The Shadow Conspiracy

by The Shadow Conspiracy (epub)

  ‘Brian made it,’ Botha explained, clearly taking some solace in that fact. ‘Someone knocked him out, stole his clothes, and gave him a nasty concussion, but at least he survived. Thank God for small mercies.’

  Brian Holden was a good man, and Harker knew it. He had been on Harker’s protection detail from the beginning and was there when they apprehended Legrundy. His survival was the sole bright light in an otherwise horrible incident.

  ‘The first thing I did was check the hidden surveillance cameras, which the killer clearly hadn’t discovered, and I was able to watch the whole sickening event play out.’ Botha swallowed in distaste. ‘The woman was alive throughout… Anyway, straight afterwards the killer made a phone call and I could hear him asking for—’

  ‘John Schroder,’ Harker supplied with a sigh.

  ‘The one and only. After informing Sebastian, I had a friend of mine run a facial scan on the killer’s image and it came up with a name: Herbert Pelosi.’

  ‘Who?’ Harker had never heard the name before.

  ‘He was originally in the military – special operations – but he received a dishonourable discharge.’

  ‘For what reason?’ Harker questioned.

  ‘Some nasty shit during his final tour of Iraq back in ’04, including civilian killings, rape parties and even a few child murders.’

  ‘Jesus,’ Harker winced, as Doggie and Wexler looked on in disgust. ‘And they only discharged him?’

  ‘Fog of war and all that… Like I said, some nasty shit and a dangerous man. Though you wouldn’t realise it to look at him. Short, thin, little bastard with a pointy nose and small eyes.’ Botha looked just as repelled as everyone else. ‘He then disappeared into the private sector, for mercenary work, and apparently ended up with the Mithras. Not surprising really, since they’re a bunch of savages.’

  The four men went quiet for a moment, as if all engaged in dark thoughts. Noticing the mood, Botha moved onto a more positive topic.

  ‘When Brulet realised the Mithras knew where you were heading, he asked me to come and check in on your pathetic arses. And when I visited Dr Wexler’s house, I was informed by a very attractive lady in red – who was exceedingly drunk, by the way – that you’d taken a trip up the mountain and, voilà, it was there I found you.’

  ‘That was Estelle, my sister. She’s the only person I told where we were going.’

  ‘Sister?’ Botha looked momentarily surprised and then he began to grin. ‘Well, Dr Wexler, you might want to check the family tree and see if you’re adopted, because there’s no way that woman shares your genes.’

  Wexler gave an aggrieved smile even as Harker asked Botha another question. ‘How on earth did you get hold of a helicopter on such short notice?’

  The man’s smile widened and he looked particularly pleased with himself. ‘It’s a trade secret, Alex, but you already know how I like to plan for all eventualities.’

  That much was true, Harker realised. The Templar was probably already on the phone to his contacts before Brulet had even finished assigning him the task. ‘Well, we’re all glad you did,’ he confirmed and the other two nodded sincerely.

  ‘So,’ Botha began, clearly happy to receive this acknowledgement. ‘I would say let’s go home now, but given your story about… what was it, an Ark of Knowledge and… oh yes, the end of the world, then I suppose that’s a bust.’

  ‘You don’t believe it?’ Harker asked, though not in the least surprised.

  ‘Let’s just say that, either way, you can count me in, and not just because you have a habit of getting into the shit, Alex, but because I want Pelosi, and I know he wants you bad.’ Botha put his feet up on the coffee table and placed both hands behind his head, as if he owned the room. ‘Now, why not tell me how I can help you, and why he has such a crush on you, the doctor and the good dean here?’

  ‘You can start by getting your feet off the table,’ Harker replied, knocking Botha’s boots to the floor with a forceful shove. ‘And now you can take a look at this.’

  He pulled out the gold coin and placed it carefully on the table between them. ‘I got it at the dig site in Gibraltar.’

  ‘Underneath Gibraltar would be more accurate,’ Doggie interjected with raised eyebrows.

