The 4th Secret

by The 4th Secret (retail) (epub)

  Bishop Canard turned then to Chloe and courteously shook her hand.

  ‘It’s Doctor Chloe Stanton,’ she replied firmly, glancing at Harker with disapproval. ‘And it is also a pleasure to meet you … I think.’

  Canard returned his attention to Harker, who was already gearing up for the next question.

  ‘Bishop Canard, with respect, I think you owe us an explanation.’

  ‘Actually I believe it is you that owes me an explanation,’ Canard rebuked him softly. ‘Why are you seeking an audience with Mr Eizel?’

  Harker was not about to initiate a stand-off and, besides, the last thing he wanted was for Alphonse the loveable ‘hunchback’ to be recalled. ‘Fair enough. I was asked to meet Doctor Marcus Eckard by the Vatican.’

  Canard’s face remained emotionless. ‘Go on.’

  ‘There are some in the Vatican who believe that he has information that may have recently gained in significance,’ Harker explained, deliberately keeping his answer vague. Then he glanced warily back to the doorway, to make a point.

  ‘Please feel safe to continue, Professor. We are free of prying eyes.’

  ‘OK, I met with Doctor Eckard who, as you may or may not know, has been a resident of Blackwater insane asylum for the past thirty years, and it was he who told me that I should visit Notre Dame and contact someone called Eizel in regards to information.’

  The bishop continued to stare at him blankly, his expression still giving nothing away. ‘Information? Anything else?’

  ‘Yes, he told me to say … ‘The darkest part of the night always comes before the dawn but in a windowless room the night is never-ending’ … whatever that means.’

  Finally, the cleric’s blank stare began to fade and was replaced with a cautious smile. ‘In that case you are both welcome here. How is poor old Marcus? I’ve had a few reports over the years but none that were very good.’

  ‘He’s dead, Bishop,’ Harker replied coldly, as a pang of anger now returned at having been held at knife-point earlier. ‘He was murdered last night at Blackwater by someone who also had myself in their sights.’

  Chloe took her chance at adding to this disclosure. ‘They were trying to kill me as well. I’m his … I was his psychologist.’

  This addition to Harker’s revelation seemed lost on the bishop, who now rubbed at his forehead and was clearly saddened by the news. ‘Then these are dangerous times, my friends. Very dangerous.’

  As Canard continued to preoccupy himself with the obvious grief or concern that was visibly welling up within him, Harker decided to press the momentum for fear of losing it. ‘I am sorry to have to be the one to give you this news but Doctor Eckard seemed adamant that this information would signify a great change – or a darkness enveloping the world, as he put it.’ Harker paused and searched for the right words, not wanting to offend their host. ‘Seeing as Doctor Eckard was … not exactly of sound mind, I’m unsure how seriously to take all this… whatever this is.’

  This comment drew a wide-eyed but unyielding stare from the cleric. ‘Marcus Eckard was no madman, extremely disturbed mentally, yes, but never insane.’

  Harker was tempted to relay the state in which he had encountered the late Doctor Eckard. The self-mutilation and … well, everything. But he resisted and allowed the bishop to continue.

  ‘Are you a believer, Professor Harker? In the spiritual world, I mean.’

  ‘In God, yes, but everything else?’ Harker replied with a shake of his head. ‘Not really, no.’

  His reply did nothing to dampen Canard’s steadfastness. ‘Then you are in for a serious shock, my friend.

  ‘Why? What is this darkness he was speaking of?’

  The bishop stood up straight, his complexion becoming somewhat grey. ‘It isn’t darkness he was speaking of, Professor Harker. It was something far greater. Simply put, he was to referring to the end … An end to humanity and the living world as we know it.’

  Chapter 9

  ‘Armageddon? Doomsday?’ Harker exclaimed with unbridled incredulity in his voice and, now resting against one of the wood-panelled alcoves lining the walls of Notre Dame’s treasury, ‘with respect, Bishop, that is the something I expected to hear from Marcus Eckard, not you.’

  ‘There is nothing respectful about it, Professor,’ Bishop Canard reasoned, ‘and you can be as sarcastic as you like, but remember one thing: you sought me out and not the other way around.’

