V
V
The doors chimed open fewer than thirty seconds later; in that scant time, Abel had traveled so high, seventeen of the eighteen steeples were now far below his gaze.
"The central tower is the summit, isn't it?"
Had the corpse been thrown from this height?
The viewing hall on the central tower's highest balcony was constructed in a circular shape, so it was impossible to see the entire horizon. Carefully keeping open a sharp eye, Abel took one step into the hall. Then, he froze.
A large man stood before him.
The stranger had a scar on his cheek. Judging from his combat uniform and saber, Abel thought this man clearly was no ordinary citizen. His attire was strange, but stranger still was the fact such a man was in a place like this.
Don Biryial — the boss of the Barcelona underwork! — floated nine feet above the floor. He didn't seem to notice Abel. Biryial's eyes bulged.
"Help me," he mouthed. His voice was so strained, almost no sound leaked out. His tongue lolled to the side; saliva hung in a string from its pink tip.
"Help." Gagging, Biryial's eyeballs rolled up into his head. His body convulsed violently, as if he were being electrocuted. In the next instant, his hulking frame began to shrink visibly.
He couldn't groan. Biryial deflated like a pierced balloon. His wrinkled skin turned as gray as an old newspaper. His shriveled eyeballs shrunk to the size of beans. They popped out of his eye sockets and dangled by their optic nerves.
Then, the monster attached to Biryial's mummified corpse floated up into the darkness.
Its colorless, transparent body reminded Abel of a jellyfish. Inside, an umbrella-shaped stomach approximately nine feet in diameter stretched wide with the blood of its prey. Countless tentacles hung from the creature's torso. In the center of its stomach was a beak-shaped mouth. Sharp thorny teeth—teeth which had bitten into Biryial's stomach—trickled blood onto the floor.
"What is this thing?"
"A Sylphide. A Künstliche Geist that I built," a lurking shadow answered quietly. "I succeeded in making it invisible most of the time, but I can't call it a complete success, as it shows itself whenever it feeds. Guten aben, Father Nightroad."
A chandelier suddenly switched on, illuminating the viewing hall's huge pipe organ—and the figure seated in front of it.
"You! The stranger from lunch!"
"Well, we meet again. Sorry for the mess, but you did respond to my invitation of your own free will."
Under his long black hair, which hung down to his hips, the man Abel had met at the restaurant gave a quiet, inhuman smile.
"The truth is simple: My business partner, James Barrie, unilaterally severed all connections. On top of that, he immediately sent this Biryial fool. It was hard for me to relinquish my control over that old man. Although, in retrospect, he atoned for that with his death."
Abel's confusion had been wiped away; in its stead, a sharp tinge of anxiety arose.
No one else should have known about Barrie's probable death except a few policemen and Noelle. This stranger resembled a dangerous man his superior had -warned him about the other day . . .
The stranger sat quietly, peering at Abel as if reading his thoughts. "You've heard about me from your friend, right? Has Father Tres' arm healed?"
"Rosenkreuz!" Abel aimed his gun between the man's eyebrows. "Please, don't move! Both hands on top of your head! There's an arrest warrant for you on the counts of murder, destruction of public property, and interfering with the performance of sacred duties. I advise you to throw down your weapon and surrender!"
"Isaak Fernand von Kampfer. Rosenkreuz Orden, Level 9-2 Magus, title 'Panzer Mager,' which means 'wizard of machines.' I don't mind if you call me Wizard."
With a sarcastic smile pasted on his face, Wizard held out both his hands. Resigned, he showed no sign of resisting.
Abel didn't take his finger off the trigger. He thought about the monster floating above his head; beyond that, his instincts warned him that this man was dangerous. Alarms rang loudly in his head.
"A little while ago, you said Barrie was your partner? If so, the accident at the station — and the five incidents before that, too — was all that your doing?"
"To say I did it wouldn't be accurate. It was Barrie who came to us, requesting we remove the obstacles placed before his company's progress. The Orden and I loaned him our resources and knowledge. This was nothing more than business."
"Terrorism as business? You all commit acts of terrorism for money?"
"Not always for money." Kampfer's voice, abundantly intelligent and soft, sounded agreeable to Abel's ears; however, the man's eyes were as dark as a bottomless pit. Wizard had no emotion whatsoever.
"We of the Order, being dissatisfied with this world, are helping—albeit in a small way—to change the order of things." His tone was ominous.
"We'll speak of that later. I want to know why," Abel said quickly. His heart was pounding. "Why did you summon me here? Why did you drop hints about your crimes?"
"The truth is, Father, I have a little favor to ask of the Vatican. I thought we might be able to make a deal."
