Apocalypsis 1.05 Island of the Light

by Mario Giordano

  EPISODE 5

  ISLAND OF LIGHT

  Lübbe Webnovel is an imprint of Bastei Lübbe GmbH & Co. KG

  Copyright © 2011 by Bastei Lübbe GmbH & Co. KG, Cologne, Germany

  Written by Mario Giordano, Cologne

  Translated by Diana Beate Hellmann, Los Angeles

  English version edited by Charlotte Ryland, London

  Editors: Friederike Achilles/Jan F. Wielpütz

  Artwork: © Dino Franke, Hajo Müller

  E-Book-Production: Dörlemann Satz, Lemförde

  ISBN 978-3-8387-1451-6

  All rights reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced in whole, or in part, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  Visit us at

  www.apocalypsis.de

  www.facebook.com/apocalypsis.de

  XL

  May 13, 2011, Avignon

  Venerable brother in faith, ally in the holy cause of Christ, liberator of the sacred sites, God is light, a source of overflowing abundance and eternity. Cleanse your eye so that you can see the purest light. Become not a channel that both gives and receives at the same time but a vessel that waits until it is filled. Today we have many channels in the church but only very few vessels. Learn to pour out only when your vessel is full and do not succumb to the desire to be more generous than God.

  To our greatest regret and pain, our good brother Malachy, the Irishman, has proven to be a channel. Blessed with the greatest gift that the gracious God can bestow upon us, his eyes saw things that frightened him terribly. But instead of collecting them in humble devotion and for the glory of God like the vessel, he wrote them down so that he could bring them immediately to the knowledge of our dear pupil, Eugene III, who is now our most holy and beloved Pope.

  You know, my brother, how deep the love is that we carry in our hearts for the Irishman. And so we are pained yet more by what we had to do for the sake of the Church and for the benefit of our holy cause. Two weeks ago, the Irishman was a guest in our abbey. He was on his way to Rome, where he wanted to apprise the Pope in full of his visions and prophecies. Without any coercion on our part, Brother Malachy told us about the things that the Lord showed him in his dreams, things that he had described in detail on a parchment so that the world would learn about them.

  We all know what a blessing it is to sense a worm when there is still a chance of destroying it. Those were, at least, our terrified thoughts, as we heard in the words of the Irishman all the things that you, dear brother, told us about the secret. The secret which you discovered by the Sacred Sites, and which we must with all our might and through God’s help return to the hands of our Holy Mother Church. Among other things, Brother Malachy talked about an island of the light. He described it precisely and we recognized it as the island on which we wished to hide the secret for all eternity, once it had come into our possession through pure bravery and divine providence. Brother Malachy described the holy secret in all detail and expressed his justified fear that it might represent a tremendous danger to the Church and the entire world. He talked about the fact that one day, 700 years from now, a Pope would be elevated to the See of St. Peter who would call himself Peter. And that he would be the last Pope, who would reveal the secret and hence bring the apocalypse to the world, and that his number would be 306.

  Beloved brother, you will discern from these few words how close Malachy had come to the holiest of all holy secrets, which we deem so precious that we are willing to convince the King of France, the Rulers of Eastern Franconia and Bavaria, and the Holy Father of the necessity of a further crusade. And you will see, too, how determined Malachy was to disclose the secret to the world.

  But what a tremendous danger it would be, to the Church and to the faith, if this secret became known to the world! Our dear pupil and Pope, Eugene III, is a weak human being. He will turn to Louis with a request for assistance. Which would mean the end of everything we are fighting for. Louis the Younger is a snake, a devious and deceitful man without any sense of justice, an enemy of his own conscience. This greediest of all greedy collectors will not leave one stone unturned in bringing the secret into his personal possession. This will be the downfall of the Church.

  So we spoke to our brother Malachy: Look where the accursed things you do can get you! You are wasting your time and your strengths, ruining yourself with these things that only depress your spirit, drain your heart and weaken the power of your gift.

  But you know the Irish; they are stubborn and unteachable. Malachy could not be dissuaded from his plan, neither by our brotherly love, nor by rational discussion. On the following day, our brother Malachy suffered a regrettable bout of the worst imaginable convulsions, which took his life from him during the following night. In that very same hour, we took possession of his parchments and destroyed them for the benefit of the Church.

  Our brother Malachy was a devout Christian and a true saint. We will do everything in our power to make sure that he is canonized as soon as possible. We will soon leave to join up with Louis and preach for a second crusade into the Holy Land so that you, dear brother, and your order are provided with all imaginable powers and financial means to bring the holiest of all holy secrets into your possession and take it to the island of the light, where it can be kept safe for all eternity. Amen.

  Clairvaux Abbey

  the fifteenth of November in the year of our Lord 1148

  »What do you think?« Maria asked after delivering a loose translation of the Latin text. She put the parchment back on the bed and looked at Peter.

  »That your Latin is terrific.«

  »Anything else?«

  That you are gorgeous, Maria, the way you are sitting here, on this bed in a guesthouse in Avignon, reading to me from a 700 year old parchment.

