Apocalypsis 1.05 Island of the Light

by Mario Giordano

It didn’t take her long. »And spare me the comment that I look like a real woman now!« Maria said as she came out of the restrooms, pushing the last strand of hair under the headscarf. She looked completely at ease in her new outfit.

  Peter bit his tongue and swallowed the comment he had intended to make, vehemently shaking his head. »Nonsense,« he lied. »I’ve known that all along.«

  »Is that so?«

  »Where is the amulet?«

  She tapped with her hand on the raincoat. »In a zippered inside pocket. Anything else?«

  »Is the headscarf absolutely necessary?«

  »Yes, it is. Are you done or is there more that you need to get off your chest before we can move on?«

  »Well, yes…«

  »What?«

  »The look is a bit country bumpkin, but I’ve got to hand it to you: it won’t attract any attention.«

  They put Maria’s nun’s habit into a locker and continued their search for the Island of the Light in the main library of Montpellier. In front of the entrance was a square with a huge bronze sculpture on a plinth depicting a faun playing a flute; Pan, to whom we owe the word panic.

  How appropriate.

  Peter felt as if Pan were laughing at him. This impression got worse when they continued their research in the vast and modern library. They could not find a reachable island with this name, not on any map, not in any atlas. Peter was already beginning to doubt that this island really existed when Maria let out a small cry of triumph.

  »We’ve been so dumb!« she called out to him. »We could have figured it out straight away!«

  She showed him an atlas with historical maps and tapped her finger on a spot off the coastline of the South of France.

  »The symbol on the amulet not only stands for light but also for copper. And here it is, the Ile de Cuivre, Copper Island! Approximately eight sea miles off the coast.«

  Peter was mesmerized as he stared at the 17th century map with the intricate drawing of a tiny island by the name of Ile de Cuivre. »This could really be it. And the distance might be about right. But when you look at the size of this drawing, the island has to be insanely small. Barely bigger than a rock in the ocean.«

  He sat down at a computer right away and began to search for the Ile de Cuivre. To his amazement, though, he could not find any information on the internet, neither a description of the island, nor its inclusion in any current nautical charts. There were not even any satellite images on Google Earth. This island did not seem to exist.

  »Well, there are two possibilities: one, that the cartographer who drew this map invented the damned island; or two, that it has sunk into the ocean.«

  »And possibility number three is that someone made sure that it would not appear on any other charts.«

  Peter gave Maria a skeptical look. »Who would have that kind of power?«

  Maria shrugged her shoulders. »The same person who would have the power to blow up the Vatican?«

  Peter rose from his chair in front of the computer and asked the two librarians if they knew anything about the copper island.

  The younger of the two women just shrugged her shoulders and continued to chew her gum, listlessly. But the older librarian looked at Peter with a strange expression on her face.

  Why is she suddenly afraid?

  »But yes, Monsieur, the Ile de Cuivre does exist. My husband and I are avid sailors; that’s why I know about it. But nobody likes to talk about that island. They say it is cursed.«

  »Cursed? Do you mean that there are ghosts or something?«

  The librarian made a face. »Don’t think for a moment that I am superstitious. I am only telling you what the rumor is among sailors. It’s not actually even a real island. It’s just a huge offshore rock. In Fortignan, you can see it on clear days.«

  »Do you know whether the island is inhabited?«

  The librarian shook her head. »I only know that there is an old fortress. In the old days, it served as a coastal defense, against pirates. Today some reclusive order of monks lives there, that’s what I heard.«

  »And why is the island cursed?«

  »The currents are known for being particularly treacherous in that area of the ocean. Many ships have sunk there.«

  »If that’s the case, why isn’t the island mentioned in any nautical chart?«

  »Don’t ask me, Monsieur! How would I know?«

  She wanted to get back to her work.

  »How does one get to this island, Madame?« Peter asked her.

  The librarian hesitated. But as her younger colleague had pricked up her ears and started to listen, she took the opportunity to spin some more sailor’s yarn.

  »It is impossible,« she said. »Because there are no landing facilities for boats. They say that the Knights Templar built the fortress on top of the rock to have a safe place for their legendary treasure. But these are of course just myths.«

  »Of course, Madame. I appreciate your help, thank you very much. But perhaps you could do me another little favor…«

  A few minutes later, he returned to Maria with three old books about the history of the Order of the Temple in the South of France, and he shared with her what he had learned about the copper island. Together they searched through the books in search of further clues.

  »She is right,« Maria whispered, »they really say that the fortress was built by the Templars in the 14th century and expanded over the following centuries. Here, I found a few old prints of the fortress.«

  The prints even included an old floor plan. The historical illustrations showed a squat and defiant fortress on top of a rock in the middle of the ocean. An enclosed, oval-shaped structure. Exterior windowless walls that rose from the ocean like battlements.

  As he was staring at the old prints, he began to feel nauseous.

  »Looks more like some kind of bunker,« Maria said.

  Peter barely heard her.

  This cannot be!

