The Revelation Code

13

Eddie reached the end of the Gigantomachy frieze on the altar’s right wing, gazing up at the final panels — displaying a warrior with his face and one arm missing beside an equally incomplete horse — before turning and retracing his steps back around the structure to the same position on the left side. A tall mirror was mounted on the back wall to create the illusion that the building continued deeper into the museum; his reflection regarded him disconsolately.

There were numerous winged figures amongst the carved combatants, which he had immediately thought were angels, but Rothschild and Derrick explained during the group’s examination of the ancient temple that they were actually Greek gods such as Nike and Uranus. It was a sign of his growing concern that he hadn’t made a joke about either name. The German had assured him that the sculptures were solid slabs of marble, with nothing concealed either inside or behind them, and that they long pre-dated the birth of Christ.

‘So where is this bloody thing?’ he asked himself. The balding mirror image had no answer. With a sigh, he went back the way he had come.

The two archaeologists were at the top of the stairs, in the display room behind the facade. Eddie ascended to find them examining another frieze set out along the walls. ‘Have you found anything?’

‘No, I’m sorry,’ Derrick replied. ‘There is nothing I know of on the altar that could possibly be any kind of Christian symbol, not even in the unrestored pieces in storage.’

‘Damn. And there’s no way the gods with wings might have been seen as angels?’

Rothschild shook her head. ‘The early Christians explicitly rejected the Greek and Roman pantheon — they called this place the “Altar of Satan” for a reason. And the modern image of an angel, a man with wings on his back, doesn’t match the Biblical descriptions of them. They generally look indistinguishable from ordinary people, but they can also be beings of fire, or lightning, or even resemble some sort of machine — “a wheel intersecting a wheel” is I think how it’s worded. The angels in Revelation are just as varied, but none are described as men with wings.’

‘How are they described?’ Eddie asked. ‘Anything that matches these guys?’ He indicated the frieze.

‘Not that I can think of.’

He turned away in frustration, trying to think of anything to help him locate the angel — and his wife. ‘These arseholes found something in Italy. Nina worked out where it was… but what was it? How did they know what to look for?’

‘I don’t know,’ said Rothschild. ‘But according to Oswald, they went to a specific spot in the catacombs and smashed a wall open to reveal a cavity. Presumably they took whatever was inside.’

‘The angel?’ asked Derrick.

‘Maybe. But nothing else appeared to have been damaged.’

‘So why did they go to that spot?’ wondered Eddie. ‘This catacomb — is there anything on the walls? Paintings, inscriptions, that kind of thing?’

‘Some paintings, yes,’ said Derrick. ‘I have not been there, but I have seen photographs. Most are decorative, but there are some Hebrew religious symbols…’

He broke off, lips pursed. ‘What is it?’ Eddie asked.

‘Hebrew symbols,’ the German replied. ‘I did not think about it earlier, because you told me you were looking for Christian symbols. But there is a piece in storage…’ He searched his memory, then his eyes widened. ‘Yes, I know which one. Come with me.’

He strode from the antechamber, Eddie and Rothschild hurrying down the stairs after him. ‘What is it, Markus?’ asked Rothschild.

‘There is a panel that we have not yet managed to match to a specific location on the altar,’ said Derrick, leading them into a side room. This was also closed to the public, plastic sheets covering some of the exhibits and scaffolding rising up one wall. Eddie had been married to an archaeologist long enough to recognise that the treasures in this room were Roman rather than Greek. The columned front of a pale marble structure rose almost to the high ceiling. ‘The Market Gate of Miletus,’ the German remarked as he headed up a ramp and through a doorway at its centre. Another barrier beyond blocked the way; he moved it.

‘God, it’s like I’ve stepped through a time portal,’ Eddie exclaimed as he took in his new surroundings on the far side. Roman history had given way to Arabian, the gateway through which they had come a towering blue arch topped by elaborate castellations. ‘What’s this?’

‘The Ishtar Gate,’ Derrick told him, replacing the barrier. ‘Part of the walls of Babylon. We are now in the Vorderasiatisches Museum — the Museum of the Near East.’

Eddie looked down a corridor ahead, the walls of which were lined with more relics. ‘I’m almost glad Nina’s not here,’ he said with a grim smile. ‘She’d never leave the bloody place.’

