The Devil's Greatest Trick

As those who have seen The Usual Suspects will know, the Devil's greatest trick was to make people believe he did not exist. It seems to your author that the Egyptian Army, which, let us not forget, has been running the country for 60 years, has achieved a comparable feat in setting itself up as the guarantor of liberty and democracy. Alas, for the true believers, it seems as though, to misquote the French, his horns are appearing. Sticking with the cinematic analogy, the behaviour of the West in the whole episode seems scarily akin to that of Captain Renault in Casablanca, when he discovers that gambling is permitted in Rick's Cafe. While one should not forget, as many do, Mr Mubarak's years of unwavering support for Western interests, often at extreme personal cost, no-one in their right mind ever saw him as a staunch democrat. Both films, of course, feature a "sting in the tail", and one cannot but fear that the same will occur in Egypt, to the disappointment of those who lined Cairo's squares and streets. At least in fiction, life is simpler, and more straight forward. Or is it?

Chapter 27

Berlin

After their lunch, Elena and Simon had returned to their rooms to continue their recuperation. When Elena awoke from her nap, it was late, so she called Simon and suggested that they have breakfast the next day. In truth, Simon was relieved. His conversation over lunch had set his mind racing and he needed time on his own to think. What if there was a spy in the Order? He could not quite grasp the concept, but he equally could not fault his logic.

He had been in the room for almost 24 hours now and was beginning to feel the walls closing in. He had watched all of the television channels he understood, which was relatively few, his German, Russian and Arabic not being what they might. Sod it he decided, he needed a walk. Picking up his coat and key, he left the room and turned down the hall to the escalators. He pressed the button before noticing the man sitting on the sofa between the lifts.

“Dr Pelham” he said, standing up.

Startled, Simon nodded.

“Are you going somewhere?” the man asked. His cheap, ill-fitting suit suggested a policeman, but Simon was not sure.

“Yes, going for a walk.” Simon replied.

“I don’t think that is a good idea. Agent Waldheim would be most upset if anything else happened to you. Please return to your room.” The man took Simon by the arm and gently turned him around and propelled him forward, just as the elevator arrived.

“All I want is to go for a walk. I need to get out of the room for a while.”

“Dr Pelham, several people have tried to kill you. It is not safe for you to be roaming the streets. Please stay in your room. You are in a 5 star hotel, it cannot be that bad.”

“But we had lunch downstairs earlier. Why can’t I go down for dinner?”

“We know you did doctor, but unfortunately, there is another demonstration taking place tonight, and more tomorrow. We cannot afford the officers, so we cannot take any unnecessary risks. I am sorry, but you have survived several murder attempts, it would be best for you to stay in.”

Simon saw his point, and realised that there was little point in arguing. Doubtless the policeman had a gun, and Simon had seen enough of them recently not to want to see any more. Safely deposited in his room, he ordered room service and prepared to watch CNN for the the seventh time that day.

The next morning, it turned out that Elena had a visit from the doctor so was unable meet Simon for breakfast. Increasingly frustrated with his gilded prison, he once more tried to escape, this time to eat in the hotel restaurant. Once more, he was turned back and forced to dine alone. He wondered if the Germans suspected him of some involvement in the recent crimes, and were subtly trying to destabilize him into a confession.

As he was moving from grumpiness and paranoia into depression, a progression not helped by the measly serving of jam provided for his toast, the telephone rang. It was Elena. The doctor was satisfied with her progress and since Waldheim did not want them to leave their rooms, perhaps he would like to join her for a room service lunch. While not enthused at the prospect of eating once more from the short menu, Simon was pleased with the prospect of some company and readily agreed.

Half an hour before they were due to meet, Elena called him to take his order for lunch. Simon asked for a hamburger (the second time he’d had it in a day), which drew a reasonably pointed remark about his weight and the healthy benefits of salads. However, she carried on to say that some people could carry a bit of extra weight, and she quite liked the teddy bear look anyway. Blushing slightly, Simon hung up and got ready.

