by R D Shah
The elevator doors had closed to within a few inches when a hand thrust through the gap and grabbed Brulet by the hair. The doors then reopened to reveal the face of a vengeful-looking McCray, who heaved Brulet back out into the room and sending him flying to the floor. Harker instantly threw a punch which landed squarely on the assassin’s back, but it seemed to have little effect and the killer retaliated with a punch to Harker’s face that had him tumbling back against the elevator’s rear wall. Chloe also began landing blows, but she was easily fended off with a single jab to the stomach.
McCray now moved over towards Brulet, who by this time was back on his feet, and the two men confronted each other. Brulet’s initial expression was that of an angry glare, but in a single moment it morphed into one of calmness, as a large chunk of rock dropped off the wall behind him, sprinkling fragments all around them. The Grand Master glanced over at Harker, who was already picking himself up, and gave a meaningful nod of his head as McCray moved in closer, not in the least interested now in the elevator’s other two occupants. ‘You’re a good friend, Alex,’ Brulet yelled, ‘but I am afraid it is time for us to part ways.’
‘I’m not going to lose you, Sebastian.’ Harker yelled back, steadying himself as the elevator began to shake.
Brulet pulled a silver chain from around his neck and threw it past McCray into Harker’s waiting palm. ‘And you never will,’ he replied as McCray now raised his hands in front of him ready to fight. ‘Now, for the love of God, go.’
Harker could feel Chloe pulling at his waist, doing her utmost to restrain him, but there was no way he was abandoning the Templar down here. His muscles were already tensing in readiness to launch himself at McCray when another block of rock fell from the ceiling right in front of the elevator, forcing him back a step.
Beyond the rubble, it was now McCray who was doing the shouting. ‘All I have ever wanted to do was to face a Grand Master,’ he said before tossing over a silver handcuff key to Brulet who in turn swiftly unlocked the restraints and let them drop to the floor. ‘We don’t have long, so let’s see what you’ve got, Templar.’
As the doors began to close, the two men warily circled one another, and Harker watched with a bizarre sense of pride. He watched as the opponents squared up to each other, and then a confident smile appeared on Brulet’s face. The two men began moving towards each other even as the room continued to crumble around them… before the elevator doors closed for good.
Chapter 47
‘I said, get everyone back on the birds, now Captain!’ Colonel Rackman ordered firmly. ‘This whole area is going to give way.’
The young captain hesitated, continuing to stare intently at his superior with a look of respectful defiance. ‘Sir, we haven’t had time to search the area yet. There could still be people here.’
‘Maybe so, but we won’t be much use to them if the ground gives way under our feet, will we? I want everyone back in the air now … that’s an order.’
Without hesitation the British army captain offered a swift nod then hurried back towards the barn, issuing the fall-back orders into his shoulder radio. Within seconds a stream of uniformed soldiers appeared at the barn’s door and began quickly making their way back to the waiting helicopters.
‘Shit,’ Rackman muttered as yet another tremor rippled underfoot, causing the old barn to shift on its foundations sending out puffs of dust from its stressed joints and appearing to wheeze for its dying breaths. Where the hell were they? This rescue-and-recovery operation was turning into a search-and-destroy, and no one had even fired a shot!
Rackman waited for the last soldier to pass her before turning and following him onto the waiting helicopter still grounded. Meanwhile the other helicopters of the US, Russian and Chinese units were rising into the air and began to put some distance between themselves and the mountain.
‘Let’s go.’ Rackman ordered and she slid into the passenger seat, twirling a finger above her head.
The helicopter’s engine began to wail as the rotors speeded up, lifting them into the air. Rackman looked down as parts of the ground in front of the barn started to crack and heave, the undulations hitting the barn which shuddered with each successive wave. The building was already beginning to collapse, parts of the roof giving way and falling inside the building, when two figures raced out through the open doors and came to an abrupt halt as they were hit by another ripple of moving earth, throwing them over the crest and back down onto the ground. The man had already noticed the helicopter overhead and was waving frantically with one hand as he helped the woman to her feet.