  Without any warning, ancient and terrible images shot from the depths of his memory like a gigantic magma plume rising from the center of the earth. They broke through the thin crust of his being and exploded, shaking his self-confidence to the core. Images of a fire advancing towards him. Narrow hallways built from stone. Blood. Gunshots. The face of a woman who collapsed in front of him.

  Peter felt the migraine come on and fought against the nausea.

  »Peter? What’s wrong?« Maria was shocked when she saw that he was suddenly as white as a sheet.

  »I’ve seen this fortress before«, he moaned.

  »What? When?«

  »I… don’t know. But I think…«

  »What?«

  »That I’ve been there before.« He doubled over and saw the red cloud rising in front of his eyes.

  It simply cannot be!

  Maria jumped to her feet and ran over to the two librarians, who had noticed Peter’s state and were staring at him with a mixture of worry and suspicion. She asked them for some water.

  »Drink this!«

  She held the glass to his lips. Struggling against the overwhelming nausea, Peter drank the water in small sips and slowly but surely the red cloud in front of his eyes began to dissipate. The monster let go of him. For now.

  »Better?«

  Peter nodded. »Thanks, I’m okay.«

  »Does this happen to you often?«

  »I said, I’m okay.«

  »If you have been there before, why didn’t you remember it sooner?«

  »I don’t know,« Peter hissed angrily, »it was just a déjà vu thing.«

  Maria did not say a word but kept her eyes glued on him.

  »Maybe we should leave. You need rest.«

  Peter pulled himself together and took another look at the historical drawings of the copper island.

  »What was it the Templars wanted to hide there?«

  Maria understood that he was unwilling to talk about his migraine attack.

  »Or better,« she said with a sigh, »what did they do th
ere?« She pointed at the book that she was studying. »In here, they claim that the Templars used the copper island to do research on a secret project. It is further alleged that in later years the island housed an alchemy center.«

  »And what will you be telling me next? That the Templars also found the Philosopher’s Stone on this island?«

  »Don’t be so catty, Peter Adam.«

  Peter continued to stare at the illustrations of the fortress in the old books. His almost eidetic memory allowed him to memorize every detail: accesses, passages, doors, staircases, hallways and locations of the individual rooms.

  You have been there before! Something horrible happened there. You just repressed the memory in the depths of your brain. It is time for you to remember.

  Finally, he turned away from the book and looked back at Maria.

  »I have to get to this island. Today.«

  »And how do you intend to do that? The currents make it almost impossible to get there by boat. And even if you do manage to do it… there will be guards.«

  »I will try it from the air.«

  »Oh, sure! Because that is so much easier! You are a genius«, she mocked him. »Dammit, Peter, how do you want to get from the air into this fortress without being detected?«

  Peter gave her a grin. »You swore again, Maria«, he said. »I am bad company for you.«

  »How, Peter Adam, do you plan to get into this fortress from the air?«

  »Not by myself, that’s for sure,« he replied and stood up. »Let’s go.«

  They searched for a place to make a phone call and found it in an old Tabac on Avenue du Pont Juvénal, not far from the library. In Italian and in a quiet and urgent voice, Peter explained the situation to Don Luigi. After less than five minutes, Peter asked the Arabic storeowner for the number of the phone he was using, and passed it on to Don Luigi.

  »What did he say?« Maria asked, as soon as Peter had hung up.

  »He’s going to call me back. We have to wait.«

  Peter got two coffees to go from the bistro next door, and then he returned to the Tabac to wait for Don Luigi to call him back. He bought some magazines, chocolates and candy without really looking at what he was buying and the storeowner did not ask any questions. As if he were used to having far more suspicious couples in his store.

  Don Luigi called back a good half hour later and gave Peter a name and a meeting point.

  »It is probably redundant for me to tell you that your plan is insane, Peter.«

  »I know. But I can do it. And there are no other options anyway.«

  »May God be with you, Peter.«

  Peter hung up.

  »Would you mind telling me what you are planning to do?« Maria said. »It’s just that I would like to know what I’m in for in case I have to put my life on the line again.«

  »You will stay here and wait for me,« Peter said and dismissed her attempt to protest with a wave of his hand. »Listen. I can only do this alone.«

  »What? What is it that you can only do alone?«

  »I will parachute onto the island. As soon as it is dark outside.«

  For a brief moment, Maria just stared at him.

  »Are you suicidal?«

  »I’ve done this before. Back in the old days.«

  »But not in the dark!!!«

  »The fortress has a small beacon fire. I will use it for guidance. The weather is good, no wind, just a gentle breeze. That’s good. I can do it.«

  »And what if you can’t?«

  Peter just looked at Maria.

  She is worried about you. She is seriously worried. About you.

  »Answer me, Peter Adam! What if you fail?«

  Instead of giving her an answer, Peter did what he would have loved to do the other day, when she had linked arms with him. This time he acted on his impulse, bending forward and kissing her. She did not even seem surprised or shocked, and she did not try to get away from him. Her lips were warm and full and they opened slightly when he pulled her body close to his. He could feel her breasts against his chest, her hips, her cheek against his. And still no resistance. She was still responding to his kiss as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

  Until his tongue came into play.

  She pushed him away from her, gently but insistently. The Arabic storeowner grinned contentedly.