  Harker was still shaking his head when he caught a glimpse of Chloe’s disapproving stare, and his shoulders slumped. ‘Oh, come on, Chloe, you don’t really believe this, do you?’

  ‘I don’t know, Alex,’ she replied calmly, ‘but I do think that at the very least we should hear what the bishop has to say… shouldn’t we?’

  Her response doused some of Harker’s irritation, and he gave their host a polite nod. ‘Of course, forgive me. It’s just that all this talk of gloom and doom is a bit medieval – especially coming from a bishop. Please continue.’

  Canard reached over to place his hand reassuringly on Harker’s shoulder. ‘I do understand. This is the not the kind of talk one would expect from a man of the cloth… not in the modern age anyway.’ He offered a troubled smile. ‘So why don’t I just tell you what I know.’

  The clergyman took a step backwards and pressed his hands together diplomatically. ‘When I was initially approached by Doctor Eckard, I had only recently taken up my position here at the cathedral and, although I was expecting a challenge, I freely admit that I never expected to have such a task laid at my feet. I had already met Doctor Eckard a few times whilst visiting the Vatican but he wasn’t what you would call a friend, which is why I found it so peculiar that he should approach me with such a request. He told me that a discovery had recently been made that would have unthinkable consequences for the faith and for the Catholic Church.’ Canard slowly made his way over to a large painting of St Francis of Assisi hanging between two of the alcoves and swung it aside on its brass hinges to reveal a grey-metal wall safe. He then proceeded to swivel the numerical dial back and forth until, with a click, the metal panel swung open allowing the clergyman to retrieve a small wooden box which he placed on the table below. ‘Then he entrusted this item to me and asked that I keep it safely hidden until the appropriate time.’

  ‘And you believed him, just like that?’ Harker inquired, taking a couple of steps towards the box.

  ‘Not at all,’ the cleric replied, looking somewhat offended. ‘I informed him that I wasn’t in the habit of holding unknown packages for anyone, regardless of how important they were. Besides which, it was the Seventies,’ Canard explained, biting his lip gingerly. ‘But when he then produced an official letter from the Pope himself, I began to take his request very seriously indeed.’

  ‘What did that letter say?’ Chloe interjected, taking a step closer to the shiny lacquered box.

  ‘It was a personal appeal from his Holiness asking that I honour Doctor Eckard’s wishes, and confirming that he had the full authority of the Vatican in this matter. It further stated that it was essential that I conceal any knowledge of its existence until I was called upon to do so, for the sake of humanity itself and all of God’s creatures.’

  ‘So how did you know it was us that would come calling?’ Chloe probed, but she had barely finished the sentence before the bishop reached under his vestment and produced a small brass key attached to a thin metal tag with printing on it, which he now held up for his guests to read.

  Harker had already recognised the words and he read them out loud: ‘The darkest part of the night always comes before the dawn, but in a locked room the night is never-ending.’

  ‘Yes.’ Canard nodded shrewdly. ‘And you are the first person in over thirty years to ever approach me with that password, and using the name Eizel.’

  Harker reached over and gently plucked the key from Canard’s hand, as the older man continued.

  ‘Even with that official letter I was still uncomforta
ble about taking charge of this item, but Doctor Eckard assured me that as long as the box remained closed, then the mentioned ‘consequences’ would have no bearing, but that a time would come when its contents would need to be shared with the world at large, and would be the Church’s only weapon in defeating the dark events that would follow.’

  ‘And you never told a soul?’ Harker asked, still examining the fine craftsmanship of the metal tag.

  ‘Just one: a trustworthy and extremely protective friend.’

  ‘Alphonse?’ Chloe almost shouted the answer whilst jerking her thumb backwards to the doorway behind.

  ‘Yes, a friend that has helped me shoulder the burden of this secret for so many years.’

  Harker shot the bishop a surprised glance. ‘And you never once looked inside?’

  Canard reached over and retrieved the brass key from him. ‘Never,’ he continued, before slipping it into the lock and then taking a step back so as to allow Harker access. ‘That was the burden I carried.’ He paused a moment to massage his brow. ‘Although I will admit that I came close a few times, but would you yourself readily open up Pandora’s Box, Professor?’

