The Theatre of the Apocalypse - Part 3

by UD Sandberg

  Ludwig didn´t have the energy to argue. He was silent for a moment and then said.

  ”August, it's still not too late. You do realize that we will never have time or the ability to go through with this. There is no point that you continue to hold me hostage, or even try for yourself.”

  ”Ludwig, I'm not in the mood.”

  ”We risk more and more the longer we try. Sooner or later they will catch up with us when we are in these kinds of public places.”

  August pierced Ludwig with crazy eyes. Ludwig continued anyway.

  ”Let it be, August. Continue on for yourself if you´d like to but I´m going now.”

  Ludwig pushed out his chair and stood up. August slammed his hand down on the table so that his water glass fell over the antipasto platter. The water spilled all over the table. August raised his voice.

  ”Now you will sit, and you will do it now.”

  Ludwig stood terrified.

  If only he had known what I know, he might have become calmer or perhaps he would have found more peace, in any case it pained me to see him like that. If only I could have whispered in his ear: hold out.

  August was unforgiving and hard. He said.

  ”The time is two minutes to eight. If I don´t call my lawyer in New York exactly eight o'clock, he gives you to the police.”

  The barista and the business woman looked surprised in their direction. The man who sat the closest with the olive oil bread told August to calm down. August sounded an apology and pointed with his hand on the chair in front of Ludwig. Ludwig didn´t hesitate and sat down again.

  They sat in silence for a long time. Ludwig watched the game and listened to the singing heels9. He did not know what he thought the most ill of, the prison in jail or the prison out in the open.

  Inter´s heel drowned Siena. He thought it sounded like they were singing about Zlatan. When he blinked images arose from a football match between AIK and Hammarby over him. The images were stuck on the inside of his eyelids. Ella and Ludde on the North section of the stadium Råsunda outside Stockholm.

  Ella was talking to a guy who was ape drunk. She was friendly, in her special way she asked him to calm down. Many had complained when he pissed threw beer mugs over the people below him.

  Ludwig had, as usual, not understood how she did it. It was that preposition there in the middle, a small verb that made it so that they didn´t flare up. He heard them beside him, almost as if they were standing next to him.

  ”One thing I haven´t gotten”, said Ella to the guy. ”I've had some theories about it. Right, Ludde? ”He smiled, did not want to get into the conversation. Would certainly be trouble then. ”Why must you always fight. Okay, I get the thing. You carry around a lot of passion. You love your team and all that.”

  The guy, drunk as a pig, said.

  ”Okay lady, here it is, how should I say. Okay, so here huh, it's one thing I'll never let down, it's AIK. The old lady, my children, the whole shit, huh, buddies. Does not fucking matter, Gnaget10 is always there.”

  He turned and shot down the collar of his jacket. In the neck, he had a tattoo. It was a rat with the text ”Everlastingly Faithful”.

  ”But I do not want to fight. It is them goddammit, damn disgusting gårdare and bajare11. Fucking Pack. They press on, scoff as well. One cannot stand there like a fucking dick and not step. Everyone understands that.”

  ”But they say the same thing about you.”

  ”Oh yes, but honestly. I hate violence, ask anyone here, I hate violence so damn much so that ... ”

  Ella turned on with a twinkle in her eye. ”... You have the urge to hit someone.”

  He raised his plastic glass and toasted and then went away. Ella patted Ludwig on the back. Kissed him on the neck.

  ”What a guy huh? Hey, I have a theory, this thing about football and religion, there is always - ”

  Ludwig broke contact. He drank from his water glass and concentrated on the game. August took out his cell phone from his pocket. He had received a text message a few hours ago.

  Damn you! /L

  August shuddered. Loretta knew. It could not be anyone else who sent such a message. He returned a message to her internet address. He was careful not to send to her cell phone.

  ?

  The match ended. The barista flicked over to CNN. After the commercial break Hala Gorani came in the picture, in front of her flashed graphics that read BREAKING NEWS.

