Apocalypsis I

by Mario Giordano

  The forgotten Mil Mi-17, which was carrying a single passenger, landed with a bump on the landing pad in front of the monastery ruins. A man in a white Arctic outfit disembarked from the helicopter and was greeted by two awestruck men who were wearing the habits of Catholic Capuchin monks. Without wasting any time, the man rushed inside the dilapidated building and walked through an ultramodern security door, which opened with a hiss and led him into the fully developed labyrinth of caves that Helena Blavatsky had discovered in 1852.

  The man, who was only called »Master« by his followers, saw himself as the heir to her legacy. He had rediscovered the cave system in the Annapurna massif. He had deciphered the ancient writings and rock engravings and he had understood the meaning of the nine keys. Madame Blavatsky had found one of the keys and years earlier, Seth had personally torn another one from the hands of its keeper. Seven keys were still scattered all over the world and needed to be found. And the most important one, the master key, had been under the lock and key of the Catholic Church for centuries.

  This man, who was now changing from his warm protective suit into a plain lab coat, had devoted his life to a single cause: to wrest this key away from the Church. Only for the sake of this cause had he become rich, very rich. He had murdered people and he had hired people to murder people. He had sown pain and he had suffered pain. He had risen and fallen and he had risen again. He had died and been resurrected. He was a phoenix and he had given himself the name of an Egyptian deity: Seth, the God of Chaos and Destruction. For he could feel that he was a chosen one. Chosen to fight a titanic battle, against the Church.

  Seth against Horus.

  But this time the battle would have a different ending.

  The elevator stopped on the lowest level. The complex cave system was as old as the mountainous mass itself. Deep in the interior of the mountain was the cave that Helena Blavatsky had once discovered. The walls were adorned with exotic signs and symbols. This was why Seth had developed the caves, turning them into the headquarters of his movement. They were the perfect place to conduct unimpeded research into the greatest secret of mankind, and to prepare for the final blow against his worst enemy.

  The corridors were filled with the buzzing of the air conditioning system. Two men in white lab coats embroidered with the symbol of the light were waiting for Seth and threw themselves in front of him as he entered. Then they accompanied him through a second pressurized door into a brightly lit laboratory, which was dominated by a steel cylinder. Although it was insulated with ceramic tiles, the cylinder radiated a tremendous heat. Through a small glass pane in the front section of the cylinder one could see a thick mass in the interior, red-hot and boiling. Pipes led like tentacles from the steel cylinder and snaked across the ceiling before opening into numerous smaller units of indeterminate function. The laboratory seemed almost clinically clean. Only a handful of people were working in here and they bowed immediately and reverently to Seth when they recognized him. The rest of the lab seemed to be operated by machines. Nobody would have thought for a moment that this place, with its state-of-the-art equipment, was in fact the modern version of an alchemical laboratory.

  »Status?« Seth asked succinctly.

  »Master,« one of his two escorts answered without delay, »Section IV has successfully concluded the white and the yellow phase. The substrate is stable and behaves according to the data in the scripts. Now we want to begin with the red conversion.«

  »What about the accident in Section V?«

  »Master, we have everything under control,« his second escort hurried to assure him. »In Section V, a deflagration of the substrate must have occurred during the red conversion. The amount, however, cannot have exceeded a milligram. The security systems worked flawlessly.«

  »And Section V?«

  »Was unfortunately completely destroyed.«

  »Any other damage?«

  »Negative. The vibrations could even be felt on Level II but there were no reports of any damage.«

  Seth nodded contentedly. »This proves that we are on the verge of the breakthrough.«

  After his inspection, he took the elevator back up and minutes later, he entered a tasteful conference room where seven men in white monk habits were expecting him. They all belonged to Seth’s inner circle and the symbol of the light was embroidered on their garments: the double circle.

  When Seth entered the room, they threw themselves prostrate on the floor and did not move before they were spoken to by the Master.

  »May the light be with you!« Seth said as he touched the head of each and every one of them. Then the seven men sat back at the conference table and Seth listened silently to their reports.

