The Prophecy - 22. Chapter 22

Antoine Lambert opened another file. He knew he was taking an enormous risk. Sweat covered his forehead and his hands were trembling. Alexandre Lefèvre would immediately take steps, if he found out about his activities.

Alexandre Lefèvre was not an idiot, but only an idiot would have written down the secret code in a document and saved that document to the company’s server. Lambert was aware of it and yet he could not stop his search.

Only few people had access to the protected section and even fewer had access to the protected folder. Lambert had been denied access to it, but he had seen Geraldine typing the invisible password and he had memorized the keys she had pressed. He had remembered all keys but the last one, but it had not been very difficult to find the missing letter.

Furtively, Lambert had opened the protected folder and had spied on the hidden files and programmes, but he had found only little that he had not already found out about one way or other before. One programme, however, had shocked him to the core.

It was the programme that Alexandre Lefèvre had started a couple of hours ago and that was now running automatically. Lambert had found out that the automatic programme could only be stopped by entering a specific code. Antoine Lambert was looking for this exact code.

He opened the last file and closed it and then gazed at the computer screen. He was cold and his mind was blank. Nothing. Lambert leaned back in his chair and sat motionless for a couple of minutes. He knew that they traced the activities on the server, but he didn’t care.

Antoine Lambert looked into the room. It was past midnight, but he was certain that nobody missed him. The inner circle had gathered in Alexandre’s office room. Lambert had no idea what they were doing. Geraldine had not answered his questions. He had not seen her or heard from her for a couple of hours.

Lambert stood, went to the window and looked into the night. The final hours of the world had come, at least of the world he had known. His body felt cold. Lambert felt empty and hollow. What had become of him? Again and again he asked himself this very question.

He had fallen for the devil’s daughter. The devil’s daughter had seduced him. Shouldn’t he have known better? A church historian, a sober scientist, who knew all of the churches’ claims, errors, and failures. He had fallen for a dark and obscure sect. Had they brainwashed him or had he volunteered? Antoine Lambert couldn’t say anymore. He had been profoundly wrong and grievously mistaken, at least until.... Lambert straightened. When had he started to change his mind? Lambert clenched his hands. He had changed his mind when he had met Jason, the antagonist, in person.

Lambert pressed his hands against the cold window pane. Jason, the antagonist, was a nice young man who – Lambert was certain on this meanwhile – had no clue of his mission at all. The older man, Leonard Sullivan, who had accompanied him, had also accidentally gotten involved. Where were the two men? Had they returned to London? Had Geraldine’s men found them already? Were they still alive or dead meanwhile? If the latter, then he, Lambert, was not without guilt.

Lambert stood motionless for a minute, but then returned to his desk and opened his email programme. He opened the emails that Jason Bolding had sent him a couple of days ago. Lambert shook his head. A couple of days ago, he had been convinced that Jason Bolding had contacted him in order to challenge the secret order. Lambert read the emails again. Following an impulse, he clicked the reply button. Lambert looked at the message window and then he closed it again. His shoulders slumped down.

Two floors up, Alexandre Lefèvre leaned back in his chair. He looked at the other members of the order’s inner circle.

"Robert has arrived in Ahmedabad. The operation is under way and the couriers are ready to set off. Every man will have arrived at his destination on Thursday morning our time at the latest. The distribution will start at noon our time. It’s a concerted action. The men won’t have to worry about the time differences. They will open the vessels at exactly the same time. They’ll receive a command sent by the automatic programme. It has started its work. No difficulties so far. Everything’s proceeding according to plan," he said.

Alexandre Lefèvre paused and looked from one to the other.

"There’s a minor problem, though, that so far we have not been able to solve. Jason Bolding. Any news as to his whereabouts?" he asked.

"Disappeared. So far, we were not able to locate him. Escaped with the others in Alec Connelly’s car. A neighbour saw Gary Conelly’s grandson driving down the road in the evening, but didn’t remember the exact time of the day," one of the executive directors reported.

Alexandre Lefèvre looked at the ceiling for an instant, before he turned his eyes back to the others.

"Personally, I don’t think he’s a threat to us, but let’s play it safe. Find Alec Conelly’s car. Find the four men. Eliminate them. Eliminate Jason Bolding," he said to his daughter. His look was cold and his voice was sharp and tolerating no dissent.

Geraldine gave a barely visible nod.

Alexandre Lefèvre leaned back. “Call Lambert," he commanded.

One of the executive directors jumped up. Geraldine gave her father a questioning look.

"Antoine met Jason Bolding and Leonard Sullivan for lunch. Sullivan might have mentioned Gary and Alec Conelly. I want to question Antoine. Every detail is important," Alexandre Lefèvre said.

Antoine Lambert entered the room ten minutes later. His face showed a haunted and frightened expression. Geraldine gave him a condescending look, but Lambert didn’t see it. He looked at Alexandre Lefèvre. The man measured him. The other members of the board also fixed his eyes on him. Lambert stood in the room and pushed his trembling and sweaty hands into the pocket of his suit jacket.

"You met Bolding and Sullivan for lunch," Alexandre Lefèvre said. His voice was harsh and unpleasant. "They have returned to England, but unfortunately we lost track of them. We suspect that they are hiding somewhere and we suspect they are in company of Gary and Alec Connelly, grandfather and grandson. Did Sullivan mention them? Think hard, Antoine."

Antoine Lambert looked from one to the other. The board members were seated around a big conference table. Everybody’s eyes rested on him. Lambert swallowed. He thought of the meeting in the restaurant and the dinner at Geraldine’s house.

"No," he said finally. "I’m certain Sullivan did not mention the name Conelly." He looked at Geraldine. "You met them also," he said.

Geraldine straightened in her chair. She looked at her father. "Leonard Sullivan did not mention their name," she confirmed.

Alexandre Lefèvre raised his hand. He was about to dissolve the meeting, but was interrupted by a telephone ringing. He turned his eyes to the red telephone on his desk. He looked startled for a moment, but then he reached out and forcefully seized the receiver of the phone.

"Oui," he shouted.

The others watched him with concern. The emergency telephone had rung.

"Find them. Trace the IP or whatever. Find them," he hissed into the phone.

He put the receiver down and looked at the others. His look was grim and alarmed.

"Someone opened the protected folder Operation Abbadon," he said.

The atmosphere in the room was tensed in an instant. Geraldine and the executive directors straightened in their chairs and fixed their eyes on Alexandre Lefèvre.

"Whoever gained access to the folder and thought he was clever enough to leave no trace was terribly mistaken," Alexandre Lefèvre said in a dangerous and menacing voice. He leaned back in his chair and looked at the others with a content smile. "They’ve signed their own death warrant.”

Antoine Lambert retreated slowly to the far end of the room where he sat down in a chair. He was feeling hot and cold at the same time. Lambert looked at the board members with widened eyes. They had traced the activities on the server. He had been aware of it. His heart was pounding fast, He clenched his hands and teeth. Lambert felt trapped in Alexandre Lefèvre’s room. Was there a way out of it? Was there an escape? Antoine Lambert’s mind was chaos, but none of the board members took notice of his inner turmoil.