The sounds of laughter and restaurant music filled the air as Harker made his way up the narrow stone street in Mont-Saint-Michel. A light snowfall had blanketed the small island commune hours earlier, and with it the narrow walkways leading up to the Benedictine abbey towering above. The Mont was an already a magical-looking place, and this white dusting of powdered ice only added to its mystique, even if Harker felt uneasy due to his earlier and rather unpleasant encounters on this rock. Up ahead of him the glassed-paned wooden door of a small restaurant, Le Mouton Blanc, opened suddenly, and an attractive woman stepped out wearing a halter-neck, knee-length pewter evening dress, and waved.
‘Where have you been?’ Chloe Stanton asked in a hushed tone as she closed the door behind her and made her way down towards him as fast as her high heels would allow.
It was freezing, and even in his blue Armani single-breasted suit and tie, Harker was feeling the chill, yet Chloe barely batted an eyelid.
‘You said you’d be right behind me, and that was almost half an hour ago.’
Harker drew her towards him and wrapped the left side of his suit jacket around her as best he could. ‘Just went for a short walk,’ he replied. ‘This place is quite beautiful when you don’t have people chasing after you with assault rifles.’
Chloe stroked his chest and offered her most supportive smile as she began to feel the effects of the frosty air. She quickly slipped her arm around his waist and tugged him gently in the direction of the restaurant. ‘You were so very brave,’ she said with a hint of sarcasm.
‘I was, actually.’
‘Yes, you were, and you’re my hero,’ Chloe replied sweetly, before she gave him a loving kiss on the lips. ‘Now can we go inside, please, before your bride-to-be dies of exposure?’
Two months had passed since Wilcox’s demise at the hand of his own creation, and in all that time Harker had not heard once from either of the Brulet brothers. Even David Carter had dropped off the map after being whisked away by helicopter during the island battle, and apart from a letter Harker had received stating that he was alive and well with a promise that he would be in contact very soon, he had heard nothing since.
By the time Harker and Tristan Brulet had returned topside from Wilcox’s twisted idea of a laboratory the fight was all but over and the last few remaining Magi guards, realizing that the battle was lost, had turned the guns on themselves in a group suicide. Another waste of human life, as Harker saw it, dressed up as a code of honour, albeit a twisted one.
After the gunfire fell silent the Templar soldiers had immediately, on the orders of Tristan Brulet, been sent to release those hundred poor lab rats being held below ground. It had taken some time to break into the sealed human zoo but eventually the captives were set free and boarded onto a fleet of private jets that had begun landing at the runway strip, at Brulet’s command.
This whole evacuation had taken some twelve hours in total, with jets constantly coming and going, and it was during this time that the body of Harker’s pilot, Frank, had been found. The poor man had been strung up in one of the runway hangars, tortured and then summarily shot. With little or no information to disclose except that Harker had been dropped off on the island, the only hope was that his torture had been quick. Brulet had promised to take care of what family the man had, but apart from that there was little that could be done, and Harker still carried with him a real sense of guilt about the whole thing. If it hadn’t been for him, then Frank would still be alive, but then without Frank a lot more people could have died.
The remaining Templar soldiers had secured every corner of the island in search of information, and much had been found pertaining to the Magi and their activities. The island itself had been owned privately since the nineteen-thirties, and from the discovered records it emerged the laboratory had been initially built in the late forties and updated through the decades that followed. This island had unquestionably served as the main site of research and development when perfecting the cloning process that would go on to create the Christ child, as well as other things. The disks that were recovered contained thousands upon thousands of gigabytes of data covering over sixty years of experimentation, and only time would reveal what other atrocious experiments the Magi had pursued.
There were some positives, though, with the finding of data relating to the regeneration compound: doses of the compound itself and finally details of bank accounts in Switzerland and the Cayman Islands containing almost half a trillion pounds. The money had been unimportant as far as Harker had been concerned, but he had been more than pleased when he saw a news report concerning the anonymous deposit of over four hundred billion dollars spread across charities around the world. The figure was so large that the UK and US tax agencies began to demand an overhaul of the laws pertaining to tax-exempt charitable status, and the arguments now raged on all sides. As to the fate of the remaining money Harker had no idea about, but he had faith in the Templars to do the right thing, although paying off his own mortgage seemed to him a good place to start.