When Elena opened the door, the first thing to strike his senses was the smell of fried onions and burger. His hostess showed her displeasure by wrinkling her nose and shaking her head.
“You do realise I’ve got to sleep in this room” she said. “It’s like being gassed.”

“You can always open the window.” Simon said, moving past her to remove a chip from his plate.

“It’s minus 10 outside.”

“You could always come to my room.” Simon replied, surprising himself with his confidence.

“Tempting offer.” Elena replied. “But I’ll stay here with my onions”, she winked at him teasingly.
“They might not be so cuddly, but they’re much better for my health.”

They ate the rest of their lunch, which was cooling rapidly, and washed it down with some cokes from the mini-bar; diet for Elena.

When they had finished, Simon decided to broach the subject he had been mulling in his mind overnight.

“I’ve been thinking about our discussion yesterday. We came to the conclusion that there must be a spy in the Order.”

“Yes, I remember. I’ve been thinking about it too. I don’t see any other possible explanation.”

“Neither do I. But that’s where the problem lies.”

“What?”

“We’ll, I’m the Order’s newest member. I only knew another two, your father and Dr Fleicher. that’s three in total, but there are another nine out there. One of them must be the spy.”

“So we need to find these other nine people.”

“Yes, and one of them must be the spy. The only thing is, I’ve got no idea of who they are.”

“Didn’t my father tell you?”

“No, he told me about the history of the Order, what it does and the treasures it protects, but nothing about who the other members are.”

“Maybe if we look at the list of treasures, that will tell us?”

“I don’t think so. Each of the treasures is in a different country. Fleicher protected the lance, that much is clear, and I think your father protected the lost Eagle of Varus. I’m from England, so presumably I’m meant to look after Excalibur.”

“See, it’s not that hard.”

“But that’s the point, it is that hard. We could guess that Fleicher looked after the lance, that was his job in real life anyway, but your father and the Eagle? How could we know that?”

“Well, he was always interested in Roman history, particularly in Germany.”

“You know that because you’re his daughter. I looked him up on Google last night, and there was nothing to show any interest in history, let alone ancient history, whatsoever. If you look up Jonathan, there’s no mention of Excalibur, or Arthur or anything like that. I knew him better than anyone, and I would never have guessed. We can’t assume that the members of the Order will have any obvious connection to the objects.

Do you remember your father having any guests from overseas. Places like Japan, Turkey, the States, even Egypt?”

Elena shook her head. “There were always people coming and going, but I don’t remember any specific names or people.”

“We’re stumped then.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Why?”

“Well, presumably there are records somewhere. The Order must have kept a list of its members. Surely my father as Master would have been in charge of keeping the records.
He knew that you were Jonathan’s successor, so he must have known who the other members were.”

“Where do you think he would keep them? In the schloss?”

“No, probably in his apartment in Vienna.”

“Why there?”

“It was where he spent most of his time. If he needed to do something urgently, he would keep the files where he could get hold of them most easily. That means Vienna.”

“I think we need to get back to Austria.”

“Do we?”

“What do you mean? We need to find the spy. The only way I can see of doing that is to find those records which your father must have kept. Therefore we have to go to Austria.”

“I don’t agree. The bad guys, whoever they are, already know about us. That’s why they keep trying to kill us. The cat is out of the bag. There’s nothing we can do about it now. We can find the spy later, the most important thing is to stop these people who keep attacking us. And that means we stay here and help Waldheim.”

“How can we help him? I don’t know anything about them, neither do you. What use could we be?”

“Well, you know about the lance.”

“I don’t really. I know the legend, but I’m hardly an expert.”

“You know more about the background than any of us do, that’s useful. Maybe all that Ancient History has some value after all.” Elena smirked.

“Ancient History has value beyond measure” Simon puffed.

‘I’m only teasing.” Elena replied, attempting to bring Simon round. “You were the one who worked out where the book was, and that led us here.”

