by Mark A Biggs
At precisely 3.45pm, eight minutes into Olivia’s tour of Melk, the CIA, through one of its associates, notified the BMI of an imminent threat to a member of the British Royal Family currently visiting Melk Abbey. They were told that a terrorist cell was preparing to attack the monastery. Four minutes later the Professor switched off the Abbey’s security systems, leaving the phone lines in place, anticipating an incoming call to the monastery from Einsatzkommando Cobra (EKO Cobra), the Austrian Police Tactical Unit. The call happened at 3.57pm and the Professor monitored it, waiting until he heard the Abbey say that their security systems had been compromised. When EKO directed them to enter lock-down, he severed the connection. Thirty seconds later, the Professor heard an announcement on the Abbey’s internal PA system, via the microphone Olivia was carrying.
“Attention visitors to Melk Abbey. Due to an unspecified security risk, we have been directed by the Austrian authorities to place the Abbey in lock-down. We are sorry but no one will be permitted to enter or leave the building until the police arrive. This is a purely precautionary measure and we appreciate your understanding and patience. We will keep you informed of any developments”.
The message was repeated in German and French. On the live feed coming from Lucia’s body camera, the Professor watched as Inspector Axel rushed towards Olivia, in the guise of offering her his protection. He saw a man appear and whisper something into the ear of the Abbot Principal, but couldn’t make out what was being said. The Abbot left the group and, moments later, as they had expected, Olivia was ushered past all of the other tour groups and into the main library, with its fireproof security doors. She was sealed in, along with others already inside. Lucia took the opportunity to slip away, entering a private part of the Abbey through a door labelled “no entry”, which abutted the hall she was in. Inside, Lucia propped and listened for approaching people but the whole place seemed deserted. Despite having rehearsed this scenario a hundred times, she checked the map of the Abbey on her smartphone before proceeding. Cautiously, she made her way to the lower library, the room housing the sculpture of Pope Alexander VII – Fabio Chigi. Recognising the Library door from the virtual reality model the Professor had created, she pressed her ear against it, listening. It was more a behaviour of habit because, in truth, the solid timber door was way too thick for sound to penetrate. With stealth, Lucia turned the elegantly carved brass knob and the heavy door glided open. Inside, the room was empty of people, but its two other entrances made her nervous. With the chaos above, she was confident there was the time she needed. Had she not “virtually” been in the library before, its splendour and grandeur may have taken her breath away. Although not a spiritual woman, being in the presence of such craftsmanship, a monument to the abilities of mankind, caused a tingle to run up her spine. As expected, the sculpture was in the corner of the room but, as she walked briskly towards it, alarm bells in her head started to ring. ‘Professor,’ she said, whispering into the microphone. ‘It’s free-standing; you can walk all the way around it!’
Through her earpiece, she heard him say, ‘I can see, don’t worry. When you find the trigger, the statue will roll back, or a secret door elsewhere in the room will open. Take off your body camera and scan it over the sculpture. No need to go higher than where a person can reach and we’ll see if we detect any unusual wear pattern.’ She did as he directed before re-securing the camera to herself. From inside his state room on board the river cruise ship, the Professor analysed the images on his computer. If the monks had, for centuries, been using this as the key to the chamber, then some part of the sculpture should be disproportionally worn compared to the rest. The results were back in seconds. ‘The date, MDCLXII, is glowing red!’
‘Got it,’ said Lucia.
‘Push down on it, hard.’
Lucia, placing her hand on the MDC, felt the smooth and cool of the marble as she exerted downward pressure. ‘It’s moving,’ she whispered excitedly to the Professor, her joy curtailed by the sound of a door being opened. Ripping her hand away, she ducked behind the sculpture and crouched down, just in time as the library door fully swung open. From her hiding place, she made out the silhouette of two robed monks. They waited for the door to close before speaking but what they said made no sense to her. She wanted to ask the Professor, can you understand them, but knew any noise would give her away.
