The Fourth Bible Page 6
Yet a horse in the dark wasn’t nearly as swift as one during the day, at least not one with an inexperienced rider. While the horse could see, if his skittish master continually panicked rather than trusting the animal to find its way, the two could be injured. This had led to a far slower pace than he would have liked, but by the time the sun broke the horizon to the east, he had covered far more distance than he would have lying in a bed.
As he passed through a small town marked on his map, he knew the abbey his friends should be at was only a few hours ride from here. He made for a blacksmith with a stable and several horses visible.
He bowed to the proprietor. “Do you mind if I water my horse?”
The man regarded him for a moment. “Not at all, Monk. It would be my honor to feed him as well.”
Arledge smiled. “That would be very kind of you. I shall mention you in my prayers.”
The man chuckled. “Mention my wife, and I’ll feed you too.”
Arledge laughed, making the sign of the cross. “You shall both be mentioned tonight. You have my word, though I am in a hurry.”
A woman appeared, round with child, startled to see him in his robes. “You’re not one of the ones those unpleasant creatures are looking for, are you?”
He averted his eyes. “I should hope not, though I don’t know upon whom you refer.”
She pointed toward the road he had been traveling, in the direction he was heading. “About an hour ago, a group of men on horseback came through. Very rude, very rough. Began asking about a group of monks that might have traveled through here.”
Arledge’s heart thumped. “What did you say?”
“We said nothing, but others weren’t so tight with their tongues.”
The blacksmith eyed him. “You seem to know who she’s talking about.”
Arledge shook his head, scrambling for an explanation to his poor reaction. “No, I don’t, though I do know of them. They stayed at the same abbey as I did last night. I guess they’re about a day ahead of me. Probably on a pilgrimage to Rome as I am.”
“A long journey.”
“Yes, it is, though to see the Vatican firsthand, to attend mass with the Pope and the thousands of faithful who have Jesus in their hearts…” He sighed. “It is something I have always dreamed of, and am lucky enough to have been permitted to undertake.”
The man chewed his cheek. “It seems odd, a simple monk being sent on a journey such as what you describe.”
Arledge controlled his panic at the challenge. “Yet you don’t question a group?”
The man grunted. “Those men were on a mission to deliver a fancy Bible. They were showing it to everyone. Fools.”
Arledge was happy to hear he wasn’t alone in his misgivings. “It does sound foolish.” He decided it was best to change the subject. He clasped his hands together and bowed slightly. “There was mention of a meal?”
The man laughed. “I’ll let my wife fill your empty belly while I tend to your horse.” He patted the beast’s neck. “A fine horse for a humble monk.”
Arledge nodded, escaping an explanation by following the wife inside. He would have to make quick work of his meal before too many more questions were asked. The stop had turned out to be riskier than he had expected, though nonetheless fruitful. His horse was being taken care of, he was being fed, but more importantly, he was only an hour behind his friends’ pursuers.
17 |
Unknown Location
Present Day
O skar Richter flinched at the sound of the buzzer. Only one dared disturb him at this time. He tapped his phone, silencing the whale songs he had been meditating to, then tapped another button unlocking the door with an audible click.
His butler, Gerhard, entered, appearing as flustered as he had ever seen him.
“What is it?”
“Sir, we might have a problem.”
Richter sat up, the concern in his longtime servant’s voice palpable. “What’s going on?”
“Remember you asked me to get your invitation to the Guggenheim gala to Hugo Peeters so that he could disrupt the party and make a political statement?”
Richter hated stupid questions. “Of course. It was only last week.”
“Well, there’s been a terrorist attack at the Guggenheim. It’s happening right now.”
Richter bolted upright in his chair. “What? Are you serious? Has anybody been hurt?”
“I’m not sure yet. There’s been reports of gunfire, though.”
Richter tapped a few keys and half a dozen news feeds replaced an underwater vista on his far wall. He scanned each one, shaking his head. “Are you sure? I’m not seeing anything.”
Gerhard held up his phone. “I saw it on Twitter.”
Richter’s shoulders relaxed and he leaned back, dismissing his man’s concerns with a flick of the wrist. “Twitter? You know ninety-percent of what’s on there is bullshit.”
“No, no, it’s true! Footage is starting to come out. Some girl is even live streaming it. It’s actually starting to trend. The news will probably catch up in an hour or so.” Gerhard thrust his phone in front of him and Richter gasped at what he saw.
“What does that idiot think he’s doing?”
Gerhard shrugged. “Ransom?”
“He said he was making a political statement.” He pulled out his burner phone and called who he thought until only moments ago was a man who was all talk.
18 |
Guggenheim Bilbao
Bilbao, Spain
P eeters tugged on the chains now securing one of the doors. The museum was a large complex, and whether the police had access to the rest of it wasn’t his concern. He only had to keep a small section secure for a short period of time, and thanks to fire regulations, he had doors where architects would have preferred there weren’t.
He spotted several police cars out front, their lights flashing, and had no doubt the place would be swarming with them any minute. Again, not his concern. He wanted the press. He wanted the world to see what was happening here tonight, and it would be his only demand when asked.