“Where we were attacked by a murderous nutter.” he pointed out.

“Where we were attacked, yes, but don’t you see, that must mean that we’re getting closer.Whoever did this must have sent that man because they were worried about us, so we must be getting close. And that’s because of you. You’ve brought us this far, maybe you can take us the rest of the way. It will only be capturing these men that makes us safe. There will be time to catch the spy later, but rather than looking for one man who could be anywhere, why not look for a bunch of men, whom we’re relatively sure must be in Germany?”

Simon thought. “I think you’re right.” He admitted grudgingly. “But I still don’t see what we can do. I mean Waldheim has the whole resources of the German state behind him, all we’ve got is ourselves and the internet.”

“Waldheim is looking at this as a murder inquiry. And, in some ways, he’s right. But we know there’s more to it than that, and I don’t think he’s really focusing on that side of things. If we can work out what’s happening with the lance, maybe we can find this gang that keeps attacking us.”

“Go on.”

“Well, we know about the book, and we know about the lance, so maybe we should try to concentrate on the two of them together. We know from Weiss that the Nazis thought the book somehow activated the Spear, but what does that mean? What were they trying to do? Why did they go to all the effort in the last days of the War, when they could have spent their time more profitably trying to escape?”

“I agree with you about that. Germany was crawling with Allied soldiers. They must have known that the end was only days away. Yet, they spent their last hours with this ancient object. Now, I know they must have been desperate, but there must have been something about it that would have made all that effort worthwhile. Whatever it was meant to do must have been so spectacular that it would have turned back the allies, or at least make them sue for peace. What could do that?”

“I can’t think of anything, but isn’t that the point? The Lance is not something from our everyday experience, but something much more powerful, almost otherworldly.” Elena replied, aware that she was straying from the sorts of hypotheses drummed into her at Police College.

“You know, your father said something that made me think. He said that the Order was formed when science had reached the stage when it could test the objects and confirm their power. It was at that point that the treasures moved from being objects of faith, to objects with verifiable powers. That was when they became dangerous, when people would accept that their abilities were real and not just old wives’ tales.

Now, if we could find some way of accessing that research, maybe we could find out what the powers of the Spear are supposed to be. And if we can do that, we might just be able to get a handle where our friends are.”

“Very good. See, I knew you could do it when you tried.” Elena smiled. “What’s the next step then?”

“Simple, we find the research that was done on the Lance in the nineteenth century.”

“And how will we do that?”

“I have a friend who knows everything.”

“Who’s that?” Elena asked, remembering her last encounter with one of Simon’s friends in Athens.

“Mr Google”

The luck of the Poles

First of all, the blog sends its best wishes to Robert Kubica, the Polish Grand Prix driver who was severely injured over the weekends. The chances of Robert being a reader of this blog are, of course, slim, but it is the thought that counts apparently. One of the most talented drivers currently in the series (his 2010 results were far better than the car he was driving deserved), he was a widely tipped future world champion. Given the extent of his injuries, it remains to be seen whether that will be possible. With his team now anxiously searching for a replacement, your author's thoughts immediately turn to another rally-driving Formula 1 champion, who if not renowned for his media skills, is certainly a legend on the track. While that will likely remain an idle dream, your own desires for more novel action are not, and so we move on to the next chapter.

Chapter 26

The Thuringian Forest

Max returned with two of his men who unhooked the dead prisoner and dragged him from the room. They would dispose of him later, but Max told them to wait as there would be at least one more body. He himself went to collect the next subject, choosing the drunk he had picked up in Halle.

It must have been the combination of the alcohol in his system and the drugs, but the man seemed even more insensate than his predecessor. He was heavier too, and Max struggled to drag him back to the experiment chamber. By the time he had got him there, he was sickened by the odour of sweat, urine and drink which hung around the man like a miasma.

Hanging him up like his predecessor, Max turned to Ortwin and said. “Your next subject is ready.”

