‘Because it is highly likely the Magi want him silenced just as much as we do, given his failed service to them. The Magi are not of the forgiving type, as you know.’
‘Still,’ Harker pressed, ‘it’s a possibility.’
‘Am I missing something?’ Chloe interrupted and becoming increasingly frustrated. ‘Who exactly is this Lusic Bekhit?’
‘Lusic Bekhit was once a Templar,’ Brulet explained, grimacing as if he had a foul taste in his mouth. ‘But he then turned out to be a mole working for the Magi.’
‘He tried to kill me at thirty thousand feet and make it look like a plane crash.’ Harker said indignantly, still angered by the notion that Bekhit had so far got off scot free.
‘How?’ Chloe looked shocked to learn of yet another person who had tried to murder Harker.
‘Ask me another time. It’s a long story,’ he replied gently. He turned his attention back to Brulet. ‘Shouldn’t we at least try and discover what he knows?’
An awkward silence spread through the cabin as Brulet considered the idea, but before he could make his decision it was Shroder who offered a solution.
‘I’ll go,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘Jones and I can take the other jet. Besides, with my credentials it will be a lot easier for me to reach his location, given the current climate.’
Brulet remained silent for a few moments, fingers interlaced and raised to his lips, before dropping both hands to his chest and eyeing Harker sternly. ‘This idea of yours is pretty thin, Alex. It is wafer-like in fact. Bekhit would be considered by them to be no more than a low-level associate, if not a potential enemy. What we would really need in order to put your theory to a test is an actual member of the Magi, and as of this moment we don’t know the whereabouts of a single one.’
The look that appeared on Harker’s face made the Grand Master lean forward, his chin raised inquisitively. ‘Do you know any Magi, Alex?’
Harker gave a shrewd smile and glanced at Chloe and Shroder before returning his eyes to the questioning gaze of Brulet. ‘Yes,’ he replied confidently, ‘I know one.’
Chapter 32
‘And I told you, Mr Harker, you’re not getting in without special permission from the Home Office and that’s that.’
Harker slammed his fist down on the front desk in frustration, eyeing the reception guard with contempt as Chloe nudged him aside and attempted to influence the man’s decision with her own credentials.
‘My name is Doctor Chloe Stanton and I am the chief of staff at Blackwater psychiatric facility. I need to impress upon you how important it is that you allow us access right now.’
‘Listen, love,’ the young guard replied sarcastically, clearly annoyed by Chloe’s lame attempt to outrank him, ‘I don’t care if you’re the Surgeon General, you’re not getting in without Home Office approval.’
‘But we do have approval,’ Harker replied, becoming weary of having to explain himself, ‘direct from the Home Office.’
The guard was already shaking his head. ‘And I’ve told you that all our telephones are down.’ He pulled a Samsung cell-phone from his trouser pocket and waved it in front of him. ‘Even our mobiles aren’t working and, without being able to confirm what you’re saying, I‘m not letting you in. End of conversation, understand?’
Harker glanced towards Chloe in the hope that she might have another suggestion, but the blank expression he received convinced him to stay silent. He turned back to face the uncompromising stare of the guard, and let out an irritated sigh. It had taken over four hours to fly back to the UK and Brulet had even managed to get a call through to a contact in the Home Office by piggybacking of a military satellite, but now here they were getting stopped in their tracks at the last hurdle. Harker was still racking his brains for a solution to the dilemma when another older guard appeared from one of the offices behind.
‘It’s all right, John, I’ll take it from here,’ the newcomer said with a reassuring pat on the man’s shoulder. ‘Why don’t you go brew up a cuppa for us?’
‘Yes, sir.’ The younger guard shot Harker a look of irritation before disappearing through one of the side doors, leaving the three of them alone at the reception desk.
‘My name is Peter Holcroft and I’m the senior officer here.’
‘Thank you, Mr Holcroft. My name is …’
Officer Holcroft raised his hand between them stopping Harker mid-sentence. ‘Professor Harker, right? I know who you are. And you’re Doctor Stanton?’ he briefly turned his attention to Chloe.
