The Larmenius Inheritance

by John Paul Davis

  ‘Soon there will come a time when the world reawakens and basks in their glory.

  ‘For in the Beginning was the Word. And the Word was God.’

  63

  Somewhere in Switzerland

  The helicopter came down undetected in a small clearing in the middle of the forest. Robert was the first to disembark, followed by nine other soldier-monks of the Knights of Arcadia. Every man was dressed in black, and each was heavily armed and drilled. To an outsider, the scene that was taking place was geographically and historically inaccurate; to an insider, the truth was more straightforward. In China, the Shaolin Monks might be famous for their practising of marshal arts but seldom have they been seen coming down carrying machine guns.

  On this night, the occasion was one that they secretly practised for every day.

  Matt came next. Then came Scott, dressed in combats and his head covered in a balaclava.

  Matt paused for breath. Despite it being midsummer, the night air was still and cool. It was approaching 2am. Starlight shone from the cosmos, interrupted by the faintest wisp of cloud. There was no moon, but in many ways that was a blessing. Intrusion was a matter of precision, and tonight there was no room for any mistakes.

  The location was a mystery to all but one. Even the abbot was completely in the dark. He had heard rumours that the secret headquarters was located near the St. Gotthard Pass, but he had never seen it. His goal on joining the order was to succeed where all others had failed.

  But for now he felt destined to fail.

  Matt stood quietly, watching the surroundings. In the distance, the lake was still, its waves moved with increasing regularity as the wind died down. Across the water, he could just make out the silhouette of distant mountains. Scattered across the horizon, isolated towns, villages and dwellings twinkled with light, no greater in some cases than the stars above.

  Scott put his hand on Matt’s shoulder, the familiar operational adrenalin rush from his time as a navy NCO filling his very being. ‘I always wanted to know what it was like being in the army.’

  Robert viewed them all with a serious face. ‘Remember what I told you.’

  ‘I know how to follow orders, dipshit,’ Scott said.

  The monk grabbed him at the neck. ‘I’m serious.’

  Matt’s eyes lit up. He watched his brother and placed his hand on him. ‘We’ll be fine.’

  Robert watched him, then Scott. He forced an acknowledging smile and let him go. He turned, looking across the horizon. The scenery was bleak, but that was not the only problem. They were working on supposition and guesswork.

  Matt turned, looking at the helicopter. Only two men were still there.

  Robert, meanwhile, turned to face the others. The location they were looking for was an ancient castle, somewhere in the forest. Von Gostel gave the plan of the area in the book and now thanks to Mills, they had a place to start.

  Robert faced the editor. ‘Now then, Mr. Mills, would you like to lead the way from here.’

  The editor walked slowly, afraid of losing his footing. The ground beneath his feet was both rough and unstable. Even if the moon had been out, following the path would have been extremely difficult, but in the darkness of this night, it was virtually impossible; the use of a flashlight was a risk they dared not take. The monk had been most insistent on that. Privately, Mills thought the chances were they would encounter nothing even if they discovered the location. He knew from experience it was usually unmanned.

  The castle was three-quarters of a mile from where they landed. Dense greenery hid it on every side, and the slope of the ground made it obvious it was built into the mountainside. As best Robert could guess, the castle was only visible from one location, and that was the lake. The original constructors had clearly taken that into account when they selected the site.

  Matt was awestruck. As a student of history, he was amazed that a location of that type existed in Switzerland. Even in the darkness, the heavily fortified structure was inspiring.

  The area was clear and appeared to be deserted. No lights or any sign of life could be seen from the upper areas. The castle seemed lost in time.

  Scott looked on with concern. ‘How the hell do we get in?’

  Robert turned and faced him. ‘The only way possible. Through the door.’

  Nicole looked back, stunned. The information she was hearing, though she heard correctly, simply failed to register.

  She felt her knees go weak and was grateful she was unable to stand. Somehow his eyes seemed to become darker every time she blinked: it was as if they were not eyes at all, but coals, swirling on a sea of oil. There was a sense of unrelenting purpose and concentration about him, both unnatural and disturbing.

  The man let out a soft laugh, his pace slowing. For over thirty minutes he had continued to walk, left to right, then right to left. Then pause. Then start again.

  ‘The original Order of the Ancient Star was born at a time when the fate of the world was young and unpredictable. By the time of the Crusades, the world had already changed beyond recognition,’ he said, pausing for emphasis. ‘The role of the new religion was less in tune with its predecessors, but politically the suffering endured by the people for the evolution of its leaders was little different. Only now this was not to be viewed by any reverence to the God himself. This was the birth of an almighty power struggle. For over a thousand years, the world has been rocked by the decisions of those who call in the name of Christ or Mohammed. In the days when the order was new, there was no such problem. That was when mankind was destined for a greater future.’

  He stopped to look at her.