He returned to the atrium where his fellow soldiers of the Animal Protection Brigade had collected all the hostages into the center of the impressive room, then made a circuit around them, inspecting Karl’s homemade explosive devices retrieved from the van outside once they had secured the scene. He paused beside Karl.
“Everything set?”
“Yup.”
“Detonator?”
Karl handed him the device. “Just flip the cover off the switch, then flick it. Kaboom.”
Peeters smiled, patting Karl on the back. “Good work.” He turned and headed for the front of the atrium, standing behind a podium set up for the planned festivities. He turned on the microphone. “May I have everyone’s attention, please?” A hush fell over the terrified crowd as they turned to face him. “Now, I will be making a statement to the press when they arrive, however I felt you all deserved to know why we decided to join you tonight. We are the Animal Protection Brigade. Who is that, you might ask? We fight for those who can’t help themselves—the animals of our planet. We fight for the equality of all Mother Earth’s creatures, from the smallest plankton to the massive whale, and all creatures in between, cute and cuddly, or vicious and ugly. And yes, that would normally include even yourselves.
“But sometimes to save the whole, you must sacrifice the part. Just as a diseased foot must sometimes be amputated to save someone from dying, sometimes a group of creatures must be sacrificed to save the rest.” He paused, then jabbed a finger at his hostages. “You are the disease. You are the infection. It is the rich of society who have the power to save the creatures of this planet, yet most of you sit idly by and do nothing. You wear furs, leathers, perfumes and makeups made from animals or tested on them. You hunt them for sport, you mount them on your walls, you tear at their flesh with your teeth as you seek out the most exotic meals as you jet across the globe. You disgust me.
“And today, you gather here to celebrate the discovery of a manmade creation that is an abomination. This Bible you are all here to see, written on one thousand pages of vellum, was only made possible because over five-hundred calves were raised and slaughtered, before their time, all for their skin, skin that would be turned into the pages you are all gathered here to gawk at!
“But that wasn’t enough for you, was it? It wasn’t enough for you to celebrate this atrocity. Someone here was set to announce to the world a plan to recreate the feat. To raise another five-hundred cows, slaughter them before they reached their prime, rip the skin off their flesh, stretch it out and dry it to create another thousand pages so modern scribes could reproduce a fifth copy, all to demonstrate the techniques that went into creating these…these…things! Someone here was planning to put their extreme decadence on display to recreate for their own entertainment and vanity something that should never have been created in the first place, for the price paid was too high. Two-thousand cattle, innocently slaughtered for the pleasure of man.”
He sneered at the crowd. “But after tonight, whoever you are, you won’t be able to fulfill your twisted desire. I intend to find out who you are, and put an end to your murderous ways once and for all.” He pointed at the bombs surrounding them. “Every one of these devices is a bomb powerful enough to kill everyone in this room.” Gasps and cries erupted anew at what they already must have surmised. “If anybody tries to leave, if the police try to get in, if anyone tries to stop us, then we’ll detonate the bombs and everyone will die.” He smiled. “So, you’re all reliant on each other. If you see someone trying to do something, it’s up to you to stop them, because if you don’t, you will die for their actions.”
His phone rang in his pocket and he fi
shed it out, cursing at the poor timing.
It was Richter.
He strode out of the atrium as he took the call. “Not a good time, sir.”
“What the hell are you up to?”
He was taken aback at the venom in his benefactor’s voice. And the fact he was calling at all. “I didn’t expect to hear from you. How did you find out?”
“It’s all over the Internet. Is it true you’ve taken hostages?”
“Yes.”
“From what I can see, you’ve already got police outside.”
“Yes.”
“How are you planning on getting out of there?”
“We’re not.”
There was a pause. “What do you mean you’re not?”
“I mean, we never were. Our plan all along was to play this out as long as we could in front of the cameras, and then when the police move in—boom—it’s all done. That way, the world will know why we did it and how resolved we were.”
“And you think that will make a difference? That a bunch of eco-nutbars killing themselves will make a difference?”
He tensed at the vitriol. “We’re not nutbars.”
“I’m not saying you are. I’m saying that’s what the world will think.”
“Well, the world won’t be concerned with our deaths. They’ll be concerned with all the millionaires and billionaires and the Hollywood types that are standing in that room right now, and the fact that they’re dead. Maybe then their friends and families and the one-percenters who rule us all will think twice about harming an animal in the future.”
Richter’s voice softened. “Perhaps. What about the Bible?”
“We have it.”
“What do you plan on doing with it?”
“Blow it up with us. Nobody should be allowed to celebrate a disgusting creation like this, a testament to the death of five-hundred innocent creatures. Nobody will dare think of trying to recreate a copy using the traditional methods.”
“You know that’s fake news, don’t you?”
Peeters’ eyes narrowed. “I know what I read, and I believe those reports.”
“You fool! That’s my people who put those reports out there. You know that’s how we operate. We put out disinformation to confuse the issue, to gain support for our cause.”
Peeters mouth watered as his stomach churned. “What are you telling me?”