  ‘Yes, OK, whatever. The point is that we,’ he said, gesturing at Wexler, ‘think this coin was created to allow survivors of a cataclysm eleven and a half thousand years ago to find their way to the Ark of Knowledge. I think that this ancient civilisation used pyramids like the one at Gibraltar as meeting stations where survivors could go to receive directions to the Ark, where they would be given the knowledge needed to begin reseeding a new civilisation.’

  ‘First, that’s a lot of “thinks”, and second, why have people traipse all the way to one place only to find they have to make another journey somewhere else? It doesn’t make sense,’ Botha said, but Harker was already shaking his head.

  ‘Just think about it, Xavier. The world is devastated by flooding, a meteor hits or God knows what, with all the consequences of such destruction, but one group of people with technology and the knowledge to rebuild a new world managed to survive. It would take hundreds of years, if not thousands, for whoever survived to begin life again, and I’m talking of just rebuilding and repopulating communities. And presumably they would have considered it was an act of god or something. It’s easily conceivable that any surviving communities would become highly introverted and keep to themselves for a long time. If the world got wiped out today and only a few people survived, do you think their first mission would be to go out and explore the world? No, of course not. Instead they would focus on building up their populations again and a society. Also, if the archaeological records are correct, then human beings were still only hunter-gatherers before the flood. So they are hardly going to make some massive technological jump straight after an apocalyptic event such as the one described in so many religious documents from around the world. Of course not.’

  Botha still looked dubious, but Harker could tell he appreciated the logic behind the theory, as did Doggie. ‘Now, let’s say, for argument’s sake, you have a small band of survivors who belonged to a pre-flood civilisation which possessed knowledge of agriculture, animal husbandry, seafaring, architecture, and everything else modern civilisation is based upon. I mean, there are Egyptian hieroglyphs depicting what look like giant light bulbs linked to boxes, and there’s the Iraq battery that appears to be thousands of years old.’

  Botha’s eyes were beginning to glaze over, and Harker realised he was sounding a bit out there, so he quickly reined it in. ‘The main point here is that, supposing this surviving group had such knowledge, on a devastated Earth with only pockets of human survivors spread all across the world – how would you go about attempting to start over?’

  Given this was largely Wexler’s theory, the man himself was staying remarkably quiet, but that did not deter Harker.

  ‘You would have to wait for maybe hundreds or even a few thousand years to elapse before you even attempted to bring that knowledge back into the world. And how would you do it? Well, there’s only two ways. One, you go out with all the knowledge you’ll need, searching for survivors who have, over time, developed into communities. Or – and this is the most sensible way – you somehow entice them to come to you.’

  Judging by their engaged expressions Doggie and Botha were beginning to open up to at least the possibility of his theory, and Harker pushed ahead quickly for fear of losing momentum.

  ‘Now, the last thing you would want is to leave signposts pointing to your exact location, because who wants thousands of hunter-gatherers turning up suddenly on the doorstep, armed with spears and arrows and wanting to take what you have? That would be bloody suicide. So what would you do? You would build meeting places, perhaps pyramids if that was what you already knew, and have some of your own people wait there to see who turned up. If the new arrivals prove aggressive, violent, untrustworthy, then you send them p
acking. But if they seem reasonable, peaceful and trusting, then you give them the necessary directions.’

  Harker now pointed to the gold coin lying on the table. ‘Directions to show where they could gain the knowledge to rebuild a modern civilisation anew. And a shining pyramid standing alone in a wasteland is definitely going to catch the eye of anyone who sees it. Plus look at the location of Gibraltar. We know that hunter-gatherers used boats, and Gibraltar is the only way into the Mediterranean. If you were sailing through that narrow strait, how could you not spot it, and in turn want to take a closer look?’

  Harker’s theory was now gaining support from Doggie, who was nodding his head at intervals. However, Botha still seemed hesitant.

  ‘OK, Alex, there’s a lot of good points in there, and some of what you’re saying actually makes sense, but’ – Botha began to grin childishly – ‘you think these knowledgeable types from a past civilisation, who wanted to help rebuild the world after an apocalypse, were aliens?’

