The Dark Temple

by The Dark Temple (retail) (epub)

  ‘Never!’ Lombardi hurried over to within a foot of him, shaking his head furiously. ‘How could you even think that?’

  ‘I’m not saying I do, Marco, but if he does… Well, you know what lies at the end of that road, don’t you?’

  Lombardi sucked in a long breath before clearing his throat and attempting to reclaim his composure. ‘I’m sorry. I meant nothing by it but dutiful concern. I just think that boy could have been a great asset to us in years to come. So who carried it out?’

  ‘The Red Death,’ Donitz replied coldly. ‘She’s now in charge of this project of ours, unless he sees fit to alter that.’

  Lombardi said nothing and simply offered a solemn nod as Donitz tore himself away from the beautiful view outside the window and retrieved his black Armani jacket from the back of the chair.

  ‘He’s called a meeting in the pit – for all of us.’ He slipped the jacket on.

  ‘What for?’ Lombardi asked, looking highly suspicious.

  ‘I presume he wants to update us on how his grand plan is progressing.’

  Lombardi thought about this reply for a second and then, with his teeth clenched, he softly grasped Donitz’s forearm. ‘I’m now having doubts about this and can’t help but wonder if this is the right course of action. If it doesn’t result in the right outcome, years of work could be wiped out in the blink of an eye. No one has any idea we even exist and, until the time is right, it needs to stay that way.’

  Donitz looked openly shocked at his associate’s admission. He wrenched his arm away quickly and stuck a thick finger in Lombardi’s face. ‘You’re beginning to worry me, Marco,’ he said indignantly. ‘The things we’ve already done! It’s too late for second thoughts.’ Donitz then dropped his finger and headed over to the office door. ‘You have to ask yourself, Marco,’ he continued, turning back momentarily with one hand resting on the door handle, ‘what scares you more? That this “endeavour” fails… or that you fail him?’

  Chapter 11

  Harker made his way up the last flight of stone steps to the plateau on which the Parthenon sat and turned to take in the view. It was already well past midnight but, given all the lights glittering across Athens, it could have been mistaken for a city just gearing up for the evening’s activities rather than bedtime. His jet had landed at Athens International Airport and, after a surprisingly brief trip into the city he had made his way up to the rocky outcrop of the Acropolis which rose in the very centre of the capital and offered a glorious sight of the sprawling cityscape below. Stefani had originally planned their encounter at the Acropolis Museum, just a stone’s throw away, but had subsequently sent a text changing it. And, although she had not offered any reason, Harker was glad she had done so. He rarely visited this famed city and certainly not at this time of night, when access to the Acropolis was denied to the general public. Clearly Stefani had some pull with the authorities and, as he leant back against one of the towering columns of the mighty temple, he allowed himself to relax and just enjoy the experience.

  Originally built as a shrine for the Greek goddess Athena and completed in 432BC, the Parthenon was considered a wonder of the ancient world and even today it stood as a symbol for the birthplace of Western democracy and civilisation. The roof may have fallen in long ago and the only remaining structures to survive over two thousand years were its impressive pillars, surrounding the original temple. As Harker gazed down across the ancient city, he could imagine how impressive the edifice must have looked back in its heyday. High above the city, like a beacon of human triumph the sight must have elicited in its citizens the same feelings of marvel and awe that the pyramids of Giza aroused amongst ancient Egyptians.

  ‘That view never gets old, does it?’ a voice spoke up from behind him and Harker turned to see Stefani leaning against the next pillar along.

  ‘How could it?’ he replied, slowly making his way over to her. ‘Especially at this time of night.’

  Stefani gave an approving smile. ‘Being a Templar definitely has its perks. Especially when it comes to gaining access.’

  Harker considered offering her a handshake but thought better of it as the young female Templar remained propped against the pillar with both hands firmly in her pockets.

