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The Shadow Conspiracy

Page 5

by The Shadow Conspiracy (epub)


  ‘Hold up! Where exactly are you going?’ Botha asked.

  ‘I’m going to pay Barbara Holtz a visit once Doggie discovers her location in Gibraltar,’ Harker replied, and received a confirming nod from Doggie. ‘Is the jet available?’

  ‘It’s at Bristol Airport – only thirty minutes from here.’

  ‘Good. Can you let them know I’m on my way? And once I get her contact number I’ll text it to you. I think it would be best if you could get someone to keep an eye on her, just in case. Pull a few strings with the local police, if you have to.’

  ‘Will do,’ Botha replied, before swiping at his phone screen. ‘Consider those strings already pulled.’

  ‘You may as well tell them there’ll be two passengers.’

  He looked over at the dean, who stared back. ‘I’m coming with you,’ he announced.

  ‘No, Tom, you should stay here.’

  Doggie was now looking mutinous. As Harker considered the request, he turned his attention back to Botha. ‘Can you let me know what you manage to get out of Legrundy, please? I need to know what that thing in there is and where it came from.’

  ‘You and me both,’ the Templar replied resolutely. ‘But, as you said yourself, she’s the tight-lipped sort.’

  Both men contemplated each other silently for a few moments, before Botha reached out and tapped Harker on the forearm. ‘Officially, now that we have Avi Legrundy in custody, my protection duties are over, but I’m happy to join you if needed.’

  Harker felt tempted for a second, but Legrundy needed to be interrogated, and there was no one better suited to the job than Xavier Botha. Besides his military training, the Templar had been fully schooled in psychological interrogation techniques by the best in the business – Mossad, the Israeli secret services – and if anyone could get information out of the Mithras assassin, it was him. ‘Thanks, but I want to deal with this myself,’ he decided at last.

  Botha nodded, appearing oddly pleased by this response. ‘Yeah, you’re a Jarl all right, Alex Harker. Godspeed, and if you do need me, just make a call.’

  ‘Thanks, Xavier. I owe you one.’

  Botha smiled and, with the mobile pressed firmly to his ear, he headed back towards the operating theatre, before glancing back over his shoulder. ‘You owe me more than just one,’ he said with a grin, then disappeared inside, leaving Harker and Doggie standing alone out in the corridor.

  ‘So,’ Doggie began with his arms crossed, ‘are you going to tell me what happened tonight or what?’

  ‘I’ll tell you in the car.’

  ‘No, you’ll tell me on the flight – everything about your little jaunt to apprehend that evil hag Avi Legrundy.’

  Harker eyed his friend sternly but his expression quickly softened and he offered him a conciliatory nod. ‘But you must do as you’re told, understand?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Doggie agreed excitedly, showing more enthusiasm than Harker was comfortable with. ‘Besides, given Barbara Holtz’s total disdain for you, I think you’ll find my being present a serious advantage.’

  Even as they headed in the direction of the lift, Harker began to look sceptical. ‘I’m sure she’s already forgotten about all that business.’

  ‘Oh, Alex, when will you learn?’ Doggie said with a condescending tone in his voice. ‘We men are the ones with poor memories. Women never forget a thing.’

  As the lift doors slid open and they stepped inside, the last thing on Harker’s mind was not his own safety but that of Barbara Holtz. If the death of those archaeologists, Wexler and Khan, was anything to go by, then her life could be in real danger. But why was still a mystery to him. Neither did he have any idea yet what that six-fingered humanoid was, and at this point in time he did not want to entertain the wild suppositions which, if he were honest, were running riot through his mind. If not human, then what? No, he would wait for the results of the autopsy before he even considered entering that doorway, and instead focus on the job at hand. Given that Legrundy had gone to such tortuous lengths to get hold of Barbara Holtz’s name and whereabouts, things did not bode well. What did the woman know? And what did it have to do with such a bizarre-looking… ‘human’ with the script of a language last spoken thousands of years ago tattooed inside its skin?