‘Yes. Call me Chloe, please.’
‘Very well then, Chloe, Professor Harker. If you’d like to follow me.’
Holcroft made his way from behind the reception desk over to a large steel security door, where he waved up at the surveillance camera above. Within seconds the door clicked open with a buzzing sound and he headed inside, followed by Harker and Chloe. They then headed along a series of short white-painted corridors to another door, where the officer repeated the procedure. It was only after the second door closed behind them that Holcroft began to speak again. ‘Welcome to Wakefield Prison,’ he announced, his outstretched hand gesturing towards a series of barred doors that led on to the cell wings beyond. ‘Or the monster mansion, as the press have dubbed us.’
‘Monster mansion?’ Harker queried, and unaware of the prison’s nickname.
‘Professor, we house here some of the most prolific sex offenders in the UK: Categories A and B. If you’ve read about them in the papers, then chances are they’ve spent time here.’ Holcroft moved away from the checkpoint, pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked one of the nearby holding rooms. ‘Paedophiles, rapists and murderers with a five-year minimum sentence, all the way up to life imprisonment.’ He swung open the sturdy door and motioned them inside, towards a metal table and set of chairs which were all bolted securely to the floor. Behind them Holcroft re-locked the door and slipped the key back into his pocket before turning to face Harker and Chloe, who had already taken their seats. ‘We have or have had everyone here, from the child killers Ian Huntley, Roy Whiting and Mark Bridger to the notorious Charles Bronson, although he goes by another name these days.’ Officer Holcroft took a step towards the table and folded his arms ostentatiously. ‘And now you’re here to see one of our newest arrivals … how come?’
Holcroft’s increasingly aggressive demeanour had little impact on Harker. After all, the man had a right to be curious even if he wouldn’t be getting any answers. ‘With respect, Officer Holcroft, that is between myself and the Home Office. I’m just glad that you received the call before the phones went down.’
Holcroft kept his arms folded and lent towards them with a determined glint in his eye. ‘I never received a phone call from the Home Office – or anyone else for that matter.’
The ominous way he was staring at them made Harker wary, but he continued to maintain an air of diplomacy as he asked the only question left open to him. ‘Then why let us in?’
‘Because I recognised you at reception and, considering everything else that is going on, I wasn’t about to let this opportunity pass without speaking with you.’
‘What do you mean?’ Harker replied as Chloe shot him a concerned glance.
Holcroft plonked himself on the table top, pulled a newspaper out from under his arm and tapped on it heedfully. ‘Over the past few days the entire planet appears to be going to pot. There have been earthquakes, chemical attacks… and that outbreak in Jerusalem.’ Holcroft now began tapping more rapidly with his finger on the newspaper, his jaw muscles visibly tightening. ‘And then these wolf-type creatures – demons – whatever you want to call them, are flashed across every news channel in the country just before all the TV stations pack up along with our mobiles and now some of the landlines.’
‘Oh that,’ Harker replied, almost sounding as if he were making light of these dramatic events.
‘Yes… that,’ Holcroft replied, his nostrils flaring, ‘this prison’s been out of contact for t
he past seven hours and when I made a trip to our local constabulary, they were just as much in the dark as we are … Half the prison guards didn’t even show up for work this morning and there are reports on the radio of food riots breaking out all over the country. So when I saw you here today, I thought I would get some answers from you. Because, Professor,’ Holcroft continued loudly, ‘I have a wife and two daughters who are at this moment sat at home and scared shitless by the chaos that is already gripping this great country. So I ask you, what the hell is going on?’
‘I understand your worry but with respect, Officer, why do you think I would know anything about it?’ Harker replied as calmly and courteously as possible given that the officer’s knuckles had turned white as his grip on the newspapers became ever tighter.