‘This way.’ Derrick brought them to a flight of stairs. The museum had now closed, Eddie realised; there were no other visitors. He went up the steps after the other man, who opened a side door and led them down a passage. ‘This is where we are restoring the Gigantomachy frieze.’

The German showed Eddie and Rothschild into a large room. A faint smell of dust and plaster hung in the air. Lights flicked on to reveal a pair of long workbenches, upon them adjustable lamps and free-standing easels bearing photographs. Beyond the benches was a large piece of machinery that Eddie didn’t recognise, though a sticker displaying the international warning symbol for a laser — a starburst at the end of a horizontal line — gave him a clue as to its function. Past that, running along both long walls, were the movable, track-mounted shelving banks of an archival storage system.

‘How are the restorations going?’ Rothschild asked.

‘Very well. We have a new high-resolution laser scanner.’ Derrick rounded the benches and stopped beside the machine, opening a large semicircular shield to reveal a steel platform within. A gleaming mirror on a rotating base was mounted behind a glazed vertical slot in the scanner’s casing beside it. ‘We can scan a piece over two metres long to a precision of less than half a millimetre. Once we have the scan, we can either send it to the milling machine’ — he pointed out another piece of hardware at the room’s far end — ‘to make a copy, or we can give it to the computer to find a match with other pieces automatically. Like a jigsaw puzzle in three dimensions,’ he added to the Englishman. ‘The computer is much faster than a human being at putting the broken pieces together.’

Eddie regarded one of the easels, which held photos of various sculpture fragments. ‘So it’s worked out that these fit together, and now you’re going to rebuild ’em?’

‘Yes, that is right. Of course, that does not mean that they will fit, only that they should. That is why we make the copies, to test them, so we do not damage the original pieces.’ He went to a table by the storage units, on which was a large, heavy book. ‘Now, let me try to find this piece.’

Derrick leafed through the tome. Each page had a picture of a fragment of the frieze, along with a description, and there seemed to be several hundred pages. ‘Hope that thing’s got an index,’ said Eddie.

‘It could take some time,’ Derrick admitted. ‘There is a machine outside if you would like a drink.’

‘You want something?’ Eddie asked Rothschild with a shrug.

‘Coffee,’ she replied. ‘White. Two sugars.’

‘Hemlock or no hemlock?’

Her only reply was a scowl. Grinning, Eddie headed for the door.

He had not only returned with drinks, but had also finished his by the time Derrick called to his guests. ‘Here, see,’ he said, tapping at a picture.

Eddie and Rothschild joined him. The image showed a ragged-edged marble slab bearing the carved relief of a robed man with one hand held out from his side. A ruler beside it provided scale; the piece was about two feet tall and a foot wide.

‘That’s it?’ asked the Yorkshireman.

‘Yes,’ Derrick replied. ‘When I told you about the Hebrew symbols, I remembered this.’ He indicated a marking beside the figure, but it was too small to make out clearly. ‘Now I shall find it.’ He checked a number at the bottom of the page, then went to one of the storage units.

Rothschild put on her glasses and peered at the photo. ‘The sculpting is crude compared to the rest of the frieze. Where on the altar did it come from?’

‘We do not know,’ Derrick told her. He took hold of a wheel on the end of the rack and spun it effortlessly. The shelf unit silently rolled apart from its neighbour, revealing banks of large drawers. ‘There are many pieces that we have not yet found a place for.’

‘So this might not have come from the altar at all?’

‘No, no,’ the German insisted. ‘Everything was brought from the site at Pergamon. The original excavation by Carl Humann was very thorough. Ah! This is it.’

He slid open a drawer. Inside was a bulky wooden box. He carefully lifted it out and brought it to one of the workbenches. ‘Here,’ he said, lifting the lid.

Eddie immediately saw that Rothschild had been right. It was obvious even to a layman like himself that the sculpture was of a far lower quality than those around the Altar of Zeus. The stone was roughly carved, even chipped in places, and the figure’s face was crude and almost amateurish compared to the perfection of the Greek gods. ‘Looks like someone palmed it off on their apprentice. Or their kid.’

‘I can’t imagine that it was made at the same time as the rest of the frieze,’ agreed Rothschild. ‘Where’s the Hebrew symbol?’

