The Dark Temple

by The Dark Temple (retail) (epub)

  ‘He was a Templar associate – and not only a close friend of mine but of Sebastian’s as well… It appears that David Carter was correct. The Templars know of them and they know us, but why the hell weren’t we informed?’

  This was probably the most important question to resolve at this point. ‘I don’t know,’ he said before picking the note up off the table and waving it in front of her, ‘but I’m willing to bet your father did… and mine too.’

  This observation saw Stefani beginning to calm, and now she focused her gaze on the piece of paper being brandished in her direction.

  ‘Perhaps destiny really is about to play its part.’

  Chapter 28

  God, I hate this place, thought Marco Lombardi as he perched on the uncomfortable plywood bench and waited like a good boy, as instructed. The large room was shabby and unkempt, with straw littering the floor and clumps of it swept up against the base of the wall, so it looked more like a stable than a meeting room. Hardly a fitting place for an animal to spend its time in, let alone that thing kept down there. How many years had it spent roaming its private underworld, its personal dominion, just waiting for the next soul to gorge upon?

  Lombardi’s lips curled at the thought and he rubbed his hands together as he pondered who would be next to face that inhuman beast. In all these years he had only ever caught a glimpse of it once, and he had to admit it had terrified him to the core. Yet that couldn’t even begin to approach the dread that those who sought to face it must have felt. Anyway, that wasn’t something to concern him because he wasn’t looking to usurp Father, but only to change the direction of things to come. And given his faith in Avi Legrundy, that change would be coming soon enough.

  In all these years he had never been able to get used to this place, and he yearned at every opportunity to return to the opulence of the city. Maybe he had become softened by a lavish lifestyle but, given all the hard work he had put in, it was something that he felt he thoroughly deserved. What was the point of creating such wealth and opportunity only to be force-fed this diet of antiquated rubbish from a bygone era he no longer even respected. How could Father expect him, of all people, to continue on a path that would ultimately lead to the misery of billions of others? Of course it was not the thought of this consequence that concerned him but rather that he had to waste his own time participating in it.

  Lombardi again glanced around his dilapidated surroundings and shook his head disparagingly. With its cracked grey plaster walls and stuffy atmosphere the room looked less like an office and more like a storage room. What a shithole.

  Just then the sound of the door opening had Lombardi snapping to attention. He stood up immediately as the tall, hooded figure of Father glided into the room and closed the door behind him. Only the lower portion of his mouth could be seen as the sagging hood covered the rest of his features.

  ‘Forgive my tardiness, Marco, but I had things to attend to that could not have waited.’

  Whether through respect or indoctrination, Lombardi gave a vigorous shake of the head. ‘Not at all, Father. Thank you for seeing me.’

  With a slow nod, Father placed a gloved hand on Lombardi’s shoulder. ‘This has been a long road for us, son, and I am aware that your patience and loyalty have been tested, but you will be rewarded with everything you deserve.’

  Lombardi nodded gratefully and seized upon Father’s words to begin his prepared speech. ‘That means everything to me, but it is also why I asked for this meeting.’

  Father remained silent and he stood back, with his hands clasped, and waited for the young man to explain himself.

  ‘I believe I have discovered the person directing Avi Legrundy against us,’ Lombardi said proudly, then paused for a reaction but, on getting none, continued with his revelation. ‘I tracked several phone calls made to her by none other than Sofia, and it appears she is the one who has been trying to thwart your careful plans.

  ‘But why?’ Father asked, sounding deeply unconvinced.

  ‘Perhaps a lack of faith in what we are trying to achieve?’

  There was an awkward pause before Father began to nod slowly. ‘Her willingness to conform has always worried me, I have to admit, but I never thought she would go this far.’

  Lombardi struggled to prevent a smile forming on his lips but nevertheless he succeeded and he now pushed ahead with his story. ‘I was as shocked as you are now, to say the least, but I assure you I’ve told no one else of her treachery in regards to you and how you may wish to proceed.’

  Father’s hooded head swayed from side to side, and he folded his arms before turning away in apparent dismay. ‘What do you think we should do then, Marco?’