  ‘I lived here in Athens for a couple of years when I was younger,’ she said, continuing to enjoy the view. ‘It’s funny but you’d be astonished at how many people actually born here have never bothered to make the short trip up to where we’re standing.’

  ‘It’s always the way when you live in a city of historical wonders,’ Harker replied. ‘For tourists they are the attractions not to miss, but to the citizens living and working there they simply provide a stunning backdrop. I lived in London for years and in all that time I never once made a trip to see Buckingham Palace or Big Ben. They seemed just part of the landscape.’

  Stefani continued smiling and then pulled herself away from viewing the stunning panorama and gave Harker her full attention. ‘I know we were originally going to meet at the museum, but Mr Anastas – the curator – got caught up, so I thought why not enjoy the sights while we wait for him.’

  ‘No complaints here,’ Harker replied, beginning to register how distant and preoccupied she looked. ‘Apart from the obvious, are you OK?’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said firmly, a sense of purpose returning to her. ‘But after we spoke, I delved a bit deeper into my father’s past on the flight over and found out some things that were… troubling.’

  ‘Well they can’t be any more troubling than what I experienced in Rome. I got married, for God’s sake. Try me.’

  Stefani hesitated for a moment and then finally pulled her hands out of her pockets and rubbed them together apprehensively. ‘After you questioned my father’s position within the Church, I called a friend at the Vatican. I wasn’t looking for anything nefarious, just to discover if he was given any new roles, or maybe even a change of parish – anything really.’

  ‘What did they say?’

  ‘They told me he hasn’t been an officiating priest for over three years!’

  This news came as a shock and Harker winced in confusion. ‘How’s that even possible? Wouldn’t the Templars have realised?’

  Stefani was already nodding. ‘Yes, we would have known, which is why it makes even less sense, but apparently he handed in his collar, despite much pressure from the Church to try and convince him to change his mind.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘My contact was a bit cagey but his official reason for leaving was due to a crisis in his faith and because he had fallen in love.’

  ‘With who?’ Harker asked astonished, thinking the man had been pretty long in the tooth to allow such notions to overcome a lifelong belief.

  ‘I don’t know,’ she replied and with a frustrated sigh, ‘but obviously he did.’

  The idea that Father Davies – or rather Mr Davies as of now – would not have told his own daughter seemed perplexing to Harker. Perhaps he felt ashamed of something, like his disgusting hobby of dead animal posing discovered back at his apartment, but Harker could see the young Templar woman was still reeling from their news, and so he decided to tread carefully with his next question. ‘You had no idea – not even an inkling?’

  ‘No, nothing. I mean, over the past few years I had not seen him as much as I would have liked to, given all the troubles the Templars have experienced recently but I still visited him a couple of times a year including monthly phone calls, and he never mentioned a thing.’

  Part of what Harker was now being told actually came as a relief because, after the unpleasant scene her father had left behind in his own apartment, it meant at least there was now no direct embarrassment to the Church. But that the Templars themselves had no idea meant only one of two things. Either they’d had the wool pulled over their eyes, or more worrying still, someone within the organisation had in fact known and deliberately covered it up. It was a disturbing thought and even though Harker had complete f
aith in Brulet, and those that guided the Templars, what if there was someone working on the inside and more importantly – why?

  He cast the unsettling question to one side, for the moment, and now turned his attention to the reason they were here. ‘Did you mention any of this to the curator we’re going to meet – this Mr Anastas?’

  ‘No, I only confirmed that he once knew my father, and that I needed to meet with him as soon as possible. I wanted to gauge his reaction face to face concerning everything else.’

  ‘That’s smart… makes sense,’ Harker replied. ‘So how did you persuade him to meet us so late at night, and at the museum, which I know is always closed at this time?’

  Stefani’s worried expression evaporated and she glared at him amusingly. ‘That bit was easy,’ she replied and then checked her watch, ‘why don’t we stroll down there now? He should be arriving soon.’

