Harker sank to his knees, then immediately sprang back upright as another punch slammed into his ribs.
‘I said move,’ a rasping voice yelled, but this time forgoing a further blow and instead grabbing Harker’s collar and shoving him forward roughly. ‘They’re waiting.’
Within seconds of Vlad’s ominous welcome, a sack had been pulled over his head and he was dragged away from Chloe and Carter to be locked up, handcuffed, in a darkened room somewhere deep within the mansion. With a rope securing the sack around his neck, he had been left on his own for hours except when on one occasion the door opened and someone had sloshed water over his head, shouting ‘Tea time’.
Whether it was water or cold tea was irrelevant because the gross hospitality had merely left him wet and cold, with only a few drops penetrating through the sack to reach his lips. The cramped confines of what he had come to guess was a storage cupboard had become something of a torture in itself, and by the time he was pulled out again every muscle in his body was aching.
A succession of bright lights now infiltrated the fibres of the sack hood he was wearing and, as he was led forcefully up some stairs, Harker began to hear a low-level hum which grew in intensity the nearer he approached. It was impossible to judge if it was coming from a machine or something else, but as he reached the top of the stairs and the sack was pulled off, the sight that awaited him was unsettling at best. Squinting, Harker scanned his surroundings through blurry eyes.
The open-air semicircular amphitheatre before him had been carved into the side of the same mountain Harker had traversed in order to reach the mansion and, judging by the sight of the tennis courts in the distance, it was located on the opposite side of that palatial estate. Stone steps had been cut into the curving interior and, from where he stood now on the top level, Harker was able to get a bird’s-eye view of the entire arena. Flaming torches had been positioned throughout and they flickered across the stone steps leading down to a stage hollowed into the mountain itself. But although the seating arrangement could have easily held a few thousand people, it contained fewer than twenty spread out randomly. Each individual wore the same robe Harker had noted back at Cervete cemetery and a black face mask adorned with an image that was impossible to distinguish clearly from his current position. The sight was dispiriting enough, but the low-level communal humming only increased the morbid atmosphere. At first Harker couldn’t make out why the monotone sound was so loud, given the vast size of the amphitheatre, but a series of black rectangular speakers placed throughout soon provided the answer.
‘Well, you made it,’ a familiar voice spoke up, and Harker turned around to see Vlad standing before him with his arms crossed and staring at him with less than amused expression.
‘Where are Chloe and David?’ Harker demanded angrily, but Vlad simply ignored his question and motioned to the uniformed guard behind him. Without uttering a word, the man grasped Harker’s shoulder and forced him roughly down the steps of the amphitheatre and onto the orchestra floor, as Vlad himself made his way up onto the stage.
The masked figures continued with their low-level humming as they watched Harker being led into the centre of the orchestra floor, and it was only now that he was able to get a clear look at the carved stone stage. Heavy red drapes hung from the concave ceiling to the floor, and in the middle stood a large white cylindrical pod, planted on a base like a monolith, with a darkened viewing window at the top which gave it the appearance of a single eye watching over surrounding events as they unfolded. The unusual object looked completely out of place on the ancient stage, but it was the movement at the platform’s darkened edges that now caught Harker’s attention. He began to struggle against his guard even as the man tightened his grip.
For, one on each side, Chloe Stanton and David Carter hung from large wooden crucifixes fixed into the floor, their wrists and ankles secured by ropes and cloth rags stuffed between their teeth, like horses chomping on a bit.
The look of fear glistening in their eyes had Harker slamming an elbow into his guard’s chest as he attempted to rush forward, but a swift kick to the back of his leg brought him down onto his knees with a thud. His guard knelt down beside him and grabbed him by the throat, pressing firmly against his windpipe, and with his other hand he slowly pulled up the black face mask to reveal his identity.
Carlu, head of that Corsican family of serial killers, offered an excited grin as he tightened his grip on Harker’s throat. ‘I felt sure our paths would cross again.’
Harker felt his bottom lip quivering momentarily as a feeling of dread washed over him but, before he could attempt a response, Carlu forced his head in the direction of the two other attendees standing nearest, who raised their masks to reveal the smiling face of Sofia standing next to a vengeful-looking Mama, with a white butterfly stitch across her broken nose.