  Harker approached the wooden container and rested his thumb and finger on the key. ‘I am ashamed to say that I probably would have. I’d be far too curious.’

  ‘Then perhaps that is why you have been asked to retrieve it,’ Canard said knowingly, ‘just as I was asked to protect it.’

  This comment brought a smile to Harker’s lips and he acknowledged the logic with a nod before turning his attention back to the box and the key inserted. But, before he could apply pressure to it, Chloe slapped her hand squarely down on to the lid causing both men to jerk backwards.

  ‘Alex, before you open this, do either of you have any idea what ‘it’ is?’

  ‘I think so …’ Harker replied, throwing an uncertain glance in Canard’s direction. ‘Well, not exactly.’

  Harker could see a tinge of mistrust appear in the clergyman’s eyes and he immediately sought to eliminate the other man’s concerns without giving too much away. ‘The information Doctor Eckard gave me was that there are these certain texts that would pave the way for a timetable to those dark events you mentioned, and that these must be acquired if we are going to put a stop to it. He then told me to come to you. That’s it.’

  ‘What texts was he referring to?’ Canard asked, his eyebrows arching inquisitively.

  ‘The three Secrets of Fatima.’

  ‘The Secrets of Fatima!’ Canard spluttered. ‘But they were revealed years ago.’

  Harker shook his head. ‘Apparently not Bishop. The original Secrets were kept … well, secret. The ones in the public domain are merely fakes.

  ‘Fakes!’

  ‘Yes, according to Father Strasser, the same man that recruited me to meet with Doctor Eckard, the Secrets referred to an event so cataclysmic that they must be hidden until the right time, and the knowing of them could prevent whatever perceived nightmare is waiting on the horizon,’ Harker then pointed to the box in front of them. ‘And I am hoping one of them is contained right here in this box.’

  Canard was now looking bewildered. ‘So how did you decide the time is right?’

  Both the Bishop and Chloe were both staring at him questioningly but Harker was not about to disclose the bombshell that the Second Coming had been faked and that the Christ child was already back on earth. ‘I have no idea. You would have to ask the Vatican.’

  Before Canard could persist with further questions, a voice spoke up from behind them.

  ‘Your excellency?’

  All three heads snapped around to see a choirboy dressed in a traditional white vestment with red sleeves waiting anxiously in the treasury doorway.

  ‘The congregation are seated and ready for the service to begin.’

  Canard squinted and shook his head. ‘I almost forgot. Thank you, Frédéric. I will join them shortly.’

  The young boy looked perturbed by this answer and remained motionless in the doorway. ‘But, sir, they are getting restless.’

  ‘Then stall them, my boy,’ Canard ordered politely. ‘Why don’t you go and pass out the collection plate amongst the crowd.’

  ‘But we’ve already done that.’

  ‘Then do it again. They are mostly tourists anyway, so they should have lots of spending money on them.’

  Canard’s solution was met with a look of shock from the choirboy.

  ‘I am joking, Frédéric. Have the organist play some music to pass the time, and I will be there momentarily.’

  This final suggestion was met with a respectful nod, then the boy headed back into the main hall.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t need to go right now?’ Harker asked.

  Bishop Canard shook his head firmly. ‘Professor, I have waited over thirty years to see what is in this box, so believe me when I tell you that, at this moment in time, wild horses could not tear me away.’

  ‘Understood,’ Harker replied, returning his attention back to the box. ‘Let’s take a look.’

  The box itself was deceivingly heavy and Harker deduced that the grainy wooden casing must house a much sturdier metal container that offered added protection. He lightly gripped the brass key and turned it. Without warning the lid automatically opened, on its spring hinges, into an upright position. This was followed by the sound of pressure releasing, not unlike a somewhat muted fizzy-drink bottle, but Harker immediately realised it was just Chloe releasing a breath of anticipation, her face huddled close to his own in an attempt to get a good look. The box was indeed lined with a shiny metal interior casing and filled with a fibrous-looking white packing filler similar to cotton wool. Just below this wispy material, Harker caught the glint of an object and he carefully pulled away some of the overlying strands to reveal a small tubular glass container with a piece of white paper folded up neatly inside. He picked it up and held it upwards towards the window light, in order to get a better look.