‘Get us back down there,’ Rackman yelled, pointing to the two figures below.
The pilot began to descend as the two individuals began running forward, jumping across cracks in the earth that were widening with every passing second. The helicopter touched down with a bump and Colonel Rackman was already out and on the ground as in the distance, the barn completely fell apart, its struts giving way and the roof folding in on itself.
Rackman continued watching as the two figures ran closer, but another swelling of the earth rose up in-between so that for a moment they disappeared from view. As the rampart of earth subsided again, they both hurdled the crest to land safely on the other side and then continued sprinting frantically.
Rackman waited until her new passengers had entered the Chinook through the side door before herself jumping back inside. ‘Get us out of here,’ she yelled and, with a roar of the rotors, the helicopter was up in the air and heading away.
Now airborne, the colonel turned in her seat and stared back at the late arrivals standing next to the window and, surrounded by soldiers all relieved to off the ground. She reached over and offered her hand. ‘Professor Harker?’
Harker grasped the colonel’s hand and shook it gratefully. ‘Yes, and this is…’
‘Doctor Chloe Stanton,’ Rackman supplied offering a welcoming nod. ‘Yes I know.’
‘How did you find us?’ Harker asked.
‘Michael Shroder. Your friend is a resourceful man.’
‘That he is,’ Harker replied, ‘but how did he do it?’
‘There’ll be time for that later, Professor,’ Rackman declared firmly. ‘But I was told there would be three of you?’
The question drew an expression of regret from the both of them. ‘He didn’t make it.’
‘I am sorry,’ Rackman replied with a look of consolation, but not one to suggest she knew the significance of the man they had lost. ‘OK, we’re heading back to base.’
Harker and Chloe stared out at the scarred landscape below, just in time to see a bright flash illuminate the clouds with a yellowish hue before the entire area of ground collapsed in on itself in one violent spasm. Clouds of dust swirled into the air until only a black mass of debris was visible at its core, the remnants of the vast base now destroyed underneath.
‘He may have made it,’ Chloe yelled hopefully, struggling to be heard over the din of the helicopter’s engines.
This wishful thinking was lost on Harker as he watched even more earth collapsing in on itself. Sebastian Brulet was the man who had saved his life on more than one occasion, and had never asked for a single thing in return except Harker’s discretion in everything revealed to him about the shadowy world that the Templars and the Magi inhabited. The Grand Master of the Templars had now given his life to ensure both he and Chloe survived and, in a much more important way, the world at large. Harker found himself recalling to the last image he had of his friend facing up to McCray, and the smile he had worn. A smile not born out of courage or of confidence in facing his adversary but in knowing that Harker and Chloe would both escape, and more importantly that the world at large had been spared the nightmare conclusion of Wilcox’s insane plan.
This thought brought to his mind something that Harker had forgotten about during the confusion of their escape from the base and he now reached into his pocket and retrieved the object Brulet had thrown to him ju
st before the elevator doors closed. He raised his closed fist to his face, not wanting anyone else to see what it contained and then slowly released his fingers to reveal the metal object nestling in the palm of his hand. The silver medallion was worn and its once circular edges were dented with abrasions as a result of its age, but Harker recognised it immediately. There was an image carved into the surface and, even though he knew what would be on the other side, he took his time in slowly turning it over to view the second engraved image. On one side appeared the familiar image of two medieval knights riding on the same horse with the words ‘SIGILLUM MILITUM’ stamped around the edges, while on the reverse side the words ‘CHRISTI DE TEMPLO’ encircled the image of a temple.