  There were no problems except for the destruction of Section V. The truth of the matter was that the devastating explosion had given the researchers an idea as to how they could extract the precious and powerful substance that Seth was searching for, and that he needed so desperately for all his future plans.

  »We might now understand how we can conduct a successful red conversion,« one of the seven men said. »However, it is just another assumption. So a test run might result in the destruction of another section. It all depends on the exact constant temperature of the ovens. But there are also numerous other variables that we can’t know about. Unfortunately, the deciphered scripts are only fragments and contain contradictory instructions. We are in urgent need of a complete text.«

  Seth thought a while, stroking the inlay in the tabletop that displayed the Sigillum Dei.

  Finally he asked, »What about Kelly? How far along is he?«

  L

  May 30, 2010, The Ruins of Misrian, Turkmenistan

  If he is not a cunning fraudster, he is the biggest weirdo I have ever met!« Peter ranted as they returned to their tent.

  »And if only half of what he says is true?«

  »Half of some bullshit is still bullshit. Ellen, this man is mentally ill! To claim that Professor Haase plans to kill him at the behest of some powerful occult brotherhood that wants to get its hands on the formula of an ancient Egyptian kick-ass explosive… that’s paranoid! The guy is nuts! Completely crazy!«

  »But perhaps it will turn-out to be a kick-ass story.«

  »Ellen, why are you doing this? He wanted to impress you, that’s all, and you let him. Why?«

  She shrugged her shoulders. »Let’s wait and see what he finds in this chamber tomorrow.«

  Peter exhaled heavily. »I don’t want you to go with him. Actually, I don’t want you ever to meet with him again.«

  »Excuse me? What do you mean by that?«

  »You heard me. The man is dangerous.«

  »Peter! Is it possible that you are jealous?« She laughed but it didn’t sound as if she were amused.

  »I just don’t want you to. Is that clear?« And he added in a more conciliatory tone, »Please, Ellen.«

  She stepped closer, grabbed his head between her hands, and kissed him. »I have never seen you jealous before, Peter. Why now? He’s not even my type. Do you know who my type is?«

  She kissed him again, this time with more passion. With this kiss, Peter’s panic began to subside. He wrapped her in his arms and reciprocated her kiss.

  »Take that off!« She pulled his T-shirt off and stepped out of her own clothes. She was in a hurry, and Peter saw trickles of sweat between her breasts. When she yanked at his pants, his panic was gone. He pulled her onto the narrow cot and caressed and fondled her body’s familiar curves and dimples, in which the sweat gathered in little oases.

  »Come on, let’s do it,« she whispered into the darkness.

  »Let’s wait.«

  »No, now!«

  As he penetrated her, Ellen uttered a deep sigh and held him even tighter. They didn’t take their eyes off each other and finally it seemed to Peter that everything was OK again. That everything had become one again. That he had arrived in her body. That he had reached her. The world held its breath for one precious and fleeti
ng, yet eternal moment. She was his and he was hers. She was his universe, his origin and his destination, his fate, his direction, and his distraction. She was home.

  »Will you marry me?« he asked into the stillness of the desert night, as they were lying next to each other on the narrow cot. He could only see her eyes in the darkness.

  »What?«

  »I love you, Ellen. I want you to be my wife.«

  »Are you serious?«

  He did not say a word and could feel her breathing next to him. Then she bent slightly forward. Her mouth touched his ear, a breeze as warm as the evening wind, a word trickling into his ear like sand.

  »Yes…«

  At some point during the night he woke up from a restless dream and, for a moment, he felt confused and disoriented. What had woken him? Peter looked beside him.

  Ellen’s cot was empty.

  Peter hurried to put his clothes on, searched for his shoes and shook them out before putting them on and stepping out of the tent. Above him, the Milky Way spread out across the sky. The air was unpleasantly chilly. For a moment, Peter listened to the Turkmen night. The Diesel generator had stopped chugging. There was not a single sound except for…

  A soft murmuring or whispering.

