A group of workmen looked up from their labour as Sarah stared back at them. Realising they weren’t a threat, she vaulted over a huge piece of masonry and reached another set of stairs, which she descended three at a time.
She looked left and then right at an intersection, turned left, and then ran back the other way as the mysterious monk emerged through a doorway.
Soon after, she entered the Sistine Chapel, no longer a sight to behold, as craftsmen had removed most of the frescos. Sarah ran past what looked like The Creation of Adam lying on the floor. Shouts from behind spurred her on and more hallways led to a courtyard. She entered another building, and a series of twists and turns brought her to a quiet corridor. She slowed the pace, her energy fading. Gasping for breath, she stopped and listened for sounds of pursuit.
A distant shout made her search for another way out. She jogged round a corner and into a vast plaza decorated to lavish excess. Two more Swiss guards spoke to a black-robed clergyman, sixty yards away. At first, she thought it was Avery Cantrell, but besides the fact Cantrell wasn’t capable of teleportation, this man was half his age. With the three men engrossed in their conversation, Sarah sidled along the wall and grasped the handle of one of a pair of double doors, opened it as quietly as she could, and backed into the room unseen.
She stood there for a moment, listening at the door for any indication she’d been seen; when none came she let out a sigh of relief, then a noise from behind made her eyes widen in fear.
Sarah turned around, a sense of dread upon her.
Her eyes grew wider still.
A host of red robed cardinals gazed back at her with a mixture of expressions, some impassive, others angry, and yet more, stern and disapproving. All were assembled behind a large crescent-shaped table. Some were seated and others were not, and it was one of those that stood, who spoke first.
‘Miss Morgan,’ the man said in a rich Italian accent. ‘We weren’t expecting you to arrive so soon.’
Speechless, Sarah looked at them in shock.
The seconds ticked by and the silence in the room grew loud, until the sound of raised voices could be heard beyond the doors.
The entrance opened and she retreated as Avery Cantrell and his hooded companion entered.
‘Cardinal Cantrell,’ said the man who’d spoken to Sarah, ‘did you forget your robes?’
‘Cardinal Zinetti,’ Avery said, acknowledging him with a nod. ‘I believe they’re in the wash. Besides,’ – he looked down at himself – ‘I’ve always preferred black.’
The comment elicited some mutterings from some of the other cardinals, but Zinetti was undeterred. ‘And you bring your ... companion with you,’ he said, indicating the monk who remained silent at Avery’s side. ‘Would he not be more comfortable in the barracks?’
‘Ruben has knowledge of the events you’re interested in,’ Avery said. ‘Would you prefer to listen to second-hand accounts?’
Sarah glanced at the monk – or Ruben, as she now knew him – who remained immobile, his head slightly bowed beneath the cowl of his loose-fitting robe, his outline hinting at his muscular physique.
As the rest of the cardinals took their seats, Avery moved to one side with Ruben, leaving Sarah on her own as the focal point of everyone assembled.
Cardinal Zinetti, having assumed a central position at the table, leaned forward and clasped his hands before him, his gaze fixed on Sarah. He was younger than most of his peers, in his mid-fifties, the black hair beneath his skullcap unblemished by grey. His eyes gleamed with a fervour Sarah knew well, having seen something similar in some scientific circles: the fervour of righteous superiority.
‘I imagine you’re feeling quite confused now, Ms Morgan. Standing here, as you are, in a place you’ve demonised from afar.’
Sarah didn’t respond. Her hands and feet ached; the last thing she wanted was to be where she was. She looked around at the faces of the old men arrayed before her.
She had no friends here.
‘We want to know about your experience underground,’ said another cardinal to Zinetti’s right. ‘What can you tell us about Sanctuary?’
‘It is said you had a vision,’ said another man, ‘a vision of the past. What did you see?’
‘Tell us,’ said a third man, ‘tell us what you know.’
Sarah knew these questions well; Dagmar Sorensen and his team had interrogated her for days on end, trying to extract every last drop of information from her about how the pendant worked, where she had been, what she had done and seen. Although, this time it sounded like her captors knew at least some of what she’d experienced.
