The Immortality Curse: A Matt Kearns Novel 3

by Greig Beck

  “Yep,” Matt replied. “From that stained glass window.” He nodded up at the conglomerate image assembled from all the pictures he had taken from his phone camera that was now projected up on the wall.

  Moddel looked again at the enlarged image. “Magnificent.”

  “It was – right before it was shattered into a million pieces.” Matt sighed.

  “A damned crime.” Moddel cursed softly. “This glass sample.” He looked skeptical. “Matt, do you know how long stained glass has been around?”

  Matt nodded. “Yeah, I know, a long time.”

  “Colored glass was produced by both the early Egyptians and the Romans.” He grinned. “So yeah, a damn, damn, damn long time.”

  “And these pieces?” Matt nodded toward the fragments of glass on the bench top.

  Moddel leaned over the shards, smiling down on them for a moment before picking up a metal probe, and moving them around, fitting them back together.

  “You know, I wish we had all the shards, no matter how tiny, we could have put this back together like a giant jigsaw.” He looked form the fragments to the screen again, using it as a guide to push another piece into place.

  “Yeah, well, we were kinda rushed there at the end. We’ve got to work with what we’ve got. So, how old?” Matt pressed.

  “It’s around 1500 years old.” He looked up. “Makes it one of the earliest specimens of the craft in existence – now you know why I would have liked more of it.” Modell’s brow creased. “So, why would someone place a stained glass window that is absolutely priceless, way out in the sticks?”

  “Good question.” Matt stared at the fragments, his mind working – why was it there? A very good question. But the real burner for him was why, after all those centuries, was it destroyed just as they got there?

  Moddel joined some pieces together, into what looked like a single large yellow orb. Matt recognised it immediately; one eye of the thing that tried to come into the church, and totally destroyed the window – he saw it – it had meant to destroy it.

  Matt felt a tingle of fear race up his spine and he began pacing. “And why would they black some of the panels out? Even back then they knew about the night sky, and other stained glass windows have images of the moon and stars. They wouldn’t have it pure black. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Not a very clear picture you took.” Moddel folded his arms and looked up at the image. “But it was beautiful.” He sighed. “And someone robbed future generations of its magnificence.”

  “Because someone didn’t want us to see it.” Matt stared.

  Moddel looked from the image to Matt. “The medieval windows usually contained a message, and this one was very detailed.” He looked back to the full window.

  “There was writing, in many languages. But there was one that was the most ancient form of Hebrew in existence called Chaldaic. Supposedly the language actually spoken by Noah and his sons. The thing is, no one speaks this language, no one writes it, and no one has for thousands of years.”

  “What did it say?” Moddel straightened.

  “It referred to a place, the Mother of Mankind – Akebu-Lan – it’s an old name for the Garden of Eden.”

  The scientist shrugged. “Intriguing, but still not exactly earth-shattering. Or window shattering.” He jiggled his eyebrows.

  “Maybe.” Matt tilted his head. “Hey, can you rotate that image? Roll 90 degrees right.”

  “Sure.” Moddel fiddled with the projection controls and the image rolled on the screen.

  Matt folded his arms and walked closer to the image. He tilted his head. The shades of green, brown and blue, with the line running through them started to make sense. The line seemed to be following a countour. “You know what this looks like to me? A map.” He pointed. “The blue is water, I can see a coastline, and that could be a trail of sorts.”

  “Yeah, you’re right, it could be a map.” Moddel studied it a little more. “But there are no names or points of reference. Could be anywhere.”

  “Could be, but it isn’t.” Matt started for the door. “Can you send this to Assistant Director Wybrow?” He waved. “And thanks buddy, that was very helpful.”

  *

  Matt and Rachel met back in Wybrow’s office. She was still acting cold toward him, but seemed to warm up as they began to try to make sense of what they had learned. To Matt’s pleasant surprise, Wybrow was very good at drawing out the details and asking questions that acted as springboards to answers, or even better questions.