"Deal?" What is the terrorist saying?
Gazing amusedly at Abel's furrowed eyebrows, Kampfer continued speaking: "Barrie betrayed us. Well, that in itself means nothing; however, his betrayal meant we've been unable to collect the machinery we'd brought to this city for him."
"Machinery? You mean . . . the dangerous weapon used in those six incidents of terrorism?"
Kampfer nodded. "Yes. It's rather large. We planned to take it out of Barcelona by disguising it as Dominic Company's machinery. However, Barrie... "The man sighed." If it were transported normally, it would be found by the police and destroyed. So, this is where the Vatican comes in. How about it? Won't you help us recover it?"
"That's crazy!" Abel raised his voice without thinking." Why should we help terrorists?"
"Of course, I'm not saying you'd be giving us your help for free. I'll hand over to you the human experimentation data from Barrie's Never Land Island. The Vatican, which fights vampires, should find the materials valuable enough. It'll make your superiors' mouths water. Don't you think it's a good deal?"
"No, there's a better way." Upon hearing of Never Land Island, Abel's expression hardened. Now, he raised his handgun's barrel. "I'll arrest you, then I'll seize both that data and the dangerous weapon. That's the best option, certainly."
"Oh dear, are you breaking off our negotiations?" Kampfer said, his voice sickeningly sweet.
Abel politely responded, "For now, I'll arrest you. Please, tell me the details about the dangerous weapon later. Is that all right?"
"Oh, if that's what you want, rather than explain it, it'd be faster if I showed you. Here." Kampfer struck his palm on the pipe organ's keyboard and a terrifying echo thundered throughout the church. As his long fingers glided across the keys, he wove a beautiful melody that was somehow laced with evil darkness.
"The prelude and fugue of Bach's 552 Opus. It's suited to this beautiful evening."
Palpable grief reverberated through the otherwise silent night. The low sound of a large bell echoed across the church's surrounding steeples. Suddenly, heavy vibrations made the world tremble.
It feels awful, but it's simply music. What connection could it have with the incidents of terrorism?
"What does that organ—"
"You'll soon see. Until then, please exercise a little with him." Kampfer nodded.
"Who? Wah!"
Tentacles cut through the air like blasts of wind. Abel instantly ducked, jumping up and to the side; the tentacles swept passed him, gouging a hole in the place where Abel had been standing.
The Sylphide's semitransparent body was stained bright crimson. The gelatinous blob quivered and pulsed, revolving the tentacles that extended underneath it. The whipcord tentacles retreated, as if the beast were pausing to measure the distance to Abel. Next, it attacked its prey from all four sides at once.
"Huh!"
Abel pulled the trigger of his gun several times. The bullets blew off the creature's fangs and ripped into its six tentacles. As if pained, the translucent blob retreated. As soon as he swapped out his empty cartridge, Abel again pointed his gun at its body. . . .
For an instant, a burning pain lanced through his stomach. The sensation, similar to being pierced by flames, split his abdominal muscles and went through to his back. Contrary to their transparent, gelatinous appearance, the tips of the tentacles were as hard as iron and as sharp as a drill—they were also as swift as lightning.
"These things!"
The six tentacles, severed by bullets, were wriggling around on the floor as if they were alive. All at once, they reared up like poisonous snakes and jumped at Abel.
"Crap!"
The muzzle flashed continuously in Abel's hands. Five of the tentacles blew apart.
The remaining tentacle skewered his right wrist; Abel smashed his arm into the wall. A pulpy, disgusting sound overlapped the noise of bones creaking. When the tentacle fell off Abel's wrist, it looked like a leech that had grown fat from feasting on his flesh. Fresh blood flowed from Abel's wound. The tentacle probably had damaged an artery. The priest was losing feeling in his arm.
He couldn't use his right hand any longer. Moreover, the handgun, out of ammo, had fallen to the floor.
The Sylphide had been watching, waiting for just such an opportunity. Its gracefully supple tentacles easily wrapped around both of Abel's arms, binding him. The creature bared its fangs and descended to attack Abel's throat.
The air shook with sound—but it wasn't from Abel's terrified scream. The Sylphide, struck in the mouth by the saber that had been left carelessly on the floor, howled in pain. The creature's voice churned the air at a frequency inaudible to humans.
The priest had kicked up the saber with exquisite timing, but he couldn't stop to crow about it. The Sylphide fell. Shrinking back, the creature's body lost control of its tentacles. When the huge blob crashed onto the floor, it shook the ground. Unfortunately, the lower half of Abel's body was caught underneath it.
The sound of the priest's leg bones breaking echoed sharply.