‘Nothing to say?’ Zinetti said. ‘That’s a shame. We had hoped, since we rescued you from the GMRC’s R&D director, that you would be more forthcoming.’
‘Perhaps,’ Avery said, bringing her a chair, ‘Sarah would be more willing to talk if she was given a little time to think.’ He waved to a Swiss guard who’d been lurking in the shadows.
The soldier approached and handed Sarah a bottle of water.
She looked down at the chair, and then at the drink, with trepidation, recalling what the last such receptacle had contained.
‘Drink,’ Avery said. ‘We mean you no harm.’
‘You said I was free to leave at any time,’ Sarah said, holding onto the bottle.
‘Of course—’
‘You can,’ Zinetti said, cutting in. ‘However, it would be in your interest to stay and tell us what you know.’
‘And why’s that?’
‘Something has been discovered,’ said another cardinal. ‘Something ... unexpected.’
Sarah looked back at Zinetti, whose expression revealed nothing.
‘It’s true,’ Avery said. ‘And considering your quest to find gigantis, as you call them, you would be ill-advised to leave.’
Sarah looked from Avery to Ruben, whose face remained cast in the shadow of his hood, then back to Avery. She sat down in the chair, more to ease the pain that had now spread to her back than anything else, but what they said had also piqued her interest. The Vatican, willing to disclose information to her, an outsider? It was unheard of, especially considering their unwavering mission to destroy, steal or confiscate anything Homo gigantis in origin.
‘And I suppose whatever it is you say you’ve found, you won’t disclose until I’ve told you what I know.’
‘Quid pro quo, Miss Morgan,’ Zinetti said. ‘Quid pro quo.’
‘And what’s to stop you reneging on your side of the bargain after I’ve given you everything you want?’
‘We are men of God,’ Zinetti said, ‘our word is our bond.’
Sarah laughed. ‘So you’d like to believe. I’m sure I could find a few million people who’d think otherwise.’
A loud bang made Sarah jump.
An elderly cardinal stood up at one end of the table, which he slammed his hand down on again before reeling off a verbal tirade in Latin, gesturing furiously at Sarah while addressing Zinetti. Sarah found him strangely familiar, but couldn’t quite place him.
The two men continued in a heated exchange, then other cardinals joined in, also speaking in the archaic language.
Sarah had no idea what they were saying, but whatever it was, it appeared there were deep divisions within their ranks.
When things finally calmed down, Zinetti turned back to Sarah. ‘Cardinal Dolmante thinks you can’t be trusted. That whatever you tell us will be distorted, or it’ll be the fabrication of a deranged mind. I admit, I’m inclined to agree that he has a point.’
Sarah knew Zinetti was testing her. Pushing her to see how far her lust for knowledge extended. If he’d known her at all, he’d have known she’d do almost anything to get her hands on the Vatican archives and their secrets regarding the Anakim. What treasures do they hold? she wondered. All those centuries building up records and stealing artefacts. She suddenly had a thought. If they were so interested in what she knew about the Anakim, then perhaps they hadn’
t destroyed as much as she thought they had. A memory of a windswept day on the Turkish plains made itself known at the forefront of her mind. Do they still have the artefacts they stole? she wondered. Do they have the canister that contained my pendant? Her thoughts inevitably turned to the arson attack that had killed her mother. Did they sell my Anakim maps to the U.S. military in Sanctuary? She gritted her teeth. How else could they have ended up there? She knew the Vatican was always the first to every Anakim find, especially those in Europe. The notion sent a thrill of fury surging through her, quickly followed by adulterous excitement. If she played her cards right, she might even be able to convince them to let her see what they had. And if I’m really lucky, steal something back! A tingle of anticipation swept through her body: access to the Vatican’s secret vaults, a treasure trove of antiquity. If she hadn’t been witness to Sanctuary and a living, breathing Anakim giant, it would represent the greatest archaeological opportunity of her career; as it was, it was just the chance of a lifetime.