  »Enough,« she whispered, almost aghast, and then she abruptly left the store.

  Throughout the entire afternoon, neither of them mentioned the kiss, not with a single word. But Peter could clearly sense that he had crossed a dangerous boundary. And by crossing this boundary, he had possibly pushed Maria away from him.

  What an idiot you are! Was this necessary?

  Yes, it had been necessary. Peter did not regret the kiss, not one bit. He just hoped that it had not damaged something between them.

  They spent the afternoon in a little park where they could be alone for a while.

  »Tell me about Ellen,« Maria said all of a sudden.

  »How do you know about Ellen?«

  »I asked Don Luigi a couple of questions about you. But he didn’t tell me much.«

  Peter sighed. »Well, then you know that Ellen is dead. I don’t want to talk about it.«

  »You loved her very much, didn’t you?«

  »Yes, I did.«

  »How did she die?«

  »As I said, I don’t want to talk about it!«

  Maria didn’t say a word, but she seemed to be a little hurt by his unexpectedly harsh responses. There was an oppressive silence hanging in the air, and Peter wanted to prevent it getting any heavier than it already was, so he began to talk about himself. About the fact that he had always felt incomplete, for as long as he could remember. About the fact that he had killed a human being, in Afghanistan, where he had been buried alive in a dugout. He told her about the fear that he had experienced in this hole, about his desperate wish never to have to kill again, and about his migraine attacks that had been plaguing him ever since. And he told her about Elke and Lutz, his adoptive parents who lived in Cologne.

  »What about your real parents?« Maria asked.

  »They are my real parents.«

  »I am sorry. I mean, your biological parents.«

  »As far as I know, they died in a car accident when I was four years old. I know their names and I even have a picture of them, but I can’t remember them.«

  »Not at all?«

  Peter shook his head. »This could be a result of the accident. Afterwards, I lived in an orphanage for a while. And on my fifth birthday, my parents adopted me.«

  »And what about the family of your biological parents? Are you in touch with any of them?«

  »There is no family.«

  She furrowed her brows. »You are a journalist. Have you never tried to track them down?«

  »Of course. There were once grandparents. But they were already dead when I began to search for them.«

  Why are you lying to her? You kissed her a few hours ago, so don’t lie to her now!

  She acted as if she believed him and left it at that.

  »Where is the meeting point?« she asked him instead.

  XLV

  May 14, 2011, Ile de Cuivre, Mediterranean Sea

  Towards the evening, they took a cab to Montpellier airport. A man in a baseball cap was standing in front of the gate which the Mercedes had disappeared behind. Peter guessed that he was in his mid-thirties.

  Athletic guy who knows how to defend himself.

  Peter asked the cab driver to wait. The guy with the baseball cap walked up to him.

  »Monsieur Adam?«

  »Yes. Are you Noah?«

  The man with the baseball cap broke into a grin and stretched out his hand. »That’s me. I will be your pilot.«

  He greeted Maria with a kiss on her hand.

  »I thought there would be only one person.«

  »And that’s how it is. It will be just me flying with you. Madame…« Peter paused, irritated. />
  Shit! You don’t even know her last name!

  »Krüger,« Maria said with a smile.

  Krüger??? Never in a million years!

  »Madame Krüger will be waiting for me.«

  Noah, the pilot, stared at Maria with open interest.

  »You can sit in the cockpit, if you like.«

  »Thank you, but I am afraid of flying.«

  Noah shrugged his shoulders in regret. »Eh bien. Then let’s get rolling! Shall we? Everything is prepared.«

  He pulled a small beeper from the pocket of his jacket and pushed a button. Immediately the huge sliding door began to open.

  Peter took a deep breath and turned to Maria. A mild wind was playing in the palm trees by the gate, reminding Peter of the dangers of the task at hand. But here he was, standing in front of the woman he had kissed only a few hours earlier, and the palm trees were rustling and the air was filled with the scent of hibiscus, the scent of spring, and the scent of promise. Not a good moment to say goodbye.

  »Take care of yourself, Peter Adam,« Maria said. And before he could say anything in return, she kissed him. It was a kiss as gentle and as fleeting as a summer rain.

  »God bless you.«

  God. Again and again: God. Was it ever possible to do without Him? Just for a change?

  Hastily and without waiting for a reply, Maria slipped back into the cab and closed the door. Peter struggled against the impulse to call her name. He would have loved nothing better than to abort the entire operation. But the cab was already turning around, quickly disappearing in the direction of the city. His last opportunity to abort the whole thing and he had missed it.

  »How many jumps have you made?« Noah wanted to know.

  »A little over two hundred.«

  Noah nodded, impressed. »Private jumps or for the military?«

  »We should get going and not stand around and yak,« Peter said brusquely, and then he walked through the gate into the airport grounds.

  He could not find any sign of the battered Mercedes. But he was no longer interested in the car, anyway. Noah led him to a blue hangar and handed him a freshly packed parachute. A flat backpack with a solid harness.

  »A parafoil,« Noah explained, »easy to steer.«

  Peter checked the text on the sew-on badge and saw that the parachute was properly registered.