Derrick pointed. ‘There.’

The visitors leaned closer. Inscribed next to the standing figure was a coarse but recognisable representation of a menorah. Above it Eddie saw letters, barely a centimetre in height. ‘What does that say?’

‘Some of the characters are Akkadian — not my speciality, I’m afraid,’ said Rothschild. ‘But these others are Hebrew letters, dalet and kaf — although they can also represent numbers. These would mean twenty-four.’

‘So this guy’s the Jewish Jack Bauer?’ Eddie said with a smirk.

Neither archaeologist responded to the joke, both deep in thought — and reaching the same conclusion. ‘The twenty-four Elders?’ said Derrick.

‘It could be,’ Rothschild replied, intrigued. ‘We should find out if the spot that was broken open at the Villa Torlonia had the same symbols. If it does, this might also be a marker.’

‘A marker for what?’ asked Eddie. ‘One of these angels?’

‘Maybe. But if it is,’ she went on, ‘we still won’t be able to figure out where it’s hidden unless we can identify where this piece of the frieze belongs.’ She turned to Derrick. ‘Markus, you don’t have any idea where it should fit?’

The German shook his head. ‘No. We have not yet matched it to any part of the altar.’

‘So maybe it isn’t part of the altar,’ Eddie suggested. ‘Can you stand it up? Let’s see the rest of it.’

‘There is nothing on the other sides,’ Derrick assured him.

‘Humour me.’

‘What are you thinking?’ Rothschild asked as the German started to lift the piece. ‘I know that attitude — I’d expect it from Nina.’ Her own attitude was not exactly approving.

‘Guess I’ve picked up bad habits from her. But you know what one of her other bad habits is? Usually being right. About archaeology, anyway. Kids’ names, not so much.’ A brief smile, which vanished in a flare of anger at the thought of her still being a prisoner.

That in turn hardened his resolve to do whatever it took to get her back. Derrick had by now stood the thick block on its end; Eddie took hold of it. ‘Wait, you should not—’ the archaeologist protested, but he had already pulled it around a half-turn. ‘This is a valuable artefact! Only museum staff are allowed to touch it.’

‘Report me to the boss. Oh, wait, that’s you,’ Eddie replied, switching on the bench’s lamps. ‘Hey, look at this.’

The back of the block appeared plain. ‘Look at what?’ said Rothschild.

Eddie ran a fingertip over the surface. Large parts felt rough to the touch, like a fine sandpaper — not at all like marble, even though it was the same colour as the rest of the piece. ‘The front and sides are all lumpy, like the sculptor was a bit cack-handed — but this is almost flat. And it feels different.’

Derrick gave it an experimental stroke with a fingertip. ‘He is right,’ he told Rothschild. ‘It is like… like a patch, where a flaw was repaired.’ His hand moved back across the blank face. ‘But this is too big to be a simple fix. I think…’ He trailed off.

‘You think there’s something inside it?’ Eddie finished for him. ‘Like this block’s hollow — they chiselled it out, stuck the angel in the hole, then filled it in again?’

‘It can’t be,’ said Rothschild, though with some uncertainty.

Derrick bent down to scrutinise the surface. ‘It is possible,’ he admitted. ‘Look, here — with the light at the right angle, you can see where the repairs were made.’

He withdrew, letting the woman take his place. ‘Yes, I see it,’ she said, almost reluctantly.

‘If this angel’s inside, we’ve got to get it out,’ Eddie said.

‘And how do you suggest we do that?’ demanded Rothschild.

‘I know a way — worked fine last time I tried it.’ He hefted the lump of stone, turning as if to dash it on the floor.

Both archaeologists simultaneously shrieked, ‘No!’ Derrick darted to clap his hands around it before Eddie could let go. ‘You cannot do that!’ he yelled.

‘We’ve got to find the angel or they’ll kill Nina!’ the Englishman replied.

‘There are better ways than smashing it to bits!’ protested Derrick. ‘We have an ultrasound scanner. I can see if there really is something hidden inside. If there is, then I will consider — consider — drilling into it. But this is a valuable piece!’