  “So, you’ve got a piece of a map that might correspond to somewhere in the world – that’s a pretty big playing field.” Wybrow shrugged. “But if the window is 1500 years old, then the map has got to be about the same vintage. Maps then weren’t the same as today, were they?”

  “No, that’s right,” Matt agreed. “Some European countries were fairly well mapped, but not all. Same as the Far East, but as for the far-flung countries, many weren’t even discovered back then. They were still in the great unknown areas, the ones with dragons drawn on them.”

  “Then they’ll be no help,” Rachel said. “If only it had a single point of reference – anything.”

  “It already does.” Wybrow’s mouth curved into a smile. “The ocean.”

  Matt began to grin. “He’s right, you know. Though the mapping of interiors was pretty superficial at best, the seafarers were mapping coastlines for centuries longer than that. And the coastlines nearly always had a point of reference. Their shape alone can be recognizable.”

  “What’s the closest coastline to Mount Ararat?” Rachel asked. “Might as well start with somewhere that was the last known place for Noah.”

  “Good as any place to start; let’s side by side it,” Matt said. “Bring up a map of Ararat, and see if we can identity anything that matches close by. The nearest large-scale body of water is 150 miles to the Caspian Sea in Azerbaijan. Then about 150 miles to the Black Sea, but still in Turkey.”

  Rachel took control of the computer and split the screen. She brought up the Turkish landmass and began to drill down. She sat back. “And about 600 miles to the Mediterranean.”

  Matt let his eyes flick from one to the other. “I can’t see any coastal similarities.” He leaned forward and cupped his chin for a moment. “Hey.” He clicked his fingers. “Try for any maps from 1500 years ago – anything you can find.”

  Wybrow pulled in a cheek. “Reaching a bit now aren’t you, Professor? From 1500 years ago? How many of those are lying around?”

  “Alexander the Great made plenty of maps, and he was last around in 323 BCE. Also there’s Claudius Ptolemy’s 150 AD regional map. Plus, the Roman Empire ruled that entire part of the world a few hundred years before that and they were diligent mapmakers. Sure, there’ll be plenty of gaps, but we might find useful examples that correspond to the shoreline we’re interested in.”

  Wybrow nodded. “Over to you.”

  Matt squeezed in next to Rachel. “Let me.” He started to type, accessing several libraries he knew that had antiquarian maps online. He looked at the candidates and rejected them over and over.

  “Bummer.” He sat back. “No dice; the older they are, the rarer they are.” He shrugged. “And the rarer they are, the more valuable and less likely they are to be shared online. All I’m getting is references, but no images.”

  Wybrow’s mouth twitched in readiness. Matt held a hand up flat to him.

  “I know, don’t say it.” He sat back in his chair. “The high-value maps are either in the hands of private dealers or locked in government vaults.” Matt had good contacts, but anything sold on the black market was unrecorded and probably gone for good. Added to that, even the recorded stuff, if held by overprotective governments, was off-limits to anyone anytime.

  He used both hands to push his hair back off his face. “This is where we need to tap into someone’s network, someone who has access to all the private map dealers – people not on the formal radar. Someone who is
known to have their own collection, wealth, status and credibility – the only criteria that matters for these guys.”

  He spun in his seat, grinning. “And who do we know like that?”

  “Please don’t say Eleanor van Helling.” Rachel sighed.

  Matt pointed at her chest. “Bingo.”

  “You think she can help?” Wybrow‘s brow creased.

  “I have a list of exclusive antiquarian libraries in Europe that we can try. But they wouldn’t even sniff at me, or the American FBI for that matter. But they might open the doors for Mrs. van Helling. And I’m sure she knows a few other private map dealers, who don’t exactly advertise what they have in their collections.” Matt shrugged. “Yeah, I think she can open doors for us.”

  “For you,” Rachel added, her lip curled.

  “For us.” Wybrow stared hard at Rachel.

  She looked pained. “Assistant Director, I really don’t think…”

  “But I do think, Agent Bromilow.” Wybrow clasped large fingers on his desk. “The professor is a subject-matter expert. But you are our agency expert – both skills are vital here.” He looked at her from under lowered brows. “That’s final.”

