The Shadow Conspiracy

by The Shadow Conspiracy (epub)

  ‘The Guardians took his body?’ Harker asked, and Wexler nodded sombrely.

  ‘Do you really think we’d allow him to be dissected for study? He will be buried here, where he belongs, after the rites have been read.’

  The sight was even more tragic because Harker now knew that the five-foot Annunaki was only a child – created in a lab to be the first of a new generation who would oversee the future of civilisation during its darkest hours. If anyone had ever doubted the sheer brutality of the Mithras, then the sight of this curled-up, five-foot child was all the proof needed, and Harker felt disgusted.

  Botha was still looking puzzled, but he stood there respectfully with his hands clasped, as Harker now turned back to the issue at hand.

  ‘We need to get moving,’ he said. ‘I refuse to let any of us be killed by the last member of the Mithras still running free.’ Without any need for discussion, they were already taking their first steps towards the opposite stairwell when a voice suddenly stopped them in their tracks.

  ‘The last… what.’ the voice hissed, and they spun around to see Pelosi standing at the top of the steps behind them. He wasn’t even out of breath.

  Botha couldn’t help himself, grunting, ‘You’re a quiet one, I’ll give you that.’

  Pelosi appeared uninterested in the Templar’s assessment of his stealth skills as he raised the gun and aimed it directly at Botha. ‘Templars!’ he yelled, then spat on the floor. ‘Don’t you people ever have anything nasty to say?’

  Botha looked unbothered, standing there proudly like a man with nothing to lose and refusing to be afraid of the skinny little man in front of him, despite his weapon.

  ‘Speaking of nasty, I saw your handiwork back at the cottage, Pelosi,’ he said with a wince. ‘A blood eagle, indeed! You’re one sick bastard. I mean, Avi Legrundy seemed about as low as it gets on the scale of human garbage, but you… Well, you’re on a different scale altogether.’

  Pelosi looked like he couldn’t care less. ‘I just needed to know what she’d told you Templars regarding the Mithras, and I did feel convinced she was telling the truth after I’d pulled her left lung out of her body.’

  Botha slowly took a step towards the Mithras assassin. ‘Well, that’ll do it. You truly are scum and a psychopath to boot, Herbert. A real piece of shit. What made you hate the world so much? Were you born with a baby dick?’

  Pelosi ignored the obvious goading and was now smiling, obviously enjoying having the drop on the Templar. ‘You should never insult a man with a loaded gun his hand, you know.’

  With both hands behind his back, Botha was now gesturing with a finger in the direction of the staircase, suggesting the others made a dash for it whilst he did his best to distract the killer. ‘Then I guess I’m lucky you’re not a man, then… Especially if I’m right about the baby dick.’

  The shot rang out loudly and then echoes could be heard reverberating around the cavern. Botha raised a hand to his chest and then withdrew it to find his fingers covered in blood. He looked over at Harker and managed to utter the single word, ‘Sorry,’ before he collapsed to the floor.

  ‘No!’ Harker shouted, reaching out to try and catch him. But Botha had already lost consciousness as Harker dropped to the ground and tried to stem the bleeding.

  ‘Christ, Xavier,’ he yelled at his friend. But Botha’s eyelids had closed and his body had gone limp.

  Pelosi now had his gun aimed at Harker. ‘You’ve got bigger concerns than a dead Templar, my friend.’

  Harker stood up next to Wexler, as Pelosi’s face began to contort and twist.

  ‘Now, what did you mean just now by the “last member of the Mithras still free”?’

  Ordinarily Harker would have attempted to stall for more time, but with Botha lying dead on the ground before him, he was in no mood to mince his words.

  ‘Your insane masters, they are all gone, and will soon be spending the rest of their lives locked up God knows where.’

  Pelosi looked unconvinced, then he snarled, ‘Bullshit!’