‘The whole family is here to see you,’ Carlu announced before raising his fist and delivering a solid punch across Harker’s jaw, which sent him flying face down onto the ground. ‘That’s for Mama,’ he rasped as he pulled Harker back onto his knees, before letting fly another powerful blow. ‘That’s for me,’ Carlu continued, and then he uncurled his fist and landed a light slap on Harker’s other cheek. ‘And that’s from Sofia, who for some reason has taken a liking to you.’
With blood dripping from his lips, Harker groggily gazed up at the two female family members, to be met with a friendly wave from Sofia as Mama looked on with hatred in her eyes.
‘My little girl so does admire a spirited nature in her victims, and you, Alex, are a resilient one, aren’t you?’
Harker’s head was spinning, and he turned his attention away from Carlu’s insane and inbred family towards Chloe. ‘What are you going to do?’ he asked, the words slurred due to the throbbing in his jaw.
‘You’ll see soon enough,’ Carlu replied with a firm slap across the top of Harker’s head, ‘and you’ll have a front-row seat.’
Up on the stage, Vlad motioned towards the hanging red drapes and, at a click of his fingers, they pulled apart to reveal an old man sitting in a wheelchair. A black-suited attendant gently rolled him forward, then brought him to a stop right next to the upright pod. Backlights began to brighten the stage, illuminating the old man dimly.
Jacob Winters reached over and pressed his palm against the surface of the white cylinder and then stroked it lovingly, and for the first time Harker was able to see clearly the man who had dragged him into this whole affair.
Winters was clearly recognizable from the photo that Shroder had produced earlier, and although this was the first time Harker had laid eyes on ‘God’, there was something recognizable about the old man. What it was Harker couldn’t put his finger on, but as Winters now shot him a glance and smiled, there was an eerie familiarity to him that Harker just could not shake.
Vlad made his way over and, from his pocket, retrieved two clip-on microphones, one of which he attached to Winters’s lapel and the other to his own. Winters now pressed the tips of his fingers together respectfully and began to address his waiting audience, who finally ceased their incessant and frankly creepy humming.
‘Welcome, brothers and sisters, on this most hallowed of evenings, and allow me to commend the wisdom and strength you have shown in all coming here. I sit before you now as merely a representative of the hardship, the toil, the sacrifice that every one of you – and your ancestors before you – has undergone in order that our vision of the truth may be brought to fruition. As I look at you, I see the dedication you have all given to a truth that has long been lost to the corrupt religious lies spread throughout the era of humanity.’
Winters tapped the cylinder beside him lightly and began nodding his head thoughtfully. ‘But we here know better. For we see the world, and our place in it, with a clarity that those charlatans filled with centuries of self-righteous dogma can neither see nor hope to understand. Our power lies in the truth of the one true king that we seek to restore to his rightful place in this world, he who will in turn grant us the gift of eternal life and the chance to serve at his side, as humanity is relegated to its rightful place.’
Throughout the arena, the shadowy figures remained silent, with the flickering light of the torches creating the only movement.
Winters stretched out his hands towards them. ‘You have bestowed upon me great trust and belief in guiding you all towards a destiny that is and always has been yours by right, and you have witnessed with your own eyes the power of the Gigas Codex and its ability to deliver you from the disease that not only unites but plagues us all.’ Winters reached under his lap blanket and produced a single folded page of the Codex which he held up in front of him like a sacrificial offering. ‘Death…but no more. For by the master’s own hand he has given us not only this miracle of everlasting life, but the ability for us to restore his very being to its rightful place, with you at his side. You will become his generals, his champions and the very foundation on which the world will be rebuilt in his image and yours.’
Once again Winters placed his open palm against the side of the pod and stroked it. ‘For, with the guiding words of the Codex, he is now again amongst us and tonight he will walk the earth once more, and with that you will be reborn as gods.’
The pod began to tremble and throughout the amphitheatre the onlookers began to murmur excitedly. Winters passed the Codex page over to Vlad who, with a dutiful nod, unfolded the oversized piece of vellum.