  »That Bernard of Clairvaux poisoned one of his closest friends because his clairvoyant abilities got in his way. And to atone for it he pushed for his canonization. That’s what I call true friendship!«

  »What do you think this ›holiest of all holy secrets‹ is?«

  Again, Peter picked up the parchment they had found inside the bronze bone and held it in his hands, gazing absentmindedly out of the window. The sounds of footsteps and the voices of nighttime revelers and tourists drifted up from the alley under their window. The rain had stopped and the light of the streetlamps mingled with the cozy light of the little desk lamp in their small room. For a brief moment, Peter wished nothing more than to sit on this bed with Maria, without this parchment and without having to jump at every little sound from the hallway.

  »Peter? Is something wrong?«

  Peter turned back to her. »In any case, it looks as if Hugues de Payens discovered something in the Holy Land which Bernard regarded as tremendously powerful but also as a terrible curse. Bernard wanted to get his hands on it at any cost and remove it to a safe place, but without the knowledge of his pupil or Pope Eugene III. And so he took the Templars, who were at that point just a badly organized group of private security guards, transformed them into an elite unit, and preached the Second Crusade. And, as we know, he was successful.«

  »Except that the Second Crusade was a fiasco. The Templars suffered a devastating defeat during the Siege of Damascus.«

  »Right, they screwed that up. It could be that Bernard and the Templars never managed to bring this ›secret‹ into their possession. But to know that the secret existed was already dangerous enough. So dangerous that it was worth committing a murder to prevent Malachy betraying it through his prophecies. Perhaps this knowledge is the tru
e treasure of the Templars that was hidden for centuries.«

  Maria gave Peter an incredulous look. »Quite a daring hypothesis.«

  Peter shrugged his shoulders. »Have you ever heard about an island of the light?«

  Maria shook her head. »It may be just a paraphrase. Perhaps it’s not even an island. The entire letter is riddled with vague statements. It could be that there is no connection whatsoever between your visions, the Pope’s resignation, and all the murder cases!«

  »There is,« Peter said mulishly, »we have to find this Island of the Light.«

  Maria sat up, regaining her determination and her thirst for adventure. »Good. So where do we start?«

  Peter stood up from the bed. »Tomorrow. You need to get some sleep and so do I.«

  »But tomorrow the Saudi Ambassador expects us back at the airport,« she protested.

  »I thought you didn’t want to return to Rome right now.«

  She gave him a grin. »But you will fly back to Rome tomorrow.«

  »I thought we were clear about this. This whole thing here is my problem, not yours.«

  She ignored his objection and stood up, too. All of a sudden, she was standing close in front of him. Very close.

  You could bend forward now and kiss her, just like that.

  But Peter did not move. He only looked at her and she returned his gaze, just like that. They were standing there so long, it felt like an eternity, until Peter took her hand. Just like that.

  »I…«

  »I am starving!« she said briskly, pulled her hand out of his grasp and began to roll up the parchment carefully. »I am terribly hungry. And after all, we are in France. Let’s go out.«

  Suddenly she seemed thoroughly cheerful and made a little too much fuss of laying the parchment and the amulet into the small desk drawer, locking it and putting the key into the pocket of her habit.

  »Madame downstairs watches the place like a hawk. So it won’t be easy for anyone to get up here. … Come on, Peter! Just for an hour.«

  Peter woke from his trance. »Okay. Fish or meat?«

  »Fish,« she said, beaming. »Fish, fish, fish!«

  XLI

  May 13, 2011, Kuchinoerabu Island, East China Sea

  And what are we now? Guests or prisoners?«

  »I don’t know. What matters is that we are alive and together.«

  She gave a sigh. She hadn’t really expected any other answer. A strong wind was rising from the ocean and rolling up the pale cliffs, bringing with it scattered white cumulus clouds and the scent of salt and seaweed. Everything about this island was radiant: the green of the Japanese cedar trees, the purple of the Rhododendron blooms, the white of the cliffs, the cobalt blue of the ocean and the azure blue of the sky. It always seemed that there was a little bit too much of everything on this barely 8-square-mile island off the southern tip of Japan. In particular, too much ocean. Apart from the coastline of Yakushima Island, which was 10 miles away, there was nothing to see on Kuchinoerabu, just the ocean and the squat crater of Mount Furudake.

  »See it as our first vacation together.«

  She turned her head towards the man sitting next to her in a wicker chair, enjoying the salty breeze.

  »Our first vacation. Yes. But I know that you don’t see it like that. I am afraid, Franz. Very afraid. Not for myself. You know why.«

  Yes, he knew. He knew exactly why the woman in the wicker chair next to him was afraid and he shared her fear.

  »What do you want me to say, Sophia? You know how I feel deep inside.«

  »I don’t want apologies, Franz. To be honest with you, I am even happy that we are here now. It has been a long time since I was this happy. I’m just afraid that all this is just a temporary illusion and that we will soon be landing back in reality, with a thump. And I’m wondering whether we are ready for that.«

  A servant in traditional clothing brought them green tea. Sophia Eichner drank little sips from the small wafer-thin porcelain bowl and observed with fascination the way the large, rough hands of the man beside her gently cradled the delicate cup. Franz Laurenz had swapped his black priest’s garments for a pair of dark blue cotton pants, a white shirt, a navy blue sweater, dark brown yachting shoes and a plain blue jacket. He was wearing a pair of old American sunglasses and only his pallor gave away that he was not some wealthy elderly gentleman with a penchant for sailing.