  ‘Not bullshit, Pelosi. They’re in proper deep shit, right now. The Templars raided that little shindig they were having at Neuschwanstein Castle and Berger and his cronies were stopped in their tracks. I’ve even heard that all your miserable associates were taken in by Interpol, and I’m sure that whatever charges they dig up will ensure a long stay behind bars.’ He now glanced over at Wexler. ‘That bunch of psychopaths must have left enough carnage in their wake to pin a life sentence on each of them. And if they’re foolish enough to mention the Knights Templar, they’re likely to be locked up in a padded cell for being delusional.’

  At the mention of Neuschwanstein, the snarl on Pelosi’s face began to fade, and he now began to look uncertain even as Harker taunted him further.

  ‘Wow, Pelosi, did you choose the wrong side? Here you are, all alone, and let’s be honest, knowing your screwed-up temperament, I doubt you have any friends or loved ones to console you at what must be a really difficult time.’

  Harker knew he was further provoking the killer, but with Botha lying there on the floor, his shirt sodden red, he just couldn’t stop himself. Mentally he was seeing red and he now laughed out loud. ‘You can do what you want to us—’

  ‘Speak for yourself!’ Wexler interjected, as Harker’s eyes blazed with anger.

  ‘—but I’ll die knowing that wherever you go, wherever you hide, whatever shithole you crawl into, the Templars will find you and make your life a total fucking misery. That you can count on.’

  Pelosi stared at him thoughtfully for a moment, but then the snarl returned and he raised the barrel of his pistol to aim directly at Harker’s head. ‘Then I’ll have to make sure I savour this moment for all eternity.’

  Pelosi’s trigger finger began to twitch, then his head jerked back suddenly and he slapped at his neck with his other hand, before gripping something between two fingers which he held up and stared at in confusion.

  Clutched between his fingertips was a small black dart, and even as the killer’s knees began to shake and his gun clattered to the stone floor, Harker felt something sting his own neck. He reached up at this painful annoyance, and also retrieved a small black dart. It was no more than a centimetre in length, and as he stared at it in surprise, his knees began to buckle.

  He could see Pelosi had slumped to the ground twitching, his eyes beginning to flutter. Harker’s legs then gave way and he joined Pelosi on the ground, lying on his side, as stiff as a board. Though his body was paralysed, he could move his eyes, and as his vision began to blur he saw Wexler drop to one knee. Meanwhile, from one of the stairwells, a shadow began to emerge.

  With his mind beginning to numb and his vision distorted, Harker watched as something big – something massive – stepped into the room and made its way over to the marble table, where it paused before picking up the body of the Annunaki child.

  There was the smell of rosemary and lavender in the air and now more shadows began to appear. They were equally as tall and now towered over Harker as his vision swirled into a vortex. He felt his body being lifted high into the air… and then it all went black.

  Chapter 27

  With head throbbing and hands trembling, Harker shuffled slowly across the stone floor, with every footstep seeming to make a sound that rattled his eardrums like a cannon going off nearby. He was perspiring heavily and, as he wiped his face with his shirt cuff, the sensation of sweaty armpits had his stomach churning, and he leant against the metal railing and tried to stop himself throwing up. His balance was shot to pieces and every joint in his body screamed in a cacophony of aches and twinges.

  How long have I been out? He tried to remember, but all that came to him was darkness. He lowered his head down onto the railing and stood there, lurching forwards occasionally and praying for his faculties to return to him with every new breath he sucked in.

  Pull yourself together, Harker.

  With shaky new resolve he dragged his feet up t
he steps slowly and, when he finally reached it, he pressed his face against the thick door and enjoyed its coldness against his face. It felt as refreshing as cool water and he rolled his head around so his brow could enjoy the sensation too, then with a hand raised he thumped his fist against it.

  There were a few moments of silence before he heard the sound of footsteps approaching, whereupon he stepped back and stood up straight as best he could.

  Slowly the door swung open and an angry face greeted him. ‘I thought I told you to stay in the car,’ Doggie fumed. He then looked around to see if anyone else was watching. ‘I said I’d come and get you.’

  In his cream linen suit and white Panama hat, the dean clearly believed he was dressed to impress, although Harker reckoned most people would make a beeline for the other side of the street seeing someone wearing that outfit.