‘This night we will all be judged and, in doing so, begin our journey towards enlightenment and a seat at the true Lord’s table,’ Winters continued, with a beckoning gesture. ‘Come and make your offering to the saviour and prepare for the new wonders that await you.’
Without hesitation all the cloaked spectators removed their face masks and, in an orderly fashion, made their way down the amphitheatre steps towards the stage. It was difficult to see all the faces clearly but Harker immediately recognized a woman he had seen back in the cellar at Spreepark. There were a couple of others who looked familiar too, and there was no doubt in his mind that these were the same group he had seen at each of the rituals, including some of the wealthy heirs Shroder had shown him pictures of back at his safe house.
Carlu now motioned for one of the guards to take his place at Harker’s side and, with one final satisfied smile, he joined the swelling group of participants along with Sofia and Mama, who looked equally pleased with themselves.
The sight of these black-robed men and women organizing themselves into a line in front of the stage was an eye-catching scene in itself, but Harker found himself entranced by the upright pod that continued to shake. Could this be real? Did the Codex have some supernatural power able to bring back the Devil himself?
An unpleasant shiver ran down Harker’s spine as the guard pressed down on his shoulder, keeping him firmly on his knees. His mind began to ache with the possibility: was he really about to meet an entity that, in some form or another, had preoccupied the minds of human beings with terror and foreboding since the dawn of time? Was a dark malevolent presence seeking to corrupt and control all life about to be made real, right here and now, presently contained within the confines of that cylindrical white pod perched less than twenty metres away from where he knelt? No matter how Harker’s mind rationalized the absurdity of such an event, he nevertheless felt a very real nervous twitching in the pit of his stomach.
With an unsteady hand, Winters pressed a small, flat circular button located halfway up the pod, and a green light began to pulsate further up, just below the still darkened viewing window. The sound of mechanical locks uncoupling could be heard, and with a pressurized creak, the front half of the object slowly swung back on it hinges releasing a strange puff of mist as it did so.
Harker leant forward and peered into the dark interior of the pod with trepidation. The uplighting to the rear of the stage only managed to make it more difficult to get a clear picture, but as he narrowed his eyes into a squint, he could finally discern something behind the white plastic sheet hiding the pod’s contents. It was no more than a shadowy outline, but even at this distance, Harker could tell it was of human form at least.
‘Come closer.’ Winters gestured to the line of robed figures before him, even as Vlad pressed his finger against the Codex page in preparation to recite the text. ‘Now meet your master and let your body absorb these words. Words written by the Dark Lord’s own divine hand, and the very scripts you have been seeking for generations, which will now imbue you with the gift that only he can bestow.’
The line of the faithful obediently took a step forward, and differing expressions of wonder now transformed them as they gazed upon the silhouette of their fallen master, who continued to stir.
‘Now make your offerings and then enjoy his protection for all eternity,’ Winters instructed. ‘Demonstrate your loyalty with the ultimate expression of your love and belief in the destiny you have created for yourselves.’
Without hesitation and with military-drilled precision, the line of believers pulled back their hoods and in unison slid their hands beneath their robes to retrieve thin steel daggers with light-brown wooden handles. Even though Harker could see a few of their hands shaking, clearly apprehensive at what they were about to embark on, they all nevertheless raised the blades to their throats just as Vlad began to read aloud from the Codex in that unintelligible language even Harker could not understand. One by one, starting from right to left, each participant drew his or her dagger sharply across their necks, slitting their throats from ear to ear. The grisly ritual moved on down the line as blood began to squirt onto the floor.
Harker watched in disgust as it pumped from their throats and descended all around them with a sickening pattering noise. As the last in line made his demonstration of loyalty, the first in line had already crumpled to the ground.
The nauseating sound of gurgling filled the amphitheatre as many clasped at their throats, blood pouring through their fingers and down onto their robes, dampening them with expanding dark stains. Some fell to their knees with fists clenched as they fought off their self-induced panic, while others simply collapsed in convulsions as their muscles tensed up sporadically in a twitching frenzy of death while life drained from their bodies. Tongues protruded rigidly in spasm and eyes rolled in either pain or the shock of committing such a final act of self-mutilation. But now all began to lie still, even though severed arties continued to pump out the sticky red fluid all around them.