"Are you all right, Father?" the terrorist sitting in front of the organ quietly asked. Abel couldn't answer; he was in severe pain. It felt like the lower half of his body was disappearing.
The priest was wounded from head to toe, whereas Kampfer was unharmed. If Abel had been in perfect condition, he still couldn't beat an opponent who'd bested Gunslinger. Kampfer didn't stop playing the organ, which was a clear indication of his confidence that things would go his way.
A small sound rang in his ear: "Hello, Abel?"
"Sister Noelle." Abel did his best to keep his voice calm and level.
"What's with hanging up on me, hm? What's wrong? Your voice is a little strange."
"No, it's nothing—probably, the radio is acting up." It would take twenty minutes to get from the city to the cathedral. Noelle couldn't help him, and he wasn't going to cause her to worry. Sweating profusely, Abel used all his might to continue in a calm voice: "I can hear your voice fine, Noelle. I'm okay."
"Really? You always take too much on yourself. I suppose you don't want to worry anybody, but that makes me worry more." Noelle chatted in her typical "big sister" tone. It seemed she hadn't figured out Abel was bluffing. "Don't do so much, Abel. Everybody's with you, including me. It's okay; we'll support you."
"Thanks. I'm not overwhelmed, so ..."
"If so, then fine. As I was saying before, I found something interesting in the director's office: blueprints. There were also plans for an abandoned church. I didn't know it, but the Dominic Company used a dummy company to buy the Sagrada Familia. Ah, do you know the Sagrada Familia? It's a huge cathedral in the closed district."
He heard a rustling noise; Noelle probably was leafing through documents.
"Barrie was making large renovations to the church. He was changing the bells in the towers to customized echo boards. I wonder why? If it were going to be the company's headquarters, there's no need to deliberately renovate the bells."
A thought skimmed through Abel's mind. It had been nagging at him the whole time: How had they collapsed that station? They'd used neither explosives nor shells. Their weapon was something the eye couldn't see and the ear couldn't hear.
Abel looked down at the bell towers and groaned in amazement. "So, that was it!"
The eighty-eight bells that surrounded the church responded to each musical note played on the organ. The sound waves were concentrated and controlled electrically. The eighteenth tower amplified the sound of the bells.
The Sagrada Familia itself was a huge instrument.
"Noelle, get out of the city!" Abel shouted. Can she escape in time? Despair invaded his heart. He couldn't lose her again! "Noelle! The city is in danger!"
"Wait! There's one more page from the plans," Noelle said. "No way, that building is—"
"Never mind that! Hurry, get out of here!"
"Why are these plans in a place like this? Listen, Abel! Now—" Noelle's breathless voice suddenly was cut off.
"Noelle?" Abel didn't call out to his partner because he'd truly expected to continue their conversation. He simply couldn't bear the uneasy silence. "Noelle, what's wrong?"
No response from the earpiece—not so much as the sound of her breath or background noise.
Seized with a very bad premonition, Abel spoke in a shaky voice: "Noelle, please answer!"
Dimly, he could hear a low rumble.
A bomb? No, something different. It sounded like an unbelievably huge object was falling to the ground.
"Ah."
West of the city, where several banks and businesses were concentrated, dust was rising. Inside that smoke, a tall white building was sinking, as if unable to bear its own -weight.
"Matter has certain characteristics. Far lower than what is audible to humans, matter operates on low-range frequency waves." Wizard seemed indifferent to what he was saying. He didn't seem at all like a murderer who'd just robbed hundreds of people of their lives. "The 'Silent Noise'—the low-frequency resonance decay induction system—incorporated into this bell leads to the destruction of any structure within a targeted area. It's still in the experimental stage, but it seems to be effective. Yes, yes, the Tinker Bell System that you destroyed on Never Land Island is kind of a spin off of this."
The courteous explanation didn't reach Abel's ears, because the Dominic Pharmaceuticals building in the west still was collapsing.
As if triggered by that, buildings beside the Dominic Company office started crumbling. Like milk poured into coffee, white smoke billowed into the darkness of the town itself. Harbor and church, market and main street, ramshackle homes of the poor and mansions of the rich—everything was being destroyed. The work of millions of lives and a few thousand years was morphing into a mountain of rubble, destroyed by a low rumble. The reality was so harsh that it seemed surreal.
'"He who sees beauty is taken early by the hand of Death'— Plato. What did you think of this evening's performance, Father? I hope you enjoyed it." Wizard bowed respectfully.
In answer, Abel let loose an ominous scream, cursing the world. A tremendous spray of blood seemed to soak the very air of the church as the priest tore the Sylphide into tiny pieces.
