The Apocalypse Fire (Ava Curzon Trilogy Book 2)

by Dominic Selwood

  “What’s so important about the Apocalypse anyway?” Ferguson asked, turning to Ava and Mary. “Why does this all matter so much to Durov? I found a Bible on the bookshelves in my room last night, and read it.” He pulled a face. “What on earth’s it all about? The whole thing’s totally psychedelic. When—”

  “It’s prophetic,” Mary cut in. “A vision. About the End Times.”

  Ferguson took the small Bible out of his pocket. “It’s certainly dreamlike. Look.”

  He opened it at the Apocalypse, and began flicking through as he spoke. “It starts by saying that John heard the voice of a man who was wearing a long robe with a golden sash around his chest. His hair was white as snow. His eyes blazed like fire. His feet were like bronze glowing in a furnace. His voice sounded like rushing waters. He was holding seven stars. A sharp two-edged sword was coming from his mouth. And his face shone like the sun.” He looked up. “That’s not the usual sort of thing you get in the Bible. It’s more like that Beatles film, Yellow Submarine.”

  “You’re not the first person to find it trippy.” Ava smiled.

  “And it goes on like that for twenty-two Chapters,” Ferguson continued. “Seven angels with seven seals. Seven trumpets. Seven bowls. Seven plagues. Beasts with many heads, crowns, and horns. Angels rolling up the heavens like a scroll. A woman on a scarlet horse holding a cup of her adultery – whatever that is. It’s like the Twelve Days of Christmas on acid.”

  “True,” Mary agreed. “But there’s a basic story running through it.

  Ferguson closed the book. “I got that. If you leave aside all the scrolls and seals and trumpets, you get a hundred and forty-four thousand people being marked with a seal in order to be saved. There’s an almighty battle between God and the Devil, after which the Devil is cast into the pit for a thousand years. Meanwhile, the people with the seals reign with Jesus. Then the Devil is freed, and there’s another almighty battle, after which the Devil is defeated and thrown into a lake of sulphur for all time. God then judges everyone. The good people go to heaven. The bad people are thrown into the lake of sulphur. Is that about right?”

  Mary nodded. “Although, as you can imagine, everyone has a different view on what it all means. Many people muddle it all up by throwing in other Bible books, like Thessalonians, which says that a load of people rise up into the air and are saved in what they call the Rapture. That said, no one is really clear when it all happens, or how it’s linked to the time of the Tribulation or the Last Judgement. And no one agrees on how the Rapture and the Tribulation fit into the thousand years. Or even if the thousand years is literal or symbolic. Almost every Church has a different view.”

  “A holy mess.” Ferguson shook his head.

  “Saint John’s Gospel and the Apocalypse have always been seen as a bit different to the rest of the Bible,” Ava added. “They have a mystical Gnostic feel to them. Some early churchmen refused to read John because the heretics loved it so much. There was even a widespread belief that the Apocalypse wasn’t written by John, but by a Gnostic heresiarch called Cerinthus. The Cathars – who were part Gnostic – relied entirely on John’s Gospel, and rejected the rest of the Bible.”

  As the hills started to turn into small mountains, the landscape became greener, more forested, and wilder. The road dropped down to two narrow lanes, and started to wind along the contours of the ancient hills of the Pays d’Olmes.

  After driving a while in silence, each of them lost in thought, they rounded a bend, and the view was unexpectedly dominated by a striking sugarloaf mountain about a mile and a half ahead. It rose high above everything, dominating the skyline.

  Clearly visible at its dizzying peak was the shell of a medieval castle.

  “What’s that?” Ferguson asked, awe-struck.

  “That,” Ava replied slowly, “is Montségur. Mons Securus in Latin. Safe Hill.”

  She slowed the car so they could all look at it. “And I’m pretty sure that’s where Durov is – at the location of the last stand of the Cathars.”

  Chapter 58

  Château de Montségur

  Languedoc-Roussillon-Midi-Pyrénées

  The Republic of France

  THE MOUNTAIN LOOMED in front of them as the road snaked to the right, hugging its base.

