The John Code

By Paul F. Thurton

After receiving a mysterious delivery at the rectory of St. Monica's Church, Mary and Father Raymond are plunged into a world of sinister plots and intrigue.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 20, 2013
• ISBN: 9781483514154

Book preview

Bolanos

The John Code

CHAPTER 1

8:00 A.M., Good Friday morning, 2012

Bursting through the doors of the underground train, elder Harris Harland flew out onto the crowded platform. He had become frantic and terrified when he realized what was now taking place. The rhythm of his breathing became heavy and dangerously rapid. A secret has been revealed upon the earth and upon the sea, he thought. My death will come within minutes.

Harris hurried along the station’s tiled platform. The train-doors whizzed by close as he made his way along the edge. On that morning there was a dense crowd, and he was bumping into pedestrians while making his escape. The current from the departing train caused his hat to fly off his head and disappear along the tracks.

Desperately, he scrambled to reach the nearest exit at the end of the platform. I am immortal for the next few minutes.

Harris had often contemplated the arrival of these final minutes, when mankind was to witness the unraveling of a code. This code had eluded many minds for almost two thousand years. His end, being so close now, turned out to be quite different from what he had previously imagined.

Harris rushed through the crowd to the exit. McGill subway station, he noted. He ascended the escalator then glanced back over his shoulder. A sea of people crowded the platform while his assailant was still coming fast at him.

He paused at the top landing. A high-pitched squeak suddenly bellowed out from metal scraping against metal. Harris dashed out onto the crowded streets of downtown Montreal.

The reputable Birks Building was the first thing he noticed, with its golden calligraphy and huge brass doors. This must be Ste. Catherine road. He bolted ninety degrees to the right. Christ Church Cathedral was less than half a block away and he decided to make for that ornate and historic church.

Harris navigated his way through the pedestrians hustling along the sidewalk. He arrived at the stairs to the cathedral and darted up, skipping steps as he went.

He ran full speed upon the flat landing headed straight for the double doors. On arriving, he flung them wide open. A loud, crashing sound came from within the cavernous expanse. A statue of Saint Francis of Assisi had come smashing down upon the ceramic floor. Broken clay was everywhere. This statue had been sitting on a pedestal behind those doors for decades now.

Harris ran over the fragments of broken clay down the center aisle. His steps echoed melodically as he headed straight for the altar.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 2

Fifteen kilometers west of Christ Church Cathedral stands St. Monica’s Roman Catholic Parish. The early morning mass had already begun. Father Raymond, dressed in his long white alb covered with a green stole, stood before the altar. He addressed his congregation who sat in the rows of wooden pews, transfixed.

With his bible hanging over his left wrist, Father Raymond directed the sermon with his right. He read from the Book of Revelation, of what was to happen soon. He read of a beast that will rise up out of a sea to fool many of the inhabitance of our world. This beast is to have seven heads and ten horns.

Father Raymond transferred his gaze from the page to the congregation. So what is this beast which comes up out of the sea? he asked. Everyone sat staring back at him standing before the altar. It is not permitted to answer the questions posed by a Catholic priest during the mass, even if he stares directly at you. And what should we make of these seven heads and ten horns?

Father Raymond walked back around the altar. The problem is that no one has yet deciphered these ancient codes. These were the codes written down by our John on the island of Patmos as he withstood persecution by the Roman soldiers; for preaching the Good News of The Kingdom.

The mysteries behind these codes have remained unsolved, said Father Raymond in a solemn tone. "Here is wisdom, let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast: for it is the number of a man; and his number is six-hundred-and-sixty-six."

Father Raymond placed the bible back upon the altar. As he genuflected, the choir broke in with a song. On that morning, each of the choir members was dressed in white and arranged themselves in two rows. The women were in the front, while the men stood in the second row on an elevated wooden platform. Two altar boys rushed back and forth from the altar to the tabernacle. A general hum vibrated throughout the church as the parishioners settled back in their pews.

After finishing their preparations, the altar boys hastened back to their seats. Father Raymond, standing at the altar with his head bowed and his hands folded for prayer, noticed something odd taking place. He saw through one of the windows a package being delivered to the rectory.

