Bones of Angels (10 page)

Northampton Abbey, 1439

East Midleands, England

Father Albertus had not lasted long at St. Cyrpian Abbey. He was consumed with the prophecy of the Codex Angelorum and managed to persuade three other monks in the community that the document he had copied prophesied the end of the world.

The abbot asked Albertus to leave for continually breaking the rule of silence and creating chaos in the monastery. “You are speaking of grave matters,” the abbot had told Albertus. “Only Rome can investigate such weighty matters.”

Albertus and his three converts to the expectation of an imminent Armageddon left the monastery and settled into the deserted buildings of Northampton Abbey on the eastern moors of Britain. Over a period of many years, they attracted disillusioned brothers of the newly-formed Franciscan and Dominican orders, as well as others dedicated to itinerant preaching. After two years away from St. Cyprian, Albertus had eight followers. He dubbed himself and the eight acolytes who believed in the Codex Angelerum to be his Council of Nine.

Many of Albertus’ later followers had become disillusioned in their faith and were naturally drawn to the fire and promise of the apocalyptic teachings. All were sworn to secrecy regarding the prophecy in the Book of Angels.

For the next six hundred years, his order, which was not recognized by the pope, retained a leadership of nine clerics at all times. Their sole mission was to find the bones of the Archangel Michael so that they might be the humble facilitators of God’s will . . .

. . . and the end of the world.

Ops Center

Aboard the Alamiranta

“Move fast, Hawkeye!” Touchdown cautioned. “Reynard’s acolytes are converging on you from . . . hell, from just about everywhere.”

“I copy,” said Hawkeye.

“For what it’s worth,” said Touchdown, “I show a crimson target deep below the monastery.”

“That’s Reynard,” Hawkeye said. “I tagged him with Grace’s new toy.”

“I’ll keep an eye on him,” said Touchdown. “Five will get you ten that he’s located the bones.”

Touchdown looked at his boss.

Miss Caine,” he said. “I was wondering . . . Exactly what are we going to do with the bones if we succeed in subduing Reynard and take possession of the remains of an angel?  They must have been put into the chambers beneath Mont St. Michel long ago. How would we get the bones to the surface?”

Caine looked about the Ops Center pensively. “Order a chopper with some heavy lifting power to circle the island. As for how we can bring the bones to the surface, I want you to identify the larger passages inside the monastery.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Touchdown began to construct a schematic diagram on one of his computers based on the holographic display of the monastery.

The Catacombs

Mont St. Michel

Father Reynard rushed into one of the larger chambers deep beneath the island. It was hundreds of feet below the cathedral and monastery buildings visible from the beach.

A large speaker, three feet wide and five feet high, had been placed on the marble floor of the chapel. It was aimed at the tall artifact that the Council of Nine had been searching for since the days of Father Albertus. The chanting of the monks above the catacombs was being fed through the speaker.

Reynard knelt. “What am I to do, most venerable Michael?  How can I summon you?  I wish only that the sacred prophecy might be fulfilled.”

Since arriving at Mont St. Michel, Reynard had assigned six of his monks to pray constantly before the bones. Nothing had happened. He thought that prayerful musical harmonics might cause the bones to . . . well, he wasn’t sure what he thought might happen to the bones. He had always expected to be given some kind of visible sign.

He left the chamber and located Brother Gerasimus. “We shall have to remove the bones to Northampton Abbey and wait for the prophecy to unfold in its own manner,” Reynard stated.

“The stone housing the bones must weigh tons,” Gerasimus said. “How can we transport it?”

“I know a way,” Reynard said. “Trust me.”

Monastery Refectory

Cathedral of Mont St. Michel

Having found their way into the monastery refectory after leaving the choir loft, Titan Six stood in the abbey’s refectory. Tank hit the light switch. Dead bodies lay in pools of drying blood. They were the monks, security guards, and tour guides normally stationed at Mont St. Michel.