  Ahead, the tarmac widened, and there were spaces on either side of the road for several dozen cars to park.

  Slowing, Ava spotted tourist information panels about the site, and the start of a footpath leading up the side of the mountain to the castle at the top.

  But she could also see that the start of the path had been roped off, and three bulky men were guarding the access. It was not possible to tell if they were armed, but there was no doubt they had been chosen for their muscle.

  “Don’t stare,” Ava ordered, and carried on driving, slowly increasing her speed.

  As they left the parking area, the road narrowed, and Ava drove on through the village of Montségur, before rounding the mountain and heading north, up its east side.

  Out of the windows, they could see the mountain’s sheer cliff face rising up to the top of the crest. “That was how the crusaders took the castle in the end,” Ava said, straining to look up at the dizzying rock face.

  “Up that?” Mary sounded incredulous. “But it’s vertical.”

  Ava nodded. “The Cathars hadn’t even put a guard on this side as they thought it was unclimbable. But the crusaders brought Basque mercenaries, who knew exactly how to get up it. In the dark.”

  Mary’s jaw dropped.

  “Anyway,” Ava turned the car around. ‘Let’s ditch the car back in the village. We’re going to have to approach on foot.”

  Chapter 59

  West Syrian Desert

  The Syrian Arab Republic

  THE MLRS MOBILE missile platform had been resprayed a dirty sand colour, and all Israeli markings had been removed. The tech team had ripped out all tracking and control devices, and it was now an independent weapons unit – unaffiliated, and off the grid.

  The mid-morning heat was already baking the west Syrian desert when the lethal vehicle moved off purposefully across the sands, its silhouette shimmering in the heat haze.

  Inside the forward personnel cabin, the two men knew exactly what they had to do.

  Although they had trained on nothing remotely similar in the Ground Forces of the Russian Federation, the system had turned out to be child’s play to operate.

  It was, after all, designed for soldiers.

  Once they were clear of their temporary base, the navigator punched in the destination coordinates, and the vehicle rumbled west, towards the Israeli border.

  Chapter 60

  Château de Montségur

  Languedoc-Roussillon-Midi-Pyrénées

  The Republic of France

  AVA HAD PARKED the car in the village, and they headed north on foot, keeping off the road, making for the base of the mountain.

  They had avoided the official car park and three guards, and instead started climbing through the brush and scrub, scrambling higher until they were no longer visible to any of the occasional cars passing along the road below.

  “We need to rejoin the path on the western slope,” Ferguson announced, pointing left. “Even if we stay a few yards away from it, the climb is going to be easiest on that face.”

  They nodded and followed him, skirting west around the side of the mountain.

  As she walked, Ava was left to her own thoughts, which turned to Ferguson and Mary.

  Nothing had been said since they had all met up.

  Ferguson had tried to raise the subject on the telephone beforehand, but Ava had cut him off. She had kept her resolve to just accept whatever was happening. All of them had to concentrate on what Durov was up to.

  After about twenty minutes, Ferguson halted and dropped to the ground. Ava caught up with him and crouched down low beside him. Mary was immediately behind her.

  “Down there,” he whispered, pointing
.

  Ava looked where he was indicating, and made out the car park area they had driven through earlier.

  The three men were still there. But now they seemed to be more active. One had binoculars, and was scouring the hillside. The other two seemed to be scanning the area around them.

  “They’re being cautious, aren’t they?” Mary shielded her eyes from the sun as she looked down on the guards.

  “Come on.” Ferguson pointed to a line of trees a little above them. “There’s cover up there. Then we can start climbing again.”

  They reached the area, and started ascending in earnest. The mountain was rocky in places, and the climb was increasingly slow and hard going.

  They continued in silence, and as they neared the top, they passed a low wall with a group of five large round stones several yards in front of it.

  “Cannon balls?” Ferguson asked, pointing at them.

