Apocalypsis 1.08 Seth (2 page)

LVIII
ONE YEAR EARLIER …

June 26, 2010, Via Palermo, Rome

A
s a child I often wondered what miracles life might hold for me, but I never thought the day would come that a Pope would make me a cup of tea.«

The man in the black suit watched in amazement as John Paul III poured hot, but no longer boiling, water into a small porcelain pot.

»You see!« replied a cheerful John Paul III. »When it comes to miracles, we are still the go-to guys!«

A weak scent of Green Sencha Tea wafted through the tidy kitchen. The man in the black suit looked around. His eyes seemed to be constantly on the move, scanning and scrutinizing everything around him. He was significantly shorter than the Pope and looked almost frail next to the German man. But John Paul III knew that this impression was deceptive.

»A beautiful apartment. Do you come here often?«

»Unfortunately, not often enough. A Pope does not have a personal life. But every now and then I allow myself these little escapes into normality. Even though it is just an illusion.«

»We all need our little illusions,« his guest replied diplomatically. »As long as we don’t allow them to deceive us.«

»And what are your favorite illusions?« asked John Paul III.

The Japanese man in the black suit gave him a thin smile. »That a man like me can have friends.«

The Pope gave the Japanese man an earnest look. »A sincere man is never without friends.«

»How can you tell whether I am sincere or not?«

»I can’t. I am just beginning to find out.«

The Pope carried the tray with the teapot and the cups into the living room of his small, secret apartment on Via Palermo and offered his guest a seat. One week earlier, the office of Takeru Nakashima had unexpectedly asked for a private audience with the Pope. Usually, the office of the Pope declined such requests with a polite letter because at the beginning of his papacy, John Paul III had made it perfectly clear that he had no intention of granting every politician’s or industrialist’s request for a private audience, no matter how powerful or rich they were.

However, Nakashima’s request had caught his attention. He had already himself considered contacting the Japanese billionaire, who was so publicity-shy that there was no current photo and nothing was known about his personal life. All John Paul III knew about the Japanese man was that he was around the same age as him. Like Laurenz, Nakashima came from a humble family background and, with intelligence and the willingness to lead, he had become a billionaire. His company, Nakashima Industries, produced steel, built cars, developed high-tech systems and pharmaceutical products. In addition to this, a few years ago he had founded the Nakashima Group, a company that was involved in international finances and owned high-class properties and luxury hotels all over the world. Even though Takeru Nakashima was »only« number eleven on the list of the wealthiest people in the world, with estimated assets of about 25 billion dollars, he had the reputation of being enormously aggressive and hungry to increase his fortune. And he was known to be a decided atheist. A declared enemy of all world religions. His company built nondenominational schools and universities in developing countries and financed numerous international foundations that all had the same goal: to convince mankind of the fact that all religions were not only redundant but,as Nakashima believed, also the source of great danger.

If this man asked for a private audience with the Pope which, according to the request, was just because he was in Rome for business, then it was definitely not because he wanted to kiss the Ring of the Fisherman. Officially, John Paul III had informed Nakashima’s office that a private audience was not possible for scheduling reasons. At the same time, he had personally called Nakashima and invited him to a private meeting on Via Palermo.

And now this man, who hated nothing more than religion, was sitting in the secret private apartment of the head of the Catholic Church, sipping his cup of green tea politely. His driver and his bodyguard were downstairs in the backyard with Mario, who had, as usual, driven the Pope to Via Palermo in his old Alfa.

Takeru Nakashima. A short and friendly man with a gray crew cut. But John Paul III would not allow himself to be deceived by the unimpressive appearance of his guest, because the attitude of the man exuded strength and determination. His eyes registered everything and he always held eye contact. He had hard and fearless eyes. But while John Paul III had been preparing the tea, he had detected a spark of curiosity in these eyes that had given him hope.

»The tea is excellent,« Nakashima said. »Have you ever been to Japan?«

»I don’t mean to be impolite,« John Paul III replied, »but I have only very limited time for these private moments.«

»I understand. You need to be back in your palatial prison before your entourage notices you are gone.«

»Exactly. So I would suggest, considering we are both men of the same age who don’t need to blow smoke, that we cut right to the chase. Nakashima San, what do you want from me?«

The Japanese man placed his teacup back on the table and looked at the Pope with hard eyes.

»I want to help you. You, the Church, the Vatican.«

No answer could have surprised John Paul III more.

»You want to help us? How?«

Nakashima cleared his throat.