  »Ellen?«

  No answer. He sneaked along the rows of tents until he saw Kelly’s yurt. A dim shaft of light seeped through the entrance and onto the sand, together with the murmuring of voices. One of the voices was clearly Kelly’s. He was chanting monotonously in an unknown language, which seemed strangely familiar to Peter and, again, he could feel his panic rising. The panic at losing what was precious to him.

  »Peter!«

  Peter spun around. A flashlight blinded him.

  Ellen was standing in front of him, fully dressed, and shining the light into his face. She was out of breath as if she had been running.

  »Damn it, Ellen, I’ve been looking for you! Where have you been?«

  »Something woke me up. So I went outside to see what it was.«

  She seemed to calm down and pointed at Kelly’s yurt.

  »What is he still doing in there?«

  »I don’t care. Come on, let’s go back.«

  As he was pulling Ellen behind him, he noticed that her hand was sweaty despite the cool air.

  »Have you seen Ellen anywhere?«

  »Hello, Peter. Uh, no. Not today.«

  It was already midday and the sun was standing high in the sky over the excavation site. Haase wiped the sweat from his forehead and looked at Peter with concern in his eyes.

  »What happened? You look terrible.«

  Peter was fighting against the pain in his head and the nausea that had been tormenting him since he had woken up.

  »I’m okay. But Ellen has vanished. She wasn’t in the tent when I woke up. I’ve been looking everywhere but I can’t find her.«

  »She might have gone with one of the drivers to take some pictures of the desert. What does your friend Kelly say?«

  »He’s vanished too.«

  »What?«

  »I went to his yurt. It is empty, completely empty. His trucks and his workers have gone, too.«

  Now Haase was visibly alarmed, staring at Peter.

  »Come with me!«

  The professor called some of his men and rushed to Kelly’s excavation site with Peter. But it was abandoned too; not a single soul in sight. Only a few forgotten shovels were lying in the wide rectangular dugout in the sand.

  »Damn it, where is he?« Haase gasped out.

  Peter recognized remnants of walls protruding from the sand. One area was covered with a large plastic sheet. When Peter lifted the sheet, he saw some kind of grave with skeletal remains in it. No sign of a passage leading into some subterraneous chamber. Peter felt his headache and the nausea getting worse and worse. And with the pain, the panic was growing. He heard Haase say something.

  »I’m sorry, what did you just say?«

  »When did you last see Ellen?«

  »Last night. Around one.«

  »And afterwards you did not notice her leaving the tent?«

  Peter tried to focus. It was hard for him to think. His head felt like an open sore. What had happened? He was desperately trying to remember the time between the moment when he had taken Ellen’s hand, pulling her back to the tent, and the moment at midday when he had woken up. But his memory was like a black spot yawning at him.

  »I… I can’t remember.«

  Haase acted quickly. He informed the base in Nebit Dag and gave them Ellen’s description. Then he divided his men into pairs and sent them out in the available cars to check the different routes away from the site. Peter took some painkillers and accompanied Haase to a nearby Turkmen village. But to no avail. Nobody had seen a young European woman or an English man.

  It was already evening when Haase, a gloomy expression on his face, came into Peter’s tent. Peter had just begun to search through the things that Ellen had left behind in hope of finding a clue. Any clue.

  »I don’t have good news, Peter. I did some digging on Kelly. But not only does nobody know him in Nebit Dag, the British Embassy in Ashgabat does not have any information either about an Edward Kelly that matches this description. This man is a phantom.«

  »But how can this be?« Peter shouted. »You have been living with him in this camp for weeks! You have to know something about him.«

  »I am sorry, Peter. The few things I know about Kelly, I have already shared with the Turkmen authorities. They fear that he and Ellen might have been kidnapped by a militant tribe.

  »Damn it,« Peter yelled at the professor, »and why did he empty his yurt first? The whole shebang?«

  Haase swallowed awkwardly. »I don’t know.«

  Kelly was nowhere to be found. They found him neither in the Karakum Desert, nor later on through international police investigations. Despite the statements from Haase and his men, it was concluded that a self-trained archaeologist and treasure hunter matching Edward Kelly’s description had never existed.