‘They are speaking in Latin. Well, at least I think they are,’ she heard the Professor say through the earpiece. The room went silent and, although she couldn’t see them, she knew that piercing eyes were scanning the room. There were more words between the men before the door reopened and they both left. Checking her watch, she decided to wait, hidden for one minute before moving. Thirty seconds passed when Lucia was startled by a library door being flung open but nobody entered and it closed more gently than it had opened. Whoever it was seemed satisfied that the room was empty.
Lucia waited the full minute before leaving her hiding place to continue examining the date on the sculpture. With apprehension, she placed her hand on the MDC again and pushed. She was sure that it moved on the last occasion but it wasn’t moving now. She shifted her hand, placing it over the LXII but that too was firm. Her next attempt involved pushing both symbols at the same time; they didn’t budge. Disappointed, she whispered, ‘This isn’t it!’
‘I can see that,’ came the frustrated reply, before adding, ‘Try pushing and prodding everything, while I check things out here.’ Lucia did as the Professor directed but no secret passage revealed itself. The mission had come to an abrupt and dead end. The Professor relayed what had occurred to Olivia and Max, asking for further instructions. Olivia, being in close proximity to other people, couldn’t respond; it would be Max’s call. ‘Stand by’, he said, giving himself time to think before directing Lucia to rejoin Olivia. He told the Professor to contact London and have their cover story pulled. It was time to get out.
‘What do I tell Stephen?’ asked the Professor.
Max didn’t even have to think, saying, ‘Everything is going according to plan.’
Upon receiving the call, MI6 immediately notified the Austrian BMI that the travel plans of a member of the Royal family had been cancelled. Shortly afterwards, the CIA advised them that they had intercepted fresh chatter and the Abbey was no longer a target. Receiving the news, Commander Alexander of the Austrian Police Tactical Unit, who was now only ten minutes away, decided they should proceed as if it was still a level-four incident: A serious and imminent threat. He’d make the decision to downgrade after they had arrived and made their own risk assessment. The Professor restored the phones, the Abbey’s ICT and security systems.
‘Who?’ Max heard Olivia say over the radio in apparent disbelief to a heavily armed Police Officer, who moments before, had demanded that they all put their hands in the air. Rapidly, Commander Alexander and his team determined that the Abbey wasn’t under attack. Despite the monastery being in lock-down, tourists were still patiently queuing outside waiting to enter and, inside, they saw the visitors milling around, with no sign of distress. As a precaution, his team made the tourists put their hands in the air before shepherding them outside. It was one of the Monks who told him that the VIP was secured in the Library. ‘My name, young man, is Lady Olivia Suzanne Elizabeth Huggins, and if I can take my passport out without being shot, I will be happy to show you.’ The Commander nodded. Olivia retrieved from her purse her British passport, holding it for Alexander to see. Satisfied, he told everyone to lower their hands and to make their way outside. ‘She’s not the Queen,’ Max heard some of their fellow cruise members say.
It was another hour before Melk Abbey finally returned to normal, although tours for the rest of the day were cancelled. The Police Tactical unit left and most of their river cruise companions had taken the bus back to the boat. With an offer of help from Lucia, Max agreed to walk back to the ship with Olivia and Inspector Axel. As they wound their way down from the Abbey, Max saw a church spire stand
ing tall above the other buildings of Melk. He was surprised that he hadn’t noticed it on the way up. When they reached Hotel Stadt, from the Piazza in front, he saw the side of the church. Although no one had spoken about it on the walk down, without the Bible, Penny’s life now hung in the balance and Max’s mind was in overdrive. He looked again at the spire reaching for the heavens and knew he needed a moment of solitude before continuing, a chance to be alone with his God, to pray and ask for guidance for the journey ahead. At that moment, he felt the full weight of his eighty-eight years, so he asked Lucia to take him by the arm and lead him to the steps of the church. Unlike the year before, when she mocked his religious beliefs, she understood the ramifications of their dilemma, so she took him without comment and the others followed. As they reached the church door, Lucia asked, ‘Would you like me to go in with you?’ Max shook his head.
