The Dark Temple

by The Dark Temple (retail) (epub)

  Carter let out a frustrated sigh. ‘No, it’s him I need to speak to. Just keep trying, will you.’

  ‘Of course,’ came the reply, then the line went dead and Carter dropped the mobile phone into his pocket.

  ‘Damn it,’ he yelled before returning to the numerous boxes scattering the floor of the small archive room. The more he read up on the Templars’ dealings, the more concerned he got because, from what he had read so far, their encounters with the Mithras cult were even more involved and deep-rooted than he had initially believed. With every new piece of information he sifted through, the more he worried for Harker’s and Stefani’s safety and, given what he had found out so far, they were both potentially in a lot of danger. The Mithras were a highly dangerous group that the Templars had considered it of crucial importance to dismantle, and Harker’s own father had not only been complicit in helping with this but had been the direct reason for their downfall. To find out that the Mithras still existed, after they were deemed defunct for a second time, posed not only a danger to the Templars but a serious threat to Harker himself. Because if they knew who he was, then surely their wish for revenge on the son of the man who had brought them down would be close to fanatical.

  Carter pulled out another journal and began to read through it but he was still struggling to fully get to grips with what the Mithras cult actually stood for. From what he had learned so far, they were a serious cause for concern to the Templars, but as to how or why was as yet unknown, and keeping all the details hidden and off the books was truly baffling. And this was even before asking what they had to do with the ‘blessed candle’ and ‘three days of Darkness’ prophecy that Harker had become so noticeably obsessed with recently.

  Carter scratched his head, raised his arms above his head and let out a huge yawn. So many questions and as yet so few answers – which was why he desperately needed to speak with Sebastian Brulet.

  ‘Bloody hell, Brulet,’ he groaned, ‘where the hell are you?’

  ‘Right behind you,’ A voice answered, and Carter nearly fell of his seat before he spun around to see Sebastian Brulet himself, Grand Master of the Templars, standing in the doorway with his hands casually in his pockets. ‘I heard you were trying to get hold of me, David,’ Brulet continued with a smile, then held both his hands out in front of him. ‘Well, here I am.’

  Carter jumped out of his seat and rushed over to shake one hand vigorously. ‘About time, Sebastian,’ he almost yelled, letting his frustration get the better of him. ‘We need to talk.’

  ‘I gathered that simply by the number of messages you left me. So much so, I thought I’d make a detour to the Mont and see you in person.’ Brulet maintained a friendly smile as if not responding to Carter’s outburst. ‘I’ve not been around lately as much as I should have, but I assure you that all changes as of now. I’ve rested long enough.’

  Brulet had been taking some time off to recuperate after his ordeal at the hands of the Magi months earlier and, considering what the man had been through, no one had ever once questioned that. The six months of torture he’d endured would have destroyed most men mentally but it appeared he had beaten the odds in making a full recovery. The problem was that Carter was still getting to know this man on a personal level and, given how recently he had been inducted into the Templar organisation, he still felt he had much to prove… which of course he did.

  ‘So, what can I do for you?’ Brulet asked, peering keenly over at the scattered pile of archive boxes. ‘And what exactly have you been looking through down here?’

  Carter glanced back at the chaos he had created and winced. ‘It looks more of a mess than it actually is but Alex has discovered something we think is… important.’

  ‘Go on,’ Brulet replied, now looking ever more concerned, which was difficult to gauge because those unique cross-shaped pupils of his which made him difficult to read.

  ‘The woman Alex asked me to check on, her name is Avi Legrundy.’

  Mention of the name had one of Brulet’s silver eyebrows raised immediately.

  ‘I did some checking, and she appears to have belonged to a group called the Mithras which’ – he motioned to the stack of box files behind him – ‘apparently the Templars had a lot of close dealings with some years ago.’

  Brulet appeared uncharacteristically shaken and he gazed down at the floor before returning to fix Carter with a stern and steely gaze. ‘How much does Alex know?’

