The Dark Rift: The Supernatural Grail Quest Zombie Apocalypse (The Last Artifact Trilogy Book 1) (15 page)

Amsterdam, North Holland.

“Ladies and Gentleman,
I would like to introduce the president and owner of AuraChip Industries; esteemed member of the Vanderhoff group since nineteen eighty-four; Dr. John B. Middleton.”

It was early evening, and the conference was now concluding its second day. The keynote speaker stepped up onto a podium in the hotel’s main banquet hall, amid a full round of applause. Before him were the world’s elite, more than a hundred and twenty strong. They sat at large round tables, arrayed with the finest china, and lit by the warm light of massive chandeliers.

“Thank you,” he said, waiting for the applause to subside. “It seems like only yesterday that I was up here boring you all with the tiring details about Radio Frequency Identification Microchips, and their many biometric potentials. I can recall that we were just about to have dinner, and that’s probably the reason why no one left the room.”

Laughter spread through the hall.

“You’ll be happy to know that I’m going to skip past all the technical stuff this time and go straight into what we at AuraChip have accomplished over this last year. Although our outlook is quite extensive, it can all be summed up in two words: Human Implantation.”

He was forced to pause until the applause died down.

“Out of the veritable cornucopia of cutting edge biometric technology, human R.F.I.D. implantation promises to be the ultimate game changer. Over and above the many ways it will improve lifestyle, health, and security, perhaps the most powerful will be population control, and that means outlaws, terrorists, and quite simply anyone who doesn’t do what we tell them to do.”

Laughter and applause sounded, the group delighted with the speaker’s candidness. Population control was, after all, the Vanderhoff Group’s primary objective.

“The AuraChip will mean the end of organized crime and terrorism as we know it. The moment laws are broken, AuraChips will simply be deactivated, leaving deviants trackable, and without any resources. In a world where all your money is on your AuraChip, and cash does not exist, what will a criminal do if he’s offline?”

“He’ll clean up his act, God damn it!” exclaimed an old American man at a nearby table.

His comment was met with a healthy round of applause.

“Yes, I’m afraid he’ll have no choice but to shape up,” said the speaker. “Unless of course he wants to live like a caveman.”

The laughter continued.

Christian took the opportunity to rise from his table and leave the hall. Over his shoulder he could still hear the speaker.

“Now, the world at large is still quite unaware of our plans for the AuraChip, and this leaves us with a tremendously exciting, and extremely lucrative opportunity to be the ones to implement this new technology across a full spectrum of applications. What I’d like to go over now is a detailed plan of action that—”

Christian closed the door behind him. Any interest he might have had in the conference had now been replaced by a cold contempt for all those attending.

“Stinking maggots,” he muttered bitterly. “Putting on airs of helping humanity when all they want to do is subjugate it. If they openly admitted what they were doing I could respect them…”

Ever since the proceedings with the Nautonnier that afternoon, Christian had been consumed with anger and hatred. Although intoxicating, these nefarious emotions also frightened him. They seemed to come from a dark personality within him; a previously dormant shadow-self that had been awakened when he had signed the ledger. He began to tremble with rage the more he thought of it. The Nautonnier had tricked him into taking that pledge. Christian would make him pay for what he had done.

I’ll kill that piece of shit with my own hands.

As he marched towards the main lobby, Christian could not help but flinch when he saw his reflection in a passing mirror. It jerked him back into reality, checking his wrath almost immediately. He had never been a saint, this was true, but in his eyes he had just seen a cold blooded killer. He stopped in his tracks and walked back to the mirror, looking at his reflection with deep concern. For a fraction of a second he could have sworn that his eyes were not his own, but rather those of a reptile. He produced his phone on an impulse.

“This is Christian Antov,” he said. “I need to speak with Doctor Bennington immediately.”

There was a pause as he listened.

“It does not concern me that he is on holiday in Paris. He will drop whatever he is doing and call me at once!”

Rome, Italy.