The choir had by now finished singing, and members of the congregation sat staring at Father Raymond. They were waiting for him to say ‘The Lord be with you,’ so they could answer ‘And also with you,’ while rising from their seats. Then he would raise both his hands to heaven and say ‘Lift up your hearts.’ And they would all return in unison, ‘We lift them up to the Lord.’ But Father Raymond’s attention and his pointed gaze followed the driver delivering the package to the rectory, just beside the church.

They deliver this early in the morning now?

* * * * *

CHAPTER 3

Harris gasped for breath as he arrived at the altar at Christ Church Cathedral. A gigantic, bronze statue of Jesus Christ impaled on the cross came into his vision. Desperation overcame him. He scanned his surroundings hoping for something to show itself. A crucifixion scene set up to the right of the altar caught his attention. This appeared to be the back-drop for a play to celebrate the Easter festivities.

Harris ran over to this display. A cardboard Roman soldier brandishing a whip at the fallen Jesus was the center of attraction. He yanked on the handle of this whip, detaching it from the soldier.

This is no whip, he said to himself in surprise. It was the long velvet cord used to open a set of draperies hanging high above the display.

With no real whip available, someone must have decided to use this cord instead. It looked very much like a whip. In the back of the soldier, duct-tape fastened the cord to wooden rods for support. At the front of the display, the cord emerged as the handle of the whip.

Harris grasped onto this handle. He forced it into his pocket and started running back toward the altar. As he ran, the length of the chord was expiring with every step. A solid brass rod that supported the huge draperies ultimately snapped from its support high up close to the vaulted ceiling. This sudden halt in Harris’ forward motion created an impulsive force which caused the huge assortment of draperies, along with the brass rod, to come crashing down onto the Easter display. The cardboard soldier, along with the rest of the display, lay buried under a mountain of rubble. Soon afterward, a large statue of the Mother Mary holding the infant Jesus went tumbling down onto some rows of lit candles, igniting a small fire in the cathedral. Parishioners who hid in between the pews chose to make their escape at that moment. Then a loud crackling sound occurred, as if someone had lit a fire-cracker in the cathedral.

The thick, multi-wound, plastic-coated, piano wires used to support the enormous cross had snapped! It was the snapping of these wires which created the sounds of fireworks. Harris was sent flying to and fro through the air grasping at his neck. The exposed end of the piano wire, which lashed back and forth like a dragon’s tail, had coiled itself around his neck.

The tremendous springing force of the wire had propelled him upward into the air. He became the bob of a pendulum, swinging to and fro above the altar. Harris tried to free himself from the tight grip, but it was no use.

His legs were trembling. Little by little, they stopped moving. His hands fell gently from the coils around his neck. First the left hand fell, followed by the right. His chest heaved upward, remaining there for a few seconds, after which it dropped for one final time.

Harris’ human pendulum now swung over the altar at Christ Church Cathedral. The length of this pendulum equaled the length of piano wire wrapped around his bleeding neck.

Harris Harland was dead.

Unaware to anyone, a figure appeared in silhouette at the open doors of the cathedral. He stood with legs apart and had a gun in his hand. His breathing was heavy from the chase. The man raised his gun and fired one assurance shot into the heart of the pendulum. Blood began to flow down. Before anyone could realized what happened, the silhouette turned and disappeared into the morning crowd.

Police men suddenly came bursting into the entrances of the cathedral. Their guns pointed at a few stunned parishioners still hiding. The officers then made their way toward the altar in a semi-crouched position, with guns now pointed upward at the bob of the swinging pendulum.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 4

Goldstein locked the door of his hotel room after entering. The keys landed on a small reading desk beside the bed and the gun he placed on a kitchen table. He unbuttoned his long black leather jacket and placed it over the back of a chair. His clothes were flung onto the bed and he hopped into the shower.

After eating leftover scraps from earlier that morning, Goldstein dressed himself in a fine, gray suit. He put on a shining pair of black shoes and lit a cigarette. Looking up in the direction of the sky, his stare remained fixed upon the ceiling as smoke bellowed out into the air.

Goldstein set his cigarette on a saucer and walked over to the side of the bed. He crouched and reached under the frame. Out came a briefcase which he opened and withdrew a silken mat that went flat upon the floor. It was ten feet long and eight feet wide with eighty black and white squares, each being one foot long and one foot wide.