  This question caught Lombardi off guard, but he smiled graciously and was now totally taken aback by the deference he was being shown by his leader. ‘Well, I think firstly Sofia must be confronted with the truth of her disloyalty, and then I would like to personally meet with Miss Legrundy and determine whether she was in any way involved with this betrayal or simply weak-minded and tricked into compliance.’

  As Father mulled over the suggestion, Lombardi couldn’t help but feel an enormous sense of satisfaction at his own cunning. Once the Red Death had got rid of Alex Harker, and that idiot sidekick of his, he could meet with Legrundy, take back the item she had retrieved from them, then deal with her in person, and in doing so tie up any loose ends connecting him to anything questionable. With that achieved he could finish off what had started and take his place at the head of the family. Perfection itself, and a scapegoat offered.

  ‘Yes, Marco, that would be good,’ Father replied, and turned his attention back to the younger man. ‘But only if I had not already managed to contact Miss Legrundy myself.’

  Lombardi’s heart sank like a stone and his breathing grew shallow and erratic. ‘You’ve spoken to her?’

  ‘Yes, Marco, and what she had to say was really quite enlightening. She said that it was you that had been instructing her, purportedly on my behalf.’

  ‘That’s a lie,’ Lombardi said defiantly, even though he was beginning to sweat and his voice starting to tremble nervously. ‘Why would I do such a thing?’

  Father grasped him by the shoulders and gave him a light shake. ‘Did you really think you could so easily pit us against each other, Marco? Did you really think I hadn’t noticed your loyalty ebbing away these past few months? Such a waste of talent.’

  Father released him and turned to face the opposite wall. ‘I was thinking of having you taught a lesson in the same way as poor old Donitz, but I believe you should have the chance to prove yourself once more and let him decide.’

  Lombardi knew exactly what was being offered and he had no intention of taking it. He leapt towards the door and swung it open – whereupon he came to a dead stop at what he saw ahead. Sofia stood there in the doorway and glared at him menacingly, as seven of his brothers and sisters stood ranged behind her. ‘All debts must be repaid, Marco, and betrayal is a difficult one to reimburse.’

  With Sofia at the fore, the group poured into the room and wrestled Lombardi to the floor. He kicked and screamed wildly, but with little effect, so it was all over before it even really started. Within seconds they had overpowered him with ease.

  ‘Consider yourself fortunate,’ Sofia yelled over the commotion, then she swept away a small pile of hay alongside the far wall to reveal an old wooden trap-door set in the floor. Its surface was covered with carved symbols of scorpions, swastikas, snakes and beaked ravens, all of them surrounding a large bull’s head with two thick horns protruding from it. ‘Not many are given the chance to test their mettle and thus gain entry to the hallowed Kingdom of God. The true god.’

  Lombardi was now sobbing uncontrollably as the trap-door was flung open. He was dragged towards it with his feet scraping against the wooden floorboards as he tried in vain to resist those pushing him ever closer towards that dark gap in the floor. The smell it emitted was truly awful and just as he attem
pted to scream for forgiveness, someone muzzled him with an open palm and in one swift thrust, he was dumped head first, through the trap-door and disappeared from sight somewhere down into that gloomy darkness.

  The others now withdrew from the opening and Father approached with a hand in one of his robe pockets, from which he now produced a small knife with a leather-wrapped handle, and dropped it inside just as Sofia slammed the trap-door shut again.

  ‘Let us pray for the brother lost to us, and hope he returns to us with a purified heart.’

  The group gathered around the trap-door with clasped hands and began to murmur a prayer, even as somewhere beneath them, a deafening roar cut through the air with such power that its vibrations could be felt through the wood flooring itself.

  That’s when the screaming began.

  Chapter 29

  ‘Venice, the Queen of the Adriatic, the floating City, City of Canals. I want to take in the sights and all I can think about now is how I wish I’d brought my wellingtons,’ Harker said gloomily, looking down at his black leather brogues that were nearly soaked through. ‘Beautiful city, though.’