‘The patch is at the back,’ Eddie pointed out. ‘Even if you open it, the bloke on the front won’t be damaged. Once you work out which part of the altar it comes from, you can stick it where it belongs and nobody’ll know anything happened to it. That’s if it’s even actually part of the altar,’ he added.

‘The style really doesn’t match any other part of the Gigantomachy,’ Rothschild reluctantly reminded Derrick.

The German scowled, but finally nodded. ‘Okay. I will use the ultrasound. But we will not damage it unless we are sure this angel is there. Agreed?’

‘Agreed,’ said Eddie, nodding. He released his hold.

Derrick reclaimed the block with relief. He returned it to the box, then opened a cabinet and took out a piece of equipment. ‘Now, this will take a few minutes to set up. But we will soon see what is inside.’

Outside, the rain continued to fall, spraying off a tram as it rumbled past the museum. Night had arrived, the darkness deepened by the thick clouds. A guard looked through the lobby’s glass doors, glad he did not have to go out into the deluge.

He was not, he mused, even supposed to be on duty tonight. But there had been some sort of security scare, extra staff called in to keep watch. Being summoned on very short notice was inconvenient, but the overtime pay would make up for it.

The guard was about to continue his rounds when something drew his attention. The parking spaces immediately in front of the museum were reserved for buses, but whoever was driving the black van that had just arrived in a hurry clearly didn’t care about such restrictions. The driver and passenger emerged, as did another four men from the vehicle’s rear.

All wore peaked uniform caps, glimpses of dark clothing visible under rain capes. One was carrying what looked like a small suitcase. ‘Hey, I think the cops are here,’ the guard called to a colleague stationed at the front desk.

The older man looked up from his Sudoku puzzle. ‘What do they want?’

‘Don’t know.’ The six figures made their way across the bridge. ‘Must be something to do with this security alert.’

The second guard huffed, then joined his comrade as the new arrivals reached the door. The lead cop, face hidden in shadow beneath his hat’s dripping visor, rapped sharply on the glass. ‘Police!’ he barked.

‘What’s going on?’ asked the first guard.

‘Police!’ He gestured for the door to be opened.

The pair swapped looks, then the older guard unlocked the doors. ‘Come in, then,’ he said sarcastically as the cops bundled into the lobby, shaking off water. ‘What do you want?’

The lead cop threw back his rain cape — revealing a compact MP7 sub-machine gun, a bulky suppressor attached to its barrel. ‘Sorry, I don’t speak German,’ said Trant as he fired.

The guard fell backwards, blood spouting from three tightly spaced bullet wounds in his chest. His companion fumbled for his holstered handgun, but another man had already brought up his own MP7. A second trio of rounds tore into the younger guard’s ribcage.

Trant gave both bodies a brief glance to confirm that they were dead, then marched across the lobby. ‘There’ll be more guards. Spread out and find them.’ He tossed away his cap, then donned the camera headset he had worn in Rome. ‘We’re in,’ he announced.

‘Good,’ said Cross through the earpiece. ‘Secure the building, then find the angel.’

Eddie watched as an image formed on the monitor. ‘God, I thought it was hard to work out what I was looking at on Nina’s ultrasound,’ he said. All he could see was a shimmering grey fuzz.

‘This will not give such a clear picture as a medical ultrasound,’ Derrick told him as he edged a pencil-like probe across the rear of the carved stone block. ‘Marble is hard to penetrate. But if this is hollow, we will soon know.’

Rothschild looked on, fascinated. ‘This is a much more advanced model than anything I’ve seen before.’

‘It is German, of course,’ he replied, smiling. ‘I am not the expert, but I have used it to look for cracks and flaws inside pieces of the frieze. And… there is a flaw.’ He pointed at the monitor.

Eddie saw only a slightly different shade of grey. ‘What is it?’

‘That is where someone used another material to patch a hole. It is probably marble dust mixed with pitch.’ He adjusted a dial. ‘Now we are looking deeper inside. The patch is still there; this flaw also goes deep. But… yes, there!’

A dark smudge appeared amidst the electronic haze. ‘Is that a hole?’ asked Eddie.

‘Yes, it is hollow,’ confirmed Derrick. More movements of the probe expanded the shadowy gap in the image. He muttered in German as he tweaked the scanner’s settings again, and something far brighter leapt into view. ‘That is not stone,’ he said. ‘That is metal!’