  Like a dam suddenly breaking apart, a torrent of questions flooded into Harker’s mind and he found himself pondering the Mithras cult itself. Where had it disappeared to in the meantime? Vanished was more like it. And given the Templars’ intelligence skills, that was an impressive feat in itself.

  As the lift descended Harker once again thrust such thoughts from his mind and focused only on certainties that offered him a semblance of reassurance. When it came to the Mithras cult and its fanatical followers, there was only one thing he could be absolutely sure of. And that was that whatever was going on, it would not end well.

  Chapter 5

  An icy, unforgiving gust of wind whistled in the man’s ears like the screaming of a banshee as he fought his way up the snow-covered path, whilst struggling to carry the two cardboard boxes clenched tightly, one under each arm. The lull in the storm had spurred him to make the trip for supplies, and given the winds were now gearing up again for another blizzard, he allowed himself a satisfied smile in knowing that he had timed his trip perfectly. The cold mountains inland from the Côte d’Azur were a far cry from the French Riviera, but they did offer a perfect sanctuary for anyone keen not to be found.

  And he did not want to be found.

  The soaring peaks and valleys of the Alps provided protection from prying eyes in a terrain that only the hardiest or most foolish trekker would dare take on. Of course, the town nearby attracted a horde of tourists. But with the thick forest surroundings and being so far off the beaten track, the mountain chalet he approached did not witness many, if any, unexpected visitors.

  Off in the distance the lone howl of a wolf could be heard just above that of the wind, and as the sun began to set, the man hurried up to the wooden steps in front of the building. The wolf population had made a comeback in recent years, but unlike the bloody attacks of centuries past, this modern breed knew well enough to avoid humans. He had noticed occasional paw prints in the snow during the past few months, but it was nothing to be concerned about – his rifle would see to that problem, if necessary.

  He stomped his way up the wooden steps, each creaking under his weight, then turned the brass knob and pushed inside just as the prevailing wind began to step up a gear, its numbing bite only increasing in vigour. Slamming the door behind him with his foot, he expelled a sigh of relief as the warmth from the log fire in the hearth at the centre of the room reached him.

  With the curtains drawn, the room was lit only by the firelight. He first took a moment to set the two boxes onto the pine flooring, then unzipped his thick, grey thermal jacket and hung it on a coat hook before reaching for the light switch.

  ‘Why don’t you leave that off for now?’ An unfamiliar voice with a heavy French accent came from the other side of the room.

  The man jerked backwards in shock against the door frame. Squinting through the gloom, he could see a pair of brown leather Timberland boots emerging from the shadows at the far end of the room.

  ‘Milat?’

  ‘It is good to know you at least remember my name, even though you’ve done everything possible to distance yourself from us through this facile game of hide-and-seek.’

  Milat Berger now stepped out of the shadows into the flickering light of the log fire and offered a dry smile. ‘You could not possibly have believed that you and your band of merry men and women could just up sticks and disappear like a fart in the wind after the mess you’ve caused, could you, John?’

  Father John Davies had regained some of his composure and he took a step towards his visitor, but then came to a stop as Berger raised his open palm.

  ‘That’s close enough,’ Berger ordered, and he shifted closer to the fire. ‘There’s much to discuss before
we kiss and make up, and I would appreciate it if you’d allow me now to do the talking.’

  Berger’s features were now clearly visible, and his shoulder-length black hair glistened due to the excess of gel slicking it back over his skull. He turned his attention to the pair of fire tongs hanging from a hook on the chrome ventilation chute fixed above the fire. His hazel eyes appeared glassy in the firelight and his bushy eyebrows rose slightly as he calmly grasped the handle of the tongs and then dipped the ends into the burning red embers, whereupon he began to stoke the flames.

  ‘Your misguided notion of family has us all perplexed, John. This obsession of yours with your nephew – this Alex Harker – is a curious one. And that you attempted to bring him into our fold was misguided, to say the least.’

  It was clear Davies was desperate to state his case but, even though his lips quivered with a dogged frustration, he remained silent, allowing Berger to continue.

  ‘But to think you would expose our very existence to a Templar after the lengths we have gone to in persuading them of our demise.’ He winced dramatically, as if in despair. ‘This is the part that troubles us most.’