»As you probably know, I am an atheist by conviction. I truly am. I believe neither in God nor in any kind of creation, neither in karma nor in reincarnation. Religion has never meant anything to me. On the contrary, in my opinion, religion is one of the greatest dangers to mankind. An ancient virus humanity has been suffering from for millennia and that will one day destroy it.«

»But isn’t this a dangerously self-aggrandizing attitude? To presume that the entire world is suffering from a virus except you and a few others?«

»Maybe. But we all have our convictions and need to stand up for them.«

»And what kind of convictions are we talking about? What do you believe in, Nakashima San?«

»Wealth,« was the billionaire’s plain answer, as he took another sip from his tea. »I believe in wealth. Wealth means health and security. And that is what people really want. Happiness. Without wealth, there is no happiness.«

»Happiness equals wealth? That’s the magic formula?«

»Yes. And don’t tell me about the happiness that lies in poverty. I don’t want to hear that, not from you.«

John Paul III thought for a while.

»And yet, you want to help the Church. I was just wondering… does the Church really need your help?«

Nakashima leaned back in his armchair. »That’s up to you to decide.«

The Pope gave his guest a thoughtful look. The silence between the two men grew and grew, enveloping them like an impenetrable cocoon. And then Nakashima rose abruptly from his chair.

»I think I should leave now. Your official duties are calling you. Thank you for the tea.«

»Wait,« said the Pope. »Please.« Nakashima sat back down.

»The world is on the brink,« John Paul III finally continued. »Wars, epidemics and famine afflict two thirds of mankind and the remaining third profits from it and lives in apparent wealth. But this wealth, too, is nothing but an illusion. The global financial crisis affected the entire world. And now it has also hit the Catholic Church. The numbers are alarming. A merciless war is raging in the financial markets. The Vatican Bank is under enormous pressure. Someone is attacking us and there is nothing we can do. If this doesn’t stop, we will be bankrupt in a year. At first I thought that it was you and made some careful inquiries about you and your companies. But without any satisfactory results. And now you show up here, out of nowhere, offering your ›help.‹ You have to forgive me but this looks to me like an invitation to surrender.«

»No,« Nakashima said and seemed almost flattered, »but, like you, I have been following some disturbing developments in the international financial markets that have been going on for quite some time now. A group that is so far unknown is trying to shift the balance of power in the world. At first I suspected the involvement of certain governments or the Vatican. But the truth of the matter seems to be that the Vatican is the main target of this group. In a word: someone is trying to ruin the Vatican financially.«

»This is true,« John Paul III said with a sigh. »But isn’t that exactly what you want?«

Nakashima folded his slender hands. »Certainly, my long-term goal is the dissolution of the Church, and the dissolution of all other religions. But I am not naïve. I know that this is a process that might take centuries. However, the Vatican’s sudden bankruptcy, which is what seems to be on the cards, would threaten the stability of the entire world. And I cannot allow this to happen. Stability is the only thing that guarantees global economic growth and wealth. And when I say this, I mean wealth for
all
people. This is why I am offering you my cooperation. Limited cooperation against a mutual enemy.«

John Paul III leaned forward. »Who is it?«

Nakashima hesitated. Then he took a deep breath.

»It is a consortium of companies by the name of PRIOR that seems to hold enormous gold reserves, which they use to manipulate the gold price. Behind this consortium is a group that calls itself the Light-Bearers.«

The Pope twitched as if an electric shock had hit him. This brief but strong reaction did not slip Nakashima’s attention.

»Does this ring a bell with you?«

»Yes and no. But please, continue!«

»No. Now it is your turn.«

John Paul III gave a sigh. »Does the name Nag Hammadi ring a bell with you?«

»To my knowledge, this is a small city in Egypt where they found a collection of early Christian writings in the 1940s.«

»Your knowledge is excellent! These Nag Hammadi Codices comprise fragments of various Gnostic treatises, hermetic and esoteric writings, and apocryphal gospels. These are the gospels which were not included in the Bible. To make a long story short: the Codices also contain the so-called ›Gospel of the Egyptians,‹ which was written in the Coptic language. It is also known as the ›Holy Book of the Great Invisible Spirit.‹ It tells the story of Seth, the third son of Adam who belongs to the light forces in the lower heavens and who is later incarnated in Jesus Christ. A rather hermetic text about the arrival of the savior in the world in fourteen ways, fourteen eons. In this book, Seth is also called the light-bearer. There is a connection between this book and another Nag Hammadi text, the so-called ›Apocalypse of Adam,‹ which Adam is said to have told to his son Seth. In this writing, ›the light-bearers,‹ or Seth’s descendants, so to speak, play a decisive role as judges at the end of days.«

Nakashima had listened with interest. »This makes sense,« he said with an earnest expression on his face. »A group of heretics devoted to these apocryphal gospels tries to destroy the Catholic Church that has in their view suppressed them for centuries. Probably for good reason.«

John Paul III furrowed his brow. »Don’t you think that this is very far-fetched?« he said with a gesture of annoyance.