  »Ready for what?« Laurenz asked.

  Sophia shrugged her shoulders. »You tell me. So far, I haven’t asked any questions. About two weeks ago you called to tell me you were resigning and that the two of us would have to disappear for a while. You told me not to ask any questions. You said it would only be for a short while and that you had arranged everything so that we would soon be back to the way things were. Of course, I believed you. But I did not ask any questions. I went with you to Sicily and then I came with you to this island. And now the two of us are sitting here like a retired couple on their first vacation in forty years, and I have changed my mind. Now I will ask you a couple of questions.«

  Laurenz sighed and took another sip of the spicy tea.

  »I don’t know how long we’ll be staying here, Sophia. It’s not up to me. Right now, I don’t see us as prisoners on this island. We are simply safe here.«

  »What is going on in Rome?«

  »I don’t know. All connections have been cut. I can only hope that Don Luigi stays on top of things and draws the right conclusions. But even if I were able to get in touch with him, it would be best for him not to know where I am. As long as we don’t know exactly what Seth’s plans are, we have to be careful.«

  »I must admit that this does not sound like the apocalyptic battle that you once talked about. And, Franz Laurenz, I am sorry that I have to say this, it doesn’t sound like you either.«

  »I know. But that’s where things stand. Right now, we can’t do anything. Let’s just wait for the news that our host will bring us tomorrow.«

  »Franz, how can you be so calm after everything that’s happened?«

  »I pray, Sophia, I pray. I pray to the Lord that the secret is still safe. As long as the amulet and the documents remain untouched in their hiding place, there is hope. The amulet and the documents are my only chance to avert the apocalypse. If they fall into Seth’s hands, everything will be lost.«

  XLII

  May 13, 2011, Avignon

  On their way back from the bistro to the guesthouse, she linked arms with him.

  »And if people see us?« Peter asked, surprised and at the same time delighted.

  »I couldn’t care less,« she replied, »I’m a little bit tipsy. So if you don’t hold me, I might fall.«

  If you fall, Maria, I will catch you.

  »Tell me about your first boyfriend.«

  »I said I’m tipsy, not reeling drunk, okay? No reason, Peter Adam, to be chummy with me.«

  Only when they reached the entrance to the guesthouse did she let go of him. The suspicious guesthouse owner did not show her face. Peter walked Maria to the door of her room and handed her the room key.

  »Good night, Maria.«

  »Good night, Peter Adam.«

  Again, he resisted the impulse to kiss her. He turned away, more abruptly than he wanted, and walked to his room at the other end of the hallway. Behind him, he could hear her unlocking the door and closing it gently behind her.

  And then he heard her scream.

  Peter spun around and in a few strides he was back at the door to Maria’s room. As he stormed into the small room, he saw several different things at once: the drawer of the desk that had been broken open; the parchment and a pistol that were lying on the floor; the man in the black priest’s suit with the ski mask over his face who was squirming in pain at Maria’s feet, moaning and holding his lower abdomen. Without thinking, Peter yanked Maria out of the room, with so much force that she stumbled and slammed against the wall of the hallway.

  »I kicked him!« she screamed, obviously in a st
ate of shock. »I kicked him!«

  Peter paid no mind to her and threw himself on top of the man, who was reaching for his gun. Peter tried to kick the gun out of the way but the man was quicker, despite his obvious pain. He rolled over and fired. Peter heard the gunshot and felt the draft of the bullet just an inch away from his head. Without giving it any thought, he grabbed the arm with the gun and jerked it violently away from him. The man fired again but this time, the bullet hit the ceiling. The man with the ski mask kicked him in the leg while Peter, still holding the man’s arm, tried to throw him against the desk. But the man was well trained. He stopped Peter with a punch to the liver that took his breath away. Nonetheless, Peter was still gripping the arm with the gun, squeezing it, and then he threw himself with his entire body against the masked priest. They both fell to the ground, right in front of the small bed. The priest fired a third bullet. Peter smashed his elbow into the man’s face and he gave a loud groan, but did not let go of the gun. And so they lay in front of Maria’s bed, wedged together and flailing at each other, both of them with just one arm.

  But finally the man with the ski mask managed to kick Peter away. Instinctively, Peter rolled over and waited for the next gunshot. He saw the man bending over him and aiming the gun at him. Peter recognized the gun type and thought of Maria. Other than that he did not think at all; he just waited for the great darkness.

  Instead, the priest with the ski mask delivered a violent kick into Peter’s belly.

  »Cretino!« the priest gasped, grabbing the parchment and bolting out into the hallway. Peter reached for the amulet that was still lying next to him on the floor.

  »MARIA!«

  He struggled to stand up and staggered out of the room. He was relieved to see that Maria was still standing with her back against the wall, pale but unharmed.

  »Hold this and stay put!« he barked at her and then he thrust the amulet into her hand and ran after the masked priest.