Henri offered another nod as the others followed suit.
‘Then why didn’t he tell anyone what the entire Prophecy revealed?’
If Henri was rattled by this inconsistency, he didn’t show it and he smiled sadly. ‘Because he was murdered the very same day he set up the Order, and before he could tell anyone. All the Order had to go on was the candle you’ve just touched, their own disturbing visions, and partial knowledge of the prophecy itself… We have therefore only half of the knowledge needed to stop the disastrous events soon to befall this world.’ A look of hardened determination formed on his face. ‘We need you to get hold of the Prophecy held inside the Vatican’s secret archives, because without it we are lost.’
‘And we need the second blessed candle you have in your possession as well,’ Marceau added.
At this request Harker expelled a loud sigh before he laughed out loud, this exacerbating the pain in his head. ‘Why on earth do you think I can get hold of the Prophecy? You said it yourself, the archives are one of the most secure places on the planet.’
Henri looked undeterred by his incredulous response. ‘Because we know who you are, Alex. We know you yourself are member of an Order, one that has impressive ties to the Vatican.’
Even though he had not mentioned the Templars by name, he evidently did know something, and Harker now remained silent as the older man persisted with his pitch.
‘I won’t lie to you because we are short on time; any mistrust generated at this point will not benefit either of us. We don’t know who or what your Order actually is but we have reliable sources confirming that they are a powerful group with many connections. We have our own higher-up contacts as well, you know.’
They were clearly plucking at straws and Harker knew it but, with what he had just seen and everything else that had happened in the last few days, he decided there and then it was in everyone’s best interests to dig a little deeper, so long as the anonymity of the Templars was preserved. ‘I may have some contacts at the Vatican that could help but it’s not that difficult to gain access these days. Why haven’t you tried before? Researchers, scholars, they can usually get in by making a simple request.’
‘It’s not the regular archive we need to get in to,’ Henri explained, getting a confused look from Harker because, as far as he knew, the secret archive was the only one at the Vatican.
‘Not sure I know what you’re getting at, Henri,’ he said, and it was now Pierre who took over.
‘There’s a section of the archive that has never been acknowledged: a place that stores only the most sensitive pieces of Catholic doctrine or artefacts. That’s where the Darkness Prophecy is stored, and it was to there that Father Davies gained access.’
Harker was stunned by the disclosure. ‘If there is one, I haven’t heard about it and, anyway, what could be more secure than the archives themselves? Why would you need a vault within a vault?’
‘Because there are things that even the head of Christendom would not want even his most loyal devotees to see. Perhaps the type of thing that might lead to a complete loss of faith in the Church, just as Father Davies suddenly lost his.’
Even though to Harker this had ‘conspiracy theory’ blazed across it in red neon lights he couldn’t deny that something supremely weird was going on. And given his recent ‘vision’, he had a distinct feeling there was a lot of truth in what he was now being told. How much, though, was anyone’s guess. ‘What are you asking me to do, exactly?’
Henri paused, stroking his beard, and then gazed towards him grimly. ‘We want you to break into the archives and steal the Darkness Prophecy.’
Chapter 20
Bishop Leonardo Grochea sat patiently in the waiting room situated on the top floor of the palace of the Holy Office, tapping his fingers rhythmically on the varnished surface of the desk next to him. Located at the southern boundary of Vatican City, the building housed the Curia Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. Considered by many as the guard dog of Christianity, Grochea had always considered himself immensely fortunate to work in such an important division of the Church, but this was the first time he had felt so concerned about their role.
This modest building held vast swathes of Catholic history within its walls and although working here by day, he felt ever more like a stranger as he tussled with the difficult issues which had brought him to the Prefect Archbishop’s office in the first place. With the news of Father Davies’s unspeakable actions plastered across the morning’s papers, he could only guess where it would all lead in the minds of the public. Father Davies had been a respected colleague for some years before his abdication from the clergy and, even though Grochea had not been very close to the man, his departure seemed a loss felt by all. That failure, however, was nothing but a minuscule blip in comparison to the ex-priest’s brutal murder of a woman and her teenage son. Never in Grochea’s lifetime had a man of the Church committed such a terrible crime as these murders and subsequent desecration of the bodies, and it still made him sick to his stomach. Even those who had known Father Davies only from a distance were shocked that such a mild-mannered man could turn into little more than a vicious beast.
As for the exorcism and possession elements of the incident, well, that was what Grochea was here for and he only hoped the archbishop shared his concerns and therefore agreed with the solutions he was about to offer. Coupled with the horrendous and senseless killing of three local bishops and their congregations the day before, it had produced a dark cloud of despair hanging over all those who worked at the Vatican, as well as in the wider community beyond. These were dark days indeed.
At the end of the room two white double doors opened inwards and Archbishop Angelo Federar strode through and made his way over to the waiting bishop, who rose swiftly to his feet and met him halfway.
‘I apologise for your long wait, Leonardo, but I suppose you’ve seen the morning papers?’
‘I have. It’s been an awful shock,’ the bishop replied, sounding genuinely subdued by the news. ‘And that’s the reason I’m here.’
Federar looked immediately troubled, a frown appearing on his brow. ‘You’d better come in then.’