  Berger took a moment to set the tongs against the side of the fireplace, leaving the tips resting within the flames, and then made his way over to Father Davies, stopping within a foot of the man. ‘What on earth were you thinking?’ His raised eyebrow finally signalled the wish for a response, and Davies leapt at this opportunity with fervour.

  ‘Where’s everyone else?’ he asked, referring to the full house he had left here.

  ‘Oh, your little adopted family are safe, but I must admit they were somewhat put out by my arrival… initially. Especially that girl of yours, Stefani Mitchell. She’s quite the fighter.’

  This mention of Stefani had Davies gulping, and his eyes darted around the otherwise empty room for any evidence of his followers.

  ‘As I said, they are fine. I have a few chaperones keeping an eye on them in the back room – so as to give us both time to talk.’

  Davies seemed partially relieved by this answer, but Berger’s cold, unblinking stare demanded answers.

  ‘Let me say first that I’m sorry we took off, but I thought that putting some distance between us was the wisest thing to do, given everything that had already happened.’

  ‘Don’t lie to me, John,’ Berger growled. ‘It is most unbecoming. The truth is that you performed your disappearing act out of fear. Fear of the consequences of failing us by exposing what was not yours to reveal.’

  Berger grimaced, then waved his finger reprovingly at the thought. ‘You’ve always had delusions of grandeur, John – you thought your position within the Mithras was far more elevated than it had any right to be considered. And now all those flimsy supports have come crashing down around you.’

  He clapped his hands together and heaved a deep sigh. ‘Perhaps I myself am at fault for giving you such free rein.’

  There was a flicker of agreement in Davies’s eyes but it was immediately extinguished as Berger leant closer to him with snarling lips. ‘Or perhaps you took advantage of that freedom, and now you fear the cost of your fickleness.’

  Davies’s eyes deadened and he gave a reluctant nod. ‘You’re right as always. I did. But you must believe that my motives in courting my own nephew were just. I thought he would agree and join us. After all, we are family, of the same blood, and such a bond would allow us to destroy the Templars once and for all.’

  ‘Family? We, the Mithras, are your family. And did you really think revealing that archaic practice of the eating of the flesh would convince him? You idiot, we abandoned that inane cannibalistic tradition hundreds of years ago.’

  Davies gaped, genuinely surprised at this man’s knowledge of what had occurred, while Berger glared at him now with real menace in his eyes.

  ‘And so, because of you, the Templars have realised we still exist. And on top of this cesspool of failure, your lapdog, Avi Legrundy has fallen into their hands.’ Berger paused, his fist still raised, and squinted at Davies. ‘And judging by your expression, you had no idea!’

  Davies did indeed look shocked by the disclosure, and he stood speechless as Berger returned to the fireplace and began stoking the fire once again, eyeing the flames intently.

  ‘Does Harker know about the project?’

  His question had Davies shaking his head fervently and he hurried over to the fireplace. ‘I told him nothing about that, I swear,’ he grovelled.

  Berger continued staring into the embers but after a few seconds he began to nod his head. ‘Well, that’s something at least, you damn moron.’

  Davies’s attention now turned to the hot tongs being twisted around in the flames, and the nervous sweat breaking out across his forehead did not escape Berger’s notice.

  ‘Come now, John, have some faith,’ the man said, letting the tongs slip from his hands. ‘We don’t kill each other – even if that’s something you seem to have forgotten yourself.’

  Davies still looked very nervous as Berger placed his arm around the older man’s shoulders and gave them a gentle squeeze. ‘But you have just screwed up magnificently, and for that I want you back with us where we can keep a proper eye on you.’ Berger’s disclosure appeared to calm Davies. ‘Your roaming days are over.’

  ‘And everyone else?’

  The question was asked in such a pathetic way that Berger let out a chuckle. ‘Of course. But their time of running amok ends now, understood? From this moment on, both you and they will be kept on a tight leash, because the road before us has just become rockier, and because the project… its time has come.’

  Davies’s mouth dropped open and he shook his head in disbelief. ‘What? That’s impossible. It can’t be.’

