CHAPTER 8
ZUMERICK ARRIVED at Westminster Abbey half an hour after the call, and no matter what time or how many times he went to that place, he was always impressed by the imposing construction that came from one of the darkest moments in humanity.
Igor passed the church aisle and hurried along until he reached the South Transept, at the place known as Poets' Corner, home to the rest of the great British writers and poets.
— I'm sorry — said Benjamin Morant, supervisor of the Zumerick team, — I know I thought of you as a father.
Igor thanked him as he watched a medical examiner analyze the lifeless body of Abbot Joel Nielsen, he had been his preceptor and the rise to abbot of Westminster, was more than deserved in his view, according to Zumerick, was without a doubt, one of the most notable bishops of the Anglican Church.
'Do you already know something?'
— We only have one clue, those oddities written on the statue of William Blake, the priest there had seen the visitor, but he died while they were talking to him.
Igor saw Father Francis Melneck dead and realized it was the end of an era, Melneck was the most famous priest in the Anglican Church, more famous even than the Bishop of Canterbury, he was a man who had devoted over eighty years to the church, a remember that rarely someone from your generation onwards would win.
— I knew Father Melneck well, he was a great man of God, unfortunately his time has come.
IGOR REALIZED that the inscription symbolized a famous number, it also represented a vague memory of what had been one of the biggest topics debated during his college, coincidentally the class had been taught by Abbot Nielsen.
— Do you happen to know what that means? — Ben Morant asked, bringing the priest back to reality immediately.
That seemed pretty pointless to him. I had been working for days on the new round created and now, out of nowhere, that bizarre inscription appears. In a place that meant absolutely nothing to them.
— It's so strange to show up after so long, and even more so in this way.
— They who?
— A group or organization that became famous on the internet for throwing some riddles and promoting a kind of contest or recruitment for something that no one knows for sure what it is.
— Apparently we found out what it is.
— I don't know… it doesn't seem like something they would do.
— People change, Father.
— I doubt it very much, people are what they are... What happens is that they wear masks, and with time, they remove them revealing their true face.
— So... just open your beak...
FATHER ZUMERICK was thoughtful for a moment.
'And then, Father?'
— If it's them, we're completely screwed.
— It's only half a dozen numbers — Ben Morant said, imagining that the geek on the team would unravel that easily.
Suddenly, the code sentence made perfect sense.
If it hadn't taken so long, maybe he would be alive...
Igor took out his cell phone and reread the message.
Under the watchful eyes of the prophet and Saint William, who does not rest in his holy place, there will be a sacrifice. And, under the symbol of the great beast, the world will know the truth and its own end, in nine days...
There are no more clues, that sentence is the final riddle...
Suddenly, Igor realized that everything fell into place, William Blake's poems were considered prophecies and as profane as he was considered, the Gnostic Church had canonized him as a saint in 1998.
— Did something happen, Father?
He confirmed.
— What happened here was already predicted a week ago on the internet.
— To such an organization?
The priest acquiesced.
— It's not as easy as you think... and them mixing these up with the biblical numbers of the beast makes it even more complex, usually takes almost a month to decipher all the codes.
— You said it took a week.
— Because I've gotten used to their modus operandi, there are still many ways to encrypt a message, things that not even the most famous intelligence services in the world know about.
— I thought you studied for this.
— Don't talk nonsense, you know better than anyone that in any area, there are specialists in certain things... and I am an expert in eschatology by far. I very much doubt that anyone is, even because, for every codex, it takes a key to decrypt it... and they never found the key to the apocalypse, for whoever it was written, its real meaning died with it.
— You're speaking Greek to me.
Igor smiled.
— Coincidentally, the word eschatology, etymologically speaking, is Greek, coming from two words, eschato which means ultimate and logia, study, so, simplifying, it is the part of Theology and Philosophy , which deals with the latest events in the history of the world or the final destiny of the human race, commonly referred to as the end of the world.
— The apocalypse...
The agent nodded.
— In many religions, the end of the world is a prophesied future event in the sacred text , by self— styled people, in a broad way. Eschatology is often related to concepts such as: Messiah or Messianic Age , the afterlife and where the soul of man will go.
— I just don't understand why paint it on him.
The Father smiled. This time, nervous.
— It would be the most natural thing in the world to associate him with the devil, since among the great artists in the history of mankind, none have portrayed the image of satan in their works of art more than William Blake and Gustave Doré, since they both did the illustrations of the classic book, Paradise Lost, by John Milton — Igor pointed to where Milton's bust was — and the Divine Comedy, by Italian Dante Alighieri. Both speak clearly about satan and hell, many experts even claim that we only have a visual image of what satan looks like, because of him... that horn thing, pointy tail etc. However, it is not something that is described in the bible.
— And how does one paint something that one doesn't have the description for?
The priest smiled.
— Let's say the Roman Catholic Church wanted to scare the Templars, who worshiped the image of "Baphomet".
— That image of the Freemasons, half human, half sheep?
— Exactly! So, to associate them with the devil, they made an alliance with King Felipe of France, and on a Friday the 13th, they killed the vast majority of the Templars, hence the origin of the term, "Friday the 13th" being a date referred to at random.
Ben Morant nodded.
— Today we have the image of a devil famous to scare little children of faith, a being with wings, horns and a pointed tail with a pitchfork in his hand.
— You did a fine job.
— Have no doubts.
— Now we will have to solve this riddle.
— So, let me get this straight... are you saying that there is a group or organization that killed a person and left this riddle for us to solve?
— In short, that's it, Ben. Or at least, that's what it appears to be.
Benjamin Morant scratched his head, not understanding anything, he was adept at practical things and worst of all, he had dyscalculia, that is, he didn't understand what the priest was saying about numbers.
HE LOOKED AT THE EFIGIE on the bronze memorial bust of one of his favorite painters, with the Greek numerals χιϛ painted in blood on his forehead.
Chi...
Iota...
Sigma...
Underneath the date of his death was also written in the abbot's blood, the best— known digital signature of the Internet age.
845145127
— It may seem silly, but this number here was a big fervor in the geek world in 2012.
— I must imagine the emotion that must have been.
Morant's voice was filled with sarcasm.
Igor made a face of few friends.
— I'm used to people saying that about us nerds, it doesn't affect me anymore.
He took the numbers, typed into his cell phone, and added the ".com".
— Voila!
Ben Morant was not understanding when he saw the photo.
— A butterfly?
— Actually, it's a cicada.
— I'm just not going to tell you to fuck off, Zumerick, because we're in a church and because you're a priest.
Igor laughed.
— It's complicated to explain about them, because nobody knows exactly who they really are… or what they want.
— Igor… tell me who these guys are?
He took a deep breath.
I was supposed to be one of them...
— Their name is Cicada 3301.