Gabriel could not help
but think he was staying at Buckingham Palace. The pomp of the five star suite was completely at odds with his simple tastes. Despite having managed to amass a considerable fortune retrieving lost treasures and artifacts over the years, Gabriel had never once been taken by the luxuries such wealth offered. With the exception of Italian motorcycles, German cars, and American gadgets, his tastes had remained simple and down to earth.

In almost every case, Gabriel preferred the clay goblet to the golden chalice, and if he had brought Natasha to this particular hotel, it was only because he wanted to be sure that she would be as comfortable as possible. She was currently showering in the adjoining suite, the door that linked the two rooms kept open on her insistence.

“I hope you do not mind,” she had said timidly, “but Uncle Marcus said that those men will always have a general idea of where we are. And then there are those dark forces that he said were following me… I would feel much safer knowing you are close by.”

Gabriel peered into her room uncomfortably. Over the running water of the shower he could hear her singing the lyrics of an Italian pop song. He shook his head incredulously.

How can a nation that spawned the likes of Puccini and Verdi possibly produce a song that cheesy?

He called the Bishop’s phone again, just to get his mind on something else. When the machine came on he decided to leave a message.

“Marcus,” he said. “I hope you get this. Natasha and I are out of the catacombs and checked into a hotel here in Rome.”

He paced around the room as he spoke, not knowing what to do with himself.

“Something’s come up. It turns out that the informant who gave us the location of the Cube was Amir’s cousin: A guy named Bahadur. Nasrallah suspects that Bahadur had something to do with the robbery. He’s holding their entire family hostage.”

Gabriel moved to the enormous bed, looking down at its golden pillows and ornate coverings.

How is anyone supposed to get comfortable in a place like this?

He reached down and pulled away the silken cover.

“Before we do anything about the Cube, I’ve got to get Amir’s family out of there. I’m responsible for all of this. Natasha’s insisted on coming with me. We’ll be flying to Gibraltar tomorrow, and then heading to Morocco from there. Call me the minute you get this. We need to know you guys are safe.”

Gabriel pocketed his phone and lay back onto the bed’s many cushions, his arms behind his head. He could still feel the grit from the catacombs in his hair, and felt far too dirty to be lying where he was. He got up almost immediately, looking around the suite, and feeling a growing anxiety for his three dear friends. The fact that he had intentionally left them behind was proving very difficult to bear now, especially given the luxurious surroundings.

“We had no choice,” he muttered to himself. “There was no option. They’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.”

Gabriel paced aimlessly. He had promised Natasha that he would wait until she finished showering before doing so himself. He moved to a little wooden table by the window and pulled up a fragile chair. His old battered duffel bag was on the couch beside him. He took hold of it and noticed that it had already soiled the cream coloured upholstery with rusty catacomb dirt.

“Oh, man,” he sighed, moving it onto his lap. “So much for the damage deposit.”

He reached into it, carefully removing the Cube. There was something about the artifact that drove him to hold it; something that made him feel as though it needed his attention; as though it were somehow alive. Removing it from its container, Gabriel was instantly made aware of its strange characteristics, and once again found himself unable to pinpoint exactly what it was. He had seen countless artifacts over his career, but there was something very different about this one. Gabriel looked up suddenly. The shower had stopped.

“I am almost finished,” chimed Natasha, and another surge of affection filled his heart.

Don’t go there, buddy. She’s not for you.

It was at that moment that Gabriel noticed something very peculiar. It seemed to him that a glimmer of light had caught his eye; one that appeared to have originated from the Cube itself. Gabriel looked up to the ceiling, expecting to find a recessed light that might have reflected in its gold leaf, but there was nothing there. As he looked around the room he saw that there was no lamp that could have produced such a reflection.

“Do you see how quickly I shower?” came Natasha’s voice, pulling him from his thoughts as she appeared at the threshold. “I am just like a man in that way.”

