‘Eve managed to persuade Adam to listen to the Gnostic ideas; hence the myth that Eve tempted Adam to join her in eating the forbidden apple. What she kept secret was that she was pregnant, and Adam wasn’t the father. The first person born on the earth, according to the Old Testament, was Cain, the first true human being. His brother Abel soon followed, and this time Adam was the father.

  ‘When they grew up, the difference in appearance between Cain and Abel was obvious. They fought over their parentage, and, on Cain’s birthday, Abel tried to kill Cain – with an old spear he’d found.’

  ‘I’ve heard enough,’ Morson said. ‘Go back into the other room.’

  ‘No,’ Lucy said, ‘I want to hear this.’ She was surprised when Morson shrugged and gestured to Gresnick to finish his story.

  Gresnick allowed himself a smile.

  ‘Cain wrestled the spear from Abel and slew him. He knew he could no longer live with Adam and Eve and fled eastwards. The Old Testament said he was banished to the Land of Nod, but there’s no such place. Nod simply means wandering. In other words, he began a nomadic life. He eventually settled in Canaan, Cain’s Land, the same territory Jehovah later promised to Cain’s mortal enemies: the Jews, Jehovah’s Chosen People.

  ‘The Old Testament also says Cain was branded by God. That too was false. Cain, like his true father, had a double-serpent birthmark – the so-called Mark of Cain. For some reason, it only became distinct once a year: April 30, Cain’s birthday, and, following Abel’s death, the anniversary of the first killing in human history.’

  ‘SS,’ Lucy said.

  ‘Pardon me?’

  ‘Don’t you see? If the Nazis are linked to Cain, that’s why the SS adopted two sig runes for their insignia. The Ss represented the two serpents.’

  ‘They also had the Death’s Head symbol, just like the Knights Templar,’ Gresnick said.

  Lucy felt her brain sparking. It was all flooding back to her, all her old academic enthusiasm.

  ‘And the swastika,’ she said. ‘That was an ancient Hindu symbol for reincarnation. The Gnostics called reincarnation metempsychosis – the transmigration of souls. Any soul, trapped in a human body, that failed to achieve Gnosis was condemned to be reincarnated in a new body, and live again in the material world. So, the Nazis chose the swastika to show their Gnostic allegiance and their belief in reincarnation as the penalty for remaining wedded to this world. The swastika is just two square Ss stuck together at right angles, another form of the Mark of Cain.’

  Gresnick smiled. ‘Cain and his people became famous for technological accomplishment, and they spread far and wide from Canaan, building great cities wherever they settled. Their most famous city was an architectural and engineering marvel, full of people from all over the world, speaking different languages – Babel.’

  ‘And that became Babylon,’ Lucy said. ‘And centuries after Canaan fell to the Hebrews, becoming the land of Israel, the Babylonians invaded, sacked the Temple of Solomon in Jerusalem, and carried off all the treasures it contained, including, perhaps, the Ark of the Covenant.’

  Gresnick nodded. ‘Some Babylonians took to ships and went looking for new lands to settle in, and the rumour was that they took the Ark with them. They went to the far North, to a land that legend said lay beyond the north wind. It’s called Hyperborea in Greek. The Latin name was Ultima Thule, or, usually, just Thule: the land at the end of the world.’

  Lucy tried to gauge Morson’s reaction, but his face was expressionless.

  ‘The people of Thule made another great journey,’ Gresnick continued, ‘to the most famous island of all…Atlantis. According to legend, Atlantis was destroyed over two and a half thousand years ago on none other than April 30, following an apocalyptic religious ceremony. The rumour was that the Ark of the Covenant was the centrepiece of the ceremony.

  ‘The few survivors then spoke of finding a new Atlantis, a lush land marked by a special star called Merica.’

  Lucy almost clapped her hands. ‘America!’

  ‘That’s right. America wasn’t named after Amerigo Vespucci. It got its name because the people who discovered it thought it was the mythical Gnostic land that lay under the shining star Merica.’

  ‘So, who did discover America?’