  Stefani just about managed a smile as he moved away from the massive puddles alongside the Basilica overlooking the famous Piazza San Marco. ‘It does experience some minor flooding from time to time, but you can’t deny those views.’

  Harker surveyed the sprawling L-shaped open space which constituted the principal public square in Venice; absolutely packed with tourists at this time of day. The Church’s façade boasted enormous arches and marble walls adorned with mosaics, its main entrance attracted a constant crowd of tourists all putting up with those large puddles to gain access to the wonderful interior. He still found it hard to believe that this ancient city was being supported on nothing more than wooden posts, even if there were a million of them constantly sinking deeper into the mud year on year. This place was undoubtedly one of humanity’s most impressive architectural triumphs.

  ‘Do you remember much of this from your childhood? Harker asked, trying to engage with Stefani who had been uncharacteristically – though understandably – subdued on the flight over.

  ‘Hardly, Alex, I was barely one year old when I was adopted, and I never came back.’

  The strain in her voice was obvious and Harker moved closer to her. ‘So where’s the orphanage?’

  ‘Should be just around the corner if this map is correct,’ Stefani replied studying it for a few more seconds before folding it up and slipping it into her leather jacket pocket. With sagging shoulders she made her way off the Piazza and down a side street running next to the Basilica. Harker followed in silence and, even though he sensed she wasn’t in the mood to talk, he tried anyway, if for no other reason than simply to elicit a smile from those brooding lips.

  ‘I haven’t been here since I was eighteen,’ he remarked as a group of tourists headed past them, their smartphones held up in front of them like weapons. ‘Only spent one day before I had to get back.’

  ‘Family visit, was it?’

  ‘No, nothing like that. I was training at the Vatican and used a day off to come and see the sights.’

  The remark seemed to puzzle her. ‘Training for what?’

  ‘To be a priest.’

  This disclosure had her looking shocked and she stopped short as a further wave of tourists flowed past them. ‘You were a priest?’

  ‘Yes… with the emphasis on was.’ Harker replied and he felt as if she was judging him for some past crime.

  ‘I never would have thought that.’ She shook her head and continued walking, ‘You’re just so…’

  ‘Rebellious? Defiant?’ Harker offered, listing what he concluded some of his best qualities.

  ‘No, I was going to say stubborn and slightly annoying.’

  Harker’s face dropped and he was starting to feel a bit annoyed, when she began to laugh, and he immediately relaxed. ‘Very funny.’

  ‘I just didn’t know, that’s all,’ Stefani continued, suddenly appearing more upbeat. ‘The famous archaeologist Alex Harker was a priest.’

  ‘OK, now you’re just taking the piss,’ Harker said with a grin.

  But Stefani looked serious. ‘No, I mean it. You know how the Templars feel about you… well, a small number of us anyway.’ She let out a laugh. ‘OK, now I am taking the piss.’

  ‘Enough.’ Harker was glad to see that she now seemed in a better frame of mind than during the previous few hours. ‘Now, where precisely is this place we’re looking for?’

  Stefani turned her gaze to the row of buildings lining one side of the narrow street and finally pointed to one of them: ‘340 Calle Canonico. That’s it.’

  On the corner leading off into another tiny side street stood a small restaurant with large bay windows. Inside were people eating, some of whom began staring out at them.

  ‘Unless they now serve hungry passers-by as well as parentless kids, I’d say your orphanage was shut down a while back,’ Harker observed.

  Stefani pulled out the map again and examined it closely. ‘This is definitely it,’ she confirmed.

  With a shrug Harker led the way inside to take a closer look. The interior was exactly what it seemed: a restaurant. And, after staring around for a few moments, Harker approached the blond-haired waitress in a black uniform who was sitting behind the small counter. ‘Excuse me,’ he began politely, in order to catch her attention. ‘We’re trying to find the Ospedale del Santo. I was given this address.’

  The young woman swept back several loose strands of hair that had escaped her ponytail before she shook her head courteously. ‘We’re a restaurant.’