“Go through the book once more, doctor, we need to get this right.” Ortwin said to Genscher who had by now entered some netherland of panic.

The librarian returned to the book, studying it intently. His fear showed in the fact that he no longer used his gloves, turning the pages with his bare hands. There seemed to be no other mention of the lance, or its powers, so Genscher merely repeated what he had said earlier.

Ortwin shrugged and picked up the spear once more. The drunk seemed to be drifting in and out of consciousness, although soon the choice would be made for him. Permanently. Once more he hefted the lance and drove it into his victim, passing through clothing, skin, and internal organs. Once more the man died shortly thereafter, the massive trauma unsurvivable. Once more, however, there was no light, no noise from the spear, it remained merely a lifeless relic.

Carefully withdrawing it from the corpse once more, Ortwin handed the lance back to Klaus and stomped over to the doctor. Stopping mere inches from his face, he screamed. “You are a fool! This is not working! What are you doing wrong?” Raising his hand, he slapped the librarian in the face, leaving a livid red mark on his cheek. The doctor automatically raised his hand to his sore face, but Ortwin grabbed it, holding him in a vice-like grip and staring into his eyes. “You have 20 minutes to get this sorted.”

Releasing Genscher, Ortwin strode to the door, beckoning Klaus and Max to follow him, leaving the librarian in the room with the corpse.

“That should concentrate his mind” he said as they gathered outside the room.

“Maybe this is all just some wild-goose chase.” Klaus volunteered, surprisingly brave.

Ortwin turned on him, face white with anger. “It is not a wild goose chase, you idiot. We know that the spear works. WE have the book, we have the spear, and still that moron librarian cannot get it to work! What more must we do?”

Klaus stood silently, used to Schwartz’s rages. They usually subsided quickly, and he moved back to the practicalities of the situation. A few deep breaths later, Ortwin had calmed down sufficiently to focus on the matter at hand.

“Right, what do we do now? Do you think the librarian can solve this problem?”

Klaus preferred not to get involved, knowing that if he gave an answer, he would pay for its failure. Max, had less experience of Ortwin, and so less compunction about offering a hostage to fortune. While he may have been a skilled soldier, he was less adept as a politician. Klaus noticed this and filed it away, preparing for the future.

“One thing strikes me.” he offered. “Both of the subjects we have used so far have been drugged, maybe that has something to do with it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, both of the subjects so far have had large doses of Rohypnol in their systems. Maybe it somehow interferes with the lance, stops it working properly.”

“Mmm.” Ortwin thought. ‘So you think if we used a live subject as it were, the results might be better.”

“There’s only one way to find out. I think you understand what I mean.”

The others nodded.

“Besides, we only have one more guinea pig left, and although I have no problems in getting more, it does raise potential issues of operational security.”

“I see your point, we don’t want anyone poking around at this stage. But if we do this and it doesn’t work, what are we going to do then. None of us read Latin or Greek.”

“If it doesn’t work, it is because of something else, it won’t be anything to do with the book. Besides, I have a plan. It may be that fate has given us a gift.” Max said gnomically.

“Alright, I’ll talk to the doctor, you get the body out of there.”  Ortwin turned on his heels and went back into the room.

“Alright doctor, what is the answer?” Schwartz said in a tone which would brook no opposition.

“I have an idea.” the librarian stammered.

“What?” Ortwin snapped, keen to keep pressure on Genscher.

“Well, you see, there are two different ways of pronouncing Greek. We obviously don’t know how ancient Greeks spoke, but we can guess. Most people just assume, as I have been, that they spoke like Greeks do now, but there is another way which scholars sometimes use, based on clues in the ancient texts. I think we may have been pronouncing the incantation wrongly.”

“That’s it? We’ve just been using the wrong accent?”

“That is all I can think of.” Genscher shrugged, hoping that he was right, and hoping that he had done enough.

Two soldiers entered the room and took care of the dead man. Taking one end each, they manhandled him out of the room. Max and Klaus entered and shut the door.