  “Yes, sir.” Her gaze was flat.

  “Anything else?” Wybrow asked.

  “Yes, sir.” Rachel slid the lab results to him. “These were the things that we found next to the body from the church basement, that may or may not have been Father Xavier.”

  Wybrow turned the folder around and flipped it open. His brows came together as he read. “Says here, they’re still alive?”

  “Yes, sir – worms – seems they were in hibernation, just waiting for rehydration.”

  “That’s weird.” Wybrow’s nose wrinkled and he turned another page. “And pretty damned revolting.”

  “Agent Bilson thinks they might be some sort of nematode.” Rachel seemed to enjoy Wybrow’s disgust. “The worms probably exited his body after death. They seemed to be excreting a particular human hormone – FGF21 – responsible for bolstering the human system to fight aging.”

  “Anti-aging worms?” Matt grinned. “The cosmetic industry will go wild.”

  “The cosmetic industry, the military, politicians, just about anyone would go wild for it. But first they’d have to know about it.” Wybrow looked up at her, his eyes narrowed. “Clarence van Helling?”

  “Exactly what I was thinking, sir,” She responded. “That’s why they burned him up – to destroy everything.”

  “So where did they come from?” Wybrow opened his hands, his fingers spread over the notes. “I doubt they’re from around here.”

  “They’re not. Agent Bilson has never seen anything like them. They’ve never been documented before, anywhere,” Rachel said.

  Wybrow turned in his seat to stare out through the window. “You’re right; an obvious attempt to destroy evidence and leave us nothing to go on.”

  Matt and Rachel waited, and Wybrow put a hand up to rub his jaw, the rough surface making a chaffing sound. He turned back. “This case is getting more confusing the more we know.” Wybrow’s jaws worked behind his cheeks for a moment, and he turned Rachel. “Time for some answers, Agent Bromilow.”

  She nodded. “I agree, sir. We have a few leads we can run down.”

  Matt looked again at the split screen showing the map fragment. “Someone went to a lot of trouble to place that map there, but then also to obscure it so it was hidden from anyone other than those who knew what they were looking for. After all, finding a 1500-year-old stained glass window in Canada is like uncovering a Roman sword in the hands of a Neanderthal skeleton.”

  Wybrow stared and Matt leaned forward. “That map was showing the way to somewhere important.” He nodded at the map fragment. “Whatever it is that lies at the end of that map’s trail, will give us the answers we seek.” He turned back to Wybrow. “But to find its destination, we first need to find where to start.”

  “Eleanor van Helling, here we come.” Rachel sat back.

  Chapter 10

  Central Park South, New York, New York

  “Why not?” Matt raised his chin.

  Rachel rolled her eyes. “Matt, c’mon, really? You can’t possibly believe that map is going to lead you to Noah’s Ark, or the mysterious Fountain of Youth, or even some sort of mystical Garden of Eden, do you? It’s all make-believe.”

  He glanced at her, incredulous. “You did see that thing that tried to break into the church, right?”

  “I don’t know what I saw, now.” She looked away. “Things like that can’t exist.”

  “Maybe they do, but we just aren’t supposed to see them.” He turned to face her. “I have a theory about it. There’s these immortal creatures, angels, that had fallen to earth.”

  “Fallen angels?” she rolled her eyes.

  “Exactly, they’re called Nephilim; their name actually means fallen from God’s light.” He bobbed his head. “It also means the violent ones. The thing was, the Nephilim were said to be banished to Earth to act as sentinels and servants, violently, if necessary. They would perform these tasks until the world ends, or until they managed to return to God’s light through their good deeds and actions.”

  She turned to him. “Sentinels or servants to who?”

  He held up both hands. “That, I don’t know. But just keep an open mind, okay? It wasn’t that long ago that the city of Troy was just thought to be a fable. And rumors of pyramids in America were laughed at.” He raised an eyebrow. “Hell, we even discovered a real life lost world atop a plateau in Venezuela.” He shrugged. “All I’m saying is, I’ve seen things that would stretch a normal person’s imagination or sanity. I’ve found that myths and legends always have a grain of truth.”