All except for two.
Carlu stood above his motionless mother and daughter with the dagger still in his hand and eyes locked on the single other person still standing upright amongst the fallen. The middle-aged woman had tears rolling down her cheeks as she looked up at Winters and began to shake her head.
‘I can’t,’ she choked as her body trembled. ‘Please forgive me but I can’t do this… I was wrong. You can keep the money but I have to leave.’
This mention of money instinctively pricked up Harker’s ears but the revolting sight of the bodies still had him feeling woozy, so he put all his effort into not vomiting as the woman continued.
‘You can have everything I own but please just let me go.’
Up on the stage Vlad had meanwhile paused his recital, and Winters lowered his head in disappointment as she dropped her knife to the ground. But he then looked up again and nodded. ‘Very well, you shall forfeit everything you own, but this day will come back to haunt you when you are eventually judged. And there is no escaping that… For everyone will be judged.’
Her expression was haunted as she dropped her head in shame. In fact she was so absorbed with her own disgrace that the approaching dagger never caught her attention. That is until it was jammed into the back of her skull and a hand grabbed hold of her forehead to provide leverage as the blade was dug deep into the back of her head.
Carlu twisted the dagger clockwise, producing a scraping sound as the metal ground against the woman’s cranium. Then he pulled it out and she sank to the ground like a lead balloon.
‘Thank you, Carlu,’ said Winters, as Vlad now to begin reciting from the Codex text once more. ‘Your loyalty knows no bounds, brother, and you will be rewarded more than anyone.’
The Corsican killer looked elated by this acknowledgement and, without speaking, he looked over at Vlad and closed his eyes. Then his head swayed as if he could actually feel the precious words of the Codex passing into him. He finally raised the same bloody dagger to his neck and drew it firmly across his throat, from ear to ear, before collapsing to the floor where, after a few moments of shaking, he too went still.
The amphitheatre was in total silence and Harker managed to pull himself away from the macabre sight and turn his attention to Chloe. With nose flaring and eyes wide open, she looked more disgusted than terrified. Carter, on the other hand, had his eyes limply shut, either because he’d fainted or didn’t want to face the gruesome mass suicide that had just occurred before him.
A sudden rustling sound brought Harker’s attention back to the stage and to the shadowy figure inside the pod, who was beginning to move about more and more as every second passed.
‘Bring him to me,’ Winters demanded in a croaky voice, pointing towards Harker, as Vlad stopped reciting the Codex text and refolded the vellum page.
The guard yanked Harker to his feet and he was forced to hop-step over the line of fallen bodies, his nose wrinkling at the coppery stench of warm blood. But it wasn’t the number of dead bodies strewn out beneath him that now commanded his attention. It was the distinctive tone of voice. Winters’s voice, which had a high-pitched quality to it when he shouted. One that seemed very familiar, but even so, Harker couldn’t place it.
Any further curiosity was extinguished as he was led up onto the stage and to within just metres of the open pod, whose occupant was becoming increasingly agitated, but either unable or unwilling to pull aside the protective plastic cover shrouding the interior.
‘Welcome, Professor Alex Harker,’ Winters began, with a keenness in that husky voice. ‘I cannot tell you how pleased I am to have you here at this very moment. In fact I am immeasurably satisfied.’
The old man appeared overjoyed and Harker took a moment to glance back down at the line of bloody corpses on the floor. ‘Well, at least someone is.’
‘Oh, please, they are the most satisfied of all. The chance to offer yourself to Lucifer himself is not something to be passed up.’
Harker turned his attention back to the open pod and the shapeless figure now emitting a deep growling sound from beneath the plastic cover. ‘I don’t know what that thing is, but I highly doubt it’s the Devil.’
Winters looked offended at Harker’s scepticism and he shook his head. ‘Oh, ye of little faith… I assure you that standing just metres from you right now is Satan himself, made flesh and under my control.’
