Nina shook her head. ‘So it was an important religious site. That doesn’t prove that God personally stockpiled his angels there. The ancient Hebrews spread out over a wide area, including into Mesopotamia.’
‘There’s more.’ Cross’s finger moved to other snatches of translation. ‘These Hebrew sections say that the Elders sent the other three angels away for safety, dispersing them as more tribes came into the region. And the older text, the Akkadian, describes how the angels were bound in the first place – or rather, what was bound inside them.’
‘And what would that be?’ said Nina, her cynicism muted by the fact that she now genuinely wanted to know. She had no intention of taking Cross’s deductions at face value, but at the same time she couldn’t deny that his find deserved proper archaeological study.
‘Do you know what the Umm al Binni lake is, Dr Wilde?’ Before she could speak, he provided the answer. ‘It’s a meteorite crater. A meteorite hit Mesopotamia around 2200 BC. The destruction it caused led to the downfall of the Sumerian civilisation – the Sumerians being replaced by the Akkadians.’
‘That’s conjecture,’ Nina corrected. ‘It’s a possible cause for the fall of Sumeria, but there are others. And yeah, I have heard of Umm al Binni. It might be a meteorite crater, but considering the state of things in Iraq since the war, nobody’s been in a big hurry to check it out.’
‘I believe it was a meteorite. And you will too.’ Cross went back to the cabinet, gazing down at the chunk of stone within. ‘Let me quote from Revelation again.’
‘Oh, I doubt I’m gonna be able to stop you,’ she sneered.
Anna strode right up to her. ‘Don’t talk back to the Prophet again. Understand? I can hurt you without hurting your baby.’
‘Anna, that’s enough. For now,’ said Cross. ‘Revelation chapter eight, verse ten: “And there fell a great star from heaven, burning as if it were a lamp.” Now, what does that describe, in modern terms?’
‘A meteorite,’ Nina had to admit – then her mind made a connection to another ancient story. ‘Wait . . . there’s a section in the Epic of Gilgamesh, I think the eleventh tablet, that could be interpreted the same way. It describes the Anunakki – a group of Sumerian sky gods – “setting the land ablaze with their torch” and “shattering the land like a pot”. That’s followed by a great flood, maybe the same one from Genesis, but the timing of the Gilgamesh legend roughly coincides with a date of around 2200 BC.’
Cross exchanged glances with Anna and Simeon. ‘You know your subject, Dr Wilde,’ he told Nina. ‘That proves you’re the right person to find what I’m looking for. But I’m curious. You’re willing to accept Gilgamesh as a source of truth. So why not the Book of Revelation?’
‘Because some of the events in Gilgamesh can be corroborated by other sources. Revelation can’t. It’s a completely stand-alone piece of work, and to be frank, it reads like some sort of drug trip.’
She expected an angry response. Cross’s reply, however, surprised her. ‘Have you ever taken hallucinogenic drugs, Dr Wilde?’
‘What? Of course not.’
‘I have.’ Her surprise grew at the admission. ‘Part of my training with the CIA’s Special Activities Division. It lets them judge if an operative’s likely to give up information under truth agents. I passed the test, by the way.’
Nina gave him a thin smile. ‘Congratulations.’
‘But I discovered something about hallucinations, which I’ve since corroborated from other sources.’ A glance at Simeon; had he been another CIA agent who’d undergone the same training? ‘Anything you see while under the influence is taken from your own subconscious mind – it’s something you’ve already encountered, but reflected back at you in a distorted way, like a funhouse mirror. You can’t hallucinate something you’ve never encountered before, because there’s nothing for your mind to work with. So if you’ve never heard of an elephant, say, it would be impossible for you to hallucinate an elephant.’
She regarded him dubiously, unsure where the sudden divergence of topic was heading. ‘I’ll . . . take your word for it.’
‘So when I got back from Iraq and started researching – really researching – the Book of Revelation,’ he went on, ‘I realised that John’s visions were very much like my experiences under drugs. The intensity, the reality of what you’re seeing, the way your perception of time skips backwards and forwards, how all your senses are engaged – it made me think that John underwent a similar experience.’
