Apocalypsis 1.10 The Seven Bowls Of Wrath Read online

  Peter listened intently to what Laurenz had to say. »There is one more thing,« he said when Laurenz was about to hang up. »Seth called me. He ordered me to come to the Domhotel in Cologne tonight. To Suite 306.«

  Peter could hear Laurenz exhale.

  »Don’t go, Peter. This is a trap. According to our information, Seth is in Rome.«

  »I know. A Doctor Creutzfeldt will be expecting me there. I think I know him from the Ile de Cuivre.«

  »We will send someone to check it out. Good luck, Peter.«

  Thirty minutes later, a black Lexus limousine pulled up in front of the house. The driver introduced himself as Saneaki and helped Peter’s parents to load the two suitcases that they had been allowed to bring.

  It was a brief goodbye. Peter knew that it was a goodbye forever: the itching on his leg made it perfectly clear to him that he would never see his parents again.

  And they know it too. They know it and they are leaving anyway.

  For a short moment, Peter was driven by an insane impulse. He wanted to get into the car too. He wanted to disappear with them, forever. An impulse as powerful as life itself.

  Fuck Seth! Fuck the Church! Fuck the whole world! If you love them, why don’t you just do that?

  He knew the reason. As long as the Bearers of the Light were free to pursue their plan, there was no long-term safety and security. Not for him, and not for his parents. Nowhere in the world. If he wanted to do something for his parents, there was only one thing left to do. He had to face the task he had been given. And as absurd as it was, this task was: save the Church!

  An entire life ended with two brief and heartfelt embraces in front of a Japanese luxury limousine. For the first time in all these years, Peter saw his father cry.

  »Do us all a favor and stay alive, would you?« he said when he had gathered himself. It was supposed to sound funny.

  »Uh, sure,« Peter struggled to say. »I love you too, Dad.«

  Peter’s parents also hugged Maria. Peter saw that his mother whispered something into her ear that made Maria blush.

  »What did she say to you?« Peter asked after the Lexus carrying his parents had left the property.

  »She… blessed me,« she lied.

  LXX

  May 17, 2011, Domhotel, Cologne

  Moving almost soundlessly, a Japanese porter walked through the vast corridors of the venerable Domhotel. The finest address in town, located right opposite Cologne Cathedral, had belonged to the Nakashima Group for the past few years, but its ambience and style were unchanged. Only the international staff members were an indication that a new wind was blowing through the historic hotel. The soft and thick red carpet muffled the quick footsteps of the porter, although this was not necessary. The man had learned to move silently. He met only a few guests on the third floor and each time, he greeted them with a bow. Then he stood in front of Suite 306.

  The porter knocked quietly but firmly and waited until the door was opened by a haggard middle-aged man in a badly fitting white suit. He had checked in the night before with a British passport under the name of Dr. Raymond Creutzfeldt.

  »Yes?«

  The man in the doorway seemed nervous and peered up and down the corridor. The porter handed him a sealed envelope. »Doctor Creutzfeldt, Sir. A message from Mister Adam. He is waiting for you in the lobby.«

  The man by the name of Creutzfeldt stared closely at the porter.

  »Send him up,« he said in a hoarse voice, »I am expecting him.«

  »He asked me to give you this message first and asked for a response from you. If you would be so kind. I will wait if you don’t mind.«

  »Ilasa Saitan!« the Englishman cursed. He was both angry and wary as he tore the envelope open and then he was bewildered, as he found himself staring at a white piece of paper. This brief moment of distraction was exactly what the porter had been waiting for. Without hesitation and with one quick and concise movement, he punched the guest from Suite 306 in the larynx and pushed him back into the room. The man gasped for air and collapsed to the floor. The porter closed the door so gently that an autumn leaf would not have been crushed, and then he drew a gun with a silencer from the small of his back and aimed it at the guest.

  »Just relax,« he said in a voice as soft as falling cherry blossoms. »We just have to have a little talk.«

  But these were his last words. His life ended as silently as he had entered and so fast that he did not have the time for a final thought. He did not even feel the bullet that smashed through the back of his skull.