Tristan Brulet had stayed on the island until the last released patient had been evacuated before leaving via helicopter to see to his brother and begin his recuperation. Over the hours, they had both set the record straight, and by the end there was no animosity on the part of the Templars, especially since the Illuminismo had now been taken back into their protective care. Wilcox’s kidnapping of Chloe and Harker’s forced servitude to the madman had been accepted by Tristan Brulet as extenuating circumstances and, given that his brother had now been returned to him, he was more than gracious when it came to closing the book on the whole tawdry affair. He had also disclosed that between William Havers’s interrogation of Dean Lercher, which revealed Harker’s intended destination to be Wilcox’s island, and with Shroder’s discovery of Jacob Winters’s true identity, the Templars had been able to assemble the rescue party which had arrived on cue.
The Grand Master had been far less willing, though, to disclose or even discuss anything pertaining to Wilcox’s claim of Harker’s father being involved with the Templars, but the fact that he insisted only his brother should talk on the subject gave some credence to the Magi’s assertion. The idea that his family was of Templar blood produced in Harker as much anger as it did confusion, and he had wrestled considerably with the notion over the past few months. Anger because his father had not brought him into the organisation as was the right of all Templar members and confusion for the very same reason. Why? Coupling that with the lack of communication from the Templars since leaving the island, and even Shroder’s unwillingness to return his messages, the ensuing months for Harker had been filled with a sense of tremendous loss and disappointment.
Things had not been made much better after a somewhat fractious reunion with Doggie shortly after arriving back in the UK. The dean had been furious because of his ‘shoddy treatment’, as he put it, at the hands of John Shroder. But what had really pissed him off was his violent interrogation with the Templar, William Havers, which had left him bruised and with a small scar on his cheek. Doggie had rattled on about this unpleasant incident but, as the weeks passed, he began to show a degree of pride in his tiny scar. So much so that he had invented a story for his friends and peers involving an attempted mugging that he had valiantly fought off, leaving him with this battle wound as a memento.
As for Chloe, after being cut down from her own personal cross amid the firefight, she had refused to be bundled onto the waiting helicopter with Carter, and insisted furiously – as only Chloe could – that she was not leaving until she saw Harker face-to-face. In fact by the time he reached her over an hour later, she was still in a heated discussion concerning his whereabouts.
Their reunion was the best part of that entire nightmarish few days Wilcox had planned for them, and perhaps with the adrenalin rush of the surrounding events, he had asked her to marry him on the spot. Of course, like any rational man, he had regretted that in the coming weeks, but the anxiety over such a commitment had soon passed and, as he looked down at her now, patting his chest impatiently, he knew it had been the right decision.
‘You ready to do this or what? Chloe asked, as another shiver rippled through her. ‘They’re all here, including a few unexpected faces.’ With his curiosity now brimming, Harker, with Chloe clasped still underneath his jacket, guided them both over to Le Mouton Blanc and went inside.
The warm air inside the restaurant felt pleasantly smothering, and as he took in the sight of the crowd of people all enjoying themselves, he immediately felt at ease. The place was a buzz of activity with couples joking, laughing, hugging and generally enjoying themselves. He instantly recognized Tristan Brulet and William Havers over in the corner, who only tipped their imaginary hats towards him, but it was the sight of the round-faced man smiling in his direction, wearing a dapper silver double-breasted suit, that had him grinning from ear to ear.
David Carter strode over directly with a cool suavity in his step and inflicted a tight bear hug that had Harker gasping. ‘Alex, you beautiful bastard,’ the ex-don proclaimed as he released his grip and then gestured towards Chloe. ‘I was just telling your beautiful wife-to-be that she looks a damn sight more composed than when we last met.’
‘Yes, David, but not hanging from a cross while surrounded by armed gunmen tends to have that effect,’ she replied, affectionately touching his forearm as Harker now grabbed the other man by his shoulders.
‘Where have you been?’
‘You got my letter, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, but it didn’t say much, David.’
Carter was now looking duly apologetic. ‘Sorry, Alex, but it has been something of hectic time. However, suffice to say I am alive and extremely motivated, but as to the reason, I promised someone else I would let them…enlighten you.’