»Au contraire. It confirms my suspicion that the goal of these ›light-bearers‹ is more than just financial profit. Which means that it is not enough to fight them with the sword of the international financial system.«

»And which other sword do you have in mind?«

»That is something that you know better than I. The Vatican is still a world power. Use this power.«

»In any case, how did you get all this information about these ›light-bearers?‹ The Vatican maintains cordial relations with the secret-service agencies of several nations, but not even they were able to help me. Or they didn’t want to help.«

»Well, let’s put it this way,« Nakashima said, »I have certain connections and possibilities. This is also how I have ascertained where the group has its headquarters.«

Burning with excitement, the Pope leaned forward. »Tell me!«

Nakashima shook his head. »First we need to talk about the conditions of our cooperation.«

»Of course,« John Paul III said bitterly. »After all, you are a businessman. Everything has its price. Well then, what are your demands?«

»Firstly, I demand absolute candor. Your word is good enough for me. Secondly, I demand absolute secrecy. No games, no secret-service agencies, no press releases, not a word to anyone. This cooperation remains between you and me.«

»You have my word. What else?«

»If I help you to save your Church from ruin, I want something in return: that you do something for the world. Something that has permanent and lasting effects. I do not expect you to deny everything that you and a billion other people still believe at this point in time. Like all other religions, the virus Christianity will degenerate and disappear anyway. But I want you to set a clear example. I want you and your Church to make a true sacrifice. I want to see you do something that has never been done before. I leave it up to you what this is. But you have to do it soon.«

LIX

May 15, 2011, Montpellier

H
ow can I help you today, Mademoiselle?« The librarian in the main library of Montpellier recognized Maria right away.

»I need everything that you can find about morphogenetic fields,« Maria replied, as she looked over her shoulder to make sure that no one was listening or had followed her. Since leaving the little hotel, she could not shake off the feeling that someone was watching her every step.

»Morpho… what?«

Maria wrote the term on a slip of paper. A little later, she carried a huge pile of scientific textbooks and magazines into the reading room of the library. At one point, the librarian heard Maria give an exasperated groan, and she saw that she pushed quite a number of the books aside.

After about two hours of research, Maria returned the books and left the library with a piece of paper covered with notes about a topic that was either ignored by the natural sciences or simply denied. Like miracles. Or visions.

The feeling of being watched increased when she stepped outside. She stood in the square in front of the library and looked at the Pan sculpture that Peter had found so unsettling. The Pan figure seemed to warn her. But this warning came too late. Maria scanned the busy square for anyone who looked suspicious, but she couldn’t see anyone. She followed her instincts and stayed close to larger groups of people. When she spotted a free cab, she whistled with her fingers and asked the driver to take her to the marina. And she thought about Peter the whole time. About the little things that she had noticed. Like the fact that he was always twisting and turning his head to release muscle tensions in his neck with an ugly cracking sound. The skeptical wrinkle that appeared on his forehead when something bothered him. What he had said about her. His feeling of being lost, which sometimes turned into a shadow casting over his face, as if he were remembering something that he had lost a long time ago. The little laughter lines around his eyes. The way he grinned when he teased her. The little hollow at his throat that seemed so soft and so endlessly vulnerable to her. And she thought about the kiss. The completely meaningless and absurd kiss that she would frankly confess and forget as soon as she and Peter were reunited. If they ever were reunited. The more Maria thought about Peter, the more certain she became that something awful had happened to him on the island. That he would not return. This certainty, together with her own desire, which she would also have to confess, produced in her a pain that was almost physical. She began to feel nauseous and her body convulsed, as she held her belly and pleaded to the Holy Virgin for mercy and redemption.

»Mademoiselle? Is everything all right with you?«

The Maghreb cab driver had stopped and looked concerned as he turned around to face her.

»Yes, thank you. I am fine.« Maria wiped the tears from her eyes and tried to smile.