  Harker had been expecting this question since he began and he held both hands up in surrender. ‘OK, now I think we can all agree that the whole “alien” concept is making us feel uncomfortable’ – he looked over at Wexler, who was shaking his head – ‘apart from Michael, of course.’ He turned back to the other two. ‘I agree, I get it, so why don’t we call this group an advanced human civilisation?’

  This proposal received supportive nods from both Doggie and Botha, but Wexler pushed a finger in the air as if a light bulb had gone on inside his head, and his eyes widened enthusiastically, raising his eyebrows even higher. ‘Or an advanced being civilisation?’

  ‘No, Michael, we’re not going to call it that,’ Harker stated bluntly, and without giving the man time to respond, returned his attention to the gold coin.

  ‘If an advanced human civilisation did actually exist, and in part survived a galactic catastrophe then the directions inscribed on this gold coin could reveal the location of this Ark of Knowledge. And seeing how seriously the Mithras are obviously taking it, then we would be fools not to act accordingly.’

  Botha and Doggie seemed unopposed to his idea, so to tip the scales in favour of his argument, he decided to place a cherry on top of it – even if it was a rotten one. ‘And anyway, if the world really is going to end in the next week or so, then I say why not give it a shot?’

  ‘Not exactly an encouraging pep talk, Alex,’ Botha remarked, but Harker could already tell that the Templar was on board. Doggie, however, seemed rather more cautious about the prospect.

  ‘I don’t know, Alex,’ said the dean. ‘If the world really is coming to an end, then I can think of a few other things I would rather be doing than going off on this wild goose chase of yours.’

  This reaction was not that surprising to Harker. Over the past twenty-four hours they had been shot at, survived a gun-toting car chase, been shot at again, then rescued by helicopter, and the dean had even wet himself. Hardly an overwhelming temptation for anyone now asked to get back into the ring again.

  ‘If I’m wrong, then just think how good it will feel for you to tell me over and over again how foolish I’ve been,’ Harker suggested. ‘For a week at least, anyway.’

  Doggie let out a sigh and turned to Botha, who was already nodding his head. ‘OK, Alex Harker… what’s your plan?’

  Harker returned his attention to the gold coin. He pointed to the side facing upwards and ran a finger around its central depiction of the Eye of Horus. ‘This side is intended to show who the knowledge and the coin belong to – like the Queen on our own currency. It’s an obvious way of letting whoever holds it know where it comes from.’ He flipped it over. ‘And this side contains an emblem and inscription describing the Ark of Knowledge – which is the same as that tattoo we found inked on the humanoid.’

  ‘Advanced being,’ Wexler corrected, and Harker waved his hand dismissively in the doctor’s direction.

  ‘Whatever. But what’s been bugging me are these.’ He now ran a finger around the coin’s rim and indicated the smaller markings appearing at intervals along its circumference. ‘Now my knowledge of cuneiform script is pretty basic, I’ll admit, but I recognise these markings. They’re numbers.’

  Wexler leant over to scrutinise the edges. ‘I missed that,’ he confessed almost apologetically, as Harker began counting them.

  There were fourteen in all and he pulled out his smartphone and began to jot them down on his notepad app before handing it over to Wexler. ‘Is that correct?’ he asked as the doctor began to check them against the engravings on the coin itself.

  ‘Almost, but these two numbers are wrong,” Wexler stated and plucking the smartphone from Harker’s fingers and tapping in the corrections. “Now it’s correct.”

  ‘So, what are they?’ Doggie asked as everyone now focused in on the doctor.

  Wexler sat back and mulled over the numbers, and after a few minutes of muttering and numerous glances between the three other men, he finally began to shake his head. ‘I’m not really sure. They could be a system of dating or even an identification number for each individual coin.’

  ‘That’s impossible,’ Harker replied, and he took back the smartphone and began to stare at the screen. ‘Fourteen numbers? That’s in the billions and there’d be no need for so many. And a fourteen-numbered date? I can’t see that working

  Wexler thought about it for a moment longer before he placed the coin back on the table, looking defeated. ‘I could spend years studying this and still get no closer to the meaning, I’m afraid.’ Harker could feel his heart sink as Wexler now got to his feet. ‘If you would like me to take this coin and continue analysing it, I would be happy to do so.’