Carter’s reticence was intriguing, but the fact that the man looked so well was enough to assuage any curiosity Harker had – for the moment.
‘Wait a minute.’ Carter turned his attention to someone behind him and called out, ‘John, he’s here.’
Harker peered past Carter’s portly frame to see John Shroder making his way over, wearing a knowing smile.
‘You got the invitation, I see?’ Shroder grasped Harker’s hand and gave it a firm shake.
‘It arrived last week, John, but apart from mentioning your name, it only had a place and a time.’
‘As it should have, Alex. We Templars are a secretive bunch and you, better than anyone, should know that.’
Before Harker could reply, Carter slipped his arms between them both. ‘Quite an adventure we’ve been on, gentlemen, or should I now say “special agent compadres”?’
The sly look in Carter’s eyes had Harker laughing, whereas Shroder merely shook his head in embarrassment.
‘“Gentlemen” will be fine, David, and let’s not get ahead of ourselves, shall we?’ the MI6 agent said with a snort.
‘Of course, of course, but I still say we put together a bloody fine plan and executed it like pros, wouldn’t you say?’ Carter countered excitedly. ‘I have a few tales to tell you, Alex, including a rather embarrassing moment on a train when I mistook a conductor for a—’
‘Hold on a second, David,’ Harker interrupted, and he pulled Shroder to one side as Carter began to beckon over a waitress holding a tray of champagne in narrow crystal flute glasses. ‘Where the hell have you been? I must have left forty messages for you.’
‘Sorry, Alex, but everything’s been up in the air until recently, what with Sebastian coming back from the dead and the Templar infighting, which I am glad to say has come to an end.’
Harker’s initial elation was quickly turning to one of feeling ostracized. ‘Not up in the air for David, though, or for you.’
Shroder’s body sagged and he placed an arm around Harker’s shoulders. ‘Don’t be angry. I know you must feel out of the loop, but I promise you everything will be explained.’
‘Yeah, by who?’
‘By me,’ a voice interrupted, and Harker turned to see the one person he had wanted to see most since walking through the restaurant door.
Sebastien Brulet stood before him, wearing a charcoal-grey Savile Row pinstripe suit and black steel-rimmed aviator sunglasses, as Carter, Chloe and Shroder quietly moved aside. As the two men stared at each other, the whole restaurant became hushed. Brulet stared at Harker with a blank expression for a few moments, then a great big smile formed on his face.
‘Alex Harker…my friend and saviour.’
The room erupted into rapturous applause and Brulet gently embraced his friend and gave him a warm, heartfelt hug. ‘We do get ourselves into some scrapes, don’t we, Alex?’ he whispered.
‘As always, that’s an understatement, Sebastian,’ Harker whispered back. As the applause receded, the two men pulled apart, now grinning at each other.
‘I know you must have plenty of questions,’ Brulet continued as Carter began to pass around the champagne flutes. ‘Let’s take a little walk, shall we?’
Before Harker could agree, a hand patted him on the shoulder from behind, and he looked back to see someone who made his jaw literally drop open in surprise.
Dean Thomas Lercher stood there proudly with a glass of champagne in one hand and a monocle held languidly in the other. He was dressed head to toe in black-tie splendour. ‘How do I look?’
Harker almost burst out laughing, but he restrained himself as Chloe slipped her hand around the dean’s arm.
‘I think he looks rather distinguished,’ she remarked with a subtle wink.
‘Doggie…I mean Thomas, what are you doing here?’
‘I thought that after all the years of being such a help to you and the Templars, it was only right that Dean Lercher be recognized,’ Brulet intervened, offering a gracious bow to the bow-tied dean. ‘He’s thoroughly proven his ability to hold a secret, and as such I would like to appoint him an associate…if you agree?’
Harker did not need further convincing, for Doggie had proven himself time and time again, and all he had ever wanted was to be part of the whole Templar cloak-and-dagger thing, as he viewed it. ‘Absolutely. I can’t think of anyone more worthy.’
Harker was handed a champagne flute and, as the small group of six prepared to raise a toast, he leant over discreetly towards Doggie. ‘You look like you’re going to meet the Queen!’