‘Wait, wait a second,’ said Nina. ‘One minute you’re telling me you believe the Book of Revelation is true, that you take it literally – and the next you say that nope, the guy who wrote it was tripping?’
‘I never said I took Revelation literally. I said I believe it’s true – that it contains the truth.’
‘I don’t understand,’ she was forced to admit.
He clasped his hands together as if about to deliver a sermon. ‘I quit the CIA and went on a pilgrimage – to Patmos. There’s a monastery there, the Monastery of St John, marking where John wrote the Book of Revelation.’
‘The Cave of the Apocalypse.’
‘You know it?’
‘I know of it. John supposedly lived in the cave during his exile, and that’s where he wrote Revelation. I’ve never been there, though.’
‘You should.’
‘Let me go, and maybe I will.’
That prompted a mocking snort from Simeon. Cross gave him a stern look, making him lower his head in penance, then continued: ‘I visited the cave, and saw the crack in the ceiling through which John heard the voice of God telling him to write down his visions. I also saw that water comes down through it from above. Now, the land around the monastery is private, but that never stopped me before. And you know what I found growing in the woods? Psilocybin mushrooms. Hallucinogens. It looked like the monks had tried to clear them, but there were still patches hiding away. And if they’re growing naturally there now, there’s no reason to think they wouldn’t have been there two thousand years ago.’
‘So . . . you really do think that John was tripping when he wrote Revelation?’
Cross nodded. ‘The water might have been contaminated. Or he could even have eaten the mushrooms, not knowing what they were. But yes, I believe that his visions were psychoactive hallucinations.’ His gaze intensified. ‘So I had to find out where they came from.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I told you – you can’t hallucinate something you haven’t experienced. Yet John described mountains falling from the sky, the sea turning to blood, cities being destroyed – and he also described the twenty-four Elders, and the angels bound at the Euphrates.’ He returned to the laptop and pointed at the statue in the centre of the image. ‘He described this!’
She frowned. ‘But he couldn’t possibly have seen it.’
‘No. But someone could have described all those things to him. Or, more likely, he read about them, and all the other things that came from his subconscious when he had his vision. They were described so vividly, with such detail, that his mind was able to visualise them perfectly.’
‘So where did he read about them?’
‘The answer’s in Revelation. Chapters two and three are the letters that the Lord told John to send to the seven churches: Ephesus, Smyrna, Pergamum, Thyatira, Sardis, Philadelphia and Laodicea.’
‘All in modern-day Turkey,’ said Nina.
‘And all places that John must have visited to know so much about them. The Ephesians hated the Nicolaitans, the Smyrnans were rich, the Thyatirans tolerated the presence of the false prophet Jezebel – and he also knew that Antipas the bishop, his friend, was martyred in Pergamum.’ He watched Nina expectantly, as if waiting for her to make a connection.
One came almost immediately. ‘Pergamum is another name for Pergamon,’ she said. ‘And Pergamon had one of the largest libraries of the ancient world.’ His expression confirmed that she had guessed correctly. ‘Is that
what you’re saying? You think John read something there that formed his visions in Patmos?’
‘That’s exactly what I think, Dr Wilde,’ Cross replied. ‘The library contained the ancient texts of the Elders – a record of the meteorite strike and the binding of the four angels at the Euphrates.’
‘Well, I can tell you a big problem with your theory right away,’ she said. ‘Mark Antony took everything from the Library of Pergamon to give to Cleopatra as a gift. He cleared the place out, every last scroll. There’s no exact date for that, but he died in 30 BC – long before Jesus was born, never mind John. And Antipas died in AD 92, so Revelation couldn’t have been written until after then.’
‘The Library of Pergamon still existed for centuries after John wrote Revelation,’ Cross told her dismissively. ‘Either Mark Antony didn’t really take its entire contents, or some were hidden from him. John was still able to visit and read what he found there.’
‘That’s just supposition, though,’ she objected. ‘You’re making things up and presenting them as facts to fit your theory.’