  ‘In the Middle Ages, great men of superior knowledge were outcast or even executed by those who were too deaf to hear or blind to see the truth of what was said. For fifteen hundred years, the followers of a man from Mecca have shed the blood of innocents, distorted the words of the prophets and manipulated the cause of man. Their great vision for the world is restraint: a tyrannical theocracy where the progress of the masses is substituted for the ball and chain; the ignorant rule as the masses suffer. Such is the way of the Middle East. How strange it is that the evolution of the civilisations of the Middle East has been replaced with such backwardness.’

  Nicole watched, fear relenting and replaced by sheer astonishment.

  ‘The merging of the great religions formed a strong alliance through which the preservation of knowledge and its development could flourish into a state of utopia. That is where the future must lie. Yet that is also why the new religions fear us.’

  Nicole listened to every word. ‘But you said yourself, the Order of the Ancient Star takes on those of all religions. They maintain they have no separate God.’

  ‘The evolution of our order is much like the evolution of man. First a man must serve an apprenticeship; in time, he becomes a master of his craft. Following that, the newly qualified master goes on a journey of discovery, accumulating further knowledge. The man who enters knows little and is entrusted with little until he proves his worth. The fundamentals of the society always have been and will be for the pursuit of knowledge and using that knowledge for the better of the world.’

  ‘So if a Christian man joins, he has the right to remain Christian?’

  The terrorist exhaled. ‘The man enters as a student. Why would you reject the truth when the truth lies before you?’

  She shook her head and laughed. ‘In other words, you brainwash them.’

  ‘You pretend to be a woman of intelligence, but you are yourself just a tool of the common media. You claim to be one who serves the rights and protections, but you are merely another piece of this liberalist chain that has caused so much harm.’

  ‘Common media? If it wasn’t for you, several hundred people would still be alive. You murdered my friend’s father. You murdered the editor of the Tribunal. You’re nothing but a common thug.’

  She breathed with difficulty, unaware that her face had reddened and her voice had b
ecome progressively louder.

  ‘It is not nice to speak to someone in such an uncivilised way,’ he said, standing still. Then he walked closer and released her from her restraints.

  ‘Come, there is much to see.’

  The man from Tyre led Nicole through the room’s only exit and continued along a lengthy corridor. Each side was lined with peculiar patterns, giving the illusion of walking through an Egyptian pyramid. The hieroglyphs were primarily in the style of one of the great ancient civilisations, but ancient history was never her strong point.

  The tunnel was narrow. Its walls were illuminated by a series of lamps, flickering away like lanterns. It was unclear exactly where the power came from, but she assumed the area had its own generator and that the location was somewhere isolated, perhaps in Switzerland. Yet the possibility of something like this existing there, anywhere in Europe, seemed unlikely.

  For all she knew, she was in the Middle East.

  Mansell led her through a second passageway and then through a winding tunnel that eventually led to a small, enclosed chamber that was basic, far more so than she expected. It was rectangular in shape and had at its centre a small enclosure, marked by steps that continued down below the floor.

  She didn’t need telling that this was the Holy of Holies.

  ‘According to Scripture, the tomb was contained in a special location in the First Temple and viewable only to a select few. That was the importance of the object. And the restrictions of those acceptable before God.’

  He gestured in the direction of the next door. ‘If you please.’

  Nicole followed the direction of his hand and continued into a more modern room. A large table took up much of the space with the remainder being filled with electronic audio-visual equipment and various maps and charts.

  Two armed men in Order of the Ancient Star uniforms were standing by the monitors.

  ‘Leave us.’

  Both men saluted and left. Nicole watched them leave through the doors on the other side of the room. The set-up was bizarre. Gone was the impression of antiquity; instead, this room had all the facilities of a secret underground bunker.

  ‘In the early days, the ancient Phoenician civilisation spread all the way from Dor up to the city of Ugarit,’ he said, gesturing to the map. ‘Our roots begin as far back as 3200BC. In time, we became renowned as the greatest traders and business people of the time. Until 539BC, when the great society was lost to the Persians. Then the Kingdom of Phoenicia was divided into four, creating the Kingdoms of Sidon, Tyre, Arwad and Byblos.’

  He singled out each place on the map.

  ‘There, the civilisations were rebuilt,’ he said, looking at her. ‘While traditional historians place the breaking up of the kingdom as the death of the Phoenician society, in truth, it made the importance of our order greater still. Our links with the Kingdom of Israel continued to flourish and the alliance with Egypt was vital. When the time came that we should face the might of the Babylonians and the Romans, it took a special type of people to survive.’

  Nicole studied the long table. The standout feature was a large model depicting the nation as it had been in its prime. Included were model layouts of the cities and their major features. In particular were Tyre, Sidon, Arwad and Byblos and those of Egypt and Israel.

  ‘For over two thousand years, this great civilisation flourished. I’m sure you’ll agree that it’s sad that two millennia of progress should be superseded by another two of a bubbling cauldron. Even by the standards of our ancestors, the carnage of the modern day is unrivalled. They say it is in God’s name, but their actions contradict that very message.’

  He circled the table slowly. ‘There is much that can be learned from the people of the past.’

  Nicole continued to study the model before looking out across the room. Still the man’s purpose remained a mystery. ‘Who are you, and what is it you want?’

