THE NOSTRADAMUS PROPHECIES

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THE NOSTRADAMUS PROPHECIES Page 11

by Mario Reading


  ‘You’re a re­al ca­se. You know that, Ale­xi?’

  They we­re par­ked on the bat­tle­ments abo­ve the Ro­ca­ma­do­ur shri­ne. Be­low them we­re gar­dens, set in­to the she­er rock of the cliffs, in­ter­sec­ted with win­ding paths and vi­ew­po­ints. A few to­urists we­re strol­ling aro­und in a de­sul­tory way, was­ting ti­me be­fo­re din­ner.

  ‘Lo­ok at tho­se se­arch­lights. We ne­ed to get in be­fo­re dusk. When they turn tho­se things on, this who­le hil­lsi­de will light up li­ke a Christ­mas tree.’

  ‘Do you think we’ve be­aten him to it?’

  ‘We’ll only know when you bre­ak in­to the shri­ne.’

  Ale­xi snif­fed. ‘But I won’t bre­ak in­to the shri­ne.’

  ‘What do you me­an? You aren’t bot­tling out on me, are you?’

  ‘Bot­tling…? I don’t un­ders­tand.’

  ‘Tur­ning chic­ken.’

  Ale­xi la­ug­hed and sho­ok his he­ad. ‘Adam. It’s a simp­le eno­ugh ru­le. Bre­aking in­to so­mew­he­re is very dif­fi­cult - but bre­aking out is easy.’

  ‘Oh. I see.’ Sa­bir he­si­ta­ted. ‘At le­ast I think I do.’

  ‘So whe­re will you be?’

  ‘I’ll hi­de out­si­de, then and watch. If he co­mes along, I’ll whop him one with yo­ur holly stick.’ He wa­ited for the stun­ned re­ac­ti­on, but it didn’t co­me. ‘No. It’s all right. I’m only joking. I ha­ven’t go­ne mad.’

  Ale­xi lo­oked nonp­lus­sed. ‘But what will you re­al­ly do?’

  Sa­bir sig­hed. He re­ali­sed that he was still a very long way in­de­ed from un­ders­tan­ding the gypsy men­ta­lity. ‘I’ll just stay hid­den out­si­de, as we ag­re­ed. That way I can warn you by wolf-whist­ling when I see him. When you get to the Vir­gin, bring her back to Yo­la in the car and then co­me down and jo­in me aga­in. Bet­we­en the two of us we sho­uld be ab­le to bushw­hack him so­mew­he­re in­si­de the shri­ne, whe­re it’s sa­fer and whe­re the­re aren’t any pe­op­le aro­und to get in the way.’

  ‘You don’t think she’ll be angry with us?’

  ‘Who? Yo­la? Why?’

  ‘No. I me­an the Vir­gin.’

  ‘Christ, Ale­xi. You’re not ha­ving se­cond tho­ughts on me, are you?’

  ‘No. No. I will ta­ke it. But I will pray to her first. Ask her to for­gi­ve me.’

  ‘You do that. Now cut me that stick.’

  44

  Ale­xi wo­ke up just as the eve­ning ca­re­ta­ker was bol­ting shut the out­si­de do­ors le­ading to the shri­ne. He had sec­re­ted him­self, forty mi­nu­tes ear­li­er, be­hind the al­tar of the St Sa­uve­ur Ba­si­li­ca, which so­me­one had con­ve­ni­ently co­ve­red with a long-frin­ged blue and whi­te li­nen cloth. Then he had al­most im­me­di­ately fal­len as­le­ep.

  For ten pa­nic-stric­ken se­conds he wasn’t qu­ite su­re whe­re he was. Then he rol­led him­self deftly out from un­der the al­tar cloth and sto­od up, pri­or to a stretch. It was at this po­int that he re­ali­sed that so­me­one el­se was in the church with him.

  He cro­uc­hed back be­hind the al­tar and felt for his kni­fe. It to­ok him a snap fi­ve se­conds to re­mem­ber that he had thrown it on to the back se­at of the car, af­ter cut­ting Sa­bir’s stick. Not for the first ti­me, Ale­xi fo­und him­self cur­sing his con­ge­ni­tal inat­ten­ti­on to de­ta­il.