With a nod from Grochea, the two men walked briskly over into the archbishop’s office, with Federar closing the doors gently behind them.
‘Please, have a seat,’ Federar insisted and dutifully Grochea sat down on a red satin court chair as the archbishop made his way back around to the other side of his desk. This room was not as lavish as some other offices in the Vatican but its shiny wood panelled-doors and the classic grey plaster provided a humble décor that suited the archbishop’s personality to a T.
Federar sat himself down in the green leather armchair positioned behind the desk, below a picture of the current pope, sitting back into it comfortably and placing his hands in his lap. ‘So what can I do for you, Leonardo, on a day of such awful news?’
Grochea squirmed a little in his seat, not because it was uncomfortable but because what he was about to say was unlikely to receive a warm reception. ‘I know your recent feelings on the subject but, given what has just happened, I need to ask if you would reconsider your decision to keep the Prophecy strictly off limits.’
Federar looked unimpressed and his mouth curved downwards like a bulldog’s. ‘And which Prophecy would that be?’
The archbishop’s spurious attempt to play dumb only emboldened Grochea’s resolve, and he sat right up in his chair defiantly. ‘Did you read what Father Davies wrote on the wall in the blood of the woman and child he butchered?’
Federar’s expression changed not one iota but his nostrils did inflame somewhat, which was a tell-tale-sign for those who knew him that he was either unimpressed or annoyed. ‘I did read the report but hardly think it has any tangible bearing on what we’re discussing here.’
‘No tangible bearing!’ Grochea exclaimed, raising his eyebrow. ‘I admit I’ve not read it myself but I have it on good authority that
those are the exact words used in the Prophecy, are they not?’
Archbishop Federar opened his mouth in surprise and he began to slowly bob his head. ‘Oh, you mean the three days of Darkness Prophecy?’
‘Yes, that one,’ Grochea replied, giving him an unimpressed stare.
‘I’m not sure how or what you’ve heard, Leonardo, but, that aside, I don’t think it really qualifies as being relevant – besides which it isn’t even recognised officially by the Holy See.’
‘Right, Angelo, and that’s why it’s hidden away so securely?’
Federar’s nostrils flared again, but after a few moments his shoulders sagged and he slumped forward and ditched his formal demeanour. ‘Few people in this office have ever seen that scrap of paper…’
‘Father Davies did, though,’ Grochea interrupted, doubling down against the archbishop’s intransigence on the subject.
‘That’s my point, Leonardo. The poor man lost his mind and reverted to writing about the very thing that consumed him… Tragic? Absolutely, but to think it in some way gives credence to justifying any aspect of that prophecy is just lazy thinking. And that aside, you – or anyone else – should not even be aware of what it says.’
‘That’s immaterial now,’ Grochea replied, looking undeterred as he remained sitting stiffly in his chair. ‘And maybe you’re right. But if there is even a sliver of truth in it, then it is in everyone’s interests to at least allow others to conduct a proper examination of the document.’
Federar looked like a man who had just been battered over the head with a truth he was not quite ready to accept yet and, although he said nothing, he now looked po-faced and his nostrils went into overdrive.
‘I understand why it’s been kept hidden all these years,’ Grochea continued sympathetically, deliberately adopting a yielding tone of voice, ‘but should both of us choose to stick our heads in the sand when so much is at stake? Would you, at the very least, allow me access to it, or at the very most speak with his Holiness on the matter?’
Federar considered this proposal and then, after a few thoughtful moments, his expression began to soften and he sat back again in his chair. ‘Very well, Leonardo, I will speak with the pontiff this evening.’
Grochea was already out of his own seat and resting both hands on the archbishop’s grand cherry-wood desk. ‘Thank you. It’s all I ask.’
Federar offered him an obliging nod, then he wiped his open palm down one side of his face, the frustration he felt obvious. ‘Anything else?’
‘No, thank you. Now, if you will excuse me, I have things to attend to.
‘Of course,’ Federar said, in truth just wanting this man to leave his office. ‘And please refrain from discussing this business with anyone else – for the time being.’
‘I will, Angelo. I know how difficult this is for you,’ Grochea replied, with a complete understanding of the bind the archbishop was in. ‘It will probably amount to nothing.’
That comment had Federar suddenly looking nervous. ‘I hope so, Leonardo, because if you’re wrong… then God help us all.’
Chapter 21
‘Burgle the Vatican’s secret archive? Are you crazy!’
Stefani’s voice was so loud that Harker had to pull the phone away from his ear, and even Marceau jerked his head back as they continued to walk briskly down New York Avenue on their way towards his apartment.
‘No one’s going to burgle anything,’ Harker assured her, placing his hand over the receiver for fear that people passing by would hear the suggestion. ‘I have a friend over at the Vatican who might be able to help.’
‘I thought your friends over that neck of the woods were few and far between these days,’ she replied, still sounding more than doubtful.’
‘I still have some but whether they’ll be sympathetic is another thing entirely. All the same I have to try.’
There was a brief silence, then Harker could have sworn he heard a deep sigh from the other end of the line.
‘And you’re absolutely sure this vision of yours was real?’