‘Seal of the soldiers of Christ and the Temple,’ Harker muttered to himself and for some reason the very saying of those words added a sudden emotional connection to the seal resting in his palm. Those two riders on the horse were the unmistakable emblem of the Order of the Knights Templar, but the image of the temple was less familiar. It depicted the Church of the Holy Sepulchre located in Jerusalem and it was said by many to be the final resting place of Jesus Christ himself, as well as of his crucifixion and resurrection. To Harker it was a case of take your pick. What was fact, though, was that the same emblem had been originally carried by the first Grand Master of the Templars Hughes de Payens, but only copies of the fabled item had ever been discovered and presumably the original artefact had been lost somewhere in the mists of history… until now. With no other way of passing this symbolic artefact on to his natural successor, Brulet had entrusted it to Harker. But not so much because he deserved the honour, as much as Harker would have liked to believe, but rather because down below amongst the tumbling rock and the certainty of his death, who else was he going to pass it on to?
Harker slipped the emblem back into his coat pocket as the helicopter raced onwards, and an optimism raised his spirits confident in the knowledge that Brulet’s last unspoken request would be fulfilled.
It was Chloe, huddling next to him, who awoke him from these thoughts. ‘You once told me how Sebastian always managed to defy the odds,’ she suggested consolingly. ‘You claimed he had nine lives like a cat.’
‘Yes, I did,’ he replied, as the sense of loss he had felt moments earlier returned to him, and he continued to stare out at the dark billowing dust clouds now in the distance. ‘But I think he just used up his last one.’
Chapter 48
The flames of blue-tinted torches flickered in the evening air, lighting up the narrow path on which a modest procession of people slowly made their way towards Kirkliston parish church. The mood was sombre but not sad, and each of the arriving guests was met by a well-dressed man in a smart Yves Saint Laurent black suit, white shirt and thin black tie. He accepted each of the guest’s small white invitation cards with a gracious nod, before quietly reading out their names, and then allowing them inside the small stone chapel encircled by its own cemetery, containing a number of weathered headstones arranged in rows. Built in the heart of the village of Kirkliston, and about ten miles from Edinburgh, the twelfth-century parish church sat atop an ancient burial ground, with its elevation allowing a view of the small village surrounding it. The light was fading as the dusk drew in, but the outlines of surrounding buildings were still visible and provided a pleasant, calming atmosphere to the solemn event taking place inside. It was a sight that the latest guests to arrive were taking in as they reached the greeter and handed him their invitations.
‘Professor Harker and Doctor Stanton,’ he announced and passed the cards back to them. ‘You are most welcome. Please enter and be seated.’
Harker gave a respectful nod and politely waited for Chloe to head inside first.
The interior of the church was modest but impressive in its own right. A small flight of steps led up to a stone pulpit, and behind this a large organ sprouted darkened metal pipes leading up towards the ceiling, providing a striking addition to the small building. The most remarkable feature, though, was an additional gallery raised up above the rows of pews on the ground floor, giving the feeling of an old courthouse minus the dock and officials, of course.
‘May I see your invitations, please?’ asked a man identically dressed to the one outside.
‘Of course,’ Harker replied passing them over.
The man studied the invitations for a moment before pointing them in the direction of an empty pew about five rows back from the front. ‘Just over there. The service will begin shortly.’
‘Thank you,’ Harker replied. He and Chloe made their way down the aisle and took their seats as more guests arrived.
‘This place is very small,’ Chloe whispered quietly into Harker’s ear.
‘Yes, it is,’ Harker said, ‘does that worry you?’
‘Not at all. It’s lovely. I just expected something more grandiose for the funeral of a Grand Master of the Knights Templars.’
‘Quiet, inconspicuous and off the radar… sounds just like the Templars to me,’ he declared. ‘Besides we’re only ten miles from Rosslyn chapel, which is something of a centrepiece in Templar lore. This whole area was overseen by the Templars when they first came to Scotland, so it fits with tradition. Anyway, surely a smaller venue makes it harder for the Magi to discover.’
This mention of the Magi made Chloe take a deep breath, then she shook her head. ‘If there even are any Magi left… It’s been quite a trip, Professor. Death, mayhem and destruction, you really know how to show a girl a good time.’