  His murderer, who had been hiding in the bathroom of the suite, put his gun away, which was also equipped with a silencer, and then helped the man up.

  »That was very remiss of you, Mister Kelly,« Creutzfeldt said.

  LXXI

  May 17, 2011, Casina del Giardiniere, Vatican City

  Don Luigi looked into the muzzle of a SIG P220 with a silencer. He did not even seem surprised.

  »You don’t have to do this, Colonel Bühler,« he said softly.

  »Yes, Padre, I do. I don’t have a choice.«

  Urs Bühler aimed straight at the forehead of the Jesuit priest. One hour earlier he had received an SMS with a clear demand and, no, he had no other choice if he wanted to save Leonie’s life. The times when he had still had a choice were long gone.

  »It will not stop. It will go on like this,« Don Luigi said without moving. »And in the end you, too, will die.«

  »This is not about me, Padre.«

  Don Luigi saw that the Commander of the Swiss Guards was fighting back tears.

  »No, it is about your sister,« the Padre said calmly, despite his fear. He saw that the hand holding the gun began to tremble even if it was just for a brief moment.

  »What do you know about my sister?« Bühler gasped.

  »Oh dear, Colonel. You should know me better by now. Your sister is a very special human being. She is the sun! Has she ever told you about the angels who come to visit her?«

  »Shut your trap, Padre,« Bühler hissed, gripping the gun even tighter.

  Don Luigi shook his head. »Your sister, Colonel, has a gift. And this gift is the reason why THEY cannot leave her alive; just as they cannot leave us alive, you and me.«

  »Close your eyes, Padre, and say a prayer.«

  Don Luigi looked straight at Bühler without blinking. »You are a man of God, Bühler, exactly like me. You do not want to do this, so don’t! Trust me. There might still be a chance for us to save your sister.«

  »Who is ›us‹?« Bühler hissed.

  »Put your gun down and I will explain it to you,« said a voice from behind.

  Bühler spun around and fired. The projectile hit the plaster of the little old gardener’s house with a popping sound. At the same moment, Bühler’s body was zapped with 50,000 volts from a taser gun. The Commander of the Swiss Guards collapsed at Don Luigi’s feet, jerking and twitching.

  »I hate these gadgets,« said the man with the taser.

  »You are late, Your Holiness.« Don Luigi kneeled down in front of Bühler, feeling his pulse. »You need to help me; we don’t have much time.«

  Franz Laurenz put the taser away and helped Don Luigi to handcuff and shackle the sturdy and strong Swiss man.

  »How often do I have to tell you that you should no longer address me as Your Holiness, Don Luigi?«

  A few minutes later, Colonel Bühler came round, moaning. He did not even seem surprised to see the abdicated Pope standing in front of him.

  All he wanted to know was, »How did you get inside the Vatican?«

  »Through the Passetto,« Laurenz replied, as if Bühler should have known the answer. »But I can’t stay long. I need to talk to you, Colonel.«

  Bühler turned his face away. »Kill me, Holy Father. Then perhaps Leonie will not have to suffer any more.«

  »Stop talking such baloney, Colonel Bühler«, Laurenz snapped at him. »Look at me! I want to show you something.«

  Don Lui
gi handed Laurenz a laptop which was showing a video feed taken from the perspective of a surveillance satellite. Bühler recognized the island of Poveglia. He saw a vaporetto landing on the island. A man jumped off the boat and walked ashore. He was this man.

  »At first, we did not know where they were holding Leonie captive,« Laurenz said. »All we knew was that she had been kidnapped. It was only logical that they would use her to put pressure on you. So we kept you under surveillance, Colonel.«

  »Who are these people?« Bühler grunted as he watched himself in the video exploring the island.

  »Everything at its proper time, Colonel. Right now, I want to show you something else.«

  Laurenz clicked the video away and switched to another feed. Again, it showed the island in the Lagoon from a bird's eye view.