The notice board read Stadtpfarrkirche Mariä Himmelfahrt, the Parish Church Melk of the Assumption of St Mary, a Catholic church. Although being a spy, he was also an Anglican Minister. He had always liked some of the more traditional trimmings of the Catholic faith. Therefore, he was at ease seeking comfort within a Catholic church. Seeing that he needed to be alone, the others remained outside. Other than a tourist, obvious from the camera around her neck, he was alone. ‘Not as grand as the Abbey,’ said the lady, walking past towards the exit.
‘No,’ he replied, although he didn’t want to engage in a conversation but when she stopped, out of courtesy, he paused too.
With a gentleness and in a warmth that made him regret not wanting to talk, she asked. ‘Would you know if the church is called the Ascension of Mary, or would it be the Virgin Mary?’
‘Ooh, I’m not sure. I thought it was St Mary but it’s Assumption and not Ascension. The word Assumption means taking up the body and soul of the Virgin Mary. Either the Assumption of St Mary or the Virgin Mary would be correct. Max was overwhelmed with the sense that something she’d said was important. It was enlightening. ‘What did you think the church was called,’ he asked?’
‘Either the Ascension of Mary or the Virgin Mary.’
‘No,’ he said. ‘It’s definitely the Assumption of St Mary, or just the Virgin Mary. He waited for her to leave before going outside himself and joining the others who were waiting. He smiled broadly at them before saying, ‘The two dots after the 1162, in Hans Kammler’s diary, weren’t colons. They were a Trema or Umlaut in German. If you move them over the ä in Maria, it should have been read as Dinner with Mariä Himmelfahrt. Dinner with the Assumption of St Mary. Welcome to the Assumption of St Mary’s church.’ Max turned and pointed towards the building he had just left. The word dinner was a rouse, designed to make us think we were reading a person’s name. The entrance will be inside if we can find the date 1162.’
‘A Miracle,’ Lucia joked. ‘Maybe you should pray more often.’
‘It was the lady who just left actually.’ His companions looked at each other before Olivia said, ‘What lady?’
It wasn’t a big church but, looking for something as small as a date, was like searching for a needle in a haystack. It could have been anywhere: the sanctuary, carved into the pulpit, part of a stain glass window, written on a pew, or anywhere. The younger eyes of Lucia spotted it after Max and Olivia had peered through the locked black wrought iron gates at the side altar. They had missed it. Carved towards the base of the altar and slightly recessed, difficult to see, were the symbols, MDCLXII. ‘Are you there Professor?’ said Olivia into her microphone. ‘We may have found it.’
Armed with the equipment she had taken to the Abbey, Lucia was soon smiling and standing next to the now unlocked gates. ‘Welcome,’ she said, gesturing for them to come inside. Gathered around the altar, they waited for Lucia to push against the numbers. They didn’t need her words; the look of disappointment sweeping her face spoke for her. Like at the library, nothing happened.
‘Try the edges,’ suggested Olivia, ‘as if it were a latch.’
The unlocking “clunk”, was subtle. Had there been other noises in the church, they’d have missed it. Relieved, they all smiled, followed immediately by the shrugging of shoulders. Unlike in the movies, no hidden wall swung open, nor did the floor fall away to reveal a spiral staircase leading to a grand chamber below. Bending down again, Lucia ran her fingers around the edge of the altar, pulling gently against it. Nothing. Moving inwards, she repeated the exercise; a wooden inlay in its front popped open. Without speaking, she took her torch, poking her head inside, straight into a mass of cobwebs. Instinctively, she withdrew to wipe them away and Max had to bite his lip to resist the urge to laugh. Next time, she put her arm in first, clearing the way. From inside, Lucia could see that the hatch opened on to seven steps. ‘It’s more of a ladder, although it doesn’t drop vertically,’ she said, trying to describe what she saw. ‘At the bottom, it looks like a tunnel sloping gradually downwards. I’ll go first, but someone has to remain here to close the hatch behind us and open it again if we can’t find the trigger from inside. Max and Olivia, you stay, because getting in and down those steps is too difficult.’
Lifting his head, looking about the church and crunching up his face up as if in serious contemplation of Lucia’s suggestion, Max paused for a second before saying, ‘Let me think about that. NO!’ Look, I’ve been manhandled into a submarine at sea, hauled out again like a sack of potatoes, and had to crawl out of a Triumph sports car on my hands and knees. We’ll need some help, but if you think we are going to miss this, then you know nothing about us at all.’