  Good morning, I´m Hala Gorani.

  The mysterious robbery at the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna has just gotten more mysterious. The Viennese police main suspect, and I should say only suspect, Karl Feigl was found at the Sankt Josef Krankenhaus morgue last night. And the surprising news was that the clergyman had been dead for several weeks.

  38

  Rome

  Year 1599

  The General Inquisitor Bellarmine was puzzled as he sat at his writing desk. In his hand he had a letter. At the top of the paper a seal was printed by Thoth´s Brotherhood. The letter was an order of the Nolan´s books to a bookseller in Ortaccio named Girolamo. He wondered how he could use this in the interrogation of prisoners.

  He shuddered as he thought of the Nolan. His black eyes. They crawled under the skin of him.

  He glanced at the pile of linen paper that lay on the writing desk. They contained statements from the interrogation of the courier who was supposed to deliver the letter, the one that they grabbed at Piazza Navona, when he had escaped from Piazza San Luigi dei Francesi.

  Bellarmine had been searching for the man who turned their attention to the courier for Thoth´s Brotherhood but he had never found Michele because he had fled from the scene as fast as he could.

   

  The courier had after all been a great help. Bellarmine had called in his most capable inquisitor who used Bernardo Gui´s all techniques. After a little persuasion the courier told them that he acted on behalf Thoth´s Brotherhood. He said he would hand over the letter to another courier who would then take it to the receiver. A courier who they could not find.

  The inquisitor was convinced that he had told all he knew, which was not much, but it was more than they had before. The courier had information about the secret pilgrimage path to the Theatre.

  He mentioned nothing conclusive, only parts of conversations he had heard over the years. He told about places that were important to the path, details that were clues to solving the mystery.

  Bellarmine formulated a few short sentences for what he intended to do in a book that was separate from his notebook where he had all his beautiful images of Thoth Fraternitatis and one of the largest collections of the pagan art which originated from the old country. Pictures that I know Ludwig just days after he had seen them the first time, just as I, began to admire, even if there were other things desired from the man.

  Bellarmine would establish a covenant with the name The Brothers of the Path. It would consist of no more than four people. In this way, it would avoid the Curia. He did not want their involvement in this secret deal. These four would picket at the sites mentioned by the courier.

  He wrote the title Manuscript Montepulciano on the front in honor of his birthplace. He thought that the title was only natural because the place of his birth was the starting point of the end of the plague Thoth´s Brotherhood.

  The first brother, he would send to interrogate bookseller Girolamo. If he had not divulged anything of importance, which Bellarmine believed he wouldn´t, the brother would make an example of him to show Thoth´s Brotherhood who was the executioner and who was the servant of Christianity in the eternal city.

  From then on the brother would continue to the Cathedral in Siena to find what the courier told was buried in the vast cathedral, hidden but visible for every visitor. Hidden in the cathedral floor mosaic. The key to the riddle was a gift, a language, a law. From Thoth to Moses, actually not unlike Bellarmine´s painting of Mount Sinai.

  39

  Kunsthistorisches Museum
, Vienna

  June 16

  Alexander Wagner was pissed when he came back after the press conference, cheated and humiliated. But it was still pretty far from how pissed he would be soon. One thing was true of Alexander Wagner, he was not fun to deal with when he was really pissed off: then anything could happen, which it did.

  Most acid was Alexander of having to put effort into answering stupid questions that only hampered his investigation.

  The situation did not improve when he phoned to Lisa and said he would take a bratwurst at the Ringstrasse instead of dinner at home. But he promised to come home later so she could go off to Felix.

  Alexander and Max walked together through the security videos again. They had no idea what to look for. Inconsistent movements. Sudden outcomes. Deviations. Anything, anything at all.

  Alexander sat down in front of the bulletin board with the pictures and the names of all guests from the Tate Britain soiree. They went through all the faces again. Controlled the names.