Upon the four center squares, Goldstein placed one of the night tables that sat beside the bed; this became his altar. He reached into the briefcase and withdrew a towel along with a solid golden chalice which he placed upon his homemade altar. The chalice was filled with wine and he retreated to a corner of the mat upon a black square.

Goldstein commenced walking toward the altar, one square at a time. He stopped on every square as he walked along the rows of the mat. When he arrived upon the fourth row at the fourth square, he reached his altar.

Goldstein picked up the chalice with both hands and offered praise toward the heavens. He placed it to his lips and drank the wine. He then placed the chalice back upon the altar. Goldstein turned and began working his way back along the same path toward his starting point; one square at a time.

As he stepped off the mat, the phone on a night-table began to ring. He walked over and answered it.

It’s the front desk Mr. Goldstein, you have an incoming call, should I put it through?

Yes please. Goldstein waited a few seconds.

Goldstein, please tell me he is dead and you have the calculation for us, the voice on the phone begged.

Yes Head Master, Harris Harland is hanging over an altar with a bullet in his heart as we speak.

And the calculation? You have it?! continued the voice. Goldstein eyed the burning cigarette.

No calculation yet sir. There was a long silence. His address is 50 Villeneuve Road West. Get there as soon as you can! said the Head Master.Search everything before the police get there. We must find that calculation! He didn’t take it to the grave with him, I’m sure of that much. And call me as soon as you have any news.

Goldstein picked up his cigarette and grabbed his gun from the table. He reached for his long, black leather jacket, snatched the keys and was out the door.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 5

At the conclusion of the early morning mass at St. Monica’s Catholic Church, Father Raymond was out on the front stairs mingling with the parishioners. Sister Allen came running out from the rectory and whispered in his ear. Father Raymond nodded to her and made his way over to a woman in her mid-thirties standing in the crowd.

Mary, he called out. How are you?

Hello Father, fine thanks, and yourself? Fine too Mary. So I’ll be seeing you on Sunday I suppose? asked Father Raymond.

Yes. I’ll be with the choir, she replied. Mary, a delivery came into the rectory for you.

A delivery? For me? Mary asked. There must be a mistake.

Why don’t we walk over and solve this little mystery. I’m sure there must be a good explanation for whatever it is, said Father Raymond.

Mary and Father Raymond descended the front stairs of the church and crossed over to the rectory. They walked up the few stairs and entered by the side door. Sister Allen was acting as the secretary at the front desk where she had signed for the delivery.

Hello Mary, she said on seeing Mary enter the room.

Hi Sister Allen, replied Mary.

The delivery is on the table Father. Sister Allen pointed to the package.

And it’s for me?! Mary asked in confusion.

Your name is on the package Mary, the sister replied. Mary and Father Raymond approached the package with curiosity.

Looks like a small, wooden crate, said Father Raymond. He picked up the object and passed it over to Mary.

* * * * *

CHAPTER 6

Mary walked in closer. She inspected the label on the package.

To: Princess Marya Dmitriyevna Bolkonskaya,

6405 Terrebonne,

Montreal, Quebec, Canada, H4B 1A8.

She inhaled with surprise. Marya Dmitriyevna, she whispered to herself while staring at her name. Other than Father Raymond and Sister Allen, no one knew her by that name. Furthermore, this was the first time she remembered being called a princess.

Open it. Mary demanded.

Father Raymond took off his robes and hung them on a rack. He went to the basement and returned with a screwdriver in his hand. Mary focused her gaze upon the small crate. Won’t be long now, said Father Raymond. He squeezed the screwdriver between the layers of wood and took the lid off the box.

Mary took a deep breath. The last nail came out. The priest placed the screwdriver on the desk and ripped out the wooden frame with his bare hands. A sheet of white paper flew out of the box onto the floor. Father Raymond picked up the paper and read aloud the two words written upon it:

Behind Stanley.

Behind Stanley? Who is Stanley? asked Mary.