  Without actually answering his question, Stefani turned and headed for the winding path leading down to the Acropolis Museum below.

  ‘Well?’ Harker called after her, and then quickly caught up. ‘Why exactly was it so easy?’

  She continued to smile. ‘Oh, once you meet him, you’ll understand.’

  Chapter 12

  ‘Professor Alex Harker in the flesh, as I live and breathe. I cannot tell you what an honour this is.’

  Adonis Anastas skipped merrily towards Harker and excitedly flung his thick hairy arms around him before administering a powerful hug. ‘What an absolute treat it is to meet you. A real treat!’

  He was a bear of a man standing at least six-foot-tall and with the chubby, yet solid, frame of a wrestler from the 1980s. With wavy black hair gathered in a ponytail, wearing brown slacks and a red striped shirt with sleeves rolled up to his beefy elbows, the man would have been a daunting sight if not for his friendly manner. The latter was something that to Harker was actually more unsettling than the man’s size.

  ‘I want to say it’s a pleasure to meet you but… have we already met?’ Harker asked, as Anastas released his lung-crushing hug.

  ‘Not until now but I have been following your career closely these past few years, and the discoveries you have made during that time have been marvellous. You are truly a credit to us all.’

  Since joining up with the Templars and thus gaining access to all their artefacts, hidden away and protected in its various vaults around the world, Harker had indeed ‘discovered’ many lost historical treasures including the gold death mask of Julius Caesar. Initially he’d felt a bit of a con-merchant because his only real triumph had been in convincing Sebastian Brulet to let him bring these artefacts out into the light of day, but on reflection his view had somewhat changed. Firstly, there was no way he could ever reveal how these items had ended up in his possession, because he could never betray the oath he had taken as a Templar and, secondly, without him the world would not have ever got to know about them. After some reflection he concluded it was nothing more than a necessary white lie which allowed everyone to now enjoy these previously hidden artefacts, so he felt justified in doing so. Besides, he was committed to keeping his most interesting discovery ever being revealed to the public – and that was the continuing existence of the Templar Order itself.

  ‘And, Miss Mitchell, it is so good to finally meet you too.’ Mr Anastas exchanged the constricting hug that Harker had received for a polite and gentle kiss on the back of her hand. ‘I hope your father is well?’

  With the police thus far holding back the details of the exorcism, it was no surprise that Mr Anastas had no knowledge of Stefani’s father now being deceased, but still she froze slightly before smiling back at him.

  ‘Thank you for asking,’ she replied, while not responding to his question. However the polite brush-off was completely missed by Anastas who now turned his attention back to Harker as he thrust out his arm towards the building’s entrance.

  ‘Welcome to my museum,’ he said proudly with eyes full of enthusiasm. ‘Please come inside.’

  With Stefani arching her eyebrows comically at Harker due to their host’s obvious excitement, the three of them headed inside to find an impressive interior with the lighting already turned on.

  With a total square footage of fourteen thousand square feet, the edifice was less museum and more of a tribute to the Acropolis of Athens itself. Containing over four thousand objects of historical significance, displayed over four floors, the foundations had been laid directly on top of Roman and Byzantine ruins. The museum was constructed on thick white stone pillars that acted as stilts laid carefully in between the ancient ruins. Outside the front entrance an enormous opening had been cut into the walkway itself, allowing visitors to lean over the plate-glass railings and wonder at the exposed remains of an ancient city that, although long forgotten by time, was today flaunted proudly by modern Greeks as a link to their distant past that should never again be lost.

  The debris of crumbling walls was also a major feature and, leading up to the ground-floor gallery, the glass panelled flooring allowed visitors to see the whole extent of the ancient ruins as they proceeded.

  ‘This place always reminds me of an airport terminal,’ Stefani remarked in a whisper as they made their way across the gallery floor towards the main steps.