  He eased him­self aro­und the si­de of the al­tar, ope­ning his eyes as wi­de as he co­uld to gat­her in the last of the eve­ning light in­si­de the church. The stran­ger was hunc­hed for­ward in one of the cho­ir-stall cha­irs, abo­ut fifty fe­et from whe­re he was cro­uc­hing. Had he be­en as­le­ep as well? Or was he pra­ying?

  As he watc­hed, the man sto­od up and mo­ved to­wards the do­or of the shri­ne - it so­on be­ca­me cle­ar by the man­ner of his prog­ress that he had be­en lis­te­ning and wa­iting for the watch­man too. He ra­ised the latch with his hand, swung the do­or si­lently open and step­ped in­si­de.

  Ale­xi lo­oked wildly to­wards the Ba­si­li­ca do­ors. Sa­bir was out­si­de them and as ef­fec­ti­vely out of re­ach as if so­me­one had se­aled him be­hind the ga­te of a bank va­ult. What sho­uld he do? What wo­uld Sa­bir want him to do?

  He to­ok off his sho­es. Then he eased him­self out from be­hind the al­tar and pad­ded to­wards the shri­ne. He inc­hed his he­ad aro­und the do­or.

  The man had switc­hed on a torch and was in­ves­ti­ga­ting the mas­si­ve gla­zed brass plinth on which the Vir­gin was disp­la­yed. As Ale­xi watc­hed, he be­gan le­ve­ring at the ba­se of the ca­bi­net. When he fo­und that he co­uldn’t open the front, he tur­ned sharply aro­und and lo­oked back to­wards the Ba­si­li­ca.

  Ale­xi fro­ze aga­inst the out­si­de wall.

  The man’s fo­ots­teps star­ted in his di­rec­ti­on.

  Ale­xi tip­to­ed as far as the al­tar and hid him­self in the sa­me pla­ce he had used be­fo­re. If the man had he­ard him, he was do­ne for any­way. He might as well die on sanc­ti­fi­ed gro­und.

  The­re was the sud­den shri­ek of a cha­ir leg be­ing drag­ged ac­ross a sto­ne flo­or. Ale­xi pop­ped his he­ad out from co­ver. The man was pul­ling two cho­ir-stall cha­irs be­hind him. It was ob­vi­o­us that he in­ten­ded to ma­ke a lad­der for him­self so that he co­uld mo­re easily re­ach the Vir­gin.

  Using the so­und of the cha­irs as co­ver, Ale­xi fol­lo­wed the stran­ger back in­to the crypt. This ti­me, tho­ugh, he to­ok ad­van­ta­ge of the man’s inat­ten­ti­on to ap­pro­ach much clo­ser to the disp­lay ca­bi­net. He lay down bet­we­en two pews clo­se to the front of the ma­in ais­le, af­for­ding him­self both the op­por­tu­nity to see what was hap­pe­ning and suf­fi­ci­ent co­ver from the so­lid oak pew-front bet­we­en them sho­uld the man de­ci­de he ne­eded to re­turn to the Ba­si­li­ca for a third cha­ir.

  As Ale­xi watc­hed, the man set one cha­ir on top of the ot­her and then tes­ted them for su­re­ness. He tut-tut­ted lo­udly and then mut­te­red so­met­hing to him­self un­der his bre­ath.

  Ale­xi watc­hed as the man fi­xed the torch in­to the back of his tro­users and be­gan to climb up the ma­kes­hift lad­der. So this was it. This wo­uld be his one chan­ce. If he botc­hed it, he was de­ad. He wo­uld wa­it un­til the man was te­ete­ring on the apex of the cha­irs and then over­set him.

  At the cru­ci­al mo­ment, the man re­ac­hed up for one of the brass cand­le scon­ces be­low the Vir­gin’s plinth and swung him­self ef­fort­les­sly on to the disp­lay ca­bi­net it­self.

  Ale­xi, who had not an­ti­ci­pa­ted the sud­den mo­ve si­de­ways, fo­und him­self ca­ught half­way bet­we­en the pew and the ca­bi­net. The man tur­ned and sta­red at him full on. Then he smi­led.

  Wit­ho­ut thin­king, Ale­xi pic­ked up one of the he­avy brass cand­les­ticks that flan­ked the ca­bi­net and swung it at the man with all his might.

  The cand­les­tick struck Ac­hor Ba­le just abo­ve the right ear. He let go of the si­de of the ca­bi­net and tumb­led eight fe­et back­wards on to the gra­ni­te flo­or. Ale­xi had al­re­ady ar­med him­self with the se­cond cand­les­tick but he so­on saw that it wasn’t ne­ces­sary. The stran­ger was out cold.