  ‘Thank you for the offer, Michael, which is much appreciated, but I’m not quite ready to give up on figuring it out just yet.’

  Wexler did not look disappointed by this rejection, but leant closer and placed his hand on Harker’s shoulder. ‘You should spend the coming week with your family, Alex, rather than poring over this fascinating but, in the end, useless coin. And now, forgive me, gentlemen, but I would like to get back to join my own family for the short time we have left.’

  Harker couldn’t blame him. In fact, eyeing his friends’ faces, he wondered if they would rather be with their loved ones too. ‘Of course, Michael. Where will you go?’

  ‘Well, I would normally go home, but since there’s a hit squad after me, I think I’ll take a taxi to that fallout shelter poor Nicholas mentioned. I called my sister during the helicopter flight, so they should all be there already, safe and sound.’

  ‘Very well, Michael.’ Harker shook the doctor’s hand. ‘Good luck.’

  There was a heavy sadness in the air as Wexler shook Botha’s and Doggie’s hands too, thanking them for their help. It was a horrible, isolating feeling to know that in such a short time the entire globe might be shaken to its core, only to herald another eleven thousand years of galactic amnesia.

  Harker now turned his own mind to Chloe and the wedding that would never be, as Wexler made his way to the door and offered a final wave.

  ‘Who knows, my friends, maybe we’ll see each other again, on the other side.’

  With that, he was gone, and Harker was left wondering if the man had meant in the hereafter, or after surviving the apocalypse to come. Either way it was wholly depressing.

  ‘Well, I have to say, boys, that all in all this has been a remarkably shitty day.’ Botha groaned and placed his feet back up on the table. ‘I don’t know if this whole apocalypse business is real, but if it is, then all I can say is… damn.’

  At the coffee table, Harker began to idly rotate the gold coin between his fingers. So close and yet so far, he thought as Doggie headed for the minibar and a whisky miniature with his name on it, while Botha picked up his mobile and began dialling a number.

  ‘I’m going to call the jet and speak to the pilot,’ he said, putting the phone to his ear. ‘I’ll give him our coordinates and see if he c
an find a private airstrip here on our side, so we can avoid having to go back through Zermatt.’

  A single word hit Harker like a brick to the head and he looked up at the Templar with wide eyes. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘I said I’m going to call the pilot, see where he can pick us up from.’

  ‘No, after that.’

  ‘What… give him our coordinates?’

  Harker’s eyes now gleamed with excitement, and Botha cottoned on to what he was thinking immediately.

  ‘Give me a break. That’s too simple.’

  Harker ignored him and pulled out his phone, brought up Google Earth and began to type in the numbers from the coin. ‘They’re coordinates,’ he said triumphantly as Doggie came to join him at the table with an open miniature bottle.

  ‘They can’t be, Alex. The first systems of longitude and latitude weren’t invented until the second century BC,’ Doggie insisted. ‘I may not know my astronomy, but my history is pretty tight.’

  ‘I’m not suggesting it was not our invention, Doggie,’ Harker said, gesturing to the gold coin he had placed back on the table, ‘but what if it was theirs too?’

  ‘Codswallop, Alex,’ Doggie replied, taking a swig from the bottle.

  Harker watched as the digital representation of Earth began to rotate and then, as it zoomed in on an empty part of the Andaman Sea, his heart once more began to sink. But after thinking about it for a moment he realised his miscalculation.

  ‘Longitude is measured from north to south, right? With the zero line passing right through Greenwich.’

  ‘Ah, the days of empire,’ Doggie joked, polishing off the little bottle in a second swig.

  ‘Yes, but what if I use Gibraltar as the zero line?’ Harker continued as he began to prod at the screen.

  His mouth dropped open. ‘Port Blair in the Andaman and Nicobar Islands.’

  ‘Is that supposed to mean something?’ Doggie said, scratching the back of his neck.

  Botha now looked riveted. ‘The Bay of Bengal,’ he said sharply and Harker was already nodding in agreement. ‘Didn’t Schroder say they found the boat with the humanoid floating adrift in the Bay of Bengal?’