  It was around one hundred guests and it took time.

  When he reached the end yet again, he jumped back a few rows. He saw the name Iacobi. He looked at the picture and wondered why it sounded familiar. He asked Max.

  ”Why do I recognize Iacobi, this man? I don´t recognize his face more than the picture but the name: Iacobi. Have you any idea?”

  ”Wasn´t some woman named Victoria Iacobi who was shot in Gablitz a few months ago?”

  ”Exactly.”

  Wagner remembered that he had been engaged in the murder investigation but not managed it because of Felix. It was when he requested reassignment to the desk hell.

  ”I wonder if they were related.”

  Max shrugged.

  Alexander felt that it was not what he was thinking. He went through all the events. He divided the study in chapter: theft. Krugerstrasse. The fingerprint. All guests who he talked to. The visitation. The photograph shooting. The talks with the press. With the autopsy technician.

  After a few minutes the token fell down.

  He read the name on the board again. August Iacobi. He rang the police switchboard and asked them for the number to St Joseph Krankenhaus and Mr. Richard Steiner.

  He answered after four rings.

  ”Steiner.”

  ”Hello, this is Gruppeninspektor Alexander Wagner again. I wonder if I could ask you one thing.”

  ”Of course.”

  ”Can you bring up the papers for Karl Feigl and double check one thing?”

  Wagner heard Steiner´s footsteps on the other side of the handset.

  ”Of course. I have them in front of me.”

  ”You said that a certain Mr. Iacobi was to confirm Karl Feigl´s identity.”

  ”That's right.”

  ”Can you see if it is by any chance a certain Mr. August Iacobi?”

  ”Mm. Yes, here it is. His first name is August. Right. Why do you ask?”

  Alexander did not answer the question but thanked him and hung up.

  He went to the bulletin board and ripped off the photograph of Iacobi. He turned to his technician.

  ”We have a new suspect. August Iacobi. It´s this motherfucker.”

  Alexander almost pressed up the image in the face of Max and said.

  ”Map out his every step!”

  Half an hour later they had some material that Max had compiled. They went through the theft a few times. Max showed the sequence when August happened to look up in the CCTV camera.

  ”Ok, please tell me that we have a CCDP image of that feed?”

  ”Actually, I haven´t checked.”

  CCDP cameras acted on movement and took high-resolution images that could be enlarged considerably more compared to CCTV. Max went through the folders the security officer had given access to. After a few minutes he had the answer.

  ”We have.”

  Max lifted the image into Photoshop. Adjusted colors. Increased contrast. Enlarged 20x.

  Loretta came into the room. She saw the picture and dropped her chin. It was no problem to see the similarity between the image that sat on the bulletin board and the image from the video from Saal XIII.

  Alexander gathered his group. Said sharply to Loretta, Julian, To-bias and Max.

  ”We have a new prime suspect. His name is August Iacobi and he was at the event on June 14. The one that leaks this, I will beat your head off. Got it? This time we leave the press out of it.”

  Max went through more movies while Alexander phoned Nora Smith at Europol to inform her of the situation. Weber ran the photo through the passport databases to obtain his exact identity. Found no picture in the U.S. or Austria. In Sweden, the picture matched an old passport.

  He got information about some residences in Sweden and the castle Ruotkerspurch and that he indeed had a late wife named Victoria Iacobi. Max searched on.

  It was not difficult to find information about August, he even had his own article in Wikipedia.

  Alexander hung up. Read the information that Max had compiled.

  ”But that´s insane. It´s that August Iacobi.”

  ”Who do you mean, boss?” asked one of the stars.

  Alexander showed the photograph to the group.

  ”Our main suspect is August Iacobi. You may recognize the name.”

  One of the stars nodded sycophantic. The other looked like a birdhouse. Wagner continued.

  ”August F. Iacobi is a well-known businessman and his involvement in this is quite unlikely but it is what it is.”

  Wagner cleared his throat and read some of Max´s information. He then continued.