  ‘The Knights Templar, Lucy. The Templar Fleet that sailed off in 1307 to escape the Catholic Church’s persecution had no choice but to find a new land, beyond the reach of the papacy. Once they discovered America, they kept it a closely guarded secret. They made sure no word got back to Europe, knowing that if anything leaked out, the Pope would send an armada against them to conquer them and seize their new country.

  ‘It wasn’t until the end of the fifteenth century that they changed their strategy. They had lost many men in wars against the Native Americans, and the knights were unhappy about having to take squaws as wives. Their settlements were failing. They needed an influx of Europeans to make America viable. The Templar they chose for their most vital mission was one of the most famous men in history – Christopher Columbus.

  ‘Columbus knew exactly where the New World was for the simple reason that he already lived there. That’s why no one is quite sure whether he was Italian, Spanish, Catalonian or Portuguese. In fact, he was American. Isn’t it the ultimate irony? The so-called discoverer of the Americas was an American all along.

  ‘When the ships Santa Maria, Niña and Pinta embarked from Spain in 1492, they changed their sails as soon as they were out of sight of the land, and raised new sails emblazoned with the red Cross pattée of the Knights Templar. A Scottish Templar called Sir John Drummond was the man who drew up the maps and charts they used on the voyage.

  ‘The history of America is largely the history of persecuted religious minorities, and the very first were the Templars. America is the country of the Knights Templar – a Gnostic country, Freemasonic. It’s the new Atlantis, the cherished home of the Illuminati, their bulwark against the power of the Vatican.’

  Lucy had never heard anything like it. This was amazing.

  At last Morson intervened. His comment startled Lucy.

  ‘And it’s where my colleagues and I come from.’ He had the weirdest smile. ‘If you look at the night sky, you’ll see that Merica is shining more brightly than ever.’

  Chapter 50

  The world’s last hope. Vernon stared at the nearest plasma screen. It was impossible, but the words were right there, being broadcast to everyone who still had a working TV. Lucy truly was special. He assumed the Vatican had taken the decision to give publicity to her to offer some hope to the world…to let people know there was still a chance. Even so, he felt it was a desperate act.

  The plasma screens showed a succession of pictures from across the globe. They focused on huge screens set up in St Peter’s Square, Times Square, Trafalgar Square, Paris, Berlin, Vienna, Prague, Tokyo, Beijing, Moscow, Jerusalem, Cairo – everywhere on earth that could still broadcast pictures. In some of the places, huge crowds were thronging around the screens; in others there were only a handful of soldiers; in others no one at all. Every big screen displayed exactly the same image: Lucy.

  A flustered young reporter appeared in the centre of St Peter’s Square, as hundreds of thousands of Romans knelt to pray.

  ‘I’ve never known anything like this,’ the reporter said. ‘I’m hearing that every TV set on earth is simultaneously broadcasting this unknown woman’s picture. If the Vatican is correct, the lives of all of us lie in her hands. The great artist Raphael apparently knew this moment was coming five hundred years ago. I really don’t know what to say. Can it be true? I’m sure there’s not one of us who wouldn’t give anything to believe that, against all the odds, someone might be able to save us. But a mental patient?’

  Vernon and Kruger stared at each other.

  ‘Why did the Vatican do it?’ Vernon asked. ‘It’s mad to publicise this.’

  ‘Everyone needs hope,’ Kruger replied. ‘Lucy is the only hope.’ He turned round and called to his men.

  As they walked back towards the ship, they found hordes of rats scurrying in and out of deserted houses. In a stairwell, an old-fashioned automaton in a harlequin costume was lying on its back, clashing cymbals together, its small legs futilely kicking into the air.

  Vernon gazed at the crazy spectacle. The automaton’s arms moved more and more slowly, its batteries running out. After a few seconds, it stopped completely, its cymbals failing to clash one last time. Was that what was happening to the world? Everything running down.

  ‘Come on, let’s get out of here,’ Kruger said.

  Back at the ship, they got underway as quickly as they could. In the distance, columns of dense black smoke rose into the sky – several districts of Bristol were in flames. Unless it rained, the city would burn to the ground.