  ‘Apparently it is,’ Berger replied, clearly enjoying Davies’s disbelief. ‘I was given the word just a few short days ago and the galactic wheels have already been set in motion. A new beginning is upon us, and with it everything we know changes in one fell swoop. The good news for you though is that Avi Legrundy was able to pass on to us the information that was needed before she got caught. Not everything, but enough… although time is truly of the essence now, as you can imagine.’

  Berger was smiling like the Cheshire cat. ‘Who would have thought, all those thousands of years ago, that we would be the ones destined to be here at this very moment. The odds against it must be in the billions, yet here we are.’ An unsettling and devious grin now contorted his lips. ‘Time for a change of management, wouldn’t you say?’

  Davies looked shell-shocked by the revelation. Berger gave him another squeeze around the shoulders, then began to lead him into the kitchen and towards the back door of the chalet. ‘How long do you have left on the lease for this place, John?’ he asked, grasping the door handle.

  ‘Another six months,’ Davies replied.

  ‘Good, that leaves more than enough time. Now, let’s go and see your family, shall we?’

  Davies still looked bewildered as Berger pushed open the back door and nudged him through. ‘And here they are.’

  Stefani Mitchell and the others from Davies’s fallen clan stared at him with bulging eyes. Their mouths were wide open but not one of them could move or say a word due to the nylon ligatures securing them to the trees and the fact that their mouths were stuffed with rags.

  ‘There you go, John.’ Berger smiled. ‘Your family reunited again.’

  A rifle butt slammed down hard onto Davies’s head, sending him tumbling down the back steps to collapse in a heap, and the man holding the rifle followed him down with the gun raised. Before Davies could react, he received another painful blow to the head from the rifle butt, and he lay helpless on the fresh snow as a plastic cable tie was slipped over his wrists and tightened.

  The others were now screaming, but the noise was barely audible over the growing roar of heavy wind. Davies was hauled upright by the rifleman and a man appeared around the side of the chalet wearing a red puffer j
acket and holding a Glock handgun aimed at the hapless group of bound prisoners. Davies was then summarily shoved up against the only unoccupied tree and tied to it securely.

  ‘I thought you said you didn’t kill your own,’ Davies yelled over the howling wind.

  For a moment Berger stood there motionless and expressionless except for wincing slightly as the icy evening wind lashed against his face. Then he said, ‘We don’t, but you and your pathetically weak group aren’t part of us. I’m not sure you ever were, John, and you have let us down for the last time.’

  As a dirty brown rag was thrust into the prisoner’s mouth and a piece of duct tape slapped over it, Berger pulled out his phone and snapped a few pictures. ‘Just for the memory,’ he explained as another smile crept across his face. ‘I’m sentimental like that. And as for your nephew, this Alex Harker, I’m sorry to say we’ll have no choice but to kill him.’ He raised one hand and clicked his fingers. ‘And, just like that, the last of your bloodline will be snuffed out. Simply tragic.’

  Berger turned to the rifleman and pointed a finger at him. ‘Cut out their tongues and break all their legs,’ he yelled above the wind. The chalet’s rent is covered for the next six months, so once they’re dead, the local wildlife should dispose of their bodies.’

  Above the whistling wind the howl of a wolf could be heard. Berger raised his finger and pointed it at Davies. ‘I’m not one for long farewells, so goodbye.’

  With that he headed back into the house, calmly dialling a number into his phone. He waited to be connected as the sounds of moaning interspersed with the roaring of the wind could be heard from outside.

  ‘It’s me. It’s done and I am heading back to you now… I know time is short but the lead Legrundy gave us is solid and I have just the man to follow it up… No, not over the phone, but you already know him. He’s doing a piece of business for me even as we speak, but I’ll call him soon… Don’t worry, we’ll get there in time.’

  Berger finished the call and slipped the phone back into his pocket before heading through the chalet to the front door. He opened it halfway and paused momentarily. It’s a shame, he thought, relishing the warm atmosphere of the room. I really would like to know what will kill them first: the cold, or the blood loss, or the wolves. He shook his head and proceeded outside, in the direction of the jeep parked just up a side road. That would have been nice.

 

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