  ‘The establishment of the society, known to you as the Order of the Ancient Star, was the result of centuries of progress. The kings of the ancient land realised the benefits of sharing their knowledge with those they fought as opposed to merely killing them. The resulting alliances allowed greater integration, and with greater understanding came great progress. The wise kings of Tyre and their alliances proved prosperous, but that was later lost to the greed of rival states.’

  She shook her head. ‘But that was two thousand years ago. Phoenicia, Egypt, they have all crumbled.’

  ‘The power struggle continues, only now through those who have no claim.’

  He looked at her with serious eyes.

  ‘Following the death of King Pygmalion of Tyre in 785BC, the city’s power shifted. Soon it was taken over by the Assyrians, and the focus of the area changed. Yet even they were not immune to the recent alliances. Ithobaal III failed to prevent the fall of Jerusalem and the former civilisations to the Babylonians. For the royal families, the period was one of carnage. The massacres that followed were unlike any in our history. But was that the end? I am sure it was not.’

  He looked at her and smiled.

  ‘Legend has it that the offspring of Ithobaal III were taken away by a phoenix and protected along with those close to them until such a time that it would be safe to retake what was rightfully theirs. While I am sure mythology has clouded some areas of history, the fundamentals are accurate.’

  He walked slowly in the direction of the wall. A large piece of papyrus was hanging in a frame, laid out in the form of a family tree.

  She examined it but understood nothing. ‘I can’t read the language.’

  ‘The language is itself extinct; it is known only to a select few.’ He smiled. ‘The legacy of the ancient kings of Tyre is a mystery, even to many historians. The original members of the Order of the Ancient Star were included in their sphere and their role became one of vendetta and protection. The rightful kings were deprived of their kingdom. The new Knights Templar learned this, and the order strived to reclaim the kingdom for their rightful rulers. That occurred, but in time it was lost. When the society continued in France and Switzerland, Tyre as a colony of France continued to suffer. Nowadays the kingdoms of the great world are a mismatch between attempted democracy and pointless slaughter.’

  He walked slightly closer, his face inches from hers. ‘The time has come for the ancient kingdoms to return. That is when the true evolution can occur. If history has taught us one thing, it is the importance of the correct king.’

  She looked at him for several seconds. Only then did she realise what he meant. ‘You?’

  He gestured again at the papyrus. ‘The lineage of the kings of Tyre has been carefully chronicled since the earliest of days. The lineage is correct and has been known for some time. The governments and militants of the former state fear this, for they know what waits.’

  She looked back, gobsmacked. ‘This is why you exist. You want to be king.’

  ‘For over two thousand years, the sons of the kings of old have been deprived of their birthright. What was taken away must be returned. For there is nothing hidden that will not be disclosed, and nothing concealed that will not be brought out into the open.’

  She shook her head, unable to take in what she was hearing. ‘This makes no sense; the kingdoms of Phoenicia, Jerusalem and Egypt fell too long ago. No one can have a legal claim for something gone that long.’

  ‘You are forgetting, woman, that the fundamentals of civilised law rarely apply to countries governed by ruthless, corrupt, avaricious and unprincipled dictators. Should it not be for those reasons, the necessity of what is still to come would be far less relevant.’

  She shook her head. ‘But this makes no sense: Lebanon has been at war almost non-stop for decades. Which side do you even support?’

  The terrorist laughed. ‘You call yourself a journalist, but what you fail to realise is that all sides are being played for fools. Without knowing, they too support our cause.’

  She looked at him, nodding wi
th irony. ‘You mean let them kick the shit out of each other and you take over?’

  ‘How blind you must be,’ he said, shaking his head and looking at her with disdain. ‘How fortunate it is you had a friend who knew something more than you do.’

  Nicole’s eyes lit up. ‘Amanda? She’s here?’

  He looked at her seriously. ‘Come.’

  He led her through the door and down another passage, this time lined with guards. The corridor was modern, like that of a defence facility.

  He showed her through double doors, now coming to stone steps more in keeping with a medieval castle.

  At the bottom was a dungeon. In the poor light she could make out a cramped cell, containing two people.

  ‘Amanda.’

  She ran, practically stumbling to the bottom and through the door. The door was unlocked, surprisingly, though the one above clearly could not be opened from that side.

  Nicole started crying, holding Amanda tightly. ‘I thought you were dead.’

  Metres away, Sandra watched. Suddenly she cried out. ‘Watch out.’

  The door to the cell slammed shut, and the terrorist locked it with a padlock.

  Nicole turned and struggled against the door. ‘Let me out.’

  Mansell eyed her menacingly. ‘My dear, you disappoint me. For over three weeks my men have been watching you. The reports were good: they said that you were a resourceful young woman, capable of standing on her own two feet. I really thought there might even be a place for you at my table.’

  ‘I don’t associate with terrorists.’

  He laughed. ‘How ironic. You’ve been working for me all along.’

  He laughed louder. ‘You see, it was I who planted the story about William Anson. I who diverted the true stories about our involvement in the murders of the doctor in Switzerland and the man in Singapore, even the journalist in Prague and the ones who used to work for the Tribunal.’