  Ale­xi se­pa­ra­ted the two cha­irs. Grun­ting, he man­hand­led Ba­le on to the cha­ir ne­arest the ca­bi­net. He felt aro­und in Ba­le’s poc­kets and withd­rew a wal­let stuf­fed with bank­no­tes and a small auto­ma­tic pis­tol. ‘Pu­ta­in!’

  He poc­ke­ted the wal­let and the pis­tol and lo­oked wildly aro­und the Sanc­tu­ary. He no­ti­ced so­me da­mask cur­ta­ins, held back with cord. He strip­ped the cord from the cur­ta­ins and ti­ed Ba­le’s arms and body to the cha­ir­back. Then he used the re­ma­ining cha­ir to clam­ber up the disp­lay ca­bi­net and se­cu­re the
Vir­gin.

  45

  Sa­bir he­ard the crash cle­arly from his hi­ding pla­ce ac­ross the small squ­are in front of the Sanc­tu­ary. He had be­en lis­te­ning with all his at­ten­ti­on ever sin­ce he had first he­ard the dis­tant so­und of bar­king cha­ir legs from de­ep in­si­de the Ba­si­li­ca. The crash, ho­we­ver, had co­me from much clo­ser to whe­re the Vir­gin was si­tu­ated.

  He bro­ke co­ver and ma­de stra­ight for the he­avy crypt do­or. It was tightly se­aled. He bac­ked away from the bu­il­ding and glan­ced up at the win­dows. They we­re all too high for him to re­ach.

  ‘Ale­xi!’ He tri­ed to ma­ke his vo­ice carry thro­ugh the Sanc­tu­ary walls, but not furt­her than the co­urt­yard it­self. It was a tall or­der - the co­urt­yard ac­ted as a per­fect ec­ho cham­ber. He wa­ited a few mo­re mo­ments to see if the do­or wo­uld open, then, gri­ma­cing, he tri­ed aga­in, but lo­uder. ‘Ale­xi! Are you in the­re? Ans­wer me.’

  ‘Hey you! What are you do­ing he­re?’ The el­derly gar­di­en was hur­rying to­wards him, a wor­ri­ed exp­res­si­on on his fa­ce. ‘This area is en­ti­rely clo­sed off to to­urists af­ter ni­ne o’clock in the eve­ning.’

  Sa­bir of­fe­red up a bri­ef pra­yer of thanks that he had left his holly stick be­hind him in his ur­ge to get ac­ross to the shri­ne. ‘Lo­ok, I’m ter­ribly sorry. But I was pas­sing by and I he­ard a ter­rib­le crash from in­si­de the shri­ne. I think so­me­one’s in the­re. Can you open up?’

  The watch­man hur­ri­ed for­ward, re­li­ef at Sa­bir’s non-aggres­si­ve to­ne now ming­ling with his an­xi­ety. ‘A crash, you say? Are you su­re?’

  ‘It so­un­ded li­ke so­me­one was thro­wing cha­irs abo­ut. Do you think you’ve got van­dals?’

  ‘Van­dals?’ The man’s fa­ce to­ok on a cu­ri­o­us li­vid qu­ality, as if he had sud­denly be­en vo­uch­sa­fed a fo­re­tas­te of Hell. ‘But how co­uld you ha­ve be­en pas­sing by? I shut the out­si­de ga­tes ten mi­nu­tes ago.’

  Sa­bir sus­pec­ted that the gar­di­en was pro­bably en­co­un­te­ring the first re­al cri­sis of his ca­re­er. ‘Lo­ok. I’ll be ho­nest with you. I do­zed off. Over the­re on the sto­ne bench. It was stu­pid, I know. I’d just wo­ken up when I he­ard the crash. You’d bet­ter ta­ke a lo­ok. I’ll back you up. It may be a fal­se alarm, of co­ur­se. You’re res­pon­sib­le to the church aut­ho­ri­ti­es, aren’t you?’

  The man he­si­ta­ted, tem­po­ra­rily con­fu­sed by Sa­bir’s plet­ho­ra of dif­fe­rent mes­sa­ges. Fe­ar for his po­si­ti­on fi­nal­ly won out over his sus­pi­ci­ons, ho­we­ver and he be­gan to fe­el aro­und in his poc­ket for the keys. ‘You’re su­re you he­ard a crash?’