  ‘I thought we agreed on the charcoal grey suit and blue cravat I rented for you?’

  ‘I changed my mind,’ Doggie replied, gently tugging Harker inside the church doorway. ‘Anyway, someone has to bring a bit of genuine style to the event.’

  ‘Christ, Tom, did they loan you a calypso band to go with that outfit?’

  ‘I happen to think it looks rather dashing,’ Doggie declared starchily, then he pulled out a white handkerchief with ‘TL’ embroidered on it and wiped Harker’s brow. ‘You can keep that one now, as I’ve got a whole box of them back at home.’

  David Carter now appeared behind his shoulder, thankfully wearing an appropriate usher’s outfit.

  ‘Damn it, Tom, the best man’s meant to get the groom to the wedding on time… not poison him in the process.’ Carter raised a finger and wagged it at him. ‘Bad Dog.’

  ‘It’s just a hangover. He’ll be fine.’

  Two weeks had passed since Harker had collapsed, after being poisoned – or drugged more like – in the bowels of the Ark, and now everything was just about back to normal. Or as normal as it could be, given that he was about to get married. He’d woken up in the hospital at Port Blair, alongside Doggie, and with no idea how the two of them had got there. There was no record either of who had admitted them, and none of the nurses could provide an answer. But after just a few hours they had been discharged with only the clothes on their backs and, thankfully, their passports.

  Within hours they had caught the earliest flight for the long trip back to the UK. Chloe picked them up at the airport and drove them back to Cambridge, with no idea of what they had been through. So far as she knew, they had been visiting a colleague at the National Archaeology Museum in St-Germain-en-Laye, and that was the way Harker had wanted it. Chloe had enough going on with planning their wedding without knowing how close she had come to losing the groom. Perhaps he would give her the full account after things had settled down.

  Despite Wexler’s instruction, he had ended up telling Doggie everything, and they had spent more than a few evenings at the local pub discussing the whole concept of the Ark and the Guardians who maintained it. The discovery of a human subspecies, the Annunaki, had seemed the hottest topic, however. It was incredible to think that this subspecies had existed, and that their culture and knowledge had helped shape and bring about our own – it was archaeological gold, even if they could never share it with anyone else. Harker had remained tight-lipped about what he might have seen just before he passed out at the top of the pyramid, because he really could not be sure. It might have been the other Guardians coming to help or his drugged mind playing tricks on him, but… no, he couldn’t be sure either way. Perhaps sometime in the future he would risk making a trip back to Sentinel Island in order to take another look. The gold coin he had found in his pocket when he woke up in the hospital – it had to be a standing invitation from Wexler… didn’t it?

  The whole concept of the Annunaki was something Doggie had much to say about, though, and he planned to have the university delve into every possible Sumerian artefact they could find, even suggesting that funding should be made available for future digs. But so far that had not curried much favour. The academic community already possessed an established historical foundation of human civilisation, and they appeared content for the Sumerian tales of the Annunaki to remain in the background. Only time and further discoveries might change that.

  The good news was that the dean had kept his promise to get more involved in everyday life, and during the two weeks they had been back he had bought himself a gym membership, although he’d not attended yet, and tried his hand at scuba diving even if it was only in the deep end of the local swimming baths. He had even signed up to a dating service – but had as yet failed to find someone he liked. The saying about old dogs and new tricks came to mind, but at least he kept pushing himself out of his comfort zone, and that in itself was a triumph of sorts.

  Harker had a meeting with Sebastian Brulet the day after he arrived home, and told him everything. Despite some concerns, the Grand Master had agreed to leave the fate of the Guardians and the Ark as Harker had found them – underground and undisturbed. If Harker was being honest with himself, he was simply relieved that the end of the world was not already upon them… not for another two thousand years at least.