  Ava stopped to peer at the stones. Then she moved over to examine the remnants of the wall, and the heavy damage it had taken. “Well,” she answered, grateful for the moment’s break from the hard walking. “You won’t see this very often. This looks like part of the original Cathar wall. And these stones are from a medieval siege engine – probably a trebuchet, judging by size. I’d guess they were fired at that wall, and haven’t moved in over seven hundred years.”

  “You mean, they got a trebuchet halfway up this hill?” Mary looked incredulous.

  Ava nodded. “Higher. The attacking crusaders got siege engines right to the top.”

  They set off again, and before long Ava could finally see snatches of the castle’s long south-western wall appearing through the trees and shrubs ahead.

  Drawing closer, the increasing gaps in the foliage revealed that the castle’s wall was solid, with only one small entranceway placed about ten feet off the ground. To access it, a wooden staircase had been tacked to the outside wall.

  “Smart.” Ferguson peered at the dilapidated steps. “I suppose if they were ever under siege, they just retracted the stairs?”

  Ava nodded. “Or burned them. It’s a standard arrangement on castles where there’s no opportunity for a moat and drawbridge.”

  When they had passed through the small village of Montségur earlier, Ava had seen numerous postcards bristling on display racks outside the few shops and café-bars. The pictures on them almost unanimously showed the current castle shell, as well as drawings and visual reconstructions of the earlier Cathar buildings.

  It seemed the Cathars had topped the mountain with a castrum, or fortified medieval village. The settlement was perched on the very top of the mountain, and comprised dozens of houses jammed together, cheek by jowl, in a higgledy-piggledy cluster. Around them, three rings of defensive walls, a barbican, and several towers provided protection.

  After the defeat of the Cathars, the village in the clouds had been knocked down, and the stones reused to build a royal castle on the site, whose ruins were the ones still dominating the mountaintop today.

  It was a monster castle.

  At its west was the great donjon – an ultra-fortified rectangular stone box, at least four storeys tall, with space for a wooden hoarding to be erected on top in time of attack. Its menace was enhanced by numerous arrow slits and only a few small windows.

  Attached to the donjon was a large bailey in the form of a high-walled alley-like pentagonal courtyard running the length of the mountain’s crest.

  Ava was looking forward to getting a closer view.

  As they approached the edge of the cover a few yards from the top of the mountain, Ferguson motioned for them to stop. “We need to stay out of sight and watch for a while,” he advised. “Let’s see who else is up here.”

  He went off for a few moments, then returned and led them to a small cluster of trees, where he indicated for everyone to sit down in the shade and make themselves comfortable.

  The air was crisp, and there was almost no sound apart from the cicadas.

  Ava was grateful for the chance to let her mind rove again over the conversation with Jennings.

  “He’s not perfect. But he will be.”

  “When the rockets are launched on Damascus, the prophecy will be fulfilled.”

  What exactly did it all mean?

  Was there to be some kind of Cathar ceremony of perfection?

  Around a quarter of an hour passed, then Ferguson motioned for absolute silence.

  Ava listened carefully, and heard the sound of voices and footsteps coming up the path.

  As the voices grew more distinct, she could make out the words more clearly.

  They were speaking Russian.

  The path was only twenty yards away and, within a few moments, four men emerged onto the rocky plateau, where Ava had a good view of them.

  They were weather-beaten, and looked like they spent their lives outdoors.

  Two of them were carrying a large steel flight case slung between them. It was sprayed in desert camouflage colours, and she could make out markings of the Israeli Defence Force. The top of the case was unlidded, revealing an all-weather computer console and other controls built around a small screen. Another of the men was holding a large military satellite radio with a long bendy aerial. The fourth was carrying what looked like an external battery pack.

  Instead of climbing the wooden steps to the castle’s main entrance, they turned left, and disappeared off around the corner of the building.

  “That’s serious hardware,” Ferguson noted.

  “What’s the range of an MLRS’s rockets?” Ava asked, with a mounting sense of dread.