  ‘Cle­ar as a bell. It ca­me from just in­si­de the Sanc­tu­ary.’

  At that exact mo­ment, as if to or­der, the­re was anot­her, lo­uder crash, fol­lo­wed by a strang­led cry. Then si­len­ce.

  The watch­man’s mo­uth fell open and his eyes wi­de­ned. Hands sha­king, he in­ser­ted the key in­to the mas­si­ve oak do­or.

  46

  Achor Ba­le ope­ned his eyes. Blo­od was trick­ling down his fa­ce and the run­nels at the si­de of his mo­uth - he dar­ted out his ton­gue and mop­ped so­me up. The cop­pery tas­te ac­ted as a wel­co­me sti­mu­lant.

  He eased his neck aga­inst his sho­ul­der and then scis­so­red his jaws open and shut li­ke a hor­se. Not­hing bro­ken. No re­al harm do­ne. He glan­ced down­wards.

  The gypsy had ti­ed him to the cha­ir. Well. That was only to be ex­pec­ted. He ought to ha­ve chec­ked over every inch of the Sanc­tu­ary first. Not as­su­med that his in­ter­ven­ti­on with the girl had be­en eno­ugh to dri­ve them off. He had ne­ver ex­pec­ted her to sur­vi­ve the ri­ver. Tant pis. He sho­uld ha­ve kil­led her out­right when he had the chan­ce - but why risk le­aving tra­ces when na­tu­re can do the job for you? The call had be­en a go­od one - the end re­sult was just one of tho­se things. The three of them had be­en inc­re­dibly qu­ick off the mark. He must re­vi­se his opi­ni­on of Sa­bir. Not un­de­res­ti­ma­te him aga­in.

  Ba­le let his chin fall back on to his chest, as if he we­re still un­cons­ci­o­us. His eyes we­re wi­de open, tho­ugh and ta­king in all the gypsy’s mo­ve­ments.

  Now the man was clam­be­ring down the si­de of the disp­lay ca­bi­net, the Black Ma­don­na in his hands. With no he­si­ta­ti­on what­so­ever, the gypsy then upen­ded the sta­tue and sta­red in­tently at its ba­se. As Ba­le watc­hed, Ale­xi set the Ma­don­na ca­re­ful­ly on the flo­or and prost­ra­ted him­self in front of it. Then he al­ter­na­tely kis­sed and la­id his fo­re­he­ad on her fe­et, the baby Jesus and on the Ma­don­na’s hand.

  Ba­le rol­led his eyes. No won­der the­se pe­op­le we­re still per­se­cu­ted by all and sundry. He felt li­ke per­se­cu­ting them him­self.

  The gypsy sto­od up and glan­ced ac­ross at him. He­re it co­mes, tho­ught Ba­le. I won­der how he’ll do it? Kni­fe pro­bably. He co­uldn’t re­al­ly see the gypsy using the pis­tol. Too mo­dern. Too comp­li­ca­ted. He pro­bably wo­uldn’t be ab­le to fi­gu­re out the trig­ger mec­ha­nism.

  Ba­le kept his he­ad re­so­lu­tely on his chest. I’m de­ad, he sa­id to him­self. I’m not bre­at­hing. The fall kil­led me. Co­me over he­re and check me out, did­di­kai. How can you re­sist? Just think what fun you’ll ha­ve bo­as­ting abo­ut yo­ur exp­lo­its to the girl. Imp­res­sing the ga­dje. Pla­ying the big man amongst yo­ur tri­be.

  Ale­xi star­ted ac­ross the flo­or to­wards him. He stop­ped bri­efly to pick up one of the fal­len brass cand­les­ticks.

  So that’s how you’re go­ing to do it, eh? Be­at me to de­ath whi­le I’m ti­ed up? Ni­ce. But first you’ll ha­ve to check if I’m still ali­ve. Even you wo­uldn’t sto­op to be­ating up a de­ad man. Or wo­uld you?

  Ale­xi stop­ped in front of Ba­le’s cha­ir. He re­ac­hed out and eased Ba­le’s he­ad away from his chest. Then he spat in Ba­le’s fa­ce.