‘Take a guess, Professor.’ Holcroft threw the tabloid down on the table top so Harker could read the front-page headline. Harker now spotted in Jerusalem as all hell breaks loose…
As he gazed down at the front page, Harker began to feel a tightness in his stomach. The main picture showed a clear image of himself and Chloe racing out of the Temple Mount as fires throughout the city lit up the sky in the background. Beneath it were two smaller pictures: one showing the pair of them surrounded by bodies on the steps of Notre Dame Cathedral, and next to it a picture of just Harker himself at Vatican City four months earlier.
He skipped to the related pages inside only to discover that the main article was even more alarming than the suggestive nature of the photos on the front page and he began to read it aloud for Chloe’s benefit.
‘For almost five months now wild accusations have surrounded the Catholic Church regarding Pope Adrian VII’s admission to world leaders that the second coming of Christ was upon us. Many, including this newspaper, have found the idea of Jesus Christ being reborn as frankly offensive and opportunist. The Church has, of course, denied these allegations even if the disappearance of the then Pope seemed to suggest to many that there was some substance to the rumours. For many others, though, Pope Adrian’s vanishing act suggests a more plausible reason in the form of him suffering a complete mental breakdown, which had the Church running around in circles to keep such knowledge from entering the public domain. Whichever side of the fence you’re thinking you might have landed on, recent world events might give you cause to revisit your initial opinion. The past few days have seen incidents of disaster that would be better suited within the pages of the King James Bible rather than any of the major news channels. Starting with apparent chemical attacks at places of worship throughout the world, then the earthquake at Vatican City during the new Pope’s speech, which is thought to have taken the lives of tens of thousands, and most recently the horrific outbreak in the city of Jerusalem.
‘These terrible events, all with religious overtones, have incredibly been eclipsed by the torrent of cataclysmic earthquakes, tsunamis, tidal waves and violent storms that have rocked every continent of the world. At the moment of writing there is hardly a single country that has not been affected by them in some way, many have been no less than apocalyptic. Recent reports coming in are almost too fantastical to quote but I have it on unquestionable authority that unknown creatures have been seen attacking ordinary people just before some of the latest earthquakes. So are we truly witnessing the beginning of the end, or is humanity merely reaping what it has sown in a series of coincidences arising out of a global-warming meltdown? It is said that only one man may know for sure since he has direct links to several of these events, and in recent months has become the centre for conspiracy theorists worldwide.
‘Professor Alex Harker is the individual in question and there follows a special feature aimed at disclosing what we know and fear about this elusive Cambridge don and his connection with the terrifying events that are now enveloping our lives. Natural cataclysm or approaching apocalypse: decide for yourself.’
Harker groaned as he flicked through the following pages which provided a disturbing timeline of the events to date and how they regularly connected to a one Alex Harker.
‘How did they get these pictures?’ Chloe gasped as she pulled the newspaper closer to her.
‘With a camera most likely,’ Harker replied sarcastically, burying his head in his hands as Chloe shot him an unamused glance and then returned to her inspection of the paper.
‘So, Professor, I ask you again,’ Officer Holcroft reclaimed Harker’s attention, ‘what the hell is going on?’
Harker paused before replying, preoccupied with the idea that the world’s media might be focused on him. That he had made it back into the UK without being instantly detained was perhaps due to the fact that most lines of communications had gone down. In a world that had consigned pen and paper to the fate of the dodo, and replaced them with an invisible electronic cloud it wasn’t surprising that life should slow down to a snail’s pace if suddenly deprived of such tools.
‘It’s all true,’ Harker announced flatly, even as Chloe eyed him with surprise. ‘And the second coming has happened, and everything else that is happening revolves around that.’
‘Alex!’ Chloe yelled in protest, and officer Holcroft gave a blank stare at Harker’s candour.
‘I should tell you I’m an atheist,’ Holcroft finally revealed.
‘Then I should tell you that it doesn’t matter,’ Harker replied coldly. ‘What does matter is that unless I speak soon with your new arrival here, things are going to get much – much worse. If you want to get dramatic about it, you might say the world’s salvation is now in your hands Officer Holcroft, and yours alone.’