“The United Nations declared the island to be a World Heritage Site,” Angela explained. “These were the last inhabitants of Mont St. Michel.”

Acolytes charged the team from the refectory entrance on the left; Council commandoes attacked from the right.

Donovan was still fumbling for his M16 by the time Shooter and DJ had mowed down the commandos with decisive blasts from their weapons.

Quiz, Hawkeye, and Tank did not have time to draw their sidearms. The three men engaged the acolytes in hand-to-hand combat. Quiz sent the first acolyte reeling with a solid leg kick to the attacker’s gut. Tank threw a dizzying haymaker at the second acolyte, who staggered backwards and fell over one of the long dining tables. Tank jumped over the table and landed a second blow, rendering his foe unconscious.

Hawkeye had drawn the most ferocious of the acolytes, who had knocked the team leader backwards with rapid, sharp blows to the chest.

Hawkeye shook off the attack, lowered his head, and charged forward. The acolyte was driven against a plaster wall with a fresco depicting the Last Supper. Although dazed, the acolyte surrounded Hawkeye’s throat with muscular fingers and squeezed. Eyes bulging from lack of oxygen, Hawkeye grabbed the acolyte’s head with both of his hands and turned it sideways.

Snap!

The acolyte slumped to the floor with a broken neck.

“Let’s get out of here!” Hawkeye said, normal color returning to his face. “I want to get that bastard Reynard.”

“And the bones,” added Shooter. “Don’t forget the bones.”

Hawkeye glanced over his shoulder with a look of frustration. “Yeah, whatever,” he said.

Ops Center

Aboard the Alamiranta

“Make your way across a small courtyard,” Touchdown instructed, “and enter the main monastery building. Travel the length of the first floor, past all the living quarters, and you’ll find what appears to be a freight elevator that descends deep into the mountain. I show your crimson target to be directly below the monastery.”

“We’re on our way,” said Hawkeye.

* Your grandfather is about to meet a watery death. *

Then we need to get back to the beach.

* No. Follow Hawkeye. *

“What’s down below?” Hawkeye asked.

“A labyrinth of chambers,” Touchdown warned. “Almost as complex as the basements and labs beneath Whittington Manor. The catacombs are heavily guarded.”

“Of course they are,” said Hawkeye. “Why should things get any easier now?”

The Catacombs

Mont St. Michel

The bones that Godefroi St. Omer had discovered a thousand years ago were still encased in stone that now rested in the chapel where Reynard had placed his audio speaker. The stone was twenty-five feet wide, fifteen feet high, and ten feet deep.

The chapel was adorned with a linen-covered altar to the right of the bones. Candles illuminated many statues of Michael the Archangel.

“We shall move the stone to the freight elevator,” Reynard told Gerasimus and Antonius.

“That will take days,” Antonius protested. “We have only wooden rollers to use to advance a stone weighing thousands of pounds. And we’re under attack.”

“We shall dispatch this group of Western cowboys as quickly as possible,” Reynard said. “If necessary, use gas to immobilize their troops and then kill them. Dispose of the bodies in the ocean.”

“Yes, my master,” said Antonius.

The Catacombs

Mont St. Michel

In a nearby chamber in the catacombs, Charles Whittington’s bloody body hung upside down, suspended over a large one-hundred gallon vat of water. The rope tied to his cinched ankles was looped over a high rafter and secured at floor level to a series of gears with wooden teeth. In five-minute increments, the main gear advanced a notch, causing Charles’ body to fall six inches.

Reynard entered the chamber.

“You can save me a great deal of trouble, Professor,” said Reynard. “Your head will be submerged in approximately thirty minutes. You have until then to spare me the task of moving the bones to my own monastery. Now then: how can I summon the Archangel?”

“He’s not subject to your command,” Whittington relied hoarsely.

“Very well then,” said Reynard tersely. “You shall die.”

Reynard turned with a flourish, his robe billowing behind him as he left the chamber.