There were a lot of things Harker wanted to do at that moment but playing games was not one of them. He glanced over at Chloe and then at Carter, who now had his eyes open and was looking as defiant as was possible for someone gagged and tied to a crucifix. ‘So you’re “God”, then?’
‘I go by many names but you are welcome to call me Mr Winters.’
Harker ignored this pathetic response and instead dived into the basic question that had been on his mind since first being recruited to play in Winters’s bizarre games. ‘Just who the hell are you and what is this all about? You kidnap my friends and force me into whatever this charade is…why?’
‘I know you must feel extremely confused, Professor.’ Vlad had now joined in the conversation. ‘But don’t worry, because I assure you everything will be explained before the night is out.’
‘Really?’ Harker queried, not knowing what to believe.
‘Of course,’ Vlad assured him, and he reached over to slap the back of his hand against Harker’s chest. ‘You may not realize it yet but you are the reason all this is happening. From the search for the Codex pages to the kidnapping of your girlfriend.’ Vlad let out a booming laugh. ‘Christ, it’s even because of you that all these people sacrificed themselves.’
The statement was perplexing and, as Harker looked on in confusion, Winters raised a finger in Chloe’s direction.
‘As for your friends here, they are safe and sound. They may be a little the worse for wear, but undamaged, as I promised you.’
Carter uttered a groan beneath the linen gag stuffed in his mouth and, although he was clearly in pain, his eyes continued to radiate defiance. Chloe, on the other hand, was beginning to look immensely fearful, and Harker took the opportunity to call over to her. ‘You all right?’ he asked, and an unexpected tingling of relief swept through him simply in conducting this one-sided communication.
‘I’m afraid Dr Stanton and I have come to an agreement,’ Winters rasped. ‘She has promised not to speak until I say so, and in exchange I promised not to cut out her tongue.’ The old man shot Chloe a wink. ‘Still, I decided to do her a favour and gag her anyway, because I doubted she would be able to keep her side of the bargain. She’s quite the chatterbox, Alex, but you already know that, don’t you, lover boy?’
Harker and Chloe gazed intently at one another, with only their stares to offer comfort, as Winters now settled snugly into his chair.
‘I must congratulate you, Alex, on your sterling performance over the past few days,’ he continued, with a sarcastic smile and a slow clap of his hands. ‘You have gone above and beyond what I expected of you, and the fact that you made it all the way to this island, and to me, is a feat in itself, given the contempt you are now held in by your former friends.’
There were so many questions Harker wanted to blurt out, but he said nothing because it was clear that Winters wanted – no, needed – to explain it for himself, and was now taking great pleasure in doing so.
‘Your Templar friends, once your allies, want you dead. Your name is now high on Interpol’s most-wanted list after you absconded from Mont-Saint-Michel, leaving a dead helicopter pilot in your wake, amongst others. And meanwhile the person you love most in the world is here by my side and in my clutches.’ Winters looked over and raised his eyebrows up and down slowly. ‘I have no doubt we can find a good use for her, once our business here is concluded.’
The salacious insinuation already had Harker springing forward before the sound of something metallic clicked into place and a thin blade pressed up against his throat, stopping him in his tracks. He glanced to his side to find Vlad with his arm raised towards him and the almost foot-long blade protruding from under his sleeve and now held tightly against Harker’s windpipe.
‘What!’ Harker gasped as he recognized the unique piece of weaponry, and a cold sweat began to form on his brow along with an increasing feeling of dread. The arm-sword was a spring-activated blade strapped to a person’s forearm, which shot out above the top of one’s hand and thus was used as an extension of the arm. It was deadly if you knew how to wield it, and there was only one group of people who still used it.
‘You’re Templars!’ he gasped.
Winters laughed so loud that he began to cough, till he drew a white handkerchief from his pocket and mopped up the thin line of drool seeping from one corner of his mouth. ‘Hold on, I want to enjoy this,’ he croaked, wiping the last remaining drops. ‘Alex Harker, the confusion and fear you must be feeling right at this moment is extremely heart-warming and satisfying to me, and I don’t mind saying so.’ He placed the soiled handkerchief back in his pocket, closed his eyes and raised his face to the concave ceiling up above. ‘How wonderful it is to have you here before me, with your life in tatters, your friends wanting to kill you and everyone else wishing they had never known you – as I am sure Mr Carter here would agree.’