  ‘What is that?’ Chloe demanded roughly, attempting to pull the glass vial from Harker’s hands.

  ‘Looks like a piece of paper,’ Harker replied, jerking the vial back towards him. ‘And there’s some writing on it. Just hold on.’ Harker reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved a white linen handkerchief which he wrapped repeatedly around the two-inch-long sealed glass container. He then placed the wrapped item down onto the tiled floor in front of him and hovered the sole of his foot over it. Harker brought his shoe down on to the handkerchief with a muffled crunch, and then retrieved the flattened handkerchief and placed it squarely on an adjacent side table. He then proceeded to carefully unwrap the white linen, revealing shards of broken glass and a small folded piece of aged paper. Picking up the note, he then unfolded it directly in front of Canard, as Chloe stared over his shoulder with all the intense concentration of an accountant studying a spreadsheet.

  The scrap of paper was a few inches wide by an inch deep and was blank except for a sentence handwritten in black ink.

  ‘And when those all around drop like fallen ash to the floor, the harps will begin to play their song and with it the icy and bright music of destruction will sound out for all to hear.’

  The confusion in Harker’s voice as he read this aloud was echoed by Chloe’s as she swiftly reached over and plucked the piece of paper from his fingers. ‘Is that all it says?’

  ‘Well, it’s obviously not the whole thing and just a snippet, but … yes.’ Harker replied, while pointing to the uneven edges of the paper. ‘You can tell a portion of it has been cut away at some point.’

  Harker allowed Chloe a few more seconds to examine the note before taking it back from her and checking the reverse side. But it was blank and he now turned his attention to the box itself. He rummaged through the packing filler but, on finding nothing else of worth, he gave Chloe a shake of his head. ‘That’s all there is.’

  As Chloe stood there looking unhappily perplexed, Harker found his attention returning
to Bishop Canard who was staring at the box glumly.

  ‘Well, that was worth thirty years of waiting,’ the bishop stated sarcastically. ‘I cannot even begin to tell you how many times I have needlessly worried over the safe-keeping of that box.’

  It was obvious Canard was truly depressed about the box’s contents – or lack of it – and Harker could only think of one thing to say. ‘Don’t you at least want to have a look at the note itself?’

  ‘Thank you but no,’ Canard replied indifferently, ‘I was told the note was not for my eyes.’

  His response drew a laugh from Chloe. ‘But you now know what it says’’

  ‘True, but no one said anything about hearing it with my own ears,’ Canard offered with a forced smile, before turning back to Harker. ‘Well, Professor, I must say that the last twenty minutes of knowing you have been among the most exciting, intriguing and wonderfully disappointing moments of my life.’

  The bishop’s sour remark was greeted by a laugh from Harker. ‘I’m sorry this has turned out not to be as exciting as you hoped, but even so this is apparently one of the real Secrets of Fatima! That has to mean something?’

  The bishop let out a disheartened sigh. ‘Yes, apparently … but more likely that it is a fugazzi.’

  ‘A fugazzi?’ Chloe queried unfamiliar with the term.

  ‘It’s Italian,’ Harker offered, ‘and its slang for anything that’s fake. In the past, Vatican couriers were given fake packages to test their reliability, as it were. If they were found to have been opened, then the courier was deemed unreliable and not to be trusted with the more important items.’

  ‘Or in most cases it was a way of making the cleric feel more important in his position,’ Canard declared matter-of-factly, ‘which I’m guessing is the case here, and that is most embarrassing if not somewhat insulting.’ The bishop gave a polite nod of his head and moved over to the open doorway leading back into the main cathedral. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, there are a hundred or so people all waiting for the service to begin,’ he announced. ‘You are of course both welcome to stay for the service, then afterwards I would be happy to discuss further this,’ the Bishop raised both hands and flicked his fingers sarcastically, ‘mini adventure of ours.’