor, an American billionaire was planning to turn the ruins into a state-of-the-art luxury resort. A thought that made the people who lived in the Kali Gandaki valley shudder at the thought of all the tourists.

  Another rumor claimed that the Indian military were using it as an interception center against China, with the tacit consent of the Nepalese government.

  The few Sherpa or Newa guides who had dared the climb during the last years had paid with their lives for their curiosity, they had either fallen to their deaths or been swept away by avalanches; and their bodies had never been found. These were all good reasons to stay away from the monastery or, even better, to forget that it even existed.

  The echoes of the rotor blades faded in the deep blue of the sky and disappeared from the memory of the people in the Kali Gandaki Valley, just like their memory of the strange Russian lady who had visited their country 150 years ago, and made a discovery that could decide the fate of mankind.