Carter uttered a muffled groan as Winters continued to revel in his achievement.
‘This is exactly how I imagined it, with you sporting that dumb, lost look and knowing that everything you are and possess now belongs to me. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Professor Alex Harker, a man with no future and now at his lowest ebb. Truly a sight for sore eyes, for mine at any rate, thanks…to you. Tell me, Alex, before we get going, would you like to meet the Devil in person?’
Harker said nothing, because it really didn’t matter. Winters was obviously going to do whatever he wanted, and offering a reply would just mean receiving more of the man’s inane and insulting banter.
‘Of course you would,’ Winters continued, wheeling himself backwards as one of the guards made his way to the pod and gripped the strip of plastic covering. ‘Everyone loves meeting celebrities – and they don’t get more famous than this one, do they?’
That familiar tone in Winters’s voice was back, but as hard as he tried, Harker could still not place it. As the guard unzipped the covering, he focused his attention on what lay behind it.
With it now completely unzipped, the guard slowly pulled the covering back to reveal the face of a man squinting into the light. He was naked except for a pair of plain white linen boxer shorts, and his arms and legs were held in place by thick rubber restraints attached to the interior of the capsule. His pale white body glistened with sweat and a feeding tube inserted down his throat was held in place by thick tape across one cheek. The man’s torso was covered in multiple thick scars resulting from a whole host of wounds and, as the guard pulled away the tape and gently tugged at the mouth nozzle, a foot of tubing slid out from his throat, causing the prisoner to cough wildly.
Long white strands of damp hair hung from his scalp and Harker already knew who he was looking at even before the eyelids fluttered open. The realization had Harker slumping back against Vlad’s chest and, as he gazed into those unique pupils, his mind became fuzzy and blank even as the impossible was made real. ‘But you’re dead!’
Sebastian Brulet, previously Grand Master of the Knights Templar, stared back through those distinctive star-crossed pupils of his and managed a weak smile before collapsing against his restraints. He hung there for a few moments before the guard released him and then laid him out on the floor face down, as Harker, his mind now racing, turned to look at Winters, who had a gigantic grin plastered across his face.
‘Now do you know who I am?’ Winters asked as he curled a finger towards him. ‘Come closer, Alex,’ he continued and, at a wave of his hand, Vlad drew his arm-sword away from Harker’s neck and pushed him closer.
‘Closer,’ Winters said, as Harker was thrust down until he was merely centimetres from the old man’s face. ‘Tell me, my friend, do recognize anyone?’
Harker stared down into Winters’s cold dark eyes and, although there was something familiar, he still could not grasp it. It was like one of those TV pranks where a celebrity dons a face mask and pretends to be someone else. You cannot for a moment recognize them, but when you look directly into their eyes, there is something familiar you just can’t place, and so it now was for Harker. He spent the next few seconds scanning Winters’s pupils, and was about to shake his head when something clicked. He wasn’t sure what it was, maybe a flickering of the eyelid or the colouring of the irises, but in a single instant, and as his synapses sparked and made the connection, he suddenly knew.
Harker jolted backwards and into the waiting arms of Vlad, who once again slipped the arm-sword blade under his chin and held him fast as Winters began to smile and raised his arm and extended a crooked index finger out in front of him.
‘I see you.’
With his mind buzzing, Harker glanced over at Chloe, who had a knowing look on her face and clearly knew already what he had just discovered. Suddenly so much of what had happened during the past few days began to fall into place and to make sense.
But that was impossible, it could not be. Yet here he was, in some form, and as Harker tried to get his head around it, the initials of Jacob Winters’s name lit up in his head brightly and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach. ‘J.W.,’ he murmured, struggling to reconcile the fact that Brulet was still alive after being thought dead for over six months, but this…this was beyond crazy.
John Wilcox, one-time pope of the Catholic Church and also head chieftain of the Magi, glared up at Harker with a grimace, then he clamped his brown teeth together firmly. ‘You didn’t really think you would get away from me that easily, did you?’