Sarah glanced at the irate cardinal, Dolmante, who glared back at her. She was still trying to figure out where she’d seen him before, but decided to give it up as a bad job. Whoever he was, he had no love for her, that much was clear.
‘Okay, I’ll tell you what I know,’ Sarah said. ‘On one condition.’
Zinetti suppressed a scowl. ‘And what’s that?’
‘That you let me have access to your archives.’
‘Which ones?’
‘All of them.’
‘Ha!’ Zinetti shook his head, and then laughed. ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘Deadly.’
‘Out of the question.’
Sarah waited before continuing. She had more power than they’d led her to believe. They wanted what she knew almost as badly as she wanted to know what they had ferreted away, if not more. ‘Then just what you have on Homo gigantis,’ she said, ‘or giganthropsis, or whatever you call them. “Anakim” is a Biblical term, isn’t it? Is that what you use, the same as the Americans?’
‘Your terms are acceptable,’ Avery said.
‘You do not speak for the conclave,’ Zinetti told him, ‘and your position here is tenuous, at best.’
‘Do you want what the girl knows, or not?’ Avery motioned to the other cardinals. ‘We all know time is of the essence, let us not dwell on the insignificant.’
Sarah wondered what he meant. Why is time so crucial to their plans? What is so pressing, that revealing their greatest secrets is not worth fighting over?
Zinetti looked like he was going to argue, but then decided better of it. He looked back at Sarah. ‘You will get what you desire,’ he said, his expression pained, ‘but first, you’ll tell us what you know.’
‘What do you want to hear first?’ she said. ‘That sanctuary is a treasure trove of ancient architecture that makes anything made by man look like something from the stone ages, or that our whole culture may descend from one far older than we can possibly imagine?’
‘You spoke to the GMRC about a man called Richard Goodwin,’ Zinetti said. ‘He spoke to you about scripture. What passages did he quote? His exact words.’
Of course they want to know about Biblical passages, Sarah thought, remembering the man in question: Richard Goodwin. Their meeting seemed like an eternity ago, when they’d both remained trapped underground. She wondered what had become of him. Does he remain in Sanctuary, still searching for a way out? Does he even live? The thought saddened her, for despite their brief crossing of paths, she’d felt an affinity with him in their quest for answers, in their quest to solve the mystery of the Anakim.
‘Sarah?’
She looked up at Avery.
‘The scripture?’
She recalled the words in question, while at the same time wondering why she was trusting these men to live up to their end of the bargain. Because I no longer care, she thought, and clenched her trembling hand.
‘The land, through which we have gone to spy it out,’ she said in quotation, ‘is a land that devours its inhabitants, and all the people that we saw in it are of great height. And there we saw the Nephilim, and we seemed to ourselves like grasshoppers, and so we seemed to them.’ Sarah paused before continuing. ‘The people are greater and taller than we. The cities are great and fortified up to heaven. And besides, we have seen the sons of the Anakim there.’
A hushed silence had fallen over the room and Zinetti whispered something to the man sitting next to him.
‘And does this passage accurately describe the underground realm you visited?’ Avery said.
Taken aback, Sarah looked at him. ‘If you mean Sanctuary Proper, then yes, I would say so.’ She turned back to Zinetti. ‘Did you want to hear the rest?’
The red-clad cardinal waved his hand for her to continue.
‘And the angels who did not stay within their own position of authority,’ she said, ‘but left their proper dwelling, he has kept in eternal chains under gloomy darkness until the judgement of the great day—’
A murmur of discontent rippled through those gathered, and a number of heated discussions broke out.
Sarah glanced at Avery, who remained unmoved.
‘Some say you encountered a demon,’ said a new voice.
Sarah looked at Ruben.
The monk slid back his shadowy cowl. ‘They say it glowed with an ethereal light and moved through solid walls.’
The room fell silent once more and Sarah could feel all eyes upon her.
‘They call it the Pharos,’ Sarah said, fighting off the feeling of terror the memory invoked. ‘It shadowed our movements throughout our journey through Sanctuary.’