‘It’s not a theory!’ he barked, making her flinch. ‘It’s the truth! I know it’s the truth, because God led me to it!’ Another stab of his forefinger at the image of the angel on the laptop. ‘I found the angel! I witnessed its power with my own eyes!’
Nina tried to control her returning fear. Cross was revealing himself as a zealot, and she knew from experience that such people were most dangerous when their beliefs were directly challenged. ‘What power?’ she asked, hoping to calm him by bringing him back to his pet subject.
He ignored her. ‘I found the truth on Patmos. I know what caused John to write the Book of Revelation – and I know it holds something real. I came here and established the Mission away from the corruption and sin of the world, and it gave me clarity. I’ve seen the truth. I believe it, my followers believe it, and you’ll believe it too. You won’t be able to deny it when I find the other angels!’
‘That’s what this is about?’ she said. ‘Finding the rest of the angels from Revelation?’
Cross nodded. ‘The Elders kept one of them at the temple in Iraq, but hid the other three for safety. I believe they wrote down where they hid them, and that this text ended up in the Library of Pergamon, where John read it.’ He stared at the remains of the statue once more. ‘He might not have realised its significance, at least consciously, but when he had his visions in the Cave of the Apocalypse, his mind, guided by God, brought it all back to him. He wrote down everything he saw during the vision. It was all mixed up, scrambled, surrounded by other hallucinations, but it was still based on what he’d read about the Elders and the angels.’
He whirled back to face Nina, white robes swirling. ‘That’s what I believe the Book of Revelation is, Dr Wilde. It’s a code. And I’ve spent twelve years reading it, uncovering its secrets – cracking that code. The texts I found in the temple gave me the clues I needed to decipher it.’
‘This?’ Nina protested, waving at the laptop’s screen. ‘This is gibberish!’
‘You don’t need to read every word in a book to understand the story. It told me enough. I know where to find the angels – at least, I know which parts of Revelation contain the clues leading to them. What I don’t know yet is where these locations are in the real world.’
Realisation dawned. ‘And that’s why you need an archaeologist.’
‘Exactly,’ Cross replied. ‘Someone with the knowledge and experience to join the dots, to make the connections between the places John saw in his visions and where they are today.’
‘But why me?’ objected Nina. ‘Your followers have obviously given you plenty of money if you’ve been able to build all this. You could have just hired somebody to work it out. Why kidnap me and Eddie?’
‘I didn’t want to involve an archaeologist until now, because they have their own biases that would have made them deny the truth. Just like all scientists. But you don’t have the option to deny it. And . . .’ The cult leader smiled. For the first time, the sense of malevolence lurking beneath the surface came out into the open. ‘You were highly recommended by an associate of mine.’
The words sent a chill through her. That suggested Cross was working with someone with a personal grudge against her – but who? She and Eddie had made a lot of enemies . . .
She didn’t have time to worry further about it as Cross spoke again. ‘Three locations are given special significance in the text of Revelation: “the Synagogue of Satan”, “the Throne of Satan”, and “the Place in the Wilderness”. I think they’re where the other angels are hidden.’ He closed the laptop and gestured towards the door. ‘Your job, Dr Wilde, is to find them.’
Nina suddenly realised that she already knew the true identity of one of the locations – but managed to hide her recognition of the fact, not wanting to give anything to her kidnapper. Instead she summoned up resistance. ‘I’m not doing a damn thing until I know Eddie’s okay.’
Simeon advanced on her. ‘You were warned—’
‘Wait, Simeon,’ said Cross. ‘I was always going to let you see your husband, Dr Wilde. This way. Please.’ The unpleasant smile returned.
That alone made Nina feel more worried than ever, but she followed him back into the control room, Anna and Simeon again shadowing her. The screens were still cycling through clips of her at the Mission and in New York, but her eyes went straight to the single monitor showing the live feed of Eddie.
Cross went to his chair and tapped at a touchscreen. The dizzying display before him faded to black. Another command, and the curved video wall came back to life, the image of Eddie bound to the chair spread across it. The camera was offset to his right, looking down at him. ‘Mr Irton,’ said Cross. ‘Can you hear me?’