  Ba­le threw him­self and the cha­ir back­wards, kic­king vi­ci­o­usly up­wards with both fe­et as he did so. Ale­xi scre­amed. He drop­ped the cand­les­tick and fell, first to his kne­es, and thew, gro­aning, he cur­led him­self up in a ball on the gro­und.

  Ba­le was on his fe­et now, hunc­hed for­wards, but with the cha­ir still at­tac­hed to his back, li­ke a sna­il. He hop­ped to­wards Ale­xi’s writ­hing body and threw him­self back­wards, corksc­rew fas­hi­on, cha­ir fo­re­most, on to Ale­xi’s he­ad.

  Then he rol­led away, one eye on the ma­in do­or of the church, the ot­her on Ale­xi.

  Twis­ting his body si­de­ways, Ba­le ma­na­ged to roll most of his we­ight on to his kne­es. Then he lurc­hed up­right and al­lo­wed the we­ight of the cha­ir to carry him back­wards aga­inst a sto­ne pil­lar. He felt the cha­ir be­gin to splin­ter. He re­pe­ated the exer­ci­se twi­ce mo­re and the cha­ir di­sin­teg­ra­ted be­hind him.

  Ale­xi was twitc­hing. One hand was re­ac­hing out ac­ross the sto­ne fl oor to­wards the fal­len cand­les­tick.

  Ba­le shrug­ged off the re­ma­ining ro­pes from aro­und his sho­ul­ders and star­ted to­wards him.

  47

  Sa­bir pus­hed past the gar­di­en and in­to the Sanc­tu­ary an­tec­ham­ber. It was dark in the­re - al­most too dark to see.

  The gar­di­en threw so­me hid­den switc­hes and the pla­ce was trans­for­med by a se­ri­es of flo­od­lights hid­den in the ro­of jo­ists. Bro­ken pi­eces of wo­od and dis­car­ded ro­pe lay scat­te­red in an arc ac­ross the fl ags­to­nes. Ale­xi lay to one si­de, a few fe­et away from the Black Ma­don­na, his fa­ce co­ve­red in blo­od. A man was cro­uc­hing over him, fe­eling thro­ugh his poc­kets.

  Sa­bir and the gar­di­en fro­ze. As they watc­hed, one of Ale­xi�
��s hands emer­ged from be­ne­ath his body, clutc­hing a pis­tol. The man lurc­hed back­wards. Ale­xi po­in­ted the pis­tol stra­ight out in front of him­self, just as if he we­re in the pro­cess of sho­oting at the man - but not­hing hap­pe­ned. No so­und emer­ged.

  The man ret­re­ated to­wards the Ba­si­li­ca, his eyes fi­xed on Ale­xi and the pis­tol. At the very last mo­ment he glan­ced to­wards Sa­bir and smi­led. He drew a fin­ger lightly ac­ross his thro­at.

  Ale­xi let the pis­tol clat­ter to the flo­or. When Sa­bir lo­oked aga­in at whe­re the man had be­en, he was go­ne.

  ‘Can he get out that way?’

  The gar­di­en nod­ded. ‘The­re is an exit. Yes. It’s how he must ha­ve co­me in.’

  Sa­bir drop­ped down be­si­de Ale­xi - his bra­in was se­et­hing with pos­sib­le exit stra­te­gi­es for them­sel­ves now. He put one hand dra­ma­ti­cal­ly over Ale­xi’s he­art. ‘This man is badly inj­ured. We ne­ed an am­bu­lan­ce.’

  The gar­di­en clut­c­hed at his thro­at. ‘A mo­bi­le pho­ne do­esn’t work in he­re. It’s too ne­ar the mo­un­ta­in­si­de. The­re’s no re­cep­ti­on. I’ll ne­ed to pho­ne from the of­fi­ce.’ He didn’t mo­ve.

  ‘Lo­ok. I’ve got the pis­tol. I’ll ke­ep this man co­ve­red and ma­ke su­re the Vir­gin co­mes to no harm. Go and pho­ne for the po­li­ce and an am­bu­lan­ce. It’s ur­gent.’

  The old man se­emed abo­ut to ans­wer back.

  ‘Other­wi­se I’ll go and pho­ne and you stay he­re. He­re’s the pis­tol.’ He held it out, butt first.

  ‘No. No, Mon­si­e­ur. They wo­uldn’t know who you are. You stay he­re. I’ll go.’ The gar­di­en’s vo­ice was sha­king and he lo­oked on the ver­ge of col­lap­se.

 

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