  The Guardians using the Templars to take down the Mithras was, however, a serious sore point. And the fact that some Templars had been killed in the process was a bitter pill to swallow for the Grand Master, for whom the life of every man and woman in the organisation was sacred. But given the entire Mithras hierarchy had been dismantled in the process, he eventually considered it a price he could live with. The wealthy elitists and most of their cohorts were now in prison awaiting trial for a vast array of crimes, the details of which had been supplied by Schroder – anonymously of course – which had paved the way for a full investigation of their activities. Better still, not one of them had mentioned the Knights Templar, so far as anyone knew, and who would have believed them if they had?

  Pelosi, on the other hand, was a different kettle of fish altogether. Whereas Harker and Doggie had woken up in hospital beds, the Mithras assassin had turned up outside an Indian police station with a memory card containing the recording of his murder of Avi Legrundy taped to his chest. How the Guardians had gained a copy of that footage was still a mystery, but the important thing was that the killer was awaiting extradition to the UK – thanks again to a bit of tradecraft from Schroder – and as of that moment he was sitting in a dark prison cell in the city of Mumbai. The Templars would be keeping a very close eye on him indeed.

  Finally, there was Xavier Botha, a great man, a Templar to the core, and without whose help Harker would never have made it through this whole Ark debacle. The man had saved his life on more than one occasion and, despite what happened to him, it could have gone down a hell of a lot worse, and as Doggie and Carter now moved to one side, Harker was finally greeted by somebody who was actually smiling.

  ‘Bloody hell, what are you doing here?’

  Xavier Botha propelled himself forward in the wheelchair as he expelled a deep grunt. ‘You know I wouldn’t have missed this, Alex. Had an ambulance bring me here directly… Sebastian arranged it and I should be out of this bloody chair in a few weeks.’

  ‘Now that’s some good news.’

  Just a day after arriving back in the UK, Harker had received a mysterious phone call insisting he pay a visit to St Bartholomew’s Hospital in London. The caller left only a room number, and when Harker had found Botha there – in an induced coma – but stable, he had been elated. Of course there was no record of how he got there, but unquestionably it had been the Guardians’ doing. A few inches to the left and the bullet would have pierced Botha’s heart instead of his lung, and by the time he turned up at St Bartholomew’s someone had already removed it and sewn him up. Perhaps a parting gift from Wexler? Regardless, everyone was just happy to have him back in one piece, and as Harker stared down at the Templar he was amazed at how quickly the man was recovering.

  ‘What the hell happened to you?’ B
otha asked, gesturing to Harker’s sweaty forehead.

  ‘Doggie arranged the stag do for last night,’ Carter explained, looking a tad weary himself.

  ‘Last night? Why? Everyone knows you should hold it a few weeks before the wedding.’ Botha was now looking alarmed at Harker’s dishevelled appearance.

  ‘Pish-posh,’ Doggie said. ‘The stag night is always the one just before the wedding. It’s tradition.’

  ‘Maybe in the eighteenth century, Tom, but not these days,’ Xavier replied. He then pointed dismissively at Doggie’s linen suit. ‘He might look like the man from Del Monte, Alex, but this time you should have said no!’

  They all burst into laughter except Doggie himself, but before he could raise any objection, a grey Bentley Continental pulled up next to the main path leading to the church.

  ‘Oh God,’ Doggie exclaimed, looking panicked. ‘Whatever happened to the custom of turning up fashionably late?’

  Harker found himself being hastily bundled inside, and Botha spun a 180-degree turn and pushed the door shut. The next thing Harker knew, they were wiping his brow, straightening his cravat, and all of them acting like a bunch of nursemaids.

  ‘Places, gentlemen,’ Doggie urged in a hushed tone, whereupon Botha and Carter headed off down the aisle to their respective places. The dean then made a final adjustment to Harker’s sleeves before giving him a nod. ‘You ready?’

  Harker took a deep breath and composed himself as best he could, given his pounding headache. ‘Not really.’

  A wide, confident smile spread across Doggie’s face. ‘Perfect.’

  Together they made their way down the aisle with the entire congregation watching. Seated in the back row, the brothers Sebastian and Tristan Brulet gave Harker a nod of approval, and he winked back as they continued their slow and measured progress, Doggie dictating the pace.