by J. F. Penn
In the Boardroom, Milan addressed the group around the table.
“Gentlemen, I think you will agree that this research isn’t our core competency. Therefore it’s not something I want to heavily invest in. The rollout of the audios for anxiety and depression will continue but we won’t jeopardize its success with any changes. I will assign a small budget for some more experimentation, but on no account will this be made public. Persinger and the neuro-theologians are considered to be way outside the realm of science with this research. I fear it would damage our reputation to be seen dabbling in it. I will speak to Dr Van Garre later. Let’s take a break now and be back here in twenty minutes for the next funding presentation. Thank you.”
The board members checked their smart phones and chatted amongst themselves as they left the room, the proposal already forgotten in their busy schedules.
“Armen, would you stay please?”
The last man out shut the door, leaving the two men standing by the huge picture window overlooking Paris.
“I know what you want,” Harghada said after a moment. “This is the carrier that can spread the final message of the prophecy.”
Milan nodded slowly as he stared out the window. In his mind he imagined curls of smoke rising from the ancient buildings of Paris, the burning of the dead to come.
St Martin-in-the-Fields Church. London, England. 9.13am
Tourist crowds streamed into Trafalgar Square, another busy day in this glorious city as Morgan walked up the steps of St Martin-in-the-Fields. She never tired of coming to London, although her retreat would always be Oxford. This city was life in all its infinite variety. There was no stagnation, it was ever-changing. When people couldn’t take the pace anymore, they had to leave, because London wouldn’t wait. Its waters rushed on, drowning those who couldn’t stay afloat in the myriad depths.
Morgan had walked past St Martins many times but had never actually entered. The daily concerts had tempted her, but there were always other things going on. Jake had suggested it as a place to meet, somewhere they could talk before seeing Marietti, the Director of ARKANE. After Lior had made the call to Marietti back in Jerusalem, it had taken only an hour before she had been freed although Lior had been livid at her refusal to speak further. She feared that perhaps their friendship was now over for good, but ‘no regrets’ was a keystone of Morgan’s world and she had none now. She believed in reinvention and that meant people were inevitably left behind.
At the doorway of the church stood a block of stone, ‘Word became flesh’ carved on its side. On top, a newborn baby emerged from the rock, attached by its umbilical cord to the stone. Morgan stroked the side of the carving, her fingers tracing the baby’s arm. It was beautiful, even though it represented something she didn’t personally believe in. It seemed strange to portray God helpless as a newborn, but the symbolism of the rock was pervasive throughout Christian art and architecture. It was modern art contrasting with the traditional church in a dramatic way.
Seen from Trafalgar Square, St Martins looked more like a classical temple, with its Corinthian columns, raised dais and pediment. The British Coat of Arms stood triumphant over the door with the lion, the unicorn and the motto of the monarch, ‘Dieu et mon droit’, God and my right. It was completed with the motto of the Order of the Garter, ‘Honi soit qui mal y pense’, Shame to him who evil thinks.
The strains of a recital could be heard from within as Morgan opened the door and entered the church. At the front, near the altar, a string quartet was playing. She didn’t recognize the piece but the music lifted her spirits and soothed her anxiety at seeing Jake again. She knew that this church focused on honoring God by being open and inclusive, a beacon of enlightened faith rejecting fundamentalism and enabling people to question and discover belief for themselves. The space was light and airy, lit by chandeliers in the high coffered ceiling. Carvings were picked out in gilt, the gold and ivory color scheme making the church a relaxing place. The dark wooden pews were hard and there were cushions that could be hired to soften them but Morgan chose to sit directly on the unyielding wood to gaze upwards. A second tier of seats rose above the nave on Corinthian columns, ornate capitals picked out in gold leaf. She was also surprised to see a sunburst of gold above the altar with the Hebrew letters YHWH surrounded by cloud. The God of this church was represented not just by the tiny baby outside but the invisible presence of her own all powerful, un-nameable deity. In the corner, a skeletal figure stood holding a dead child in his arms, representing the victims of injustice and violence. Behind the simple altar, a triple paneled window allowed rays of sunlight to fall on the musicians, who sat in a pool of honeyed light.
“Designed by an Iranian woman, you know.”
Morgan started at the soft voice and turned to see that Jake had quietly seated himself in the pew behind her. His dark eyes also looked up at the window, amber flecks picked out like the gold in the detail of the church. Clean shaven, Jake was dressed for the office but she knew that under his smart shirt, he was a man of action.
“What do you think it means?” he asked her, leaning forward, a touch of South African heritage in his accent. Morgan noticed his clean scent and the corkscrew scar just above his left eyebrow, a twister she longed to touch. He was so close and yet there was too much unsaid between them. He had left her, betrayed her, but then he had come back and saved her life. Now it looked as if a shared enemy would bring them together again.
Morgan looked back up at the window. In the centre of the middle pane, an oval of clear glass sat on an oblique angle with black lines of steel skewed around it. They formed a vortex with lines that made an extended cross. Green trees could be seen behind, a breeze rustling the leaves outside.