She was wrapped in a thick white towel and in the act of brushing her liquescent chestnut hair. Gabriel was once again captivated, despite his best efforts. It took him a few seconds to register that her happy expression had changed into one of wonder and awe.

“So that is the artifact…” whispered Natasha, stepping into the room and pointing to the Cube in his hands. “What makes it glow like that?”

Gabriel looked down at the artifact, unable to believe his eyes. Emerging from a series of cracks in its surface was an unmistakably blue light. He jumped to his feet, dropping the Cube onto a chair and instinctively moving away from it.

“What the hell is that?” he said, half shielding Natasha with his body, as though the Cube might explode. “This is impossible. Medieval artifacts don’t light up.”

As one, they moved closer to the relic, intrigued by the quality of its light. Gabriel was perplexed. He had examined the piece on several occasions and had been certain of its authenticity. In a split second all that had changed.

“It’s some kind of a hoax,” he said, squatting before it.

Natasha kneeled down next to him.

“The light seems to be leaking through cracks at the edges of the parchment,” she said, picking up the artifact and moving closer to Gabriel, so that he might study it too. “Do you see what I mean? Right here, where the vellum meets the framework.”

“It looks like there’s another layer to the thing,” said Gabriel, becoming increasingly intoxicated by the smell of soap on Natasha’s skin.

“Another
layer?” she asked, turning to look at him. “What do you mean?”

Gabriel looked into her beautiful, Sofia Loren eyes, suddenly oblivious of the artifact. It was taking all his willpower to stop himself from kissing her.

“It used to have a crudely painted outer shell,” he said softly, moving aside the same lock of hair that had fallen over her eyes in the catacombs. “I removed it back at the monastery.”

The backs of his fingers traced lightly over her ear as he tucked away the errant lock. It sent a tingling thrill through Natasha. The hint of a smile appeared around Gabriel’s lips.

“I kept the pieces if you’d like to see them.”

Natasha’s eyes were veiled in mist now; like a doe caught in his lights.

“This artifact had an outer layer,” she whispered absently. “You should have told me.”

“I was going to,” said Gabriel softly.

“You were?”

Gabriel nodded slowly in affirmation, his eyes taking in her pretty features.

“Yes, I was. I just forgot.”

Natasha glanced down at his lips. Gabriel was such a paradox. There was no doubt that he was a nice man, but he was so self-assured, and so quietly cynical. She knew so little about him.

“Well, do not let it happen again,” she whispered dizzily.

Gabriel nodded slowly, looking deeply into her eyes.

“Because if the Cube had one layer,” she continued, “it could easily have another.”

“I suspect it does.”

“I suspect it does too.”

Just then Natasha began to break from the spell, the tremendously important meaning of what was being said finally settling in. She had dedicated her life to artifact restoration, and here was the most mysterious artifact she had ever encountered, potentially ready to reveal yet another layer of itself. The realization of it filled her with a flood of excitement, and in a split second her eyes were alight with urgency.

“Gabriel!” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet and holding the Cube out before her. “Do you know what this means? Why did you not say anything? This is incredible! What did you do with the pieces you removed?”

Gabriel nodded and rose to his feet with a groan, pointing a thumb at his tattered pack.

“Go crazy,” he said, half angry with himself for letting himself get caught up in her like that. “But don’t get too excited. I think Nasrallah’s played a little joke on us. My guess is that you’re going to find a couple of nine volt batteries hidden in that thing. I’ve got a hunch we’ve been duped.”

“We cannot know until we have studied it further,” she said, rummaging through the leather duffel bag. “Where are you going, Gabriel?”

“To take a shower,” he said, feeling almost relieved that the Cube had turned out to be a hoax. “You know, that drug lord really had me going. Apart from the silly light trick, that artifact is a brilliant forgery.”

He made his way into the bathroom, leaving the door slightly ajar so that Natasha might feel safer.

“He sure went through a lot of trouble to throw us off the trail,” he added, turning on the tap. “I wonder why. It just doesn’t make sense.”