“I’m telling you that if you kill yourself today, there never was going to be another Bible created. If that’s the only reason you’re killing yourself, then don’t do it.”
The blood drained from his face as the speech he had made replayed in his head, as the speeches he had made to rally his people echoed. He drew a breath of resolve. “It’s too late now. Besides, killing all these people that secretly rule the world will still serve a purpose.”
“I highly suggest you rewrite whatever speech you’re giving so it doesn’t make any reference to a fifth Bible, otherwise you’ll go down in history sounding like a fool.”
He didn’t bother telling the man it was too late. “I’ll take it under advisement.”
“Do you want me to figure out a way to get you out of this?”
Peeters grew suspicious. “Why? You seem quite concerned about my welfare suddenly. Just a month ago, you refused our regular protest fee.”
“Hey, I’m not going to give a hundred Euros a day to people who can’t get more than a dozen out for a rally. If you can’t fill a bus, then you’re not worth my time or effort.”
Peeters sneered. “Well, when we’re done today, we’ll be able to fill a cruise ship.”
“After today, there will be none of you left. You’ll be killing your cause at the same time you’re saving it.”
“Are you suggesting an alternative?”
“I am. Before you go killing yourself, wait for my call. Oh, and by the way, you’ve got some kid in there live streaming everything you guys are doing.”
The call ended and Peeters’ heart hammered. He stepped back into the atrium and looked about the room, but saw nothing untoward. He beckoned Karl who jogged over.
“What’s up?”
“Apparently, somebody’s kid is live streaming everything to the Internet.”
Karl’s eyebrows shot up as he cursed. “We’ll start searching the place.”
“No, forget that. Just go on the Internet and find out who it is. Chances are their parents are here tonight. We’ll just call them out then use them as bait.”
Karl smiled. “Yes, sir.”
19 |
Frankish Burgundy
716 AD
A rledge had galloped the entire way to the next abbey on his map, and where he hoped his friends had spent the night. The horse was a gamechanger. It was sturdy enough to carry his slight frame plus the heavy Bible, as well as his supplies.
Though his poor body wasn’t used to the abuse, as riding a horse was a rare occurrence for him at the abbey.
He was paying the price, though he had no choice. He had to warn his friends of the men that were pursuing them, regardless of what Ceolfrid’s instructions had been.
“They left perhaps two hours ago at a leisurely pace,” informed the abbot that had hosted his friends. “With your horse, you’ll easily catch them by midday.”
He had thanked the man then continued his pursuit, the sun high in the sky. He was certain he would be upon them any moment now, and the thought had him slowing. He glanced at the saddlebags carrying the Bible, then the horse that carried them. If these men were thieves, they might steal his horse, and that meant they would have the Bible. That couldn’t be allowed.
Yet what could he do?
He continued forward, his mind puzzling out the problem.
Then he smiled.
He brought his horse to a halt then dismounted, making sure he was alone. He hauled his robe over his head, then took the saddlebags off the horse, draping them instead around his neck. He tossed the robe over his head then drew it down his body and over the saddlebags. He appeared ridiculous, though at a distance or in the heat of an exchange, he might simply pass as overweight.
He struggled back on the horse, the creature not pleased with the new weight distribution, then finally urged it forward, soon at a gallop, the heavy Bible slapping against his stomach, something he would be paying the price for tonight.
Shouts ahead, including cries for help, had him slowing rather than charging forward as his fantasies had suggested he would. He cautiously rounded a bend in the road and gasped in horror at the sight that lay before him. The half-dozen men on horseback, swords drawn, had Ceolfrid on his knees, the tip of a blade pressed to his throat, the others, his dear brothers, all dead or dying on the blood-soaked road.
Ceolfrid bowed his head, making the sign of the cross, then pointed to the back of the cart. Two men jumped in and the box containing the Bible was opened, one of the men holding it up in triumph. The man holding Ceolfrid ran him through.
Rage surged through Arledge’s stomach at the unnecessary act, when a horse whinnied behind him.
“And who might you be?”
He turned to find one of the men from yesterday, his sword drawn, obviously a lookout he had missed, his count of those attacking his friends one too many.
The man looked at him, askance. “I recognize you. You’re the monk from yesterday. I thought you said you didn’t know of your friends there.”
The blood drained from Arledge’s face as all strength left his body. “I—I don’t know—”
The man’s blade thrust forward, into Arledge’s stomach, the pain instant and overwhelming.
“There can be no witnesses.”
20 |
Guggenheim Bilbao
Bilbao, Spain
Present Day
A cton stood with Laura and Marchand in the far corner of the room. The door was closed, and they hadn’t seen any of the terrorists since the initial encounter when all their electronic devices were confiscated. Though they had heard them. A speech, if it could be called that, had been piped through the speakers before it was interrupted by the ringing of a phone.
Very unprofessional.
He prayed the amateurish display meant this would soon be over without any further violence. Yet could he take that risk? Sometimes amateurs panicked. He stared at the door. He could try it again, though there was a good chance that someone was on the other side of it.