Promethea (14 page)

              Tongues twine and twist in foreign accents but when they wail; they do it all just the same. Weeping relatives, sobbing wives and aching girlfriends; they come in all shapes and colours, but it is none other than death that they always run to blame. Even if the final outcome remains miserable… even if conclusions remain unchanged.

             
People soaked in black. Like crows, we have marched, escorting Adam’s body to the burial grounds. I refrained from giving a speech on that day. I really wished not to. But I was there to see him carried away in a dark wooden casket, on the necks and shoulders of brave men in uniform. He was veiled by the pride-inducing French flag, as the desolate, low-pitched trumpet tones of Chopin’s Funeral March carried him to his final resting place.

             
Some grievers on the back gave way to the advancing honour guards. Seven of them I have counted, as they took their pre-assigned positions by a huge-trunked blossoming tree. They tilted their rifles slightly upwards and fired three blank cartridges into space, signalling his final irreversible departure.

             
A sung hero he was, the 3-volley salute made sure of that.

             
I had stayed until most people left. I remained just to watch how fast would the numbers tumble.
I was responsible for this
, I kept thinking.

             
Out of the few lingering people was a young brunette that recognized me just moments before I intended to leave. She waved at me timidly and then moved closer. The beautiful woman had concealed most of her face and captivating blue eyes behind an ink-black vintage hat and an embroidered wire veil. She looked at me, stretching her folded fingers forward to present me with a small token.

             
“He would have wanted you to have this.” Adam’s sister sobbed, still fixated on me. Her shaky hands relaxed her grip slowly, revealing a beautifully incepted, custom-designed necklace. It was embedded with many striking green emerald stones. “We had this made especially for you, he was supposed to give it to you personally in two months time, on your birthday.”

             
I stretched my palm and relieved Lara from her load. I held the piece of jewellery between my fingertips, admiring the level of passion and detail put into it. The necklace was sculpted in the shape of a fiery torch and the green emeralds were placed randomly like burning speckles. Beneath it, two lines were engraved in English.

HÉLÈNE

MY GUIDING LIGHT

             
“That is the meaning of your name, right… Torch in Greek? We looked it up online together… Adam and I.”

             
“Yes… Yes, it is.” I smiled remorsefully as I put the sensual necklace around my neck.

             
“He thought the green Emeralds would bring out the colour of your eyes…” Her pause was a long one. “We really should be going now.” Lara’s features tensed and contracted. Her eyes welled up as she broke into uncontrollable tears. “Nothing could bring him back to us.”

             
I held her hand in a futile attempt to bring her peace, yet that had miserably failed. She turned around slowly, giving me her back and walked away. I had kept track of her, however, until she reached the backseat of a large black limousine. Its engine revved up just before it vanished slowly into the distance.

             
The irony
… I kept thinking.

             
First it was Emily’s rosary and now there was this. It would seem like I have the tendency of being entrusted with funeral memorabilia. I sighed, then walked back sluggishly to my car.

             
Once inside, I pressed on one small black button, allowing for a flurry of whizzes and gizmos to ensue. The retractable hardtop was crunching its way to the back of the car with impressive ingenuity, until it folded completely and lodged into its intended position. Moments later, I floored the acceleration pedal and started my journey back home, while beginning another simultaneous intellectual voyage unto the investigation’s proceedings.

             
Behind the Interpol’s closed doors, Promethea’s mastermind was finally getting all the credit they deserved. After all, the task of converging such conflicting goals and ideologies into one true hidden purpose was a true work of art. Everyone they employed had a motive, a purpose or a story they longed to believe. No matter the conflicting goals, however, the end product was always going to be the same. It had to remain unchanged.

             
The Hofburg robbers were just like any petty thieves, motivated by money, and luring them must have been one of the easier tasks. Shortly thereafter, came a hefty promise. An oath made with certain brass. For as to commit those gruesome murders all around Europe, the Neo-Nazis were assured the return of their precious relic… their long-fathomed Vienna spear. Needless to say that in the end, there was just no way around it, that vow, like a guillotine, had always felt way too near. The worthless artefact was finally given back to them without the slightest sound, like a succulent bone to a hungry hound.

             
Yet the tricky part was far from over, as to approach the
right people
within the Church was a task to be feared. For as the slightest mistake, just one wrong connection, would have proven to be way too dear. Then came a crazed scientist with a false sense of grandeur, and dealing with him was just a thing one had to endure. For as someone to bring forth the light of knowledge, they would have to have a certain advantage. They had to overlook all the procedures and investigations from a certain vantage. They would have protection even when are too close. They would find nothing too dear and would not care about anything to lose. They would want to see man’s faith in religion buckle… just to punch mankind in the face with closed knuckles. It goes without saying that this character must be above all decree… that person is, in fact, really
me
.

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The End -