  They manoeuvred into the central harbour and docked. The water was choked with bloated corpses, many with stab wounds and gunshot injuries.

  ‘Look at the bodies,’ Kruger said. ‘Their eyes have been removed.’

  Vernon gazed down at the mass of dead flesh. ‘They must have gone crazy,’ he said.

  They disembarked. In the dock was an impressive yacht, the sort a billionaire might buy. Painted glossy black, it had a towering golden cross on its prow. It was sitting at an awkward angle and Vernon realised it was holed beneath the waterline. If it were in deep water, it would have sunk.

  ‘Shall we check it out?’ he asked Kruger.

  The sergeant nodded. He ordered his soldiers and the handful of SAS men to wait while he and Vernon went onboard.

  As soon as Vernon stepped onto the ship, he had a bad feeling. The vessel had a ghostly quality, as if it were the sister ship of Dracula’s ship that ran aground with a dead crew.

  Pistols in hand, they went below. It looked like there had been a frantic firefight onboard. Several dead men in sailors’ uniforms were lying around. They had no eyes. The word Repent was scrawled on one wall.

  When they reached the flooded hold, Vernon and Kruger stopped. Hundreds of eyes were bobbing up and down in the water. On the far wall, written in what looked like blood, was a quote from the Bible: If thine eye offends thee, pluck it out.

  ‘Madness,’ Vernon mumbled. He retraced his steps as fast as he could, with Kruger close behind. The people had turned into savages, going on religious-inspired killing sprees. If Bristol had gone this way, what were things like in London?

  Kruger hurried over to a fenced-off compound at the edge of the harbour. He took out a key and unlocked a padlock, then pushed open the gate. Inside was a large storage facility. The sergeant heaved open the door and Vernon followed him in.

  ‘Help me with these.’ Kruger stood beside black tarpaulin sheets covering several vehicles. They turned out to be olive-green United Nations military Humvees: the closest a car could get to a tank.

  ‘Where did you get these?’

  ‘Let’s just say the Vatican was owed a few favours.’

  Kruger ordered the wounded Swiss Guard to be placed in the lead Humvee, with the two injured SAS men. ‘We’ll drop these men off at an army base. They can get proper medical treatment.’

  ‘Where are the rest of us going?’ Vernon asked.

  ‘That’s up to you. Have you remembered where the battle of Camlann was fought?’

  Vernon shook his head.

  ‘In that case, we’re going to Glastonbury.’

  Vernon was furious with himself for forgetting. He stared at the ground and noticed a discarded wrapper from his favourite chocolate bar – Cadbury Whole Nut. He started laughing. ‘It’s OK,’ he said. ‘I know exactly where Lucy is.’

  Chapter 51

  Sergeant Morson and Gresnick had left the room, leaving Lucy alone. She stared around the plain room, then at the painting of Longinus with his famous spear. Was it really possible that the spear contained the power people claimed for it? In the painting, it was just an ordinary Roman horseman’s lance but, according to some people, it was a Hebrew spear, as old as the human race. How could a spear contain mystical power? One theory claimed that one of the nails used to hammer Jesus to the cross was embedded in it. Was that enough to turn it into a magic spear?

  Morson came back in and drew up a chair next to Lucy.

  ‘We’re your friends, Lucy. That fool of a cardinal back there could never help you. As for Gresnick, he’s a soldier. He knows his duty. Believe me, if he gets the chance, he’ll kill you without hesitation.’

  ‘Everyone says they’re my friends. I think you all want to kill me.’

  ‘We could never harm one of our own. Deep down, you know who you really are. I mean, below the surface.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘You see things, don’t you? Sometimes, you have strange feelings. Maybe, at times, you don’t think you’re here at all. Your sense of identity is weak: practically non-existent at times.’

  Lucy squirmed. It was true. Sometimes she thought she was in the wrong skin. The world was out of kilter, or she was.

  ‘Life nauseates you at times, doesn’t it, Lucy? That’s why you ended up in an asylum. You know this world is wrong.’