  ”Iacobi belongs to a Swedish branch of the old powerhouse family Habsburg and a very successful one. He owns steel industries, IT companies and the highly influential investment bank Iacobi Investment Group which investing in over 100 companies worldwide. He lives in a castle named Ruotkerspurch in Riegersburg.”

  Alexander looked at the group. They were as surprised as he was. He continued.

  ”Iacobi has one of the largest fortunes in Europe, making him a most unthinkable perpetrator. But we cannot deny the evidence. Remember, rich people commit crimes too. But that makes it no less remarkable for that. Although the Sapphire Box of Edfu is one of the world's most expensive art objects Iacobi could easily buy it several times over, if he had the possibility.”

  Alexander let the stars take a break. He sat down next to Max.

  ”It´s kind of strange, don´t you think, Max?”

  ”What do you mean?”

  ”His wife was murdered earlier this year and a few months later, he steals one of the most famous works of art in the world. Sure, he certainly has a ton of skeletons in the closet concerning his business, but this is something else entirely. We must think damn wide here. It cannot be to sell it. Does it have anything to do with her murder? There's no question of artnapping anyway.”

  ”Artnapping?”12

  ”Same thing as kidnapping but with art. Offenders steal a painting and ask for a ransom.”

  ”Okay.”

  Max shrugged and went on a facetious guess.

  ”Maybe he's a little Thomas Crown?”

  Wagner shook his head. Pondered. He did not understand.

  ”It seems in any case quite unlikely that his wife is murdered and then comes one of the world's richest people and try to steal the Sapphire Box of Edfu, don´t you think, Max? They need to be connected somehow!”

  Wagner sat and brooded while Max went out to the entrance. He came back slightly breathless. Put several movie windows in a row in an application. Played the videos back and forth in the various recordings.

  After a while, Max said.

  ”Now we know at least how the Sapphire Box came out of the museum.”

  ”How so?”

  ”Check this out.”

  Max rolled a sequence compiled by several cameras at the entrance. The sequence followed August who circled around all the people and finally came to the souvenir counter.

  It
went pretty fast and it was a bit inconvenient it might seem in retrospect, even if no one caught him, when I saw it for the first time, I thought it was also strange that no one caught him.

  Once there, he picked up a package from his shoulder bag and stuffed into a box.

  ”What's that box?” asked Alexander.

  ”That is a mailbox where tourists can lay their cards. The janitor probably emptied it just as usual the day after the theft.”

  ”Perhaps it´s still there!”

  Wagner was on his way to the door.

  ”No, I was out and just checked. It's empty.”

  Alexander clenched his fist. He called Julian.

  ”Check out his credit cards and his cell phone if he has any.”

  Wagner cleaned the bulletin board. August sat on its own little space. Julian came back quickly with the information.

  ”Good news. He took out the maximum amount of a cash machine at Südbahnhof yesterday and probably bought train tickets from there.”

  ”How is that good news, Julian?” said Alexander.

  ”You did not let me finish. I just talked to his phone company, too. His cell phone was used a few moments ago in Siena.”

  ”Good work, Julian!” Exclaimed Alexander.

  Alexander picked up the phone and called Nora Smith in Haag.

  He asked her to coordinate with the Italian police.

  *

  Ludwig read the message from Corpus Thoth Fraternitatis while August paid admission to the Siena Cathedral.

  Head to Sena Julia where the Path of the Five Trials begins inside the gate of the Barbarian's house. Listen to the conversation between the law-giver and the receiver. Then insert the most common symbols in the Four-Leaf Clover. Let this be your Egyptian Virgil.

  They went through the turnstile and went into the church and stopped in the middle. Ludwig raised his nose from the paper.

  A feeling of overwhelming came over him. Huge pillars painted in bands of black and white flanked the sides. A stream of light flowed from a round window above the choir. A murmur was heard from the Italian school groups that stood in clusters along the columns.