“So, Dr Genscher, this different pronunciation, how does it work?” Ortwin asked, his voice more friendly.

“Thane kai su, uie theou” Genscher said and then repeated himself just to make sure Ortwin got it.

“Thane kai su, uie theou” Ortwin said. “Is that right?”

Genscher nodded, giving him the smile a teacher might give a promising student. “You grasp of langauges is very good, Herr Schwartz.” A little ingratiation could do no harm. Unfortunately, it would also do no good.

“Thank you, Doctor Genscher.”

Feeling slightly better, the doctor felt emboldened to ask a question. “Do you have another subject for us to test?” Appearing to be one of the gang could also do no harm.

“Sadly, no. Dr Genscher, but that won’t be a problem.” Genscher was confused now, but began to realise the true horror of his situation as he felt Max grab his left hand and twist it behind his back. His other hand grasped the librarian’s neck and pushed him forward. when they reached the far wall, Max let go of his neck and snapped a handcuff over the doctors wrist.

Twisting, Genscher turned and tried to hit Max on the side of his face. The soldier parried easily and caught his hand. Smiling, he dragged the librarian back against the wall and closed the other cuff over his arm. Genscher pulled with all his strength, which was not very much, but could do nothing to free himself. Seeing Max still in striking range, he lunged out with his right foot, not sure what he was doing but desperate to try something.

The soldier turned away lightly, and, raising his foot, brought it down on the back of Genscher’s leg, breaking his knee. The doctor roared in agony, his leg utterly useless. He was forced to stand on his good leg, the slightest pressure on the other bringing unbearable pain.

“Shut him up.” Ortwin ordered.

“Yes, sir” Max agreed, enjoying the adrenaline rush from his brief skirmish. Reaching into his pocket, he found a rag which he stuffed into Genscher’s mouth.

Ortwin once more picked up the spear, and crossed to where the doctor was waiting. Unlike the previous subjects, he could sense the fear coming from Genscher, his eyes wide open, his head moving from side to side. For some reason, this would be more satisfying than the previous attempts, just like hunting is more thrilling than merely shooting tethered animals.

“Thane kai su, uie theou”

For the third time that day, the spear tasted flesh, and for the third time, it quickly took it’s victim’s life. However, for the third time, that was all that happened.

Gong Xi Fa Chai

Happy Year of the Rabbit. As Chinese (or more properly, Lunar) New Year has arrived, it seems only fair to extend our good wishes to those who celebrate it (a number similar to that who observe Christmas). One can, of course, celebrate New Year whenever one wishes, all it signifies is an arbitrary point on the Earth's orbit of the sun, but the timing of Lunar New Year is supposed to mark the end of the rainy season, something doubtless of relief to Asian readers. The rabbit itself is supposed to bring peace, diplomacy (unfortunately, it does not seem to have hopped over to Egypt yet) and indulgence - all of which sound perfectly acceptable. While the traditional present at Year Year is a Hong Bao (a red envelope with cash, preferably in multiples of eight), your author proposes something far more valuable, a further chapter of The Holy Lance...

Chapter 25

The Thuringian Forest

“Thane kai su, uie theou Now die, son of god” Genscher translated from the old document.

“That’s it? That’s all he said?”

“Yes, the text is quite specific. The quotation is in Greek, which you would expect since most people in that region spoke Greek, but the description by Gregory is in Latin. I’ll read it for you.

“During my travels, I met the family of the blessed Longinus, who pierced the side of Our Lord and became one of the first Christians. For when he stabbed the Christ, and the blood and water flowed from his side, he saw this as a true miracle and saw that Christ was truly the son of God.

Later in his service with the legion, he was stationed in Britannia, a wild and cold land full of savages. One day, his fort was attacked by the barbarian Picts, an animal-like people, who paint themselves. He took his spear, which had never left his side since that day in Judaea, and went to the defence of his cohort. He saw the leader of the attackers and charged him with the spear. Truly the hand of god was with him, for he uttered once more the words he said when he pierced out Saviour and lo, once more did the spear shine with the white light of God. The ground shook and the sun went dark. The enemy fled, routed.