»You are not having a baby or something, are you?«

Maria laughed. »Do I look pregnant to you?«

The driver gave her a grin. »No, you’re right.«

Now they were both laughing. And for a brief moment, Maria tried to imagine how it would feel to be pregnant.

»So you can rest assured and continue driving,« Maria said.

»We are already there, Mademoiselle.«

Maria paid the cab driver with the last money she had. The man gave her his cell phone number. »In case you ever need someone to beat the daylights out of this guy.«

»I am sure there are already people doing that,« Maria muttered forlornly as she got out of the car.

The marina of Montpellier was larger than she had expected. Maria went to the harbormaster and asked him whether there was any possibility of renting a boat with a captain.

»For how many people?«

»Just for me.«

»I see. And what are your plans?«

»Nothing special. A… little cruise around.«

»Cruise, cruise! A cruise to where?«

Maria took a deep breath. »To the Ile de Cuivre.«

The harbormaster looked at her as if she were a terrorist. As a nun, Maria was used to all kinds of weird stares but now, without her habit, she experienced for the very first time real suspicion. The harbormaster just shook his head and sent her away. Maria walked a few steps and saw that he picked up the phone and made a call. Nonetheless, she was not willing to give up. She walked down the jetty and decided to ask the different yacht and boat owners whether they would like to take a young woman on a joyride. The fact was that some of the men, who were scrubbing their boat decks, were not averse to showing the beauty of the ocean to the beautiful young woman. Most of them invited her to step aboard immediately for a glass of champagne. But as soon as she mentioned the copper island, they all declined.

Maria was frustrated and approached an elderly man who was rigging the sails of his sloop.

»Monsieur? Could you at least show me in which direction the fortress is? Is it possible to see it from here?«

The man gave her a brief look and then he turned away without saying a word.

»There. Eleven o’clock. You can almost see it from here.«

A voice behind her. A familiar voice. A familiar hand pointing over the ocean. Maria turned around. Peter was standing in front of her, smiling at her.

Maria was completely at a loss. »Peter!« she called out. »Good gracious, Peter! Where did you appear from?«

He was wearing the same clothes that he had worn the night before. They looked a little dirtier and were crusty with salt, but Peter himself looked unharmed and buoyant.

»From the island!« he said. »I came straight from the island.«

Maria was still much too surprised to enjoy the moment.

»But what… I mean, how did you get back from the island?«

»A fisherman took me in his boat. But I had to shout and wave for quite some time before I got anyone’s attention.«

»And… what is there?«

»Nothing,« Peter answered. »Absolutely nothing. The island is totally abandoned and the building is completely dilapidated. There hasn’t been anyone there in decades, except for rats.«

Maria stared at Peter, still in utter disbelief. Then, all of a sudden, something inside of her loosened and all the worries of the last eighteen hours fell off her like a heavy burden that was unexpectedly lifted from her.

»Peter!« She flung her arms around his neck, embraced him, and wept freely. »Good Lord, I thought you were dead!«

He was holding her in his arms. But not the way a man would hold a woman that he had missed, rather like a stranger. As if he was trying to keep his distance. Maria did not notice it right away. Only when she tucked her face into the hollow of his neck, she realized that he smelled differently from the night before. Carefully, she pulled away from his embrace.

»What’s wrong?« he asked her.

»You seem so… different. What’s with your eyes?«

»I had a lousy night on that frigging island. Let’s go. Do you have the amulet?«

»Sure.«

»Where is it?«

The question irritated her but she tapped on her coat. »Here, of course.«

»Yes, of course.« Peter smiled at her. »Let’s return to the guesthouse and then I can tell you everything, even though there’s not much to tell.«

He pulled her along with him.

»Wait, Peter. I’ve already checked out.«

»Even better. Then let’s fly back to Rome.«

Now he grabbed her hand and started walking very quickly. Maria followed him to the next street, trying to figure out what it was that seemed so strange about Peter. What it was that was wrong with him.

He was looking for a cab.

»But I don’t have any money left,« Maria said.

»No problem.« Peter reached into the pocket of his pants and pulled out a roll of twenty Euro bills. Maria stared at the money. And back at Peter’s eyes.

A cab stopped. Maria recognized the Maghreb driver and she and Peter slipped into the back seat.

»To the airport.«

»Uh, Mademoiselle,« the driver called out and seemed delighted. »Is this the guy who always makes you cry?«

Maria did not answer. Peter fixed the driver with a cold stare.