“Space and time bending around the creation spirit?”
Jake smiled. “The cradled egg thrown into this angular world?”
Morgan laughed quietly. “Whatever it means, I like it.”
He sat back in the pew.
“Are you really coming in, Morgan? We can find Thanatos with the new information you’ve provided. You don’t need to join us.”
Was that hesitation in his voice? Morgan couldn’t read him. But this wasn’t about Jake. She needed the change and the challenge ARKANE would bring.
“I want to find Thanatos,” she replied. “And I can’t let you have all the fun now, can I?”
“What about the University, your practice?”
“I can’t continue with the practice as it was, not after what happened at Pentecost. The deaths made news, even though I was cleared of everything. Oxford will keep me on in an honorary position and I can continue with my research at ARKANE.”
Morgan paused and the sound of strings soared in the space between them.
“Are you OK with it?” she asked.
He looked directly at her, his eyes giving no hint of his true feelings, but his voice was warm.
“Of course. We made a good team before, I’m sure we can make it work again. We can find Thanatos together, and I know how much you want to get your hands on the ARKANE database.” He stood. “Come on then, let’s go. I’ll show you around your new office.”
Morgan followed Jake down some stairs to the crypt under the church and then to the very back of the low domed space where a corridor dog-legged away from the main meeting area. There, amongst brass rubbings of life-size saints and boxes of postcards, was a tiny back entrance to ARKANE. It looked like a store cupboard, completely nondescript. Jake glanced behind him to check if anyone was watching, but the corridor was empty. He swiped his card and put his eye to the retinal scanner that popped out of a side compartment. The door opened.
“Welcome back,” he said. “I hope you’ll stay longer this time.”
His amber eyes flashed a smile and Morgan thought for a moment she saw a warmth born of their adventures together. Then he dampened it down again, returning to the professional standing they had to be on here. But the chemistry was still there. They walked down
a plain white corridor towards another door at the end.
“This area has cameras and sensors tuned to biometrics so you can be recognized,” Jake said.
“And I’m already in the system?”
“Of course; Spooky sorted it out for you. He’s been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”
The elevator door opened as they approached and inside various buttons lit up to show Jake’s access. He pressed Labs and they headed down. Morgan had been shown the ARKANE vault when she had left the Pentecost stones for safekeeping but she hadn’t yet experienced a full tour of the London Headquarters. She was still amazed at how large the facility was, yet it lay under one of the most famous squares in the world and was a secret known only to a few.
The ARKANE Institute was publicly recognized as an academic research centre but most outsiders had no idea about the kick-ass arm of specialist operators solving mysteries and seeking artifacts for the vault. ARKANE specialized in the intersection between science and faith, the acknowledged real and the paranormal, that which fell outside the realm of rational truth. Now Morgan had made the decision to join the team, it felt like her first day at school. She had something to prove and something to give back, especially as they had just busted her out of an Israeli jail.
“This floor is where most of the grunt work is done,” Jake said. “There are labs and meeting rooms, as well as teleconference rooms to work with the other facilities.”
“Other facilities?” Morgan asked.
Jake turned at her question.
“Yes, you’ve seen the one at the Pitt Rivers in Oxford but we also have places all over the world in sites of particular religious or spiritual significance. Some are fully staffed like this and others are just agents working remotely. We also use the facilities of many foreign intelligence services. ARKANE holds leverage over many governments and religious organizations. That’s how we got you out of Jerusalem, by the way.”
“I wanted to say thank you,” Morgan replied quickly.
Jake smiled and then walked down the corridor away from her.
“Don’t worry, you’ll no doubt repay the favor, since we’ll be working so closely together now.”
She heard his words but he turned away, so she couldn’t quite see what he felt about that. Morgan hurried to catch him up.
“So, give me the grand tour,” she said. “Then I’m keen to get on with investigating the bombing at Ezra.”
Jake indicated glass paneled doors to the left and right that opened up into separate work areas.
“We’ve tried to modernize the layout but it was designed for another age so most of the rooms are separate. Each of these workspaces is available to the teams for study. On this level are the open labs.” He stopped to look into one and beckoned for Morgan to join him.
“What are they studying here?” she asked as she looked inside. There were several researchers handling documents with tweezers and white gloves.
“They’re digitizing those manuscripts for further analysis but currently this is the project room for the Mayan doomsday prophecy.”
“Seriously?” Morgan’s eyebrows raised in surprise.
“You don’t think we could stay out of that one do you?”
Morgan laughed softly. “But you don’t believe that it’s going to happen, surely? ARKANE doesn’t believe the world will end?”
“It doesn’t matter what we think, it’s what many believe. The power of belief makes people do crazy things. We have to prepare for what may happen and for how some people may react. ARKANE monitors where the craziness is likely to be so we can move to calm things down.”
“I see.” She paused, looking back through the window at a woman wearing a Muslim head covering. “That scientist is wearing the hijab. I thought ARKANE was primarily Christian?”