This must be a big joke, said Father Raymond placing the paper in his pocket. A layer of white Styrofoam padding with a thin layer of bubble paper protected the interior of the package. Loose cotton then formed a final layer. Go ahead Mary, said Father Raymond, who invited her to withdraw the contents of her mysterious delivery. She pulled away the final layer of cotton exposing a small, transparent pyramid.

It’s a glass pyramid, she said, holding it up to the sunlight streaming through the window. The room suddenly lit up with a brilliant radiance of reflecting and refracting light. There were shimmering dots and silver sparkles everywhere. The luster of this transparent pyramid was magnificent.

They jumped back upon witnessing this luminous spectacle. But why would someone send you a glass pyramid? asked Father Raymond. Mary shrugged her shoulders in disbelief and total surprise. And they called me by my real first name, she said. Suddenly there was a loud knocking on the front door of the rectory. Who could this be? asked Sister Allen. She left the desk and walked out of the room to attend to the front door. Mary and Father Raymond continued observing the mysterious pyramid.

Are you sure you’ve never used your Russian name with anyone else? asked Father Raymond.

Never, replied Mary. Only yourself and Sister Allen know me by that name!

Then it must be someone who knew you back in St. Petersburg.

But I left there when I was seven years old Father. And besides, why send me a pyramid? Mary took a closer look at the strange object. She never saw a glass pyramid like this one before. It appeared to be reflecting the light millions of times at perfect angles within the pyramidal volume.

The internal lines and external edges appear all perfectly straight, said Mary. This glass pyramid was glimmering and twinkling with dazzling, bright light. And the light appeared to be trapped inside the glass.

Maybe someone thought it would make a nice Easter present for you.

No, something is not right. Mary jumped backed from the pyramid in utter amazement and let out a piercing scream.

What is it Mary?! Father Raymond asked.

This is not a glass pyramid Father, she whispered.

Then what is it?!

This is a solid, diamond pyramid!

Sister Allen came running back into the room.

It’s the police at the front door!

* * * * *

CHAPTER 7

Mary and Father Raymond sat in the back seat of a speeding BMW as it made the left turn at Wilson Street and Sherbrooke Avenue. The driver headed east past the Esposito grocery store.

But sir, pleaded Mary, I’m telling you, this must be a big mistake. We have no idea what you’re talking about.

You will soon madam. You will soon, the agent replied in English, with a French accent. The situation calls for your attention right now madam.

I’m expected back for a baptism in one hour, complained Father Raymond. The detective in the front seat looked straight ahead, paying no attention to them. The car made a sharp right turn, and Mary’s shoulder squished against the door. A Kentucky Fried Chicken sign flash by them. The BMW swerved around a vehicle, overtaking it in an instant. Mary and Father Raymond swayed to the right of the speeding vehicle, then back to the left again.

The agent driving the vehicle decelerated before reaching the red light by Upper Lachine Road. Then he hit the gas straight through the red light toward St. Jacques Street. Within seconds the black BMW entered onto the 720 East Highway and disappeared among the lanes of speeding cars. They reappeared headed north on University St. climbing the hill by the Bell building. Mary and Father Raymond felt dizzy by now.

Are we there yet, said Father Raymond, looking ill from the trip.

Yes, we are here...two more blocks, the agent replied, while flashing his badge at vehicles forcing them to get out of the way.

Well I hope we can be of help to you, but you’re making a big mistake. Do we look like criminals to you? Mary asked the agent.

Not at all. Not to me. But on this job, criminals come in many sizes, shapes and forms, the agent said, while flashing his badge wildly. A jewel thief walking along the street looks just like a businessman these days madam.

Mary’s eyes opened wide with attention. Father Raymond’s heart skipped a few beats.

"Did you say jewel thief? Mary asked as if in a trance.

Oh yes. Jewel stores are being robbed all the time here in Montreal, said the first agent. There are at least twenty unsolved cases sitting on my desk right now.

Mary and Father Raymond figured the agents knew of the diamond pyramid. She glanced over at Father Raymond. They realized information was often held back from suspects to catch them in a trap. It was better to admit to the crime before you’re caught holding on to the stolen goods.

The agent driving turned to face Mary and Father Raymond. We know that you got a delivery at the church this morning, he said. A brief pause ensued, then blood began to drain from the stunned faces and Mary