‘As sure as I am talking to you now, Stefani,’ he replied resolutely, even though he knew how irrational it all sounded. ‘Something very real is going on here and it all seems to revolve around the Vatican archives.’
There was yet another pause until she came back on the line, but this time sounding more confident of his plan. ‘Very well, Alex, it’s your call. I’ll take a flight to Rome asap, and meet you there.’
‘Thank you.’ He took some comfort in her willingness to believe him, ‘Do you still have the stone?’
‘I have someone looking at your “blessed candle” right now. He’s tried shining a light through it, but there’s no message such as the one you described.’
‘OK. It was worth a try,’ Harker said, disappointed by her answer. ‘In the meantime I’m going to call Sebastian and get his approval.’
‘No, I’ll call him. It would be better coming from me.’
‘Fair enough,’ Harker replied, quite glad that he would not have to mention his supernatural vision to the Grand Master, because even he himself was having a hard time accepting what he had seen. The experience could only be described as paranormal, and that was something he felt personally uncomfortable with. ‘Dr Marceau wants to pick up a few things from his apartment and then we’ll head straight for the airport.’
‘Is it wise to bring him along, Alex? We don’t really know anything about him.’
Harker glanced over at Marceau, who was clearly attempting to hear the discussion, his eyes screwed up in concentration. ‘I know enough and, besides, even though his friends are at a loss, they seem to know far more of what’s going on than we do.’
‘Your choice,’ she said, sounding unconvinced. ‘I’ll see you at the Vatican. Have a safe trip.’
The line abruptly went dead and Harker slipped the phone back into his inside jacket pocket. ‘She’ll meet us there,’ he announced.
‘Good, good,’ Marceau said enthusiastically, as they approached his apartment door, ‘The more the merrier – and the sooner we get to Rome the better.’
They had left soon after Henri had dropped the bombshell regarding the Prophecy’s location, along with explicit instructions that they keep the Order updated as to what progress they were making. Harker had been wary of the suggestion he bring Dr Marceau along with him but, given what he had witnessed after touching the blessed candle, he figured he now needed all the help he could get. The vision had truly affected his whole being, like one would react after some serious event when you replay the shocking incident over and over in your head, scavenging through every detail. That experience was like nothing he had ever known and had he not seen it with his own eyes, he would have thought it as crazy as Marceau’s own account of dimension-jumping beings opening portals in space. Indeed it still sounded barmy to Harker but, given his recent personal encounter with a ten-foot-tall behemoth running rampant through the streets of Cambridge, he found himself far more open now to other possibilities, no matter how wacky.
‘Should only take me a few minutes to get some provisions,’ Marceau advised as he opened the front door and began climbing the stairs to his apartment, ‘and most importantly of course, my passport.’
‘Passport! We’re only going to Rome,’ Harker declared sounding irritated at this time-wasting.
‘Now, now, Professor. You never know where we’ll end up and being unprepared is the sign of an unworthy soul.’
Harker didn’t even bother with a reply. Since leaving the Order’s secret hideaway, Marceau had become increasingly excited at the prospect of actually seeing the Prophecy document in the flesh, and Harker wondered how long the man had waited for this moment. ‘How long have you actually belonged to the Order of Tharmis?’
‘Not until quite recently,’ Marceau replied as they reached his floor and pulled out his key to unlock the apartment door. ‘Father Davies inducted me less than a month ago but, as you can see, it’s bee
n something of a rapid education since then.’
Suddenly the Doctor’s differing interpretation of the prophecy began to make more sense. ‘So that’s why your analysis of the candles differs so much,’ Harker suggested as the doctor took off through the living room and in to his bedroom.
‘It’s all a question of how you determine the truth, Professor,’ Marceau replied, as Harker turned to the window and took in a breathtaking view of the Eiffel Tower just across the river. ‘Henri and his lot were taught their belief, but I had to discover the truth for myself… with a lot of help from Father Davies, of course.’
‘How much help?’
‘Pretty much all of it.’
This reply set off alarm bells and Harker pulled away from the beautiful view and turned his attention to the empty doorway of the room Marceau had disappeared into. ‘That African tribe you mentioned earlier, where you found the second blessed candle… you didn’t make that trip there yourself, did you?’
There was no response, and then a sheepish-looking Dr Marceau poked his head around the doorway. ‘Not exactly.’
‘How, not exactly?’ Harker quizzed, sensing that an omission was about to be forthcoming.
‘I did accompany Father Davies on one of his trips to the Congo – to do some aid work – but he made his remarkable discovery during a solo trip.’
Harker’s look of suspicion had Marceau gingerly making his way into full view, until he stopped a few feet outside the doorway. ‘After Father Davies saw the Prophecy for himself, and the Order made contact with him, he brought me up to speed and so I fibbed a little so I would be accepted by them.’
‘Why?’ Harker asked, somewhat bemused.
‘Because he didn’t know who the Order were at first and, although we had speculated about what the Prophecy might mean, well… strength in numbers and all that. Simply put, he didn’t want to deal with all this on his own, and initially I was the only one who knew about his discovery of the blessed candle, and so he brought me in on it.’
The Dark Temple Page 16