“It was originally started as a defense against those who sought to destroy Christianity, even the idea of God, with rational thought and science. But that soon evolved into an investigation of the wider paranormal. We deal with anything that has a remotely spiritual or religious connection now and so ARKANE employees come from all traditions and faiths or in fact, lack of faith. We find the different perspectives enrich the research as we investigate from different angles.”
They continued walking down the corridor.
“I should think what you research here must make lack of faith impossible.”
“Perhaps,” Jake said, as they reached another glass door. “This is one of the more open workrooms integrated into the research system.”
He showed her in and Morgan smiled in wonder. The room was wide, with a high ceiling, and a natural light suffused the walls with warm color. On the far wall, a waterfall could be seen and the sound of falling water permeated the room. There were ferns and foliage making alcove spaces for people to work in a natural and relaxing atmosphere.
“It’s gorgeous, but why a waterfall?” she asked.
“We needed to do something about people being down here in the dark with no windows, so all the rooms have a virtual reality atmosphere with infused light and natural features. It means people can stay down here working for hours and not go mad.” He smiled. “But of course, I have to get out of here as much as possible.”
“Yes, I don’t see you as much of a researcher,” Morgan teased. “But how do others work here?”
Jake indicated an alcove where a young man sat. He had pulled out a screen from the wall and sat working at it.
“There are workstations built into the suite, and then we have Martin’s special project over there.”
He pointed at what looked like a tanning booth hidden in one corner, landscaped behind some bushes.
“What is it?” asked Morgan.
“A walk-in interface with the ARKANE search engine. Once you’ve tried it, you’ll want to spend all your research time there. You can see Martin’s influences on the side.”
Morgan grinned as she saw the little blue police box.
“Bigger on the inside, I guess?”
“Exactly.” Jake explained further. “It’s a virtual reality library where you can interact with the data in three dimensional space. In fact, it’s modeled after the Bodleian Library in Oxford, so you’ll feel right at home.”
Morgan looked at the device. One of the reasons she had come to ARKANE was their mind-blowing access to knowledge. They gathered it from all corners of the earth and all faiths, hacked it from hidden archives and foreign intelligences and scanned it from ancient manuscripts. The data was bound together into a database that made Google look like an abacus. The possibilities were intoxicating to her. Jake seemed to regard knowledge as a tool for the blunt instrument of action but she saw it as a portal to understanding psychology and its link to the faith of the human race. Perhaps it was a key to finding her own path to God.
Jake walked back towards the door.
“Right, let’s drop in on Martin and then we’re off to see the Director. I know how much you’re looking forward to that.”
Morgan stuck her tongue out at him. It seemed their cheeky relationship was back on track.
Martin Klein’s office was at the end of the long lab corridor, a little space that few were allowed to enter without an appointment. Jake knocked on the closed door which bore the nameplate ‘Head Librarian.’
“He’s way more than that, of course. He’s the Brain of the Institute, but he likes the name.” Jake said as the door opened.
“Jake, come in, come in.” A tall man with roughly cut blond hair and thin wire-rimmed glasses beckoned them in. He bobbed up and down on the balls of his feet. “And welcome Dr Sierra.”
He reached out his hand but then snatched it back before Morgan could take it. He spun round to his desk, speaking quickly, his mind jumping ahead.
“I have something here for you, I’ve been saving it. It’s a paper on the meaning of the drawings in the Red Book and how they relate to the Jungian archetypes. I thought you would like it.”
Morgan smiled
and took the paper he held out. She knew a number of men and a few women who came under the high functioning Asperger’s type and understood the avoidance of physical touch as well as the phenomenal mind that too many underestimated.
“Thank you Martin. That’s very kind.”
“And I have a new tablet for you, fully loaded with all the information you need to get started, an orientation of the pod system - that’s the virtual library - as well as all the material I have so far on the Thanatos group, and of course the latest bombings and the prophecies and … ”
Jake cut in.
“You’re marvelous, Spooky. You know how much we appreciate your help. Morgan has to settle in today and we need to see Marietti, but we wanted to pick your brain first.”
Jake’s voice was soft and although Morgan could see he needed to guide Martin’s enthusiasm sometimes, she could feel it was with real respect and friendship. Jake had told her that the ‘Spooky’ nickname came from Martin’s uncanny ability to find patterns and answers in a mass of data. He could perceive hidden truths in the chaotic material he scanned that others would never see. Martin rocked back and forth on his heels for a moment, then picked up a colored marker and went to the back wall.
“Of course Jake, what do you need?”
“We have some disparate pieces of information that we somehow need to knit together,” Jake replied. “Are they related, and if so, how? And are we dealing with Thanatos only or some other organization?”
Martin began to draw as Jake spoke, strange creatures with fantastical limbs surrounded by creepers and flowers. It was as if his creative brain needed to be occupied while he processed the incoming information with his logical side. Morgan was fascinated by how he could manipulate his mind in such a manner and she joined in the conversation.
“The suicides in Israel relate to the Revelation prophecy,” she said. “The pale horse also links it to Thanatos, as they used the image in the hunt for the Pentecost stones. The prophecy says a quarter of the world must die. I think that’s a threat we need to take seriously.”