  “Depends what it’s loaded with,” Ferguson answered. “Can be seventy-five miles. Usually around forty-five.”

  Ava already had her bag open. “You mentioned it, at Ben Gurion.” She looked up at Mary hastily. “You said there was a rumour the IDF had lost an MLRS launcher in the Golan Heights.” She paused. “Now we know who’s got it.”

  She found what she was looking for, and pulled it out.

  It was the tablet she had received in the post from Uri.

  She placed it on the ground in front of her and pushed the power button.

  “The Israelis need to get people to the Golan right now,” she explained hurriedly. “Someone has to find that MLRS before Durov hooks his controls up to it.”

  Once the tablet had booted up, she entered the same passwords as before, and opened Skype.

  The icon for CALEB was still there. And the green dot beside it showed that Uri was currently online.

  She tapped the Video Call icon, and was relieved to hear the intermittent ring tone indicating that it was patching her through to him.

  After twenty seconds, it was still ringing.

  She let it continue for a minute.

  Nothing.

  She checked the 4G mobile signal reception.

  It was fine.

  She hung up, and tried again.

  It rang for another minute.

  “Looks like he’s not picking up.” Ferguson glanced grimly at the tablet.

  Ava’s anger was rising. “He’s there. I know he is.”

  She tapped the Video Call button again. The light was still green, with an ONLINE flag by his name.

  The tone continued to ring out.

  “He’s not picking up,” Mary concluded.

  “Bloody hell!” Ava stabbed the red button to hang up.

  It was unbelievable.

  Uri had been nothing but a self-centred headache from the start. And now, when there was serious work to be done – not least defending his country – he was playing games with her.

  She shut the tablet off angrily.

  Or did he know exactly what was happening?

  Was he doing more than protecting Durov?

  Jennings had said he had friends in the Middle East.

  Was Uri working with him?

  “We need a Plan B,” she announced. “And fast.”

  “Leave it to me.” Mary pulled out h
er phone and started typing quickly. When she finished, there was a long pause, then her phone buzzed.

  “Done.” She looked up.

  Ava stared at her, wide-eyed with incredulity. “Are you going to explain?”

  “The Order of Malta,” Mary answered. “We saw them at the airport in Israel, remember? They were on their way to replace the existing UN peacekeeping troops in the Golan.” She smiled. “Where did you think I got the guns from?”

  “But you said they were an independent Order.” Ava challenged her. “You said you couldn’t enter their palace.”

  “All true.” Mary nodded. “Five-O-Four has no jurisdiction to enter the Order of Malta’s sovereign territory. But ultimately the Knights have been loyal to the pope for a thousand years. They stand beside the Vatican when we need them.”

  Ava’s mind flashed back to the giant painting of the battle of Lepanto on the staircase of the Palazzo Malta. On it, she had seen the galleys of the Papal States and the Knights of Saint John side by side. She had once heard that Lepanto was the largest naval battle the world had ever seen – the last of the great clashes of galleys – and it had definitively halted the westward spread of conquering Islam.

  “We all belong to the same organization,” Mary continued. “The armed wing of the Order of Malta is the pope’s only remaining deployable armed force. And these days their services are becoming increasingly useful to the Church.”

  “What about the Swiss Guard?” Ferguson asked. “They’re armed to the teeth, aren’t they?”

  “That’s a whole different story.” Mary shrugged. “You’d need Vatican security clearance for me to talk about that.”

  “And people don’t believe in conspiracy theories…” Ferguson grinned.

  They lapsed into silence. After five minutes Ava stood up. “I’m going to check out what’s happening on the other side of the building. There’s something going on, and we need to know what it is.”

  “I’m coming.” Ferguson stood up beside her. “You stay on stag here,” he instructed Mary. “Text if anyone else comes up the path.”

  The area just below the plateau was covered in rocks, unkempt tufty grass, bushes, and trees. There was no path, and in places it was steep, but it afforded the best cover for circling the building.