Ruben stepped closer, his intense green eyes locked onto hers. ‘It is said it cannot be killed,’ he said. ‘Is that true?’
Sarah shook her head. ‘I don’t know, but many soldiers died trying to stop it.’
‘And yet Dagmar Sorensen captured one, did he not?’ Zinetti said, breaking the spell.
Sarah broke eye contact with Ruben and turned back to the cardinal. ‘You seem to know everything already. You tell me.’
Zinetti gazed at her for a moment. ‘How did the pendant work? The ancient Anakim artefact, how did it activate their technology?’
‘It channels the wearer’s bioelectricity to power their devices, but it must be in contact with the skin, otherwise it won’t work.’
‘And this is what was used to bring the Anakim back to life?’
‘It wasn’t dead,’ Sarah said. ‘Just asleep, a very, very long sleep. But yes, that’s what brought it back.’
Zinetti pointed to Ruben. ‘And you can confirm this creature’s existence?’
‘I can,’ Ruben said. ‘I can also confirm it no longer lives.’
Zinetti looked round at the other cardinals. ‘Some would say that is a blessing in disguise.’
‘Yet others would not,’ Avery said, moving to the fore. ‘Are you all so blind to the obvious? Or too scared to accept the truth? What we seek is within our grasp. Answers to our greatest questions. And you celebrate the death of a being we know nothing about? All life is precious, that we know – or in your eyes are some lives more worthy of God’s love?’
‘Be careful what you say, Cardinal Cantrell,’ Zinetti said. ‘In these times of upheaval, heretics seek to test our faith; you would do well to not fall into their trap, lest you become one yourself.’
Avery glared at Zinetti before striding across the hall and flinging open a pair of large shutters.
Daylight streamed into the room, scattering the shadows that lurked at its fringes.
Avery pointed into the distance, where half a dozen plumes of smoke rose into the sky above Rome. The distant wail of sirens could just be made out, as the emergency services sought to stem the latest tide of terrorist attacks that besieged the city.
‘The Knights of the Apocalypse try to divide us,’ Avery said. ‘Even now their followers inflict more destruction, kill more innocents. And yet there are
those within this very hall who whisper behind closed doors, that these monsters that kill in the name of God might not be wrong.’ Avery Cantrell walked back to stand before the members of the conclave. ‘We have all thought it. How could we not? Have our ranks been eroded by an insidious evil? Perhaps they have. Perhaps even now, as I talk, some of you who listen aren’t what you seem. Not God’s servants, nor Catholic brothers, but disciples of the unholy beast.’ Avery placed his hands on the grand table directly in front of Zinetti. ‘Perhaps, dear brother,’ he said, raising his voice so all could hear, ‘you seek to divert suspicion by casting aspersions on another!’
Zinetti stood up, his face livid with rage.
‘Perhaps,’ Avery said, pointing at him and looking around at the other cardinals, ‘this man is the reason for all our woes. A man who has the ear of our Holy Father, a man quick to blame others, a man as manipulative and duplicitous as one could ever meet. The fox in the chicken coop, the wolf in sheep’s clothing.’ Avery locked eyes with his counterpart. ‘The Satanist at the heart of the Catholic Church!’
Chapter One Hundred Thirteen
‘BLASPHEMY!!’ someone shouted.
Zinetti lunged at Avery and grasped his robe, while other cardinals tried to break them apart.
Other scuffles broke out amongst the rest of the churchmen, their red cassocks mirroring the fire in their hearts.
‘ORDER IN THE HOUSE OF GOD!!’ Ruben bellowed.
Everyone turned as one to see the hall’s doors swing open.
A man dressed in a simple black cassock stood framed in the entrance, while beyond him ten Swiss guards flanked the frail form of a diminutive man, just discernable in their midst.
A hushed reverence descended on the room, as those who’d previously been fighting remembered their stations.
Ancient Origins: Books 4 - 6 (Ancient Origins Boxset Book 2) Page 59