  »This is a real-time feed, Colonel. Look very closely.«

  Bühler stared at the images on the screen. No sound could be heard. What was happening was happening in complete silence, in eerie silence. Bühler saw two speedboats landing in the canaletto that divided Poveglia into two parts. Ten armed men in military uniforms jumped ashore and rushed into the temple building that Bühler had discovered. Everything in oppressive silence. A silent movie. But Bühler knew that this was just a deceptive illusion. He knew that what was happening in Poveglia, at this very moment, was a matter of life and death. It was either life or death for his little sister. He gave a moan. Only seconds later, smoke was billowing from the building; it appeared as if there had been an explosion. Three other figures were fleeing the occult temple and were shot dead by the special commando troops. Shortly after, two members of the commando carried a small figure out of the building.

  Bühler was horror-stricken. »Leonie,« he whimpered.

  Laurenz zoomed in so that the images of the small figure became clearer. This was the moment when Bühler could see that she was moving. The man who was carrying her put her carefully down on the ground and pointed up with his hand, straight at the sky. And then, Urs Bühler, Commander of the Swiss Guards, watched as his little sister Leonie looked up and into his face, waving at him.

  The Colonel started sobbing without restraint. Laurenz clicked the image away and looked at him.

  »These people will take Leonie to a safe place, Colonel. You will get to see her soon.«

  Bühler pulled himself together and looked at Laurenz. And suddenly the suspicion and the hostility were back in his eyes.

  »You mean, now she is your prisoner and you can demand from me whatever you please?«

  »No, Colonel,« Laurenz replied in a calm voice, »I am not blackmailing you. If you want, you can be with Leonie tomorrow, under a new identity, and forget about everything that’s going on here.«

  »So what do you want?«

  Laurenz exhaled. »I have always valued you as a good Christian and an excellent soldier. I am just asking you whether I can continue to count on you. Whether or not you are willing to fight off these people who have done this to Leonie. Whether or not you are willing to save the Catholic Church. I am no longer your Pope, Colonel Bühler. I can neither issue orders to you, nor have I more to offer to you than Leonie’s safety. It is possible that you and I and Don Luigi will not survive this battle. Nonetheless, I am asking you, Colonel, because there are not many people left in the Vatican whom I can trust.«

  Bühler looked at the man before him, looked deep into his eyes, and realized that this man, who until a few weeks ago had been his Pope, was willing to fight a war. He saw that this man had lost all fear. That this man was dangerous. Dangerous and convincing.

  »Tell me what you need from me, Your Excellency.«

  LXXII

  May 17, 2011, Frankfurt International Airport

  All the way to the airport he was assailed by memories of his parents and childhood moments: his first day at school, a vacation in France, an argument with his father. The sorrow of never seeing them again and the feeling that this was his fault grew in his chest like a suffocating weight. But with the memories came an impulse, a powerful impulse as old as humanity. Immortal and unrelenting hope. The desire not to die. At least not from a mysterious virus in his body. Not now. Not yet.

  You’re only going through all this shit because you wanted your life back. So do it, for fuck’s sake: get your life back!

  He wanted to live. Live, live, live. He wanted to see his parents again and he loved his job and wanted to work again. He wanted to be able to wake up in the morning and not be scared again, and he didn’t want to lose Maria. But there was only one way to get there; he had to meet with Seth. Soon.

  As soon as you have the bomb.

  They arrived at Frankfurt Airport shortly after 4.00 p.m., without having been stopped even once by the police. After parking the Volkswagen Passat next to Terminal I, Peter and Maria rushed through the arrivals hall to one of the information desks. A young Japanese man who was dressed in the security uniform of the ground services personnel welcomed them in a heavy Hessian accent, and led Peter to the restrooms and into a toilet stall where he handed him two identification cards for the Airport Security Zone.

  »See to it that nobody asks to see them,« he warned Peter. »The photos don’t match. And put this on; it will help you blend in.« He took off his security vest and gave it to Peter. »That won’t help your companion, though, in her … costume.«

  »We will be careful,« Peter reassured him, even though he had not the slightest idea how he was going to do that. Maria’s »costume« could really cause problems in the security zone.