“Do you really believe this nonsense? You do know that what he is describing is impossible.” Genscher was a modern sceptic obviously.

“There are more things in heaven and earth, doctor” Ortwin replied.

“We all know what happened to Hamlet, Herr Schwartz. The story of the Lance is a myth, a legend, it is only mentioned in one book of the Bible.”

Ortwin was not in the mood for theological discussion, but felt the need to impose himself on the doctor. “You are right, Dr Genscher, the spear is only mentioned in one of the gospels, but we have known since the eighteen hundreds about the discrepancies in the gospels, but that is natural. Four people describing an event will always give four different accounts, have you ever seen the film Rashomon?” He replied, referring to the classic Japanese film where a crime is portrayed through the eyes of four separate witnesses, the culprit only being revealed in the very last version.

When Genscher nodded, Ortwin continued. “We should concentrate on the similarities between the accounts of the four gospels. All four describe the centurion acknowledging Christ’s divinity when he dies, and all four describe super-natural events. The curtains in the Temple of Solomon get torn, Matthew talks of an earthquake, and even of saints being resurrected. It is clear that the death of Christ unleashed awesome power, and Longinus believed that that power was stored in the Lance. Imagine, a spear which could cause an earthquake, darken the skies, turn whole armies to flight. Imagine what a man could do with such a spear.”

Genscher nodded, but he was pale, the realisation of what he was involved with finally catching up with him. Max noticed his reaction, and non too subtly, opened his jacket, revealing for the first time the pistol sitting in the holster attached to his belt. Genscher saw it and realised that there was no backing out, his choice had already been made. What he did not know was that others had made their plans also, and he was not part of them.

“Excellent. Now Doctor, tell me, can we take the book for a little walk?”

“I think so, Herr Schwartz. the book is in excellent condition, the monks must have looked after it well. Even if the conditions elsewhere are different to this room, it should be ok, as long as we do not take too long.” Genscher was much more co-operative. People tended to be when you showed the a gun Max found.

Nodding at Klaus to pick up the book, Ortwin turned to Max and said. “Right now, why don’t you take us to the lab and let us find out if this relic actually works.”

Genscher was confused. “How are you going to do that? It’s quite clear from St Gregory that the spear only releases its power when it kills someone.”

“Exactly doctor. You’ve got it in one. Don’t worry though, we won’t use it on you.” Ortwin smiled, picking up the other case and, turning on his heel, strode into the corridor, Max hurrying to catch up and lead the way. Klaus followed, leaving the librarian at the back, his face the colour of the white-washed walls.

Max led them down the corridor, turning left at the end. The effect of the white washed walls was slightly disorienting, and Ortwin began to wonder if Max knew where he was going, admiring at the same time, the will of the men who had carved out the complex in the depths of the war. They had been true Germans, whose like would soon be seen again, of that he was sure.

The soldier eventually stopped at one of the doors and led them into another room. Even more white than the corridor, if that was possible, the room was lined from floor to ceiling with porcelain tiles. A fluorescent strip light hung from the ceiling, and a metal table stood to one side, giving the room the appearance of a sinister operating theatre, the kind where anaesthetic is a luxury. Which is what it once had been. On the far wall, a couple of metal hooks had been screwed into the tiles, for what purpose, Genscher could only guess, but he was sure it could not be good.

“Let’s get started.” Ortwin said. Klaus lay the book on its stand on the table and set down his case beside it. “Fetch the subject.” He ordered Max. Clicking his heels, the soldier left the room.

Ortwin opened the case, revealing the lance. It lay in its protective foam, silently threatening. He motioned to Klaus who fetched a pole standing in the corner. Ortwin carefully removed the lance from the case and very gently affixed it to the pole. For the first time in over 60 years, the Lance had been returned to its original state, the spear of a Roman centurion, with a band of gold wrapped around the head. The Holy Lance was once more complete, and shortly it would show its true power.