  ‘I don’t understand what you mean.’

  ‘You understand all right. You just can’t come to terms with it. For most of us, we never get into the situation where we start remembering. Only the most special amongst us can contact the past.’

  ‘I’m not getting you.’

  ‘We questioned the cardinal. We wanted to know exactly why he was so interested in you.’

  ‘It was the mural.’

  ‘That’s right – our mural. Julius II was a Grand Master of the Illuminati.’

  So, she was right. Lucy almost conjured a smile. ‘What about the late Pope?’

  ‘Julius IV was a fool: a good Catholic to the end. He refused to believe that any of his predecessors could be a heretic. He’d heard all the rumours regarding Julius II and decided the only way to scotch them was to give himself the same name.’

  ‘And Raphael?’

  ‘He was paid well to create the mural according to a very specific brief. He didn’t suspect anything, although he couldn’t understand why he was told to leave one panel blank.’

  Lucy looked up. ‘The panel that looks like…’

  ‘Well, it obviously wasn’t painted by Raphael.’

  ‘Then who? I certainly didn’t do it.’

  ‘But you did, Lucy, you did.’

  Chapter 52

  Lucy couldn’t take it in. Morson was insistent that she had painted the final part of Raphael’s mural and said he could prove it. He made her sit at a small table with a paper and pen.

  ‘Have you ever heard of automatic writing?’ he asked.

  ‘Psychiatrists use it. It’s a technique to release the contents of a person’s unconscious mind.’

  ‘Exactly, and that’s what we’re going to do now. I want you to close your eyes and concentrate on the mural. I want you to think of each panel in turn, starting from the top left and working your way round clockwise.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘For each panel, write down anything that comes into your head.’

  ‘But it will be gibberish.’

  ‘We’ll soon see. Let’s get started’

  Lucy shut her eyes and thought of the mural. It was incredibly vivid, almost as if it were hardwired into her brain. A much crazier idea occurred to her: it was in her mind from the moment she was born. How was that possible?

  Each of the panels was so clear it was almost alive. Words were swirling around each panel. Not sixteenth century Italian or Latin words. Not English or Spanish, but French: old French. She began moving her hand, scribbling. The words were pouring out of her at a tremendous speed – words she’d known all her life, yet that meant nothing to her.

  In under a minute, she was finished. She slammed down the pen and opened her eyes. She had no idea what she’d written. In front of her was a neat list of comments in old French. When she handed Morson the paper, she expected him to be disappointed.

  ‘That’s not my handwriting,’ she pointed out. ‘And I don’t know modern French let alone old French. I know I wrote it, but…I can’t have.’

  ‘Yet you did. Even though I was expecting it, I can scarcely believe it. It’s word perfect.’

  ‘Surely what I wrote is gibberish.’

  ‘Lucy, didn’t Sinclair tell you about the attempts of the papacy to understand Raphael’s mural?’

  ‘He said they consulted several people, including Nostradamus.’

  Morson smiled. He reached into his breast pocket, and brought out two folded pieces of paper. Placing them on the table, he smoothed them out, then stepped back.

  Lucy studied the first piece of paper. ‘But this is what I wrote. I mean it’s identical.’

  ‘I’ve just given you the notes on Raphael’s mural that Nostradamus presented to the Vatican. He was only seventeen at the time, but his unique talents were already apparent, bringing him to the attention of all the great courts of Europe. The other page is the translation we made into English.’

  Incredulous, Lucy picked up the sheet and read the translated list:

  1. The seed of destruction. Light from dark. The creeping evil. Grand illusion. The Satan particle.

  2. Rebellion or revolution? Eternal war or assassination. Death the only escape. Only one.

  3. They are liberated. They are enslaved. They have peace. They have war. Heaven and Hell.

  4. Temptation. Resistance. The road to paradise. The hardest road of all. The sacred stone of heaven made. The tree has no bark, no branches, and no fruit. Look to the Stone of Destiny.

  5. Son of freedom. Take possession of their most special weapon. The original. The progenitor of all weapons. Strike the first blow.

 

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