»Shut your fucking trap and drive!«

»My offer still stands, Mademoiselle.«

During the whole drive, Peter kept looking out of the window, absent-mindedly. Until he noticed that Maria was watching him out of the corner of her eye.

»Give me the amulet.«

»Why? It’s safe inside the coat.«

»Just give it to me.«

She hesitated. »When you left yesterday, you didn’t take any money with you,« she said.

»One of the fishermen lent me some. Come on! What’s going on? Give me the amulet!«

Maria nodded slowly and reached into her raincoat. At the same time, she leaned forward to the driver as he stopped at a red light. »Monsieur, now I would really like to accept your friendly offer.«

The eyes of the cab driver flashed. Peter gave Maria a questioning look. In the same moment, she pushed the car door open and ran; she ran across the middle of the street.

»MARIA!« Peter jumped out of the cab and yelled after her.

As Maria stopped for a brief moment to look over her shoulder, she saw him bolt out of the car. But the cab driver jumped out of the car at the same time and grabbed Peter before he could run after her. Then she saw Peter make a rapid movement with his hand. Something flashed in the sunlight and the hapless cab driver collapsed to the ground. A stream of blood was gushing from his throat.

Maria screamed and started running.

»MARIA!«

She did not stop again; she simply continued to run. Behind her, she heard cars honking and people screaming. But she
knew
that Peter was still chasing her. The man she had kissed and missed more than anything else in the world. The man who had aroused a desire in her heart that a nun was not allowed to have. Before her eyes, he had killed a man whom she had asked for help.

Maria continued to run without looking where she was running. There were barely any people in the streets. Maria turned into one of the side streets and continued to run, right into a small industrial area. Warehouses, dilapidated shacks, condemned brick buildings and fenced yards of small factories. There was a wall. ›MARIE, JE T’AIME‹ it read in red letters.

She could hear Peter’s footsteps coming closer and closer.

»Stop, Maria, stop! I can explain everything!«

She did not listen and ran through a narrow alley between two shacks before she began to zigzag past unkempt yards with piles of car tires and junk. Two men were stacking wooden pallets and called something after her. A small channel at the end of the path forced her to stop for a moment to get her bearings. Maria was gasping for air and looking around. No sign of Peter. This alarmed her. She turned to her right and climbed over a wire mesh fence that ripped her coat open, and then she continued to run. Out of nowhere, a furious dog bolted towards her. Maria let out a scream and saved herself by jumping over a wall. Somehow she found her way back into the next street, where she began to search desperately for a car or a human being that she could ask for help. But there was nobody. Except Peter, who came running out of one of the back alleys. Less than three hundred feet away from her. For a brief moment, they were looking at each other. And even from a distance Maria could tell that this man had only one goal: to kill her. She saw Peter pulling a bloody knife and then he started running again. Maria wanted to run, too. She really wanted to. She wanted to run. Run, run, run. Live. Breathe. Find. But she couldn’t. She was just standing there, frozen, expecting death to come and get her, death in the guise of the man with whom she had fallen in love.

Peter could see that. He slowed his run to a walk and stretched out his hands.

»Just give me the amulet.«

Maria shook her head, not saying a word.

»Have it your way,« he said, approaching her again.

It was at this moment that Maria looked past Peter and saw the car turning into the street. The driver put the pedal to the metal and the tires screeched. Peter turned around and took a step to the side. For a split second, he seemed irritated, as the car headed straight for him. In an attempt to get out of harm’s way, he jumped backwards but the side mirror of the car hit his hip. Maria heard a pounding sound and saw Peter fly through the air before landing on the pavement. The car kept driving and bounced back into the street, now heading straight for Maria. Maria started running again. She tried to get to safety but the car cut her off and came to a screeching halt right in front of her. Maria crawled over the car’s engine hood. The driver’s door flew open. A man bolted out of the car and ran after Maria, grabbing her arm.

»What the heck, Maria, wait!«

Maria stared at the man, flabbergasted. Without putting up any resistance, she allowed him to pull her back to the car.

»Get in there. Move. We have to get out of here.«

The man pushed Maria into the passenger seat, slammed the door shut, and walked around the car before sitting behind the wheel. He looked at her.

»Is everything alright with you?«

She shook her head, silently. The man smiled at her. Then he looked over his shoulder at Peter, who was struggling to his feet, and started the engine.

»Put your seat belt on.«

She nodded. »Yes, Dad.«