Apocalypsis 1.04 Baphomet by Giordano Mario

Author:Giordano, Mario [Giordano, Mario]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Bastei Luebbe
Published: 2012-06-28T22:00:00+00:00

XXXVII

May 13, 2011, Avignon

Mohammed Al Naimi kept his word. After their arrival in Avignon, the Saudi Ambassador led Peter and Maria to another luxury limousine with a diplomatic license plate, which carried them out of the airport area, successfully circumnavigating the pitfalls of customs and immigration. They drove to a nearby parking garage and there he explained that he would expect them back at the same location 24 hours later for their return flight to Rome. If they didn’t show up, it would be their problem. Peter assured him that they would be at the airport on time and under all circumstances, with or without the original prophecy. He suspected that he was by now on Interpol’s Most Wanted List and that his picture was plastered all over Europe, and he hadn’t the slightest desire to struggle his way from Avignon to Rome without a passport in his pocket.

Peter went to the car rental area of the parking garage, entered a PIN code into an automated key dispenser, and withdrew the keys to an inconspicuous Peugeot that Don Luigi had rented for them.

The rain was coming down in torrents when they left the parking garage and began to fight their way along the N7 towards the center of the city, one traffic jam at a time. The rain continued throughout their entire drive, until they reached the Place du Palais by the Rhone. Threatening masses of dark clouds were pressing down on the rooftops of the city, as if they were determined to drown the entire town of Avignon in a deluge of rain. In front of them, a monstrous monolith of sandstone and huge stone blocks rose into the air, a rugged Gothic façade melting with the rain and the clouds into an ominous entity that seemed ready to devour everything in its path. A repellent bastion with arrow-slits instead of windows, crenellations on the roofs, and countless merlons for the defense of the blind angles with boiling oil or pitch. A giant of a palace with four wings nestled into each other. A Gothic massif reminiscent of the Dolomites, rutted and impregnable, without unnecessary embellishments, a masterpiece of almost Moorish strictness. It was obvious: Avignon’s Palace of the Popes with its nested structure was a fortress. And at the same time one of the most magnificent castles of its time.

»Where do we start?« Peter asked after they had left the underground parking garage and were standing on the rain-swept Place du Palais.

»At the main entrance?« Maria suggested in a cheerful tone and strode towards the main gate, which was flanked by two minaret-like towers overlooking the wall. »The priority is to get out of the rain!«

Peter bought two admission tickets and an English guidebook about the palace. And he was stunned. As repellent and vicious as the palace looked from the outside, the interior in all its pompous magnificence was just as playful and luxurious. The interconnecting halls and chambers were richly decorated with frescos and had once been filled with the most refined furniture.

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