“What do you think, Doctor?” Ortwin asked Genscher.

“It is beautiful, of course.” he said. “But I’ve been thinking. If what you say is true, is it wise to use the Lance? I mean, the earthquakes and so on. What if we get trapped down here?”

“That is why you are a librarian, and I will soon lead Germany. We will be fine. Destiny is on our side” Ortwin snorted. Genscher blanched. The man was obviously crazy, but how could he get out of this? His thoughts were interrupted as Max returned to the room, supporting a man in handcuffs. He looked sleepy, and was obviously finding it difficult to move, Max having to drag him most of the time.

It was the old soldier from Gottingen, but much had changed in the past 24 hours, he had seemingly become lifeless. He made no sound as Max led him to the far wall. No complaint or struggle as the handcuffs were opened at one side, and fastened to the hook jutting from the wall. Max produced a further pair and secured his other hand. The an now had his arms stretched out, as if being crucified.

“He won’t try anything, will he” Ortwin asked.

“Unlikely. He’s had 4mgs of Flunitrazepam. They all have.” Max replied matter of factly.

“I’m not a doctor, what does that mean.”

“Flunitrazepam is marketed as Rohypnol, you know, the date rape drug. He’s had twice the recommended dose. It’s a miracle he’s still awake, let alone standing up.”

As if to prove the point, the captive soldier’s legs chose that moment to buckle, the effect of the drugs removing most of his sense of balance. He was left dangling from the wall.

“I take your point.” Ortwin said. “Prop him up again.”

Max pushed the captive back against the wall, managing to balance him in an upright position. He hoped he would stay that way for long enough for their experiment to take place.

“I think it is now time for the fourth Reich to begin. Remind me of the phrase doctor Genscher.”

“Thane kai su, uie theou.” The librarian stammered, his mind suddenly fully grasping the horror of what was about to take place.

Ortwin repeated the phrase a couple of times, mimicking the librarian’s intonation, and picked up the spear. Crossing to where the man was chained to the wall, he hefted it in his hand, ready to thrust.

“You know, this reminds me of my boyhood in Argentina.” He said. “Bullfighting was popular there, a barbaric sport my father always called it, but we had to go, to mix with the locals, and show off our cattle. As the fight progresses, and the bull gets more tired, they hurl spears into its side to weaken it further, before the matador kills it with his sword. I feel like that now, only our bull here is obviously tired enough already.”

The captives outstretched arms offered a perfect shot and Ortwin knew exactly where to aim.

“Relax my friend, you are about to launch a new chapter in history. Thane kai su, uie theou”

Uttering the phrase first used by Longinus almost 2000 years previously, Ortwin drove the spear into the helpless victim. Plunging into him between the fourth and fifth ribs, the lance sped through his lung and buried itself in his heart. The shock broke through the heavy dose of sedatives, and he cried out in agony. However, it was no use. His hands were manacled tightly to the wall, and no one would help him. Blood from his punctured lung began to bubble out of his mouth, as he breathed his finals breaths. Life seeping away, his head slumped forward.

Ortwin was not paying attention. He was not interested in the man, he was interested in the spear. Strangely though, nothing was happening. There was no glow, not bright light that he could tell. He listened, not sounds of earthquakes in the background. He waited a bit longer. Still nothing. It had not worked.

He slowly and carefully removed the spear from the dead man. It was a delicate task as most ancient weapons were designed to break on impact. That way, the head would stay in the body, so even if the victim was not killed outright, he would be disabled, and there was a high chance of gangrene setting in.

Motioning to Klaus for a cloth, he slowly wiped the spearhead clean, removing the bits of lung it had driven through. Turning to Max, his face grim with anger, he said “Get rid of him, and get me another one.”

Taking a gun from his pocket, he placed it on the table. “Dr Genscher, you have one more chance. I hope for your sake it works next time.”