  It was an unusual reaction from the Grand Master, who was not someone to keep secrets from those he trusted, and Carter sensed there might be a real problem here. ‘Not that much at the moment but I’m ploughing through the journals to try and catch up.’

  This answer seemed to soothe any concerns Brulet might be having and he smiled once again. ‘Good. I would like to discuss it with him myself – just the two of us. Is he here?’

  Carter jerked his head back with an expression of surprise. ‘He left the Vatican City and arrived in Venice a few hours ago, still chasing a lead on the “three days of Darkness” prophecy. He’s still with Stefani Mitchell.’

  Brulet looked blank-faced and his head tilted to one side curiously. ‘And who is Stefani Mitchell?’

  Chapter 33

  Father John Davies gazed at Harker with a serenely welcoming look on his face and then slowly nodded in satisfaction. ‘Hello, Alex, I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.’

  He stood dazed before this man whose murdering of a mother and child, prior to his own death, had sparked Harker’s involvement in this whole bizarre affair some days earlier. He stared back with a stunned expression at the ex-priest.

  ‘It seems you’ve been on quite a journey, my friend, and I must say you’ve exceeded all my expectations.’

  Harker remained silent, still utterly perplexed, as behind him the oversized man-child pushed the remaining bricks away from his body and staggered to his feet before clutching at the wounds inflicted on him by the short hunter’s knife.

  ‘Don’t be afraid of him,’ Davies urged, indicating the hulking giant. ‘He’s totally harmless under the right supervision.’

  Harker glanced back at the giant, who appeared to be cowering in abject terror under Davies’s gaze. ‘He took a step back and placed a hand reassuringly on the suffering youth’s arm.

  ‘Don’t touch him!’ Davies ordered sharply, and the giant immediately recoiled then limped away like a scared child, heading back into the gloom beyond. ‘I know this must be confusing for you, Alex, but allow me to explain and everything will become clear.’

  Harker turned away from the dusty, foul smelling cesspit and back to face Father Davies, whose black robe cut a forbidding silhouette against the bright light emanating from behind him. ‘What is all this?’ he demanded.

  Davies beckoned him over with a thin smile. ‘Come… let me show you.’

  With little alternative except to head back into that underground maze of bricks and filth, Harker stretched his aching shoulders and proceeded through the exit, as Father Davies simultaneously moved backwards as though not wanting to appear threatening in any way.

  The room beyond was in such contrast to where he had just been that, sucking in a breath of clean air, Harker paused to take in the sight of the opulent furnishings surrounding him. The black sheep’s wool carpet contrasted with the four large, white pillars which rose at the centre of the room to create an inner seating area with fancy red and black velvet sofas placed around a large marble coffee table. On the opposite wall was a large open grate containing a burning log fire, which crackled away merrily as golden flames licked the inside of the chimney overhead it. Above this hung an engraved relief of the now familiar Mithras image with the god wearing a flowing cape while plunging a knife into a captured bull. Images of a scorpion, a raven, a dog and a snake were contained in alcoves set into the walls surrounding this seating area, and red and gold drapes hung from shiny brass curtain rings connected to long poles of walnut timber runnin
g the width of the ceiling.

  One could be forgiven for thinking they had strayed into the lavish residence of some member of the Roman elite back in the days when their empire was at its height. The most eye-catching aspect of the room, though, was the ceiling adorned with a series of paintings, and Harker quickly recognised a similarity to the Sistine Chapel ceiling painted by Michelangelo. But as he surveyed it more closely, he soon saw that this was where the similarity ended. The separate images had the same general feel, with minor but very significant differences. The outer ones, inspired by the Old Testament, concurred in depicting David slaying Goliath or Jonah and the whale, but some of the inner ones were radically different. Any that might have depicted God as a wizened old man had been replaced with ones that were unmistakably Mithras himself. For instance the famous image where Adam at the creation almost touches fingers with his maker contained instead an image of Mithras with a golden crown and flowing cape, as he towered over crowds of naked, cowering people.