  Harker shot her an unamused look. ‘Philistine.’ he replied quietly, so the excited Mr Anastas could not hear. The museum, to his mind, was one of the most beautifully simplistic showcases in the world, and designed to be just that. There were no hedonistic statues placed outside, bearing down on every visitor as they entered, but instead the basic rectangular-shaped building represented that perfection of angles ancient Greece was known for. The arrangement of exhibits inside was simple by design and deliberately intended to focus the attention of the millions of tourists arriving every year onto the wonderful collection of objects themselves. If anyone wanted to be bowled over in awe by some gigantic man-made structure then all he had to do was check out the towering Acropolis itself.

  ‘My office is on the first floor,’ Anastas explained, now sounding coolly professional, ‘but I would love to give you a tour of the museum before we get down to business.’

  ‘I’m afraid not, Adonis,’ Stefani replied politely, ‘as we’re on an extremely tight schedule.’

  Anastas came to an abrupt halt at the top of the stairs and turned to face them with a wholeheartedly disappointed look.

  Harker felt obliged to step in. ‘But if you’re willing to give me the full tour at another time, I’d be honoured.’ This suggestion perked the curator up instantly. ‘I’ve been here before and my favourite area is without doubt the glass gallery of the Parthenon on the third floor. The frieze encircling the inner walls is exquisite.’

  Anastas was now beaming at Harker’s knowledge of the museum and he began to nod ecstatically. ‘The honour would be mine, Professor.’

  ‘Please, Adonis, call me Alex.’

  The pleasantry worked a charm and Anastas was now gesturing them up towards a side door with a black sign reading ‘Offices’ in white lettering. ‘Come inside.’ With that he swung the door open and ushered them both through.

  It was a thoroughly modern workspace with new grey carpeting and white walls adorned with photographs of the museum’s exterior on one side, while on the other several large windows allowed a view of the illuminated Acropolis set high above them on the plateau.

  ‘What a view,’ Harker remarked, taking this opportunity to enjoy the vista, though Stefani appeared far more interested in an expensive-looking glossy, wooden work desk supporting a transparent Perspex display case holding a gold-leaf laurel with a red sticky label on it reading ‘restoration’.

  ‘It’s good to see the EU spending their budget wisely for a change,’ she chuckled.

  ‘Isn’t it?’ Anastas replied. ‘For how can you expect to build a new future in Europe if you don’t protect the past… In fact, Alex,’ he strode over to the display cabinet, ‘allow me to show you this as I think you
’ll appreciate it.’

  Now curious, Harker joined him as Anastas donned a pair of purple velvet gloves that had been lying on the desk top before gently opening the display case and tenderly retrieving the gold-leaf laurel in his careful grip.

  ‘This was discovered only very recently and although it’s not been confirmed, and maybe never will be, we believe this laurel crown to be of Roman origin. Whoever it was made for, judging by the quality of gold used, and the impressive craftsmanship, he was a highly important figure within the hierarchy of Rome.’

  Anastas seemed to be glowing with pride over the item, and he then raised it up and gently laid it on top of Harker’s head. ‘Just think, Alex,’ he continued excitedly while keeping both hands hovering around the gold wreath protectively, ‘this could have been worn by Augustus Caesar himself.’

  The man’s enthusiasm was infectious and Harker could not stop an excited smile crossing his lips. It was exactly this kind of moment that had made him fall in love with archaeology and to become someone who felt exactly the same way as Anastas clearly did. ‘A real treat.’

  ‘I pronounce you King Alex Harker, servant of the heavens and he who rules it.’ Anastas declared with all the giddy silliness of a child, and Harker glanced over at Stefani who played along, by offering him a mildly condescending bow.

  ‘I appreciate the generosity of your time, Adonis, but we really are on a tight schedule,’ she chided. ‘Perhaps you two boys can continue this during your next visit?’

  Harker’s smile disappeared and now both men looked a tad embarrassed. Anastas swiftly took the wreath back into his velvet-gloved hands and placed it securely back in its display.