The Shadow Conspiracy

by The Shadow Conspiracy (epub)

  ‘Didn’t they film Where Eagles Dare here?’ Schroder asked, but this was met with a look of disapproval from the fancily dressed servant.

  ‘No, that was Hohenwerfen castle, over in Austria, but it is a common mistake. Neuschwanstein is altogether far more exquisite.’

  As Schroder was led up the steps and then inside, his first impression was not one of bedazzlement and wonder, for the gift shop and cafeteria were simply testament to living in modern times. But, as his guide led him to the upper floors, he quickly changed his thinking.

  Most of the art, he was told, had been inspired by Wagner’s operas, and the Lower Hall was indeed glorious – with its walls showing scenes from the Norse Sigurd saga.

  ‘The floor we’re on now and the fourth floor above us were used specifically by the king himself,’ the servant continued. ‘On the right there are the royal apartments, but tonight our guests are in the most splendid room of the castle.’

  It was clear the fellow knew his history.

  ‘Do such events happen often?’ Schroder asked, whereupon the servant shook his head abruptly.

  ‘I was brought in just for tonight, sir, but I was led to believe this is the first private function the castle has had in years, and I have no doubt you will have a most enjoyable time.’

  The response was telling and as the man gave a small grin Schroder realised that even the guide was a Mithras operative, if only for this one night. The Cult of Mithras had a penchant for anonymity and privacy and it made sense that not even function staff would be anything but trusted colleagues. It was this guarded mindset that had allowed the ancient organisation to survive for so long, hidden in the shadows of world history. No chance was taken, no precaution left unexploited, and as he followed the servant Schroder couldn’t help but admire that fact.

  They passed a final mural set into the marble and proceeded to a central stone archway containing two glass-paned doors, with large rose insignias wrought in metal within each pane.

  The servant pushed open a door leading into a short connecting anteroom, where he placed his hand on the door handle and paused ostentatiously, before announcing. ‘Sir, may I welcome you to the Throne Room.’

  Once the door opened Schroder found himself surrounded by an array of vivid colours. The door opened up into the middle of a huge room, where spread across the floor was laid a series of red carpets so that the white-tiled mosaic underneath could now only be seen at the outer edges. There was a two-tier array of pillars lining both side walls, whilst on the other side was a long veranda. The throne itself was now missing and all that was contained in the concave half sphere built in to the wall was a majestic image of Jesus Christ with his arms raised, protectively looking down at the exact spot where the king would have sat. In the very middle of the room was suspended a many-branched, two-tier chandelier with its candles lit, hanging just feet above the twenty or so assembled guests, all dressed in the finest evening wear.

  To many it might have seemed the height of social distinction, but to Schroder it all reeked of over­extravagance, and he was struggling to disguise his distaste when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

  Milat Berger stood smiling beside him, wearing a smartly tailored dress suit and pearl cufflinks that appeared to glow radiantly in the overhead lighting.

  ‘Glad you made it, John,’ he said. ‘You look pretty good for a man on the run.’

  Since being detected by Brulet, Schroder had been feeling sick to his stomach. It could be because he had betrayed his only real family, or that he knew only too well how good the Templars were at tracking people down. But as he now looked around at the glittering diamond bracelets and necklaces, the opulence of it all had him realising he had made the right choice.

  ‘I’m tired of running, Milat.’

  This comment had Berger looking confused. ‘You’ve only been on the run for just over a day, John. Surely you MI6 boys are made of tougher stuff than that?’

  ‘I mean running from myself,’ Schroder replied, still feeling dazzled by the sight of so much wealth in one room. ‘I’m tired of trying to convince myself that I don’t want all of this.’

  He waved towards the crowd of extravagantly dressed people, and Berger’s smile now grew wider.

  ‘You’re with friends now, John, and you’ve made the right decision. Even though your cover has been blown with the Templars, I’ve no doubt you can still be of great service to the Mithras.’