‘The invitation said “smart dress”, and it’s not like I know what the secretive and highly wealthy wear, do I?’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Because the invite strictly instructed not to – a surprise and all that.’
‘Fair enough,’ Harker replied, as they now raised their glasses, ‘but do yourself a favour…ditch the monocle.’
‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Brulet began, ‘a toast to family, wherever we may find them.’
The six of them clicked glasses and, after a healthy first sip, the banter began. Brulet soon put down his own glass and leant towards Harker. ‘Let’s take that walk, shall we?’
Harker handed his half-full glass to Chloe, who gave him an overdramatic kiss, and then he began to follow Brulet out of the restaurant, pausing only as he passed Carter on the way. There was something that, no matter how inconsequential, had been niggling him for months. ‘What became of that electric cattle prod Vlad threatened you with?’ he whispered.
‘Officially nothing, because it was just an idle threat,’ Carter whispered in reply, then he pulled a grim face, ‘but unofficially I had to use an inflatable doughnut to sit on for weeks afterwards… The Preparation H has helped though.’
Harker made a pained grimace. ‘We’ll talk later,’ he said, then joined Brulet, who was waiting for him in the narrow street outside.
Side by side the two men began to make their way through the winding, snow-covered streets up towards the main abbey on the summit of the island.
‘I owe you a great debt, Alex – you saved my life.’
Harker shook his head. ‘No, Sebastian, I must thank you. Chloe and I would never have made it out of Macuira National Park if not for you.’
‘I almost didn’t make it out either,’ Brulet reflected with sadness in his voice. ‘I cannot tell you how terrible it was to go from feeling overjoyed at having made my escape only to proceed from the frying pan into the fire…Wilcox’s fire.’
‘I can’t even begin to imagine what that must have been like for you.’
‘It’s really difficult to describe being heavily drugged then woken up and tortured, then drugged and awoken and tortured, over and over again. There were moments when I would have given anything to be allowed to just die. That man Wilcox had an anger and an instinct for revenge inside him that knew no bounds. It’s been two months since then, and I still find myself waking up suddenly in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and screaming in sheer bloody terror.’
‘I’m so sorry, Sebastian.’
‘Don’t be, my friend. I am still alive and Wilcox is finished and although I will carry the mental scars for a long time to come, it does get better with each passing day.’
They continued in silence now, navigating the streets and steps until they reached the abbey. Brulet came to a halt outside the same wooden door Harker had entered when being taken to the Templar vault, during his last and highly eventful visit. Brulet placed a key in the lock and then headed inside and on to the fingerprint ID, where he placed his hand on the glass scanner.
‘We’re going to the vault?’ Harker enquired as the lift arrived and its doors opened.
‘Yes, there’s something I want to show you.’
The trip down did not take long, and by the time the doors opened and they stepped out, Harker was ready to ask a question that he wanted – no, needed – to be answered.
‘Sebastian…was my father a Templar?’
Brulet ignored the query, making his way down onto the vault floor. ‘Since the Templars were first formed, we have stored every manuscript and artefact, every item that has ever come into our possession. Our storage vaults have changed location over the centuries, but nothing has ever been let go. In fact everything we ever collected has been carefully restored and lovingly protected. When I got back from serving as Wilcox’s torture toy and I learnt of the Illuminismo’s theft, I began to wonder why.’
Harker wasn’t sure exactly what Brulet meant, but he took a guess. ‘Why they stole it, you mean?’
‘No.’ Brulet raised his hands towards the thousands of items cramming the vault’s numerous shelves. ‘Why do we keep all this? We don’t really use it and, to be honest, I only ever come down here if I want to either update or refer to the Illuminismo.’ He now pointed along the nearest aisle and to the stack of Illuminismo volumes neatly placed there, having been returned to their rightful places. ‘Seems like a waste, doesn’t it?’
Brulet began running a finger across the shelf nearest. ‘This vault holds mysteries from human history dating back two millennia and further, and yet here its contents sit year in year out, doing absolutely nothing. It seems their only real purpose is to be targeted by thieves, a prize for someone like John Wilcox, wouldn’t you agree?’