Charles had been hallucinating, or so he thought. He was lapsing in and out of consciousness. His body was no longer in pain — it was simply numb. He felt as if he were in his sensory deprivation chamber. The real world of sun and fresh air was far away.

In the past hour, he thought he had seen angels and saints conversing with one another, but he knew they weren’t real. The scientific part of his mind knew that his brain was manufacturing large amounts of serotonin and several endorphins, certainly enough to explain transient visions.

He had also seen a monk who was most assuredly not a member of Reynard’s mysterious order. A mere apparition, of course, but it smiled at Charles as if it knew him well.

The wooden gears clicked loudly. Charles’ body fell another six inches.

Main Monastery Building

Mont St. Michel

With enhanced night vision, Hawkeye led his team across the small courtyard with no problems and saw the outline of the side door to the main building.

“Targets in the monastery,” said Touchdown, “but no one to block your entrance.”

Titan Six made its way quietly into the monastery. The rooms and center hall were dark, although light spilled from a room thirty yards in the distance.

“DJ, bring up the rear in case someone followed us,” said Hawkeye.

The team crept along the wide hall. Hawkeye was about to give orders for taking the lighted room twenty-five yards away when he fell to his knees. The hall became foggy as team members began to cough.

“We’ve been gassed,” said Tank. “It’s coming from air vents in the ceiling.”

Hawkeye struggled to speak. “Touchdown, activate the BioMEMS for T6. Everyone else, pour some water from your canteens into a cloth or handkerchief and breath through it.”

“Roger,” said Touchdown.

The team crawled along the floor. It had already attracted the attention of Council commandos in the room ahead.

The bloodstreams of enhanced Titan Six members were cleared of the gas within a minute. The others coughed while holding wet pieces of cloth against their faces.

Six commandos, all wearing gas masks, were fifteen yards away.

Hawkeye fired but missed. The hall was still filled with remnants from the noxious gas discharge.

DJ was the first to fully recover. She stood and fired her Calico M960. Two commandos went hurtling backwards as if they’d been jerked by a cable.

Tank fired his Glock and took down a third.

Three shots then echoed loudly in the hall. Shooter claimed a fourth commando with her Barrett REC7.

Rolling on his back, Hawkeye turned around to see where the other two shots had come from.

Archbishop Donovan had squeezed off two rounds from his M16. The last two commandos were hit in the chest and forehead respectively. They fell to the floor, dead.

He wasn’t using any wet cloth to protect himself.

“Nice shooting, Archbishop,” Hawkeye said. “Sure you weren’t more than just a chaplain in the Army?  You hit those guys with split-second accuracy. And how come you’re not feeling the effects of the gas?”

“Even chaplains learn how to use a gun, Mr. Hawke,” Donovan answered. “As for the gas, I took a deep breath as soon as I saw you go down. I was also an Olympic swimmer and can hold my breath for a very long time.”

“You’re full of surprises,” said Hawkeye. “Okay, everyone. Let’s see if we can find that elevator.”

The team climbed to its feet and continued down the hallway.

* We have some unusual company. *

Who?

* I don’t know yet. The feeling is still too amorphous.”

The Archangel?

* I don’t think so. *

DJ looked behind her and in the adjoining rooms. The hallway air was clean once again, and she saw no one. But something caught her attention on the floor. It was the size of a small pink button. She didn’t know what it was, but she picked it up and stowed it in her breast pocket for future reference.

Subterranean Chapel

Mont St. Michel

Brother Erastus entered the chapel of the Archangel Michael.

“The freight elevator is jammed,” he told Reynard. “It’s not responding. It’s stuck on the monastery’s first floor.”

“Our visitors are more clever than I anticipated,” Reynard said. “We will not be trapped, however, nor will we allow them to reach the sacred bones. Here is what we’ll do.”

He moved close to Erastus and whispered his orders.

Five minutes later, acolytes were dispersing throughout the maze of catacombs.