  Ellen, however, was found the next day. A nomadic family that had set up their summer camp ten miles to the south discovered her body at the bottom of a sand dune, and one of Haase’s pickup trucks brought her back to the camp. As they began to unwrap Ellen’s body from the cotton sheets, Peter collapsed, wailing. In front of him on the back of the Toyota lay the woman he had loved. Or better, what was left of her. At first, Peter only recognized her clothes. Her body was covered with deep, gaping cuts and lacerations, mutilated beyond recognition. Only her head was unscathed. But her murderers had severed her head from her body before carelessly discarding it next to her corpse in the sand.

  Haase indicated that the corpse should be covered over again.

  »No,« Peter gasped. »Wait.« He wanted to touch Ellen, for the last time. Because touching her was his last desperate hope.

  That all this was just a horrible dream.

  That he would wake up when he touched her, simply wake up.

  »Don’t, Peter,« Haase whispered, who was standing next to him.

  Peter slapped the well-meaning hand away and tried to brush a bloody strand of hair out of Ellen’s face, crying and with trembling fingers.

  No waking up. Instead, he began to see the reality of Ellen’s death, as he looked at her severed head. The last expression of her life. An expression of the most dreadful horror.

  LI

  June 12, 2010, Necropolis, Vatican City

  Over an hour passed after the disaster in the Necropolis before Pope John Paul III was informed.

  »Two of Professor Sederino’s assistants are dead,« Don Luigi told him breathlessly over the phone.

  The Pope clenched his hand around the receiver. »What happened?«

  »Two of Professor Sederino’s doctoral students. They must have been driven by the ambition to make the discovery of the century. Be that as it may, they continued to dig secretly in the sealed chamber with the mysterious signs. They found them one
hour ago. Their bodies were…« Don Luigi paused, »… horribly mutilated. Shredded to pieces.«

  John Paul III closed his eyes and spoke a quiet and desperate prayer.

  »I can pass it off as an accident,« Don Luigi continued. »Nobody will ask any questions but…«

  »But what, Don Luigi?«

  The Padre cleared his throat. »We need to take a look at this, Holy Father.«

  Another hour later, and the Pope and his chief exorcist were standing with headlamps, tools and crucifixes in front of a breach in the wall of the small subterraneous crypt with the mysterious symbols. The paramedics had already recovered the bodies of the two doctoral students. However, dried blood, bone fragments, and shreds of internal organs were still plastered over the floor and the walls. Pope John Paul III was fighting against the urge to vomit, and yet he forced himself to look closely.

  »What in the world has happened here, Don Luigi?«

  The Jesuit pointed at the breach in the wall, behind which one could see a steep staircase, roughly hewn from the rock, descending into the depths.

  »Whatever killed the young scientists, it came out of this wall. I guess it hit them the moment they penetrated the wall.«

  »What do you think ›it‹ was?«

  Don Luigi shrugged his shoulders like a doctor making a standard diagnosis. »A demon. … Or something worse.«

  »How nice that you are still in the mood for joking, Padre,« the Pope said and switched his lamp on. »But whatever it was, it has gone now.«

  The Pope clenched his fingers around the crucifix in his right hand and stepped through the breach in the wall.

  »Let me go ahead, Holy Father,« Don Luigi called after him. »I am the expert here.«

  A foul-smelling odor flooded their nostrils as they walked down the steep staircase into a fathomless depth. The lamps did not help much because the dim light was almost completely absorbed by the walls and the thick and reeking air. The two men chanted prayers as they headed deeper and deeper into the stone underneath the Vatican. John Paul III wondered which primeval culture might have built this passageway, eons ago. In the dim light of the lamps, he could make out terrible drawings and unfamiliar writings, which were carved into the walls and looked as if they had not been made by human hands. Yet the staircase descended further and further, no end in sight.