  As Father Davies halted and took up his position in front of the fireplace, Harker slowly moved towards the coffee table, and there he felt a shiver of trepidation on catching sight of the symbol etched in its centre. The overlapping circles surrounded by fifteen swastikas.

  ‘The two kingdoms,’ A voice intervened, and Harker looked over into a corner of the room to see Stefani Mitchell. Wearing a black and red coloured robe, she smiled at him warmly. ‘You were right in your theory about that symbol, Alex,’ she continued. ‘The kingdom of Mithras, the kingdom of hell – and the world of humanity caught between them both.’

  Harker felt a bitter-sweet sense of relief on seeing her. But his relief that Stefani was safe was tempered with sheer anger at her obvious betrayal of him. And even though the reasons for her deception were unclear to him, he remained calm and concentrated on what he did know. ‘So the death of your father…’ Harker began before dismissively pointing in Father Davies’s direction… ‘and his supposed possession was all fake?’

  The pair of them said nothing but, judging by their encouraging smiles, they wanted him to reveal what he had learned for himself.

  ‘And those “blessed candles” you encouraged me to hunt down, and the Prophecy too, they were just… what, some kind of ruse?’

  ‘I’m afraid they weren’t nearly as important as perhaps you were led to believe, and nor was the Prophecy.’ Father Davies replied, while Stefani now looked almost guilty at this admission.

  This reply was about as enlightening as a kick in the teeth, and Harker struggled to maintain his cool. ‘I know about the little Mithras cult you have going on here, and I also know that Templars – and my father – helped put you bunch of sick puppies to bed a long time ago. So what’s this whole thing about? A punishment for the son of the man who put you out of business?’

  Harker was clutching at straws here because the only possible reason he could fathom was revenge but, given the convoluted wild-goose chase he had been taken on as well as the trail of blood left in its wake, it made just as much sense as one of Carter’s conspiracy theories. ‘If you’d wanted to kill me for my father’s actions then you could have snatched me off the streets of Cambridge at any time without killing so many other people in the process. Or are you just a bunch of inbred raving lunatics? You probably all have six toes, don’t you? Or perhaps you consider yourselves an extended family, which is most likely just an excuse for some twisted sexual free-for-all!’

  Harker knew that he was starting to ramble foolishly, but at this point he didn’t care. None of this made any sense to him and, as he let out a frustrated yell, Father Davies took a step closer to the table between them.

  ‘I understand that you’re angry, but this is not a punishment for your father’s past crimes.’

  ‘So, then, what is it? Some sick endurance test?’

  No, you’ve got it all wrong, Alex.’ Stefani had real sincerity in her voice. ‘This was never a test for you… it was an invitation.’

  The explanation had Harker dumbfounded, not because he was shocked by it but because he had no idea what she was talking about. As he stood there with a blank expression, a door opened on the far side of the room and a procession of people began making their way in. All were hooded and they wore the same black and red robes as Stefani and, as if rehearsed, they spread out and assumed separate positions around the room. Some sat down on the sofas whilst others stood against the walls, until in the end there must have been close to fifteen of them, who all now stared at him with only their mouths visible under the hoods.

  ‘Why don’t you say hello to some friends of yours, Alex?’ Father Davies suggested and in unison all pulled back those heavy hoods. As Harker’s stare travelled amongst them, noting their smiling faces, he felt his knees begin to go weak and he reached out to the nearest pillar to steady himself.

  ‘Hello, Alex,’ Dr Gérald Marceau spoke first. ‘It’s good to see you again.

  Harker remained silent as he gazed blankly at the others.

  ‘Same goes for me, Professor,’ Adonis Anastas spoke next, that same museum curator Harker had witnessed being shot back in Athens.