Holcroft seemed to loosen up under Harker’s direct approach, and he unfolded his arms, and nervously bit his lip. ‘My wife is religious, however, and she thinks this really could be it.’
‘Well, Officer Holcroft, what do you yourself think?’
The man remained silent as he pondered this question and a full sixty seconds passed which seemed like an eternity. Harker should have been feeling uncomfortable as the prison officer’s stare continued to bore into him, but he wasn’t because there is a time during any negotiation when all that needs to be said has been said, and all that is left is to wait patiently, and the first person to speak is usually the one who loses. Thankfully it was Holcroft who broke first, and he picked the newspaper up and placed it back under his arm. ‘OK, you can see him,’ he announced simply, and made his way over to the door and unlocked it. ‘But if I sense for a moment that you’re bullshitting me, then I promise you this … I’ll dump both of you in the cell alongside him and throw away the key.’
Chapter 33
The streets of Hamburg were remarkably quiet for the time of night as Shroder made his way down Elbchaussee Road in the black Lexus LS four-door. Of course this emptiness was hardly surprising considering the papers had been full of talk regarding the possible implementation of a countrywide curfew. Even the heavily used river Elbe running parallel to the road he was on seemed dulled by the lack of container ships that usually dotted its cold dark waters.
Shroder turned right on to a narrow residential street and then pulled up outside a modern-looking apartment block with plush balconies offering a pleasant view of the river. ‘There it is.’ he muttered to himself, looking up at a corner residence on the first floor.
He switched off the engine, wound down his window and waved over to a man sitting in a navy-blue opal Corsa parked up on the opposite side of the road. In acknowledgement the Corsa’s engine fired up and then slowly drove over, stopping only when the two cars’ windows were aligned. The window whirred down to reveal a man in his thirties with slicked-back blond hair tied in a ponytail and with a thin moustache hanging from his top lip. ‘There’s a buzzer system for access but the security camera appears to have had a malfunction,’ the man explained in a German accent and with a knowing wink. ‘Your man has been inside there since we spoke. He’s had a few visitors but they left just minutes ago … Don’t worry, I have their registration number if you n
eed it. Since then it has been all quiet on the Western Front.’
The insider joke made Shroder smile and he nodded. ‘Thanks, Karl, I owe you one.’
‘I know,’ the other replied. ‘You can buy me a drink once the world has decided to cool down a bit. So how do you want to handle this?’
‘Given the limitations on time, I think a direct approach would be best,’ Shroder decided, and he pulled the Browning from his side holster and released the safety catch.
‘The direct approach it is, then,’ Karl replied, pulling out his Beretta 71 Jaguar from an inside jacket pocket.
‘Thanks for the offer, Karl, but I need to do this on my own.’
‘You sure?’
‘I’m sure.’
Karl paused for a moment and then, once satisfied there was no room for second thoughts, he replaced the gun in his pocket. ‘OK, good luck.’ He gave a friendly nod, wound up his window and drove away, leaving Shroder alone with only the gun and his thoughts to keep him company. The German intelligence agent was a good friend and a good man to have at one’s side, but the Bekhit issue was going to require some personal attention that could cause any number of moral dilemmas for an honest agent like Karl. No, Shroder had to handle this alone.
He exited the Lexus and made his way along the short residential path leading to the apartment block’s main entrance, with his gun now concealed in its holster. It was a cold night and the only interest in his movements came from a black cat sitting up on one of the balconies which, after a quick glance down at Shroder, resumed the far more important task of self-grooming.
Shroder reached the entrance door and studied the eight illuminated buzzers on the wall beside it, noting the names and then finally settling on one residing on the top floor. He pressed the bell and waited.
‘Hello.’
‘Hello, I have a special delivery for Mr Koch,’ Shroder replied in flawless German.
‘You have the wrong number. He’s on the second floor.’
The 4th Secret Page 30