‘Metal?’ echoed Rothschild. ‘The Gigantomachy frieze doesn’t have any metal pieces, does it?’

‘No, it does not.’

‘Then this isn’t part of it,’ Eddie concluded. ‘It’s like you said,’ he told Rothschild, ‘this sculpture was made by somebody else. Whoever they were, they did it to hide this angel — and they hid it inside the Throne of Satan. Maybe they liked the idea of giving the Greek gods a kick in the nuts by putting a symbol of their own religion right in the middle of them.’

‘That is an interesting way of putting it,’ said Derrick, amused, ‘but yes, there may be something to it.’ He turned his attention back to the monitor. ‘These white areas are definitely metal, surrounding… I am not sure. Pottery, perhaps, but there is something else — something very dense. Lead? I cannot tell.’

‘So get out the hammer and chisel,’ said Eddie.

He shook his head. ‘No, no. We have to study it, decide how to proceed—’

The Englishman’s patience was wearing thin. ‘I know how to proceed. Get the bloody thing out of there! The longer we piss about arguing, the more chance the bad guys’ll force Nina to tell them that it’s here.’

Derrick was still not convinced. ‘This is a priceless historical relic! There are procedures that must be followed. I shall have to—’

‘The same people who kidnapped Nina kidnapped me too,’ Eddie said. He indicated his bruised face. ‘They did this to me, and more — and they killed two people in Rome. They might kill more here. Please, open it up.’

Support came from an unexpected source. ‘This is an IHA investigation, Markus,’ Rothschild said quietly. ‘It’s what the agency was created to do — find and protect archaeological finds that may have global security implications.’

The German put down the probe and stared at the stone block for several long seconds. ‘If the IHA wants to take charge,’ he said at last, his displeasure plain, ‘then the IHA can take responsibility for any damage. The German government supports the agency, so I am sure it will back you. But I will not let this fall on me, Maureen. I am sorry.’

‘I’ll call Oswald Seretse to confirm,’ Rothschild told him. She took out her phone.

‘While she’s doing that,’ said Eddie, ‘how about you get started?’

Derrick gave him a dirty look, but stood. ‘I will get the tools.’

‘Dr Wilde,’ said Cross as Norvin brought Nina into the control room. ‘My team has entered the Pergamon Museum in Berlin. Now: where is the angel?’

Nina didn’t reply at once, gazing in mortified sadness at the monitor screens. Several showed live headset feeds — one looking down at a uniformed man sprawled on the floor. She had no doubt at all that he was dead. ‘You bastards,’ she finally said. ‘You didn’t need to kill anyone.’ She glared at Dalton, who had an unsettled expression. ‘You’re just as guilty as he is.’

‘If they’re worthy, they’ll sit with God in heaven on the day of judgement.’ Cross turned back to the video wall. ‘The angel. Where will it be?’

‘I have absolutely no idea,’ she said. ‘I’ve never been to the Pergamon Museum, and I’ve never studied the Altar of Zeus, so I don’t know.’ Simeon, standing to Cross’s right, glared at her. ‘Really! I don’t know. Just because I’m an archaeologist doesn’t mean I have total knowledge of every artefact from every period of history.’

Anna was on her leader’s left. ‘Then what use are you, Doctor?’ she demanded, sneering.

‘Anna,’ Cross warned, before addressing Nina again. ‘You found the first angel. I’m sure you can find the second, if only to save your husband any more pain. Think! What do you know about the altar that we haven’t already found out online?’

Nina blew out a frustrated breath. ‘I don’t… Okay, let me think. Built in the early second century BC, surrounded by a frieze showing the war between the Olympian gods and their enemies the giants…’

‘Giants could be a reference to the giants in Genesis,’ suggested Simeon. ‘Or the Nephilim?’

‘It’s not the Nephilim,’ Nina countered. ‘I’ve met them. Okay, not “met” — they were long-dead — but… anyway, that doesn’t matter,’ she said on seeing the questioning looks aimed at her. ‘The altar’s been on display in Berlin for over a century. If there was anything obviously non-Greek about it, we’d already know — it would be mentioned in every piece of literature about the altar, and probably the subject of a dozen Discovery Channel specials linking it to ghosts and UFOs and Bigfoot.’