  As Harker stared around, he became increasingly flabbergasted with the recognition of each face. On the far sofa sat Detective Andrea Russo who had chaperoned him back in Italy, and next to him sat Signora Busetto from the Venetian restaurant. Behind them stood the same bald man, resembling Ming the Merciless, who had hosted that crazy marriage ceremony back amid the ruins of the Baths of Caracalla. Beside him all three members of the Order of Tharmis also offered a smile.

  ‘Tharmis,’ Harker muttered, only now recognising the significance of that name ‘It’s an anagram of Mithras.’

  ‘I honestly thought you’d work that out sooner,’ Davies declared to a chuckle all around.

  Even though all those people now staring at him appeared friendly, even welcoming, this was one of the most unnerving situations Harker had ever experienced. As he racked his head for any rational explanation, it was Father Davies who approached him, with Stefani at his side.

  ‘They call me “Father”,’ he began with great gravity in his tone, ‘and soon all will become clear.’

  Harker managed a nod and, at a flick of Davies’s hands, the others dutifully lined up and without another word all made their way back out the door they had come in by.

  ‘I’ll see you later,’ Stefani said, rubbing his arm affectionately before herself exiting the room, thus leaving only Harker and her father alone amid the crackling sounds of the log fire.

  ‘What I am about to tell you I have rehearsed in my head a thousand times over the years, but it always starts the same way,’ Davies began, clasping his hands behind his back. ‘At the beginning…’

  ‘That would be good.’ Harker interrupted, feeling as if he was smack bang in the middle of an Agatha Christie novel.

  ‘How much do you know about your own father, Alex?’

  ‘Not as much as I would like to,’ Harker replied honestly. ‘But I know he was a Templar.’

  ‘That is true, and a remarkably effective one at that,’ his host agreed. ‘But do you know anything about his early life, before he became involved with the Order?’

  Doubtlessly Father Davies already knew the answer to this but, given that Harker felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights, he considered it best to play along. ‘Up until a few months ago I always thought he worked in a chicken factory so, as you can imagine, his Templar connection came as total surprise to me.’

  ‘Understandable,’ Davies agreed, ‘since the lies we tell our children can have the direst effects on their upbringing. But do you know the truth about his death?’

  The question was delivered flatly and Harker gave a shake of his head. ‘I always believed he was killed by an IRA bomb – wrong place wrong time – but given what I’ve since learnt about his dual identity, I can honestly say I’m not sure any more.’

  ‘Very wise of you, Alex,’ Davies pursed his lips together fir
mly. ‘But what if I told you he was in fact murdered by the same people you now hold so dear?’

  ‘The Templars?’ Harker exclaimed, with evident disdain for such an accusation.

  ‘One and the same,’ Davies replied, ignoring the look of mistrust now on Harker’s face as he continued with his explanation. ‘And what would you say if I told you I knew it to be a fact.’

  ‘I’d say you would need some really hard evidence to back it up… and, anyway, why would they?’

  This defiant response drew a thin smile from Davies. ‘Because what you might not yet know is that, before he joined the ranks of the Templars, he was once a member of Mithras.’

  This hit Harker like a sledgehammer and he found himself gulping nervously. ‘That’s ridiculous. I don’t believe you.’

  His obvious disbelief garnered another dry smile from Davies, who reached into his pocket and pulled out a small square Kodak polaroid photograph. ‘But would you believe your own eyes?’

  Harker stared down at the picture and suddenly a deep gnawing sensation began to claw at his stomach. The image showed three people standing all together and smiling for the camera. They were maybe in their late teens and, although young, they were still easy to recognise. Liam Harker grinned at the camera, his arm around Avi Legrundy in the middle, with Father Davies on the other side of her. It looked like a typical photograph of close friends having fun and for a few seconds Harker couldn’t take his eyes off it, but the more he stared the more he realised this man was definitely his own father. ‘That can’t be,’ He muttered as Davies took it out of his hand and then dropped it into Harker’s jacket pocket.

  ‘You can keep it,’ he said before giving him a stern look. ‘And if you’re prepared to listen, then I would like to tell you everything.’