  It was now Schroder who smiled and after letting out a deep sigh, his shoulders began to loosen. ‘I was worried that it might be a problem for you.’

  ‘Not at all, John,’ Berger replied. ‘I believe you’ll be of great help to us in taking apart the Templars and destroying them for good.’

  Berger gripped his shoulder again softly, and he knew everything was going to be all right.

  ‘Now I’ve a speech to give to my guests, so please excuse me,’ Berger declared and took a couple of steps before turning around and raising a finger to his lips in a gesture of secrecy. ‘And don’t go too far, John. I have a surprise for everyone here that I think you’ll appreciate.’

  Schroder watched as the Mithras leader made his way through the adoring guests and headed up the steps to where the throne would have been. There he picked up a microphone and began to address the crowd.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention.’

  The conversations evaporated in an instant and all eyes now turned to Berger.

  ‘It has been far too long since we all met together in one place, and indeed it is a sight to behold. For many years we have been saddled with the burden of anonymity and veiled ourselves within the shadows – forced there by our Templar oppressors.’

  There came a few sympathetic groans from the crowd, and Schroder watched as Berger started shaking his head.

  ‘My friends, we should not see what they have done to us as something to be reviled or resented, but in truth we should be thanking that pathetic collection of religious fools and zealots, because the hardships they have caused us have only succeeded in making us stronger. And that same project we set ourselves six months ago would not now be so near completion, if not for one of their own, Alex Harker, who by blood – his DNA – is one of ours… Mithras.’

  There was a light patter of applause before Berger continued. ‘Even as I speak, that same Templar stooge is leading one of our agents directly to our goal, and with that we will have the means to address the imbalance of power in this world which has foiled us for so long.’

  Berger looked up through the nearest window towards the evening sky outside, and he shook his head. ‘Who could have envisaged that we would discover proof of what we’ve held central to our beliefs for so many millennia. That the world’s core religions are nothing more than puny constructs to keep the populace sedated. And, over time, that has led us’ – Berger looked genuinely disgusted – ‘to a world of individualism where the weak and useless are considered equal to the rest. The people of the Western world have now forgotten that it is our base, natural instinct that decides the status quo. And essentially that instinct is one of brutality, one of violence, one of suppression and of bending the will of those we consider weaker than ourselves.’

  Curiously, the guests were not getting as worked up as Schroder would have expected. But as he watched, he caught glimpses of the severe expressions on many faces and he realised what the truth of it was. Each person present was a dedicated top-level member of the Mithras – their High Council – and every one of them was already totally invested in the ideology Berger was proclaiming. They had no need to express their agreement to what their elected leader was saying, because it was already a given. They believed wholeheartedly in the total oppression of anyone unworthy. As Berger launched into his next theme, it was obvious how sympathetic to it they were, and Schroder felt his first twinge of anxiety.

  ‘You know, my friends, there are many in the world who view Adolf Hitler as a monster, the devil incarn
ate… but I think the man had the right idea. He understood that human beings are nothing more than animals, possessing the same urges, and that survival of the fittest is the only true, fair path to enlightenment and equality. The weak must die so that the strong survive. It is a concept so simple yet so brilliant, and it is with this in mind that I now come to our own project and my belief that it will grant us the fairer world that we seek. As you all know, when we discovered that pyramid in Gibraltar there were many who failed to recognise its importance. Even I myself was doubtful at first about—’ Berger’s nose wrinkled and his lip curled as if he had just detected some nauseating smell. ‘About an ancient civilisation, pre-dating ours… alien in origin… the Ark of Knowledge… These are the fringe ideas that belonged not in our own minds but those of nerdy teenagers with tin-foil hats. The same kinds of fool whose brain cells are matched only by the number of dispensed tissues in their waste bins.’