‘Yes, sir, I can hear you,’ came the reply. The new voice was American, like Cross and his lieutenants, the accent suggesting that the speaker was from one of the south-western states.
‘Dr Wilde is with me. Could you wake her husband, please?’
‘I sure can.’ Nothing happened for several seconds – then a plume of water lanced in from the bottom of the screen and hit the Englishman in the face.
Nina gasped as he thrashed and coughed. ‘Eddie!’
5
Eddie slammed painfully back to wakefulness as the frigid water hit him. He struggled to breathe, the sudden cold squeezing his chest tight – then realised he couldn’t move. His arms were pinned painfully behind his back. Still straining to draw in air, he shook and writhed, trying to get loose.
No joy. Something was biting into his wrists. Handcuffs. No way to break them, but if there was enough slack in the chain, he might be able to bring his hands in front of him . . .
He couldn’t. He was in a chair, a single metal pole supporting its broad back, and couldn’t spread his arms far enough apart to lift them up around it. His ankles were secured too, tied to the chair’s legs.
But he felt the whole seat flex slightly as he struggled. If he kept going, he might be able to crack a weld or strip a screw—
Movement nearby. He looked up, shaking icy water from his eyes, and knew he wouldn’t get the chance.
Three men stared stonily back at him. The same bastards who’d attacked him on the street, shooting him with a Taser and bundling him into a van to be gagged . . . and drugged. They’d stuck him with something to knock him out. He had no idea how long he’d been unconscious, but he was both hungry and thirsty, with a groggy headache and raw, gritty eyes.
His surroundings came into focus beyond the trio. A warehouse or factory, derelict, grey daylight leaking in through grubby windows high above. Dirty crates and unidentifiable rusting machinery glinted with cobwebs. Closer by were some metal cases, their cleanliness telling him they had been brought by his kidnappers. His leather jacket lay crumpled on the floor nearby.
He also saw a video camera mounted on a tripod, connected to a laptop on a wooden bench. The red light by the lens suggested th
at he had an audience—
A voice cut through his fear. ‘Eddie!’
‘Nina!’ he yelled back. ‘Nina, where are you?’
‘She’s not here,’ said the older man mockingly. ‘Prophet? He’s awake.’
‘Yes, I can see,’ came another disembodied voice from the laptop, an American man. ‘Dr Wilde, you can talk to your husband. Briefly.’
‘Eddie!’ Nina cried over the speakers. ‘Are you okay?’
‘I’ve been better,’ he replied, blowing more dripping water off his face. ‘And I’m fucking freezing. These twats just woke me up with a bucket of ice water!’
‘Watch your mouth,’ said the blond man, a plaster across his broken nose.
‘Fuck off.’
The man’s face twisted with anger. Eddie saw the punch coming, but was completely unable to resist. It hit his stomach, hard, leaving him breathless.
‘No, stop!’ Nina shouted. ‘Leave him alone!’
‘Mr Chase,’ said the man with Nina, ‘I’d advise you to watch your language. Go on, Dr Wilde.’
‘You son of a bitch,’ she muttered, before raising her voice again. ‘Are you all right, Eddie?’
‘Like I said,’ he wheezed through gritted teeth, ‘been better. Where are you?’
‘I don’t know – somewhere in the tropics, I think. They took me from the apartment and brought me here.’
Worry gripped him. ‘Is the baby okay?’
‘Yeah, as far as I can tell. They were going to drug me, but when I told them I was pregnant, they backed off.’
‘Oh, so they’re the caring kind of kidnappers. Good to know. What the hell do they want with us?’
‘They’re . . . they’re using you to force me to cooperate. Eddie, they say they’ll torture you if I don’t do what they want.’
A different cold ran through him as he guessed what was in the cases. ‘Why? What are they after?’
‘It’s about the Book of Revelation, they—’
Sudden silence as the call was muted. ‘Nina?’ Eddie shouted. ‘Nina! Put her back on, you fucking shithead!’