  Harker persisted ‘What was here before it became a restaurant?’

  Already used to strange questions from sight-seeking tourists, she shook her head again. ‘Sorry, I’ve only worked here for a few months; would you like a table?’

  ‘Thank you but no,’ Harker replied, as Stefani dodged a waiter carrying two bowls of spaghetti carbonara and a Diet Coke to a nearby table, ‘it’s the orphanage I was looking for.’

  She raised her shoulders helplessly. ‘Would you like to speak with the owner?

  Finally some headway, Harker thought, even if just grasping at straws. ‘That would be perfect, thank you.’

  The girl headed off down a narrow corridor leading to the rear and within a minute a heavy-set woman in her late fifties appeared. Sporting a bouffant hairstyle that only served to accentuate her ample frame, and dressed in a tan business jacket and skirt, with a necklace containing the largest set of fake pearls Harker had ever seen, the sight of her rapidly disproved the idea that all Italians were born with an inherent sense of fashion.

  ‘Can I help you?’ the woman asked in a strangely, high-pitched voice somewhat at odds with her generous frame.

  ‘We’re trying to get some information on the orphanage that used to be here. Maybe you can help us?’

  Her eyes squinted slightly, not with any sense of defensiveness but rather an air of puzzlement. ‘Why?’

  Stefani gently stepped past Harker and right up to the counter. ‘I was adopted from here as a baby, and my husband and I were putting together a family tree…’ She patted her stomach which she was now forcing outwards to suggest a bump.

  Without needing a prompt, Harker draped his arm around his supposed wife and nodded eagerly with a smile. ‘Family history has become so important to us now little Edward is on the way.’ He felt a pinch to his waist from Stefani indicating ‘Don’t overdo it’.

  The proprietor remained blank-faced, then a wide smile emerged on her puffy lips. ‘When you have children your life does take on a different meaning, doesn’t it? I’d be happy to show you around the place, if you’d like.’

  ‘That would be great,’ Stefani enthused and, with a beckoning flick of the woman’s hand they followed her beyond the counter and along the narrow corridor towards the far end of the building.

  ‘I bought this place about twenty-five years ago, af
ter the orphanage closed down.’ The plump woman guided them on past the kitchen area and out into a small backyard patio bordered on all sides by neighbouring buildings. The surrounding walls supported trellises hung with a beautiful collection of passion vines in a refreshing mixture of purple and orange, while in the centre was a round wooden table and several chairs whose varnish had long lost its shine.

  ‘There used to be some additional rooms here but we received special permission to take them down and build this seating area.’ The woman proudly swept a hand over the attractive arrangement.

  ‘It’s lovely.’ Harker nodded in approval.

  She turned back to face them both. ‘So what can I show you?’

  At that moment Harker returned gratefully to their reason for being here. ‘We were hoping to find out more about the orphanage’s history. Why it closed, for instance?’

  His question drew a look of wide-eyed surprise from the restaurant owner.

  ‘You don’t know, then?’

  ‘Know what?’ Stefani replied.

  Signora Busetto began to look uncomfortable. ‘I’m sorry, I assumed you knew – seeing as you were adopted from here.’

  She was obviously curious at their lack of knowledge and so Stefani began to explain herself. ‘I was adopted as a young baby and this is the first time I’ve been back. I honestly expected the orphanage to still be here.’

  Signora Busetto looked sad that Stefani was going to be disappointed and she motioned for them both to take a seat. She followed suit, the wooden chair creaking underneath her plentiful weight. ‘I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this but the orphanage was closed after a dreadful incident here some twenty-five years ago. I suppose it must have occurred shortly after you were adopted.’

  ‘What exactly happened?’ Harker demanded, as Stefani leant closer to the table.

  ‘About twenty children between the ages of one and eight years old used to be cared for here at the Orphanage of the Saint, which back then was attached to the Basilica out on the main Piazza. It was overseen by a priest – I can’t remember his name, I’m afraid – but by the early nineties orphanages had become all but extinct, so as such it had become a well-known institution in the city of Venice. Everyone knew of it.’