  These analogies drew a ripple of laughter from the crowd, even as Berger’s expression now hardened and his tone lowered. ‘Who would have thought that, after six months, those insane ideas could have borne fruit and that such a fantastical tale could actually be true? All those years and money spent on groups like SETI and the construction of gigantic telescopes, all searching for extraterrestrial life out there in the cosmos, when all they had to do was explore the very planet we live on for the evidence they so desperately sought.’

  The group had fallen silent once more and Berger shook his head and let the mic hang limply from his hand, like a bar singer who had drunk too much, before jerking it back towards his lips.

  ‘We all saw the images of that creature that our late friend, Avi Legrundy, had in her possession, and it was enough, in my mind, to justify continuing expenditure on this project, even if she did manage to let it slip away. But what you do not know is that as of this moment, right now, one of the agents who followed our lost soul Alex Harker believes that Harker may have discovered the exact location of the Ark of Knowledge. If this is true, then we can only imagine the secrets contained within it. This discovery could lead to a revolution in world technology – a leap so massive that it would make the creation of the computer look like nothing more advanced than the invention of the wheel. Ladies and gentlemen, this same discovery would rejuvenate the Mithras’s fortunes and, as everyone here knows, money equals power and with it comes the power to control. The kind of control that can enslave people’s minds. We’ve seen how social media has managed to play into the basest of human instincts, that of tribalism. It has turned so many people against each other, so just imagine what the technology that awaits us could do. And the Mithras will be ready to capitalise on just that.’

  Berger then began winding down his speech. ‘Now, to celebrate, I have the surprise that you all requested. So, if everyone would make their way to the courtyard, we can begin.’

  There was a look of excitement on the faces of the attendees as they waited for Berger to take the lead, then hurried to follow him.

  ‘Come and see, John,’ the Mithras leader beckoned, and along with the others Schroder made his way back through the castle and out into the forecourt he had initially arrived in. The limousine had disappeared and in its place at the centre of the courtyard there was a metal pole about six feet high, sticking straight up into the air from a wooden plinth. At its base kindling and straw was now being stuffed into gaps between the thick logs of wood surrounding it, by a couple of servants dressed in red livery, one of whom had escorted Schroder earlier. That on its own was no reason for alarm, but what did make an impression on Schroder was the figure bound to the central stake, wearing only a piece of linen cloth wrapped around his groin and a brown sack over his head.

  As the crowd gathered round, Berger clicked his fingers and two men in burgundy – stretch skinny suits, approached from the courtyard’s main entrance and stood on either side of the stake.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, for your viewing pleasure and to kick off tonight’s celebrations, I give you an act of repentance by someone who has caused us so much trouble lately in revealing our organisation to the Templars.’ Berger stepped up onto a wooden stool next to the stake, then gripped the brown sack and ripped it off to reveal his special guest.

  Father John Davies hung suspended from the pole with a look of dread across his face. His body was shaking visibly in the cold evening air, and a thick gag was tied around his mouth with dark spots where his saliva had soaked through.

  ‘This is the man whose unwise actions drew us back out of the safety of the shadows through his foolish notions of kinship with his Templar nephew, Alex Harker.’

  The Council all began to clap, clearly happy with this surprise, whereupon Berger picked up one of the flaming torches that lined the courtyard and moved over to hand it to Schroder. ‘Would you do the honours, John?’

  Without hesitation Schroder accepted the torch and slowly made his way over to the victim, where he held the flame just inches away from the straw, as Berger came and stood directly in front of the condemned man.

  ‘To truly repent one must burn away one’s sins, “Father” Davies,’ he declared menacingly, then stood back and gave Schroder a nod. ‘Prove to us you are truly Mithras, John Schroder, and thus be welcomed into our family.’

  With no sign of emotion Schroder did as instructed and began to lower the torch, even as Father Davies began screaming, though the sounds were muffled by the gag. ‘Sorry, Father, but we all have to die sometime.’