Her playful remark made Harker smile. ‘Well, that’s the problem you face when you invite yourself to someone else’s party. You never know what reception you’re going to get.’
They both fell silent as an elderly couple sat down in the pew behind them, giving Harker an opportunity to settle back and reminisce about the events that had led to this night. It had been quite a trip all right, and the past few weeks since the destruction of the Magi’s base had proved just as eventful.
Both he and Chloe had first been transported to a US aircraft carrier, the Ronald Reagan, which was anchored just off the shores of Caracas, and this served as a forward base for the joint British and US helicopter party that had them picked them up. They had spent six hours holed up in one of the cabins under armed guard, and with only a tatty-looking chessboard to occupy them. Ten games later, most of them lost to Chloe much to the detriment of Harker’s ego, they had been met by an American who simply described himself as a member of the security services. Without discussion they’d been placed on a twin-engine Grumman C-2 Greyhound and flown directly back to the United Kingdom, where they had been greeted by two men offering MI6 credentials. Blindfolded and handcuffed, they were then driven to a warehouse somewhere in London, and been ‘requested’ to sign forms which guaranteed their silence under the Official Secrets Act. Without further ado, both he and Chloe had then been blindfolded again and dumped in the middle of Camden Town, right in front of the Dublin Castle pub. And that, as baffling as it seemed, was that. No interrogation, no threats – not even a goodbye. They had simply been dropped back into the ordinary world once more along with everyone else amid the chaos of destruction Wilcox had left in his wake.
They had spent an hour or so in the pub casually drinking and discussing the whirlwind that was their past few days, whilst all the while looking over their shoulders for any suspicious-looking characters who might be keeping an eye on them. Shortly afterwards Chloe had headed back to try and salvage her job at Blackwater, who strangely welcomed her back with open arms, and Harker resumed his teaching position at Cambridge University. Upon arrival he was nagged incessantly by Dean Lercher about his whereabouts during the crisis, and Harker stuck to the story that he had been caught up in the chaos of world events just like everyone else. Reluctantly the Dean had finally let the subject go and besides he had plenty to deal with. Although Cambridge had been largely unaffected by the pandemonium created by HAARP, many of its students had ties to place
s that were, and the University had been closed down until communications such as phone lines and the TV networks could be restored.
The one bright light amidst the gloom had been the funeral of Pope Gregory XVII – or Salvatore Vincenzo to his friends – who was already being considered for canonisation, a process usually taking far, far longer than just a few weeks after death. What was really unexpected, though, was how all places of worship of all religions, every faith and creed, had seen a huge rise in attendance and thus defying Wilcox’s hopes for a dark future. Would it last? Probably not, but the sense of world community had never been stronger and almost all governments had made an unprecedented show of unity and solidarity, by working with each other much more closely than in the past. Would it last? Again probably not but it did offer hope to the masses, and a world without hope, as Wilcox had claimed fervently, was a world not worth living in. Harker found it odd to think that the very actions the Magi had hoped would destroy humanity were in fact bringing it closer together and that, in a world where so much devastation had taken place, there was something positive to be gained from the nightmare that had been the three Secrets of Fatima.
Martial law had now ceased to be enforced, even if the army was still a visible presence on the streets, although it was now mainly involved in clean-up jobs and in helping to rebuild the worst affected areas of the country, including the remains of what was once Westminster Abbey. Speculation had run rife throughout the newspapers and TV networks after they came back online, posting everything from a mass solar event to global warming as the cause for such destruction, but it wasn’t until a story broke in the Sunday Times that things began to become interesting. A journalist had been sent a package containing documents relating to HAARP and its various facilities around the globe. This had also been accompanied by a letter stating that the technology involved was of such importance that everyone should henceforth be aware of its existence, for to keep such devices secret could have dire consequences for the whole planet. The letter had been printed in its entirety, but it was not so much the contents that caught Harker’s interest but rather the initials of the sender, which appeared at the end: S.B.