  “Well, I want it on record as saying I think you’re well off beam on this one.” She sighed.

  He scoffed. “Well, what do you think is happening?”

  Rachel sighed. “I don’t know; that we’re all going insane, maybe.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, probably. But the important thing is that someone sure thinks there’s something at the end of that map. Something important enough to kill for.”

  She groaned as they pulled up in front of the Ritz Carlton. “Do I really need to go upstairs? Your old girlfriend is hard work.”

  Matt grinned and nudged her. “Just remember what your boss said – this is a team effort, or something like that.” This time it was him that reached across to squeeze her leg. “After all, you wouldn’t leave me alone with just Franken-Greta and my snippy old girlfriend, would you?”

  “Just snippy, huh?” Rachel scoffed.

  The car stopped, and this time another FBI support vehicle pulled in about 50 yards behind them. There’d be no bombers getting close this time – or so Matt hoped.

  Matt was first out. He held the door for Rachel and looked up at the towering edifice. “I’ve got a good feeling about this.”

  Rachel looked up as well. “You do know she’s probably pulling the strings… on all of us? I bet even the Assistant Director is dancing to her tune.”

  “Meh, so what? As long as we’re all pulling in the same direction.” He shut the car door. “My curiosity is piqued now. If this woman can help us, and keep the authorities all onside, then who are we to argue?”

  Once again Matt and Rachel found themselves travelling up in the immaculate elevator. This time as the doors opened the enormous Greta was waiting for them. She stepped aside to reveal a beaming Eleanor van Helling.

  The old woman clasped her hands together. “You have some news.” Her eyes sparkled.

  Matt crossed to her and went to gently shake her hand, but she pulled him closer for an air-kiss on his cheek. He miscalculated and his lips touched her flesh – it was powdery dry, and smelled of way too much perfume.

  She pulled back a little. “Careful you don’t lick all my makeup off, Matthew.”

  Matt felt his fact go hot. “Sorry.” He stepped back and rubbed the powder off his cheek an
d lips.

  Eleanor waved a hand behind her, and Greta maneuvered her chair around into the living room. There was a table set for tea and coffee, with cakes and small sandwiches already waiting. It was set for four, but only two chairs were pulled out for Matt and Rachel, and another vacant spot on one side for the wheelchair.

  They both sat, and Matt immediately began to pile sandwiches and cake onto a plate. Greta tucked Eleanor into the space. She smiled, showing a row of neat, little brown teeth.

  “So, tell me everything, and leave nothing out.”

  Rachel and Matt glanced at each other, but Rachel offered her hand to Matt. “Over to you, Prof.”

  “Okay.” He put down half a sandwich. “We found something in Canada.”

  Eleanor’s eyes slid to him. “Clues to the people who killed my Clarence, I hope?”

  “I think so, and it’s certainly looking like there’s a big connection between events now.” Matt then told her about the death of Officer Oscar Ojibwe and his deputies, finding the old church and also the dead priest in the basement. He rushed over the beheading and burning of the body, and completely left out the detail of the worms that had seemed to come from inside him. As he spoke he shifted his eyes to Rachel who nodded, so he guessed he wasn’t betraying any FBI classified information.

  He cleared his throat. “In the footage retrieved from Clarence’s, uh, death, we saw the appearance of the two men who were dressed in black. They were never identified from their remains.” Matt sat forward. “I’m also pretty sure now it was one of their group that threw the grenade into our car.” He glanced briefly at Rachel again, and saw her eyes narrow slightly as she listened.

  He continued. “And then again, all the way up at Fort Severn, they were waiting for us. They would have killed us, if not for…” Matt stopped himself, not wanting to even try to describe the ogreish being they had seen to the old woman.

  “If not for what, Matthew?” Eleanor tilted her head.

  “We think it might be some sort of cult or secret order.” Rachel added. “They either killed Father Xavier, or got there too late to protect him.” She shrugged. “Maybe they thought we killed him.”