  The first bullet hit the guard standing on the left, followed by a second into the chest of the one on the right, and both men dropped to the ground like sacks of potatoes. Floodlights now erupted into life from the top of the castle walls, so that all the members of the Council were lit up in a dazzling circle of light. From the main entrance a group of eight men armed with MP5 assault rifles appeared and swiftly surrounded the disorientated group of guests clad in their dinner jackets and ballgowns.

  Berger had frozen in shock, and as both he and Schroder now watched, a man slowly made his way over to them and stopped a few feet short. Meanwhile, the gunmen began to restrain the Council members with cable ties, one by one.

  ‘Good job, John,’ Brulet said with a smile.

  ‘Jesus, Sebastian, you cut it a bit close,’ Schroder exclaimed before throwing the flaming torch off to one side. ‘For a moment I really thought I was going to have to set this guy alight!’

  Brulet smiled again and turned his attention to Berger as Schroder pulled a cable tie from his jacket pocket and wrenched the Mithras leader’s arms behind his back, before tightening it securely around his wrists.

  ‘Milat Berger, it’s been a while since I saw you last. I never expected you to be the one to make it to the top of the Mithras dunghill.’

  Berger was stricken speechless, his complexion turning white in stark contrast to his black tuxedo.

  ‘We started searching for you months ago, the moment we discovered the Mithras was still alive and well,’ Brulet explained flatly, and then he shook his head. ‘I was interested to learn that the Mithras never really recovered from our last altercations with you. In fact, if what we’ve learnt is true, you’re barely even a fraction of the size you once were… Brings to mind the emperor’s new clothes.’

  Berger seemed to be getting over his shock at what had happened and was now looking furious at how much the Grand Master appeared to have found out.

  Brulet continued, with his eyebrows raised, ‘I must say I was surprised that you let John here into your confidence so quickly. Shows you must be more desperate than I thought. Even as we speak, Interpol are picking up your associates all over Europe, which was the easy part given that most of them are criminal psychopaths with a long list of convictions.’

  Brulet leant in closer and his eyes narrowed. ‘Your discovery of the pyramid is fascinating, though, and the possibility of extraterrestrial life is mind-boggling, but I’m afraid we will have to take over from here. If the Ark of Knowledge i
s real, then it belongs in hands far more responsible than yours. And if there is any way to stop these terrible events happening, I pray to God that Harker finds it. I’m surprised you can be out here celebrating, Milat, when there’s such a real chance the world is about to come to an end. I would have thought you’d be hiding away already in some underground bunker.’

  Berger looked stunned and his nose wrinkled in puzzlement. ‘End of the world? What are you talking about?’

  Chapter 24

  ‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ Doggie moaned above the hum of the twin outboard motors as they glided across the choppy black waters of the Bay of Bengal.

  ‘That’s the fourth time you’ve said so,’ Botha remarked, clearly becoming more frustrated with every complaint. ‘If you want to throw up, then do it already!’

  Doggie had been looking green from almost the outset of the hour-long journey, but had not so far managed to accomplish the deed. ‘I wish I could, but I just can’t,’ he replied weakly and sucked in a deep lungful of salty sea air.

  Botha now leant over close to his ear. ‘Just imagine a piece of sloppy light-brown dogshit with crunchy peanuts in it being smeared across a slice of mouldy white bread. Now fold it over in your hands and take a long succulent bite.’

  Doggie flung himself across to the side of the boat and began puking, throwing his shoulders forward violently with each heave.

  ‘Christ, Xavier, that’s disgusting,’ Harker complained, clasping the boat’s steering wheel more tightly as he tried to wipe the vile image from his mind.

  ‘It worked, didn’t it?’ the Templar replied as Doggie returned to his seat, wiping his mouth.

  ‘Don’t forget to take another nice sloppy bite,’ Botha added, and this time it was Harker who felt a rising in his throat, before he pulled back on the throttle and followed Doggie in blowing chunks into the water below. In hindsight he wished he had used the other side because as one of them retched, the other one witnessed it, and the sight set them off again in turn.