‘Then what about the parts that aren’t on display?’ said Dalton.

‘It’s still being restored, so yeah, something might have been overlooked. But I can’t tell you what, because I just. Don’t. Know. Okay?’

Cross regarded her with cold annoyance, but nodded. ‘All right. So where would they keep these other pieces?’

‘I don’t have a floor plan!’ she cried. ‘They probably have storage and archives somewhere off-limits to the public.’

He turned back to the screens. One of his men was still in the lobby, having dragged the two corpses out of sight of the main doors. ‘Ellison, check the security station. See if there’s a plan of the building.’

Ellison’s camera darted around as he searched before locking on to a display board for the fire alarms. ‘Found it,’ came a voice from the speakers.

‘Good. Are there any archives?’

‘Second floor, there’s a section marked “Archivieren”. I think that means archives?’

Cross glanced at Anna, who nodded. ‘Okay, that’s where we’ll start the search. Trant, leave two men to cover the entrances and get the rest up there.’ The various monitors broke into dizzying motion. ‘Dr Wilde, if you see anything, tell me immediately. Or—’

‘Or you’ll torture Eddie — yes, I know.’ Defeated, all Nina could do was watch as Cross’s men moved through the museum.

Eddie peered over Derrick’s shoulder as the archaeologist worked. Breaking into the hidden cavity inside the stone block had not taken long; the substance used to seal the hole was relatively fragile, splitting after just a few taps with a small chisel. Once the first crack had appeared, Derrick’s reluctance to damage the artefact quickly gave way to professional curiosity about what was hidden inside.

‘Careful,’ warned Rothschild as the German made his final delicate strikes.

‘I know what I am doing,’ he replied testily. Eddie smiled at her getting a taste of her own medicine, then watched as Derrick gently used the chisel’s tip to lever the freed section upwards.

The interior was revealed beneath, light reflecting dully off copper.

‘There is definitely something inside,’ he announced with rising excitement. He lifted the piece away.

‘So that’s an angel, is it?’ said Eddie, gazing at what lay within.

The figure had the body of a man but the head of an eagle, several metal wings wrapped tightly around its torso. It fitted the space inside the block almost perfectly, the gaps filled by fine dry sand to act as a cushion. Whoever had concealed it had also wanted to protect it.

Rothschild adjusted one of the lamps. ‘There’s some text on the body. It looks like Akkadian.’

‘Will you be able to translate it?’ Eddie asked.

‘I can, of course,’ said Derrick. ‘It is hardly Linear A!’ He and Rothschild shared a chuckle.

‘Archaeology jokes, always hilarious,’ said the Englishman, straight-faced. ‘But it is an angel, right?’

‘I think so,’ Rothschild replied. ‘Although by the letter of Revelation, the eagle head would actually make it one of the “living creatures” — or “beasts”, depending which translation of the Bible you choose — before God’s throne. They summoned and released the four horsemen.’

‘What, as in the horsemen of the apocalypse?’

‘Yes, although they’re never called that in Revelation. Markus, can you get it out of there?’

Derrick blew sand off the figure and lifted it from its resting place. ‘It is very heavy,’ he noted, surprised. He set it down on the table. ‘Hmm. The wings, they seem to have been pressed into the clay before it was fired. But they are only thin; I wonder how they kept them from melting? Perhaps—’

A loud bang echoed down the corridor outside. Eddie’s head snapped up. ‘What was that?’

‘It is just the security guards,’ Derrick replied. ‘But they know they are not supposed to slam the doors — the vibrations can damage the exhibits.’ He stood at another thump. ‘I will talk to them.’

Eddie and Rothschild looked back at the statue as he crossed the room. ‘I must admit,’ said the elderly woman, ‘I honestly didn’t believe anything would come of this. Revelation is open to a great deal of interpretation, to put it mildly. But whoever kidnapped Nina was right about where to look.’

‘And now they’re making her tell them what to look for,’ Eddie reminded her grimly. ‘But we beat ’em to this. If I can persuade your friend to let me use it to get her back…’ He glanced at Derrick as the German reached the door—

Someone outside kicked it open.

Derrick staggered back. A man dressed in black burst into the room — a sub-machine gun in his hands, laser sight dancing over its targets.