Harker made his way to Brulet’s side and gazed across the rows of priceless antiquities. ‘I’m an archaeologist, Sebastian, so you know I do.’
‘Good, because I want to create a new division within the Templar organization, and I want you to head it up.’
‘Doing what?’
‘Doing what you always do best…chasing the truth.’
Harker felt immediately in awe at the idea. The Templars had always seemed extremely protective and cagey whenever he had asked to even take a peek inside one of their vaults, and now here was its Grand Master offering him the keys to the kingdom. ‘What exactly would you have me do?’
Brulet turned around to give him a firm slap on his back. ‘This collection predates the birth of Christ, and it doesn’t just contain religious items. It holds every conceivable piece of lost history imaginable. From the mysticism of the Druids and the witch covens of the Dark Ages to the enduring legends of monsters and sorcery, it’s all here. Don’t get me wrong. I doubt that you will come across anything supernatural like the Codex pages purporting to be imbued with the power of the Devil made real, etc. etc.’ Brulet gave a fake yawn. ‘But if there is something to be discovered, this is where you’ll find it.’
Harker now felt a further ripple of excitement throughout his body and, witnessing his reaction, Brulet continued to explain his proposal. ‘Your friend David Carter has proved himself to be an avid historian, and highly knowledgeable on many subjects. You should know he has been a guest – a willing one, I might add – of the Templars since you were last together. And after getting to know him, I feel he could be of real benefit to you in this endeavour…’
Brulet paused as Harker raised his eyebrows. David was knowledgeable, there was no doubting that, but hardly a man suited for the field.
‘I mean, of course, as a curator of this and all the other vaults we possess, which is why I want to make him an official member of the Templar Order.’
Harker was taken aback by the suggestion, because he himself was only an associate. ‘But I’m not even a Templar, only an associate like Doggie…now.’
Brulet looked serious as he placed his hands in front of him and, for the first time since Harker had met him, the man actually looked…nervous.
‘You asked me earlier whether your father was a Templar, and I can tell you now he was.’
Harker had been speculating for months about the truth Wilcox had laid on him, and had considered all the possibilities, but having Brulet say it out loud now was shocking.
‘Please allow me to explain.’ Brulet raised his hand in a calming manner. ‘I need you to know that it was your father’s expressed wish that you should not know – for your own safety. I knew your father personally, and I gave him that promise on my honour. But that seems to be a moot point since John Wilcox let the cat out of the bag, doesn’t it?’
Harker could have felt mad at having been kept in the dark, but he didn’t, and instead felt an insatiable curiosity and a need to know the truth. ‘Is that why you allowed me access to the Templars’ world so readily?’
‘Yes,’ Brulet replied. ‘And it is also the reason I have always sought to protect you with everything at my disposal.’
These revelations had Harker’s mind swimming with questions and he rubbed at his eyes as Brulet continued.
‘You asked me how you could do the job if you are only an associate, Alex… An honourable reaction, but in fact I asked you because you already are a Templar…by blood. Your father was a brave man and he played an instrumental role within the Knights Templar.’
‘What did he do?’
Brulet thought about it for a moment, then made his way down to the Illuminismo. He dug out the volume he sought, then brought it back and placed it in Harker’s hands. ‘Perhaps you should see it explained in your father’s own words.’
Harker flipped open the precious book and began to scan through its pages. ‘Which parts pertain to my father?’ he asked eventually as Brulet headed back to the main lift and pressed the call button.
‘The whole thing.’
Harker stared at him dumbfounded, because there must have been over a hundred pages in this volume. He turned to look over at Brulet, who had now moved inside the lift.
‘You should have some privacy. You only need to read the first couple of pages or so to realize what he did for the Templars, and you can read the rest any other time. Now, when you’re done, just press the buzzer and come rejoin the party. It’s being held in your honour, by the way, so don’t be too long.’ Brulet lowered his sunglasses to reveal his unique cross-shaped pupils, and he then winked. ‘Welcome home, Alex.’
The lift doors closed and Harker was left alone in the vault with nothing but the calming hum of the temperature-control unit for company. He looked down again and opened the book at the first page and, with an apprehensive smile and a tear forming in his eyes due to nothing else but sheer excitement, he drew a deep breath and did what he had been asked to do. He began to read.