  Peter looked at his wristwatch. 4:48 p.m. The destination board in the arrivals hall marked the Lufthansa flight from Katmandu as »landed.«

  »We have to hurry,« Peter said. »He will leave the plane any minute and go to the V.I.P. lounge.«

  »How can you be so sure about that?«

  »He is travelling First Class on a diplomatic passport. I doubt that he will wait for his connecting flight in the public area.«

  Peter scanned the hall and decided to use the security door that led to the baggage claim. This was the busiest area but Peter hoped that the security personnel were focused on the people who were leaving it. As they entered the security zone, they ran into a young policewoman in a bullet-proof vest, holding an automatic handgun. She seemed confused by the sight of Maria. In passing, Peter told her that the sister had a problem with her luggage, and the police officer waved them through. But Peter noticed that she gazed after them.

  »I am attracting too much attention,« Maria whispered. »Perhaps you should go alone.«

  »No. Your habit will come in very handy for us.«

  Peter kept out of the way of the patrolling cops. He walked Maria briskly through the arrivals terminal to the gates. As he looked through the tinted windows of the hall, he could see that the Airbus 380 had just reached its parking position. Peter stood for a moment to get his bearings and then he began to study the floor plan on the wall that showed the individual emergency exits.

  »He will leave the plane any second now,« Maria whispered urgently.

  »Wait!« Peter pulled her in front of the floor plan. »I will explain to you now how we are going to do this.«

  »Oh, are we back in the driver’s seat?«

  »This is not a game, Maria! Listen to me!«

  »Oui, mon général!«

  She gave him a smile. He was disarmed and smiled back, enjoying this brief moment of intimacy.

  »I am all ears,« she said and listened without a word, just silently nodding every now and then, as Peter pointed at different locations on the floor plan that she was supposed to commit to her memory. She did not raise any objections. Peter suspected that she was even enjoying this game.

  »Just be extremely careful,« he warned her. »He has diplomatic status and is travelling under diplomatic immunity. He might be armed.«

  »Peter, he is a cardinal!« Maria said indignantly.

  »Whether he is a cardinal or not,« Peter added, »he is car
rying a super-bomb in his luggage.«

  »I am not a baby!« Maria hissed. She was about to leave but he stopped her.

  »What now?«

  »Nothing,« he said, and then he pulled her tight to his body and kissed her. Maria flinched back in panic.

  »Are you out of your mind? People can see us!«

  Peter shrugged his shoulders. »Good luck,« he said.

  Maria looked around. A group of orthodox Jews who had just arrived from New York City were walking straight towards them. Maria gave a sigh and then she bent forward and kissed Peter back. And this was far more than a fleeting kiss, it was a KISS – sincere and warm, from the bottom of her heart, with every fiber of her being. A kiss that could mean welcome or goodbye. Peter could feel her body close to his and thought about the previous night, when she had been closer to him than he had been to himself in a long time.

  »But just so that we understand each other,« she whispered into his ear. »This has to stop. Now!«

  Peter grinned. »I will be waiting for you downstairs.«

  The last thing Peter saw was her readjusting her coif before walking past the bewildered Jewish tour group, greeting them with a friendly nod of her head.

  Don’t leave, Maria! Stay with me. Stay forever.

  Suddenly Peter felt his leg itching again. And it was not just the itch, he also noticed that he was sweating. At the same moment, he was overwhelmed with a nausea that made him gag. He turned around and rushed to the restrooms, locking himself into one of the stalls. Not a second too soon. He threw up violently into the toilet. His legs were shaking and his field of vision began to narrow, and then he saw this light again, which had become only too familiar to him, this blazing and all-consuming light, his ghoulish angel of pain, agony and guilt, who had come to punish him for the death and suffering and lust, for everything that he had brought upon others in his life. The light was the punishment. The light and the pain. Peter dropped to his knees and had to hold on to the toilet bowl, fighting against losing consciousness.