Abel's hoarse voice echoed nightmarishly throughout the hall. "Nanomachine Crusnik 02 forty percent limited performance— authorized!" The priest's eyes were stained the color of blood.
Abel twirled a huge scythe, which had swords on either end of its handle. A blade as dark as night swung at Kampfer's head with such force that it pressurized the air. "How dare you? How dare you!"
Looking up at Abel's enraged eyes, Kampfer said seriously: "I'm very sorry that you seem to be displeased. This, too, was business." He stood quietly, placing both hands in his pockets.
Abel's scythe was stopped a few inches above his head, as if Wizard were standing behind an invisible wall. "Our next client wanted to see the power of Silent Noise in action. We gave him a demonstration."
"For that kind of thing ..."
Abel's face had changed drastically. He was no longer the easygoing, people-loving, clumsy priest. He didn't look human, in any case. "You killed her ... for that?"
He slowly lowered his blade using sheer willpower. Ripping apart the defensive electromagnetic Shield of Asmoday spread around Kampfer, Abel's jet-black weapon descended toward the crown of his enemy's head—fifteen inches, five inches, two inches.
Kampfer's voice was calm as he looked up at his impending death. "Indeed. You want to make the whole world your enemy."
The red-eyed monster froze.
"You want to make an enemy of the whole world all at once, don't you, Abel?"
He'd heard those words before. A soft voice. A kind smile. He'd once believed that everything in the world was filled with hostility, but that was a long time ago. He'd heard those words before...
"Where?" The scythe's terrible strength suddenly disappeared. "Answer me! From whom did you hear those words?"
"We'll meet again, Father Nightroad. No, I should call you Abel."
"Wait!"
Bowing, Wizard's shadow slinked away.
Abel came back to himself, but it was too late. Darkness had enveloped Kampfer's body. Abel's scythe swept downward; instead of spraying the terrorist's blood, it splintered fragments of the floor.
"It can't be. This kind of thing . . ."Abel fell to his knees on the floor, groaning.
There was no sign of anybody in the hall, which was now a ruin ruled by death and silence.
"I ... again, I ..."
The sound of the organ couldn't be heard anymore.
***
Caterina was pale as she returned to her private chamber. When she got to her desk, she sighed deeply, ducking under the golden hair that hung over her face.
"How was the conference, Your Eminence? Any developments?" asked Sister Kate, the holographic nun with the mole under her eye.
"The perpetrator of the Barcelona incidents has been identified."
News of the destruction in Barcelona had reached Rome three days earlier. Caterina hadn't slept at all since then. Anyone other than the "Woman of Steel" would have passed out by now.
"Barrie was responsible for the crimes. He got his hands on lost technology somewhere, using it to eliminate any hindrances to the experiments carried out by his own company. Unfortunately, the technology ran amok, and he destroyed the whole Barcelona business district along with himself." She grimaced. "Well, that's what the public announcement will say."
"There's no way an individual could get their hands on that much lost technology!"
"The cardinals' conference has come to that conclusion. Their version of the events is the Vatican's public opinion on the matter. Those foolish old men! They don't know anything!"
Caterina pounded the desk with her white fist. Sister Kate's hologram flickered as if she were afraid of the violent emotion her superior suddenly showed.
"The Orden is unbelievably sly. We're puppets, always dancing on their stage. The puppeteers won't show themselves. It's the same as it was ten years ago!"
"Your Eminence . . ." She's so isolated. Kate gazed pityingly at her superior.
Caterina was wise; if she'd been stupid, she probably wouldn't have become aware of the Orden's existence ten years ago. She might have had a happy family, lived a worldly life . . . she might not have been robbed of those dear to her.
"Sister Kate!"
"Yes!"
The shadow had disappeared from the cardinal's beautiful face, and a glint rekindled in her razor-sharp eyes. "What's the situation in Barcelona? Has Sister Noelle's body been recovered?"
"Seventy percent of it. The damage was so severe, it will take some time."
"Hurry it up. We have to confirm what she discovered."
"Very good. I'll inform those on the scene."
The tragedy in Barcelona was merely a prologue. The Orden undoubtedly was planning its next terrorist attack.
After the hologram of the nun disappeared, Caterina stood up. Leaning on the windowsill, she gazed out through her monocle.
Somber in the soft sunlight of early spring, a cathedral furnished with beautiful cupolas stood tall. Countless people bustled in the square. Not a cloud could be seen in the sky over the refined shops and homes that spread beyond the plaza.
Rome—the closest city to heaven on Earth—was furnished with architecture of perfect beauty and complete harmony.
"That's why it's fragile."
Rome—the greatest city in the world—ignorant of grief, quietly dozed in transient peace.