‘Well spoken, my good husband,’ chimed in Olivia.
Looking at Lucia, Inspector Axel conceded, ‘There’s no point in arguing with them. I’ll stay behind. ‘Here, take this.’ From his pocket, he produced a small LED flashlight, handing it to Olivia. Then with a chuckle, he said, ‘It won’t be dignified getting you two through that hole. Hands everywhere!’
Olivia, in good humour, touched him on the shoulder saying, ‘The first thing that goes in old age is dignity. This will be a walk in the park, but no sponges!’ Inspector Axel gave her a confused look. ‘It’s a nursing home joke. Here, look after my handbag.’
With some manoeuvring plus an occasional prod, Max and Olivia plopped through the hole, then safely negotiated the steps. Once in the tunnel, they could stand and Lucia led the way. ‘It’s obvious that no one has been here in a very long time,’ said Max, ‘It’s a guess but I don’t think this is the main route in.’ They had been walking for ten minutes when they heard what sounded like running water. Lucia lifted her torch and, shining it as far off into the distance as it would go, could just make out the end of the tunnel. It appeared to open into a large chamber.
When they reached the entrance to the opening, they stopped as Lucia shone her light around. The beam revealed huge pillars, stretching upwards from the water fifty feet to form the majestic foundations for the building above. Other columns formed the base of vaulted arches, lines of which vanished as far as they could see into the distance. It was like an ancient Classical temple and, even in their narrow beam, the sight was breathtaking. ‘It’s like the Derinkuyu underground city in Turkey,’ Olivia observed. Max thought for a second, before answering.
‘Not Derinkuyu. You’re thinking of the Basilica Cistern in Istanbul, a palace-like underground hall.’
‘That’s the one. Same country though.’
‘This way,’ said Lucia, pointing her light at a stone walkway leading over the water and off into the dark. When they finally reached the other end, they were confronted by a solid wall, penetrated by a labyrinth of carved archways, each with its own passageway inside that vanished off into the distance. The scene was repeated to the left and right of them. The path they had been following branched out to run in front of the entrances. Atop of each arch was, according to Max, a Hebrew word, below which was a Latin inscription.
Lucia asked, ‘Can you see this Professor?’
‘I can.’
&nbs
p; ‘It’s a maze,’ Olivia observed, shaking her head. Then after a moment of thinking, she said, ‘It could take days to explore each of the tunnels. I suggest we send the Professor images of the Hebrew text and let his computer run its algorithm, hoping we get a match.’
After additional discussion on how best to solve the conundrum, they agreed to Olivia’s plan. Max and Olivia went to the right, while Lucia, the left. Max shone the torch, while Olivia pointed her body camera at the inscription. On their ninth attempt, they heard the Professor say. ‘We have a match.’ From his computer screen, he read:
עזרא – Ezra
Knowing Lucia would hear the Professor, Max flashed his light in her direction to let her know where they were. ‘Coming,’ he heard through his earpiece. With both torches now illuminating the arch, Olivia filmed the Latin inscription.
et aperi mihi clausa promptuaria et produc mihi inclusos in eis flatus, aut monstra mihi vocis imaginem, et tunc ostendam tibi eum laborem quem rogas
‘Well, Max, you’re a man of the cloth,’ said Lucia, ‘What does it say?’
‘Can I call a friend? Professor?’
‘It’s coming,’ came his voice over their earpieces. A short time later, he said, ‘You are going to love this. 2 Esdras 5:37. Open me the places that are closed and bring me forth the winds that in them are shut up, shew me the image of a voice, and then I will declare to thee the thing that thou labourest to know.’
‘Promising,’ responded Max. ‘Assuming this is right, I wonder how Kammler worked it out?’
‘Sadly, Max, he had hundreds of prisoners at his disposal’ sighed Olivia, ‘I fear some of the paths may have been booby-trapped. He would have kept throwing people into them until someone came back alive, having discovered something, another death sentence for them.’ She looked about and thought. It’s difficult to know what’s happened here over the ages. Are there dark secrets?